Seventeen

Glory had to set some rules. Especially since the man spent every waking moment thinking up new ways to bother her.

August fireflies darted close to her head, mere specks against the darkness. Pretend everything was fine. Whatever she did, she couldn’t afford to stumble over a rock, a sprig of dead grass, or step into a gopher hole. Luke would not use her problem to excuse his behavior.

She forced every ounce of concentration on the ground’s shadows. And tried not to think of the man beside her.

It didn’t take her memory’s gentle prodding to recall how casually he’d draped Soldier’s reins over one arm and how his saunter emphasized the carefree manner about him. Locked in a battle to preserve both her dignity and self-respect, she jumped when he suddenly burst into a whistle.

“Is that the only music you know?”

Luke stopped. “Does it irritate you?”

Everything about Luke McClain pestered her. Of a surety, his presence held the number one spot. Had she shown even a shred of inclination toward forgetting, the tenderness of his touch rekindled the fire. In another lifetime she could reach for what he offered.

“I can’t see you have anything to be that pleased about.”

“Depends.”

He broke into a more lighthearted song and this time hummed instead.

Familiar agony pierced her soul. The melody was one her father used to sing while he did his chores. But that seemed eons ago…

When she didn’t know about injustice or that joyous times could end in the blink of an eye.

When she clutched her childhood and entertained thoughts of being a lady.

And when she didn’t know the bittersweet pain of true love and realize it came with a price.

“What’d I do now?”

“Papa…sang that.”

“Didn’t mean to dredge up sad memories. Have you gotten word from him lately?”

“I expect a letter any day informing us of his passing.” She swallowed hard.

“Just tell me what and I’ll do something.”

“You can’t! Stay out of our business.”

A dozen more steps to the barn and she’d make it. Full of confidence, she advanced—and slammed into the corral fence post.

Darn, she’d forgotten the corner stuck out that far.

“Watch it, darlin’.” Luke caught her before she landed in the dirt.

For a brief second, she let him hold her fast. A safe warmth engulfed her. So wonderful to rest. No need to struggle against the helpless fight. Locked in familiar arms, she could let go and relax for a moment.

“Let me help you,” he murmured into her hair.

His tortured voice was strange to hear. No mistaking his message though. She steeled herself, retreating behind the armor that kept out hurt and betrayal.

“Help?” She pushed him away. “You’ve butted in enough.”

“A little snippy, aren’t you? What’ve I done?”

“Nothing.” And everything. Rubbing her arms still aching for his embrace, she yanked open the barn door.

“Hey, what does that mean?”

Glory fumbled for the lantern that always hung from the nail inside. The darkness confused her memory.

“I’ll do it.”

Luke’s arm grazed her breast as he reached past.

A sharp intake broke the silence. The sound didn’t come from her though, for no air filled her lungs. Yearning and need had stolen the ability.

A match struck and the smell of sulfur drifted up her nose. She heard the globe slide into place. Strange how the dull glow of the lantern hid behind a thick veil.

“Soldier, let’s get to bed,” Luke said.

Icy fear gripped. How would she get back to the house alone? Territory she once knew like the back of her hand now became an awkward maze. Hope’s milk bucket created a racket when Glory knocked it off Bessie’s stall.

“You trying to wake the dead?”

Luke’s quiet approach added to her fluster. Sulfur and shaving soap blended together. With an arm firmly about her waist, he guided her.

“Sit. And don’t argue.”

Glory found herself lowered. A bench creaked under their weight.

“Now, what in Sam Hill is going on?”

The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Mr. Meddler could take a few shyness lessons. And she could take a page from Grandma Day’s book: Girl, the best people in our lives are like the best lessons—especially the ones we fight tooth and nail against knowing. Give ’em a chance and you won’t be sorry. Too bad Grandma Day never met McClain. His leg lying against her knee flung her once again onto the treacherous path she sought to escape.

“Nothing anyone can fix.” Glory tried to regain control.

He pulled her face around. With her trembling lip anchored between her teeth, she could barely make out the features that filled her dreams.

“Not what I’m asking, lady. How bad is your sight?”

“I’ve had better days.” She took a tremulous breath.

“You speak to Dalton about it?” The strain in his voice relayed anger at having to mention the doctor’s name.

“No.”

