Toby awoke in heaven. People didn’t die of broken bones, at least not straightaway, but he must have. There was a soft bed beneath him. Deep red curtains attached to its canopy matched those hanging on glass-paned windows. A marble fireplace on the opposite side of the room crackled, and the scent of spiced apples tickled his nose.
He sat up. His right forearm screamed he was very much alive, the sling and cast protecting it adding further proof.
A short woman wearing a starched apron, her hair tucked under a cap, bustled into the room carrying a tray that smelled of coffee, baked bread, and ham. “Good. You’re awake.”
Toby grabbed a fistful of bedsheet with his left hand, pulling it high to cover what the sling didn’t. “How’s my horse?”
The woman, who’d reach his shoulder if he was standing, cut him down to knee height with her look. “First, I’ve seen plenty of bare chests, so don’t go getting all ruffled up, hear? You’ll just reinjure that arm of yours, and we can’t have that, now can we? And second, you’ll have to wait until the mister visits to hear about your horse.”
She set the tray over top of his thighs then whisked away a silver dome, unleashing the powerful perfume of breakfast.
Toby stared at the food, salivating in anticipation. It was too pretty to eat. Scrambled eggs filled with bits of bacon, fluffy biscuits slathered in butter and dripping honey out the sides, and dark coffee accompanied by cream and sugar.
“Well?” She set the silver dome on the nightstand. “Do you plan on eating or painting a picture?”
“Where am I?” Even with an arm stinging like the dickens, Toby suspected he’d died and gone to heaven.
She placed her hand on his forehead. “No fever yet, praise the good Lord, but I’ll have to tell Doc you’re still fuzzy.”
Toby pulled away from the touch of her hand. “No, ma’am. Not fuzzy, just…” He swept the room with his eyes. “I never been in a place this fancy—or this clean—my whole life.”
The woman beamed. “Why thank you, Mr. Lane. I try to keep a tidy house despite Miss Nia and her muddy boots.”
“So I’m still at the Double L?” Toby leaned over the breakfast tray to minimize spillage as he fed himself with his left hand. He scooped eggs into his mouth and closed his eyes. A body could get used to this real fast.
“I take it you approve of the food.”
Not wanting any flavor to escape, Toby kept his lips closed but opened his eyes. “Mmm-hmm.”
She picked an errant bit of egg off the linen sheet. “I’ll leave you in peace, then, but the mister will likely be checking on you in a few minutes.” After adjusting the angle of a wingback chair by the fireplace and fluffing the little pillow sitting on it, she left.
He was biting into the second biscuit, honey drooling down his chin, when both Mr. Lindley and his daughter walked into the room.
Nia took one look at his chest and went pink, turning her eyes toward the fireplace. In that yellow dress, her blond hair done up in a loose bun…
She took his breath away.
Mr. Lindley walked straight to the bed and put his hand on Toby’s forehead. “Mrs. Lambert said you didn’t have a fever, but I’m not so sure.”
Pretty sure he knew why his skin was hot, Toby dropped the biscuit and wiped at his chin. He sat back and pulled at the linens with a sticky hand, but the breakfast tray wobbled, so he sat forward again and did his best to shield his bare chest. “Could I get a shirt or somethin’?”
Puzzlement settled on Mr. Lindley’s face.
Toby sent a significant look toward Nia then back to his exposed shoulder.
“Ah.” Mr. Lindley shrugged out of his jacket and laid it over Toby’s left side. “Better?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.” Toby drew his left hand into a fist so honey didn’t touch the fabric. “How’s Blaze?”
“He’s fine. A bruise, but my farrier assures me there’s no lasting damage.” Mr. Lindley walked to Nia and turned her toward the bed. “My daughter and I have a proposition for you.”
Dread settled over Toby’s heart like a sodden blanket.
Nia took two steps closer, her skin still flushed. “Mr. Lane, my father and I have discussed offering you a position as—”
“No.” Toby shook his head, sucking in a breath at the stab of pain. “I… I can’t take a job here.
“But you don’t even know what we’re offering.” Nia crossed her arms, her eyes filled with fire. “Not to mention the fact that you just rudely interrupted me.”
A worse breach of common courtesy than not saying “please” or “thank you.” “I know, and I’m right sorry, miss, but”—Toby stopped babbling to take a breath—“the thing is, I… I haven’t been completely honest with you.”
Nia blanched. Her father scratched one sideburn.
“See, my father is Lawrence Lane.” Neither father nor daughter flinched, which only meant they didn’t understand. Toby swallowed down the bit of biscuit threatening to come back up. “Lawrence. Lane. As in… Double L.”
“But the ranch is named after my mother, Lily Lindley.” Nia turned shocked eyes to her father. “To make up for too many L’s when she changed her name to marry you. That’s the story I’ve heard for years. Tell him.” She pointed with her right index finger. “Tell him the story.”
Mr. Lindley shook his head. “No, dear. That’s the reason I didn’t change the name of the ranch.”
Chest rising and falling, Nia sank into one of the wingback chairs. She wiggled, reached behind her, and pulled out the fluffed pillow. After tossing it onto the other chair, she stared at it like it was a lecher who’d pinched her backside. Even frowning, she was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.
Toby hurt down to his toenails. All that fussing about whether his motives were pure or not. What a waste! He was as horndoodled as Peltzer, thinking about settling down. “I tried to tell you.”
Nia crossed her arms. “When?”
