Twenty-one

A gully washer appeared to have pitched camp on Day land. It appeared the good Lord’s wagon had overturned and the load of potatoes rolled out. Rashes of lightning through the cracks momentarily lit up the interior of the barn.

Luke tucked in his shirt and buckled his holster, wondering whether the crash truly came from beyond the doors.

Maybe it was the sound of dread lodged in his heart.

Trick yourself into believing it’s nothing more than a mere storm. You have to or you’ll go mad.

Another brief bolt gave him a glimpse of Glory. She dressed slowly, pulling on each item of clothing as if it were one more burden placed on her weary shoulders.

A cough dislodged the lump in his windpipe. “I’ll climb to the loft. I should be able to find what I left.”

She didn’t need to know he’d already found it.

Nope. Because keeping her wasn’t part of the bargain he made with himself. Watching and not being able to claim her for his own would…well, let him just say it wasn’t something a man could do. Might as well yank out his innards and stomp on ’em. Hell, at least leaving might save something.

“Don’t forget to watch for snakes,” she called softly.

Feet of lead tended to move very slowly. Several feet away, he propped himself against a stall, staring at the vision of her. Far enough.

He’d lied, but Glory would never know. Each flash of light bought a second more of heaven.

Dressed now, Glory called, “Did you find what you’re looking for?”

Everything and more.

Luke wiped traces of wetness from his eyes and retreated farther so she wouldn’t guess he’d been watching.

“Yep. Sure did.” Forced lightness didn’t come easy. He’d need practice if he kept this up.

She appeared relieved when he dropped beside her. Luke reckoned she’d not grown as accustomed to the shadows as she let on. Or could be the storm created the jitters.

“I left before saying goodbye last time.” He absorbed the fragrance of her to take with him.

“A bad habit of yours.” Her composure showed signs of cracking.

Damn.

The important matter he’d forgotten, a bit of paper, scraped his palm even though he held it with great care. He lifted Glory’s left hand.

“I meant to give this to you then but I was afraid.”

“You, McClain? I thought only snakes scared you.”

“A whole mess of things scares my socks off.” Most of all riding off, knowing he’d never return. Either six feet under or making himself at home down Mexico way, this was the end of the trail.

He slipped the cigar band on her middle finger and laid her hand back in her lap.

“What is it?”

“A token to remember me by.”

“You speak as though you won’t be…”

The catch in her voice punched him in the gut. He shouldn’t have come. No one would emerge a winner. Even as he whipped himself, he knew no power on earth could’ve kept him away. He found the frank assessment bitter. She’d pay the price for his selfish desires.

“Most likely I’ll not see you again.”

“Does it pertain to the robberies and Mrs. Tucker’s murder? If so, I don’t care. Whatever you are or have done can’t change the way I feel.”

“Even should you discover I’m guilty?” he asked softly.

“Nothing…on this earth can ever change my heart.” Glory grabbed his arm. “Promise you’ll come back. Please.”

“Can’t. What I do is too dangerous for you to know.”

She bit her knuckle until Luke expected to see blood. Probably in desperation to still the tremble of her lip. Lord knew he fought the same band of steel that threatened to squeeze the life from him. He’d reached into the wretched depths of his soul, a place where nothing but truth dared enter. He found the harsh reality of what he saw a weighty cross to bear.

She felt her hand. “But what did you put on my finger?”

“A cigar band, a symbol of my feelings for you that you can hold. Shoot, maybe you’ll even tell folks the cowboy who came calling wasn’t such a bad sort after all…should circumstances take a turn.”

How they could get much worse he didn’t know, for surely death couldn’t impose the type of misery gripping him now. He winced, forcing breath into his raw lungs.

“This danger…let me help you.”

Luke chose to ignore the plea that shredded his control. He’d rolled the dice before he turned toward Day property and they’d come up double sixes. It was too late to change course.

“If I win, your father will be a free man.”

“And if you don’t?”

