The Cowboy Who Came Calling

by Linda Broday

  If he meant to act, he’d best do it now.

  Six shots spent? Or five? The next second would tell.

  With a quick jerk of his arm, Luke raised the pistol. In planned precision, he cocked and fired into Boss Man’s belly. For all his hot air, Foster’s reflexes were a second slow. The bullet flew wide above Luke’s head.

  The gang leader wore a surprised look. Blood stained the hand he’d placed over his stomach a dark red.

  “Seems I had one left.” Luke knelt. “Reckon you ain’t much in the way of adding and subtracting, Foster.”

  He untied the bandana from Foster’s neck and pressed it to the wound.

  “Go to hell!”

  Life ebbed from the man in final, gasping breaths.

  Luke closed the lids over eyes that would never have another innocent in their sights again.

  Through a haze, he felt a presence. Arms lifted him up.

  “Nothing more you can do for him, little brother.”

  “Damn! What a waste.”

  Duel clasped him tight, patting his back. “He’s not worth it. Remember, he made his choices.”

  Luke was tired and felt old. “You’re right. What I can’t understand… Foster’s hate ruined so many lives.”

  “No figuring some people. I’m lucky if I can make heads or tails about myself. Jessie says I’m clear as muddy water.”

  “Good ol’ Jess. How is she?”

  “You can ask her yourself. She’s at the Day farm. Along with Marley Rose, Lily, and baby Ethan.”

  Luke’s brain appeared to be in a fog. He stepped back for a better view. Surely this was a dream. He thought he heard mention of…

  “The Days? Who in tarnation is Ethan? And what in hell are you doing here anyway?”

  “Whoa, hoss. One at a time.”

  Luke took an exasperated breath and adopted a more reasonable tone. “May I ask why you’re at the Day farm?”

  “Looking for you. Bad news, Luke…Pop died.”

  Pain and sadness flowed over him. He turned to stare into the distance. “I’ve been meaning to come for a visit. Things kept getting in the way. I never got to tell him…”

  “Pop knew what was in your heart. We didn’t always have to speak it. You were his favorite, you know.”

  Luke whirled. “He never let on. I thought he favored you.” Strange how a person kept secrets. “What happened?”

  “He went fast, no suffering. Fell down a ravine. We buried him beside Ma. I’m sorry.”

  “When?”

  “Three weeks ago. We had a hard time tracking you down. If it hadn’t been for the Rangers in Waco, we’d still be hunting you. Ever hear of contacting your family once in a blue moon?”

  The thought had crossed his mind. Carrying feelings for your brother’s wife didn’t exactly make going home an option. Luke suddenly realized he hadn’t thought of Jessie in a long while. Not since Glory had taken her place.

  “Well, I’ve been sorta busy.” He squinted up. He was glad Duel would never know his sin. “I’m assuming Ethan is your newest addition. How many kids call you Papa now?”

  “Only six. There’s been a lull in Jessie finding strays.”

  “Have mercy!”

  “You’d better get busy, little brother. By the way, I met Glory. A special woman. If you don’t marry her, I’ll know you’re crazy.”

  “That would just confirm everyone’s suspicions.”

  “She’s in love with you, you know.”

  Not very likely. Stabbing pain rose from the depths of his heart. He could never make up for what he did.

  “After the way I spoke to her most recently, I’m the last person she’d want to have any dealings with.”

  “We’ll see.” Duel slapped his back. “Let’s go home.”

  “Not before I exchange Miss Gut Twister for Soldier.”

  * * *

  “They’re here,” Patience screeched.

  The parlor gathering stampeded for the door.

  Glory stumbled over a foot. Her pulse raced as Luke’s face swam in her memory. Someone took her hand. The snort of horses came closer when they stepped onto the porch.

  This cursed blindness!

  “Oh no,” Hope murmured.

  “What?” Was he dead? She pictured his lanky form draped lifeless across Soldier’s back.

  “He’s been shot!”

