“That all right with you, Lord?” He aimed a glance up toward the starlit sky.
Silence, both inward and outward, was all he heard in reply. Zephyr, on the other hand, shook his head from side to side. If Edmund didn’t know better, he’d think his stallion was a mind reader.
* * *
Once Lula May saw Edmund to the door and watched him ride away, she was surprised by how empty the house felt, even though the children were making the usual amount of noise as they got ready for bed. Just getting the taciturn man to talk about himself—a self-defensive move she’d employed to keep from blurting out too much about her own life—had brought about something special. Knowing he’d been an orphan like her, one who’d had a kindly old mentor, again, just as she had, moved her deeply. Maybe the day would come when she could tell him the truth about her past.
Even as she thought it, her heart plummeted to her stomach. It was time to face the bad news about that past. After hearing the children’s prayers and tucking in the younger ones, she made her way to her office and dropped into the leather chair behind Frank’s large oak desk.
As she pulled Uncle’s newly arrived, unopened letter out of the top drawer, a feeling of dread washed over and through her. After all these years, what could that cruel man possibly want from her?
Chapter Four
Well, girlie, you’ve had plenty of time to answer my letter, so there are either of two situations keeping you from employing the common courtesy I taught you. Either you have chosen to ignore your poor old uncle, your only living relative, who did so much for your ungrateful self when you were growing up like a weed. Or you are in some kind of trouble, and you need my help. As you well know, I always see to my duty, no matter what it costs me, so I am packing my bags and coming out there to find out what your problem is.
I understand you have two stepsons, who no doubt resent you for taking their mama’s place, and two sons of your own. With their pappy dead, they are likely all hard for you to handle, so I’ll do what I can to straighten them out. As for that girl, I can see to it she does not turn out like you, although it might be too late for that.
You can look for me to arrive next Monday, July 1, on the three-thirty afternoon train. I will expect you to pick me up at whatever run-down station you folks have out there. Bring a buggy that can carry luggage because I am bringing a trunk so I can stay until I solve all of your problems. I will also expect you to return to me the property you stole from me when you ran away like a cheap floozy to marry that run-down old man and abandoned all the good sense I tried to teach you.
Your loving Uncle Floyd
Terror ripped through Lula May. He truly was coming, and the reality of it made her feel as if she might lose her supper right into the wastebasket beside Frank’s desk. Worse, Uncle seemed to know all about her children, but how? After his first letter, she hadn’t bothered to try to figure out how he’d found her. But now she realized most any cowboy who’d ridden through the area would have heard about her because of her horses being available for sale. Knowing Uncle, she had no doubt he’d hired someone to search for her and, once he found out where she was, to learn all he could about her and the children. And yet none of her friends had mentioned anybody asking such nosy questions. The local ranchers might have been reluctant to let her join their cattlemen’s association, but not a one of them would tell a stranger details about her family. She trusted their integrity without a doubt.
Good thing she put off reading this horrible letter until Edmund left and the children were in bed. What with preparing a big dinner and doing other chores, she hadn’t had time to read it, even though her mind wandered in that direction from time to time while she mended socks, each time stirring a hiccup of concern in her chest. Now that she’d read it, the bad news was worse than anything she’d expected. What was Uncle talking about when he said she’d stolen something of his? She’d never stolen anything. According to Frank’s will, this ranch was hers and everything on it, with provisions for each of the children when they reached adulthood.
When she’d run away eleven years ago—escaped, actually—from Uncle’s cruel control of her life and his plans to marry her off to that horrid old man, she’d packed very little in her small handmade carpetbag. Only a change of clothes and a few mementos of her parents, none of which held any monetary value. She searched her mind for what he could be talking about.