A jagged flash revealed her ashen face. He’d already lost what he spent his whole life looking for. Sucking what little air remained, he gathered her into his arms.

Then she tilted her face.

Have mercy! If anyone had said looking at someone through tears could form halos around their head, he’d have called them crazy fools.

He kissed the sightless, stonewashed eyes. Then the tip of her nose. Despite his intent to stop there, he could not. A groan rumbled in his throat. Trembling under her spell, he teased the curved mouth with tiny flutters of his tongue before he feasted fully on the beauty.

Just then Patience bounded inside. “He’s gone! You can come back inside.”

Damn that girl! Luke raised his head. “Over here.”

Best end it now. He moved back and let go of his hold before he took leave of the drop of sense he had left. Before he pulled her back to the hay. And before he forgot he had a long way to go before the dawn.

“Mr. Luke, you don’t have to hide anymore.”

Little did she know.

Puddles formed at the girl’s feet as rain slid from the bright-yellow slicker. A similar one for Glory draped from her arm.

“’Preciate it, Punkin.” He tweaked her nose. “Gotta make tracks.”

“Ain’t you staying the night? The storm’ll drown you.”

Under these circumstances, he considered drowning an improvement.

“Luke?” Glory’s strangled cry almost broke him.

“Can’t. It’s gotta be this way, darlin’.” He cupped her face in his palm. “Shh. Let Punkin take you back to the house. Don’t worry about me. Just keep picturing your papa sitting in his own parlor. He will be soon. Trust me.”

“But—”

His lips smothered her complaint. Slow and deliberate, he took everything she gave. And when her mouth parted, he thrust his tongue inside to savor one last taste. A man racked with guilt, he pushed her toward the door.

“Now scoot. I’ve got things to do.” He turned, settled his hat firmly on his head, and took a final look around the place that would linger in his memory until he departed this earth. Then, he closed his eyes against the awful pain that dropped him to his knees.

* * *

The morning came much too soon to suit Glory. She drew herself into a small ball, cursing the day that saw fit to turn a deaf ear to her prayers.

She recognized the footsteps entering the alcove, choosing to ignore the intrusion.

“Are you sick?” Hope’s concern filtered past the grief.

Glory lifted her head from the tearstained pillow. The feather mattress sank as her middle sister perched on the side. Ill? That didn’t begin to cover this purgatory she’d fallen into. “Can’t a body lie abed without everyone asking why?”

“You didn’t come to the breakfast table and I wondered.”

The thought of food didn’t sit well. “Not hungry.”

“Aren’t you coming to church with us?”

Sitting through a sermon on varying degrees of sin held no appeal whatsoever. “I don’t think so.”

“You’ve been crying! Did something happen last night?”

“Luke’s gone.”

Despair crawled from that inner catacomb where shattered dreams went to die.

“He’ll be back.”

“No, not this time. He said goodbye.”

“If it’s only a quarrel, you can make amends.”

Dear God, she wished it were that simple. Disbelief riddled her hope. It was a small miracle she could continue to breathe with a heart that had stopped beating. Her and Luke’s disagreement? Only in the killing of two lonely souls. She fingered the cigar band he’d placed on her hand, the token of his caring.

“Nothing like that. Now, can you leave me?”

Hope lay on the bed and stroked Glory’s back. “You’re the glue, the driving force, that holds Mama, Patience, and me together. We can’t let you give up on life simply because you got a raw deal. I refuse to do that.” A quiver filled her voice. “If you’re not strong enough to fight, I’ll do it for you until you can get some starch back in your spine.”

Patience spoke, throwing herself on top of both her sisters. “And me too.”

How long Squirt had been in the room, Glory could only hazard a guess. Fresh hotness washed over her. She did need them. Family could give her something to cling to in this new place where cold was the temperature of pitch-black.

Not that it came close to filling the shoes of a charming scoundrel. Nothing could. Lord knew she’d need every scrap of help to ease the loneliness though.

