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He jerked his thoughts back to reality. Nice hair did not change the cruelness of her heart.
“You’re Lucy Hall, I take it.”
“Where you plan to take it, mister?”
He grinned. She’d given him the perfect opening. “I’d like to take it and you to see your father.”
She stepped back and curled her lips like he had a bad smell.
“My father sent you?”
Coming here had been his idea, not Scout’s. “He figured you hadn’t received his letters.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “You tell him I got them just fine. You tell him I don’t care to hear from him. You tell him—” She gasped in air like a horse that had been rode too long and too hard.
He wasn’t about to give up just because some little filly was all tangled up in some sort of hornets nest. “He’s sick. Wants to see you. Seems reasonable enough.”
She leaned forward, her chin jutted out, her eyes warning of approaching thunder. “Mister, you had your say. I suggest you move on.”
“Trouble, Lucy gal?” The big man Wade took to be the owner breathed down his neck. Every nerve in his body jerked to full alert. He knew better than to mess with a man that size and with that warning note in his voice.
“I’m on my way.” But he’d be back.
He left the dining room and swung into the saddle. He rode past a rowdy bar. Knew the cowboys would be filling up the hotel rooms come nighttime. He could buy himself a bed but he was used to his own company. Preferred it to the sort he’d find crawling around town.
He reined his horse toward the thin stand of trees where he intended to set up camp. He unsaddled Two Bit and tossed him a handful of oats. He’d let him roam, picking what he could. The horse would come as soon as he whistled.
After finding a rock to lean his back on, Wade settled down to think. The heat beat at his skin. It caused the landscape to sway like grass in the wind. Nothing blocked his view of the town. A struggling prairie town with high hopes, few trees.
Nothing about this scenery compared to the ranch in the hills, to the west. There, grass grew high as a horse’s belly, a house sat in the shade of cottonwoods, and a pretty little creek made a beautiful sound as it washed over rocks. No one could see the ranch without loving it. Not even someone like Lucy. He was equally certain that if she saw Scout she would forget whatever little tiff had made her shut him out of her life.
He could drive a herd of cows and rope a wild mustang but how did a cowboy persuade a reluctant, beautiful woman to go where she didn’t want to go?
He intended to find a way. Maybe he could even use some help from God. He hadn’t put much stock in the faith his mother had taught him until last winter, but there was no denying God had answered his desperate prayer back then. He wasn’t sure if he had the right to ask anything more of the Man up above but figured it wouldn’t hurt.
God, Scout looked about to die when I left. He hoped he could fulfill this task he had given himself before the man drew his last breath. Seems only reasonable that he get the chance to see his daughter before he does. Might help if You show this Lucy gal that she should pay her father a visit.
He returned to town a few hours later and passed some time nosing about. As the evening shadows lengthened, he thought of riding to the front door of the dining room and going in for supper, but Harry had been a little less than welcoming in his final goodbye. But having asked around, he knew Lucy would be done as soon as the supper crowd left. He’d not been able to discover where she lived. People tended to be a little suspicious if his questions were too direct.
He decided he’d wait at the back of the Dry Creek dining room and reined his horse in that direction. Sooner or later he’d get a chance to talk to her, persuade her to visit her father. Once she knew the precarious nature of Scout’s health, there’d be no way she could refuse.
He slid from Two Bit’s back, and let the horse lounge in the shade provided by the board fence at the side of the alley. He leaned back against the rough lumber and got himself comfortable, pulling his hat low to shade his eyes. Anyone seeing him might think he slept on his feet. They’d be wrong. His ears registered every skittering bit of dirt, every creak of the fence, every footfall.
He cracked one eye at the patter of running feet. A small ragamuffin of a boy skidded to a halt fifteen feet away and stared from Wade to Two Bit. He heard the boy’s sharply indrawn breath, took note of his sudden wary stiffening and hid a smile as the youngster just as quickly donned a sullen expression and a slouch before he plucked a blade of grass from beside the fence, stuck it in his mouth and swaggered to the door of the dining room to lean back as bold and unconcerned as if he had his name on the deed.
Wade used one finger to tip his hat back. “Howdy.”
“Howdy.” The boy gave a barely there nod and a bold, uncompromising stare.
Wade lowered his hat again and settled back.
“You waiting for something?” For a youngster so scrawny Wade could practically count his ribs through his thin shirt, he sure did have a challenging way of talking.
