by Sasha Gold
“Hello Mrs. Crosby, may I call you Consuelo? I’ve heard so much about you and your brood. How many brats do you have running around exactly? I do appreciate your hospitality. Terribly sorry for the imposition. Your husband sawed a tree down causing it to topple across my home so he could keep me here.”
Esme smoothed her dress. She would need to order work dresses to be made for the ranch, but tonight she wouldn’t feel guilty dressing more formally.
She was surprised to find candlelight glowing in the dining room. Esme searched the chairs for Luke’s wife, but most were filled with wriggling boys. Nolan and his wife, Loretta, and Luke filled the remaining seats. Luke was seated at the head of the table. He got up, settled his hand on her shoulder, cleared his throat and waited for the group’s attention. No one seemed to notice. Joseph was arguing with a boy named Salvador about who snored the loudest. Several other boys tapped their water glasses with teaspoons, trying to create a melody. Esme recognized the first bars of a childhood song.
Each boy was dressed in a crisp white shirt just like Luke’s, and every boy’s hair was combed neatly, but that was where the semblance of order and tidiness stopped. Never had Esme seen such an unruly and unrestrained dining room. Two boys were laughing about a joke and promptly fell to the floor, a mishap that provoked more laughter and teasing. Not one of them paid Luke the least bit of attention.
Nolan raised his fingers to his mouth and whistled. That made the group quiet. The two boys, who had fallen, got up from the floor and climbed back into their chairs. The group grew solemn, their eyes shining in the soft candlelight. Their gazes drifted from Luke’s face to Esme’s and back again.
“Gentlemen, this is Miss Duval,” Luke said. “She’ll be staying here with us.” He proceeded to introduce each boy. David and Joseph she knew, of course, from the trip to Honey Creek, and the others: Salvador, Daniel, James, Justin, and Henry. She nodded to Nolan and Loretta.
Joseph, the eldest, jumped to his feet and pulled out the chair for Esme. He smiled politely and nodded.
“I declare,” Nolan’s wife said over the rim of a wine glass. “Look at those fine manners, Luke. I believe having another lady at the table might civilize this group after all. Lord knows I can’t do it alone.”
Esme sat and smiled at Loretta, unfolded her napkin, and settled it on her lap. Loretta was a handsome woman, who, like Nolan, was about fifty. Her grey eyes held a glint of humor and her hair was a magnificent swathe of chestnut she’d pulled up in a bun. She wore a burgundy velvet dress that was every bit as formal as Esme’s. After admiring the older lady for a moment, Esme searched the table but, aside from Loretta, she found nothing but men and boys. The torture of waiting to meet Luke’s wife was simply too much for her to bear a moment longer.
“Where is Mrs. Crosby?” she asked Luke softly.
Conversation died away. People shifted in their seats giving each other confused looks. Nolan lifted his glass of whiskey and drained it setting it on the table with a loud bang. “That’s just exactly what Loretta and I want to know. We been asking for a long time now. Where is Mrs. Crosby?”
The boys snickered and giggled.
“There’s no Mrs. Crosby,” Luke said to Esme. A scowl spread across his features. “Did you think I was married?”
The boys leaned forward in their chairs, awaiting her response. The candlelight made their wide eyes shine with twinkles of curiosity and mirth. Esme heard the grandfather clock in the corner ticking loudly, the pendulum swaying back and forth.
Esme flushed and stared at Luke in bewilderment. “I thought you were married to a woman named Consuelo.”
Several of the boys sputtered and snorted to keep from laughing. They tried to conceal their amusement with coughs.
“Did that lady just say Consuelo?” Salvador asked another in a loud whisper.
They jostled, elbowed, and leaned forward, awaiting what Luke might say about that. One boy fell out of his chair again, and the attention was diverted to getting him settled. It was a collective effort that involved scoldings, a few oaths, and finally a slightly changed seating arrangement. Finally the boys turned back to Luke, craning their necks, waiting to hear his response. Before Luke could say anything, the door from the kitchen swung open, and the Mexican woman Esme had seen earlier in the farmyard burst into the room carrying a steaming platter of enchiladas.