Ah. Yes. There was something. She’d taken the pearl-and-diamond necklace her mother had left to her, one of the few things she’d carried with her when she was forced to move from Ohio to Alabama after her parents’ deaths. Mama had inherited the jewelry from her own mother. When Lula May arrived at Uncle’s house as a twelve-year-old, he’d rifled through her few belongings and had laid claim to the necklace. He argued it was his by rights because his mother’s will stated she had disinherited Lula May’s mother for marrying a Yankee. But Lula May contended that Grandma gave Mama the necklace when she turned sixteen, four years before the marriage. Uncle claimed Lula May was lying and locked the necklace in his safe. She hadn’t seen the jewelry during the six years she’d suffered under Uncle’s tyranny.
Then, as she’d made her plans to run away, Lula May had tried to think of what she would need to survive alone in the world. Mama’s necklace was the only thing of value she could take honestly. While Uncle’s cook, Annie, plied him with her tasty fried chicken, Tobias had found a way to open Uncle’s safe, and Lula May had helped herself to the jewelry. Even after she’d answered Frank’s advertisement for a mail-order bride and moved out here to Little Horn, just having it tucked away had given her a sense of security.
Now, in the event that some lawyer or judge decided the necklace did belong to Uncle, Lula May couldn’t give it to him. Three years ago, when Frank became ill and money got scarce, she’d taken it to a jeweler in San Antonio and sold it to save the ranch. While she still had some of the money in the bank in town, it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy Uncle. Maybe he’d try to take the ranch away from her. What would she do then? He’d probably threaten in all sorts of horrible ways and carry out those threats if she didn’t comply with his orders. If she understood the law correctly, a male relative could demand custody of children from a widow. The thought of Floyd Jones raising her children sickened Lula May.
She folded her arms on the desk and laid her forehead against them. In all these past eleven years, even when Frank became ill, she’d never felt so helpless. Or frightened. She had no doubt Uncle would do anything to gain control of her. Of her ranch. Her children. But one thing was sure. She must not let the children know either how afraid she was or the danger they all were in. Just as when Frank fell ill, just as when it became clear that he would not recover, she would keep this matter to herself. Frank had been a private person, so he’d let her manage the ranch without hiring a cowhand to help, as he’d wanted her to do. She’d never have done that anyway. Besides, there wasn’t a single person in the world she could turn to. The men who’d been so reluctant to let her join the cattlemen’s association because she was a woman would likely muscle in and take over simply because she was a woman. It all seemed so hopeless. How in the world would she manage these next few days until Uncle arrived? How would she manage to protect the children with him in this house?
After a few minutes, she sat up and huffed out an impatient breath. That was enough self-pity for one day. For one calamity. She would manage this situation just as she had everything else in her life, and protect the children while she did it. In another year or two, Calvin would be old enough to shoulder some of these burdens with her, but for now, it was up to her to do it alone. She’d smile and be cheerful and hope for the best. That attitude had gotten her through Frank’s illness and death. It would carry her through whatever trouble Uncle brought her way.
* * *
Tasty fried rabbit, creamy mashed potatoes and gravy, and butter
y string beans couldn’t distract Edmund’s attention away from the dark circles under Lula May’s eyes. Last evening he’d failed to learn what troubled her, and with her too-happy smile and strained laughter, he doubted she would open up to him tonight, either. Even so, he had to try. Had to obey the Lord’s prompting to help her whether she wanted him to or not.
When supper ended and the children began cleanup, he just short of invited himself to stay for the evening by sticking around and studying the pictures on the parlor walls. The one over the mantelpiece in particular stood out, Frank’s wedding picture with his first wife. He looked real young and strong, not at all like the frail man who’d died last winter. His wife—Emily?—looked too frail for the rigors of ranch life. Edmund thought it curious that such a picture hadn’t been put away eleven years ago when Frank married Lula May. With not a hint of dust coating the mahogany frame, the bowed-out glass shone bright and clear, Edmund could see she even took good care of it. Interesting.
