Her heart was pounding so hard, she could hardly think. Case must be outside. Had he run away?
She pulled the door open without making a sound and stepped onto the back porch. Moonlight cast eerie shadows across the yard. The place looked threatening, hostile. And Case was out there.
Deborah paused to pray. “O God,” she whispered. “Help me find him. Please keep him safe.”
She heard a slight sound, a voice coming from the lean-to. Moving silently, she made her way to the door of the lean-to and peeked in.
Case, his nightgown-clad body illuminated by moonlight, stood at the foot of the pallet where Luke slept.
“Luke?” Case said in a loud whisper. “Luke, are you awake?”
Luke grumbled something, then sat up with a start. “Case? What are you doing in here?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I needed to talk to you.” A belated thought seemed to occur to him. “I didn’t wake you up, did I? I don’t want to bother you.”
Luke gave a deep, throaty chuckle. “Not much, kid. You know I always like to talk to you.”
Case pulled something from behind his back and thrust it toward Luke. “I brought you something. A going-away present.”
“That’s awful nice, Case, but I don’t need anything.”
Case took a step closer and pressed the parcel into Luke’s hands. “It’s my Bible. My very own Bible. It used to belong to my father, and when he died, Deborah gave it to me. I want you to have it.”
“Aww, Case—”
“A man ought to have his own Bible. Maybe when you read it, you’ll think of me.”
“Come here.” Luke directed Case toward his pallet and moved to the side to make a place for him. He patted the blanket. “Sit down.”
Case obediently limped across the dirt floor and sat.
Luke held up the Bible. “This is the nicest present I’ve ever received. But I can’t accept it.”
“Why not?”
“First of all, your father meant for you to have it. One day you’ll read to your children from it. Second of all, it’d be a waste to give it to me. I can’t read.”
Deborah hoped Case’s sharp intake of breath masked her own. “I didn’t know that,” Case said. “You never let on you couldn’t read.”
Luke shrugged. “I didn’t want you to know. You always said you thought I could do everything.” Deborah watched the proud man drop his head to confess, “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
Case threw his arms around Luke and held him tight. “You could never disappoint me, Luke.” After a second or two, he pulled himself away to say, “I wasn’t completely honest with you earlier tonight.”
“Oh?”
Case nodded. “Remember when I told you I liked you?”
Luke nodded.
“It wasn’t exactly the truth. The truth is, I love you, Luke.”
This time Deborah watched Luke take the initiative. He spread his arms wide and when Case moved into them, Luke wrapped him tight. “I love you, too, Case,” he whispered against the child’s hair. “I love you, too.”
CHAPTER 9
No regrets.
If he’d had it to do all over again, he’d have done the same thing.
Luke moved methodically through the small lean-to, gathering up his few possessions and stuffing them into his worn leather saddlebag. It didn’t take him long to pack. A man without roots didn’t accumulate things to tie him down.
His gaze swept the room, making certain he left nothing behind. Satisfied, he tucked his bedroll under his arm, tossed his saddlebag over his shoulder, and extinguished the lamp.
The door creaked as he pushed it open and stepped out into the yard. It was still dark as he silently made his way to the barn. He didn’t want to risk waiting around for sunrise before leaving. He didn’t think he could take the good-byes.
His mare nickered softly as he approached her stall. He reached out to stroke her head. “Looks like it’s just you and me again, Horse. You ready to hit the trail?”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
Luke whirled around to find Deborah standing in the door of the barn. She was dressed in her nightclothes, a gown and wrapper, her hair hanging in a long braid over her shoulder.
“What are you doing up?” he asked.
“Waiting for you.” She walked toward him, hugging her arms to her chest. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“Shoot.”
“I wanted to ask you to stay.”
Afraid she’d be able to read the relief in his expression, Luke turned back to his horse. “Why?” he asked, reaching for his saddle.
She closed the gap between them. “Because I don’t want you to go.”
He looked at her from over his shoulder. “Why?”
“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”
He turned to give her his full attention. “Last I heard, you said you wanted me out of here at first light. Are you telling me I heard wrong?”
She hung her head. “I’m telling you I made a mistake.”
He had to lean toward her to catch her whispered words. “I want you to stay, Luke. Case needs you. We need you.”
Luke was certain he’d never heard more beautiful words in his life. They needed him. Still, the woman had made his last twelve hours a living hell. No way he was letting her off easy. He kept his expression and tone grim. “Why the change?”
Her eyes downcast, she said, “After I had time to cool off, I realized you would never do anything to harm Case. You’ve been really good for him.” Her voice trailed off to almost nothing, “You were right when you said—”
“Do you mind repeating that?”
Confused by the interruption, she lifted her gaze to meet his. “Repeat what?”
He couldn’t suppress a grin any longer. “The part about me being right.”
She caught a glimpse of his smile and realized he’d been teasing her. She gave him a playful shove. “Wretch.”
Luke’s eyes shot wide with amazement. She’d touched him. First time ever.
She must have seen his astonishment because she beat a hasty retreat. She took three steps backward, nearly falling into a stall in her hurry. She cleared her throat. “So, will you stay?”