“Just waiting.”
“You hoping to see Lucy, ain’t ya?”
“It concern you if I am?”
The boy scowled something fierce like a kid used to fighting his way through life. “Lucy don’t care for drifters hanging about.”
“Can’t say as I blame her.”
The boy snorted.
Wade shoved his hat back and came off the fence so fast the boy flattened himself to the wall. “Name’s Wade. Wade Miller.” He shoved his hand toward the boy.
“Roy. Just Roy.” He took Wade’s outstretched hand. His grip surprisingly firm for such an under-nourished-looking body.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Roy.” He leaned back, studying Roy. “You waiting for Lucy?” Did the boy have some claim on her? Too old to be her son. Maybe a brother, though Scout had never mentioned such.
“Just waiting.”
Wade gave him a steady look. He didn’t say it but he thought, Kid, don’t bother trying to whitewash the truth with me.
Roy must have read the unspoken words in Wade’s eyes. He rolled the end of the grass around in his mouth to inform Wade he might or might not choose to tell him more. “Lucy gives me a plate of food every night.”
Wade ran his gaze over the scrawny kid. “Looks like you could do with a good feeding.”
“Lucy says it’s impossible to fill a growing boy.”
“How old are you, Roy?”
“Ten. But I can do a man’s work. I work over at the livery barn. Mr. Peterson gives me a place to sleep in exchange for cleaning the barn and seeing the horses have feed and water.” The words came out in a rush as if Roy needed Wade to understand his value.
“Where’s your ma and pa?”
Roy’s expression grew indifferent. “Ain’t got none.”
A rattle at the doorknob pulled their attention to the Dry Creek dining room. Lucy stepped out with a plate piled halfway to the roof. “Hettie said there were lots of leftovers today. You’ll get a good feed tonight.” She ruffled Roy’s hair and beamed at him. “I see you washed up.”
Roy had his face buried in the food but spared her a pained look. “’Course I did. What you think I am? A…a…?” He couldn’t seem to find a fitting word and tilted his head in Wade’s direction instead. “Who’s he?”
Lucy jerked back, finally realizing his presence. Her expression grew a whole lot less welcoming. “What are you doing here?”
Wade snatched off his hat. “Ma’am, I just want to talk to you.”
“I think you already said all I want to hear.”
“What’s he want?” Roy spoke around a mouth crammed with food.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full. He’s nobody. Just another cowboy. I see hundreds of them.”
Roy wisely ignored her comment and continued shoveling in food but his eyes darted from Lucy to Wade.
“All I ask is that you allow me to explain the whole thing.” Once she knew how desperate the situation was, she’d surely agree to visit the ranch.
Roy paused from inhaling food. “You got no one to take you to the recitation tonight. He could take you.”
At the look Lucy gave Roy, Wade wondered if the boy would have singe marks.
“I don’t need an escort.”
Roy shrugged. “You said you don’t like walking home alone after dark.”
“You must have misunderstood me.”
Roy stopped chewing. He looked like she’d personally called him a liar. Like her approval of him meant more than the food itself. The boy scraped the last of the food into his mouth and ran his tongue over the plate. Well, maybe not more than food. But he was obviously hurt by Lucy’s remark.
Lucy saw it, too. Her expression flicked toward regret. “I’ll be fine, Roy. Don’t you worry about me.”
Wade saw his chances of Lucy agreeing to accompany him slipping away. “This here recitation—it’s like a meeting thing?”
“Lucy has a poem to say.” Roy sounded as proud as a papa.
“It’s the literary society.” Lucy’s tone made it plain that a cowboy wouldn’t enjoy such.
“I like recitations.” A lifetime ago he’d hovered behind a half-closed door and listened to recitations and music playing in the drawing room of the house where his ma worked. “I’d like to go if it’s open to cowboys.”
She didn’t miss his mocking tone and looked slightly regretful.
“Go with him,” Roy urged. “Ain’t you the one to always say a person shouldn’t be afraid to take a chance now and then?”
Lucy closed her eyes and sighed deeply. “Roy, do you write down everything I say and commit it to memory to quote at the most awkward moments?”
Roy got that hurt look again but Lucy smiled at him and squeezed his shoulder.
“You’ll go?”
“Of course I’ll go. I’m going to recite.”
Roy shook his head. “I mean with him.”
Lucy studied Roy a long moment. “I don’t see why it’s so important to you.”
“I want you to be safe.”