“Ha!” she proclaimed. “Don’t think I didn’t hear that. Luke would love to be married to me. He proposes every time I make enchiladas, but I’m married to Roberto.” She set the platter on the table, turned to face Esme. “Luke only loves me for my cooking anyway.”
Nolan nodded his head. “Hell, I’d ask Consuelo to marry me, if I didn’t already have a missus.”
Loretta winked at Esme. “I’m practically famous for my bad cooking.”
Consuelo snorted, turning back to the kitchen and waved her hand dismissively over her shoulder. David grinned at his companions and called out a proposal to Consuelo as the woman disappeared into the kitchen. Her reply, a flurry of Spanish, resounded through the swinging door.
“Let’s pray so we can eat,” Luke said quietly. Everyone bowed their heads. “David, your turn,” Luke directed. The boy stood and said Grace, and as soon as the boys said Amen, they pushed their chairs back and descended upon the food like Viking raiders. Within moments, they’d returned to their seats with laden plates.
Loretta noticed Esme’s dismay and misinterpreted it. “We always let the locusts eat first. Don’t worry, Consuelo has plenty.”
Esme blinked. She was hardly aware of the boy’s ravenous appetites. She could only think back to the day when her father had summoned her to the library and announced Luke Crosby was married with a baby on the way. The memory of that moment had played in her mind a thousand times since.
“You should thank me for never sending any of your ridiculous letters to that mongrel.” Her father had gloated as he tossed the bundle of envelopes across the expanse of his desk.
Loretta frowned at her. “Would you like a small glass of wine? You look a little pale.”
Esme shook her head. “No, thank you, Loretta.”
Luke leaned toward Esme and spoke softly. “You and I need to talk.” He drew her from the table, leading her down the hall and out the door. Outside, the moon cast a soft glow upon the trees. The cloudless night was calm and still. Amidst the chaos of her thoughts, Esme reveled in the feel of his hand enveloping hers. Rough, warm, his touch reminded her of the kiss they’d shared.
“My father told me years ago you were married and had children,” she tried to explain. “I never doubted him.”
Luke turned and dropped her hand. His face was a mask of fury, an expression Esme remembered from years ago when he fought everyone who crossed his path.
“I’m not married,” he shot back. “Your father lied to you. He told me to stay away from you or he’d disinherit you.”
Esme shook her head. “My father won’t give me any inheritance. He never intended to leave me anything at all. I think that’s why Simon left me the ranch. My father says he doesn’t want his money to go to the man I marry.”
Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “So that explains why you were so hot under the collar with me. You thought I had a wife waiting for me at home?”
Esme turned away from him, not wanting to relive the strange mixture of desire and humiliation she’d felt. She closed her eyes and shuddered at the absurdity of it all. The years of misspent anger and resentment, waiting for word from him when he’d been warned away, even the dress she’d picked for tonight seemed ridiculous; a choice she’d made to give a woman who didn’t exist some sort of set down. Esme thought of the scandal this would cause amongst her family and friends in San Antonio. She, Esme Duval, living with Luke Crosby.
“I can’t stay here,” Esme said softly. “As an unmarried woman I can’t remain under the same roof with an unmarried man.”
“This is exactly where you should be if you
r father comes looking for you.”
“He won’t look for me until the school year is over in late May. I gave him every indication that I would wait until then to come to the ranch.”
Luke shook his head. “He’s looking for you now. Consuelo told me four men were by last night asking for you, a few of your Daddy’s boys. They said Mr. Duval would pay for information about you.”
Esme shrank away. “No!” It wasn’t possible that her father could have found out she’d left San Antonio so quickly. Months would pass without her hearing a word from her father or mother, even though they lived in the same town. Her thoughts reeled. If he knew, he could come riding up at any moment and put an end to her plans.
Luke shook his head. “I wonder just how much old Randolph is willing to shell out for his little girl.”
