by Linda Broday
“My poor baby. I’m puzzled how a fall could do this. Come, let me doctor you up.”
Glory grabbed her middle sister before she could follow. “Tell me what happened.”
“I think she got into a fight, but she denied it when I asked. Do you need some help unhitching?”
“Not today. I’ve done this so many times, I can do it with my eyes shut.” And a good thing, she thought, feeling her way with the cane. The mule followed, his breath on her neck.
“Where did you get the walking stick? Uncle Pete?”
“He said it couldn’t hurt anything.”
“You told him about your eyes?”
“Didn’t have to. Our uncle seems to have a sense about certain things.” She lifted the bridle and rigging and threw it over a stall. “I hate to be the bearer of more bad news. Lord knows you’ve had it dumped on you by the bushel of late.”
“What other kind is there?”
Hope’s dejection almost changed her mind. “Uncle Pete confessed he’s kept Mama supplied with laudanum and that she’s become as dependent on it as drinking water.”
Her sister gasped. “Doesn’t he realize the danger?”
“Only occurred to him after he saw her today. He warned me that he gave her a new bottle. We need to watch her and speak to Dr. Dalton after church tomorrow. It could explain Mama’s madness.”
“Glory, what do you suppose will happen to us?”
“We’re going to be just fine. Don’t you worry.”
Glory sank against Caesar’s stall after Hope went inside.
You can always marry Luke.
The thought flickered and died, leaving only ashes of a beckoning dream. If he hadn’t proposed for all the wrong reasons…
Love seemed a small thing to ask of a husband.
Besides, it was obviously too late to accept his offer. Even if she wanted to consider it, which she didn’t. She had enough troubles. Didn’t need to take on his too. And he’d probably fled the country anyhow. Left her behind just like her father.
Well, she didn’t need anyone with wandering feet.
McClain could peddle his sweet talk elsewhere. A pure blessing she hadn’t married him.
All of a sudden, a figure dashed past. From the slight build, she gave the blur Patience’s name. She followed to the far end of the row of stalls.
“Squirt?”
Sobs made finding her easy. Patience lay on a pile of hay.
“Leave me alone.”
Glory sat down and rubbed the small shoulders. “What’s wrong? You can tell me.”
“Mr. Luke didn’t kill ol’ lady Penelope. I know he didn’t.”
“Of course not, honey.” She pulled her sister to her. “You didn’t fall today, did you?”
“Nope.”
“Fight with someone?”
“I couldn’t let them say those horrible things. Luke’s my friend. He’s not a murderer. Or a thief either. How come those kids are so mean?”
The thin girl snuggling against her aroused Glory’s protective tenderness. She kissed the top of the pigtailed head. “I wish I could tell you justice and truth always won out. Only I’d be lying. Life isn’t fair. People are quick to point fingers, especially if they’re scared.”
But wasn’t that what she’d done from the first encounter with Luke? Fear, both then and since, had led to the final push that sent him away…maybe forever this time. It was her fault. She knew that. In fact, she took the entire blame for the family’s present mess. He’d wanted to help and she gave him grief for his trouble.
“Why don’t they like me, Glory?” Fresh sobs broke loose. “Am I ugly or bad?”
“Let me tell you something, Patience Ann Day. You are the prettiest, most special little sister anyone could have.” Glory smoothed her hair. “Another thing—you have true courage, the kind I wish I had. You’re ten times braver.”
“I am?”
“You sure are. I’m nothing but a big chicken. And you know what else?”
“What?”
“I’m real lucky to have you for my sister.” The truth of it hit her. The girl irritated her to death at times, but maybe little sisters came into a body’s life for the simple reason to add balance. Like a pair of scales. Patience offset her sour disposition. A person needed excuses to smile occasionally.
“You’re not just saying that, are you?”
“No kidding. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
Patience gave a loud sigh. “I love you, Glory.”
She gently ran her fingers over the puffy eyes, discovering scratches on baby sister’s cheeks. Anger blazed along with self-loathing. She should’ve stood up for Luke, not left it for Patience.
“I love you too.”
“You’re not still mad about your private book, are you? I’m sorry about finding it.”
Ha, leave it to Squirt to throw more whitewash over the truth. She gave her a fierce hug. “I’ve already forgotten the incident. But now that you refreshed my memory…” She held her down and tickled her until squeals filled the barn.
“I do declare, ladies! About time you learned the finer points of having fun. Can an outsider join in?”
The sensual drawl could only belong to one man. But was it real, not merely a trick her mind played?
Patience jumped up from the straw. “It’s really you!”
“Is it too late for an invite?”
Excited tingles collided in their goings and comings along Glory’s spine. And he hadn’t laid a hand on her.
The charmer had returned. For the first time that day, Glory felt like smiling.
Twenty
Luke pushed away from the table, wondering how a man had room for all the food they’d piled onto his plate. Not that they had to work overly hard. No such thing as a decent meal and a certain pretty lady when a man lay low. Still, the chief excuse for the visit was to get the latest news, he told himself.
