by Jule McBride
Hearing approaching voices, Claire glanced around. After a moment, she recognized one of them as Luke’s. He said, “So, you still can’t think of where else Clive might have gone?”
“Like I said,” returned Evander, “I think he had business in Douglas and Laramie, maybe Cheyenne. You’d know better than me, since you went through his calendar book. But still, it’s hard to say. My son’s always going off on his own.” Lifting a hand, Evander waved and called out, “Didn’t know you were here, Claire.”
As she turned from Shadow’s stall, her eyes trailed from the snow-touched brim of Luke’s black Stetson, down to the open shearling jacket he wore over a blue flannel shirt and jeans. His lips parted slightly—in surprise at finding her here, she guessed. She glanced at Evander. He’d once been the spitting image of Clive, tall and lean, with bowed cowboy legs and blue eyes, but illness had left him thin and pale. His sparse hair was dark now, shot through with gray, and his face was almost gaunt. He shoved both hands in the pockets of tan Carhardt coveralls he wore under a jeans jacket.
“Why are you out here?” he asked as he and Luke approached. “Something wrong?”
“No, Evander,” Claire replied casually, her eyes still locked on Luke’s. “Everything’s fine. I’m just worried about finding Clive, that’s all.”
Luke was eyeing her, seemingly wishing they were alone. “When I’m through talking with Evander, mind if I have a word with you, Claire?”
She shot him a glance of censure, since his look implied he wanted to question her further about Clive’s disappearance, not something personal.
“If you don’t mind,” Luke added.
She minded. Last night the depth of love she felt for Luke had shaken her, and now she had no intention of bringing him any closer, not unless she saw a sign that he was ready to accept the kind of love she had to offer. “Well,” she said, aware Evander was watching them, his sharp blue eyes curious, “I’ll try to catch up with you, Luke.”
His jaw set at the lack of commitment. “I’ll look forward to it.”
“Me, too,” she shot back, avoiding Evander’s quizzical gaze. Taking long strides toward the door, Claire told herself what she had for years—that it was in the best interest of her heart to stay as far away from Luke as she could get.
* * *
SIGHING AS HE WATCHED Claire go, Luke reached into his shirt pocket and plucked out a toothpick. Popping it into his mouth, he wondered how Claire could be so distant. After last night, it unsettled him to think she might really fear—or decide—that their relationship was too problematic to pursue.
Luke was still fighting the impulse to leave Evander and follow her when Evander said, “You two know each other, son? I mean, you were together yesterday when I met you...”
Luke managed a nod. “From back in school.” And the bachelor auction last summer. And bed last night. Leaning against the stall where Claire had been a moment before, Luke gazed into the frail old man’s eyes, feeling guilty. Hours ago, the woman that this man thought was his future daughter-in-law had slept like a kitten in Luke’s arms. Daughter-in-law, he thought again. Well, she will be if she marries Clive, anyway. Which she still might if you don’t do something about it.
In the interest of keeping his professional and personal lives separate, Luke said, “Thanks for taking the time to see me again today.” Fishing the notebook and pencil stub from his shirt pocket, he prepared to write. “I’ve got a couple more questions. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Nope.” Hitching his pant leg, Evander rested a boot on top of an upturned feed bucket. “Go ahead. I’ll answer anything you can throw my way, son.”
Son. After his exchange with Claire this morning, that was the last word Luke wanted to hear. It definitely opened old wounds. If he’d had a pa, maybe he’d understand how to better handle his feelings for Claire. Suddenly, Luke thought of how Brady had run through the snow toward the mail truck, the Santa letter pressed against his chest. Luke figured Brady would walk barefoot through the snow—or hot coals—if he thought it would bring him a man who would call him son. Funny, Luke thought now, how folks threw around the simplest words, never knowing how they affected other folks. “Like I said while we were walking over here,” Luke forced himself to continue, “I was wondering if you’d heard of an outfit called Cheyenne Mining?”
“Nope.”
“What about parties looking to buy your ranch? Are there any?”
