As for Leah, she did not know why, but she permitted him to hold her tight. When his lips touched hers, she did not pull away but waited until he finally released her. “I’ve got to go in,” she said.
He reached out, took her hand, and said quietly, “I wish at a time like this that I hadn’t led the life I had.”
“It’s never too late to change.”
At that moment, perhaps for the first time in her life, Leah felt something more than a mild interest in a man. As she kept her eyes fixed on Stuart’s face, she saw in him something that she had been seeking for, for a long time. One part of her was aware of that side of Stuart Winslow that was not what a woman would want, but she could see in his eyes a fire and a zest for living that drew her to him. Without meaning to, she put out her hand and laid it on his cheek. “It’s never too late to change,” she said again. “All of us have to—”
Leah never finished her statement, for the silence of the moonlit night was broken by the increasing roar of an automobile. Quickly Leah turned to see Mott Castleton’s vehicle appear. A wave of guilt washed over her, and she cast a quick glance at Stuart. He simply stood there, turning to face Castleton as he stopped the car and strode toward them. Castleton’s face was taut with anger, and even by the faint light, Leah could see that his body was stiff with rage.
“Stuart, get out of here!”
Quickly Leah stepped forward, for she saw that Mott’s fists were clenched and she did not want the two men to get into a fight. “It was my fault.”
“No. It was my fault,” Stuart said. He stood straight and faced the larger man, his own body tense. He was, however, not ready for what happened next. Mott suddenly struck out, catching Stuart high on the forehead and driving him backward.
“You’re a rotter, Stuart! You don’t know a decent woman from the trash you run around with! Never come around Leah again! Do you hear me?”
Stuart jumped to his feet, and for one terrible moment, Leah thought he was about to throw himself forward. She stepped between them and put a hand on each man’s chest. “Please,” she begged, “don’t fight.”
Stuart Winslow was struggling inside to control himself. He was handy with his fists, and although Mott Castleton was larger, there was no doubt in his mind that he could whip him. But Leah’s eyes pleaded with him, and he released a ragged breath. “All right, Leah.” His eyes came around to Mott, and he said, “I don’t want any trouble.”
“Get out of here and stay away from Leah!”
Without a word, Stuart walked to his buggy, got in, and spoke to the horse, which moved forward.
“There was nothing wrong, Mott,” Leah said. “He was afraid to leave me in the automobile by myself. He was just giving me a ride home.”
“That wasn’t what he wanted. He’s not worried about your safety. He’s never worried about any woman. Don’t you know that, Leah? You don’t know the kind of man he is.”
Leah knew there was truth in Mott’s words, but she could not answer him, except to say, “I know, but anyone can change.”
Mott Castleton twisted his head to stare at the disappearing buggy. When he turned his head back, his eyes still held a cold glint of anger. “Not him,” he said. And then he put out his hand, and took hers. “I was worried about you, Leah. You don’t know how to handle that kind of man. Other women thought they knew him, and they wound up disgraced.”
Leah remained silent, pondering the truth she felt in Mott’s words. Then she said quickly, “I’ve got to go in, Mott.” He held her hand for a moment, not allowing her to leave, and she looked up at him, surprised. She saw genuine concern in his eyes, and she whispered, “Don’t worry about it, Mott. You’re right. I should have stayed in the automobile and waited for you.”
He pulled her forward then and kissed her. When she pulled away, he said, “Good night, Leah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Leah went inside and moved at once toward her bedroom. She crossed the room in the darkness and looked out the window. Moonlight flooded the street, and she watched as Mott drove the noisy automobile away. For a long time she stood quietly. Then finally she murmured, “He could change. I could help him. . . .”
CHAPTER TWO
“What We Have Is Forever!”
“I think Stuart’s doing much better, don’t you, Richard?”