Why the hell had Roberts shown up? Just riding through? Should be Major Jones.
Luke desperately needed a plan to get out of this mess. No doubt his rope had knots in it to think he stood a hope and a prayer.
He could get caught in his own noose and end what he’d started…before he could free Jack Day.
He took a slow turn about the table. Deep sadness lay behind each smile, almost as if they mourned a loved one’s passing. He reckoned they had ample reason for sadness. Not too many things ran in their favor these days.
When he saw the ribbon in Hope’s hair and the comb in Mother Day’s, his chest swelled. They evidently liked the small gifts.
The toothbrush he gave Glory crossed his mind.
Remembering that special night sent warmth flooding into his belly. An uncomfortable hunger rose that no amount of food could satisfy. No one had to twist his arm to call on the Days.
His gaze lingered on the woman across the table. Her face swam before him when he drifted to sleep at night and woke each day. He fancied her around every turn. Glory flowed in his veins as real as his blood. Watching the waning light brush her hair with some sort of reverence created a hollow crater inside.
She seemed to be in one of her quiet moods. A pure sin to Moses she couldn’t see him, for he’d surely wink if for nothing more than to put some color in her cheeks.
He clenched his jaw until the pain matched that of his heart.
Of all the things in this world, he reckoned nothing would give him greater joy than to set to rights those beautiful stonewashed eyes.
Mama Day dabbed at the corners of her mouth. “Young man, what made you return? With the folks of Santa Anna and that nasty captain ready to shoot you on sight, I believe I’d have to say you’re being awfully foolhardy.”
“I reckon so, ma’am.” He’d brave a hail of gunfire and walk over coals with his bare feet just
to kiss his Glory one more time. But he wouldn’t have good sense to tell Mrs. Day that. “I came back to get something I left in your barn.”
Glory pushed the food around on her plate. “Must be all-fired important.”
It was the first time Glory had spoken during the meal and she did it with a measure of stiffness he understood. Misery had a way of snuffing out tender feelings.
“It is.” The words came out hoarse, not the lifeless tone he’d aimed for.
The way her head jerked around you’d have thought he slapped her. Fire and damnation! Good going, McClain.
“Enough to risk your life?”
A painful lurch made his reply no louder than a sigh through a field of cotton. “Yes.”
Whatever she thought, her face kept the secret. She’d not given one measly sign that his risking life and limb pleased her. He even welcomed the hair-trigger temper that had come freely in times past. Anything to hint she hadn’t died inside.
Patience interrupted his thoughts. “I’ll wallop anyone who says you murdered ol’ lady Penelope. Or stab ’em and feed ’em to the wild pigs. They’d best keep their traps shut.”
He propped his elbows on the table. “I do declare. I might oughta take you with me to do my defendin’.” He touched the bruises on the young face. “That’s quite a shiner. Scratches too. Tangle with a bear or something?”
Patience bent quickly to stroke Miss Minnie. “I fell.”
And his name was Dakota Kid.
Plain to see she didn’t want to discuss it. He guessed some of the little darlin’s in town had added the handiwork.
“My stars, I can’t recall when I’ve eaten so much,” Mama Day said. “The batch of fish was delectable.”
He reckoned that must mean good in Ruth-Day English.
“How did you catch so many, Mr. Luke?”
“Well, Punkin, I smeared a little honey on the hook, dropped it in the water, and whistled for ’em. They pert near jumped onto the bank of their own free will.”
He leaned forward and listened.
The sound of hoofbeats made his belly knot. He covered the distance to the window in three steps. One horse and rider.
“Expecting company?”
“It could be my Jack.” Mama Day joined him. “Oh, I do hope so.”
Hope crowded between. “It’s Alex O’Brien.”
“Who?” Luke asked.
“Her beau.” Patience didn’t want to miss out, scooting under his arm. “And he’s wearing courtin’ clothes.”
“Mr. McClain, you can hide in the barn. We’ll send word when he leaves.” Hope swung around. “Quickly. Oh dear, someone take up his plate.”
“I’ll keep him company.”
Glory’s unexpected volunteering shocked him. Luke tried to stifle the promise of his good fortune.
He’d hoped merely to steal a few minutes alone.
More than that would bring unbearable pleasure.
* * *
“You don’t have any snakes in here, I hope.”
Glory suppressed an urge to laugh, recalling the night she went after Luke when he broke his bargain with her. The mere idea of a poor little snake terrifying a tough man of his caliber still seemed a bit odd.
“We only keep the friendly type. Miss Minnie and family run off the bad ones.”
“It’s nice to hear you joke. Most times you’re far too serious. Tonight, you seemed a million miles away.” The heels of his boots scuffed against the barn floor.
The reason burdened her soul. She’d let her papa down. That fact made her own dilemma pretty trivial. Not a scrap of hope remained. Zero.
“Another letter from prison came today.” The tremor inside broke through her armor. “I’m worried about Mama.”
“Your father didn’t…?”
“We haven’t received notification yet but it’s just a matter of time.”
“Miracles do happen, you know. Maybe—”
“Stop! Quit trying to coddle me. My father is past saving.” And so was she. Hard reality, but true.
