“It was love at first sight for me, but not for him, of course.” She sighed, tilting the cup again. She closed her eyes for a moment, and Luke thought she looked ancient, though she surely would not have been much older than his father. That would make her… midfifties.
“I made a play for him right away. He ignored me, and every other woman, but I kept talking to him. He had just come to town, looking for land to homestead. I could tell he didn’t hang out in saloons. He seemed uncomfortable. Then, as he was leaving, we heard a commotion outside. I followed him out the door.”
She paused for more tea.
“A man had taken a horsewhip to a young boy out in front of the saloon. It was a pitiful sight. Don’t know what the boy had done, but he didn’t deserve to have a beating like that. Luke stepped in.”
She stared into space, her eyes glazed as though seeing that horrible scene again. Then she shuddered. “The man pulled a gun and shot Luke. He fell facedown on the street, and the man yelled for the boy to get into the wagon. They tore out of town. The sheriff came but did nothing. Said Luke had no business interfering with a man and his family.”
When she hesitated, Luke finally found his voice.
“But he didn’t die then, did he? He wrote to us…”
“I took him to my place, had the doc with him, nursed him day and night. You see, he didn’t know a soul in this town. He was shot in the abdomen, a bad shot. I fed him broth, bathed him, cared for him. The doc said he would never”—she hesitated for a moment, then looked Luke in the eye—“be able to have more children, or live like a normal person again. He was messed up bad.”
Luke dropped his head, feeling all the love for his father surfacing from a remote corner of his heart.
“Luke, I never loved a man like I loved your father. I just knew I could heal his broken heart, and I didn’t care about the rest. Kansas seemed faraway, and I didn’t realize then how a person never stops loving someone. I thought the family he left behind would get over him. I told him he should write to you.”
Luke remembered the letter—short, vague, telling them nothing, really. Why hadn’t Pa mentioned being shot? It would be just like him not to want to worry Ma.
“My mother wrote back, but she never heard from him until—”
“Until I wrote her, saying he didn’t love her anymore, that there was no point in writing to him. As for your mother’s letters, I never gave them to him.”
Luke glared at her, a slow rage building in him. He stood up abruptly, bumping the table and causing the tea to slosh in its cup.
“Luke, he died within three months. I had so little time with him, but—”
“You had no right,” he snarled at her. “I thought the person I loved more than anyone had abandoned me. We nearly starved. And Ma believed—” He broke off, staring into space. What had she said on her deathbed?
“I don’t know what happened to your father, but I never stopped loving him, and I believe he still loves me. A love like ours never dies. Please go and see him for me….”
“Luke, you need to know this,” Jasmine continued. Her voice had grown weak, ragged. “He called your mother’s name when he was sickest, and he talked about you all the time. He said it was the reason he tried to save the boy outside the saloon—the boy was your age. He’d have given his life for you, Luke; and I think for a moment, that boy became you.”
Luke swallowed hard, as the anger began to fade. He sank into the chair, staring at this woman, trying to see her through his father’s eyes. She had cared for him, done her best to save his life. He supposed he should be grateful for that. Still, he couldn’t forgive her for…
Forgive. That word stuck in his brain. He could never seem to get away from it.
“I know what I did was wrong,” she continued faintly. “If you knew how I’ve been tormented by guilt all these years, you would know I have paid for my mistake. I know I should’ve written, but it became so painful I couldn’t face it. What I’d done, who I’d become. Guilt is a terrible thing, maybe stronger than love, if that’s possible.”
She came slowly to her feet and walked unsteadily to a corner cabinet. Opening the door, she reached to the very back. He watched her with tormented eyes, still too stunned to anticipate what she might say or do next.
“Maybe you’ll believe I’m telling you the truth if I give you this.”
She pulled out an ordinary-looking jar, unscrewed the cap, and withdrew a small leather pouch. He stared at the pouch, his mind tumbling back to the day he had said good-bye to his father. His father had placed the pouch in a secret pocket sewn inside his plaid woolen shirt.