Diane Bascom Winslow had turned from the dressing table where she had finished doing her hair. She was of no more than average height and not a beauty in the classic sense, but at the age of fifty, she possessed a graceful elegance, and her spirit shone out of her fine light brown eyes. Her hair was also brown with tints of red. She was a quiet woman but given to flashes of humor. Now, however, she seemed concerned and came over to stand beside the large man who stood staring out of the window. “Don’t you think so, Richard?”
Over six feet tall and strongly built, Richard Winslow’s black hair had some gray in it now at the age of fifty-one. He had intense dark blue eyes, heavy eyebrows, and there was strength carved into his features. His chin was rather blunt, and he tended to shove it forward aggressively. Even the gestures he made with his hand as he turned to answer his wife demonstrated a certain power. “No. I don’t think so!” he said, and the glumness made its mark on his face.
“But he’s doing so well out on the farm.”
“He’d do better to pay more attention to the business. That’s where the money is. If it weren’t for Jeff, I wouldn’t have any hope at all.”
“Jeff’s a little older, and he’s more given to business, Richard.”
The two had been over this many times before. Winslow owned two large general merchandise stores, one in Lewisville, another in Fort Smith, and he was thinking of opening up a third. He had also bought up land, and the only part of the small empire he had created that interested Stuart was the farm, mostly because of the fast horses that the family bred there.
“He’s more interested in dances, fast horses, and parties than he is in a profession,” Richard said shortly.
“He’s young. He just hasn’t found his way yet.”
“You always make excuses for him, don’t you, Diane?” Richard Winslow was truly known by one person, and that was this woman who stood before him. Now he came over and put his arm around her and said, “I hate to be an old bear all the time.”
“I know you love Stuart,” Diane said quietly. She put her hand on his cheek. He had muttonchop whiskers that she had hated at first but had grown to like over the years. She stroked them now, trying to soothe his irritation. Always, she was the one who had to stand between her husband and the headstrong son who, in many ways, was so much like his father. “He has been coming to church some lately.”
“Yes. I’ll give him that.”
“I think that’s because of Brother Fields. He always liked Charles, and he’s had a good influence on him.” They spoke of Reverend Charles Fields, the pastor of the Baptist church. Richard was a deacon there and had been instrumental in getting the church to issue a call to a young man whom he admired greatly. Charles Fields had grown up almost as a member of the Winslow family, and now Richard Winslow took satisfaction in the fact that the entire church was united behind the young pastor. “He’s been good for Stuart, but Stuart’s got to take his own life in hand.”
“I’m sure he will. We’ve just got to encourage him.”
“What about this young woman he’s been seeing? Do you know anything about her?”
“She’s very respectable, I think. Stuart introduced me to her after church. Her name is Leah Freeman. You were having a meeting with the deacons. I think she’s a fine young woman.”
Richard Winslow had grown a bit cynical over the years that his youngest son would ever come around and settle down and lead a normal life. Stuart had given him a hard education in parenting, and now Richard said noncommittally, “I hope so. He needs someone to help him. Well, come along. Let’s go meet her.”
****
As Ellie came in, she laughed at once,
saying, “Where did you get that thing?” She walked over and picked up a small brown bear with bright buttons for eyes and moveable arms. She twisted them around and said, “This is cute. Where did you get it?”
“Stuart gave it to me. It’s called a teddy bear.”
“Why do they call it that?”
“Stuart said it’s named after the president.”
“After President Roosevelt? Why would a toy bear be named after a president?”
Leah turned and put down her brush. “He said that President Roosevelt was visiting Mississippi, and he went bear hunting there. They gave him an easy shot at a cub—the photographers, that is—but he wouldn’t shoot at a helpless target. Then Stuart said there was a man named Morris Michtom who had a toy store and had read about the story, so he made this toy cub bear and named it Teddy.”
“It seems to me that that would be against the law.”
“Well, you know what the president’s like. He gave his permission, and now everyone wants one.” She went over and picked up the bear and held it to her cheek. “Isn’t he lovely? I thought it was sweet of Stuart.”
