by Lori Wick
She turned vague eyes to him.
“Put your head back,” he instructed her. A moment later she turned slightly toward him, her left cheek against the leather seatback. They hadn’t gone 100 yards before her face bounced forward and her forehead lay against his arm. Travis kept the horse’s pace slow and steady. He knew Mr. Wagner would be having apoplexy, but right now he had a lovely passenger to see to, and Travis refused to do anything that would disturb her. He also had no trouble admitting to himself that the feel of her against him, even just her forehead, was much too wonderful for words.
3
“Miss Rebecca,” Travis called very softly as the house came into view. “Rebecca,” he tried again. She stirred, dislodging the hat completely to tumble at her feet. Travis’ face was turned to her, the horse well-knowing the way home, and he watched as she looked up into his eyes and blinked slowly. He was very aware of the way her shoulder leaned against his arm, but Rebecca had only just noticed. Her face red, she pushed upright and looked at the road and beyond. Travis heard her gasp.
The ranch house at the Double Star was a sight to see. They were within 100 yards now, and the lovely home seemed to rise up abruptly out of the prairie. It was painted white, two stories high with an attic, and grand to any eye.
A deep porch with round wooden pillars stretched across the entire front of the house and wrapped around the east side. A large balcony extended from the second floor, and Rebecca instinctively knew this would be off her father’s bedroom. The roofline was punctuated by several gables. The roof itself was finished in cedar shakes. Her father’s love for the mountains was evident in the large windows that rose from seemingly every room, both upstairs and down.
“This is my father’s home?” she questioned softly.
“Yes. This is the Double Star ranch house.”
The bunkhouse, cook’s shack, and mess hall were all in sight as well, but Rebecca didn’t focus on them. She was silent as she tried to take in both the setting at the base of the mountains and the home itself. She kept thinking of the house she’d been raised in in Philadelphia with its small rooms and damp smell; the home that her Aunt Hannah had seldom left in the last years; the one that had made her feel suffocated and ready to flee the moment she found her father’s letters.
“It’s him,” Rebecca breathed. Travis watched as she leaned forward in the seat.
Indeed, Andrew had come onto the porch and was now making his way down the steps. Travis found himself petitioning God, or whoever was in charge, that the man would not die of heart failure before his daughter’s eyes.
“Oh, Papa,” he heard her whisper, and even though they were far off, he stopped the buggy and let her dismount. Tears he no longer believed himself capable of clogged in the back of his throat as Rebecca ran and was swept into her father’s embrace. Travis made himself drive the buggy past them toward the barn. He was certain they would want some time alone.
“Oh, Papa; oh, Papa,” was all Rebecca could say for the first five minutes. Andrew had his arm around her, leading her up the steps and into the beautiful home, but she could see only her father’s face. He looked old, so much older than she remembered, but it was still him. It was still the Papa she’d adored as a child, and in just a moment of looking into his eyes, she knew that her aunt’s words had all been lies.
“Are you all right?” Andrew was asking, his hands on her arms. “Was the trip awful? Did anyone hurt you?”
“No, no. I’m fine. I was on the train for most of the journey. It broke down a few times, but no one bothered me.” She smiled suddenly. “The stage was a bit rough.”
Andrew hugged her again and took her hand to lead her into his study. He shut the door and turned to watch as she glanced around the room and then moved to look out the window. Andrew sat on the long leather sofa. Rebecca turned from the glass immediately, a thousand questions coming to mind.
“I waited for you,” she said softly, the light to her back. “I waited so long.”
Andrew’s hand came to his forehead in a gesture of weariness. It hadn’t occurred to him that she would want to talk of this right away, but he was more than happy to clear the air. He shook his head a moment. Where to begin?
“I’ve made mistakes, Reba, dozens of them.” Andrew’s eyes focused on the dark rug. “But none can compare to leaving you with Hannah and Franklin. Hannah tried to tell me about the outbreak of war, but I wouldn’t listen. She said we would be cut off, but I said I had to go.”
