by Linda Ford
Mrs. Morgan straightened. “We all miss him, but he would want us to get on with our lives. I want you to come to dinner tomorrow after church.”
Linc understood she meant her family. Sally knew, too, but at least she managed to look a little regretful.
The sisters gathered up the remnants of the tea and carried them to the house. Judd watched one of the boys trying to throw the lariat and hurried over to help him. The littlest child fussed, and Matron picked him up and headed for the house.
Linc’s nerves twitched as he realized he was alone with Mrs. Morgan. He glanced about for something to take him elsewhere, but before he chose a direction, she began to speak.
“My oldest daughter married a young rancher. They’re doing well for themselves and their two daughters.”
Linc nodded without comment.
“Judd bought the Cotton farm, and they have a good solid home. He will no doubt do well once this drought ends.”
“Which will be soon,” he murmured. “God willing.”
“Amen to that.”
He could think of nothing more to say. He didn’t need an advanced university degree to understand why Mrs. Morgan had told him these things. She meant for him to understand her daughters married men she approved of. Not men like Linc, with a tainted past and an uncertain future.
He wasn’t good enough for her daughter.
But he wasn’t about to let her make his choices. He felt something special for Sally. Had seen the depths of emotion in Sally’s gaze often enough to think she might have similar thoughts. He’d let Sally decide what she wanted. A man of substance and reputation like Abe—or a man with a heart that belonged to her.
Sally stepped from the orphanage, and her footsteps faltered. Mother and Linc talked together. Her heart did a funny little flip-flop. Were they talking about her? Then she remembered the one thing she’d tried to avoid thinking of all day long. She’d agreed to marry Abe. Her heart lurched to her throat. Surely Mother wouldn’t tell him. They’d agreed to make a formal announcement at Sunday dinner with the family there, along with Abe and his children.
She hurried closer.
“I need to get back to Pa,” Linc said.
Sally’s air whooshed from overanxious lungs. They’d been talking of his father. “I’ll give you a ride.”
Mother gave her a look that normally would have Sally apologizing and changing her behavior. But this time, she only smiled sweetly.
“It will get him home sooner. In case his pa needs him.”
Mother’s expression did not lose its disapproval, but neither did Sally change her mind.
“You take him home,” Judd said, blissfully unaware of Mother’s concern. “I’ll see Mother Morgan home.”
The others joined them. Amidst a flurry of thank-yous and goodbyes, Sally and Linc climbed into the car.
She finally persuaded herself to relax when they were almost back to Golden Prairie. But for the life of her, she couldn’t think of anything to say to Linc. Her thoughts seemed stuck in a knot.
He sighed expansively. “Another party done. What do you think? Should we do this for a living?”
His teasing eased her mind. “Yeah. Sure. Let’s take it on the road.”
His laughter danced across her mind and she grinned, pleased at making him laugh.
“I can imagine how much you’d enjoy living in temporary quarters. Say a circus tent. Moving from place to place like some kind of kid-size Wild West show.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think I’d like it much.”
They reached town and she eased the car toward the barn, where the ponies would by now be happily munching their feed.
“Come with me to check the ponies?”
His eyes said so much more than his words, begging for her company. She wasn’t ready to go home and face her mother’s disapproval and demanding questions, so she murmured agreement.
He took her hand as she stepped from the car and retained it as he led her into the barn. They checked each animal and came to Big Red’s pen. The horse nickered a greeting. Only then did Linc drop her hand to toss some hay at his horse. He leaned against the pen and considered Sally, his gaze steady.
She didn’t move away. Didn’t shift her gaze. Something about the way he studied her gave her a feeling of being blessed. The look went on and on until she felt as if he’d read every secret longing, every hidden wish. Not only read them, but promised to fulfill them.
He grinned. “It was a good party, wasn’t it?”
Was that all they had to talk about? “I thought so.” She could hardly find her voice.