Ellie Mason stood for a moment, her eyes fixed on her friend who held the bear, and she shook her head. She was a worldly-wise young woman, much more so than Leah Freeman, and now a sudden thought came to her. It expressed itself by a grin in her eyes, and, as usual, she came out with it rather bluntly. No one had ever accused Ellie Mason of having any tact.
“Has Stuart ever—you know—acted ungentlemanly toward you when you were alone?”
“Ellie!” Leah’s face flushed, and she gave her friend an indignant look. “What a rude thing to say!”
Ellie laughed. “I see he has. Well, he wouldn’t be Stuart Winslow if he hadn’t tried something like that.”
“I don’t want to talk about that, Ellie.”
“You may not want to, but you know what’s on Stuart’s mind.”
The flush deepened on Leah’s face, for Stuart had indeed attempted improprieties she had been forced to fight off quite stringently. It had come to the point where she had threatened to never go out with him again if he didn’t behave as a gentleman should. Now she could not think of an answer to make, and she saw that Ellie was watching her with a cynical look. “He’s . . . just not . . .”
Seeing Leah’s inability to find words to put Stuart Winslow in a little box, Ellie sobered. “You’re serious about him, aren’t you?”
“I like him a lot, Ellie. I really do.”
Ellie came over and looked directly into Leah Freeman’s eyes. “Let me give you some advice. Don’t be swayed by his charms until you’ve got him tied down.”
“Tied down?”
“Yes, and I don’t mean simply an engagement ring. Stuart has convinced more than one young woman that he meant to marry her.”
“How do you know all this?”
“It’s common knowledge, but I got it from Ace. As a matter of fact, he’s kind of worried about you, too.”
“Ace is? Why, have you two been talking about me?”
“Of course we have.” Now it was Ellie’s turn to hesitate. She gave a defiant look at Leah and then shrugged. “I’ve not been as good as I should have with Ace, but I don’t want it to happen to you.”
“Ellie, you shouldn’t have!”
“Don’t preach at me, Leah. I am what I am, and that’s why I’m telling you I know what Stuart Winslow is like. He’s been spoiled to the bone by his good looks and his money. He can sing and play, and women have always fallen over themselves with him. Don’t let it happen to you. Get him tied down—get him all the way to the altar. That’s the only way with a man like him.”
Leah felt there was something wrong in even talking about such a thing, and she stood silently as Ellie continued. Inwardly she knew there was some truth to her friend’s words, for they were similar to the warning Mott had given her, but she had become much fonder of Stuart Winslow than she had ever imagined she would.
“And I’ll tell you something else,” Ellie said firmly. “If you do marry him, it’s not over.”
“What does that mean? It’s not over.”
“I mean Stuart’s going to look at other women. He’s handsome as mortal sin, and women have become a game to him. There’ll be plenty around to give him anything he wants.”
“I don’t believe that! If I did marry Stuart, he’d change.”
Ellie knew then how serious her friend was. “When I hear that kind of talk,” she said, “I know there’s real trouble right around the corner.” She chewed her lip for a moment, then shook her head and walked out of the room without another word. As she closed the door, her brow was furrowed. “I’ve got to convince her,” she muttered. “She doesn’t understand what kind of man Stuart is.”
****
Leah was impressed by the decor of the dining room at the home of Stuart’s parents as they sat down to dinner. It was a medium-sized room with an oak floor. The walls were papered in gold, blues, and greens, and there was a large marble fireplace to one side. A massive oak table with eight chairs upholstered in green fabric sat in the middle of the room on a large Persian area rug, and a sideboard was filled with silver tureens and platters.
The table was set with china and sparkling crystal, for Diane Winslow was a fine hostess. She did keep a servant who helped her, but Diane had taken great care in all the preparation for this meal.
“This is a lovely house you have,” Leah murmured.
“Richard designed every bit of it,” Diane said proudly. “He asked me what I wanted, I told him, and here it is.”
“That’s wonderful, Mr. Winslow.” Leah had been somewhat intimidated by Stuart’s father, but now she began to relax when he smiled at her compliment.
