Hidden in a Heartbeat (A Place Called Home, Book 3)

by Patricia McLinn

  After a moment, he growled, “Same as every morning. Working.”

  Fran raised her arms then let them drop in exasperation. “That’s just what I mean. That is just what I mean. Did you even know it was Sunday?”

  “So?”

  “So, Marti takes Emily to church and Sunday school on Sundays.”

  “Missing a couple won’t kill her.”

  “No, but it gives people fuel for saying you’re not a proper person to be caring for a little girl. And you should have known there’s folks in this town watching you like a hawk for a couple reasons – ” Fran’s eyes flickered toward Rebecca, and she knew that if Emily was reason one, she was reason two. “There’s already people asking questions about you taking care of Emily. And not just fools and busybodies. Good, caring folks who don’t know you from Adam, except for nods now and then, and rumors, because of course you’ve never taken the trouble to let folks get to know you.”

  “I don’t – ”

  “Don’t start with me, Luke. I know full well your theory on not caring what people think of you. But you’re responsible now for more than you for the first time in your life.”

  A pain so raw and deep burst across Luke’s eyes that Rebecca had to bite down on her lip to keep from crying out.

  “You have a responsibility to Emily.” Fran clearly had missed that flash of pain. “And I don’t just mean feeding her and keeping her healthy. She’s going to be unsettled with Marti gone, you know, and the more you keep things normal, the better.”

  “I...” He swallowed, and a muscle along his jaw jumped.

  “You hadn’t thought of that. Well, let me tell you, Luke, you’re going to have to think of a whole raft of things you haven’t come close to thinking about before, and you’re going to have to do it fast and do it right.”

  For the first time in her experience, Rebecca saw him both silent and apparently chastised. Fran’s voice, still brisk and brooking no disagreement, was no longer scolding as she went on.

  “If work keeps you from bringing Emily to church next week, call and I’ll come get her. Or you can probably fix something with Kendra or Ellyn. Go on and get back to that work you’re so loyal to. Just see that you get some rest. You look tired. And you, Rebecca – ” Rebecca jumped as the formidable woman’s attention fixed on her. “Stop by some time and I’ll give you a cup of coffee to make up for being caught in this.”

  She turned and steamed off, with no hint of a doubt that her instructions would be followed.

  Luke didn’t move for several seconds, apparently watching Fran’s departure. When he abruptly spun around toward Rebecca, they were face-to-face, not quite touching, but with the awareness that a deep breath, a shift of weight could change that. He stared down at her, his eyes turbulent.

  “You got something to say, too?” he demanded.

  “Have a nice day?” she offered lightly.

  He made a sound low in his throat, almost a growl, but some of the darkness lifted from his eyes.

  “See you, Rebecca.”

  And then he was gone.

  Rebecca’s shoulders dropped and her muscles loosened as her breathing gradually settled into its normal rhythm. At least she thought it was her normal rhythm. It seemed a long time since she’d been in that state called “normal.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Tells us the legend, Luke. Please?”

  Meg Sinclair pinned her wide-eyed, hopeful, trusting gaze on the foreman that Saturday night. Rebecca wondered if he thought he had any chance of withstanding that look, especially combined with the ones from Meg’s brother, Ben, as well as Matthew and Emily.

  Not that she wasted any sympathy on Luke Chandler. He’d pulled his version of the guileless look and innocent request on her late yesterday afternoon when he’d come into the office with Emily.

  They’d fallen into a pattern this week, with Rebecca working at Fort Big Horn in the mornings, then arriving at the ranch office. Each afternoon, Luke wandered in at some point to ask if Rebecca would mind keeping an eye on Emily for a bit while he did something or other that wasn’t safe for her to be around.

  Sometimes Emily colored, sometimes she cut out unseasonal snowflakes, other times she drew pictures. She chattered about the co-op, her friends, and what they did. References to Marti were a continuing theme. Rebecca enjoyed the time with the little girl, even though it pushed her departure time so late that she hadn’t done any library research all week.