“After team penning.”
Nia narrowed her eyes and stared at him. Toby held his breath until her shoulders relaxed and her gaze dropped. “I remember.”
If only that ended his shame.
“There’s more.” Before he lost his nerve, Toby spilled the entire, miserable story—how Pa gambled away the Double L in a poker game, the fight his parents had when Ma found out, her labor and death followed soon after by the baby’s death, and his pa’s horse thieving and treason by selling to Mexican soldiers on their way to the Alamo.
“I been trying to make up for what my pa done, but I can’t get out from under the curse, and I won’t have the Double L suffer for it.”
Nia narrowed her eyes again. “What curse?”
Toby looked between Nia sitting in the chair and her father leaning against the wall. Their faces reflected genuine puzzlement. “The sins of the father following to the third and fourth generation.”
They still looked confused. Were they not churchgoing people? “It’s in the Bible. I done heard a whole sermon on it about ten years back.” Toby cradled his injured arm and told them the bad luck that followed him from place to place. “I’m not gonna bring my curse here. I’ll collect my things and be gone”—he started to get out of bed, but the pain sent him back into the sheets—“as soon as I’m better.”
Mr. Lindley stepped close to his daughter. “I don’t think you have a choice in the matter, son. Petunia, what’s your verdict? Does Mr. Lane stay or does he go?”
Nia opened her mouth to send Toby Lane packing.
Papa put a hand on her shoulder.
Her lips snapped shut.
This was it. The test. How she responded determined whether she kept her home.
Alarm heated her skin. She angled her lips to blow cool air on her chest. The image of her pink dress—the one she’d worn to her sixteenth birthday ball… the one Marigold retrieved from storage to suggest as a bridesmaid dress—invaded her thoughts.
What did that awful dress have to do with anything?
She needed time to think, to go somewhere away from the pain and yearning in Toby’s eyes, but her father’s hand kept her in the chair. Apparently she needed to decide on a judgment now.
She’d not fail before she’d begun. “I’m struggling with how to respond, so please lend me patience while I talk this through. Let me start with your father, Mr. Lane.”
Toby nodded and lowered his head like he was waiting for an ax to fall.
“I don’t care two hoots or a holler about what he did.”
Toby’s head snapped up. He grimaced and clutched his arm.
Nia watched his expression change from shock to wary hope. “I’m concerned that you believe God cursed you, because the supposition is blasphemy. You have created a false god who condemns a man for the actions of another. What’s worse, you’ve bowed to this creation of yours.”
Toby looked between her and her father, eyes wide. “But the preacher man said—”
“What any preacher says must align with God’s truth.” Nia reached up to touch her father’s hand. “The apostle Paul said man’s words should be tested against the holy scriptures. Especially when a man claims to speak for God.”
The image of her dress intruded again.
What does it mean, Lord? I don’t understand. Please give me wisdom. I don’t want to lose my home.
Papa squeezed her shoulder. “Go on, Petunia. You’re doing fine.”
Sweet relief filled her lungs. “My second concern is what your wrong belief means for the Double L. Ranching is hard work filled with what you once called gambles. If you see yourself as defeated before you begin, you’ll run off when things get too hard.”
Toby went red in the face and his chin jutted. “I’ve never run from anything in my life.”
Gentle in spirit, unbendable in principle.
Nia drew a steadying breath. “According to your story, you already have, including the Whispering Pines Ranch. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”
Toby’s mouth opened and closed. He looked toward the window. Then a wry twist lifted his mouth. “So this is how it feels when someone tells you what you don’t wanna hear.”
Nia smiled at the reminder of him challenging her lack of common courtesy to the men. He’d been right then, just as she was right now. It would break her heart to send Toby away, but her first duty was to the Double L. Someone who gave up couldn’t be trusted with a new venture, particularly one as risky as training wild mustangs.
Papa gave her shoulder another squeeze. This one felt like encouragement rather than warning. As though he was telling her whatever choice she made, even if he disagreed, he’d stand with her.
Her breath caught.
Like he’d done the night of her sixteenth birthday!
The pink dress came into clear focus. Of course… it was God’s reminder of grace. She’d made a terrible choice, but Papa rescued her. She’d deserved a lecture, but he gave her precious gems. She’d earned censure, but he took her arm and marched her back into the ball, where they faced down the gossipmongers together. Papa’s response to her worst mistake shaped her understanding of God.
What had shaped Toby’s understanding? A thieving scoundrel of a father was easy to distinguish from a righteous God, but an absent father was, for some people, too similar to an invisible God. No wonder Toby didn’t see God or himself clearly now.
This was her opportunity to reflect a picture of the one, true God.
Nia stood and stepped closer to Toby. “But my greatest concern is that, in all the time you believed in this so-called curse, no one showed you God’s grace and mercy. It’s time that changed.” She met Toby’s gaze. “My father and I would like to offer you a two-year contract to train wild mustangs. If it proves unprofitable, we will terminate that contract—and only that contract. Your employment here will not be affected by the outcome. Of course, I reserve the right to boot you from here to the edge of Texas if you abuse either people or animals, but otherwise you will always have a home at the Double L.”
Toby’s mouth dropped open.
He really did have the nicest lips.
Nia cleared her throat. “Do you understand these conditions?”
“I do.”
The phrase bumped her heartbeat higher. “Then do you accept the job?”
His smile made her blush. “Only if’n you say, ‘Please.’”