He reached out and plucked a bit of straw from her hair, his knuckles brushing her cheek, sending a wave of warmth up her skin. “Do you want to meet Pa now?”
Sally’s thoughts went crazy. Did you think he meant to kiss you? And if he had, were you going to stand there and let him? No, of course not. She had promised to marry Abe. She would never do something so dishonorable. She’d been raised better than that. “Now is as good a time as any.”
“Good.” Again he took her hand as he guided her from the barn. As if she needed guidance. The alleyway was wide and clear. She had only to head for the door. But she didn’t pull away.
He dropped her hand as they stepped into the sunlight. “Sometimes Pa is too groggy to talk.”
“That’s fine.” She clasped her hands together at her waist. She did not miss his touch, she told herself several times as they crossed the yard and stepped into a big kitchen warm with evening heat and welcoming smells of cooking and home.
Mrs. Shaw sat in a small wooden rocker, eyeglasses perched on her nose as she bent over needlework. She glanced up at Linc’s entrance and blinked twice when she saw Sally at his side.
“Pa wants to meet Sally,” Linc said.
“Hello, Mrs. Shaw.” Sally knew the woman from church and community events. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
“Oh my, no. You are most welcome. Come in. Linc, check on your father first.”
He signaled for Sally to wait while he hurried from the room.
“How did the party go?” Mrs. Shaw asked.
“Very well.”
“Linc was so pleased to be able to…you know, do something for the community.”
Sally nodded. Mrs. Shaw sounded like Linc didn’t expect anyone would let him be involved. “The children love him. What are you making?” She bent over the handiwork. “Why, it’s beautiful.” Deep red roses with a touch of pink on an emerald green background.
“It will be a cushion pad for my little wing chair in the front room.”
Sally stared, drawn by the colors and the carefully executed flowers. “I’ve never done counted stitch work.”
“It’s time-consuming but very rewarding. Take a peek in the other room.” Sally moved to the doorway. “See the picture over the desk?” It was a big scene of an English countryside.
“It’s wonderful.”
“It took me three winters to complete.”
“But what a masterpiece.”
“Why thank you, dear. If you want to learn how to do it, I can teach you.”
“I might take you up on your offer. Winters are long.”
Linc stepped from a doorway across the living room and saw her looking at the picture. A smile flashed across his face, as if pleased to see her there. “I see Grandmama is showing off her skills.”
His grandmother snorted. “I am not showing off. Sally admired my roses so I thought she might like to see that picture. She called it a masterpiece.”
Linc jostled Sally with his elbow. “You’ve earned yourself a special spot in her heart with that comment.” He kept his voice low, but his grandmother still heard.
“If you keep it up you might find yourself cooking your own meals.”
Linc pressed his hand to his heart. “Oh, please. Not that. I’ll be good. I promise.”
His grandmother laughed. “Go away with you.”
Sally chuckled.
It was good to see the affection between them. She liked a man who got along equally well with his elders and children. The thought stung her brain with accusation, which she ignored. But then she instantly excused herself. Of course it was okay to like Linc. Wasn’t she supposed to show kindness to everyone?
Linc squeezed his grandmother’s hands, then turned back to Sally. “Pa’s awake. He’s anxious to meet you.”
She knew the man was bedridden. Had been since his accident. But suddenly she realized she’d agreed to step into a man’s bedroom.
Linc watched her closely and read her hesitation. “It’s okay.” Linc held out his hand and she took it, finding strength and reassurance in his touch. He pulled her to his side. “He’s weak but likes to hear what’s going on around him. I said we’d tell him about the party.”
They stepped into the room. A shrunken man lay against a pillow, his skin almost as white as the cotton cover. Yet his brown eyes—so much like Linc’s—regarded her with unblinking curiosity. Linc pulled her forward. “Sally, this is my father, Jonah McCoy.”
“I’m pleased to meet you.” Sally held out her hand, then realized he didn’t have the strength to lift his arm. Instead she reached down and squeezed his hand where it lay on the bedcovers. His skin was cool.