Now Luke stared at the pouch, the image of his father’s strong hands etched in his memory from that day.
“Take it,” she said. “It belongs to you and your mother.”
Luke took the pouch and opened it. It was filled with money. He looked up at her, puzzled and confused.
“I never took a dollar out of there,” she said, gripping the edge of the table as she sank slowly into the chair. “It was bad enough that I had stolen another woman’s husband. Somehow I couldn’t bring myself to take the money, too.”
Luke didn’t know what to say. He looked from the money to the woman. “I don’t want it,” he said at last, thrusting it across the table to her. His hand touched the tea, knocking it over. The brown liquid seeped across the table. He set the cup upright and looked around for a cloth to wipe up the mess. The woman didn’t seem to notice.
“Don’t be a fool,” she snapped. Her dark eyes bored into his. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to get that money to you and your mother. I was determined to think of something, but I was running out of time…”
She had turned deathly pale. Her breathing made heavy rasps in the still kitchen as she reached for her tea.
“What’s wrong with you?” Luke asked, watching her tilt the cup again.
“A lung disease. I haven’t much time left.” With shaking hands, she set the cup down. It made a hollow clunk on the wooden table, accenting the silence that filled the room. Jasmine lifted bleak, desperate eyes to Luke’s face. “I don’t know what kind of miracle brought you here. But I’m glad you came.”
Luke stared at her, somehow pitying her, wanting to offer comfort, yet unable to do so. This woman had brought them years of pain and heartache. He didn’t hate her anymore, but he was not ready to be kind.
He knew she had read the emotion on his face because she cupped her chin in her hand and closed her eyes, as though defeated.
“Please, leave now,” she said, reaching over to place the pouch in his hands again.
He opened his mouth, started to speak, then fell silent, unable to find words. His mind was like a flying jenny whirling around and around, while his heart pounded and his hand tightened on the pouch. The leather was soft, warm. He looked at it, feeling the last link with his mother and father.
Abruptly, he stood, tucking the pouch in his pants pocket. Again, he tried to say something to this woman, but he could not; so he turned and walked out of the house, closing the door softly behind him.
CHAPTER 19
Suzanne paced around the waiting room of the doctor’s office. Three days had passed, and she had not seen or heard from Luke. Suzanne and Hank had driven past the ramshackle address Tillie had scrawled on the paper, but upon seeing Smoky tethered out front, they decided not to intrude on the private moment. He must’ve ridden fast, to beat us to the house like that, Suzanne mused to herself. Had he found his father? Or had he found someone at that address who had sent him to another town? Why hadn’t he let her know what was going on?
Her father was responding well to the medicine, and for that, she was thankful beyond words. Still, she couldn’t stop thinking of Luke. She was ready to swallow her pride and try to locate him if he hadn’t left town already.
She thought back to the conversation she and her father had had while James, Miss Martha’s nephew, had driven them to Dr. Crownover’s
office in his small buggy. James was a tall, gangly young man of nineteen who vaguely reminded her of Art Parkinson, though he had more class. He worked for Miss Martha as chauffeur, errand, and delivery boy.
“I’ve asked everyone I’ve come in contact with about a Luke Thomason,” Hank had blurted the name that was uppermost in their minds, though neither had spoken. “Nobody knows him; he must have left here years ago.”
“And now Luke’s gone, too,” she had responded with uncharacteristic pessimism.
Hank had said nothing more. She knew he was disappointed, as well. How could Luke have left without telling them good-bye?
“Miss Waters.”
The sound of Dr. Crownover’s voice pulled her thoughts back to the waiting room of the doctor’s office.
Her eyes flew to the doorway of his private office, where he now stood, wearing what she hoped was a pleased smile. “Could you step in here, please?”
“Of course.”
He was going to give them his opinion on Pa’s heart condition now. She wrung her hands tightly before her and followed him into the cozy room where her father sat in an armchair opposite the doctor’s desk. She settled into the other armchair, giving her father a reassuring smile.