  Well, that wasn’t the only reason she hadn’t made it to the library. She’d been fascinated by the first item she’d pulled from the envelopes Marti gave her – a photocopy of the journal of Charles Susland’s second wife, Annalee. Although the old-fashioned handwriting made it slow reading, the tales of the wealthy young woman from Cincinnati adjusting to a raw cattle ranch in Wyoming – as well as a husband who apparently had only rough edges – kept Rebecca reading late into the nights.

  Still, she’d made progress with her quest because when she’d arrived at the ranch office Monday afternoon there had been three large cartons of old records stacked on the floor. Neither she nor Luke mentioned their sudden arrival.

  Rebecca used the time Emily was with her to search those records. She’d spread out from names that indicated Indian heritage, yet still hadn’t found anything hopeful when Luke came in close to suppertime Friday to retrieve Emily.

  Luke’s eyes had flickered over the folders, but he didn’t mention them. Instead, he’d brought up an entirely unexpected topic.

  “Looks like the weather’ll hold through tomorrow night.”

  “Oh?”

  “Full moon, too. Good for a night ride and a campfire. Ever been?”

  “To a campfire? I suppose so, I don’t recall a specific – ”

  “You should come,” he’d interrupted firmly. “It’s a Far Hills tradition. We’ll ride out before sunset. Have some supper, and sit around the fire a while. Did it all the time as kids.”

  “Kendra and Daniel, and Ellyn and Grif, they’ll be coming?”

  “No. They got plans. Movie in Sheridan.” He seemed a little sheepish. Did that mean the two of them alone...? “Suppose you’d rather see a movie.”

  She loved movies. Stacked up against this, though, there was no choice. A ride under a full moon, a campfire with the darkness holding them close ....

  “A night ride and a campfire sound better than a movie to me.” But she had to know: “So who all would be going?”

  “You and me, Emily, Meg, Ben, Matthew. Payback for Kendra and Ellyn for their help this week.”

  And that’s when she’d seen that he was recruiting her as another babysitter.

  Not that she minded. This was better. Much, much better. She liked the kids and having them around eased that fluttering panic she’d felt when she’d thought he was asking just her. Yes, panic was what she’d felt.

  In fact, with the kids on hand now she even felt comfortable enough to widen her eyes at him in the firelight and say, “Yes, Luke. Tell us the legend.”

  Night before last, she’d read Annalee’s account of the tale she’d first heard from Evvie Richards – Leaping Star’s asking Charles’ help, his refusal, and her response. It was clear Annalee had believed wholeheartedly in the curse. It would be interesting to hear Luke’s version.

  “You all know it. I’m not going to – ”

  “Please, Luke,” said Emily.

  He sighed, but he also pushed his hat back, and began to tell the story of the Indian woman who’d given her heart to a hard man named Charles Susland.

  In the firelight, Luke looked to also be a hard man, the flickering light removing what little softness his face had and leaving only the bedrock of bone. But as Grandmother said, little things give someone away. What gave Luke Chandler away were a thousand small indications of his caring – about the ranch, about his friends, about Marti, about Emily.

  Later, as Luke carefully extinguished the fire and they prepared to head back, Rebecca was still
thinking about the legend and tonight’s teller of it. If Leaping Star had come to Luke ... no, he would not have sent his family to a reservation in the first place, he would not have placed his ambitions above those he loved.

  The moon was bright and the trail familiar and clear. They rode back at a careful walk. Luke had insisted Matthew ride with him and Emily with Rebecca. The fact that neither protested indicated how sleepy they were. The fact that a swell of warmth bloomed under Rebecca’s ribs at that mark of Luke’s trust in her riding indicated how sappy she’d become about his opinion. She knew she was a good rider. She didn’t need his approval.

  “Rebecca?” Emily’s drowsy voice came softly out of the night, and Rebecca’s momentary flare of belligerence went out like a kerosene lantern turned down.

  “Hmm?”

  “Will you be my aunt?”

