The Brides of the Old West: Five Romantic Adventures from the American Frontier

by Peggy Darty, Darlene Franklin, Sally Laity, Nancy Lavo

Her brother peeked over his slate, watching Luke’s halting progress like a proud parent. She’d spoken to Case last night when they were alone. She explained she’d overheard their conversation and knew Luke couldn’t read. When she told him of her plans to teach Luke, Case agreed to do whatever he could to help, even if it meant the supreme sacrifice of “relearning” the letters he’d mastered two years ago.

  She noted Case hadn’t made a single mark on his own slate. She hated to scold him, but it was necessary to keep up the pretense. “Get to work, Case. I’d like to see some Ds.”

  He smiled at her, then bent over his slate.

  Her students occupied, Deborah settled back in her chair to do the mending. Case’s pants were torn at the knee, and the cuff of one of Luke’s shirts was frayed. She pulled a spool of brown thread from her sewing basket and threaded her needle.

  Every few stitches she’d glance up to see how her students were progressing. It was hard not to admire the determination she saw shining in Luke’s dark eyes. It had to be humbling for a proud man to sit hunched over a child’s slate, struggling to learn the alphabet, but Luke hadn’t let that stop him.

  Lips pursed and brows locked in concentration, he worked the elementary exercises with the same diligent care she’d seen him use in everything he undertook.

  At that moment, Luke raised his slate to her to display the neat line of wobbly Ds. He was proud of his misshapen little letters, though she could see he tried to conceal his pride behind his customary unreadable countenance.

  “Excellent, Luke. Very nice indeed.” The gleam of pleasure her slight praise brought to his eyes touched her heart. “I believe you’re ready to go on to the next letter. The letter E.”

  After she’d gotten him started on Es, she returned to her mending. Her brother’s pants finished, she rooted through her basket to find the right shade of thread to repair Luke’s shirt. It needed red, not the bright red of an apple, but the rich, muted red of a barn. She hadn’t failed to notice he looked particularly handsome wearing the color; it seemed to enhance his skin tone and raven black hair.

  She pulled out several possibilities and laid them against the sleeve to choose the closest match. She marveled over the quality of the shirt. The fine weave of the fabric and tiny perfect stitches indicated this was no homespun garment, but a costly one.

  She surreptitiously raised her eyes from her work to watch Luke labor over the straight line of Es. It occurred to her that he was very much a mystery.

  He appeared to be a drifter, with no aspirations to better himself, yet she’d never known a man with a stronger work ethic or a more rigidly defined sense of honor. He couldn’t read or write, but she’d witnessed his uncanny skills with numbers when he helped Case with his arithmetic yesterday. He appeared to have little interest in money, yet his few possessions were of the highest quality.

  He kept himself from them, preferring to remain aloof, yet she’d seen the delight in his eyes when Case followed him around, and there was no mistaking the genuine emotion in his voice the night he told Case he loved him.

  Who was this man, Luke, who had somehow become a part of their little family? Deborah was determined to find out.

  One week later, the threesome was again gathered around the table after the breakfast dishes had been removed to do their lessons. Deborah had come to look forward to “school,” as they’d begun to call it. Fact was, it had become her favorite part of the day. Through the enforced confinement of the “classroom” they’d developed a comfortable camaraderie that banished any loneliness she’d felt being so far from home and family.

  Luke lifted his slate, with a completed row of Us, for her approval. “How’s this?”

  “Very nice,” she said. “And now I have a surprise for you.”

  “You’re going to tell me that the bit about twenty-six letters was all a joke, and that U is the last one I have to learn?”

  She laughed. “No. Better than that. You now know all the letters you need to know to write your first name.” She took his chalk and slate and printed L-U-K-E beneath the row of Us, then handed it back to him.

  “L-U-K-E. That’s my name, huh?”

  His attempt at being blasé failed miserably. She could see he was excited to see his name written down and was champing at the bit to try writing it out for himself.

  “Give me your hand.” With her hand over his to guide it, they traced the letters together.