The little doctor came back around the desk and took a seat. He looked at them with keen hazel eyes that had taken on a pleasant sparkle, Suzanne noticed. He shuffled through the papers on his desk, reading something briefly, then looking back at them.
Why doesn’t he hurry up and say something? Suzanne thought wildly, wondering if she and her father could contain their suspense for another moment.
Dr. Crownover cleared his throat. “I’m pleased to report that Mr. Waters’ heart rate is slowing down to a normal pattern since he’s been on the medication. And all the other tests indicate good health.” He smiled, looking from Suzanne to Hank. “I believe you can go back to the ranch now. Just check in with me every three months. Or sooner, if there are any problems.”
“You mean we can go home now?” Hank yelled, as excited as a child. “I’m going to be all right?”
“As all right as a man of your temperament can be!”
“Thank God,” Hank said, dropping his head for a second.
Suzanne jumped up to hug her father. “Oh Pa, I’m so relieved. Now we can go back to teasing and arguing and living a normal life!” She laughed as tears of happiness filled her eyes. She turned to the doctor, wanting to give him a hug as well. She refrained from doing so, sensing that such a gesture would simply embarrass the shy little man.
“The fussing will be up to you two.” He grinned. “I am going to require him to give up his pipe, and limit his coffee to one cup at breakfast.”
Hank moaned, but Suzanne placed a hand on his shoulder. “Can he still work with his horses?”
Hank’s eyes shot to Dr. Crownover.
The little man studied Hank for a moment, then grinned. “I wouldn’t think of denying him that pleasure. Just be reasonable about doing anything strenuous.”
A grin spread over Hank’s thin face. “Thanks, Doc.”
Suzanne opened her purse and withdrew the money she had earned on the cattle drive.
“We can’t thank you enough, Dr. Crownover. How much do we owe you?”
The doctor shook his hand. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to use your father as a guinea pig, so to speak.”
Hank’s gray brows peaked. “Beg your pardon?”
Dr. Crownover chuckled. “Don’t be offended. It’s simply a medical term for asking a patient to try out a new drug. You aren’t the first patient to use this drug, but you are the oldest. I’d like access to use your records in my teaching and writing, if you have no objection.”
“No, Doc. Don’t reckon I mind if someone else could be helped.”
Suzanne looked from the doctor to her father, then back again.
“You mean we don’t owe you anything?” She couldn’t believe it.
“You’ll have to buy your own medicine when those I gave you run out,” he said. “And the medicine is a bit expensive.”
“We can manage,” Suzanne said. “Thank you.” She threw her arms around the man heedless of his awkward stance.
“You two are setting off on that long journey back all by yourselves?” Miss Martha asked incredulously.
“Suzanne and I will make it just fine,” Hank replied. “Don’t trouble yourself any. Now, if you can figure up our bill, we’ll be on our way.”
Miss Martha fidgeted with her apron strings and shook her head. “I owe Mattie a big favor, one I’d feared I’d never be able to repay. She never comes to town.”
Suzanne had entered the large kitchen, where her father was drinking a glass of ice water rather than his usual coffee. Upon hearing the conversation, Suzanne walked over to Miss Martha’s side.
“I don’t understand. What does your owing Mattie a favor have to do with us?”
Miss Martha grinned. “Well, seeing as how you two are special friends of hers, I consider you guests in my home. I couldn’t allow you to pay.”
Suzanne looked from Miss Martha to her father.
“Oh no, ma’am,” Hank protested. “We can’t intrude on your hospitality that way.”
She shook her head. “Mattie and her dear husband spent a winter here once. She became the best friend I ever had in my life. I can’t count the times she insisted on cooking the evening meal when I was worn out or feeling poorly. This is the least I can do for Mattie. But”—she looked Pa over with mischievous blue eyes—“you can pay me back by showing kindness to her. She’s pretty fond of you.”
Hank shuffled awkwardly, tugging at the lapel of his coat.
“We’re fond of Mattie, too, aren’t we, Suzanne?” He looked desperately at Suzanne, trying to conceal his embarrassment.
