“I’m sorry, darlin’. I wish I could bring him back for you,” Slater said. Lark was further moved to her own tears as she saw the moisture heavy in Slater’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
Katherine’s sobs only increased, and she tightened her embrace.
“This here’s my pretty friend,” Lark heard Tom announce to the children. She turned once more, forcing a friendly smile to her face when she saw the three children staring at her.
“Hello,” she greeted.
The children stared—Johnny and Lizzy from where they stood and Charlie from his place in Tom’s arms. She almost smiled when she saw Charlie’s small fingers travel to the back of Tom’s neck to begin nervously fiddling with his hair.
“Who’re you?” Charlie asked.
“I-I’m Lark,” Lark stammered. “I cook and keep house for Slater and Tom.”
Charlie smiled. “I think you’re pretty,” he said.
“Me too,” Lizzy agreed. Lark glanced down to see Lizzy smiling at her. The girl stepped forward, taking Lark’s hand in her own. “Do you live at the ranch house too?” she asked.
“Yes…I do.”
“Our pa died,” Lizzy bluntly offered.
Lark’s heart was tearing in two. The poor babies! How frightened they must be—how terribly frightened!
Instantly, she knelt down before the girl. “I know…and I’m so sorry. My daddy died too…a long time ago.”
Lizzy nodded and smiled at Lark again.
Lark reached up, brushing a strand of hair from the little girl’s face. “So we’ll be good friends.”
“Because we understand?” Lizzy offered.
“Yes…because we understand,” Lark assured her.
“I’m Johnny,” the older boy said, offering a hand to Lark.
Lark smiled, standing and accepting his hand.
He shook hers firmly and announced, “I’m the oldest and plum capable of takin’ care of things.”
Lark nodded. “I can see that. I’m sure you’ve been a great comfort to your mother. I’m certain she’s very grateful for your help.”
Johnny nodded, and Lark’s smile broadened, for there was a bit of his cousin Slater in his demeanor—something self-reliant and somewhat impatient.
At last, Katherine gently pushed herself from Slater’s arms. Dabbing at her tears with a handkerchief, she turned and offered a small, gloved hand to Lark.
“Forgive me. I’m just…I’m just not myself these days. Katherine Thornquist. I didn’t intend to be so impolite,” she said.
Lark accepted the woman’s hand and smiled at her. “I’m Lark…and please don’t concern yourself with proprieties, Mrs. Thornquist. And please know that I’m so very sorry for your loss.”
Katherine nodded, dabbing more tears from her eyes, and said, “Thank you, Lark. Thank you…truly.” Katherine smiled at Slater and then Tom. Tom set Charlie down, and Katherine threw herself into his comforting embrace, lingering for several long moments—but not as she had with Slater.
“At least I’ve got these dear ones to come home to,” she said, placing a tender gloved-hand to Tom’s cheek.
Tom kissed her forehead. “We’re plum tickled to have you…and you know it, Katie,” he said. “We ain’t happy about the circumstances…but we’re glad you’ve come to us.”
The stagecoach drivers had unloaded Katherine’s trunks from the top of the coach. Slater slapped Johnny on the back and said, “You look mighty strong, boy. Why don’t you help me get these trunks over to that wagon yonder?” He nodded toward the team and wagon waiting in the alley across the street.
“Yes, sir,” Johnny said.
“Alrighty then…let’s get it done.”
“Slater’s a might concerned about the weather, Katie,” Tom explained. “Do you need anything from the general store before we head for home?”
Katherine forced a smile. “Lizzy and I will simply pay a visit to the powder room inside, if that’s all right. Otherwise, we have what we need.”
“Then we’ll get the wagon loaded and ready,” Tom said.
Tom reached into his pocket and withdrew a silver dollar. “Lark, honey,” he began, handing the dollar to her, “why don’t you distract Mrs. Gunderson a bit…buy the children a licorice whip or somethin’ so that Kate don’t get trapped into too much conversation?”
Lark smiled, delighted by Tom’s thoughtfulness. “That is a very wise notion,” she told him.
“I’ll keep Charlie out here with us, Katie,” he said. “You let Lark go on in first.”
