Dakota Cowboy

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.”

Seemed everyone had the same idea. A stampede tried to squeeze out the door, pushing Lucy tight to Wade’s side. He discovered she not only fit like they were meant for each other, but that it was going to be nearly impossible to keep his thoughts on the purpose of his visit. He grunted as someone elbowed him. “Trouble with being at the front is you’re the tail going out,” he murmured.

Lucy groaned. “I know all that chocolate cake will be gone.”

A young man in a suit and tie, with a complexion the color of biscuit dough, allowed himself to be jostled against Lucy. Wade felt her stiffen, knew she didn’t appreciate the boldness of this dandified man. Wade edged forward just enough to push the man away. And then they were through the door, in the open where a person could breathe without inhaling someone else’s air. He grabbed Lucy’s elbow and hustled her to the table. ’Course he didn’t have to do much hustling. He was hard-pressed to keep up to her as she made the hundred-yard dash to the table covered with a selection of cakes. He dropped twenty cents into the plate and got two cups of tea in exchange.

“Look, there’s a piece left.” She dived for it and emerged crowing with triumph. A thought seemed to choke her pleasure. She glanced from the cake to Wade. Doubt clouded her face. “I could…”

She was considering giving up her cake after wrestling it from the kid behind her who now glared daggers at her. “You’d never forgive me.” He did not need her to hold a grudge over some cake. And to prove his point, he scooped up a large piece of spice cake with brown sugar icing, followed her away from the table to one of the benches and sat down.

Lucy ate the cake like it was a matter of life and death. She licked her fingers. Barely resisted licking the plate. He was so fascinated with her enthusiasm he forgot to test his own piece of cake.

She must have seen the wonder in his expression. “You have no idea how delicious it is.”

“Was.”

She eyed her plate.

“You ate the whole thing.”

“I offered it to you.”

“Yup.” He took a bite of his own selection. “This ain’t half bad either.”

“Like comparing beans and peaches. Both good but—” She shrugged, letting him know he got the beans but she wasn’t a bit regretful.

He mused about how best to bring up the topic of the ranch without mentioning her father. “I heard that poem before. My ma used to work in a house where they had literary gatherings. She loved that poem. Guess that’s why I like it.”

“You mean the poem I recited?” She grinned. “Or the one about chasing the horse?”

Far as he was concerned, only one poem stood out as being worthy of mention. “Yours. It made me miss her.”

“Where is she?”

“Died some years ago.”

“I’m sorry. My ma is dead, too.”

Another thing Scout neglected to tell him. “I guess you never stop missing your ma.” Though he’d started missing his ma long before she died. Once she started working for the Collins family after Pa’s untimely death, she’d never had time for him.

Lucy nodded. “I don’t expect I’ll ever forget my ma or the lessons I learned from her.”

He wanted to talk to her, ask her about her mother, tell her about the ranch but a continual string of people came by to say howdy-do to Lucy. She laughed and joked with them all. She had an easy way about her, as if life fit her well.

Someone came by and picked up the empty cups and plates.

Lucy sprang to her feet. “I could of done that. I’ll help with the dishes.”

The lady, the same black-garbed woman who had announced the refreshments, tittered and batted her eyes at Wade. “No, no, dear. You enjoy your beau.”

“My beau?” Lucy sputtered so hard Wade whacked her between the shoulder blades. True, he did so a little harder than necessary but the way she had said beau, as if he had as much appeal as a seven-day rash, kind of rubbed him the wrong way. He could be her beau if he wanted.

She stopped sputtering and shifted away from his patting, giving him a look fit to fry his brain.

“Wouldn’t want you to choke to death,” he said.

“I was in more danger of having a rib broke than choking.” She moved with the determination of a filly eager for freedom. “I’m leaving now.”

She didn’t need to go away in a huff. He hadn’t patted her that hard. He glanced around and realized the yard was emptying out. Lucy was already headed for the gate. Did she think to leave him standing in the middle of a vacant pen? He charged after her. “I’ll see you home.”

“I know the way. Probably better than you.”

“I might be nothing but a rough, tough cowboy, but I’m gentleman enough to see a lady home.”

“Perhaps you ought to go find yourself a lady, then.”

He laughed. “You’ll do.”

She stopped so sharp he ploughed into her, staggered to keep his balance and steady her, too.

She spun about.

He winced back at the fiery light in her eyes. Had he said something offensive?

“I’ll do? I’ll do?” Her voice rose with every word.