He nodded. “I’ll stay.”
A wide smile of relief lit her face. “I’m glad.”
For a moment they stood facing each other in awkward silence. Finally she broke it saying, “How about some coffee?”
“Sounds good. I’ll drop my stuff back in the lean-to, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
Deborah scurried off to start the coffee.
“What do you think about that?” Luke asked his horse. “She says they need me and want me to stay.”
He picked up his saddlebag and bedroll and headed out of the barn. “Doesn’t that beat all,” he marveled to himself. “They want me to stay.”
At the same instant Luke was entering the house from the back door, a sleepy-eyed Case stepped out of his bedroom and into the hall. “Luke!”
Case made a hobbling run and threw himself into Luke’s arms. “You’re back!” Suddenly his little face fell and he whispered, “Does Debs know?”
Luke nodded and whispered back. “Yup. She’s decided I can stay.”
“Yippee!” Case gave Luke a quick squeeze, then wriggled out of his arms to find his sister. Luke rounded the corner in time to see him launch himself at Deborah, nearly knocking her off her feet. “Oh Debs, you’re the best.”
Luke and Deborah spoke very little over coffee. Words didn’t seem necessary. By some unspoken agreement, yesterday would be forgotten, and they would return to the way things had been. After two cups, Luke went off to chop some wood and milk the cow while Deborah fixed breakfast.
By the time the sun was up and breakfast was on the table, an air of celebration seemed to have settled over the threesome. Luke and Deborah unbent enough to exchange more than one-syllable words, and Case chattered nonstop about anything
and everything. After lingering at the table much longer than usual, Deborah said reluctantly, “It’s time to start your lessons, Case.”
“Aww, Debs.”
Luke rose to carry his plates to the washtub. He needed to get on to work. He wanted to put in a low fence around the kitchen garden.
“Luke, I’d like you to join us for lessons today.”
Both Case and Luke turned to stare at Deborah.
“But—”
She raised a slim hand to silence Luke’s protest. “I must insist. Case’s concentration has not been at all satisfactory, and I believe that with your presence, he might be induced to put forth more effort.”
“But—”
She was already out of her chair and carrying off dirty plates. “Help me clear off the dishes, and we’ll use the table for lessons. Case, would you please get me two slates and two pieces of chalk?”
Case shuffled from the room.
Luke was feeling like a cornered rabbit. “Listen, Deborah, I don’t think—”
“Trust me, Luke.” He recognized the look of determination in her cool green eyes as she raised them to his. “It’ll be good for Case. And who knows,” she added with a flip of her head as she turned to walk to the washtub, “you might even learn something.”
He ought to tell her. Just get it over with and tell her straight that he was ignorant. Never spent a day in school in his life. He opened his mouth, but he couldn’t get the confession past his constricted throat.
He knew for a fact his shameful secret would be out the minute she pulled out a book and asked him to read, but still he didn’t speak. He didn’t have any learning, but he had his pride. He’d hold on to it for as long as he could.
“I found the slates, Debs.” Case held up one in each hand as he reentered the kitchen. He limped over to the table and placed one in front of Luke. “You can use the one that Debs used when she was in school.”
Luke eyed the small rectangle with a mixture of horror and dread. “Thanks.”
“Will you both please be seated.” Deborah stood at the end of the table, with Case seated on one side of her and Luke on the other. “First thing we’ll work on is the alphabet—that is the letters that make up words.”
Case tipped his freckled face up to hers, “But Debs, I already—”
“Case,” she said sharply. “Please do not interrupt.”
Luke had never heard her use that tone with the boy before.
“I’m sorry,” Case said.
She flashed him a smile before saying, “I will make an A on your slates. You will trace over it several times in order to see how the letter is formed, and then you will make a row of As on your own.”
She took Case’s slate, wrote something at the top, then handed it back to him. “You may begin.”
Case went to work.
She picked up Luke’s slate and chalk, made a mark on it, and handed it back to him. “Trace the letter with the chalk several times to get used to the shape.” She lightly traced over it as a demonstration before handing him the chalk. “Now, you try.”
Luke glanced from Case back to his own slate. This didn’t look too tough.
He scooped up the chalk, clutching it in his hand like a dagger, and pressed it to the slate.
“May I make a suggestion? I think it would be easier if you held it like this.” She positioned the chalk correctly in her hand for him to see.
It wasn’t so easy as it looked. Luke fumbled with the chalk, trying to copy Deborah’s grip, and ended up dropping it. It rolled off the table and onto his lap. His face burned. He’d never felt like such a clod in his life.
“I’m sorry,” Deborah said gently. “Holding such a small piece of chalk in your big hand must be extremely awkward. Let me see if I can help.” She moved a chair over beside him and sat down. “Give me your hand, please.”
He gave her his hand.
She smiled. “It’s a piece of chalk, not a rattlesnake. Relax, Luke.”
He blew out a long breath, rolled his shoulders, and forced the tense muscles in his hands to loosen.
“That’s better.” She swiveled his hand so the palm faced down. Carefully, she inserted the chalk between his fingers, stopping to bend the knuckles slightly or position a finger just so. “Good, now let’s trace the letter together.”
