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His breath warmed her cheeks, filling her with a curious sense of longing.
She pushed away the idea. Only thing she longed for was her self-sufficiency. Life was meant to be lived, enjoyed, embraced, not spent clasping hopeless dreams based on empty promises from a man.
She would not be like her mother.
Wade still leaned close, his gaze warm as sun flashing on a quiet lake, his expression curiously watchful, as if wanting something from her.
She shifted away, turned to gather the remnants of their lunch into the basket. She knew what he wanted—for her to visit her father. But she wouldn’t do it. She’d already given her father too many chances, wasted too many hopes and dreams on him.
Lawrence, a young man who seemed to escort a different gal to the park every week, picked up his guitar and began to pluck out a tune. He had a liking for popular ballads, which made him a hit with both sexes. He began to sing “Oh! Susanna.” Soon, more young people crowded around, joining their voices to his as he went from one popular tune to another.
Lucy loved the songs and joined right in. She didn’t have to look directly at Wade to see he wasn’t singing. At first she thought he didn’t know the newer songs, but even when they sang some old hymns he didn’t join. She tried to remember if he’d sung at church, but she’d been too busy mentally kicking herself for agreeing to spend the afternoon with him to pay attention.
She focused on the next song, and tried not to think of Wade sitting there quietly. He shifted, stretched out his legs, and leaned back on his right elbow. Was he bored? Restless? Through some perverse idea that God wanted her to entertain this stranger, she’d volunteered her afternoon. If Wade chose to be not entertained by the music, that wasn’t her problem. She’d done all that could be expected of her.
He sat up straight and pulled his knees to his chin. She didn’t miss how he shuffled about so he could stare at her.
“An angel wouldn’t stare,” she whispered.
“You’ve known a few, have you?”
“No. But I know they wouldn’t.”
“Well, see, I’m not so sure. I think they watch us all the time.”
She rolled her eyes to signify how silly she considered this conversation.
“Let’s go for a walk.” He bounced to his feet and held out a hand before she could refuse. She automatically let him pull her to her feet but withdrew from his grasp before they had gone two steps.
They headed past Mr. and Mrs. Nolan. Mrs. Nolan was writing a letter. Mr. Nolan was lying in the shade, his hat pulled over his eyes.
Lucy waited until they were far enough away from the music to be able to converse easily before she spoke. “I noticed you didn’t sing.”
“If you heard me you’d know for sure I was no angel.” His tone carried a hint of self-mockery. “Cowboys normally sing to the cattle at night to calm them. I tried it once. The cows all signed a petition requesting I stop.”
She laughed at the idea of cows signing a piece of paper. “Did they read it for you, too?”
“Read it myself but the head cow stepped on my foot to emphasize the point.” He paused to rub at the toe of his boot as if his foot still hurt.
She laughed harder at his silliness. “It can’t be that bad.”
“Oh, yes it can.”
Now she wanted nothing more than to hear and judge for herself. “Show me.”
He held up his hands as if warning her. “I don’t want the afternoon to end on a sour note. Or a flat one.”
“You think I’d run home if I heard you sing?”
“I know you would, with your ears covered, begging me to stop.”
He kept a deadpan expression so she couldn’t know for sure how serious he was but she couldn’t believe he meant all he said.
She held a hand up as if swearing honesty before a court of law. “I vow I would not run away if you sang.”
Their gazes locked and for one still moment, nothing existed apart from the two of them and the promise of something exciting between them.
“Would you run for some other reason?” His words were low and soft, teasing.
She tried to find an answer to his question. “I can’t say.” At that moment, she could think of nothing that would send her running. Not when her heart had developed a sudden ache to know more about him.
He took her hand.
She let him.
They reached the edge of the park but didn’t turn around. Instead, they crossed the street, walked the half block to the edge of town and continued along the dusty road bordered by yellowed grass swaying in the breeze.
“This country is as flat as pie dough rolled out,” he said.
“Great for farming, they say. Best number one hard wheat grown right here. Much of it on bonanza farms. Can you imagine one farm with thousands of acres under crop? I’d like to see that some day.” Why was she running over at the mouth about farming? Only thing she knew about it was what she overheard at the dining room where some of the big landowners met with bankers and investors to discuss things.
Wade made a dismissive noise. “Farming is okay. But for real pretty scenery you should see ranching country. When I see the hills and trees and vast stretches of grass, I just want to put down roots like a big old cottonwood tree and never leave.”
