Daisy joined in. “Maybe I’m just waiting to fall in love. They say it’s like a thunderbolt from a clear blue sky when it happens.”
“You’ve been reading too many fairy tales.” Barb was laughing, however. She looked across the table to meet Luke’s eyes. “Don’t you think, Luke?”
“I think it’s a beautiful sentiment,” he defended Daisy, “and I hope you find that man to fall in love with one day, Miss Daisy.”
“Who knows,” Barb said, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and Luke wondered if he could get away with strangling the minx. “Maybe you’ve already met him.”
* * *
The following day was Sunday. Luke shaved his beard off again, hoping to look tidy for church. Even though he told himself firmly he was being stupid, the thought of Daisy meeting his mother had his stomach tied up in knots. He’d only known Daisy a couple days, and there was nothing between them but friendship. He couldn’t court her; he had nothing to offer. Besides, she probably saw him as an older brother or even a substitute for her dead father, not as a potential suitor.
Not that he was old enough to be her father. At thirty-two, he was maybe ten or so years her senior. He certainly knew plenty of happy couples with age gaps far wider. Still, she deserved better, and he was determined not to spend too much time mooning after her.
Of course, the resolution flew right out of his head as soon as he spotted her walking into the church with Barb Jones and her children. Daisy Jackson in her Sunday best was a sight to make any man stare. Blue and white striped, the dress nipped in at her tiny waist and made her seem even more petite than she was.
Spotting him, she smiled widely and headed in his direction. “Good morning, Luke!” she exclaimed cheerfully.
“Good morning to you too, Miss Daisy.” He searched around for something to take his mind off of how lovely the woman in front of him was. The preacher? No. Winthrop? No. My mother. It’ll have to do. He waved the older woman over. “Ma, this is Miss Daisy Jackson, the new schoolteacher. Miss Daisy, my mother Maria Rockford Simpson and my stepfather Herb Simpson.”
His mother looked astonished as Daisy greeted them with her usual charm. Pulling Luke aside as Mr. S quizzed Daisy on her plans for the school, she hissed in his ear, “In your whole life, you’ve never introduced a single young lady to Herb and me! What’s this all about, Luke?”
“I just thought you’d like to meet her,” he said lamely, knowing he wasn’t fooling his mother for an instant. She gave him a sharp look, but there was no time to say any more; the choir was filing in to sit in their chairs at the front of the church, and Reverend Brown would be right behind them.
Daisy made a whispered farewell and hurried off to join Isabelle and Ishmael Jones. Jack sat with them, Luke noted with pleasure while wishing he could join them himself. Daisy cast a quick glance at him as she sat down with one of those sparkling smiles he was beginning to imagine she reserved for him alone. He sighed wistfully before bending to his mother’s insistently tugging hand and taking a seat beside her.
“Beautiful girl, Luke,” his stepfather leaned across to say, accompanying the words with a knowing wink.
There was no question about that, especially in that dress. Luke prayed for forgiveness; lusting after a respectable young woman in the Lord’s house was surely pretty high up on the scale of sins, but his mind wouldn’t be quiet. Daisy was all he could think about: her sparkling eyes and her ready smile, the way her laughter sounded like music.
“Luke’s got it bad for that girl,” he heard Mr. S whisper to his mother. While he pretended to ignore their whispers, he knew Mr. S had seen the truth.
Only problem is, I’m not alone.
All around the church, men scrubbed up and wearing their best suits stared at Daisy instead of paying attention to the service—Grant Watson among them. Luke’s hackles rose instinctively. There was something about the way Watson stared, something he couldn’t put a name to but was sure he didn’t like. The deputy barely took his eyes off her, and at the end of the service Watson was the first to rush to her side.
Watson’s height and forbidding demeanor made most of the men who’d been eyeing Daisy pause. Even better, his position as deputy stopped some of those who might not have wanted to take no for an answer.
Luke should be grateful, for Daisy’s sake, that Watson’s presence kept the worst elements of Rattlesnake Ridge’s society at bay.
It still felt like employing a wolf to guard the henhouse from foxes.