“You don’t think so?” How could she object to that? He’d meant it as admiration.

She clamped her lips together and continued down the street. Wade lifted his hands in confusion. Give him cows or horses any day over womenfolk. Who could understand them?

She stopped in front of the Dry Creek dining room. “This is where we part ways.”

“You’re going back to work?”

“No. I’m going to bed.”

“In the dining room?”

She rolled her eyes. “I have a room in the back.” She squinted at him as if suspecting shenanigans from him. “Right next to the room where Harry and Hettie sleep.”

He grinned. “I had no plan to search out your sleeping quarters.”

Her cheeks reddened. “I didn’t suggest you did.”

He kind of liked seeing her flustered. He shepherded his thoughts back to the reason he had looked her up. “I only want one thing from you.”

She opened the door and stepped inside. “Good night.” The door closed.

He raised his voice. “Don’t you want to know why it’s so important?”

Her muffled voice came through the wood. “There aren’t enough words in the world to make me change my mind.”

He stared at the closed door for some time before he whistled for the patient Two Bit and rode to his camp. A man with an ounce of sense would admit defeat and ride away, but he had made himself a promise to pay back Scout’s kindness by bringing his daughter to visit. He wasn’t about to give up. Lucy needed some persuading was all. And he was a patient man. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to be too patient. He’d like to get back in time to see Scout before his friend departed this life.

He wondered how Scout was doing. Wade had arranged for an old cowboy friend to stay with Scout when he’d left to find Lucy. But Wade didn’t figure Scout had many days left in him. He needed to hurry along Lucy’s change of mind. He again prayed—a still unfamiliar activity. God, help me accomplish the task I’ve chosen.

Lucy shut her bedroom door and began to prepare for bed.

She didn’t want to know anything more about her father. She’d spent too many pointless years waiting and hoping for him to do more than flit in and out of her life. She’d seen far too clearly how her mother had pined after a man who had made promises he never kept. After her mother died, still hoping for her father to make good on his promises, Lucy had sworn never to need or want anything more from her father. Nothing Wade could say or do would change that.

She sat cross-legged on her bed and opened her Bible. It had been her mother’s. In the front were the family history pages. Lucy stared at them. Her name and birth date entered by her mother. Her mother’s death in Lucy’s handwriting. The births and dates of death of her mother’s parents and her mother’s brother who had died when he was only three months old. She turned to the conspicuously empty page for registering marriages. No marriage between her parents had ever been entered because her father failed to marry her mother and make an honest woman out of her, despite his many promises to do so.

Lucy sighed. It was old news. She no longer cared. Turning the pages carefully, she paused at the bookmark and read a chapter before gently replacing the Bible in its place of honor on her bedside table. She said her prayers as she’d done from her earliest remembrance. She knew—because her mother told her often—there had been a time when their lives didn’t include churchgoing, Bible reading and prayer. A time when her mother had been a rebel and a run away. But she thankfully did not recall that period. Her father was part of her mother’s BC time—Before Christ—and Lucy did not want any share of it.

She lay staring at the narrow window high in the wall opposite her bed. Often she wished she could see outside without standing on her tiptoes, but Harry and Hettie were more than generous to provide her a room. She had only to think about Roy to realize her life without family might be a whole lot worse.

Thinking of Roy brought her thoughts round to Wade. No doubt after her rude dismissal he’d ridden out for wherever it was he headed. Made no difference to her. He was like a hundred other cowboys she saw.

Only—she regretfully admitted—no other cowboy had insisted on accompanying her to a recitation, nor admitted bold-faced how he missed his ma and her favorite poem.

She would doubtless never see him again and that, she told herself, was a good thing.

The next day was Sunday and Lucy headed out to church. Hettie and Harry had never asked her to work on Sunday. They had another gal come in to handle the Sunday crowd.

As she sat enjoying the organ music before the service began, someone slipped into the pew beside her. Wade!

She couldn’t tell him to move along—not in church. Not that she didn’t want to. But she feared she would incur the wrath of God if she acted on her unkind thoughts, so she gave him a smile that went no further than the corners of her mouth. Indeed, her lips said, “Good morning.” But her eyes said something entirely different.

“Nice to see you at church,” he whispered.

“You thought me a heathen, did you?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Now why would you think such a thing?”