Lucy turned to stare at him. “I never knew a cowboy who wanted to settle down.”
Wade gave an embarrassed grin and shrugged. “Never thought about it like that but now you mention it, the idea sounds kind of nice. But the ranch I mean belongs to your father.”
She pulled her hand from his grasp.
“Lucy, he’s sick. Near death. All you have to do is visit him. How hard can that be?”
She backed away with every word he uttered. Her eyes felt overheated, the air too heavy to breathe. “I will never visit him.”
“Why not?”
“Because when my mother died I decided I would no longer allow him any part of my life. He hurt her time and again with empty promises. I won’t let him do the same thing to me.”
“Just a little visit.”
“Never.”
Wade’s jaw muscles flexed. “He’s very sick.”
“I’m sorry.” She headed back to town like she was trying to outrun a thunderstorm.
He easily caught up to her. “I’ll not leave until you change your mind.”
“It will never happen.” She mentally kicked herself all the way back to the dining room and slipped into her room. How many times had she vowed not to let her heart yearn for any man—not her father, and certainly not a run-of-the-mill cowboy? She wouldn’t let herself care if the King of Spain showed up to court her. No. Her heart belonged to no one. Ever. She’d witnessed the incredible pain and suffering in her mother’s life and would have no part of it.
Yet she’d let her conscience, her duty, the warm sun and a pair of bright blue eyes momentarily make her forget.
Well, not again. Besides, Wade was only spending time with her in hopes of talking her into visiting her father. Wade said he was sick, dying even. But he’d been dead to her for years so what did it matter? Any little pang of remorse she felt was only for what she had once wanted.
And never had.
Chapter Three
Wade alternately stared at the ashes of his campfire and the dusty toes of his boots. Three days. Three long days he’d hung about trying to convince Lucy to do her duty as a daughter and a decent human being and visit her father before he died.
Wade had haunted the dining room waiting for opportunities to talk to Lucy until Harry had stomped out with a spoon the size of a bucket hanging from his ham-hock fists and ordered him to leave Lucy alone.
Wade had no desire to come to blows with the larger man or any of his primitive kitchen utensils, so he’d waited for an opportunity to speak to Lucy away from the eagle eyes of Harry.
He’d found such opportunity when he watched her and Roy settle on a rough plank bench in the shade of the livery stable. He followed at a distance, undetected, and slipped around the barn until he could listen and watch unobserved. It took him a moment to realize Lucy and Roy were bent over a book, their heads almost touching as Lucy taught the boy to read.
Huh. Wade sank back on his heels. Why would she spend that much time with Roy yet refuse to visit Scout—her own flesh and blood?
He moseyed around the corner and confronted the pair.
Roy glowered at him. “She don’t want to see you. Thought she made that plain.”
Wade wanted to laugh at the boy’s belligerence. He posed no threat, carried no oversize kitchen spoon but he was every bit as protective of Lucy as Harry was. Having no desire to mock the boy’s spirit, Wade kept his face expressionless. “I think she owes me a chance to explain.”
Roy jumped to his feet, fists curled at his side and donned a scowl fit to curdle Wade’s supper.
Lucy rose to Roy’s side and dropped an arm across the boy’s shoulders. “Let it be, Roy. I can defend myself.” The way she stuck out her chin and gave Wade a look fit to set his hair on fire made him squirm.
“No need to get all prickly around me. I mean no harm.”
“Just going to make a nuisance of yourself because you won’t take no for an answer.”
He thought some on that. Finally, he let out a long-suffering sigh. “I guess there’s no point in hanging around any longer. ’Sides, I’d like to see Scout before he passes. You’ll find me camped in that piddly patch of trees on the other side of town if you change your mind or decide you want to hear why I think the man deserves a visit from you.” He purposely waited, hoping she’d be curious to know why he owed the man this, but she just stared.
“Fine.” He spun around and marched away without a backward look, without saying all the hot words that pushed at the top of his head. The woman was a lost cause. Too bad for Scout, but perhaps it was best the man yearn after a girl he remembered as sweet and loving rather than face the truth about her coldheartedness.
He’d ride out first light. Or maybe he’d endure a train ride as he’d planned to do when he figured to have Lucy with him. He wanted to make it back in time to bid Scout farewell.
Though he hated to face the man and admit he’d failed to get Lucy to accompany him.
Even though he’d prayed. Guess a man couldn’t expect God to jump to do his bidding. Being rescued by prayer once was more than most ever experienced and he would never forget the occasion, nor how it had made his faith in God grow like desert flowers after rain.