“So you’re the young lady who has been keeping Linc occupied.”
She shot a glance at Linc. What had he said? But Linc regarded his father, a look of sadness on his face. Sally swallowed back the tightness closing off her throat. She couldn’t imagine watching her father suffer his way to death. “He helped put on a very successful party for the orphans.”
“Tell me about it.”
Linc pushed a chair toward her, and she sat at Mr. McCoy’s bedside. “He taught a little boy how to throw a lariat. You should have seen the look on young Johnny’s face when the loop actually landed over the wooden cow head. Johnny always pretends to be tough, but I thought he was going to hug Linc when he succeeded.” She told of the games. How Maddie, the oldest girl, organized the others for the beanbag throw. How she managed to get Linc to take part in the game and how Maddie had blushed and giggled when Linc lost to her and congratulated her on her strong right arm.
Linc leaned against the head of his father’s bed and seemed as keen on the stories as his father, so she continued, dredging up each and every detail. How young Claude Knowles—
“Wait. I used to know a man named Claude Knowles. A widower who lived over to the west.”
“That would be young Claude’s grandfather. He and Claude’s parents died a year ago.”
“And the boy has no other relatives?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Or perhaps they couldn’t afford to take him.”
“Sad. Everyone should have family and a home. Son,” he spoke to Linc, “I’m sorry I didn’t give you that.” He drew in a breath that caught partway. He coughed and grimaced with pain.
Linc grabbed a bottle. “Pa, here’s more medicine.”
But Mr. McCoy waved away the offer. “Not just yet.” His voice was thin with his pain. “I want to hear the rest of Sally’s story.”
So Sally continued. How Linc had picked up little Emmy and the girl had clung to him. Her heart squeezed tight as she recalled his gentleness with Emmy and how the girl adored him. This fearful, shy child trusted Linc instinctively. That said a lot about a man, as far as she was concerned.
She told Mr. McCoy how Linc had gone to Claude’s side and given him the time and space he needed to choose to take a pony ride. Linc seemed to understand that sometimes a person needed time to get his head around an idea. She related how Claude sat in the grass and ate his cake so neatly that not a crumb fell, while the older boys, Johnny and Billy, had wolfed down two pieces each with no regard for what ended up on their face and clothing. How the little ones chased after each other and rolled in the dusty grass simply for the joy of playing. “Of course, the ponies were a big hit. I guess the children will remember it for a long time.” She went on to describe the children receiving the toys. “Linc is responsible for all of them. He cut them out. He made the dollhouse.”
“It wasn’t just me,” he protested. “You finished everything.”
She couldn’t tear her gaze from Linc’s, feeling a deep connection as she shared this time with his father.
Mr. McCoy coughed again. “I believe I’ll take some medicine now.”
Linc measured it out. “We’ll let you rest now, Pa.”
“Thank you, Sally, for visiting a weak old man.” He could barely manage a whisper.
“It was my pleasure.” She squeezed his hand again.
Linc led her from the room, gripping her hand as if he feared to let go. She held on tight, understanding how difficult it must be to see this every day. She wanted to assure him his father would get better, but one look at the man and she knew it wasn’t going to happen.
Linc led her through the kitchen, still holding her hand. “We’re going to check on the ponies,” he told his grandmother.
At his expression of sorrow, the older woman pressed her lips together and her eyes glistened with tears. The look she gave Sally seemed to beg her to help Linc as best she could.
Linc strode from the house, Sally in his wake. He didn’t slow his steps until he reached the spot beside Big Red’s pen where they had stood previously. He let out a long, shuddering breath.
With her free hand, she touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry. This must be very difficult for you.”
He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. She let him, wrapping her arms around him, offering comfort the best way she could. He shuddered, clung to her. After a bit, his breathing eased and he pressed his cheek to her hair. “Sally.”
The thickness of his voice, ringing with emotion, strummed something inside her. The way he said her name filled her with longing she couldn’t explain.
