Six

“Mr. Luke, Mr. Luke.” Patience tripped and almost fell over her own feet as she ran.

His slow advance toward moist, rosy promise came to a halt. Glory jumped back. Panic, and something awful close to fear, swept her face.

Cotton-pickin’!

He groaned, swallowing more than a mouthful of frustration. The girl ruined a perfect moment. Darn his hide, he might never find Glory in this receptive frame of mind again.

“Punkin, where’s the fire?”

“Nowhere. Come ’ere.” The girl grabbed his hand and pulled him. “I wanna show you some baby rabbits I found.”

“Don’t reckon it can wait a few minutes, can it? I’m talking right now.” He tried to catch Glory’s attention, to let her know he intended to pick up where he left off the next chance he got. But she snatched up the turkeys without a glance and made long strides for the house.

“Seems Glory’s done talkin’, Mr. Luke.”

“Reckon she is at that.” Regret covered him, scratching like those darn woolen pants. With considerably more pain than that in his busted leg, he let the girl lead him to her discovery.

Problem was, he hadn’t found a woman he’d wanted to kiss since Jessie. Not one awoke a flicker of response inside his lonely heart. None until he’d met the blue-eyed Glory.

Odd he didn’t sense a betrayal to Jessie’s memory. Not that she’d ever returned his sentiment. She hadn’t. He’d kept his pining secret, not daring to allow a whisper of it to cross his lips. Only in the dead of night did he take her memory from the hiding place and hold her. Such as it’d always be. Jessie had eyes for no one other than his brother, Duel.

With his stare hidden beneath the shadow of the hat, Luke admired the sway of Glory’s hips. Those britches outlined each curve of her willowy legs as she strolled toward Hope.

His swallow got stuck.

* * *

Perspiration soaked Glory’s shirt. She wished she could lay it in the sun’s waning rays. Tiny trickles ran down the crease between her breasts. Boiling her in hot oil couldn’t have made her skin more sensitive or more ablaze.

If beaus and courting did this to a body, she didn’t know why anyone would seek the experience. Her stomach twisted and turned worse than a butter churn full of fresh cream.

She flopped a turkey onto the chopping block and reached for the hatchet. Suddenly the full import sank in.

Oh my! McClain had almost kissed her. Had it not been for Patience, she might’ve known the thrill of those taunting lips pressing against hers. A sudden giddy rush buckled her knees. She gripped the tree stump for balance.

“What’s the matter, Glory? You’re pale.” Hope waited for her to chop off the bird’s head so she could clean and pluck it.

“I’m fine.” A quick flick of the wrist separated the dead turkey’s head from his body. “Just fine.”

“Well, you don’t look it.” Hope began her task of readying the big bird for supper.

Glory slung the other one onto the block. From the corner of her eye, she caught McClain’s lean figure. Even at this distance, she couldn’t miss the anguish that swept his face as it often did when he thought no one noticed. His leg hurt more than he admitted. Though he tried to fake everyone, he didn’t pull the wool over her eyes for a minute.

He bent stiffly and made an agonizing attempt to squat for a better view of the rabbits to which Patience pointed. The trousers molded to the muscle and flesh beneath. She missed the second gobbler’s neck by several inches.

“Your friend sure has nice manners. It says something about a man when he pays attention to a pesky chatterbox.” Hope’s observation made Glory wonder if she’d witnessed her shameful display earlier. “Yep, Mr. McClain is real nice. And handsome to boot.”

“He’s not my friend. He’s a stranger.” Impatience seeped into her voice. Not at Hope though. The irritation lay with herself for falling so readily into a perfect stranger’s arms.

Perfect? Dear heavens! Even though she couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion he kept a dark secret from them, she allowed there were one or two things that came awfully close to it. She supposed a body might call his white teeth surrounded by a warm, generous mouth and mischievous brown eyes as close to perfect as a man could get.

Nonetheless, she didn’t have to become a mindless Amelia. She drew back the hatchet and this time cleanly whacked off the head.

Hope gasped softly, making Glory wonder if she’d spoken her thoughts aloud.

“Who do you suppose that is?”

She followed Hope’s gaze to a horse and buggy turning onto the property. An unsettling hunch flickered through her mind.

“Guess we’ll find out shortly.”

Glory hurried to meet the visitor. Should this pertain to what she thought, she didn’t want McClain to get wind. This was Day family business and none of his affair.

“Good Day, Miss Glory,” called Alex O’Brien, a nice young man who worked at the bank. Seemed a pleasant enough sort and she didn’t hold his pronounced limp against him. Can’t help the way you come into the world or the things that happen once you get here. At least, most of the time.

“Afternoon. What brings you out this way?”

Alex wore a solemn expression. “Sorry to say it’s business, ma’am.” His gaze drifted past. “Howdy, Miss Hope.”