  “I ...um, that’s not how it works, sweetie. Aunts come with your family, you don’t ask someone to be an aunt.”

  “Special families can be made special ways,” the little girl argued, and Rebecca suspected she was hearing a quotation from Marti. “At first I just had Mama, and Matthew and Kendra were my cousins. And then Daniel came, so he’s my cousin now too. And Grif – he’s a cousin. And since he married Ellyn, that adds Meg and Ben. I’ve got lots of cousins now.” She sounded like a miser counting her gold. “Luke’s sort of my uncle, only just us know that, so I don’t call him uncle. Just Luke, but he still is.”

  If Rebecca didn’t know better, she’d think those instructions might have come from someone who didn’t want any adults to hear the child innocently call him uncle and misunderstand the situation.

  “But I want an aunt,” Emily was saying, her voice growing softer and slower.

  “We’ll talk with your mom when she comes back, okay?”

  No answer came. Sleep had won this discussion.

  Chester’s motion created a rhythmic rocking. Around them the night chorus sounded of crickets, a distant owl, the horses’ hoofs and breathing, the stir of trees and bushes under the breeze. No human voices intruded on the chorus, in the darkness no sign of human effort showed itself.

  If she’d had someone to lean against, Rebecca suspected she would have fallen asleep as peacefully as Emily.

  An image of leaning back against Luke’s broad chest, his arms wrapped around her, his thighs bracketing hers, his groin pressed against her derriere, flowed through her nerve endings like a charge of electricity.

  They crested a hill then, and saw the lights and buildings of the home ranch. They were back to civilization, back to reality. And such notions were best left in the moonlit wildness of the open country.

  Luke brought his horse next to hers as they entered the barn area. Matthew was turned partly sideways, leaning heavily against Luke’s arm and clearly asleep.

  “Stay put,” Luke quietly ordered her. Meg and Ben were already leading their horses to where they could unsaddle them.

  With impressive ease, Luke dismounted, still holding Matthew. He placed the boy atop a nearby bale of hay, then came around to her side.

  In that instant, as he raised his arms to take Emily, still sleeping, from her, their eyes locked.

  She felt as if she’d found a way to live two moments in time at once. This one, and the moment in the Denver airport when Emily had taken her hand, and she’d looked up to see Luke glaring at them. Now she understood. He’d been fighting then what was happening now.

  For, reflected in his eyes, she could see the picture they made. Her holding the dark-haired child who could be mistaken for her own. The child with a cheek pillowed against her breast, her arms softly guarding Emily’s sleep. It was not only his vision that reflected to Rebecca, it was his reaction. The slow drop of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed hard. The audible breath he pulled in. The tightening of the muscle along his jaw.

  The gruffness of his voice finally broke the moment.

  “I’ll take her.”

  There was no way not to have contact as he reached for the sleeping child. His arm against her ribs, brushing slightly against her breast.

  There was no way to stop her body from reacting. She could only fight to keep the reaction from overwhelming her mind, searching for something – anything – to keep mind and body occupied.

  Luke had detailed Meg and Ben to care for the horses, and they clearly took that responsibility too seriously to let anyone else take part. So Rebecca settled on taking the leftover supplies from their hotdog and marshmallow roast into the kitchen. While she put away food and washed up the few items that needed it, she caught faint sounds from the second floor, where Luke was putting Emily and Matthew to bed.

  It was disturbingly cozy to hear those sounds, and to imagine Luke Chandler playing the role of father.

  She wiped hard at the counter.

  “You keep rubbing that one spot and I’ll be explaining to Marti why there’s a gully in her counter.”

  Rebecca spun around to find Luke leaning against the doorjamb.

  “I was ... thinking.”

  “You didn’t need to clean up.” He crossed the room, and lifted the coffee pot with a quirk of questioning brows.

  “Yes, thanks. I didn’t mind cleaning up. Emily and Matthew are asleep?”

  “Out like lights.”

  She took the coffee mug he offered and leaned back against the counter, at right angles to the position he took. “I noticed you didn’t tell them about the rest of the legend out there.”