He eased back, caught her chin with his finger and tipped her head so he could look in her eyes. “Sally.”
His gaze dipped deep into hers.
A tiny nudge in the back of her brain tried to get her attention, tried to tell her something. She ignored it.
He studied her lips so longingly, she forgot to breathe. He shifted his gaze, ran it slowly across her cheeks until he meet her eyes. “Sally,” he said a third time, his voice so deep it rumbled in her heart.
She was mesmerized by the look in his eyes, the ache in his voice. Her heart seemed to stretch, widen, maybe even open.
He lowered his head, paused and sent her a questioning glance.
She couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.
He touched his lips to hers. Warm, gentle, tentative.
Her arms wound around Linc’s waist, her palms pressed to his back. Her heart pounded against her chest. This was how a kiss should make her feel. Not cool and distant like Abe’s had.
Abe. The man she’d promised to marry. She jerked away, pressed her arms to her side and stepped back, forcing herself from his embrace.
“No,” she groaned. “I can’t.” Her words came in hard bullets. “Abe asked me to marry him last night, and I said yes.”
She panted as if she’d run a mile.
Chapter Thirteen
Linc clamped his lips together and let her words blast through his brain before he spoke. “You what?”
“Abe and I are getting married.”
“Why?” It didn’t make sense. She’d kissed him as much as he’d kissed her, and not unwillingly. In fact, she had sighed softly and leaned into his embrace as if she’d found home. He reached for his hat to shove it forward, then remembered it hung on a hook in the house and settled for rubbing his hair. “Why?” he asked again.
She rocked her head back and forth. “It wasn’t unexpected. Both of us know that’s why I’m there. He’s happy with how I run his home and the way I care for his children.”
“It sounds like a business agreement. You do the housework and he’ll provide you with a house.”
She lifted h
er chin but couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “He’s a good man.”
“Granted.” He could tell her Grandmama wanted Linc to take over the farm, and he had about decided to do so, but he didn’t want her to choose him in order to get a roof over her head.
“I’m not marrying to get a house.”
“Do you love him?” It hurt to even say the words.
She sighed as if dealing with a rebellious child. “You don’t understand.”
His knees almost buckled. She hadn’t said she loved Abe—the one argument that would make Linc walk away. Her omission gave him hope. “I do understand. But you can’t marry a man to replace your father. You can’t marry him for security alone. Sally.” He took a step toward her, but she held up protesting hands and he drew back, not wanting to scare her off. “Sally, you talk about faith. Said your faith required security, safety. No person on this earth can promise you that completely. Nor should you expect it. Only God holds the future. There will come a time when you will have to trust Him because there is nothing else left. Why not do it now? Don’t marry Abe for security. Trust God for it. Marry me for love. Choose me. I can’t promise circumstances won’t change or bad things won’t come into our lives. But I can promise to love you and cherish you every day of my life.” His words struggled past the tightness in his throat. “Sally, choose me.”
She continued to rock her head back and forth, her eyes clouded with uncertainty.
Again he tried to close the distance between them, but she held up her hands once more.
“I can’t. Mother would never understand. She’d not forgive me. The dinner tomorrow is to announce to the family my engagement.” She pressed her fingers to her mouth, and with a little cry, dashed away.
He didn’t follow. She’d made her choice clear. She would not, could not, go against family expectations. She would never give up the security of someone like Abe for a man like Linc, with a history of wandering, a hint of scandal attached to his name and nothing to offer but his love.
The sound of a motor mocked him as Sally drove away. All he could do was pray. And he poured out his heart and longing to God in a way he had never before done. Oh, God. You know I love her. I could live with this mind-shattering ache if she loved Abe. If I thought Abe loved her—but I think he only wants someone who will do his bidding and run his house well. She wants something she can only find in trusting You fully. I have lots to learn about faith, too. We could learn and grow together if she would let it happen. God, please make her see love is what matters in the long run.
