Sophie let the last tablecloth fan in the breeze. Talk of the new ranch was going to have to wait. This meeting between Dusty and her beau took precedence. Scandal would break if Dusty led Chad to believe that he was also pursuing her. “What in the world did you say to him?”
“I told him to let you decide which man you wanted.”
“You allowed Chad to think that you were also courting me? Why can’t you leave well enough alone?”
“I didn’t say anything.” He got up from the grass, innocent and unassuming as a man with laughter in his eyes could look.
“That is strictly the point. Your refusal to dispute Chad’s claim led him to believe you were sweet on me.”
“I am sweet on you.” He admitted words honest and plain as the buttons on his shirt. “And I’m waiting for you to proclaim you’re sweet on me.”
If he weren’t such an uncomplicated man his statement would have sounded arrogant. Sophie went for the last tablecloth in order to have something to occupy her hands, an excuse to turn away from his earnest face as he stood much too close for her liking. Why didn’t she have enough will to tell him to leave, that she didn’t want him coming around anymore? She’d stay on one side of the farm, he on the other, and they’d only meet when her family invited him inside the house for supper. A very simple arrangement. “You may find the wait quite tedious.”
“It’s been three years since I first made your acquaintance. Most folk would say I’m a patient man.”
Three years. It didn’t seem like that much time had passed. Sophie remembered how slow and plodding the days were before he arrived on the farm seeking work. Having a tall, good-looking stranger walking about the property provided a pleasant distraction from household chores and helping to care for younger siblings. Best of all, he didn’t stay a stranger but daily engaged her in conversation and bantering. She couldn’t give her true feelings away, though. “Most people would say you’re fooling yourself. How long do you think I’ll be living under my family’s roof, sparring words with you?”
The boyish gleam in Dusty’s eyes became flat and dull. Marble-faced, he watched clouds float over the house. Sophie regretted the reaction she caused in him. She intended to disparage his advances, not to sound cruel. “I mean to say that I won’t be an unmarried woman forever. Since I’m being courted, people are telling me that I shouldn’t speak so common to other men. It’s not proper.”
“People, or one man in particular?”
Sophie didn’t want to reveal that her friend Linda also agreed with Chad, that she should leave Dusty alone. If they knew the extent to which she flirted . . . “It doesn’t matter who said it. You need to let Chad know that you are not contending for me.”
“I never could lie very well. Hard to keep from smiling.”
Sophie lifted the clothesbasket and held it in front of her like an awkward shield. “You can’t court me. My father wouldn’t grant you permission if you asked, and that’s the only way to do it if you want to be proper.” Her mouth betrayed her, stringing words together that sounded like she was merely warning him of the challenges he’d face instead of flat-out refusing his courtship.
Dusty conceded to her argument. “He might change his mind if he sees how well I’d treat you.”
“He wouldn’t. Besides, I’d refuse.” She’d be expected to, for other reasons that she chose not to say out of fear of further damaging his pride. Dusty knew enough about the rigors of courtship and her family’s expectations of gentlemen callers. Men were to show that they could provide for a future wife, to give her a life that was at or above what she was accustomed to. Her mother and father would never approve of her being courted by a cowboy, especially not one who worked for them, whose monthly wages were spelled out in their record book.
But was that being hypocritical, given their lean years in New Orleans? Sophie struggled to determine the answer. “I have to take this basket inside.” She hoisted it higher and carried it up the steps. A movement occurred behind the drapes of one of the windows overlooking the front porch. Was David trying to eavesdrop? Rosemarie, maybe? Sophie balanced the basket on one knee and turned the doorknob.
The door opened without her pushing it. Her mother aimed down at her with stern eyes, hands placed beneath both sides of her tightly corseted waist. “You and I will speak in the kitchen this instant.”
CHAPTER 17
T HE BASKET MAY as well have been weighed down with lead. Sophie’s strength waned under the strict and uncompromising gaze of her mother. What did she see from that window? What did she hear?
“Set that basket down. Rosemarie will tend to it while we talk.”
Meekly, Sophie did as she was told and trailed behind her mother. The kitchen was immersed in smells of roasted garlic and lamb, but her appetite retreated.
“What were you and Dusty talking about outside?”
Her mother’s tone indicated that she already had an answer to the question and was only giving her a chance to reveal the truth. Still, Sophie wasn’t sure how much her mother had actually heard. “Dusty was telling me about a friend he met in town.”
“The two of you spent an awfully long time talking about this friend. Is the lady or gentleman a mutual acquaintance?”
“You might say that.”
Her mother pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and indicated for Sophie to do the same. “Evasiveness is not a becoming trait for a lady. Tell me what was spoken or you will dine alone in your room.”
