Love Inspired Historical October 2015 Box Set

by Lacy Williams

  She finally got the girls to bed, and she settled into her own bedding.

  She’d enjoyed the evening more than she had a right to, knowing it couldn’t last. The image of Blue’s smile lingered in her thoughts.

  *

  Blue smiled as he took care of the fire, prepared for bed and lay on his bedroll. A few minutes later he decided it wasn’t possible to fall asleep with his mouth constantly smiling.

  He cupped his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. The evening had been like walking into the sunset, the dark shadows behind him. Tonight, for as long as possible, he’d keep his face turned to the sun and forget his past. Or at least not let it be the direction he faced.

  A thought surfaced, begged for attention. Sunsets lasted but a short while.

  He pushed the warning behind him. He’d deal with reality when he must. He would have told Clara of his plans to follow her to Fort Calgary or wherever she went, but he figured she’d protest and he didn’t want to spoil the evening.

  The next morning he still had not decided if he should inform her.

  The girls were talkative during breakfast. Several times, he slipped his gaze toward Clara. When their eyes connected, hers full of softness, his heart lurched against his ribs.

  The four of them went to the church.

  He looked about. The pile of wood that had been on one side of the room was gone, cut into shapes for pews. “We’re all done sawing pieces.”

  “The pews are almost finished.” Did she sound as regretful as he felt? This work had given them the opportunity and the excuse to spend time together. Once they were done, what would they do?

  “It will still take a few hours to assemble them all.” He held an end piece in position. She knew what to do and steadied the piece.

  Her hand slid across the edge and rested against his.

  Whether or not the touch was purposeful, he couldn’t say, but his heart rushed up his throat in a response that was both primitive and surprising. When had he ever had such a powerful response to a simple touch? Never. Not even with Alice, though he’d loved her as fully as he could.

  A stunning truth flared through his mind. His love for Alice had lacked a degree of depth he’d been incapable of back then. The sorrow he’d lived through had given him a deeper capacity for emotions.

  He sought Clara’s gaze.

  When his eyes met hers, he realized she’d been watching him and was aware of his reaction. Her blue eyes were liquid with answering emotion. Her lips parted slightly. They were temptingly kissable.

  At the sound of the girls playing across the room, he cleared his throat and forced his attention back to work. “Eleanor and Libby, do you want to help assemble this pew?”

  They rushed over, always eager to be of assistance.

  Over their heads, his gaze locked with Clara’s. Time ceased as their look went on and on. Hers burning into his, silently claiming places in his heart that had never before been occupied. Places that had, until this moment, been hidden, curled like a flower bud waiting for her smile before they bloomed.

  “Mr. Blue, is this where you want it?” Eleanor’s question jerked him back to the here and now.

  And the realities of his world.

  He needed to keep his mind on his task, his emotions contained to what was possible and his heart firmly under control.

  Throughout the day, he repeated that warning to himself often, but every time he and Clara touched, whenever their gazes brushed, he forgot it for minutes at a time.

  Late in the afternoon, he stood back, Clara at his side. “They are all put together.” The pews were crowded together against one wall. “Soon they’ll be arranged for church.” There was still work to be done—shellac to be applied, the pulpit to be built and the walls to be finished, but others had volunteered for those tasks.

  “Even more importantly, they’ll hold people who come to worship.”

  Did her voice contain a wistful note, as if she wanted to be among those worshippers?

  “Are we done?” Libby asked. “Now what?”

  He didn’t have the materials for putting on the finish. Didn’t know if Macpherson had what he needed. “Tomorrow I’ll clean the tools, sweep the floor and generally tidy up.”

  “Can we help?” Eleanor asked.

  He squeezed her shoulder. “I never turn down help.”

  “You’re right.” Clara studied the pews.

  “What am I right about?” Dare he hope she’d changed her mind about leaving?

  “There’s a great deal of satisfaction in knowing I had a hand in making those.”

  He reached for her hands, examined the back of each then turned them over and examined the palms. “These hands did a fine job.” His voice had grown husky.

  If the girls weren’t watching them, he would have placed a kiss on each palm. Would have followed it up with a kiss to her lips.

  “Then we’re going to be done?” Libby didn’t sound pleased about it.

  “Yup,” Blue answered.

  “You’ll go back to the ranch, won’t you?” She faced him, anger and disappointment twisting her face.

  “Maybe not. Why not wait and see?” He needed to tell them he meant to go wherever they went, but, fearing it might bring on an argument from Clara, he kept his plans to himself.

  “Let’s go for supper.” He held a hand out and took a girl on either side. His smile included Clara. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a third hand.”

  She laughed. “I’d say that was fortunate for you.” She walked at Eleanor’s side.

  As the meal drew to a close, he faced the same quandary as the night before. How to avoid returning to his own empty quarters.

  Bonnie and Clara, with the girls helping, began the task of cleaning up.

  “I’ve been working on a quilt,” Bonnie said. “I can’t quite work out the colors for the pattern. Clara, maybe you could help me?”

  “I know nothing about quilting, but I can have a look.”

  Blue swallowed back disappointment. This wasn’t a project he could participate in. He edged his chair back.