  He’d come a long way in a week. His hand no longer faltered over the letters, instead his movements were smooth and confident. Truthfully, he didn’t need her to help him trace the letters anymore, but she liked to do it.

  No doubt a shameless hussy, she enjoyed the warmth of his large capable hand beneath hers, the contrast of her fair skin to his bronze hand. Worse, she liked to hold his hand because it gave her an excuse to sit close to him. It sent lovely little shivers up her spine when her shoulder brushed against his broad shoulder or chest.

  And he smelled so good. She wasn’t sure why, since they all used the same soap, but Luke smelled different. Better. While he was engrossed in his writing, she’d lean forward, ever so slightly, and breathe deeply, filling her senses with his manly scent.

  It was ironic, really. She was the one who’d been so insistent that they have no physical contact, and now she found herself counting the minutes until she could touch him again.

  She might be a hussy, but she wasn’t a fool. She never let on to Luke that holding his hand was anything more than the obligation of a dutiful teacher. A teacher who’d almost worked herself out of a job. There were only five letters left. She was mightily tempted to add to the original twenty-six.

  Case watched Luke writing his name. “That’s great. Say, what’s your last name? Deborah can show you how to write both.”

  Luke’s hand stopped in midstroke. He raised his eyes to Case. “Luke’s the only name I’ve got.”

  “Everybody’s got two names, Luke,” Case insisted. “Maybe you just forgot the other one.”

  Luke shook his head. “I’ve only got one name. You’ve got to have a father to have two.”

  “You don’t have a father?”

  Deborah was aware that, along with her brother, she was staring at Luke, awaiting his answer.

  Luke looked down for a minute, as if choosing his words carefully, then spoke. “I don’t have a father who claims me.”

  There was a long, awkward pause before Case said, “Oh.”

  Poor Luke. Deborah could cry to see the hurt behind his brave expression. His tone had been light as he’d said the words, but it was obvious they pierced him all the way to his heart.

  “Tell us about your mother, Luke,” she said, trying to steer the conversation to safer, happier ground. “Is she still alive? Does she live nearby?”

  His dark eyes took on the strange shuttered look she’d seen before when she’d probed too deeply. “She died when I was five. In Oklahoma, on an Indian reservation.”

  Case looked stricken. Deborah knew he must be thinking of his own circumstances. “You were just a little boy when she died. Who took care of you?”

  “I took care of myself,” Luke said with a careless shrug. “Seemed nobody wanted a part-Comanche, part-white kid.”

  “Did you stay on at the reservation?”

  “For a while. As soon as I could, I took off. I traveled around doing odd jobs for a meal or a place to stay.” It was obvious by the way he spoke that the memories were uncomfortable, even painful.

  “Is that where you met Cyrus?” Deborah asked.

  Luke’s face brightened. “Yeah. Ol’ Cyrus didn’t care that I was a half-breed. He told me that the way he figured it, one human was as good as the next.” He lapsed into thoughtful silence. Finally he said, “Your uncle Cyrus is a good man.”

  Deborah resolved to look upon her uncle with a little more charity. He might have exaggerated the charms of his house and left it in a shambles, but he evidently was the first, and maybe the only person to
show Luke kindness. She lifted a silent prayer to heaven that God would repay Cyrus’s hospitality a hundredfold.

  “You know, Luke,” Case was saying. “Jesus says the same thing as Uncle Cyrus. He loves everybody the same. Even cripples and half-breeds.”

  Luke shot him a grin. “Your friend sounds like a real nice guy.”

  Deborah labored with a heavy heart for the rest of the day. No matter what she did, her thoughts returned to the glimpses Luke had given them of his childhood.

  Preparing meals reminded her of a little boy forced to work for every scrap of food. As she turned the mattress and changed the linens, she imagined the kind of cold, dirty places a homeless child would be forced to sleep in. When she fussed at her brother for his table manners, or his dirty face and hands, she tried to imagine what it would be like to grow up without anyone to care.