Sniping wouldn’t cure anything. He hadn’t caused their misfortunes. She wished she could take it back. Silence weighed heavy before he let out a chuckle.
“Did I say something funny?”
“Didn’t realize you can still shoot with both barrels and hit what you’re aiming for. Happy to see you’re not out of ammunition. Here I thought you’d all but climbed into the grave and pulled up the bedsheet.”
“Hell’s bells! I’m not dead yet!”
“I can see that. Yes sirree.” He whistled in admiration.
The tingles she had had before seemed mild in comparison to the hum vibrating inside how. His drawl reminded her of a lazy cat, stretching from a nap. It stirred every emotion she’d ever known twenty times over.
Luke brushed her shoulder. “In case Romeo chances to glance out, we don’t dare light the lantern.”
She pasted on a wry smile. “No need to worry about darkness on my account.”
“Damn!” He whacked something, the wall most likely, with his fist. “Let me bend over so you can kick the seat of my pants. But shoot, you can’t see my rear end either.”
“Please, I’ll get used to it.”
“Yeah, but will I?” he asked softly.
The hopeless undercurrent in his tone tugged at her heartstrings. Whether he sought reassurance or not, she felt drawn to reach out. The hard muscle of his arm gave her a jolt. “I know of worse things.”
Like picturing his silly wink and grin when memory faded.
Like holding on to the feel of his embrace, his lips.
And like having to keep on breathing once he’d gone. Yes, many things numbered the list, each one pain-ridden.
“We might as well make ourselves comfortable while we wait.” Luke’s fingers brushed her face. “This courting business could last for hours.”
A man with a magic carpet would know. His arm slid around her waist, igniting a heat that dampened her palms. She knew he led her down the row of stalls. Dankness, chickens clucking on their roosts, and the way the barn became cooler the deeper inside she went told her.
“What’s the situation with your sister?”
“I take it you mean Hope.” She moved cautiously, not yet familiar with the uneven slope of the floor. “I look for her and O’Brien to tie the knot before long.”
Panic lodged in her throat.
One more person to walk out of her life.
They all would…leaving her alone with memories of useless dreams.
Caesar and Soldier snorted. Bessie kicked up a fuss when they moved past. Thirty steps from the door. She perceived them near the same place she’d located Patience earlier. The hay rustled when they sat down. His gaze, the rich shade of coffee beans if memory served, burned through the midnight of her soul.
His arm slid around her, the heat of his body arousing a strange hunger. Although he had a callus on his thumb, his touch was as soft as satin on her cheek.
Though he hadn’t denied killing Penelope Tucker in so many words, his nearness didn’t threaten her.
He wouldn’t take her life—merely her heart.
Not much separated the two. Either way she’d lose. She smoothed the rough seam of her britches leg, then bunched it up before she straightened it again.
“Perhaps you’d better get whatever it was you left in the loft…that important item you had to return for,” she suggested.
“Later.”
Glory’s pulse quickened when he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I merely want to look at you.” He cleared his throat. “‘She walks in beauty, like the night. / Of cloudless climes and starry skies.’”
“You know Lord Byron!”
She’d never have imagined. Luke was like a many-facete
d diamond. Depended on the way the light shone and which side it turned as to what you saw.
Luke chuckled and drew her down onto the fresh hay. “I blame it on my mother’s insistence. Truth to tell, those are about the only lines of Lord Byron I remember.”
“But still…not many Texans can quote a single word.”
“I didn’t think poetry or reading mattered until I met you. Now my mind dwells on it.” He tickled her neck with a piece of straw. “Do you know how pretty you are right now?”
His silky voice guaranteed mystery and excitement. She skated on a frozen pond that disguised thin spots. Danger of falling through any moment terrified her.
“You’re wrong, McClain. Hope is the comely one.”
“Both your sisters are fine-looking ladies. But you’re the real beauty. You have a glow that shines from the inside out. When you walk by, heads turn. People stare.” His voice cracked. “You put thoughts in a man’s head of everything he can’t have and make him believe his notions aren’t nearly so far-fetched. Darlin’, you take my breath and steal my every thought.”
“Thank you, but you don’t have to say those things.”
What effect did he think he had on her? Words held no meaning unless Luke spoke them. She moved through the days in constant disarray, conscious only of his presence…long after he was no longer there.
“Oh, but I do. They come from my heart.”
He held a magnetism over her she couldn’t shake. As she sat next to him now, nothing mattered, not even the arrogant way he tried to fix their problems.
She didn’t give a hoot if he had turned scoundrel.
Or stage robber.
Or outlaw.
Or snake-oil salesman.
Long as he never left. A light caress of her wrist moved up her arm. Glory shivered…fearing she might die from want. Coaxed into the circle of his arms, she snuggled into that safe place where nightmares and dark beasts couldn’t reach her.
For the moment, her world had no troubles.
No danger—only light. Where everything was perfect.
She felt the most fortunate of women.
His lips brushed the top of her head. “You give so much. I only wish…”