  The squawk from Patience shot an arrow through Glory’s heart.

  “Who?” She forced the question through stiff lips.

  “Mr. Luke, that’s who.”

  Dear Mother Mary! Her worst fears had come to pass. Ice formed in her veins.

  “Mr. Luke, you’ve been shot. And it wasn’t even Glory this time.”

  “Nope, Punkin. The shooter didn’t have quite the aim your sister has. He wasn’t near as pretty either.”

  A squeak of leather as a body slid from the saddle, the pound of footsteps, and Glory found herself swept up…into the arms of her cowboy.

  Only she didn’t mind. Not one bit.

  A big smile curved her mouth as a rainbow formed inside that dark place where her fears dwelt. The only concern on her mind was that he’d vanish on the breeze.

  “Miss me?”

  Even if the host of flutters had subsided, the thickness in her throat made speaking difficult. She nodded, holding on tight.

  “Hey, don’t spring a leak now. I can’t handle tears.”

  “I’ve been so worried.”

  “That makes two of us. What makes you think you can go traipsing after murderers in the dead of night in a storm?”

  “I had Horace with me.”

  A husky gravel lent itself to the joking tone. “Not that I’m ungrateful, but don’t let it happen again. I won’t have you risking your neck to save my sorry hide. You understand, lady?”

  Luke’s soft breath disturbed the wispy hair beside her ear. The charmer hadn’t lost his touch. She found the tendrils weren’t the sole things he disturbed. A mass of tingles made her wonder if another storm had passed by. Lightning bolts were said to bring this measure of electrified awareness.

  Another nod gave him the answer he sought. Yet, she knew she’d do it all again should the need arise.

  Saving her perfect stranger was something worthwhile and noble—a calling she wouldn’t ignore.

  “Wunkle Wuke! Me. Hold me.”

  Glory gathered from the jerks below that Marley Rose tugged on his pant leg.

  “Hey there, Peanut. You’re next on my list.”

  “Put me down,” Glory protested. “You shouldn’t be lifting me with a wound.”

  Patience came out the door. “Mr. Luke, who shot you?”

  “Well, Punkin. Let’s just say he won’t ever do it again.”

  Back on her own feet, Glory patted his back and stomach. “Where are you bleeding?”

  “Shoot, it’s only a scratch. And nowhere near the vital parts the last bunch were.”

  A flush filled her cheeks with warmth. He’d never let sleeping dogs lie.

  “It’s his arm, dear,” Ruth Day said. “Luke, come in and we’ll get that bandaged. In fact, I want you all to wash up for supper. Won’t hear a word of a soul leaving.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Duel, Cap’n Dan, you’d best pay attention. These ladies serve up some of the best darn food you ever sank your teeth into.”

  * * *

  Satisfied Luke wouldn’t lose his arm to infection, Glory allowed the relief she’d held at bay. They’d finished the evening meal and gotten the dishes out of the way. She couldn’t refuse his request for a moonlight stroll. Well, she could’ve, but didn’t. Their shoulders brushed as they walked. Her arm looped comfortably through the crook of his elbow, she leaned more fully into his presence. The essence of all that was her dearest dream broug
ht a heady glow.

  “Forgive me for what I said to you. I had to get you away from there. Scared the holy Moses out of me when I saw you.”

  “You were despicable. I thought you hated me. Until your kiss. A man who put that much tenderness in a kiss couldn’t believe the words he used.”

  “I had good reason. My plan worked though.”

  She jabbed a finger in his shoulder, making sure it was the uninjured one. “You should’ve told me what was going on.”

  “I couldn’t take a chance. Besides, I know your mulish disposition. Boy, do I know it!”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Not a thing, darling.”

  The cigar band on her left hand bespoke his love.

  Even if he dared not trust himself with the word.

  While everyone had busied with meal preparations, she’d fumbled beneath her bed for the remembrance that made sense of everything—their yesterdays and their tomorrows.