“The Lazy Four?” Evander shook his head. “I’d kill ’em first. So would any of my four boys.” He laughed ruefully. “Some days I think that’s why we call it the Lazy Four, though. Those four boys have plenty of other things keeping them busy, besides the ranch. Not that I complain. Fact is, I wish Clive could get somebody to help him out.”
“So, there’re no prospective buyers?”
“Not a one, son. But there’s a consortium with an interest in the area, the folks who were considering buying Lost Springs. And my neighbor to the north—that’s Clayton Ford—why, I bet he’d love to get his hands on my land. But like I say...” Evander chuckled softly. “Fat chance.”
Luke couldn’t help but smile in appreciation. “It is a gorgeous spread.”
“Wish Clive had more interest.” Evander sighed. “But it’s computers he loves. He spends all his spare time designing programs. Since I got sick, I know he feels he’s got to stick around and run the ranch. And hell, I guess he does. But it’s a shame he can’t go to school in Cheyenne.”
“Cheyenne?”
Evander nodded. “For years he’s talked about taking a degree, so he can get a job in the computer industry. But he’d have to move somewhere else to do that kind of work. Anyhow, it’s just talk. Now he’s settling down and marrying Claire.”
Luke felt more than a twinge of guilt. “First, let’s find him,” Luke said.
“I’m not that worried,” returned Evander. “Like I say, he takes good care of himself. He’ll turn up. He always does.”
Luke tamped down another rush of unwanted emotion as he glanced around at the well-kept stables. The world was at Clive’s feet and the man didn’t even seem to care. It was possible he was simply off somewhere, having a good time. Suddenly, Luke’s eyes settled on a blue-and-white-checked blanket that was tossed over an inside wall of the stall. He hadn’t noticed it before, and now his breath caught. “Where did that come from?”
Evander squinted. “What?”
Luke nodded at the blanket, his heart pounding. “That blanket.” It was identical to the one he’d had when he was found on the porch at Lost Springs.
“I was going to ask you...” Evander began, then he changed horses in midstream and continued, answering Luke’s question, “We order those blankets in bulk from a wholesaler in Cheyenne. The hands use ’em. Don’t rightly know how that one wound up in here, though.” Evander peered at Luke a long moment. “When I heard your name yesterday, something started niggling at my mind, and I just figured out what it is.”
“What?” Luke managed to say, his mind reeling. Obviously, someone connected to the Lazy Four had known him when he was a boy, or had at least given him a similar blanket. Had Luke’s pa been a cowhand here? Had his mama worked in the house?
“Years ago,” said Evander, “we had a hand who went by the name of Luke Lydell. Was your pa named Luke, too?”
Luke didn’t exactly want to go into his family history with a near stranger, but his chest constricted and once more he felt strangely breathless. “It’s possible,” he said, trying to tamp down the hope he felt, since it would probably only lead to disappointment. “I was raised over at Lost Springs.”
Evander looked relieved. “Then he couldn’t be a relation. The authorities would have known you and him was kin.”
Luke’s heart sank. “Authorities?”
Evander nodded. Suddenly looking p
ained, the older man simply sat down on the overturned feed bucket where he’d previously propped his foot.
“Maybe we’d better head back,” Luke said, seeing how tired Evander looked.
The man gazed up, shaking his head. “Glad you walked with me, from where we parked the cars. I needed to get out, son. My wife, Jenny, has conniption fits if I go anywhere alone.” Evander laughed softly. “It’s nice of her to worry so much, but I don’t intend to die anytime soon. Anyhow, what I was going to say was that Luke Lydell—the cowhand we hired—wound up in the state pen. When he worked here, he was always getting tanked up on liquor, so we finally tossed him off the Four. After that, he got caught messing with the government. Some kind of mail fraud, I think.”
As the horse sidled closer, Luke ran a palm down his neck. How was he connected to Luke Lydell? he wondered. Maybe the cops had simply overlooked the connection and the ranch hand was his pa. Hadn’t Luke always thought his folks might be criminals? After all, what kind of people left a kid on a doorstep?