  When Luke and Case washed the evening dishes, Deborah slipped into her room to pray. “What do You want me to say, Lord? What comfort do You have to offer a man who’s known rejection his whole life?”

  Each evening while the men washed the dishes, Deborah put on a kettle of water to heat. After the dishes were put away, she’d add the boiling water to a tub of cold water for evening baths. Without servants to haul and heat the water, hot sink-down-to-your-neck baths were a luxury to be enjoyed once a week. The rest of the time, they made do with the tub of warm water on the kitchen table, a washrag, and soap. A modicum of privacy was achieved by sending the others to another room.

  After everyone had washed off the day’s grime and Luke had dumped the water out back, they settled in around the stove for Scripture time. Tonight, as Deborah arranged her skirts and opened the Bible on her lap, she was moved to do something different.

  “Tonight we’re not going to continue where we left off last night in the story of the Israelites.”

  Luke’s disappointment was clearly visible by flickering lamplight.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you told us this morning, Luke, and I was reminded of a psalm where King David describes God’s position to the fatherless. It is Psalm 68:5–6.” She flipped to the verse and began to read. “‘A father of the fatherless, and a judge of the widows, is God in his holy habitation. God setteth the solitary in families: he bringeth out those which are bound with chains: but the rebellious dwell in a dry land.’”

  Deborah looked up from the passage. “If my understanding of this is correct, God has been watching out for you all along, as a father to the fatherless. Furthermore, I believe He directed you to us”—she glanced down at the Bible to reread—“God setteth the solitary in families.”

  “It says all that?”

  She nodded.

  He was out of his chair and at her side. “Where?”

  She pointed to the verses with her finger. He looked down at the words for a moment, but with his still-limited knowledge of letters, it was useless. He heaved an impatient sigh and returned to his chair.

  “Maybe you’d better read it again,” he suggested. “So I can catch all the words.”

  Deborah lay awake long after Case’s breathing had developed the slow cadence of sleep. Sleep eluded her. Her mind was cluttered with thoughts and impressions of the day. She’d made progress in solving the mystery of Luke and, at the same time, uncovered a new mystery.

  His questionable parentage and lack of upbringing seemed to explain his reticent nature. Uncle Cyrus’s unprecedented kindness to the unwanted child gave credence to Luke’s determination to repay Cyrus by looking after her and Case. He’d learned to work hard from necessity.

  When she thought about his childhood, a deep sense of grief and pity welled up within her.

  But when she thought of Luke and the man he’d become, she had nothing but admiration for him.

  Necessity and rejection might have molded him to a point, but the fact that the hardships he’d faced hadn’t defeated him filled her with respect.

  Luke was a fine, honorable man she’d come to esteem highly.

  The mystery she now faced was, how had he come to mean so much to her and what was she going to do about it?

  CHAPTER 11

  That’s all for today, gentlemen. Case, would you please put up the slates? Luke, since you’ve completed your alphabet, I want you to spend the next few days in review before we start something else.” After issuing her instructions, Deborah got up from the table and headed out to the hall.

  Luke watched her go, enjoying the gentle sway of her skirts. He was surely going to miss the alphabet lessons. Especially the hand-holding.

  While he was delighted to have completed the alphabet, he was sorry there’d be no more reason for Deborah to place her slender hand over his to guide him around a letter. If he hadn’t been in such a hurry to learn to read for himself, he’d have told her he couldn’t do so many letters each day. At least that way he’d have extended the touching for a few more days.

  It wasn’t just the hand-holding that made learning so pleasurable. He liked it when she scooted her chair real close to his.

  At first the writing part made him break out into a sweat, but after a day or two, it wasn’t the letters that got him worked up. It was the woman.

  Up close he could appreciate the fine, creamy texture of her skin. He could admire her long, thick lashes and the way the tip of her tongue peeked out from between her lips when she concentrated real hard. Separated by just inches, he could feel the warmth of her body and smell the sweet fragrance of her hair.

  It made him sweat just to think about it.

  Maybe it was a good thing there were only twenty-six letters. Any more and he’d dehydrate.