“I’d be in there for an hour!” Katherine whispered to Lark. “And I don’t really feel up to…to…to talkin’ about…”
Lark laid a hand on Katherine’s arm. “You just freshen up, and we’ll get home and settle everyone in.”
Katherine smiled, though her eyes were filled with pain and trepidation. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
Lark nodded. However, inside she was boiling with conflicting emotions. Why did Katherine have to be so kind and vulnerable? Why did her children have to be so adorable? There was no way Slater could not be entirely captivated by them all—especially Katherine. But what could be done now? Nothing. She simply had to endure whatever the situation afforded.
Inhaling a deep breath of resolve, Lark entered the general store, returning Mrs. Gunderson’s wave. “What’s all this?” Mrs. Gunderson asked. “Is that Katie Thornquist?”
Yes, it looked as if it would be quite a chore to distract Mrs. Gunderson long enough for Katherine and Lizzy to visit the powder room.
“Yes,” Lark began, approaching the counter and lowering her voice, “and I’m afraid she’ll just melt if you ask her about it now, Mrs. Gunderson. You see…she’s lost her husband.”
Mrs. Gunderson gasped, and Lark laid the silver dollar down on the counter. “I’ll explain…but I need three licorice whips…”
Mrs. Gunderson nodded, listening intently as Lark explained—as she eyed the silver dollar on the counter and wrapped three licorice whips in white paper.
Slater leaned back against the wagon, watching Lark as she exited the general store with Katherine and Lizzy. His mouth watered as he studied her, and he swallowed the excess moisture of desire. No one could say Slater Evans was lacking in self-control. Nope, no one! It had taken near every bit of strength in him to keep from her—to keep from simply throwing his brains to the wind and having her. Still, with every passing day he wondered how long he could keep his desires restrained, his feelings a secret.
He couldn’t keep the amused grin from spreading across his face as she approached. She looked so darn adorable in that little slicker he’d bought for her—good enough to lick.
She smiled as she approached him. “Mrs. Gunderson felt so bad about Katherine’s husband,” she said quietly, “that she gave me seven licorice whips instead of three.” She unfolded the length of white paper in her hand, stripped out a long piece of licorice, and offered it to him. “I know how you like them.”
Slater’s mouth watered—but not for want of the licorice. “Why, thank you, baby,” he said, accepting the length of candy.
“Will you sit in the back with me?” Lizzy asked, taking hold of Lark’s hand.
Slater wanted Lark on the wagon seat with him. Still, he knew Katherine would want to talk on the way home. Lark would be more comfortable in the wagon bed with Tom and the children—and warmer. It had become profoundly important to Slater that Lark be kept warm.
“Of course,” Lark said, though he sensed she was uneasy. Perhaps she was worried about being cold—though he liked to think she was perhaps jealous that Katherine was already climbing up to the wagon seat.
“Here ya go, darlin’,” Slater said, putting one end of the licorice whip in his mouth and lifting Lizzy into the back of the wagon. Lizzy giggled, and Slater thought that it would be good to have the laughter of children at the house.
“And here you go, baby,” he said, lifting Lark in
the cradle of his arms.
She gasped, startled by his picking her up, and he chuckled as he lifted her over the side of the wagon and into the bed.
He bit into the licorice whip, tearing off a piece with his front teeth and stepping up to sit down on the wagon seat next to Katherine.
“Everybody ready?” he asked over his shoulder. The children nodded, and Tom chuckled as Charlie and Lizzy immediately snuggled up on either side of Lark.
He chuckled when he heard Tom say to Johnny, “Looks like a mighty nice place to be, don’t it?” Johnny blushed, and Slater chuckled too.
“Here,” he said, taking off his hat. Reaching around, he soundly pressed the hat onto Lark’s head. “Keep yer head warm.”
She smiled up at him, nodding. Truth be told, he nearly bolted back over the wagon seat to kiss her then and there! She always looked so darling wearing his hat. He’d taken to putting it on her head whenever the opportunity was ripe. The way it sat so low over her forehead—he sometimes wondered if she could just curl up into a little ball and have it swallow her up altogether!
“Thank you for this, Slater,” Katherine said.