He looked at his daughter. “I’m sorry, Reba. I never meant for it to be this way. A man should have his child with him, and a little girl should have her papa. I’ve let you down.”
Rebecca went to sit beside him, her hand going to his arm. “It’s not all your fault,” she told him. “Aunt Hannah’s not right, Papa. She doesn’t think like the rest of us.”
Andrew nodded.
“I’m to blame as well,” Rebecca admitted in a soft voice.
Andrew’s eyes narrowed, and the young woman could see that he was ready to deny it. She cut him off.
“I am, Papa. I’ve been living in a dream world. Hannah rarely leaves the house anymore, but she was out the afternoon your letter arrived.” Tears filled the young woman’s eyes. “Up until then I had no idea. I—”
“What is it, Reba?” Andrew urged her gently. “You can tell me.”
“Your letters,” she whispered. “I never saw them.” She shook her head, so overcome that she couldn’t go on. Andrew put an arm around her, his heart and mind trying to deal with what she meant.
How could she have not seen his letters? She always replied to his questions. Had Hannah read them to her? He had a hard time imagining that. After all she was 19 years old. Surely his sister wouldn’t … Andrew’s thoughts halted. He’d known from her letters that Hannah was not doing well emotionally, and Rebecca had already said as much. The familiar ache came to the region of his chest, and he felt his body sweat. He looked down at his daughter, aching to ask more questions in order to have answers to put his heart at rest. However, the fatigue he saw in her eyes stopped him short.
“How about some supper and then bed? Are you hungry?”
Rebecca smiled at his rescue, but she couldn’t help but see the perspiration beading on his forehead and upper lip. Her smile slowly died.
“You’re not well. The letter didn’t say that, but I know it.”
“I’m not as strong as I once was,” he admitted, not wanting to talk of his health, “but you’re here now, and everything is going to be fine.”
Rebecca was not convinced, but she wanted it to be true. Willingly she stood with him and started toward the door at his side.
“Travis usually eats supper with me,” Andrew mentioned, “but tonight it can be just us.”
“Travis Buchanan?” Rebecca questioned, and something in her voice made him look at her.
“Yes, Travis Buchanan.” Andrew said lightly. “He’s acting as temporary foreman for me right now.” Andrew’s voice grew elaborate. “He won’t mind eating with the other hands tonight.”
Rebecca bit her lip. “I don’t mind if you’d like him to eat with us.”
They were at the foot of the stairs when Andrew stopped, his gaze tender on her face.
“I take it you didn’t leave your heart in Philadelphia?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“What about Marcus from the war?”
“We were just friends.”
Andrew continued to look at her. It hadn’t been hard to imagine that his pretty little daughter would turn into a lovely young woman, but finally seeing her had done him a world of good. He was not a large man, and Rebecca’s mother had been petite, so it was easy to see why she was not very big herself. However, her slim figure still possessed very womanly curves. It passed through his mind to wonder if Travis had been as taken with her as she seemed to be with him.
“You’re here now, and we’ll have lots of time to be alone together,” Andrew replie
d.
Rebecca smiled and nodded.
“I’ll make sure he knows he’s welcome,” Andrew added. He could see he’d done the right thing when she bit her lip again.
Travis ate his meal from pure habit. He had no idea what was on his plate, or how it tasted. Rebecca had changed from the blue traveling suit to a dress of sunny yellow with white bands on the sleeves, bodice, and neckline. It made her light blonde hair come alive as it lay on her shoulders, and Travis, already captivated, was utterly smitten.
All he’d wanted to do was find a place for the winter. All he’d wanted was to walk away from the pain of the past, but then Rebecca had turned those brown eyes to look at him in front of the stage office that afternoon. Could it have been only a few hours ago?
“I’ve begun to think that Grady is never coming back,” Andrew was saying with no real worry in his voice. “I got word that he gained a good price for the beef, but if I didn’t know better I’d say he skipped town with my gold.”
