by Linda Broday
Luke stared after Glory. Things hadn’t gone according to plan. He hadn’t gotten a chance to tell her he’d solved part of her problem.
And there was still the matter of Dalton to set straight.
An abrupt swivel set the youngster’s red braids swinging. Patience ran back and flung her arms around him. “I’ll never forget how you saved my life.”
“Any time, Punkin.” He ruffled the top of her head.
“A bona fide hero…again? Seems this town can’t make do without you,” Gimble drawled.
Now what in Sam Hill did that mean? The newsman’s eyes perked up as they had the day he hauled Perkins into town. Luke hated to give him reason again. But he had things to talk over with Glory. They hadn’t finished until he got things straight.
“You should’ve seen how fast he ran in front of those horses, Charlie. The way he stood there shielding me, stopping them with his bare hands.” Punkin paused to take a breath.
And slew the smoke-belching dragon with the jawbone of an ass would probably come next. Nothing like blowing the episode sky-high. He picked up his hat, acutely aware Glory had retraced her footsteps. No doubt to give her sister a stern talking-to.
“I think he’s the bestest, bravest man I know,” Punkin ended, favoring him with an uncomfortable measure of hero worship.
“I didn’t do anything that anyone else wouldn’t. Just there at the right time is all.”
“How modest.” Gimble leveled him with a sharp stare. “Heard you’ve been away. Mind telling me where?”
“No one’s ball of wax that I can see.”
“It is when high crime is being committed.”
“Charlie, that’s enough,” Glory broke in.
Criminy cricket. He didn’t need her defending him. What kind of man let a woman do his fighting?
“I can speak for myself.” He thrust his hand into a pocket. The crinkle of paper reminded him.
“I beg your pardon?”
He regretted the instant flash of fire that turned her gaze every color in the rainbow. Brother, did he know how to arouse her anger! The toe of his boot found a clump of prickly poppy, startling a resting lizard. Damn, if only he had equal success with her gentler side.
“That didn’t come out like I meant.”
“Since I’m not needed, I suppose we’ll go home and leave you be.” She grabbed Patience.
The girl broke free again. “Will you come for supper? Please?”
“Don’t think that’s a good idea, Punkin.”
“She won’t stay mad forever.”
“Come on, Squirt. I’m not waiting for you.” Glory untied Caesar.
“Uh-oh, I’d better git.”
“Hold up a minute.” He marched beside her.
“But I’m not done with you, McClain,” the editor snapped.
“Tough.”
He caught Glory before she climbed up behind Patience. He pressed the paper into her palm. “This belongs to you.”
She didn’t answer, didn’t even spare it a glance. She did, however, accept a leg up into the saddle. A start, he supposed. He grinned. Maybe he would claim that seat at the supper table. Couldn’t blame a man for taking the bull by the horns. Not when someone waved a red bandana in his face.
With Perkins dead and Glory spurning his proposal, he’d not find much reason to hang around once he secured the Day farm.
That was before the other three Ds: Devilment, Discovery, and Dalton—as in the most esteemed kind—and not necessarily in that order. The events of the day pointed out the advantages of switching horses in midstream.
Aware that Gimble watched from where he’d left him, he whistled the jaunty war tune that had been running through his head and turned in the opposite direction.
Fifteen
Only when they were safely from view did Glory unfold the sheet of paper. She stared in stunned disbelief.
The deed to the farm! Free and clear. No turning them off their property now.
“Dear Mother Mary!”
“What?” Patience asked.
“It’s a miracle.” She squeezed her little sister tightly.
“What, Glory?”
“Wait until we get home.” She tried to urge the pokey mule out of his slow meandering, but the stubborn cuss had set his speed and wasn’t budging. “We have to share this with the others. Mama will want to get out the last of Papa’s mulled cider.”
Who? How? Questions swam in her head.
The who—obviously Luke. Her joy soured faster than a jar of dill pickles. He’d done it again…made her beholden. His meddling in their personal affairs obligated her.
She’d not stand for it!
Mr. Fix-It, Mr. Heart-Stealer, Mr. Meddler had stepped too far this time.
Food charity hadn’t posed so large an obstacle she couldn’t forgive him. Even though he denied having any knowledge, which she doubted. But after everything was said and done, she might have let that go.
Her mind drifted toward more tranquil waters as it was prone to do when she didn’t keep a tight rein on it. The sound of his husky drawl lingered in her mind, a poignant reminder that being a lady meant much more than wearing dresses and possessing a real toothbrush. A whole lot more. She slid open the top two buttons of her shirt to allow a breath of air. She couldn’t recall if ever she’d seen such a hot July.
No time for wool-gathering. She shook her head to get her thoughts back to the current dilemma. Rearranging things to suit himself and taking over a body’s life didn’t fit in the supplying-food category. It seemed unpardonable and downright audacious.
When would he understand he couldn’t make everything go according to McClain law? He had a lot of nerve. Day family business meant hands off. Furthermore, she could walk down the street with whomever she pleased should she take a notion!
It appeared he didn’t want her, yet couldn’t abide seeing her with anyone else.
