by Linda Broday
“This is best discussed with Mrs. Day. Meanin’ no offense, ma’am.”
“My mother is ill and can’t be disturbed. Besides, I handle Day affairs. Now what brought you?”
The boy took advantage of Hope’s return. He accepted the tin cup, gulping the liquid. Glory waited while he wiped his mouth and returned the empty cup to her sister. The rocking chair creaked when Hope slid into it, smoothing her skirts.
“Mr. Fieldings sent me, ma’am.” He licked his lips again, she suspected to bolster his courage. She didn’t have to lay claim to mind reading to see that the bank employee hated his mission. “Aw, I wish I didn’t have to do this. I’d rather take a beatin’.”
A quietness spread through her body. A quiet that came in advance of a storm. She gripped the arm of the chair.
“It’s all right, Alex. You have a job to do. Go ahead and spit it out.”
“The bank is calling in your note. He’s giving you two weeks to pay it in full or else this farm will become the bank’s property…ma’am.”
The news stole the air from her lungs. Her head rang worse than the time old Caesar kicked her. Two weeks. Aunt Dorothy’s warning came true.
Hope’s shocked cry jarred the silence. “No! What are we going to do? Where will we live?”
How could she have overlooked preparing Hope for this sickening turn of events? She threw Alex a look loaded with buckshot and hurried to her sister. He jumped to his feet. He wouldn’t be wrong in sensing his welcome had expired.
“Don’t worry, we’ll think of something. We’re not going to lose this house.” Glory kept one arm around Hope’s sagging shoulders and glared at the messenger. “Make no mistake, we’re not going to easily give up this land that has supported two generations of Days.”
“I’m terribly sorry.” He inched toward the door.
“Not without one heck of a fight. Tell that to your boss!”
The screen door slammed behind the scared boy. It had barely stopped reverberating when Luke stormed in.
“What lit a shuck under that boy? I swear I’ve never seen anyone so hell-bent.” Concern lined his face when he saw Hope’s tears. “I’ll kill him if he did anything…”
“Family business. Nothing more.” She couldn’t let him see their ruination. And she sure didn’t want his pity. She could hear the buzz now—Those poor Day girls couldn’t even keep a roof over their heads. Poor as church mice.
“All you have to do is say the word and I’ll go after him.”
In spite of the dread blocking her windpipe, she had to smile at the picture of Luke dragging O’Brien back by the nape of his neck and the seat of his pants.
His solicitude almost made her feel…protected.
Almost special.
And if it were possible…almost loved.
The story of her life—everything came too late. She lived an almost life.
“I appreciate your offer, but we’re just fine.”
Luke didn’t bat an eye. “Don’t think Miss Hope shares that opinion.”
Glory squeezed her sister tightly, willing the girl to reassure him.
“Alex was the perfect gentleman. There’s no call for bloodshed.” Hope wiped her eyes and smiled brightly.
“Now, if you don’t mind, I have turkeys to pluck.”
The strength came unexpectedly. They had more in common than she thought. At sixteen, the calm, easygoing Hope hadn’t shown an inclination up until now for the kind of backbone it took to survive here. That she might share their mother’s weak nature had indeed caused some sleepless nights. Speaking of which, she should check on Mama. She wished she knew the nature of Ruth’s problem and what to do.
“Excuse me, McClain.” She wasn’t prepared when he caught her arm. Not for the warmth of his touch or the caring in his low drawl.
“I’m not stupid. Don’t know what that boy said to rattle you, but I know trouble when I smell it.”
His stubborn persistence didn’t surprise her, but the tic in his firmly set jaw did.
“Let me help,” he pleaded.
For a moment, he sorely tempted her. Even though he couldn’t offer a solution, it would ease the burden a little to share it with a willing soul.
Even a perfect stranger who’d about swept her off her feet.
“You can’t.” The strangled words threatened to choke her.