He unwillingly turned his attention from Lark to Katherine. “You’re welcome, honey,” he said. He put the licorice whip between his teeth and took hold of the lines. “Girls,” he said, slapping the lines at the back of the team. Dolly whinnied as she and Coaly began pulling the wagon home.
Things would be different with Katherine and the children there now. He wondered for a moment if it would be easier to resist pulling Lark into his arms every time he saw her with so many other people in the house—or would it be more difficult? Would other people wanting or needing her time—taking her time away from him—spur him on to more self-control or less?
Lark watched as Katherine linked her arms through one of Slater’s and rested her head on his broad shoulder. His hat was warm—smelled like him—and she tried to concentrate on the fact that he’d placed it on her head. She imagined the gesture had been more than simply a concern for her being warm enough—that perhaps it was his way of connecting with her somehow. Still, she had never seen Slater so attentive to anyone—not anyone! She watched while his disarming smile stayed on his face as he talked with Katherine—constantly stayed on his face. Several times, Katherine put her small hand to Slater’s whiskery cheek and spoke softly—lovingly smiling up at him.
As the wagon rumbled along, Lark felt the odd sensation of wanting to escape begin to spread through her. Her sense of security—of happiness—was beginning to wane.
She looked up to see Tom watching her as she handed Charlie and Lizzy a licorice whip. She handed one to Johnny and then to Tom.
“What’s the matter, honey?” he asked quietly.
Lark shook her head a little and tipped it back to look at Tom from underneath the hat’s brim. She shrugged and said, “Oh…nothing. Just a little melancholy, I suppose.”
Tom smiled. “Now, I don’t understand that…not when it’s so near to Thanksgivin’,” he said. “Christmas is just a ways away too…and now we’ll have young-uns here for both. That makes for a heap more fun, don’t you think?”
Lark smiled and nodded. “Yes. Yes, it does.” She could well imagine how delightful Thanksgiving and Christmas would be with the children in the house—especially Lizzy and Charlie.
“Does Santa come to your house, mister?” Charlie asked.
“Course he does, boy! Course he does,” Tom said, reaching out to tousle the boy’s hair. “I bet old Santy Claus will bring somethin’ special for ya this year. You too, Lizzy.”
“And Johnny too?” Charlie asked.
“Of course!” Tom exclaimed.
Lark smiled as she saw the relief plain on Johnny’s face. The death of his father had forced the boy to growing up faster than he was meant to. It was something Lark understood all too well, and her heart ached for him.
“Even Miss Lark?” Lizzy asked.
“Well…I’m not sure he—” Lark began.
“Especially Miss Lark,” Tom interrupted. “She deserves somethin’ from Santy near more than anybody else.”
“Why?” Lizzy asked.
Tom chuckled, and Lark smiled at the familiar mischief gleaming in his eyes. “’Cause she’s always havin’ to mend your cousin Slater’s raggedy drawers, that’s why,” he answered.
The children erupted into giggles. Tom laughed, amused by his own wit and the delight of the children.
“My drawers are nobody’s business but mine, Tom,” Slater grumbled from the wagon seat.
Tom winked to Lizzy, put one hand to the side of his mouth, and loudly whispered, “You see why Santy will spoil Miss Lark? Slater’s drawers are near as raggedy as he is.”
The children laughed, and Lark giggled, gasping when Slater reached around and pulled his hat down over her eyes.
“You hush, baby,” he teased her, “or else you’ll have to reckon with me and my raggedy drawers.”
By the time Lark had pushed the hat back on her head, Slater and Katherine were already lost in their own conversation once more. It seemed as if they were each entirely unaware of anything else—of anyone else. Lark’s anxiety thickened like cold mud.
“They was close as kids,” Tom said in a lowered voice.
“Were they?” Lark muttered, looking away to the horizon again.
“Yep. I used to feel badly that they was—”
“I know, I know. You felt bad that they were cousins. I know,” Lark interrupted, annoyed.
Tom suspiciously arched one eyebrow “Now, you don’t have nothin’ to worry about, honey. They’re just good friends, that’s all. Just good friends.”
Lark looked at him, attempting to feign innocence. “Worry? Why would I be worried about it?”