Lucy ruffled his hair. “For you, I’ll do it.” She faced Wade, an expression of pure stubbornness on her face. “On one condition.” She waited for him to accept.
“Can’t hardly agree to something when I don’t know what it is.”
“You promise not to talk about my father.”
He swallowed, weighing his options. His primary reason for wanting to go to the event had been to explain why Lucy must visit her father. But a pack of other reasons overtook that one. It had been a lifetime or two since he’d heard poetry. He imagined Lucy speaking with the laughter in her voice that she seemed to reserve for everyone but him. But poetry and a musical voice mattered not. He had to convince Lucy to visit her father. Perhaps if he bided his time, she would get curious and ask after Scout.
“Deal.” Yes, he’d promised not to talk about her father. He hadn’t, however, promised not to talk about himself.
Chapter Two
Wade couldn’t help but stare at Lucy. When he’d first seen her, serving in the dining room, she’d worn a black skirt, a white top and a crisp white apron with frills along the edges. Her hair had been up in a tight bun although bits of it had come loose. She now wore a dark pink dress with a wide pink ribbon around her tiny waist. A few more strands of hair had also fallen loose from her bun. She looked very pretty. Like some kind of candy.
Wade glanced down at his trousers, suddenly aware he might not be fit to attend a literary society function. But having gained Lucy’s agreement to let him accompany her, he wasn’t about to let his lack of Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes hinder him.
She tilted her head in the direction they were to go.
He whistled for Two Bit to follow, nodded goodbye to Roy and fell in at Lucy’s side.
She waited until they turned from the alley into the street before she spoke. “I’m only doing this for Roy.”
Her words were so unnecessary he couldn’t help but laugh. “And all this time I thought it was my irresistible charm. You sure do know how to cut a man down to size.”
She looked vaguely troubled by his comment. “I got no need of a man.”
“I ain’t offering to marry you.”
“That’s not what I meant. I meant I don’t need a man to escort me to the recitation.”
“I still ain’t offering.” He had been alone for a long time. Preferred it that way.
They reached the schoolroom that apparently served as home to the literary society and crowded inside with the others. All the windows had been shoved up and the doors at both ends propped open to let in air. Still, the place was like an oven ready for baking bread. Lucy led him to a desk near the front and they crowded in side by side. It was a tight squeeze. He noted how nicely she fit at his side, her head inches above his shoulder so every time he turned her way he could study how straight and fine her nose was. He could admire the color of her hair again and see how it shone in the slanting light from the open door. He squeezed his hands together to keep from touching her hair, aching to know if it felt as silky as it looked. He realized he still wore his hat and snatched it off to scrunch it to his lap.
Again he marveled that a body as pretty and as sweet-smelling as Lucy’s—like a field of clover in full bloom—could house a heart of coal. He tightened his mouth. He’d endure her pressed to his side, tolerate how nice she smelled and ignore the way her hair begged to be touched all for the sake of finding a chance to persuade her to show some human decency and visit her father.
Thankfully, it was soon time for the program to begin and he could concentrate on the proceedings.
A man with a handlebar moustache stood and welcomed everyone. And then the recitations began. Wade laughed at the story of a man searching for his horse and running into all sorts of calamities. His amusement grew by leaps and bounds as he met Lucy’s laughing eyes. He forced his attention back to the front of the room as a frail lady recited two Psalms. A young girl did a sweet poem of hope and love. Then Lucy rose. She fairly glowed as she began to speak, putting her heart into every word.
Wade had heard the poem before and knew what to expect, but enjoyed it just as much as the others who alternated between laughter and tears.
Lucy returned to her place at his side amidst clapping, cheering and shouts of “Bully for you, Lucy gal.” Twin roses bloomed on her cheeks. She gave Wade a look he could only interpret as triumphant.
For a moment, he couldn’t take his eyes off her then he forced himself to remember why he was here and what she was like beneath all that charm and good humor.
Three more recitations and the program ended. Wade bolted to his feet, his chest tight with a nameless anxiety. He had to get Lucy alone so he could talk to her, explain why it was so necessary to make the trek to the ranch.
But before his muddled brain could devise a plan, a black-clad woman called for their attention. “Tea and cake will be served outside. Ten cents each. Remember the money all goes to buying a bell for our church.”
“Let’s go.” Lucy grabbed his arm. “I want to get a piece of Mrs. Adam’s chocolate cake.”