It was an experience that meant a lot to him. He might have shared the details with Lucy in the hopes it would convince her to visit Scout.
God, I know I ain’t got the right to ask for more than what You’ve already given, but if You could do something to prod Lucy to consider allowing Scout to see her once more before he dies…
He returned to his campsite and settled back against one of the puny trees. He’d wait until morning to leave. Give Lucy a chance to reconsider. Give God a chance to do something to persuade her.
Dusk turned the street gray and darkened the shadows along the buildings to indigo. Grasshoppers and crickets sought to outdo each other in their creaky nightly chorus. Birds settled in for the night, calling to each other one last time.
Lucy and Roy leaned against the livery stable wall. The worn wood hoarded the heat of the day and baked their backs, but they were too content to move. She’d been reluctant to return to her solitary room after the way Wade had stalked off, anger evident in every step. Her heart clenched. Seems Wade had found friendship, perhaps belonging, maybe even a home with her father—something she had wanted most of her life. But her wanting had brought her nothing but disappointment and pain. She would not let Wade’s insistence and pleading trick her into walking headlong into a repeat of those emotions.
She should return to her room. If Harry and Hettie knew she was out alone after dark they would both scold her. But she wasn’t exactly alone. Roy had no place to go but the corner of the loft where he slept, so he willingly kept her company.
They had no need to talk but sat in companionable silence listening to the night and bits of conversation floating on the still air.
A harsher, louder sound caused them both to jolt upright.
“It’s just the door into the barn,” Lucy said.
Angry voices rose and fell. She made out a few words. “Cheat.” “Pay back.”
Curious as to what it was about, Lucy looked around, saw a tiny circle of yellow light and pressed her eye to the hole in the wall. Roy found another spot. From her spy hole Lucy got a clear view of Smitty. She resisted the urge to spit. Smitty was a scoundrel and the town could well do without him. He bullied and threatened his way around, acting like he owned the town and its inhabitants. He spent time in jail on a semiregular basis for minor offenses. Too bad someone couldn’t prove one of the many bigger things they suspected him of.
Another man faced Smitty, someone Lucy had seen only a time or two. She’d noticed the man had eyes that seemed to see everything, yet reveal nothing. But he sure looked scared right now. He held his hands out toward Smitty.
“I got no gun.”
That’s when Lucy saw that Smitty held a pistol aimed straight at the other man’s heart.
Her breath stalled halfway to her lungs and she clawed for Roy’s hand but found nothing but raw, slivered boards. She should leave. Run as far and fast as she could but she seemed tacked to the wall watching the two men, their forms wavering uncertainly in the flickering lamplight.
Smitty’s teeth gleamed in a sneer. “Dead men tell no tales.” Light flared from the end of his pistol and the noise of a gunshot rattled against the walls.
The second man clutched at his chest. He stared at his blood-covered hands, then gave Smitty a look of surprise before he pitched to the ground.
“Is he dead?” Roy whispered.
Smitty, who had leaned over to put a second gun in the fallen man’s hand, glanced toward them.
“Shh.” Lucy didn’t dare move for fear of giving away their presence.
Smitty stepped back, turned to a third man that Lucy hadn’t seen until this point. She recognized him, too. Smitty’s half-brained sidekick, Louie. The man wore a perpetual smile that revealed a whole lot more meanness than humor.
Smitty spoke to the man and nodded toward Lucy and Roy’s position. Louie jerked his head in compliance and strode for the door.
Lucy’s blood burned through her body. “They know we’re here.” She turned, grabbed Roy’s hand in a death grip, held her skirts with her other hand and ran like her life depended on it, which she was quite sure it did. They didn’t stop until they crossed behind the blacksmith shop where they pressed to the wall. Lucy held her breath hoping they hadn’t been spotted. She hoped they were invisible. She prayed the men might think they’d been mistaken in thinking someone had seen them.
“Who’s there?” Louie called.
Lucy clutched at Roy’s hand knowing he was as scared as she.
“Maybe I seen a kid and maybe someone else. Thought it was a woman.”
Lucy’s heart rattled against her ribs. Please, God, let them think they made a mistake.
“It’s that kid who sleeps here,” Smitty grumbled. “And I know who the girl is. Only one person spends any time with the kid. Never mind them now. We know where to find them. We’ll get you later,” he called.
Lucy knew he meant the words for them just as surely as she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to do to them the same thing he’d done to that man in the barn.