* * *
After church Luke walked with his mother to visit his father’s grave while his stepfather went to fetch the basket of food. It was their ritual every Sunday he was in town. Luke had missed it the last few months while he’d been up in the high country.
Holding his mother’s hand as they stood before the carved headstone, one in a long row belonging to the miners who’d perished in the Spanish Main accident, Luke felt a sense of peace descend over him. He could almost hear his father’s voice, almost feel the steady hand of the tough old prospector who’d never struck it rich himself but had never stopped trying. He’d taken mine work to put food on the table for Luke and his mother but had still spent every day he could out in the mountains searching for his own mother lode.
“He’d have been so proud of you,” his mother said softly.
Luke turned to look down at her. “Can’t imagine why. It’s not like I’ve made a great deal of my life, is it?”
“Don’t you ever say that.” Maria Rockford Simpson gave her only son a stern look. “I couldn’t be prouder of the man you’ve become. This business of helping build the schoolhouse—yes, I know you’ve fallen head over heels for the new teacher. I also know you turned down Winthrop’s offer to pay you for the job.”
Luke shoved his hands in his pockets. “Don’t need the money,” he muttered. “I’d just cashed in my pay. What have I got to spend money on anyway?”
“A new coat might be nice. Especially if you’re going to be courting,” his mother teased. He made a face at her. She wasn’t wrong, though. In fact, he’d ordered one on Friday, a dark blue one he thought might look good with his eyes.
“I’m getting one, I promise.”
Seeing her pleased smile, Luke decided to let his mother in on a secret he’d been keeping very close to his chest. “Jack and I found something, up in the mountains,” he murmured, after taking a good look around to ensure nobody was close enough to overhear.
His mother’s eyes, as blue as his own, grew wide and her mouth opened with shock. “Silver?” she whispered back.
Luke pulled out the little nugget of ore he’d been carrying with him and showed her before slipping it back into his pocket. “I think so. I took some of Da’s old journals and maps up there with me, and we spent a few days poring over them, trying to make sense of his notes. That last winter when he came down from the mountains, he swore he’d found something promising, do you remember?”
“I do. And you think you found it?” Her voice rose with excitement, her hand clutching at his arm. “Have you been to see the assayer?”
“No.” Luke shook his head. “You know I haven’t trusted Mr. Garrett since that business with the deputy’s position. The assayer works right out of his bank, and I reckon Blake’s in Garrett’s pocket. I wouldn’t trust a word he says.”
“Goodness me—so what will you do?” She looked troubled.
“Take a ride into Reno. We’ll go after the schoolhouse is finished next weekend. I wanted to explain to you and Mr. S that we’ll be a couple days late getting back.”
“You’ve certainly earned the time off, my darling.” His mother smiled proudly at him, tucking her arm in his to walk toward the bench where Mr. S had just sat down with the basket. “I wish you the very best of luck, and you know I won’t say a word… but I’m so proud of you.” As she nudged him again, her smile turned cheeky. “Now, a man who owned a prosperous silver claim would definitely be in a position to support a wife!”
“Stop it, Ma!” Luke laughed, but he’d inherited his wicked sense of humor from his mother as well as his blue eyes.
“You tellin’ Luke to make sure he snatches that gal up before somebody else does?” his stepfather inquired as they strolled up to him, a grin plastered on his weathered face. “Mighty pretty lass, Luke. Took your time finding her, didn’t you?”
“She’s not my girl, Mr. S,” Luke insisted, taking a seat on the bench. With an anticipatory growl of his stomach, he accepted the napkin his mother gave him, folded around a thick sandwich filled with roasted beef and sliced pickles. “She’s got big plans for her teaching, anyway.”
“So?” Mr. S passed him a jug of fresh lemonade. “Court her for a year or so, no hurry. Give you time to build her a nice house an’ all.”
Luke blinked, startled. “What?”
“Gal like that needs a proper house of her own. Your ma and I have been talking.” Mr. S looked down at the untasted sandwich in his hand before meeting Luke’s eyes again. “You’re not my son. You was already growed up when Maria married me, but you’ve become a man any man would be proud to call his own. I ain’t got no kids, nobody to leave it all to. So, I want you to have the ranch after me.”