Glory supposed it would be safe to say the boy was moon-eyed over her middle sister, though he hadn’t yet gotten courage enough to come calling. Merely a matter of time.

“This isn’t a proper place to discuss it.” She cast an anxious glance toward McClain, who stood staring with something akin to snoopy interest. “Step into the house.”

“Would you care for a drink of water or some fresh milk?” she asked after he seated himself stiffly in the parlor.

Alex licked his lips nervously. Her fear of impending doom grew at seeing him fidget with the hat in his hands.

“Water might be nice, ma’am…if it’s no bother.”

“Hope, please take care of our guest.” Glory sank into her father’s chair. O’Brien hadn’t met her gaze since his arrival. That spelled trouble of the foreclosure kind.

“What can I help you with?”

“This is best discussed with Mrs. Day. Meanin’ no offense, ma’am.”

“My mother is ill and can’t be disturbed. Besides, I handle Day affairs. Now what brought you?”

The boy took advantage of Hope’s return. He accepted the tin cup, gulping the liquid. Glory waited while he wiped his mouth and returned the empty cup to her sister. The rocking chair creaked when Hope slid into it, smoothing her skirts.

“Mr. Fieldings sent me, ma’am.” He licked his lips again, she suspected to bolster his courage. She didn’t have to lay claim to mind reading to see that the bank employee hated his mission. “Aw, I wish I didn’t have to do this. I’d rather take a beatin’.”

A quietness spread through her body. A quiet that came in advance of a storm. She gripped the arm of the chair.

“It’s all right, Alex. You have a job to do. Go ahead and spit it out.”

“The bank is calling in your note. He’s giving you two weeks to pay it in full or else this farm will become the bank’s property…ma’am.”

The news stole the air from her lungs. Her head rang worse than the time old Caesar kicked her. Two weeks. Aunt Dorothy’s warning came true.

Hope’s shocked cry jarred the silence. “No! What are we going to do? Where will we live?”

How could she have overlooked preparing Hope for this sickening turn of events? She threw Alex a look loaded with buckshot and hurried to her sister. He jumped to his feet. He wouldn’t be wrong in sensing his welcome had expired.

“Don’t worry, we’ll think of something. We’re not going to lose this house.” Glory kept one arm around Hope’s sagging shoulders and glared at the messenger. “Make no mistake, we’re not going to easily give up this land that has supported two generations of Days.”

“I’m terribly sorry.” He inched toward the door.

“Not without one heck of a fight. Tell that to your boss!”

The screen door slammed behind the scared boy. It had barely stopped reverberating when Luke stormed in.

“What lit a shuck under that boy? I swear I’ve never seen anyone so hell-bent.” Concern lined his face when he saw Hope’s tears. “I’ll kill him if he did anything…”

“Family business. Nothing more.” She couldn’t let him see their ruination. And she sure didn’t want his pity. She could hear the buzz now—Those poor Day girls couldn’t even keep a roof over their heads. Poor as church mice.

“All you have to do is say the word and I’ll go after him.”

In spite of the dread blocking her windpipe, she had to smile at the picture of Luke dragging O’Brien back by the nape of his neck and the seat of his pants.

His solicitude almost made her feel…protected.

Almost special.

And if it were possible…almost loved.

The story of her life—everything came too late. She lived an almost life.

“I appreciate your offer, but we’re just fine.”

Luke didn’t bat an eye. “Don’t think Miss Hope shares that opinion.”

Glory squeezed her sister tightly, willing the girl to reassure him.

“Alex was the perfect gentleman. There’s no call for bloodshed.” Hope wiped her eyes and smiled brightly.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I have turkeys to pluck.”

The strength came unexpectedly. They had more in common than she thought. At sixteen, the calm, easygoing Hope hadn’t shown an inclination up until now for the kind of backbone it took to survive here. That she might share their mother’s weak nature had indeed caused some sleepless nights. Speaking of which, she should check on Mama. She wished she knew the nature of Ruth’s problem and what to do.

“Excuse me, McClain.” She wasn’t prepared when he caught her arm. Not for the warmth of his touch or the caring in his low drawl.

“I’m not stupid. Don’t know what that boy said to rattle you, but I know trouble when I smell it.”

His stubborn persistence didn’t surprise her, but the tic in his firmly set jaw did.

“Let me help,” he pleaded.

For a moment, he sorely tempted her. Even though he couldn’t offer a solution, it would ease the burden a little to share it with a willing soul.

Even a perfect stranger who’d about swept her off her feet.

“You can’t.” The strangled words threatened to choke her.

Compassion turned the dusky gaze a deep, rich brown. She barely felt his breath fluttering the hair at her temples, because she was too busy drowning with longing.

The slamming screen broke the trance.

Patience skipped into the parlor. “Mr. Luke, look what I found in the barn. What kind is it?”