Patience laid her cheek to Glory’s. “Please, Glory. We can’t bear it without you. If you don’t wanna get up, I’ll lie here with you. I don’t wanna hafta whip those darn kids anyhow.”

That decided it. A body couldn’t be alone in her misery with a small crowd. She pushed them off.

“Hell’s bells! You win. I may as well get dressed.”

“I’ll pour your coffee.”

Quite a satisfied snap to Hope’s skirts, Glory thought, swinging her feet to the floor. She’d make an effort, though she couldn’t promise how long she could mask her desolation and loss.

A deep sigh later, groping for her Sunday best, she found it shoved into her outstretched hands.

“Who’s there?”

“Only me.” Patience sniffled. “I’m sorry you’re blind.”

“I asked Hope not to tell.”

“She didn’t. I knew it all by myself.”

Did everyone in the whole blessed town know? Mama? “Will you keep my secret? Just for a while.”

“I love you, Glory. I’d never hurt you.” Patience launched herself into Glory’s arms.

She pried the small arms from her neck. “That goes double for me. Now scat so I can have a minute’s peace.”

Only when she heard voices in the kitchen did she truly know they’d left her. She pulled the dress over her muslin petticoats and buttoned it. By touch alone, she found the cotton stockings, then her shoes.

Strange how much remembrance a person relied on. The comb on the stand, underthings in the top dresser drawer…and the reason why she’d grow old alone.

Just for today, couldn’t she be a scared little girl? She squinched her eyes shut. Please block the memories, she prayed.

Suddenly, she bent and patted the floor beneath the bed until she located the empty seed box. She sat and held it on her lap.

Though old and useless, the wooden container held the greatest treasure anyone had ever bestowed. The top slid back easily and she reached inside. She unfolded the piece of faded tissue paper from around the prize—the toothbrush Luke had given her.

She cradled it to her heaving bosom.

Still brand-new, it represented something she thought beyond reach. It had taken a stranger on a paint horse to show her such trappings did not a lady make. True, she’d never be refined and wealthy in the way of Bess Whitfield. But Luke taught her a lady meant far more than that. She already had what she’d always desired.

Blaming her father for her perceived lack had been wrong. She’d dishonored him and now it was too late to beg forgiveness.

Fate had to strip her of so many things for her to see.

She’d asked only for one kiss and was given a love unlike any she’d dared imagine.

A pretty fair exchange, she reckoned. Except she wished someone had warned her how gutshot she’d feel at giving it up. The hand that reached through the mangled mess and ripped her heart from its mooring cared nothing for her survival.

“Are you dressed, Glory?” Hope called.

With tender care, she replaced the paper over the toothbrush. Then removing the cigar band from her finger, she tucked both precious items inside the box and slid it beneath her bed.

“Be right there.”

A few calming breaths later, she slipped on a smile to mask her broken heart.

* * *

The rain-cooled day gave most of Santa Anna’s faithful reason to rejoice. Everywhere Glory turned, folks spoke in shushed tones about the possible end to the drought. Perhaps fear that the heavens should get wind of their doubts and plunge them back into dryness kept their voices lowered.

Mama pleaded a sick headache this Sunday morn, refusing to rise from her bed. This made Hope’s and her task imperative.

They stood at the bottom of the steps after the service.

“I see him,” Hope whispered. “Dr. Dalton’s coming.”

“Is anyone with him?”

“He’s alone for the moment.”

“Good. It’ll make it easier.”

“Uh-oh.”

“What?”

Suddenly, someone jerked Glory’s arm. “I want to know what you think you’re doing. We’re not going to stand for it.”

Bess’s vicious attack left her reeling. Whatever did the snooty girl mean? Somehow, she had to keep her vision impairment from the town, for they’d only delight in using it against her. She turned her face toward the sound, staring as if she had perfect sight.

“Nice weather, isn’t it, Bess?”