Why, indeed? But her conscience smote her. She’d been rude and dismissive. And him being a stranger in town. Hadn’t the Lord commanded them to be careful to entertain strangers? A grin filled her mouth as she thought of the rest of the verse—entertaining angels unawares. She had her doubts about Wade being any sort of an angel.

“Care to share the cause of your amusement?” he whispered as the pews filled up around them.

She couldn’t restrain herself and told him about the verse. She then added, “It doesn’t say what those who aren’t angels turn out to be.”

He managed to look sad even though his eyes shone with amusement. “I would not expect anyone to consider me an angel. But I guess that means you’re obligated to entertain me this afternoon.”

Obligated?

Her mind said no—she wanted nothing to do with a cowboy who knew her father and expected she would be glad to pay him a visit.

Her heart said otherwise. Obligation, cowboy, father—none of it mattered. The idea of an afternoon in this man’s company sounded fine.

Her mouth said, “I guess I’m obligated.”

He grinned. “I guess I am, too. No cowboy in his right mind would turn down such a generous invitation.”

Knowing he realized as much as she that it had not been one bit generous, they both laughed. Seems he didn’t mind the obligation any more than she, which was somehow all wrong. This man had made his intention perfectly clear—he only cared about spending time with her in order to persuade her to visit her father.

Just as she’d made it clear as a spring morning she wouldn’t be persuaded. So, what harm was there in spending a sunny afternoon with him? It wasn’t as if she was about to let this man, or any man, share anything but fragments of time. She had no need nor desire to give a man the right to twist her life into disarray as her father had done to her mother.

And herself.

She managed to postpone how she would deal with the afternoon until the service was over and she turned to see Wade grinning at her, his eyes dancing with amusement. She got the feeling he knew she’d boxed herself into a tight corner and he was enjoying her discomfort far too much for her liking.

She lifted her head. This was nothing she couldn’t handle. “Let’s get some lunch from the dining room.” Hettie would willingly give them a portable lunch. Lucy thought she’d take him to the park where the young people tended to congregate on Sunday afternoons. Safety in numbers.

When they arrived at the dining room and she told Hettie what she wanted, the woman practically crowed. “Off to courting corner, are you?”

Lucy gave her a look of devout distaste, grateful Wade had waited outside, out of hearing distance. “I’m not interested in courting, only in having lots of people around so I don’t have to personally amuse him.”

Hettie chortled. “I suppose that’s why all the other young people go there, too?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Now, don’t get all prickly with me, Lucy gal. I recall a time or two you’ve been there with some anxious young man.”

“I don’t need a man.”

“So you say. You’ll change your mind soon enough when the right one comes along.” She handed Lucy a basket full of food. “Now, off you go. Have fun. Who knows? This might be the right one.”

Lucy thanked Hettie and waited until she was almost out the door to add, “Not in a million years.” She’d never trust her happiness and future to any man.

Thanks to Hettie’s comments, she felt conspicuous as she led Wade to the park where she was certain everyone she met had the same sly look in their eyes, and similar thoughts in their heads.

At least Wade had no idea how people viewed a harmless little jaunt to the park.

She saw a spot under a sprawling group of trees where several others she knew gathered. Mr. and Mrs. Nolan sat by themselves on a nearby bench. With three daughters of courting age, they usually spent the afternoon at the park, providing proper supervision.

“Over there.” Lucy pointed toward the group.

“They your friends?” Wade looked toward a more secluded spot where an umbrella of branches provided an alarming amount of privacy. “It’s quieter over there.”

“They’ll be glad to let us join them.” She didn’t give him a chance to say yea or nay. She had no intention of being shepherded to a place where they would be alone, knowing he would likely consider it an opportunity to tell her how she ought to visit her father. She led him to her choice of location and introduced him to the group—most of whom had been at church earlier. After a round of greetings, she found a roomy spot and allowed Wade to spread the blanket Hettie had put in the basket.

The afternoon heat made everyone mellow. Lucy was glad no one prodded her with questions about Wade. She didn’t want to talk about him. She didn’t want to explain who he was, what he was doing here.

Hettie had packed fried chicken and fresh buns for Lucy, which they’d both enjoyed. Lucy took out a plate of cookies and offered it to Wade.

He took one. “I see there are certain advantages to working in a dining room.” He slanted an amused look toward the next couple who’d had only syrup sandwiches.

“I don’t think they noticed.” It was the youngest Nolan girl and a farm boy.

“If they did, they didn’t seem to care.” Wade leaned close. “I think they’re more interested in their sparking.”

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.