“What do you mean?”
Luke shrugged. “I suppose he would pay a pretty penny to keep you out of harm’s way. I could use a little extra cash.”
Esme gave him an indignant look. “You wouldn’t sell me out.” She stared at him in disbelief.
Luke gave the impression of mulling over the idea of a windfall. “I could do a few nice things for the boys. Henry needs a pony, him being so short and all. He’s a little skittish about the horses we have. I suppose I could get him a pretty nice one for whatever your daddy’s willing to hand over.”
“I’m being traded for a pony?” Esme folded her arms across her chest and gave him a sideways glance.
Luke shrugged. “I don’t necessarily want to part with you now that I have you, but he never said I had to hand you over. He just wants news of your whereabouts.”
Esme leaned against the railing and studied him. “You think for one minute my father would allow me to stay here with you? You truly believe that?”
Luke’s expression softened and he gazed at her for a moment before speaking. “I know what would solve everything,” he said softly. “The two of us could get married.”
Esme gasped. “Married?”
Luke fought to keep from smiling. He stretched out his hands to her. “It would solve everything. It’s a very practical solution. I’ll even pay to have your roof fixed as a wedding present, seeing as you’re penniless.”
He knew there was a good chance she had some money of her own. When he found out how much Simon had in his bank account, he’d tell her about it, but not until he cinched the deal he’d proposed.
“Is this your idea of courting? Aren’t men supposed to recite poetry, give flowers and candy? Something like that?”
“Tell me you’ll have me, and I’ll get the pastor from Honey Creek over here tomorrow. He can marry us.”
Esme stared wide-eyed. “Tomorrow?”
Luke reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. The handwriting was instantly recognizable to Esme, and by the light of the moon she read the letter. Her father offered a reward for news of her whereabouts. She didn’t read every word, just enough to understand that her father had handed Luke the trump card he’d most wanted. Her hand shook as she handed the letter back to him. The look of satisfaction on Luke’s face told her everything she needed to know.
There would be no courtship. No poetry.
He shook his head, feigning sorrow. “Looks like you’re stuck with me. Do you suppose that’s what your Uncle Simon had in mind all along?”
Esme snorted contemptuously. “A marriage arranged from the grave?”
Luke ignored her barb. “You have something to wear?”
“I don’t travel with a wedding gown in case I get strong armed into marriage, Luke.”
He grinned. She was as furious as he imagined she would be, but it couldn’t be helped. Sweet words and romance would have to happen after the ink on the marriage contract was dry. Her father was the one who raised the stakes in this game by writing the letter in the first place. Not that Luke was complaining. He was happy to marry her sooner rather than later, and he needed to close the deal before Randolph’s boys came back to the ranch. Luke could hardly wait to see the looks on their faces when he presented them with his lovely bride. The only thing that would be better would be to see old Randolph’s bloated face when he heard the news.
“Let’s go back inside before those boys eat everything in sight,” Luke said.
Esme turned back to the door, dazed by what had transpired. “Tomorrow?” she asked once more.
“Tomorrow,” Luke said as he opened the front door for her.
“Dear Lord,” she whispered.
Luke laughed. “I’ll assume that means yes, you’ll have me.”
“This is all too fast.” She wandered across the foyer in a daze. Luke drew her to face him. He stroked a finger down her cheek. His jaw was clenched, his eyes burned with intensity.
Esme wondered if he might be preparing to offer a tender word, something to comfort her and ease her frantic thoughts.
“You and me will be fine,” he said. “You still have big eyes for me, like you always did.” He lowered his head to kiss her, but she stopped him by placing her hand on his chest.
She was suddenly aware of tears stinging her eyes, threatening to fall. Her father played her mother like a marionette, always assuring her of his devotion one minute, then using her family money without shame or apology the next. Some of Luke’s tactics were uncomfortably similar to her father’s, yet who better to shield her from her father than the one person who had always looked out for her. She searched his eyes for some sign that this wasn’t a matter of pragmatics. She searched for a sign of affection.