Tom smiled. He leaned over Charlie and whispered, “I ain’t as blind as Slater, darlin’.”
She looked to him, horrified—astonished and thoroughly humiliated. Was it so obvious—her secret where Slater was concerned? She thought she’d been concealing it well. If Tom had seen through her feigned indifference, could others be aware of her feelings for Slater too?
“Oh, don’t get yer bloomers in a ruffle, Lark,” Tom whispered, though still grinning. “Nobody but me could ever see it.”
But Lark didn’t believe him. Tom was uniquely observant—she knew he was—but it didn’t make her feel any less agitated.
“What’s in them packages, Miss Lark?” Lizzy asked, pulling Lark’s attention from the worrisome course of her thoughts.
“Oh!” Lark said, suddenly remembering her purchases. “Those are mine. Some fabrics, thread…some new needles.”
“And a book,” Charlie said, scrambling over the wagon bed to pick up the small poetry book Lark had purchased.
“Yes,” Lark said as he handed the book to her.
“Favorite Poems,” Lizzy read as she studied the cover. “Oh, it’s so pretty, Miss Lark! Will you read to us?”
“Well…it’s a book of poetry,” Lark explained, thinking her explanation sounded ridiculous, considering Lizzy had already read the title. “Are you sure you want me to read it to you? You might not find it interesting.”
“Oh, we love books!” Charlie exclaimed. “We don’t care what they are.”
“Go on, darlin’,” Tom encouraged. “It’s a ways home yet.”
“All right,” Lark said. “Where should I begin?”
“With the first poem,” Lizzy said.
Lark opened the small book and turned several pages of publication information, finally settling on the first poem.
She cleared her throat and read, “ ‘The Gardener’s Gate’…by George Whickets.”
“I know this one,” Tom said, smiling.
“So do I,” Slater unexpectedly offered from the wagon seat.
“Oh, you do not,” Katherine said, playfully slapping Slater on the arm.
Slater glanced over his shoulder to Lark. He winked at her and recited, “And there beneath
the meadow dew…lay petals which the soft wind blew…from roses where her garden grew…beneath her window’s fragrant view…?”
Lark skimmed the page, smiled, and said, “Yes…toward the end. Here it is.”
He winked at her, and molten warmth traveled through her body.
“Oh, read it! Please read it all,” Lizzy begged.
Lark smiled as Charlie laid his head on her lap in preparation for the reading. Even Johnny looked interested. Tom—as ever—was smiling.
“ ‘The Gardener’s Gate,’ ” she began again, “by George Whickets.”
CHAPTER NINE
Slater pulled the team up before the house.
“Oh, Slater!” Katherine exclaimed. “It’s just as I remember! You boys haven’t changed it a breath.”
“Nope,” Slater affirmed. “Me and Tom…well, we’re pretty set in our ways. Ain’t that so, Lark?”
Lark was surprised by his addressing her. “Oh…um…yes. You’re very set.”
“Not too set to accept a bit of change, I hope,” Katherine offered.
“You ain’t no change, Kate,” Slater told her. He smiled, adding, “Yer more like…habit.”
Lark couldn’t wait to evacuate the wagon. The jealousy gnawing within her bosom was feverish. She didn’t care what Tom said; she did have reason to worry. Katherine was Slater’s first love—and from what she’d been told, a body never completely recovers from their first. Furthermore, Katherine was in distress—a beautiful, fragile vision of vulnerability. Lark briefly wished she’d worn the pretty lavender wool coat Slater had given her. At least in that she would’ve looked somewhat feminine. Instead, she sat in the back of the wagon like a child, wearing a plain buckskin slicker and Slater’s hat. Why, she must look ridiculous!
Thus, without waiting another moment, Lark stood up in the wagon bed and leapt over the side.
She needed distraction, for she could feel the tears brimming in her eyes as she watched Slater assist Katherine in elegantly descending from the wagon.
“Charlie,” she said, taking hold of the small boy’s hand, “would you like to go with me to feed the chickens?”
“Oh yes! Yes!” Charlie chirped, clapping his hands together with excitement. “Can I go, Mama? Can I?”
Weathered Too Young Page 14