Compassion turned the dusky gaze a deep, rich brown. She barely felt his breath fluttering the hair at her temples, because she was too busy drowning with longing.
The slamming screen broke the trance.
Patience skipped into the parlor. “Mr. Luke, look what I found in the barn. What kind is it?”
Luke jumped back when the girl pushed a green snake into his face. “Fire and damnation, girl!”
Able to breathe again, Glory hastened to disguise the quivers that would expose her. “Not afraid, are you?”
“Not fond of anything that crawls on its belly.” He edged toward the door for a getaway. “Snakes and I part company.”
“It’s harmless.” She couldn’t help tease. The petrified look on his face said McClain wasn’t the tough, fearless man he tried to convince everyone he was.
Patience stretched it out. “Don’cha want to pet him?”
A forked tongue shot from its mouth.
“My father didn’t raise any fool, Punkin. Besides, I don’t think your pet likes me.” With that, Luke bolted.
“Take the thing outside, Patience, then go pick us a mess of poke salad for supper. I saw some down by the creek today.” She didn’t wait for the girl to object. “After that, bring in the clothes hanging on the line. I’m sure they’re dry.”
“I’m just a little kid, Glory. I can’t do all that.”
“Sure you can. Now get to it.” She walked to the door to her mother’s room and knocked softly, praying she was lucid for once.
* * *
A pleasant surprise came the following morning. The normal routine Luke had observed from the first day changed.
He did a double take, then backtracked when Glory came to breakfast wearing a dress instead of her usual britches. For a minute, he thought he’d lost count of the days and Sunday had snuck up behind his back.
The jolt damn near made him choke on the coffee Hope had poured.
Truth to tell, she looked beautiful in the faded flour-sack dress. Soft and feminine. Try his darnedest, he couldn’t keep from staring at the snug cloth that molded, cradled each curve.
Luke set his cup down crookedly, barely noticing the hot liquid that sloshed onto his hand.
She’d twisted her hair into a loose knot atop her head. It added an elegant air. But it was the tiny gold ringlets framing her face that gave wings to the sensitive spirit inside. The part she tried so desperately to hide. She’d wrestle an alligator to keep anyone from thinking for one minute she had a hint of a chink in her armor. Not that she had to worry on that account. In his estimation, he figured Glory Day was the strongest, most determined woman he’d ever met.
But the sensitive part showed in the love she gave her mother and sisters. Even when they made her mad enough to spit nails.
“Mornin’.” He hobbled around the table to hold her chair. “Didn’t recognize you at first.”
She accepted the cup Patience brought—“Thank you, Squirt”—then took a slow sip before answering. “You mean without my regular garb?”
Luke rubbed the sharp needles of pain from his leg, ignoring the pointed sarcasm. “I have to say you look fetching. Just wondered if I’d skipped a couple of days.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “By any chance, is this Sunday?”
“It’s Thursday. Just so happens I have business in town that requires me to look my best.”
“Oh?” His brow shot up; then he winked broadly. “Courtin’ business?”
Bright spots colored her cheeks, rewarding his efforts. Truth told, he couldn’t bear to think of other hands touching her.
“You have a lot of nerve!”
Her stare assuredly was of the defiant variety, sorta what Custer might have used when he met Sitting Bull.
“Mighty dressed up. Smell nice too.”
“It’s business of another sort, if you must know.”
“Your father? Has he—”
“No.”
Her clipped reply gave him to know it was her ball of wax, and he could peddle his nosiness elsewhere or she’d shoot the other leg.
Bank business, he reckoned. No other reason to get gussied up and head for town in the middle of the week. Plus, he’d seen her counting the coins in the fruit jar and the tremble of her fingers. Her eyes afterward had held a hint of moisture. Punkin explained that’s where they kept the family’s finances.
Hope picked that moment to plop down a big platter of flapjacks between them. “Don’t let these get cold.”
“Is Mama up?” Concern masked Glory’s clear gaze.