“Tell me you’re not doing this so you can get your hands on Simon’s ranch?”
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care about your ranch, but this is also good for you.” He gave her a slow grin. “You’ve gotten yourself into a bind. Stuck between your father, the devil you know, and me, the devil you haven’t known for a long time.”
Seeing her distress, he added quietly, with an air of ceremony, “You have to know how I feel about you, Esme. How could you not?”
There, he’d said it, he thought. He bared his heart to her. While it wasn’t exactly poetry, she should figure out from that statement that he’d always loved her. Did he need to spell out that there’d never been anyone else that he wanted, needed or dreamt about like her, his sweet Esme? She didn’t look at all convinced by his words. They were words he had never uttered to another woman in his life, and yet they had little effect on her. If anything, she appeared to be regarding him with the same misgivings.
“Say yes, Esme.” He took her hand and kissed it. “You would be better off with me here in Honey Creek than you would be back in San Antonio. Besides, you can barely keep your hands off me.”
“You should talk!” She tried to duck away from him, but he grasped her waist. He nuzzled her neck.
“Say yes, Esme,” he whispered. Desire shivered up her spine. If the boys hadn’t been just a few steps away, she might have wrapped her arms around his neck. Instead she pushed his hands away from her.
“I need to think it over.” She tried to regain her composure. When she had been just a girl, his self-assurance, his directness made her feel cared for, but now it didn’t feel quite so comforting. He was giving her a mandate, or that was what it felt like. He gave her orders and manipulated her with his touch. A touch that made her hunger for more of him.
Gazing at him in the moonlight, she found herself drawn to him as strongly as ever before. If she took away his arrogance, subtracted his bossiness, and looked at him anew, she had no trouble seeing that he added up to exactly what she had always wanted.
“I need to sleep on it,” she said, her eyes wide with innocence. She knew her answer, had known it from the moment he’d uttered the proposal, but it would serve him right to think that she needed to consider the options and contingencies. He was just a trifle too self-assured, a little too certain that she would snap up his offer.
Luke’s gaze drifted from her eyes to her mouth. “Fine, while you
’re thinking about it, I’ll write Randolph a letter, and tell him to bring my check when he comes. I’d like to get Henry a pretty little buckskin.”
“Oh, all right then.”
The sound of a belch echoed down the hallway. Low, deep and prolonged, it was greeted with a round of applause.
Luke grinned. “Sounds as if the circus troop has already moved on to dessert. They’re having the burping contest to see who gets the biggest piece.”
“How charming.” Esme swept past him.
He followed a few paces behind, his gaze drawn to the nape of her neck appealingly bared beneath a tight chignon. “I’m sorry they started without me,” he said. “I’m used to winning that biggest piece. You’re not planning on giving me any competition, are you Miss Duval?”
Before entering the dining room, Esme paused and gazed over her shoulder. “I’m tired of getting the smallest piece, or worse, none at all. I plan on giving you a run for your money every chance I get, Mr. Crosby.”
Chapter Five
Chattering with excitement, dresses heaped in their arms, Loretta and Maria invaded Esme’s room the next morning in the pre-dawn hours. They roused her from bed and told her there wasn’t a minute to spare. Esme wasn’t allowed to go down for breakfast for fear she would be seen by her groom. Her bath was tepid and rushed. The two women were not to be reasoned with; they were battlefield generals planning every detail of the impending campaign.
Loretta and Maria scrutinized the dress Esme wore, the third she tried on, circling her like cattle bidders at an auction. The dress was a mother-of-pearl debutante dress, one that had belonged to Maria’s youngest daughter. Perched on a wooden crate, Esme tried her best to be still to avoid the pins that Loretta poked in the folds of the taffeta gown in an attempt to fit the billowing material around the bride’s slender frame. Esme was hungry and exhausted, even though the sun had just crested the horizon a mere half-hour before.
“It’s pure luck that you have anything remotely resembling a wedding dress to wear,” Loretta told her.