  Now on his arm, she wished for a mere second of sight. The soft, silver moonlight probably played in his brown hair. Maybe even creating a halo at the crown, an idea she found quite ludicrous. This man called McClain was no angel. That fact she found most comforting. A heavenly being couldn’t make her this delirious. She believed she’d take Luke any way she could get him, whether tarnished or saintly.

  “Captain Dan and I leave at dawn for the Texas State Penitentiary at Huntsville.”

  They stopped walking. She felt a tad lost when he released her arm and they leaned on the corral fence. A froggie clan set loud clamors down by the creek. Their efforts motivated the crickets and night owls, enlivening the air.

  “Am I dreaming?”

  Luke couldn’t take his eyes off her. She represented everything he’d ever wanted or needed. It didn’t seem possible he’d returned to where his soul had found such contentment.

  This was the only place he’d felt truly whole.

  Where he belonged.

  And where he knew his name was safely tucked inside someone’s heart. A rare thing to find.

  “I surely hope I’m not sleepwalking. If so, I never want to wake up.” He drank his fill of the vision he’d tried so hard to walk away from. He pressed his lips to her forehead. His next words came barely louder than a whisper. “Nope, you’re real all right.”

  His gaze lit on the cigar band encircling her finger. That she saw fit to wear such an inadequate token of his affection released warmth in him. Beside his Glory, all other women paled.

  Including Jessie, which he never thought possible. None of the old familiar ache had come over him when he came face-to-face with her this afternoon. He realized the feelings had been mere infatuation.

  “You know, I gave up on having my papa home. When this thief stole my sight, I had no hope of granting his last wish.”

  “Then I shall take extra pleasure in making it happen.”

  “My family owes you more than we can ever repay.”

  “No more than my debt to you for saving my hide, pretty lady. You don’t suffer from a shortage of courage.”

  “You deeply touched our lives. We’ll not be the same. Not Mama, Hope, Patience…or myself.”

  “Pretty good for a nosy meddler, huh?”

  “McClain, are you mocking me?” She turned. “You are!”

  “No harm in poking a little fun.”

  “You’re mocking…and you’re staring. I can feel it.”

  Soft rays outlined her curved moist mouth. Luke took her face between his palms. Playful nibbles along the bottom lip brought the whimper he’d sought.

  Teasing suddenly had the appeal of a sack of gourds.

  He wanted to taste her fully with nothing held back.

  The crush of his lips on hers set his heart hammering. It threatened to jump from its lodging and take up company with hers.

  “Have mercy,” he murmured weakly into her hair.

  Glory struggled equally, it seemed, resting her forehead on his chin.

  The sampling had shaken them both evidently. He took the hand that bore his token, tracing it with his finger. He couldn’t trust himself to speak yet. A strange tremble ran the length of him. He simply let her tender inner spirit and the outward beauty of her features feed the hope inside his hungry soul.

  When he could speak, the words came haltingly, as if spoken by someone who had only learned to make the sounds.

  “The night I left here, I swore I’d not return. It appeared useless. You spurned my offers at every turn. I saw no need to risk further trampling of my pride.”

  Glory opened her mouth to speak. He shushed her with a finger over her lips.

  “Not yet. Let me finish. Please?” He took a gulp of air. “I’m not esteemed or professional, which appear to be two qualities you most seek in a mate. Anyhow, not in the way of the good doctor. My admirable qualities are a bit harder to spot and covered with rust. But I believe with all my heart and soul I can make you never regret a day of knowing me. You’ll make me the happiest man in the world if you say yes.”

  Luke knelt amid the sharp rocks and thorny weeds. He lifted her hand to his lips.

  “Miss Glory Marie Day, will you be my wife? To share with me all the riches I may possess, pitiful few they are… And to bear my children?” Then, he added in a rush, “And to never shoot me again, not even in a fit of desperation.”

  Her silence scared him.

  When she opened her mouth to speak, he stopped her. “Please, don’t say anything. Not tonight. Think about this and then give me your answer.”