“She hasn’t come from her room yet. I sent Patience to wake her.”
“I did like you told me.” The littlest Day brought the jar of sorghum to the table and slid sideways into her seat.
“Yes, but did you make sure she heard?”
A sharp edge had crept into Glory’s question. Things were getting to her.
“Mama opened her eyes. What more do you want?” Patience glared from one sister to the other. “You always blame me. It’s not fair.”
“If you weren’t such a lovable kid, we’d leave you on the reverend’s doorstep with a note.” Glory pushed back her chair. “Only he’s too nice for that.”
Hope stopped her. “I’ll see to Mama.”
“You wouldn’t dare get rid of me. If you did, you wouldn’t have anyone to push around,” Patience argued.
Luke stepped in quickly to forestall the murder about to take place. “Hey, Punkin. Wanna go fishing after breakfast?”
“Just you an’ me?”
“Yep.”
“Oh boy. I know a good place to dig for worms.”
Hope returned. “Mama’s getting ready.”
Thick tension swept the table. Why, he didn’t know, but his gut told him it involved the unwanted visitor from last evening.
He returned Punkin’s grin. The day was young yet and he had the little darling all to himself. It wouldn’t take much prying.
Seven
Luke’s eyebrows rose when Glory took advantage of her mother’s tardiness and asked him for a moment alone.
Outside at the wagon, a mockingbird flew past with a grasshopper in its beak. That something so ungainly could provide food for a predator gave her nerves a start. It took a good minute before she managed to gather enough grit.
“I have a request, actually a proposal.”
“A proposition, you mean?”
His knowing grin made mush of what grit she’d plucked. Hell’s bells! He’d turned her simple appeal into something indecent. Trying to salvage her pride, she weathered the irritating smugness. Yet, she’d rather dance a jig with the pitchfork man himself.
“Will you be quiet until you hear me out?”
“Proposing can be sticky. You certain you’re ready to take this step? You seem to have left out the courting stage.”
The devilish smile reinforced his similarity with Lucifer.
“You know very well I’m not referring to a match between us. It’s not that sort of…arrangement.” Heat flooded her cheeks. If her situation weren’t so desperate, she’d leave the insufferable man standing neck-deep in his own egotistical mess.
“I see. Now it’s an arrangement…of sorts.” Mischief created twinkling stars in his brown stare.
“It’s no use.” She’d had enough of his foolish drivel. “You’re clearly bent on twisting my words and I can see Mama’s ready to leave for town. Good day, McClain.”
“Wait.” Luke caught her hand. “I’m sorry.”
Delicate, fleeting strokes on her skin gave birth to a mass of unsettling tingles. Her heart pounded. A lowered glance found the source. Luke slowly rubbed his thumb back and forth over her wrist with the excruciating ease of a musician strumming a viola.
“Forgive me? Please?” His husky murmur only served to increase the sound of the waltz only she could hear.
Without meaning to, she raised her gaze…and once more fell into his trap. A rabbit caught in a snare. She found herself encased in the handsome trickster’s genuine caring. Her parched mouth replicated the godforsaken land on which she stood—land she’d make a deal with a perfect stranger to keep.
“You clearly have a problem and I made light of it. If I promise to be good, will you tell me what you have in mind?”
Heaven help her. He beckoned toward a tempting path. The roguish glint in his eyes promised she’d have no regrets. Ha! She already did. Her hands remembered a nicely shaped behind and the solid muscle of a bare thigh. She recalled the soft breath of his mouth against her cheek in the almost-kiss that had found a home in her soul.
No regrets? Only of the worst sort.
Glory wet her lips, willing back the purpose that had brought her to seek him out. “I know you’ll be leaving here in a day or so. Will you pick up Perkins’s scent again?”
“Yep.”
“I wish to make a deal with you.” She twisted the handle of her threadbare bag, aware that the contents would not save them from destruction. A silver pocket watch and an emerald brooch couldn’t buy a farm…or a pig in a poke.