The reins slipped from her numb fingers. Paying the bank proved a willingness to give freely of everything except his heart.
Ol’ Caesar turned onto the property by the time she came to the how of it all. Where did he come by eighty-one dollars and fifty-seven cents?
Charlie swore Luke played a part in the stage holdups.
She tried to make enough spit to swallow, deeming the dry dust as having more to do with her difficulty than the list tumbling crossways in her head…
He’d refused to tell her where he was going.
Three robberies occurred during his mysterious absence.
He returned with a pocketful of cash.
Damnable facts.
“Whoa.” She slid from the saddle and froze when the next thought hit her like a load of double-aught buckshot.
He’d used blood money to buy back their land.
“Mama, Hope, come quick!” Patience flew through the door. “Glory done saved the farm.”
“What on earth?” Somehow Hope managed to keep from falling in the collision with a Texas whirlwind.
“Mama, we have big news!”
Hope raised her eyebrows as Patience tore through the house. Glory couldn’t speak. The ache in her chest went all the way to her ankles, taking root like stubborn broom weed.
Ruth Day emerged from the bedroom, holding her head. “I want to know what in God’s name the yelling is about.”
“Mama, Glory fixed everything. Ol’ Mr. Fieldings can’t kick us off our land!” Patience blurted.
“Is that true?”
Words failed her. She silently handed over the document.
“Hallelujah!” Ruth’s face glowed.
Hope stared in amazement. “I can’t believe my eyes.”
“How?” the two women asked in unison.
Glory sank into a chair. Explaining that they couldn’t accept the money�
��and worse yet, why—would test her limits.
“How is this possible?” Ruth’s legs gave way. Thank goodness the rocker was handy or she’d have landed on the floor.
“Luke McClain, I’m afraid.” Numbing cold seeped into her veins.
“But why?”
Because he took great pleasure in snooping around in other folks’ lives? Because he thought nothing could flourish unless he had a hand in it? Or because he robbed for sheer pleasure? Which answer best suited?
Nausea whirled in her stomach the same way it had the day she watched her shackled father climb into the back of the prison wagon. McClain took her for an imbecile. That he misused her trust made the sickness inside rise, strangling the words.
Bless Patience for answering. “That’s just the way he is. Mr. Luke likes to help people. Even saved me today from being trampled to death.”
“Goodness gracious, what next?” Hope groped for the settee.
Ruth appeared on the verge of fainting. “My baby!”
“He sure did.” Patience swelled with importance as she flipped her braids. “A whole team of horses could’ve sent me to my grave.” She gave an exaggerated sigh. “I wish I could marry him. Especially since I saw Glory looking goggle-eyed at the new doctor in town.”
“She what!” her mother exclaimed.
Oh dear, Mama had suffered enough shock for one day. Glory should’ve known the jabber jaws would waste no time. But not even the warning scowl Glory sent bought silence.
“Plumb shameful how she laughed with him, pretending she couldn’t walk good. Batted her eyes like that featherbrained Amelia too.”
Hell’s bells! She reached for her loose-tongued sister, but Patience anticipated the move and scooted from reach. Who could predict what she’d say next?
Glory’s face blazed. “I did not.”
“Did too. I saw you.”
Delighted to find herself the center of attention, the dope affected a flirtatious gesture with her hand. Wait until Glory got her alone. She’d give her reason to think twice about letting her mouth run away with itself.
Hope smothered a giggle. “I can’t believe that. Not our Glory.”
Patience went on. “Mama, I invited Mr. Luke to supper so you can thank him.”
Glory’s mouth dropped.
“Wonderful,” Ruth said. “We have double reason to celebrate. Hope, dear, you’ll have to whip up one of your special meals.”
Patience wasn’t finished. “Of course, he may not come. Said something about it might not be a good idea. Maybe because he caught Glory with Dr. Dalton. He looked awful mad.” She shrugged her shoulders, the perfect picture of innocence.
Fire and damnation! No wonder McClain thought he could take charge of their lives with Patience being so free.
“My stars.” Glory faked nonchalance. “You sure spin some mighty big yarns for Mama and Hope’s benefit.” She only prayed they’d take everything Squirt said with a grain of salt.
If not? The whirling twisted into a tight knot.
Though grateful McClain had pushed her sister from harm’s way, she couldn’t let them accept his generosity in paying off the bank—especially if the money had been stolen.
It was just too bad not owing the bank took a huge load from her shoulders. It was a weight she would have to bear again when she told McClain they couldn’t accept his gift.
The Days were not a charity case and she would just have to tell him that. With Patience’s revelation, perhaps the opportunity would come sooner than she anticipated.
“I’ve got to get a cake on.” Hope bustled out.
“Whatever shall I wear?” Ruth sailed merrily for her bedroom, her headache evidently forgotten.
That left an edgy Patience, who judged the distance to the door with a wary eye.
“Go ahead, try.”
Patience held up her hands. “You know I was only funning. Don’cha, Glory?” Squirt backed up. “’Cause I was. Funning, I mean.”
“At my expense, which I’m not happy about.” Glory stepped forward, blocking the path.