  Claude grabbed a handful of newspapers from the nearby shelf. “Maybe you’d like to read these. They’re old newspapers. In fact, Eddie gave them to me, so perhaps you’ve seen them already.”

  “No, I’ve not.” He took one of the offered papers, pushed his chair back from the table and began to read. His position gave him plenty of opportunity to glance up from the page and watch Clara as she washed dishes and then helped Bonnie lay out bright pieces of fabric on the table.

  Bonnie explained the pattern.

  “It’s like a giant jigsaw puzzle.” Clara sounded pleased. “What fun. Look, if you place this color here and then this one…”

  Bonnie clapped her hands. “That’s it. Why couldn’t I figure it out?” She grinned at Clara. “You sure you haven’t quilted before?”

  “No, but it looks like fun. Maybe someday I’ll learn how.”

  “I’d be glad to show you.”

  Blue lowered the page to watch Clara’s reaction. She drew her mouth back as if disappointed. An almost imperceptible sigh passed her teeth. “That’s very generous of you. However, I don’t know if I’ll be—” She paused. “Here.” She slid her attention toward Blue, stalled there when their gazes connected.

  Did he see regret? Longing? Or was he only wishing things could be different?

  “The invitation is open anytime.”

  The women bent over the quilt pieces for the next half hour as the girls watched.

  All too soon, Clara said she must take the girls to bed.

  “I’ll see you over.” Blue folded the paper and handed it back to Claude with thanks, then joined them.

  It was only a few yards to the shack. He could wish it was several blocks, but wishing didn’t change anything, and he should remember that.

  Wishing wouldn’t make the evening last, or make Clara safe. Wishing would not change who either of them were.
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br />   He brushed her arm. Afraid if he lingered, he’d forget what was possible and what wasn’t, he hurried away and didn’t look back.

  The next morning, the four of them swept and dusted. It took far less time than he’d have liked. The work was finished by midmorning.

  “Now what?” Libby demanded.

  “Now we are done.”

  “I know, but what are we going to do now?”

  He shrugged. He gave Clara a helpless look, but she wore the same demanding, questioning look as her daughter. In fact, all three stared at him, waiting for him to tell them what was next.

  How could he?

  Besides, what did they truly want?

  What did he truly want?

  Now was the time to decide. Only he wasn’t sure.

  “I have something to take care of, so I’m going for a ride this afternoon.”

  “When will you be back?” Eleanor asked, her trembling voice revealing her worry that he’d ride away without a backward look.

  “Later this afternoon.” He cupped her head. “But I will come back. I promise. Okay?”

  She nodded.

  He went to the Mortons’ for dinner, then saddled his horse and rode from town. Ignoring the trail, he rode directly north. He didn’t care to meet anyone. He needed to think.

  His gaze swept the landscape before him. To his left were the mountains, the rolling hills that were covered with lush grass during the summer. To his right the hills flattened toward the prairie, good for raising horses and cows. From the cabins he saw, it seemed it was also good for homesteaders who came in steadily increasing numbers. The railway would soon cross the country, joining the eastern provinces with British Columbia and bringing even more settlers.

  It was good country.

  After a couple of miles, he settled back in the saddle and let his mind examine the bothersome thoughts he’d been avoiding.

  He didn’t want to go to Fort Calgary. He knew no one there. He wanted to settle down among people he’d grown to love and trust.

  All the weeks and months he’d been trying not to think past the moment in which he lived, his brain had been hoping and planning, and now a fully developed dream made itself known.

  Often, as he had been taking care of Eddie’s cows, he’d come across a pretty little valley. A small stream ran through it. Lush grass covered the rolling hills.

  He’d gone out of his way to pass the same valley.

  In his mind he pictured the place, a house on the plain next to the stream, a barn and other outbuildings to one side, cattle grazing contentedly on the hills.

  That’s what he wanted. What he’d always wanted.

  A place of his own. A home of his own and a family.

  Now those pictures in his mind sharpened, grew more detailed. A woman stepped from the house and waved, her golden hair bright in the sunshine. Two girls stood by her side. Clara, Eleanor and Libby.

  That’s what he wanted.

  Not just to make sure they were safe but to make them part of his life. To love and cherish them as long as he was alive. The words of the psalm filled his heart. He restoreth my soul.

  It might be possible if they grew to love him, too.

  But would Clara ever stop running? Ever settle down and forget her past?

  What would it take? Assurance that she was safe. That her father wouldn’t send someone after her. That he wouldn’t—couldn’t—take the girls away.

  He reined to his left. If that dark stranger was still camping in the same spot, he’d reach the place in a few miles.

  And he’d demand to know the man’s purpose. Perhaps he could eliminate one fear from Clara’s life.

  As he neared the area, he slowed down, alert to any sign of the stranger. Blue did not want to ride into a trap or startle the man and get himself shot.

  “Hello?” he called as he drew closer. “Anyone about?” He slowed as he saw evidence of a recent campfire and a pot nearby.

  He peered into the shadows. “Could a man get a drink of coffee?” he shouted. He stopped but stayed in his saddle lest he need to ride away in a hurry.