He wandered over to the bookshelf and studied the two rows of books to see whether she had anything he hadn’t added to his own library. Maybe they could exchange books from time to time once their agreement was over. Fortunately, when Lula May joined him in the parlor, she didn’t chase him away, though her pretty face lacked the welcome offered the previous nights. Edmund harbored no fears that her change was due to him. Something wasn’t right here, and he was determined to figure out what it was.
As on the previous nights, she took up her sewing basket, this time holding a frilly pink something or other no doubt intended for Pauline. Yet as she sat with those items on her lap, her fingers remained idle. Edmund settled in Frank’s chair and tried to think of some way to start a conversation. Lula May usually had so much to say about, well, just about everything, yet tonight she was quieter than a mouse hiding from a cat and almost as skittish. Edmund supposed it was up to him to say something, but what did women like to talk about? Pretty dresses? Bonnets? He’d make a fool of himself if he brought up either of those.
“I’ve been wanting to ask you.” She broke the silence, much to his relief.
“Yes, ma’am?” He couldn’t stop a small grin, but she kept her eyes on her sewing and didn’t seem to notice.
“Do you favor the gold or the silver standard?”
Edmund choked back a laugh. He sure didn’t want to insult her, but he had no idea women thought about such things. But then, he’d already seen that Lula May wasn’t like other women he’d met. Then again, he’d never known any woman very well, not even his sister-in-law.
“Well...” He drawled out the word to give himself time to think. “A man—” he stopped to clear his throat, his mind scrambling to find a way to include her “—or a woman who runs a ranch or a business has to think about which one can back the US dollar without failing. I’m convinced gold will be the best choice. It’s always been considered the most valuable ore, even way back in Bible times.”
“Hmm.” Her eyes lit up with a hint of a challenge. “That’s true. But that doesn’t mean silver lacks considerable value. We don’t have any idea how long our US gold fields will continue to produce. Look what happened during the California Gold Rush. I don’t think our silver mining has been tapped to its full potential. At least that’s what I’ve read in Frank’s business journals from New York. What with this bad economic depression the country’s been in these past two years, it doesn’t seem to me like gold has backed our dollar very well.”
Was she just being contrary? Or did she have something there? In truth, Edmund really only knew cattle ranching. Beef generally sold well enough no matter how the economy fared in other parts of the country, and he hadn’t suffered any significant losses during this current depression, except for those stolen cattle.
“I read that many businesses have failed back East—” She paused to bite off a thread, then rethreaded her needle. “There’s high unemployment, especially in the larger cities. Of course that’s led to violent strikes and such. I suppose these issues will affect next year’s elections, especially the presidential election.” She clicked her tongue like she was scolding somebody. “I don’t know what those strikers think they can accomplish by destroying businesses that are trying to recover, that are trying to provide the very jobs those strikers want.”
Edmund grunted his agreement. She’d changed the subject a couple of times while she was talking right then, a habit of hers he just realized he got a kick out of because she never ceased to surprise him. And nobody since Old Gad had ever been able to draw him out the way she could. After only three nights, it seemed only natural to add his own thoughts.
“It’s pretty funny when some of those Easterners come out here trying to be cowboys.”
“I’d imagine so.” She rewarded him with her first real smile of the evening. “But you can’t fault them for trying. Better than going on strike and destroying things and hurting people.”
“That’s true.” Edmund chuckled. “Maybe after we get these Young Ranchers trained, we should open a school for tenderfoots wanting to be cowhands.”
Her musical laugh, which seemed to come from way down deep inside, warmed Edmund’s heart. He hadn’t dug out the cause of her sadness, but at least he’d cheered her up. That would have to do for now. If the Lord wanted him to do more, He’d have to provide the opportunity.
As the children wandered into the parlor from their chores, Pauline and Daniel carried in apple pie with fresh cream for dessert. Calvin brought out the checkerboard, set it up on the coffee table and settled in a chair across from Edmund, a challenging glint in his eyes. Another warm feeling settled over Edmund. After tonight, he had only two more evenings with this family, these good people, and he was going to enjoy every minute.