“Don’t nice me, you…you farm tramp, beau stealer.”

Stinging words for someone who had the wrong facts. Lightning must’ve struck the fashion queen’s brain. Glory hadn’t stolen anything that she knew of.

“What are you babbling about?”

“As if you don’t know.” Amelia joining the fray came as no surprise.

Uncle Pete once pointed out that if one half of the Miss Prisses came to an abrupt stop, the other’s nose would be imbedded very far up a part of her indelicate anatomy.

“Would you care to enlighten me?”

“You probably thought you could get away with it, but we spied you walking arm in arm with Dr. Dalton.”

Finally, it made sense. Luke hadn’t been the only one to blow the episode out of proportion. She tried to ignore the torture that came when her mind spoke his name.

“For heaven’s sake!” There went that unladylike snort she hated. “I’m not going to belittle myself justifying it.”

“I don’t know where you get the idea that you’re pretty enough for two men to be courting you. You’re as ugly as a fence post.”

“That’s about enough. Leave my sister alone.” Hope’s snarl shocked the daylights out of her. Glory had never heard her sister use that tone.

“Who’s gonna make us?”

“Me, that’s who.”

If only she could see. She was missing out. Grunts and the swishing of air made her think of blows being exchanged for some reason. Fisticuffs in her defense?

“Ahem, ladies, is there a problem here?”

Despite having spoken with Dr. Dalton no more than twice, Glory recognized the distinguished baritone.

“Of course not.” Bess couldn’t have been sweeter. “We were simply discussing the virtues of respecting one’s property.”

“I see.” He chuckled the same way he had before when he told of his sister. “Well, it looks like the discussion split your lip, Miss Whitfield.”

“Hope?” Alex O’Brien arrived winded and puzzled. “Did I just see what I thought?”

“You sure did, and I’ll give ’em some more if they don’t button their mouths.” First snarls and now smugness. What else would Hope reveal before the day ended, pray tell?

“I thought my imagination was playing tricks on me.”

“It didn’t. Did you want something, Alex?”

“I rented a buggy from the livery. I’d like to take you home if it’s all right.”

“We’re a little busy right now. We have business of a personal nature with Dr. Dalton. If you don’t mind waiting?”

Glory imagined a certain light in the boy’s eyes at the prospect. How nice to be young and foolish. As she once was.

Before she learned everything came with a high price.

“I’ll count the minutes,” he said.

She died to know if Bess and Amelia had decided they’d bitten off more than they could chew and moved on. Fire and damnation, she cursed this blackness!

“Misses Hope and Glory, fortune indeed smiled on me this morn. What is it you wanted to bend my ear about?”

“A delicate situation, Doctor.” Glory directed the answer toward her right, where she’d heard him.

“Ah, a professional visit. Then, in that case, I suggest we adjourn to my office.”

Strength in the hand that took her arm gave her to know it most likely wasn’t Hope. However, after the events of the last five minutes, she could be totally wrong. For the first time since awaking, she felt a smile form. Her sister had literally meant what she said about fighting for her.

“Dr. Dalton,” came Amelia’s whine. “Bess and I brought some of that fried chicken you love so well. Will you come eat Sunday dinner with us?”

“Later. Duty calls at the moment.”

“I doubt we can keep it warm.”

They’d certainly earn high marks in persistence.

Again, Ted Dalton chuckled. “Cold is my favorite, girls.”

She felt him turn slightly.

“Oh, and, Miss Whitfield, you might put a damp cloth on that lip. I see the makings of an awful bruise.”

Gasps filled the air behind them.

“Miss Hope, you’ve got quite a mean punch. Ever think of becoming a pugilist?”

“Oh no, sir; I’d never do anything like that.”

The doctor’s teasing and this new side of Hope had Glory’s head whirling. She only prayed Squirt stayed out of trouble. She hadn’t seen her since the reverend ended his sermon.

Defending principles appeared to run rampant in the Day family.