“I’m listening.”
The screen door closed. Her mother. She had to hurry, for what she had in mind didn’t call for an audience. Especially when that audience forbade it.
“Let me go with you after Perkins and we’ll split the reward fair and square.”
“No.”
Luke’s blunt refusal pricked her heart. The rogue meant to have the entire reward for himself.
“I’m merely asking for halves. Don’t make me beg.” She struggled against rising panic. Her pride wouldn’t allow weakness. Tears were for people with no backbone.
“Now there’s a tempting thought.” His low voice made her heart thud against her ribs. “Having it in my power to make you beg. Hmm. Might be worth reconsidering.”
A quick glance saw that her mother had stopped to talk with Patience, buying her a few extra seconds.
“I’ll agree to anything you want. I need that money.”
Ruth finished her conversation and came toward them.
“Anything, huh? Know what that means?”
The lump stuck in Glory’s throat. She stared at the dust swirling around her worn high-topped shoes. Should a woman feel this breathless when she’d sold her soul to the man who made her hope?
“Yes, I know.” The words came no louder than a whisper.
But she wished she didn’t. Wished she didn’t yearn for his touch as only an old maid could. And wished she could accept that which he hinted at for all the reasons she’d listed in her journal.
“We’ll leave tomorrow at first light.”
She almost swooned. “I’ll be ready.”
“Morning, Mr. McClain. Fine day, isn’t it?”
Her mother appeared in better spirits than she’d expected.
“Yes, ma’am. Right beautiful.” Luke helped Ruth onto the wagon seat. “Damn near perfect.”
The scintillating gleam in his dark eyes made it clear he didn’t refer to the weather.
She ignored the irritating grin and flicked the reins, urging Caesar forward. “Giddyup, boy.”
Luke’s whistling followed until they turned onto the main road to town, taunting her with the melody of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” It didn’t take a man o
f science to get the message.
“That’s a nice young man, don’t you think, Glory?”
That wasn’t exactly the word that came to mind. She must’ve lost what little sense she possessed. Very likely she’d set a path down the road to perdition with her bargain.
* * *
“Grab that pole, Punkin, we’re going fishing.” Luke swung into step, matching his stride with the girl’s.
“Can we take Miss Minnie, too?”
Patience cradled the mama calico. The affection the girl bestowed on the cat and her babies clearly came from being starved of companionship. From what he could gather, the children in town shunned her.
“Reckon so, but don’t you think the kittens’ll miss their mama? What if they get hungry?”
The girl skipped into the barn and over to the box where she’d corralled the babies. “Okay, Miss Minnie. Be a good mama to your children.” She set the calico down and watched the kittens squirm over to nurse. “I’ll give you a nice bowl of milk when I get back.”
Another cat, one he’d not seen before, jumped from the loft and over into the box. The straggly animal sported one green eye and one blue. Strangest thing he’d ever seen. Reminded him of the three-legged dog who’d taken up with him once. Felt sorry for the darn thing.
“Mornin’, Mr. George. You come to see your babies?” Patience cooed and petted the pitiful yellow cat.
“Mr. George?”
“Miss Minnie’s husband,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Ain’t he the prettiest cat you ever saw?”
Her proud grin made him shake his head. Only Patience would see the beauty in such a sight. She gave credence to all mothers who thought their baby the most special, even when their infant was as ugly as a bar of lye soap.
“Come on, girl. We’ve got us some fish to catch.”
A short time later, Luke sat cross-legged beside Red Bank Creek.
“You don’t hafta put my worm on,” Patience informed him, copying his every move. “I can do it myself.”
Watching her study the can of wiggly bait brought puzzlement. At first, he blamed her hesitation on a squeamish nature, but he changed that assumption when she reached in and pulled out a juicy one.
“Sorry, Mr. Worm, I hate to kill you. I hope you don’t have any children. But we need to catch some fish for supper so Glory won’t have to worry.”