* * *
All day long, determined to put Uncle out of her mind, Lula May had worked hard to come up with ideas to talk about with Edmund. She really had no idea whether the gold or the silver standard was best for the country. Nor did she concern herself too much with next year’s elections since women couldn’t even vote and she didn’t have a husband to represent her opinions. What she did know was that she liked the way Edmund’s bright green eyes lit up at her challenge to whatever he’d said. Talking with him was downright enjoyable. Oh, how she relished these evening talks. She’d noticed him perusing the bookshelves. Did he like to read? By tomorrow night, she’d come up with some ideas for conversation about her favorites. Right now, she enjoyed watching him interact with Calvin over checkers. She liked that he gave her stepson no advantages. And Calvin had no trouble holding his own because he’d learned the game from his father.
Only a smidgen of guilt pinched at her heart over enjoying another man’s company so soon after Frank’s death. After all, her husband had told her to marry again, the “last thing I’ll ever order you to do,” he’d said in a joking way only a week before he died. Yet Frank had always been too gentle to order her to do anything. Which had made her all the more eager to please him.
Still, order was just the right word to remind Lula May that she would never take orders from any man because of the way Uncle had been. It was all well and good to enjoy Edmund’s company on these warm summer evenings, but that was as far as she could let him into her life. From the wily look in his eyes as he played checkers, she could see he had hidden depths, hidden strengths. He was a man who was used to being in charge, and all of her conversational challenges to him were intended to let him know she wouldn’t be pushed around.
As for Uncle, she was already arming her emotions so he’d never get the chance to beat her down into submission with his cruel words, as he had all those long years ago when she’d arrived on his doorstep a helpless twelve-year-old orphan.
Thinking of him, she couldn’t keep from glancing toward her office, where his vile letters lay in the top drawer hidden under some other papers so the children wouldn’t happen to see
them. But her stomach began to ache as it had off and on for the past twenty-four hours. Her respite from worry was over, and she heaved out a sigh that was far louder than she’d intended. Only Edmund looked her way, and one fine brown eyebrow lifted in a questioning manner. The temptation to confide everything to him nearly overwhelmed her. Then Calvin jumped three of his checkers and gave out a hoot of victory. Her momentary weakness dissolved, and she pasted on a smile.
“I do believe he’s got you there, Edmund.”
* * *
The next evening as Edmund and Jacob rode into the Barlow barnyard, Edmund felt as if he were coming home. That was a dangerous feeling, but he couldn’t help himself. In spite of Lula May’s random bouts of peevishness, nothing but good things had happened to him at this house over this past week, even losing that one game of checkers to Calvin last night. The meals were the best food he’d ever eaten in his thirty-three years, including those black-eyed peas. He couldn’t wait to see what Lula May had cooked up for tonight. But the best part of the week had been exchanging thoughts and ideas with her. He got a kick out of the way she went off on tangents but always came back to the original discussion.
He could almost say that he’d grown more at ease with her. With them, he amended. Last evening, their discussion began to flow more naturally, and he didn’t feel self-conscious when he spoke his mind. Nor did he feel embarrassed for talking so openly to her about his past. The woman was stubborn as a mule, but that was all right. He’d come to realize that running this horse ranch required a strong, assertive person, just as running a cattle ranch did. He’d even begun to enjoy the way she became so animated and engaged while they talked.
Tonight he would try to get her to talk about some of those books she had on her shelf. He’d seen a copy of Dickens’s A Tale of Two Cities, which he’d wanted to read for a long time. Maybe she’d loan it to him. He also wanted to know more about what brought an Alabama plantation girl to Texas as a mail-order bride. Coming from North Texas, he didn’t know much about other areas of the South and had always assumed all of the plantations had been destroyed during the War between the States. Of course, if she got to talking about something else, he’d go along with whatever it was.
A Family for the Rancher Page 6