“Maybe some spectacles—”

“You don’t understand, McClain. Nothing can change what’s happening to me. Not one stinking thing.” She ground out the painful words she’d dared not tell anyone, not even herself.

“Maybe if you try.”

And maybe pigs could fly if she wished hard enough. Every instinct screamed permanence. She would have to learn to live in a colorless, sightless world. Somehow. Someway.

“Why are you fit to be tied? Why at me?”

She clenched her fists. “I’ll not be helpless like my mother. I can’t depend on anyone but me. You got that?”

“I haven’t—”

“A stranger from God knows where, you come in here and take over our lives to suit your fancy. Doesn’t matter what we want. Oh, no. It’s got to be done Luke McClain’s way. We’re just a bunch of helpless females with half a brain between us. Don’t know how we survived all these years before you rode in on your trusty steed to rescue us.” She paused to catch her breath.

“So—I’ve done something wrong?”

“And then…and then when the thrill is gone, you’ll leave just like everyone else,” she finished in a breathless rush, suppressing the sob that lurked in her throat.

He’d leave and take a piece of her with him.

“That’s what’s bothering you?”

“Hellfire and damnation, yes!”

Among a few hundred other things in the heart department.

“Marrying me would solve most everything. I’ll take your burden in the wink of an eye. Let me.”

“Why would you want this? Tell me why.” A flicker of hope was the only thing that kept her rooted to the bench. Three words held the power to change her mind.

The tiny flicker went out in the silence that spun between them. She stiffened. He’d have to speak the truth aloud.

“Just say it.”

A heavy sigh came while he apparently searched for a tactful reply. “Because you have no one, dammit!”

“A bit of candor at least. I see it clearly now. Out of gratitude for saving our home you thought I’d fall helplessly at your feet. Go ply your attentions on another. I’m no damsel in distress in need of saving.”

“Don’t know where you get these crazy notions, but you’ll not make me your whipping boy.”

The bench tipped when he stood. She grasped for something, not expecting to encounter his hand. She rose and jerked loose.

“I bid you good night, sir.”

Luke felt the cool sting of her dismissal. Even so, he couldn’t leave her to find the way back to the house by herself. Despite the pain her words brought, he moved silently in her footsteps. He cursed the cruel hand that would rob such a vital woman. She didn’t know it, but she’d never be dependent on anyone. Still, he could understand the nature of the beast. Such a fear lodged in his throat, choking the life from him each time he happened to brush the tin star in his pocket.

Night swallowed her proud carriage when she edged from the barn. He moved swiftly, close enough to reach out.

In the next instant, a panther’s cry rent the air. Glory bolted. Damn! His blood froze. Did she know she ran away from safety, not toward it?

Before he could reach her, she sprawled. Crumpled in a heap, she beat her fists on the drought-riddled soil. He knelt and cradled her. This time she accepted his comfort.

“It’ll be all right. I’m here.” He had to squeeze the words past the vise hindering his air passage.

“Luke, I’m scared. I don’t know what to do.”

“Shh. I’ll help you figure it out. Just—”

“Accept your proposal?” She stiffened. “I won’t be bought with thirty pieces of silver.”

“I don’t know where you get these loco ideas.” He didn’t stop her when she shoved him aside and struggled to her feet. “But I’m going to get you safely inside the house. After that…”

Another panther scream prevented further objecting. She meekly let him take her arm.

At the door, he lifted her hand. Opening the tight fist, he kissed the palm. “I’m not the enemy. Promise me you’ll tell your family. If not me, let someone else help.”

He released her hand and turned.

“Luke?”

He paused in midstep. “I’m here.”

“Thank you for the gifts…and for keeping me safe.”

“It’s because I care.” More than she’d ever know. He brushed her cheek with a light fingertip. “Good night, m’lady.”

The lump in his windpipe grew as she felt along the walls to her room. This was a different hurt from any he’d ever suffered. More than when he watched his mother gasp for the last time. Glory went through the motions, yet she’d already resigned herself to a life of the damned.

He recognized that fact in her eyes. He’d seen that same resignation in others before her. And there wasn’t a blessed thing he could do. She viewed marriage to him as something more distasteful than sucking a rotten egg.

Softly, he eased the door shut and stared up at the starlit sky. Leaving was the only thing left. But, before he rode off, never to look back, he had one other bit of business.