Lydell. It wasn’t even Luke’s real name, just a name taken from the label in a lost blanket. Luke guessed there was no real reason for anybody at Lost Springs or the sheriff to know that the Lazy Four had mass-ordered the blankets. “Was this man white?” Luke suddenly asked.
Evander gazed at him thoughtfully. “White as aspirin.”
Luke’s heart sank. “That so?”
“White-blond hair, blue-eyes.”
Luke had straight, blue-black hair and dark skin. His pa might be white, but probably not white-blond. “In the past, did anyone ever come here, asking about one of these blankets?”
“Like who?”
“Like the sherrif?”
Evander shook his head, the focus of his eyes sharpening and becoming more curious. “Not to my recollection. But they’d have asked in the bunkhouse, not at the main house.”
The Lazy Four was too big an operation to bother the owner about such a matter, Luke thought. And boys moved in and out of Lost Springs all the time. Maybe no one had even tried to trace the blanket. “Who would have been the boss here? Say, twenty-five years ago?”
Evander scratched his chin, thinking back. “A man by the name of Dusty Hooper, I think. But he’s long gone. Mind telling me why you’re asking?”
Luke shrugged. “Just a question.”
“If you want to know about our blankets,” Evander continued, still eyeing Luke critically, “you could check with the current cowhand boss, Jim Sanford. He works under Clive, and he keeps all the employment and inventory records. We keep pretty good track of things we give out to the hands. Jim’s gone for the holidays, but he’ll be back in town January 2.”
“Thanks for your time,” Luke said, wishing he didn’t have to wait to find out what had happened to Luke Lydell’s blanket. Was it possible they’d assigned it to another cowhand? Had someone other than Luke Lydell given it to a girlfriend? Or to Luke’s mama?
Just as Luke was turning to go, Evander cleared his throat and said, “Before you leave, I’ve got a favor to ask.”
As much as Luke wanted to get out of here and process the information he’d just heard, he liked this man. During the walk from their cars to the stables, they’d hit it off, talking about ranching and bull riding, and now Luke felt glad to be of use. “What can I do for you?”
“To tell you the truth,” said Evander, scratching his chin thoughtfully, “I figure Clive’s got a case of last-minute cold feet. He’ll show up for the wedding tomorrow, mark my words. No man misses his own wedding, right?”
“Right,” Luke replied.
“After you came yesterday,” Evander continued, “I checked you out. Turns out you’re just about the closest thing to a P.I. we’ve got in Lightning Creek. You used to be a cop, too.”
Luke nodded. “A state cop, out of Cheyenne.”
This was no news to Evander. “I should have known about you, but...well, for years...let’s just say I kind of stick to my own neck of the woods. Truth is, I haven’t been off the Lazy Four since February a’fore last, when Clive talked me into riding to Cheyenne with him. Anyhow, son, I’d like to hire you.”
This was the last thing Luke expected. “For?”
“Well, it’s a long story....” Evander began. And then, from his seat on the feed bucket, Evander started telling Luke about a woman he’d loved but had never married. “She was a maid at the main house, a Crow woman who came off the reservation.” Evander sighed. “She never did think she was good enough for me. Hell, she was backward, uneducated and unsure of herself. But I didn’t finish college, myself. Forgot half of what I learned in high school, too. And I was proud of it. I was a rancher, born and bred. What did I need with a bunch of books? But all this woman could see was how much money we got from the land.”
“A spread like this is worth a fortune,” Luke said.
Evander shrugged. “I never gave a damn for money. All I wanted was Laura.” He glanced at Luke again. “Laura Blackfeet. That was her name. Back then, my ma was still running the main house and—unlike Jenny, my wife—Ma had some real citified ways. You know, serving dinners with three forks and dressing up in fancy clothes. I tried to tell Laura she could adjust to us and learn to feel comfortable in the house. Or that we’d move away. But Laura said she couldn’t take me from the land I loved, and she couldn’t fit in here. Not even when she got pregnant.”
Luke had been listening carefully. “She got pregnant?”