“Of course we are. Mattie has become a good friend, too, Miss Martha. And I think Pa feels the same way.”
“Well, if we can’t pay you, we’d best get on our way,” he said, hurrying from the kitchen.
Suzanne stared after him for a moment, then looked back at Miss Martha. “I hope you don’t think he was abrupt,” she said, a bit embarrassed.
Miss Martha shook her head and grinned at Suzanne. “No, I just think he and Mattie are kind of sweet on each other.”
Suzanne bit her lip, trying to suppress a laugh. “Well, that’s fine with me,” she said, hugging Miss Martha. “Thanks for all you’ve done for us. When we come back in three months, it has to be understood we’ll be paying guests. Otherwise…”
“All right, it’s understood. I’ll look forward to your coming. Just drop me a note in advance if that’s possible, so I can have your rooms ready.”
Suzanne stood in the immaculate bedroom, her eyes scanning every corner. The cherry four-poster bed and matching dresser and washstand had been a sweet taste of luxury, a reminder of the home she had left behind in Denver. Yet, she did not feel sad about returning to the ranch. With extra money the doctor and Miss Martha had refused to take, they could now buy another horse or two, and make it through summer. She was looking forward to going home.
She was saddened by the fact that Luke hadn’t stopped by before he’d left for… wherever he had gone. But perhaps there was a reason for that. She had foolishly blurted out her love for him—and he had expressed love for her. But he had also told her, in so many words, that he was not ready to settle down.
What had he said? He had to straighten his life out first. He had asked her to be patient, but what did he expect? He knew they would be returning to the ranch soon.
Maybe he had thought it would be easier for both of them if he left without a good-bye.
She reached down to snap the lid on her trunk. She had to stop thinking about him, but even as she made that vow, an ache filled her heart, reaching to her throat. She hadn’t allowed herself to cry over him. She’d been too busy being grateful about Pa. And it seemed wrong, somehow, for her to be crying when she should be so relieved, so happy that
the medicine was working for Pa.
Still…
The trunk blurred before her as the tears she had fought now slipped over her lashes and down her cheeks. I can’t help thinking of him. And I can’t help loving him, she thought miserably.
There, she had admitted it again. Maybe she’d feel better.
James knocked on her door. “Are you ready, Miss Waters?” he called politely.
“Yes, I’m ready,” she said, glancing around the room to be sure she hadn’t forgotten something. “Come on in.”
He smiled shyly as he entered, and she thought about how kind he had been to them.
“I hope you have a good year at the college.”
Miss Martha had confided that her nephew was attending the prestigious college here in Colorado Springs.
“Thank you.” He smiled.
She’d never get to go to college, but someday she would like for her children—
She halted her train of thought. It appeared unlikely now that she would ever marry. The only man who’d ever appealed to her had ridden out of her life forever.
“I’ve put your father’s satchel in the buggy.”
Suzanne nodded. “All right. I’m ready.”
“Don’t forget your letter,” he said, reaching for the trunk.
Suzanne stared at him. “What letter?”
“The letter on the hall table.”
Suzanne rushed past him, her skirts flying about her ankles. As soon as she spotted the envelope and saw Luke’s scrawl, her heart began to hammer. She tore into the envelope and removed the brief note bearing today’s date. Today?
Dear Suzanne,
I came by to see you this morning, but you and your father were still at the doctor’s office. I’ll be back around noon. I have some business to take care of, but when I’m finished I’d like to see you back to the ranch.
Love,
Luke
Suzanne reread the note as relief, then happiness, flooded through her.
“Pa, wait!” she called, running out the front door.
Luke swung down from Smoky and tied the reins to a sapling. He retraced his steps up the walk to the same cabin where only three days ago he had heard the most startling story of his entire life. He had spent these past days alone in the boardinghouse when he hadn’t riding over the countryside, pondering his life and his future. He had purposely stayed away from Suzanne and Hank until he had sorted through his feelings. Now he had—and he knew exactly what he wanted to do.
The Brides of the Old West: Five Romantic Adventures from the American Frontier Page 14