“I can trade something of yours if you’ll let bygones be bygones.”
She glared through narrow slits. “Is this a trick? What could you possibly have?”
“Something you want really, really bad.”
“You’re bluffing. I don’t believe you.”
“First you hafta cross your heart and hope to die that you won’t get upset.”
“I don’t make deals with stealers.”
“Borrowers.” Patience licked her dry lips. “I only found it.”
“Don’t make deals with borrowers either.” She tapped her foot, growing impatient. “What is it?”
“Promise first. And you have to close your eyes while I go fetch it.”
“Forevermore! All right, you have my word.”
“You promise not to chase or hit me or be mean?”
“Of all the things to accuse me of now.” Glory had never hit Patience or been mean. She had chased her a time or two though. “I gave you my word, didn’t I?”
“Are you crossing your fingers behind your back? Show me your hands.”
Glory stuck them out. “Now, go get it.”
“Shut your eyes and no peeking.”
Through the teeniest opening she watched Patience inch toward freedom before shooting out. Glory went to the door. No sounds indicated that Squirt had gone outside. A few minutes passed. Just when she decided her sister had duped her, footsteps sent her racing back to her spot.
She lowered her lids in time. “Well, do you have it?”
“I’m gonna count to ten, and then you can look.”
“I’m tired of playing your little game.”
“One, two,” Patience began counting.
On six, Glory’s eyes flew wide.
Her precious journal lay on a table. She glimpsed a flash of skirts disappearing out the door. Glory lifted the book, cradling it against her chest.
“Patience Ann!” No doubt the girl had read every private thought she’d scribbled in it. Anger and betrayal churned.
Bad enough an outsider practiced a free hand in her life, but her own flesh and blood?
Heaven help her!
Nothing was sacred.
* * *
Luke made a sweeping right turn onto Day land. He expected they’d shower him with appreciation for helping them keep it. On the way, he’d formed an acceptance speech for the occasion.
Their gratitude would lessen the sting of what he’d done.
Soldier’s fussy snort jerked him from that memory. In his agitation, he’d brought the bit to bear a tad too tightly in the horse’s mouth.
“Sorry, Soldier.”
A soothing pat calmed the animal and he returned to his thoughts. Running into Glory while coming from the bank had given him an unexpected jolt. And he damn sure hadn’t enjoyed the sight of her with the doctor all intimate-like. Time was, a fellow could respect another man’s territory—that is if a body had one, which he didn’t. He’d merely asked her to marry him because he saw no other way to help. But damn it all, she should respect the offer whether or not she could hitch up with someone like him.
The twang in his mouth had to come from the bite of licorice he’d bought at the emporium. He wouldn’t allow any other reason.
Before the night passed, he’d get the scuttlebutt on Dalton. Even if he had to kiss Glory to pry it from her.
A grin stole across his lips and he sat up taller in the saddle at the thought of gathering that particular bit of information.
Patience ran from the house. “He’s here. Mr. Luke, you came for supper!”
“Hey there, Punkin.” He threw his leg over and swung down. “I see you recovered in fine fashion.”
Patience wriggled her hand inside
his. “I’m tough. I told Mama and she can’t wait to thank you. And for saving our farm.”
“She can’t, huh?”
“Hope made a cake for you.”
“That’s good because I brought my appetite.”
She squinted up at him. “Are you still mad?”
“Don’t reckon I am. Why?”
“On account of seeing Glory with Dr. Dalton. She hasn’t set her cap for him or anything. I know.”
The matter-of-fact way she stated it took him aback. “You sure about that?”
Punkin glanced toward the door, then motioned for him to bend down. “She wrote in her private book that she’s taken a fancying to you,” she whispered. “I read it.”
“Oh.” He winked broadly, not daring to question how she happened across anything so personal. A few things were safer left unasked.
“Mr. McClain, don’t let Patience keep you outdoors.” Ruth Day stood, holding open the screen.
The greeting stole the words he’d practiced on the ride from town. Mother Day had scarcely shown polite tolerance since Glory brought him home leaking blood everywhere. Cordial and Ruth Day seemed an inappropriate marriage. He’d expected gratitude, but the change in Mother Day still caught him off guard.
“Mrs. Day.” Luke removed his hat before stepping past. “I hope you don’t mind me taking Punkin up on the invite.”
“Not at all, I am pleased to see you.” She hung his hat on the hook. For a moment, he thought the woman might hug him. Instead, she lowered her arms as if suddenly finding the appendages belonged to her. “I hear I’m indebted on several counts. Patience tells me you risked life and limb on her behalf this afternoon.”
“I really didn’t do all that much. She’s prone to a child’s imagination.”
“And the deed to the farm? Surely we didn’t dream that?”
“No indeed, Mama.” Glory quietly entered the room. “McClain is exactly the one to blame.”
He quirked an eyebrow, hoping to disguise the ruckus inside kicked up by the mere sight of her. The fragrance she’d brought with her settled over him in a fine dew, rendering him speechless. He wondered though at her dry, brittle tone.
“Good heavens, Daughter, that’s not what I meant to say. We can’t begin to repay Mr. McClain for his good deeds.”