Evander nodded. “And then she took off. Just like that. Never saw her again.” The old man’s voice suddenly cracked. “She...” Reaching inside his jeans jacket, he pulled out a photograph. “You might think it’s strange, son,” he continued, “but Jenny and my boys know all about her. I couldn’t hold anything back from Jenny. She’s the best friend a man could ever have. And since I got sick, I wanted my boys to know they had more kin somewhere, in case my other boy never shows up.” Evander held out the photograph. “Here’s Laura. She was pretty, don’t you think?”
Taking the black-and-white photograph by a frayed edge, Luke gazed into it, and his breath left him. It was a face he’d seen in his dreams; for years, it had haunted him. He took in the sad dark eyes, proud mouth and long, flowing hair. An image of her wearing a yellow dress filled Luke’s mind while Evander continued talking, describing how an investigator he’d hired followed her trail out of state.
Was it possible Laura Blackfeet returned to Lightning Creek? Luke wondered, his heart thudding dully against his ribs. Had she come with her young son? Was she his mama? Was that why he remembered the Lazy Four? The strangest sensation washed over Luke. He could almost feel the texture of that yellow dress against his cheek. It wasn’t of summer fabric as he’d thought, but of coarse wool. Now Luke was sure they’d sat together in a parked car. Hidden by a stand of trees, they’d stared down the long, snowy driveway to the Lazy Four as a shiny red car approached. A man and woman were in front, with two babies in back. Had the adults been Evander and Jenny?
“The man I hired finally found her,” Evander was saying, shifting his weight on the uncomfortable-looking bucket. “But that was years after she’d gone. By then, I’d married Jenny and we’d had our first two boys. Turns out, Laura had died in a hospital of breast cancer.” He blew out a sigh, adding, “On a Crow reservation.”
Dead? She was dead? Luke felt oddly unbalanced. Had he found his mama only to discover she was dead? He could barely find his voice. “What year did she die?”
When Evander named the year, Luke’s heart missed another beat. She’d died shortly after Luke was left at Lost Springs. “Which reservation?” Luke managed to write it down when Evander told him.
“Thing is,” Evander continued, “one of the nurses said she kept calling my name when she died, and she was talking about our boy.”
Luke could barely believe what he’d heard. I
t seemed so impossible. But everything fit. Laura Blackfeet could have taken Luke Lydell’s blanket when she left the Lazy Four. Maybe when she found out she was ill, she’d tried to return to Evander with their son, only to find that Evander had since married and begun a new life with Jenny. Knowing she couldn’t care for an infant much longer, and probably having nothing of monetary value to give him, she’d taken her son to Lost Springs, knowing he’d at least be clothed and fed. There was no doubt in Luke’s mind that Laura Blackfeet was his mama.
Luke’s eyes settled on Evander. He was a white man. He looked as if he’d once had blond hair, too, but it was dark blond, like Clive’s. Evander bore little resemblance to Luke, except in eye color.
“Will you take the case?” Evander asked.
Luke managed a nod, but he already knew the answers in his hammering heart. He stared down at the man who had to be his father. He tried not to think of the wasted years—that the mama he’d never known was gone and his pa was ailing. But did Evander really want to know the truth now, as he professed? Or was this search the normal course for a dying man to take...a man with unfinished business? Evander had grown sons by another woman, after all. Luke glanced away, his heart now heavy with the thought of how easily Evander Stoddard had begun—and lived—a full life with a woman other than the one he seemingly loved most. Could Claire still do that with Clive?
“You feeling ill, son?”
Son. The word pounded through Luke’s head. “Fine.”
“You looked a little peaked there for a minute.”
“I’m okay,” Luke repeated.
“Well...you’re right good company, so if you’re not in a hurry, I’d love to show you some of my cars.”
Luke needed to get away and think. “Cars?”
“Antiques,” said Evander. “Collectibles. I’ve even got an old red ‘59 Caddy. She’s a beaut.”
Feeling unsteady, Luke leaned a hand against the stall. His heart was pounding so hard that it rushed in his ears. Was Evander’s red Cadillac the one he remembered from his childhood? “Maybe another time,” Luke managed to say, thinking he’d sneak out to the garage and look. He didn’t want to be with Evander when he saw the car. He wanted to be alone.