Eating supper by herself didn’t sound like a terrible punishment in light of revealing aspects of her discussion with Dusty. Sophie met her mother’s awaiting stare. She wasn’t getting out of confession. “We talked about Chad.”
Her mother’s firm composure gave way. Never an encouraging sign. “Why would you talk to Dusty about a man who’s courting you?”
Sophie shook her head.
“Or to anyone outside of your family or female confidants?”
“I don’t have a good answer, Mother.”
“No, I don’t believe so. Your actions prove very discouraging.” She launched into a lecture. “You know what I’ve said about being careful in how you speak to men. One misinterpretation of your words, one slip in the way you carry yourself, and your reputation is gone. Do you want that?”
Sophie shook her head again. It failed to stop her mother from proceeding as though she did damage her standing.
“Assurance is growing, but we still live in a small town. There’s no returning after a fall from grace.”
“Dusty wouldn’t spread rumors about me.”
“Someone need only see the two of you in deep conversation to draw vicious conclusions. Cowboys are notorious for sweet-talking impressionable young ladies.”
In addition to Chad thinking her frivolous, her own mother presumed that she didn’t have enough sense in her head to prevent being easily influenced. It hurt Sophie to see that two important people in her life had such perceptions of her. “There’s no reason for you to change your opinion of Dusty. You and Daddy allowed him to ride into town with me when I went to Mayor Hooper’s house, and other times since he’s worked for us.”
Her mo
ther paused in silent agreement. “Dusty has proven trustworthy in the past, but that was before you had a real suitor like Chad.”
“How does Chad being my suitor make Dusty suddenly dishonorable?”
“Don’t be brazen with me, young lady. Shall I bring your father in here to speak with you?”
Sophie gave up trying to talk to her mother when she believed she was justified in her reasoning. “No. I’m sorry.”
The apology calmed her mother down. “What I witnessed outside the house today between you and Dusty was too intimate. How long have you been confiding in him like this?”
Sophie traced her fingers along the grooves of the table where many a kitchen knife slipped and made its mark. “I wasn’t confiding. Just talking.”
“Call it what you will. You both looked to be on too dear of terms.”
“He’s friendly, Mother, and means no devious will.”
“Your beau won’t think that. Chad will consider his friendliness to mean more than you care to defend against. I will not have Mayor Hooper’s son thinking my daughter common.” Sophie’s mother rose in one fluid motion, head held high and imperious.
Sophie sat in her shadow. What did she intend to do?
“From now on, Dusty will no longer break bread at our table. He will take his meals outside or in the bunkhouse. Your brothers will bring him his food.”
Sophie flinched at the harsh sentence. Her breathing sped to match her erratic heartbeat. “Please don’t punish Dusty when he did nothing wrong. I promise not to say more to him than is required.”
Not one hair of her mother’s tightly-coiled bun moved out of place as she shook her head. “There’s no other choice. I’ve already sent your father out to talk to Dusty.”
What would Daddy say to him? Sophie groaned.
“Don’t make that guttural noise. You are not a sow.”
How could her mother say that, when she felt lower than swine? Dusty did nothing to harm her, and yet he was to be punished on her account, a potential prelude for worse things to come. Her father had the power to send him off the farm and withhold his pay. She had to do something to keep that from happening. “I’ll take all of my meals upstairs when Dusty eats at the table.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You are part of this family. It’s a privilege that we even provide Dusty room and board. I know people that subtract that from their workers’ wages.”
Sophie stared at her mother in disbelief. She would never have said a thing like that when they lived in Louisiana, where Daddy worked as a hired hand himself. “But you and Daddy always tell us to have regard for men of different trades.”
“This isn’t about regard. This is about retaining your propriety. Now wash your hands and help me set the table.” Her mother ended the conversation by going to stand by the sink.
Sophie went to her task and gathered the plates from the cupboard, minus one.
Dusty didn’t notice Mrs. Charlton peeking out the front window until Sophie went to go inside the house. He hoped they didn’t talk loud enough for her to hear, else he’d be in a heap of trouble for admitting his feelings for her daughter. What he needed to do was ask Mr. Charlton for permission to court Sophie, but how could he do that if permission had already been given to Chad?
He strode to the bunkhouse to wash his face and hands before supper. Like it or not, it was coming time to leave the farm. He needed to show himself sufficient to win Sophie’s hand by increasing his earnings and making a home of his own. Those things couldn’t be done while he was still in her father’s employ.
Before there were no suitable prospects of employment. Now he had one. If he kept sitting on the fence, his opportunities were going to pass by.