Shocked, Luke shook his head. “Stop talking like you’re gonna keel over, Mr. S!”
“I’m not far off seventy, Luke.” The grizzled old rancher smiled wistfully at Maria, squeezing his wife’s hand as she gave him a fond look in return. “I ain’t got all that many years left in me no matter how kind the good Lord’s gonna be. Yer ma would get it all anyway, and you after her. No point beatin’ around the bush. I want you to come into partnership with me now. Learn to run it all ‘fore I ain’t around to help.”
He didn’t know what to say. A little stunned, Luke just stared at his stepfather as he continued.
“Saints love her, your ma’s never complained about our little cabin only having the two rooms, but a ranch like the Shooting Star needs a proper ranch house. I’ve got a nice bit of land marked out on that little hill just north of our cabin. You build a proper house there and ask your schoolteacher gal to marry you then.”
It sounded too good to be true, like something from a story. Luke shook his head, dumbfounded. “You’ve got it all planned out, haven’t you? What if she says no or marries someone else?”
“Well then, at least you’ll be a man with a house of your own and a prosperous ranch to your name the next time a pretty gal catches your eye.”
Mr. S was philosophical about it, but honestly Luke couldn’t imagine wanting to marry anyone other than Daisy. He’d never met anyone like her. The thought of waiting a year for her while he built a house for them to live in was excruciating, but he knew Mr. S was right as well as extremely generous.
Leaning forward, he offered his hand. “Thank you. I’m more grateful than I know how to say, Mr. S, and honored you think so highly of me. I accept.”
Chapter 8
Daisy’s first week flew by, what with meeting new folks every day, unpacking the school materials Mr. Handley was keeping at the store for her, and finding her way around Rattlesnake Ridge. She hardly saw Luke except in the evenings, since he and Mr. Hollis seemed to be spending every last minute of daylight working on the schoolhouse.
Mr. Langhorne’s article about the school opening had appeared on the front page of the Rattlesnake Ridge Recorder on Wednesday, and on Saturday morning it seemed as if half the town turned out to complete the schoolhouse. All Daisy had to do was stand back and watch as the floor was scrubbed, the freshly-painted walls and windowsills wiped clean, the windows washed until they gleamed, and all the new desks and chairs carried in to be placed precisely where she wanted them.
Just outside of the schoolhouse sat tables groaning with food and drink, all brought in by the good townspeople. Matthew had provided a dozen large pies, savory and sweet, and a veritable feast was underway out on Hill Street. A party atmosphere had taken over the whole town. Inside, however, it was quieter with just a few people making everything perfect before the children arrived to start lessons Monday morning.
Mayor Winthrop had thought of everything, or almost everything. But Daisy was determined to put the final touches on the school herself. She watched with pride as posters she’d spent most of her free time that week laboring over were tacked up on the walls. Brightly colored paints spelled out the letters of the alphabet on one; another listed the numbers from one to twenty in words, numerals, and pictures. Mr. Langhorne from the newspaper had printed her a beautiful copy of the Lord’s Prayer, large enough to be read across the room. He’d promised to typeset and print copies of the Constitution, the Declaration of Independence, and anything else she might need too, assuring her he’d convince the Mayor to pay for it.
A powerful presence loomed behind her and Daisy turned, a smile springing to her lips in anticipation of seeing Luke. The smile died away when she found Grant Watson standing there instead. “Deputy,” she said stiffly. Try as she might, she couldn’t bring herself to warm to the man. He seemed to pop up everywhere she went in town. She found his presence and the intense way he stared at her decidedly unsettling.
Thankfully, perhaps, Deputy Watson seemed unaware of her distaste. “Miss Daisy, the schoolhouse looks wonderful. You should be very proud.”
“I haven’t done much at all,” she disclaimed. “Mr. Rockford and Mr. Hollis are the ones who’ve worked so hard to make this happen. Plus, all these wonderful people who’ve come to put on the final touches and make this feast for everyone to share.” She waved vaguely towards the door, hoping he’d take her hint and accompany her outside, where they’d be surrounded by people.