Clenching his jaw, he jammed his fists in his pockets and walked toward the barn.

* * *

“Soldier’s gone and so is Mr. Luke,” Patience reported the following morning as though she was the town crier. “What’s the rope doing stretched from our back door to the barn? And why are dead squirrels on our porch?”

Oh dear, food charity again. Always happened when Luke left. But rope?

Glory carefully reached for the handle of milk pitcher, praying she didn’t misjudge the distance. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

A chair scooted on the wood floor.

“Come here,” Hope called. “You’ve got to see this.”

If only Glory could make out anything other than shadows. The light of day revealed in full measure the face of horror she’d tried to ignore the last two months. Having disaster loom on the horizon differed greatly from having it knock you down and rub your face in it.

Her vision would not return.

Ever. She knew this to be true.

How much longer could she hope to hide her blindness? She pushed back her chair. Eight steps to the faint blurs at the kitchen door? Or ten? She took a deep breath and began counting off each one. Upon six, she collided with flesh and blood.

“Ow, watch it, Glory. Didn’t you see me?” Patience whined.

“Guess I simply wanted to hear you complain, Squirt.”

“You’re just trying to be mean ’cause I found your private book by mistake.”

“Oh, honey.” Glory sighed.

The slamming screen announced baby sis’s departure.

“What private book?” Hope moved briskly about the kitchen, readying for the day.

Funny how a few hours could change a person’s entire life. What had been of extreme importance yesterday now seemed small and petty in comparison.

“My writing journal that I’d missed for the last week and a half. Quite mysterious how it fell into Squirt’s possession. What did you want to show me?”

“Can’t you see? The rope. Wonder who would’ve done such a thing. Or to leave a bunch of squirrels by our door.”

Glory could hazard a guess.

“Come sit down. I have something I need to tell you. Quick, before Chatterbox comes back.”

Glory followed the blurry figure to the table and fumbled into her seat.

“Is it Papa? Have you—”

“No, Hope, it’s me. I’ve tried to shield everyone from the truth, but now you must know.”

“What’s wrong?”

Dread filled her heart. She hated bringing more troubling news on the ones she loved. They already had a mess load of disappointment to cope with.

“Promise you won’t breathe a word of this to Patience or Mama yet. Swear?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I need someone’s help and I pick you. We’ll tell them when the time comes.” Her matter-of-fact tone belied the churning that railed against fate.

“All right. I’ll keep your secret if you say I must.”

Before she lost courage, she bared the terrible reality.

“I can’t distinguish anything beyond shadowy blurs,” she finished. “And those will soon vanish too, I’m afraid.”

Glory expected the silence. What she had thrown on her sister would change each of their lives in untold ways. Only in the days ahead could they realize the full magnitude.

Hope’s voice trembled. “There are no words. What can I say? Except…”

Glory found solace in Hope’s embrace. She touched her sister’s face, detecting proof of her deep caring. Some things a person didn’t have to see to know.

“I’m so sorry. I love you, Glory.”

She cleared her throat. “I love you too.”

“Now the tether rope makes sense. Mr. McClain knows.”

“He found out last night.”

“What did he advise? Did he offer…?”

That he’d give whatever she required—except his love.

“He thinks marrying him will set everything right.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“It might be if I didn’t object to being bought for eighty-one dollars and fifty-seven cents. My self-respect is the sum of all I have left. And that I’ll not sacrifice.”

“You desire him though,” Hope said gently. “A yearning smolders in your eyes sometimes before you push it behind that curtain of scorn you erect.”

“Blind or no, I won’t settle for a one-sided marriage. It’s all or nothing.”

“How do you know he doesn’t feel the same?” Hope softly challenged.

Her sister’s delusions wouldn’t make it so. Luke would never cherish her in the way a husband did a beloved helpmate. And he sure didn’t see her as an equal—more like a helpless albatross.

“He doesn’t feel anything but pity.”

“You’re quite positive?”

“For God’s sake! A body can’t compare the union of two people to an auction where a man can buy or sell animals. Suppose I accept, banking on his good intentions. What will happen should I prove more trouble than he expects?”

That terrified her more than anything.

Glory knew if she dared give him half a chance, Luke’d take her heart and run. But not before he destroyed the tattered remains of her dignity.