Dusty shut the door to the bunkhouse. To his surprise, Mr. Charlton was standing in front of the steps, waiting for him. He knew where Sophie got her ability to creep up on people.
“How’re you doing today, Dusty?”
“Fine, sir.” What an odd question to ask so late in the day when Mr. Charlton had the opportunity to greet him with it earlier. “Did you need to speak to me about something?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. It’s about my daughter.”
Dusty’s hand remained on the door. What did she tell her father? “Is Miss Sophie alright?”
“She will be. Her mother and I thought it best to make some changes in the way things are going around here. Before I proceed, I want you to understand that no one is accusing you of reckless conduct.”
Dusty wished he would make his point. What was it with the people of Assurance taking so long to state important matters? He hated being as fretful as the Christmas turkey on December twenty-fourth. “Okay.”
Mr. Charlton didn’t look mad, but he wasn’t all smiles, either. “Sophie is being courted by a young man that her mother and I highly approve of. It’s come to our attention that she isn’t being . . . mindful of the importance of that association. If I’m correct, she’s confiding in you about it.”
Now he looked mad. Dusty didn’t like the blue frost in the man’s eyes. If not reckless conduct, what was Mr. Charlton accusing him of? “I know Chad Hooper’s courting your daughter, sir.”
“She admitted speaking to you about it this afternoon while she gathered the laundry. That’s the truth, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Dusty wondered if this was what men felt like when they went to stand before a judge. Accused and presumed guilty. “But she didn’t say a word that would lower anyone’s estimation of her.”
“I still can’t let my daughter carry on to anyone she chooses. I can see how she’s gotten used to your presence over the years, but she needs to understand that you’re not a relative that she can speak freely to. Until she learns to control her tongue, I’m going to have to keep her separated from you.”
The blue frost left Dusty cold to the marrow of his bones. “What does that mean?”
“She won’t talk to you unsupervised. I’ll be watching her as she does her chores. And—I don’t like this, but I feel it necessary—you won’t be sharing any meals with the family. You’ll eat in the bunkhouse or with the boys and me when we break from work.”
Dusty had no entitlement to feel insulted but it came on anyway. Before this evening, the Charltons trusted him enough to let him eat at their supper table, and now he was being ordered to take his meals elsewhere as though he posed a threat. Did Sophie get angry enough to tell her father that she didn’t want him around her anymore? It didn’t sound like what she would do. “It’s your household, Mr. Charlton. I’ll do as you say, but I never meant any disrespect toward your daughter.”
Mr. Charlton held up his hand. “At this time, Dusty, it’s not about what you meant. It’s about Sophie learning where her place is.”
Far away from him, that’s what her father should come out and say. Dusty took pains not to let his anger show. Sophie’s parents were teaching her another lesson in decorum, and he was the one they picked to do the illustrating. He understood the need of a family to protect one of their own, but Mr. and Mrs. Charlton weren’t shielding Sophie. They were shielding her reputation, her standing with Chad and the rest of the higher-ups in town.
They made their point clear. No Charlton woman was going to sully herself by talking to someone beneath the station they deemed fit for her to abide in. The truth he had been ignoring for the longest time came to stare him in the face.
“I’m glad you understand, Dusty. I’ll send David out with your supper.”
As Mr. Charlton disappeared into the house, Dusty realized that he had, in fact, received an answer as to when to leave the farm.
The Lord worked in mysterious ways, indeed.
Dusty ate his supper on the porch of the bunkhouse before he went inside. Banned from the Charlton home, where marbles and jack straws were played after the evening meal, he had nothing to do but tidy up his living space. He went one further and rearranged the bed and small table. Then he cleaned his revolver and Winchester rifle, two firearms that hadn’t been put to any practical use since he came to Kansas. Might be a purpose for them on the Zephyr Ranch, if Mabrey decided to hire him. Dusty made plans to ask about it in church tomorrow if he ran into the foreman.
On Sunday morning he went to church by himself after getting the wagon ready for the Charltons. What was the sense in staring forlornly at the back of a wagon while everybody inside pretended he wasn’t there, anyway? He tried to shake off his grumbling spirit that persisted as he saddled his horse.
The road to church was quiet without the chatter of Sophie and her siblings filling the air. A gentle wind drifted through the trees and moved the grass near the lakeshore, where the mud colored the shallow water. Despite the stillness of the woods, Dusty felt that a hundred pairs of eyes were watching him.
They treat you like a lowdown dog. The voice moved through the trees as he rode past. Why are you still there?
It followed him through the thicket of low brush. You should’ve left a long time ago.
A Windswept Promise Page 15