“Thank you, Miss Freeman. I don’t think I ever enjoyed anything quite as much as building this house for Diane. We had to wait a few years, and the first house we had was rather small. But I always told her I’d build her the house she wanted, and this is it.”
“I believe Dad could build the Taj Mahal if he put his mind to it,” Stuart remarked. “He’s always been able to accomplish anything he’s set his mind to.”
“Not quite,” Richard said.
His eyes were fastened on Stuart, and for one awful moment, his wife thought he was about to launch into one of the arguments that frequently occurred between the two men. Quickly she said, “Tell me how you became a typewriter, Leah.”
Leah sensed the immediate tension that filled the room. She glanced over at Jeff Winslow, who was twenty-five, two years older than Stuart. He was no more than medium height, lean with dark hair, and had mild blue eyes. She sensed a steadiness and reliability about him and liked him very much already. Her eyes shifted to Liza, Stuart’s nineteen-year-old sister. Leah felt that the girl did not approve of her, although she could not think of why. “Well,” Leah said, “when Mother moved away to St. Louis, I had to do something. I didn’t like it there at all. It was too big for me. . . .”
Richard Winslow listened as the girl talked, and he found himself liking her very much. She’s not at all like the floozies Stuart usually runs with, or so I’m told. This girl’s got character. Finally, he said, “I’m glad you visited our church.”
“Yes. You have a very fine pastor. I like his sermons very much.”
“What church did you belong to in Fort Smith?”
“The First Baptist there. I belonged to it all my life,” Leah said.
“I know the pastor very well,” Richard said. He mentioned his name, saying, “He’s a fine preacher.”
The talk went on for some time, and when the meal was finally over, the men moved away toward the parlor. Jeff stopped long enough to whisper to her, “Glad to have you here, Miss Freeman.” He winked at her and said insistently, “Maybe you can make a man out of Stuart.”
This statement startled Leah, but she had no time to respond. She helped carry the dishes into the kitchen and chatted amiably with Stuart’s mother.
“You’re a wonderful cook, Mrs. Winslow.”
“Do you like to cook, Leah?”
“Oh yes, Mrs. Winslow. My mother began teaching me when I was very young.”
Diane began cutting and dishing out the cake she planned to have in the parlor. “And you don’t have any family at all left in Fort Smith? Is that right?”
“Yes. I only had my mother and my brother and sister. But they all live far away.”
“Well, that’s sad. You must get very lonely at times,” Liza said as she helped her mother arrange the dessert on trays.
“Yes, I do, but I try to make the best of it. It’s nice living at Mrs. Gates’s boardinghouse. She’s almost been like a mother to us girls.”
Mrs. Winslow left the room, and as soon as she did, Liza said quickly, “I’m glad you came to visit, Miss Freeman, but I wanted to say one thing.” She hesitated, then shook her head. “I hate to speak against Stuart. He’s my brother and I love him . . . but be careful.”
Leah was more startled by this second warning. First from the brother and now from the sister. “What do you mean, Liza?”
“Stuart is—well, he has no morals where women are concerned.”
Leah did not know how to answer Liza. Indeed, she had no time, for right then Diane came back and asked her to help carry the tea service into the parlor. The Winslows were all musical, and she enjoyed a pleasant hour singing with all of them. Something about the family’s closeness appealed to her greatly, and never having had such a close family as the Winslows, Leah felt somewhat envious.
They talked at length about current affairs, and it was Leah who said, “I read in the paper yesterday that the Wright brothers are still working on that airplane of theirs. Do you think it’ll ever fly?”
“I sure do,” Jeff said. “I wish I could work with them. I’d like to go up in one of those things.”
“Not me,” Richard said. “Besides, it’ll never amount to anything.”
“Well, it’s a beginning, Dad,” Stuart said. “Everything has to begin small.”
“That’s true enough, I suppose.” Richard gave Stuart a direct look and said, “Have you given any more thought to giving your time to the business instead of running around playing that violin of yours at dances?”
The Glorious Prodigal Page 3