  He kept the mug at his mouth, raising his brows over the top.

  “The part in Annalee’s journal that says it has to be resolved in five generations. Or didn’t you know?”

  “Sure, I knew. I figure if you don’t believe in it, why ruin a good story for some kids with an unhappy ending. If you buy the legend, it’s out of their hands anyway. Meg and Ben aren’t Suslands by name or blood, and Matthew and Emily are sixth generation. Besides...”

  “Besides, what?”

  His lips pressed together an instant before he answered with a lightness she didn’t entirely believe. “Marti’s got this theory that there’s only a third of the curse left to wipe out. She figures Daniel coming to find Kendra and their son, and all the work he’s done for kids, offsets old Charles deserting his and Leaping Star’s kids. Then Marti would tell you Grif coming back to Far Hills, making a life with Ellyn and the kids, and sticking around to make sure the area does okay when the army base closes makes up for Charles turning his back on people who’d helped him.”

  “So that leaves the part about Charles turning his back on Leaping Star.”

  “Yep.”

  “But ... are there other Suslands?”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying to Marti – there aren’t any more. So even if there were a curse, the Suslands are stuck with it – at least a third of it.”

  Rebecca would hate to think of any of the Suslands cursed in any degree. With the feel of Emily’s trusting warmth against her still fresh in her mind, Rebecca particularly rebelled against the idea of a curse looming over the child.

  “Luke, what are you going to do about Sunday?” Rebecca asked abruptly.

  “Haven’t decided yet.”

  “Oh, Luke, you better – ”

  “You could take her.”

  “What?”

  “You go to church, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but – ”

  “So, I could drop her off and pick her up when it’s over.”

  “People might wonder ... I mean – ”

  “What will people think.” Despite the flatness of his tone she felt flame race up her neck and into her cheeks. “Hell, Rebecca, they’ll probably think you’re trying to butter me up so I’ll tell Marti what a good job you’re doing.”

  “I already have the job, so – ”

  He clunked his empty mug on the counter. “Then they’ll think we’re sleeping together.”

  Sensations – remembered and imagined – flooded her nervous system, swamping
everything else. She knew that the image of sleeping with Luke was as clear on her face as the North Star in the Wyoming night sky. The only solace was she could see the image in his eyes, too.

  He turned away, putting his cup in the dishwasher.

  “Never mind. Maybe Ellyn’ll take her. I’ll figure something.”

  He dropped the subject then – both the explicit one about Emily’s churchgoing, and the one he’d raised with his comment about what people might be thinking.

  Meg and Ben came in shortly after, and they set up a game of Hearts until their mother and Grif came to get them just as Rebecca was leaving. So they wouldn’t have been able to talk about it anyway.

  Still, it irked her that he’d turned off the subject as easily as a spigot. Especially since it had haunted her every waking and sleeping minute.

  Come Sunday morning, it still irked her enough that she should have reveled in his knuckling under to Fran’s orders – at least to the extent of appearing in a crisp white shirt and creased jeans sitting in the back pew at church with Emily beside him. Beneath the impassive veneer of his expression, Rebecca caught a hint of something she told herself was discomfort. Because if it was vulnerability, she wouldn’t have been able to stop herself from going to him.

  Maybe that explained what happened later.

  Helen insisted on walking back with her to the house. Luke sat in his pickup, parked under a tree, obviously waiting to take Emily home after Sunday School. Helen started fussing in her usual way.

  “... and all I can say is I can only believe it was the prayers of the righteous that kept the roof of our church from falling in when That Man walked in. Why everyone knows he’s dated enough women to form a harem, and as for him and Marti Su – ”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Helen! Did you listen to a word of what Reverend Mickel said about tolerance, about charity, about not judging others? A single word?”

  Rebecca strode away with the woman spluttering behind her, and the smoke from a burning bridge smelling stronger every second.

  * * * *

  The office door opening was a godsend. Rebecca had been dying to talk to someone about her morning discoveries in the journal of Annalee Susland.