  Thirty-one

  Glory sat on the porch steps, contemplating her life and the challenges that brought her to this place. She leaned to scratch the soft fur of Miss Minnie and babies who cavorted at her feet. Five days had passed since Luke proposed again. He hadn’t let her answer that night—told her to think it over until he brought her father home.

  The only reply she wanted to give wouldn’t be fair to the man who’d given her sunbeams, rainbows, and…a toothbrush.

  Did he truly know what he asked?

  The faint rumble of a wagon interrupted her thoughts. Her ears perked up. The unmistakable sound of a horse team turned onto their land.

  “Mama, come quick!”

  The screen door creaked. “Oh, dear heavens!”

  “ls it them, Mama? Is it Papa and Luke?”

  “I do believe so, daughter.” She put her head inside. “Girls, your father”—and then, her voice becoming quiet, her words filled with doubting disbelief—“has come home.”

  But whether breathing or in a pine box? They’d taken so long. Glory wondered what it would do to her mother should Luke have failed. “Do you see him?”

  “Luke’s on the seat.” A strangled sob caught in Hope’s throat. “Someone is lying in back.”

  Mother Mary, they’d let him die in prison!

  Stabbing pain created a hollow crater where her heart had been. Barely aware, she heard the rig come to a stop a few yards away.

  “Papa! It’s Papa,” Patience screamed, flying past her.

  Great sobs rocked her mother. “My Jack.”

  “Is it him?” Glory asked.

  “See for yourself.” Luke lightly brushed her cheek with a knuckle, and helped her down the steps.

  “Great day in the morning! Ain’t it fine to be home?”

  Although the voice had long been absent, and the effects of illness had robbed it of a vibrant timbre, Glory had no trouble recognizing it.

  “I can’t believe it’s really you.”

  “In the flesh. Come and hug your old papa.”

  * * *

  Amid hugs, tears, and more happiness than they had a right to, they settled Jack Day into the bed he shared with Mama.

  While the rest busied with cooking, cleaning, and a dozen oth
er little details that required tending to, Glory perched beside him. She smoothed the covers over his thin frame. He seemed a mere shadow of the robust man she adored, lost beneath the quilts.

  She didn’t know how long before the good Lord would take him. But he’d come home at last. That fact brought a measure of peace. They’d make the time he had restful and full of every ounce of pampering he could hold.

  He took her palm, his frail grip shaking. “You don’t know how I prayed for this moment. I lay awake nights thinking I’d never see this land again. Or be with Mama and my girls.”

  Thickness lodged in the back of her throat. “We…I missed you. When you left, you took our sunshine.”

  How could she ever have harbored such anger for him?

  “For me too, Glory.”

  “I’ve heard people speak of prison and how awful it is.”

  “Believe everything you’ve heard and multiply it by three. Don’t be sad, it’s behind me now.”

  “I wish we’d have known what Foster did. If Penelope Tucker had—”

  “Shh! Don’t speak ill of the dead.” He had changed from the man she knew. Instead of turning his heart to stone, prison made him forgive. “Having a hand in creating my children has to rate as my single best accomplishment. I love Hope and Patience dearly, but I’ve always been a bit partial to you, Glory. I knew I could count on you to keep things going. You have the same steel in your spine I once had. McClain told me how hard you worked making this possible. That was a brave thing you did, trailing that outlaw and spying on them.”

  “McClain exaggerates. I was scared stiff.” And mad afterward that Foster would plan such a heinous act against the people she loved.

  “Daughter, a healthy dose of fear keeps our blood pumping. You showed bravery despite facing every nightmare you ever had. You spat on it, daring it come get you. I couldn’t be more proud.”

  “Horace Simon deserves most of the credit.”

  “Nothing much changed about you. You’re modest to a fault. You know, I like that fellow McClain. Me and him had a nice long talk.”

  Stillness came, the kind that warned of loss.

  “Luke’s a fine man.” The cigar band encircling her finger reminded her how honorable.