Luke jumped back when the girl pushed a green snake into his face. “Fire and damnation, girl!”

Able to breathe again, Glory hastened to disguise the quivers that would expose her. “Not afraid, are you?”

“Not fond of anything that crawls on its belly.” He edged toward the door for a getaway. “Snakes and I part company.”

“It’s harmless.” She couldn’t help tease. The petrified look on his face said McClain wasn’t the tough, fearless man he tried to convince everyone he was.

Patience stretched it out. “Don’cha want to pet him?”

A forked tongue shot from its mouth.

“My father didn’t raise any fool, Punkin. Besides, I don’t think your pet likes me.” With that, Luke bolted.

“Take the thing outside, Patience, then go pick us a mess of poke salad for supper. I saw some down by the creek today.” She didn’t wait for the girl to object. “After that, bring in the clothes hanging on the line. I’m sure they’re dry.”

“I’m just a little kid, Glory. I can’t do all that.”

“Sure you can. Now get to it.” She walked to the door to her mother’s room and knocked softly, praying she was lucid for once.

* * *

A pleasant surprise came the following morning. The normal routine Luke had observed from the first day changed.

He did a double take, then backtracked when Glory came to breakfast wearing a dress instead of her usual britches. For a minute, he thought he’d lost count of the days and Sunday had snuck up behind his back.

The jolt damn near made him choke on the coffee Hope had poured.

Truth to tell, she looked beautiful in the faded flour-sack dress. Soft and feminine. Try his darnedest, he couldn’t keep from staring at the snug cloth that molded, cradled each curve.

Luke set his cup down crookedly, barely noticing the hot liquid that sloshed onto his hand.

She’d twisted her hair into a loose knot atop her head. It added an elegant air. But it was the tiny gold ringlets framing her face that gave wings to the sensitive spirit inside. The part she tried so desperately to hide. She’d wrestle an alligator to keep anyone from thinking for one minute she had a hint of a chink in her armor. Not that she had to worry on that account. In his estimation, he figured Glory Day was the strongest, most determined woman he’d ever met.

But the sensitive part showed in the love she gave her mother and sisters. Even when they made her mad enough to spit nails.

“Mornin’.” He hobbled around the table to hold her chair. “Didn’t recognize you at first.”

She accepted the cup Patience brought—“Thank you, Squirt”—then took a slow sip before answering. “You mean without my regular garb?”

Luke rubbed the sharp needles of pain from his leg, ignoring the pointed sarcasm. “I have to say you look fetching. Just wondered if I’d skipped a couple of days.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “By any chance, is this Sunday?”

“It’s Thursday. Just so happens I have business in town that requires me to look my best.”

“Oh?” His brow shot up; then he winked broadly. “Courtin’ business?”

Bright spots colored her cheeks, rewarding his efforts. Truth told, he couldn’t bear to think of other hands touching her.

“You have a lot of nerve!”

Her stare assuredly was of the defiant variety, sorta what Custer might have used when he met Sitting Bull.

“Mighty dressed up. Smell nice too.”

“It’s business of another sort, if you must know.”

“Your father? Has he—”

“No.”

Her clipped reply gave him to know it was her ball of wax, and he could peddle his nosiness elsewhere or she’d shoot the other leg.

Bank business, he reckoned. No other reason to get gussied up and head for town in the middle of the week. Plus, he’d seen her counting the coins in the fruit jar and the tremble of her fingers. Her eyes afterward had held a hint of moisture. Punkin explained that’s where they kept the family’s finances.

Hope picked that moment to plop down a big platter of flapjacks between them. “Don’t let these get cold.”

“Is Mama up?” Concern masked Glory’s clear gaze.

“She hasn’t come from her room yet. I sent Patience to wake her.”

“I did like you told me.” The littlest Day brought the jar of sorghum to the table and slid sideways into her seat.

“Yes, but did you make sure she heard?”

A sharp edge had crept into Glory’s question. Things were getting to her.

“Mama opened her eyes. What more do you want?” Patience glared from one sister to the other. “You always blame me. It’s not fair.”

“If you weren’t such a lovable kid, we’d leave you on the reverend’s doorstep with a note.” Glory pushed back her chair. “Only he’s too nice for that.”

Hope stopped her. “I’ll see to Mama.”

“You wouldn’t dare get rid of me. If you did, you wouldn’t have anyone to push around,” Patience argued.

Luke stepped in quickly to forestall the murder about to take place. “Hey, Punkin. Wanna go fishing after breakfast?”

“Just you an’ me?”

“Yep.”

“Oh boy. I know a good place to dig for worms.”

Hope returned. “Mama’s getting ready.”

Thick tension swept the table. Why, he didn’t know, but his gut told him it involved the unwanted visitor from last evening.

He returned Punkin’s grin. The day was young yet and he had the little darling all to himself. It wouldn’t take much prying.