“I hope he’s not hurt,” Rebecca commented. “Is there any way to check?”
Andrew and Travis exchanged a glance and smiled.
“Only if I send Travis out on the trail to look for him.” Andrew’s voice held a note of laughter. “And something tells me he’d rather not do that right now.”
Travis smiled but dropped his eyes. It was true. The last thing he wanted to do was leave, unless of course Rebecca could go with him. The thought made him smile again, and at that moment he looked up to find her eyes on him. She smiled shyly in return and then dropped her own eyes. Neither of the young people was aware that Andrew had sat back in his chair with a contented sigh.
“How old are you, Travis?”
“Twenty-two. How about yourself?”
“I turned 19 in May.”
Again the young couple smiled at each other, still keeping a good six feet between them.
Rebecca’s plans had been to eat and sleep around the clock, but when the meal was over and her father suggested that she and Travis take a walk, all fatigue fell away.
“It gets cold here at night, doesn’t it?”
“Maybe we should go in.” Travis was all concern.
“No!” Rebecca said a little too swiftly. Travis smiled. Rebecca smiled in return but looked away when she felt her face heat. Travis studied her profile, his eyes lingering on her lips.
How in the world did a man act when his boss seemed almost to be throwing him together with his daughter? Not that Travis had any complaints, but did Andrew Wagner realize what a temptation Rebecca was? Travis’ travels had never been in the fine, big cities. The women he’d met had not been shy and sweet but ready to kiss him before he could learn their names. He’d never met anyone as sweet and genuine as Rebecca.
Rebecca had been protected, that was more than clear, and he’d been anything but sheltered. However, she seemed just as interested in him, and until Travis sensed otherwise, he planned to pursue this young woman with every spare moment allotted to him. Once again he felt torn over Grady’s return. He certainly didn’t wish the man harm, but it would be difficult to become just one of the hands again.
They had made a large circle of the house, something Travis would have thought his boss would want to do with his daughter, but the older man had been looking pale. Biscuit had come from his small bungalow, a one-room add-on to the cookhouse, and Travis had performed the introductions. Biscuit had been slightly less crotchety than usual for the first few words, but began to complain in less than two minutes.
“Have you seen what old Miller’s got in that store? Why I’ve seen better goods on the back of a wagon, and I swear—”
“We’ll see you later, Biscuit.” Travis cut him off easily and took Rebecca’s arm. She smiled up at him, and his own eyes twinkled with amusement before he dropped her arm.
At that moment he looked up and saw all five hands lined up outside the bunkhouse. They tried to look casual, but with their shirts buttoned to the neck, cheeks clean-shaven as though it were Saturday night, and every hair in place, Travis was not fooled.
“Evening, ma’am.” Lucky, always bold with the ladies, was the first to speak when the couple came abreast of them.
“Miss Rebecca,” Travis spoke up. “These are the Double Star hands. This is Lucky Harwell.”
Lucky smiled charmingly, his eyes not missing a thing.
“Next to him is Race Paulson, Woody Clark, Jud Silver, and Brad Sugars. Gentlemen, this is Miss Rebecca Wagner, and I know you’re going to show nothing but courtesy to the boss’ daughter.”
“Hello,” Rebecca greeted them sweetly, unaware of how seldom they saw a lady.
“We’ll be moving on now, boys,” Travis said, taking Rebecca’s arm again. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Not a one of the men, young or old, wouldn’t have liked to catch the fair Miss Rebecca’s eye, but the gaze she turned to Travis spoke volumes. And in truth, as much as they might have liked to get their hands on her, they knew it would cost them their good-paying jobs. Feelings of jealousy for Travis and his position surged through the group.
“That was lovely, Travis. Thank you.”
They were back at the house, standing in the entryway. Travis’ hat was in his hand, and Rebecca’s eyes were on his face.
“Thank you for accompanying me.”
“Will I see you tomorrow?”