With her hand over his to guide it, they followed the outline of the A.
“Good. Now you try it.”
She watched as slowly, painstakingly, his chalk traced the letter. The wobbly, nerve-racking journey around the one-inch A was the most arduous work Luke had ever performed. By the time he picked the chalk up from the slate at the end of the letter, a thin sheen of perspiration had sprung up along his brow.
“Excellent. Go ahead and trace it a few more times, then when you’re ready, you can make your own As below it.”
Deborah walked back to the washtub to wash dishes. Luke rolled his shoulders again and shook out his cramped hand. He took a deep breath and traced over the letter again and again.
He looked up, mopping his brow with his shirtsleeve, to see how little Case was faring under this torture. His jaw dropped. The kid had already made two neat lines of As and hadn’t even broken a sweat.
Not one to be whipped by a scrawny seven-year-old, Luke bent his attention back to his own slate. Slowly he made the two lines for the sides, then added a crossbar. He sat back to assess his efforts.
Not too good. It didn’t look much like the letter Deborah had made. In fact, if he was honest he’d admit the A he drew looked like a tent listing after a heavy storm. He furrowed his brows and tried again.
By the time Deborah took pity on Luke and dismissed him, he’d made a creditable row of As, a rather disreputable row of Bs, and a fine row of Cs. In addition to forming the letters on his slate, he could also make the sounds associated with each letter.
Not bad for a first day’s work.
Luke was still marveling over his good fortune while he hammered fence posts around the garden plot. He’d had a whole morning of learning, and the subject of his ignorance hadn’t come up once.
At first he figured maybe Deborah didn’t know he hadn’t had any teaching, that she just wanted him to work alongside Case to keep him company. But when he bobbled the chalk and she had to teach him how to hold it properly, he knew she’d seen the truth—he was as dumb as one of these fence posts.
Still, she didn’t say anything. As far as he could tell, Deborah didn’t think it was a bit strange to be teaching a grown man his alphabet.
Luke raised the sledgehammer high over his head and brought it down on the post with a satisfying thud. He couldn’t remember ever being happier. His heart felt as light as a cloud.
This morning was easily the best of his life. To be told he was wanted and get some teaching all in one day. It was how he always figured Christmas ought to feel.
Even better than the feelings, which he knew wouldn’t last, was the fact that he was gonna be able to read. After all these years, he’d despaired of ever learning.
Of course, until a few days ago, reading wasn’t a priority. The only time he’d needed to read was when he was transacting business, and he got around that problem by trading with a select few men he knew to be honest.
It wasn’t until he’d heard Deborah read stories from the Bible that he’d begun to hunger for the ability to read. He wanted to be able to open that big black book and read it for himself. Imagine having access to that strange peace the Bible afforded him anytime he chose.
Luke lay on his pallet, his arms folded behind his head, looking up through the cracks in the ceiling of the lean-to at the starlit sky. The still night was full of noise, crickets chirping, owls hooting, and the occasional howl of a coyote.
Deborah and the kid had finally settled in; he’d heard her rattle the bolt on the back door one last time as she always did before she went to bed. He smiled into the dark. She surely did worry.
Luke was bone tired, the good k
ind of ache that came from a full day of hard work. He’d finished the fence more quickly than he’d anticipated. His head had been so full of plans that he didn’t even notice he’d been working.
He closed his eyes and tried to imagine the shapes of the three letters he’d learned today. A, B, C. Nothing to it. The way things were going, he’d have this reading business licked in no time. Next time he was in town, he was gonna buy himself a big black Bible of his own.
He smiled into the darkness. With a Bible and the mysterious peace it afforded, Luke’s wandering days would finally be over. Funny, that elusive thing he’d been seeking his whole life had been hidden between the pages of a book.
As he drifted off, he reminded himself to ask Deborah just how many letters were in the alphabet.
CHAPTER 10
Twenty-six!”
Deborah nodded, biting back a smile at Luke’s obvious chagrin. “At least that’s how many there were at last count.”
Luke’s dark skin paled. “They’re not adding more letters, are they?”
She laughed. “No. I’m teasing. The alphabet is set at twenty-six letters.”
“Twenty-six letters, each makes at least two sounds….”
She could see where his grumbling calculations were leading. “It’ll go faster than you think,” she reassured him.
“Some letters hardly get used at all,” Case added. “Don’t worry, Luke. You can do it.”
Luke shot a quick grin at Case then handed the chalk to Deborah. “A, B, C—what’s next?”
“D.” She drew one on the top of the slate. “Give me your hand.” She positioned the chalk in his long fingers and guided his hand as they traced the letter. “You make a straight line down, then go back to the top and make an arc that connects at the bottom.”
His hand was not quite so stiff beneath hers as it had been yesterday. His movements were slow and deliberate, but noticeably more relaxed.
“Good,” she said, withdrawing her hand. “Now you trace it by yourself. When you think you’ve got it, make a line of Ds below it.”
The Brides of the Old West: Five Romantic Adventures from the American Frontier Page 61