  In a moment his persistence paid off. The man stepped into view. “You again?”

  “Yup. Had such a nice welcome last time, I didn’t think you’d object.”

  The man grunted and threw a piece of wood on the coals. “Coffee’s cold.” He set the pot over the flames.

  Blue swung to the ground but kept the reins of the horse in his fist. His only defense, should the man turn ugly, was escape.

  “You’ve been hanging around a few days,” he observed as if it didn’t matter and he only made idle observation.

  The man straightened and faced him. “It’s a free country last time I checked.”

  Blue nodded. “Was last time I checked, too.”

  They stared at the coffeepot until coffee sputtered through the spout.

  The man grabbed a glove and pulled aside the pot, poured the dark liquid into two tin mugs and handed one to Blue.

  “Thanks,” Blue said. “Don’t think I caught your name.”

  “Don’t think I threw it.”

  “You looking for someone?” Like a woman and two little girls.

  The stranger turned to face him, eyes dark and challenging. “You planning to write a book?”

  “Hadn’t thought to.” He took a gulp of the scalding coffee. Then he decided to get direct. “But here’s my problem. I care about some people who think you might be looking for them. It has them upset and worried. I’d like to fix that.”

  “Them?”

  “That’s right.” He sent a swift prayer that he hadn’t revealed more than was safe for Clara and the girls.

  The man drained his cup without flinching though the drink steamed, convincing Blue he had a throat of iron.

  “I can see you’re curious.” The stranger dropped his cup to the ground, crossed his arms over his chest and balanced on the balls of his feet. “You going to keep bothering me until you learn my business?”

  Blue shrugged. “Wouldn’t bother you at all if I knew you didn’t pose a threat to people I care about.”

  The man rocked back and forth, his expression as hard as the rocks around the fire pit.

  Blue held his cup before him. He would outwait this man. He wouldn’t leave until he got a satisfactory answer.

  He wasn’t riding away until he could be assured Clara and the girls were safe.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Clara stood inside the little shack while the girls played outside, promising to stay nearby.

  Alone and lonely, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Blue had ridden away without explanation. Not that he owed her one, but still. Couldn’t he have said more than he’d be back? When? And then what? Was he planning to return to the ranch now that his job at the church was done? The ache inside her heart clawed up her throat.

  She shook her head. Enough feeling sorry for herself. She’d grown careless about putting the girls’ clothes in their bag and she took a few minutes to fold each item carefully and put it away.

  For a moment she let herself miss the pretty dresses they’d once owned. But that was in the past. It wasn’t pretty clothes that mattered. It was staying together.

  The boxes had somehow shifted during their stay, and she carefully arranged them into neater piles. One box tumbled over, and she gathered up the contents—a winter coat with one sleeve torn, a worn hat, a dress that was no more than a rag, a worn sweater and some old newspapers. Seems the Mortons didn’t throw things out. They stored them. She put everything back in the box and finished tidying, then swept the floor carefully.

  It only took a few minutes and then she stood in the middle of the small space.

  Bonnie had told her how Cassie had started the business the Mortons now ran. Though she meant to be independent, Roper wasn’t happy about leaving her in town. When he found the children they had eventually adopted, he struck a deal with Cassie. He’d help her build her house if she helped
take care of the children. This tiny shack had been temporary quarters for Cassie and the children while Roper built the house the Mortons now occupied.

  Clara smiled. Seemed she and Cassie had much in common. They both lived in this tiny shack and had a man in their lives who objected to their independence.

  Her smile disappeared into a choked sob.

  Cassie’s story had ended differently than Clara’s would.

  Enough of that. She had two children who meant more than the world to her. Their murmured voices came from the sunny side of the shack.

  The rattle of a harness, the thud of horse hooves and the creaking of wood signaled the approach of a heavy wagon.

  Her heart stilled. Was it the stagecoach? Finally?

  “Whoa. Whoa.”

  She opened the door and stepped outside so she could see. Perhaps it was only another farm wagon. But no, it was the stagecoach pulling to a stop before Macpherson’s store.

  This was what she’d been waiting for. She should feel relief. Not this clogging tightness in her chest. Not the sudden drop of her heart.

  She pressed her palm to her chest as if she could still the turmoil within.

  She recognized the emotion for what it was. Anxiety. She didn’t want to leave. But—

  Her thoughts were cut short when the stagecoach door opened and a man in city wear stepped out.

  Her heart lodged in her throat.

  She must be mistaken. Oh, God, please let me be mistaken.

  The man brushed off his coat, adjusted his hat and turned to consider the tiny, dusty town.

  Clara pressed back against the shack. Father. He’d found her. Her knees folded. She forced them to straighten as her thoughts raced. Run. Leave. Get away. She looked around. Where? How?

  First things first.

  She backed out of sight and turned to face the girls, who played at the side of the shack. “Stay right there. Do not move. Do not make a sound. Do you hear?”

  Eleanor’s eyes widened at the intensity of Clara’s instructions.

  Libby looked curious. “Why, Mama?” she whispered.

  “Don’t ask questions, and do not move. Okay?”

  Eleanor nodded and grabbed Libby’s hand. “We’ll stay right here.”