  Deborah reentered the kitchen, tying on a wide-brimmed straw bonnet over her hair. “I’m going to plant my seeds this morning. Case, do you want to come?”

  “Do you need me?”

  She looked surprised at the question. “Not really. I just knew you always enjoyed watching me put in a garden.”

  “If you need my help, I’ll be glad to come with you, but if not, I think I’d rather go with Luke.” He flashed her a sheepish grin. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

  She laughed. “I don’t mind at all. You two go along. But remember to be back by noon for lunch.”

  Case followed Luke to the barn, like a puppy trailing at his heels. “What are we going to do today, Luke?”

  “I thought we’d ride out across the place—check things out.”

  “You gonna take Horse?”

  Luke nodded. “Beats walking.”

  “You and me are both gonna ride Horse?” Case asked for clarification. “Together?”

  Luke nodded again.

  “Yippee!” Case hopped up and down like a crazed grasshopper. He chattered excitedly while Luke saddled Horse and led her out of the barn into the sunlight. “She sure is big. She sure has pretty eyes. I wonder if she likes the taste of hay. How much do you think she weighs?”

  Luke grinned at the steady stream of talk. “You ready?”

  Case’s gaze traveled the long distance from the ground to Horse’s back, several feet above his head. He swallowed hard. “Yup.”

  Luke caught him around the waist and gently lifted him up onto the saddle.

  Case’s green eyes widened. “This is so high.”

  “You sit up by the horn,” Luke instructed him. “I’ll ride behind you.”

  Case moved forward and Luke mounted behind him, putting an arm around either side of the boy. “You take the reins.”

  Case swiveled to face him. “Me?” he squeaked.

  Luke nodded.

  Case took the leather straps in his hands with a white-knuckled grip. “So how do I make her go?”

  “Give her a little nudge with your leg.”

  Horse, as well-trained a mare as any Luke ever had, responded to the slight pressure by walking.

  “I did it!” Case exclaimed. “I made her go.”

  What was it about the kid that made the simplest things enjoyable? “Okay now, lea
d her around the house and out the front gate.”

  Case lapsed into a rare silence as he directed his full concentration on steering the horse. Once past the gate, Luke instructed him to keep to the dirt road that edged the property.

  After they’d walked along for several minutes, Case asked, “Can she go any faster?”

  Luke checked over his shoulder. The house stood between them and Deborah. He was certain even her eagle eyes couldn’t see them. Seemed prudent she didn’t witness them moving along at anything beyond a leisurely pace. “Yeah, she’ll go faster. Better give me the reins.”

  Luke pulled Case closer to brace the boy against his body. “Hold on to the horn. Ready?”

  He felt Case nod.

  Luke slapped the reins and Horse shot off at a full gallop. As her long strides ate up the road, the force of the speed pushed Case against Luke’s chest. Just as he expected, the kid wasn’t afraid. Case was laughing and squealing in pure delight.

  After a minute or two of flying along at a hard, breathtaking gallop, Luke reined Horse in. “Whoa, now. Easy, girl.”

  “That was fine,” Case declared when they’d slowed to a walk. “Can we do it again?”

  Luke laughed. “Later. Let’s give Horse a rest.”

  With his hat pulled down to shield his eyes from the sun, Luke trained his attention on the land, looking for evidence of trespassers. They cantered down the dirt road, kicking up a cloud of dust, then turned east through waist-deep grass to check out the places where the cover of trees would make it an appealing place to camp.

  After an hour or so, Luke was satisfied there’d been no suspicious activity. Everything looked unchanged since his vigil several weeks ago.

  “Where are we going, Luke?”

  He’d almost forgotten the boy was there. Case was uncharacteristically quiet. A sure sign he was tiring. “What do you say we head to the springs?”

  “That sounds great,” Case said in a weary little voice. He hesitated for a heartbeat before asking, “What springs?”

  “Let me show you.” Luke chuckled as he reined Horse around. The kid had amazing spirit. Infirmity never got in the way of his enthusiasm. Case was up for anything.