Deputy Watson’s nostrils flared for an instant, making his handsome face much less attractive. He didn’t acknowledge her words beyond a brief nod but instead just kept speaking. “I know how keen the children are to start school.”
“Oh? Which ones have you been talking to?” Daisy asked. She’d seen more of him than she’d wished to this last week. Each time she’d spotted him, he’d been standing aloof from others, watching what was going on with his arms folded, frowning forbiddingly. She couldn’t imagine any child willingly approaching him to volunteer information.
“Uh.” Deputy Watson blinked rapidly a couple of times. “I’ve, uh, heard people discussing it.”
“Really.” She drew the word out cynically, giving him the look she normally reserved for pupils she’d caught telling fibs.
The shadow of a scowl crossed his face before he forced a smile again. “It seems all done in here. You should come out and enjoy the festivities, Daisy. May I?” He offered his arm for her.
Daisy made no attempt to take it. “I prefer to be Miss Daisy to everyone, to avoid confusing the children.”
“But there aren’t any children here,” Deputy Watson pointed out.
“Then you may call me Miss Jackson!” Seething, she stormed outside on her own. How dare he! The arrogance of the man, thinking he could claim the familiarity of using my Christian name like that! She wanted to slap his face.
“Miss Daisy?” Luke’s voice came from her left. “Is everything all right?”
She almost clutched at him, grateful for his warm concern and the absolute respect he always showed her despite the dreadful start of her accidentally showing him her petticoat at the window. “Luke. There you are. Where’s Mr. Hollis?”
“Jack’s over there with Barb and the twins. What on earth is the matter?”
Knowing there was bad blood between Luke and Deputy Watson—Barb had told her all the details a few days earlier. Daisy had been outraged on Luke’s behalf, but she didn’t want to stir up any trouble. Instead, she made herself smile, hoping it didn’t look too false. “Mayor Winthrop’s going to officially open the schoolhouse, and I want you two there front and center. Today wouldn’t be happening if not for you.”
“Aw,” Luke looked bashful. “‘Tweren’t nothing, Miss Daisy.”
“It most certain
ly was not nothing, indeed. You come with me.” Grasping his hand, she drew him toward Jack Hollis. “And you, Mr. Hollis. I won’t have the pair of you hiding at the back of the crowd pretending you don’t deserve any praise for this.”
“Hear, hear, Miss Daisy.” Reverend Brown had been standing with Jack and Barb, and he nodded his head firmly. “These two have done the Lord’s work this week.”
“You’d best come along too, Reverend. I won’t teach in a house which hasn’t been blessed by a man of God.”
“I may be a man of God, but Miss Daisy’s a force of nature,” she heard the preacher murmur to Mr. Hollis as she turned to plunge through the crowd again.
“Amen to that,” she heard Mr. Hollis mutter in return.
She was still holding Luke’s hand, she realized, as she approached the schoolhouse steps. He’d curled his fingers around hers, holding on firmly. His hand felt warm and strong, the calluses telling a story of a life’s hard work. Glancing at him, she found him staring at their linked hands with a puzzled expression.
I should let go. But holding his hand feels so nice…
“There you are, Miss Daisy! Ah, and you have the men of the hour with you!” Mayor Winthrop greeted her as she approached the steps.
She let go of Luke’s hand with reluctance, aware all eyes would be on her. She felt bereft at the loss.
“Ready?” Mayor Winthrop asked, and Daisy nodded. “I’ll officially open the schoolhouse then invite you to say a few words, if that’s all right?”
“Perfect,” she agreed. From out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Samuel Langhorne hurrying toward them.
“And here’s Langhorne to make sure everyone knows all about it, although I think the whole town’s here already!” Winthrop chuckled before mounting the steps and turning to face the crowd. He tried to get everyone’s attention, but he couldn’t be heard over the gregarious collection of people.
Coming From California (The Pioneer Brides 0f Rattlesnake Ridge Book 2) Page 6