“I expect, yes.” The temptation to linger was strong, but he forced himself to say, “Good night, Miss Rebecca.”
“Couldn’t you just call me Rebecca?”
The question took the air right out of his lungs. His voice was soft when he said, “I don’t know if your father would approve.”
Rebecca nodded and oddly enough, Travis was relieved. He hated the thought that all this sweetness hid a rebellious spirit.
“Good night, Travis,” she said, turning away.
Travis only smiled at her and let himself back out the door. As temporary foreman he still bunked with the men. He had no intention of answering a single question, so he saddled his horse, Diamond, and took a long ride, hoping beyond hope that when he returned they would all be asleep.
4
“Lavena,” Rebecca called to the housekeeper, who had befriended her.
“In the kitchen.” The older woman’s voice floated to the bottom of the stairs.
Rebecca walked that way, stepped inside, and just stood. Lavena’s back was to her, but she still heard the movements. She kept on with her work over a bowl of vegetables, a smile playing around her eyes.
The facts were simple—Rebecca Wagner was at loose ends. She’d been at the Double Star for ten days, searched out every nook and cranny of the large house, tried to help Lavena in the kitchen and with the cleaning, and was now restless. It was a few minutes after 4:00, and Lavena noted that this had become the pattern of the last week. It had taken a day or two to rest from her trip, but now she was raring to go but with little to do. Sunday was the only day she had company other than Lavena’s. The housekeeper was thankful that this was Saturday afternoon.
“Has my father ever shown any interest in remarrying?”
Lavena’s head spun around as if she’d been stung, all pretense of absorption with her cooking falling away.
“Marrying?” She sounded outraged. “Whatever gave you such a notion?”
Rebecca shrugged, having already learned that Lavena’s bark was larger than her bite. “I just wondered. I mean, he’s not an old man, and I can’t help but think he might be lonely out here.”
“He never wrote to you about a woman, did he?” Lavena’s voice was sharp.
Rebecca, still so confused about the letters, only shook her head no. Lavena eyed her strangely but refrained from further comment. Rebecca moved from the room. At what point was she going to tell her father how it had really been in Philadelphia? Hannah was a kind, although possessive, woman, and Franklin had never been anything but a gentleman, but Rebecca was convinced that they had both deceived her f
rom the moment her father left. Oh, she’d been happy—very happy. She’d never gone without possessions, time, or attention, but the things she’d been told concerning her father were all lies. And the letters …
Rebecca’s mind stopped there. Hers had been a happy, secure life until the mail delivery that day. Rebecca’s hand went to her pocket. The letter was inside. She knew her father was out with Travis and the hands, so Rebecca moved to his study. She sat at the big wooden desk and read the letter for the dozenth time.
My darling Rebecca,
You have stopped asking when I will come for you. Not recently, but a time ago, and there is no describing the pain I feel. I feel you have given up on me, and I can’t say as I blame you. I have never wanted to speak ill of your aunt, but she has not made things easy for us. I want more than anything for you to join me in Boulder, but it is impossible for me to come for you. Please know that were it in my power, I would be there. I ask myself what I will do if we never see one another again. I must then push the thought aside because I can’t stand the pain.
You still have not answered my questions concerning this young man Marcus. I have asked about him for the last several letters. If you do not reply this time, I will assume that he has hurt you and you do not wish to speak of it. If anything has happened to your heart, I will hold your aunt responsible.
Even as I write this, I laugh. Your aunt holds complete control over our situation, and I can do nothing. But you are 19 now, Reba, and should you ever wish to come on your own, I would see you here. It’s a long way, but you’re your father’s girl. Just ask for the funds, and I will see that you have them—that and anything else you need.
As ever,
Your loving father
The letter was beginning to tear and wrinkle, but Rebecca didn’t care. She pressed it to her chest and let her eyes slide shut. She had never heard him talk like this because she had never read his letters. He had wanted her. He hadn’t been too busy making a life for himself and forgotten her.
