The clouds broke up and the storm moved on, but the heaviness it left settled into my bones and mind. I brooded silently, feeling a quiet dread. Toby had destroyed my equilibrium.
I realized two years alone on the High Plains had taught me to deal with quite a lot. With nearly everything. Everything but a man.
He took it well. Perhaps he realized what kind of thoughts and fears he’d put into my head. I began to see he really did know me. Instinctively he knew when to speak and when to keep silent. Somehow we muddled through the day.
Supper was quiet. Nothing was said of his declaration. Yet when I did slip and meet his eyes I saw many words reflected there, words he wanted to speak, but saying nothing because I refused to hear. The air was drawn and tense between us, charged with unspoken feelings. The food was tasteless in my mouth.
After supper Toby went to the rocker and sat, dark browed as he stared off into space. His face was kept expressionless, but I watched furtively, expecting a change.
At last he broke the silence, his words a welcome release. He spoke calmly and without emotion.
“If you have paper and a pen, I’d like to write my mother. She would want to know about my plans.”
I turned from the sink. “There is no paper. But I’ll go to town tomorrow and fetch some.”
He shrugged. “Don’t go to the trouble. I can do without.”
“I don’t mind the drive. I’ll go.”
His warm smile flashed and brought relief to me. “Good. I’ll go with you.”
“You can’t!” I said quickly.
The bright cast of his face altered. “You don’t want me anywhere near you, do you?”
“Oh, it ain’t that. No, Toby. It’s for safety’s sake I want you here.”
“Safety’s sake?”
“If folks in town see you with me, you can be certain they’ll point a finger to the farm when the Barstows come.”
Incredulously I watched dawning realization in his eyes. He had forgotten all about the men chasing him. In the face of what he had said to me about marriage, he’d utterly neglected his circumstances.
“Yes,” he said soberly, “you’re right. I—I hadn’t realized.” He swallowed. “Are they so close to Ridgely?”
I met his solemn eyes across the room. “They’re due any day, Toby.”
“Then I’d best stay here.”
“Yes.”
He stirred in the rocker, stroking Patch as the cat leaped into his lap. “You’d best stay, too. I don’t want you getting into trouble.”
“I can’t hide here,” I said gently. “They’ll come sooner or later. I’d rather face them in town where there’s people I know, instead of meeting them here.”
He smiled across at me lopsidedly. “You said once the Barstows didn’t scare you. Did you mean it?”
I hunched a shoulder. “I don’t know. I’d be a fool to say flat out I’m not frightened of what they are, but maybe it’ll help me stand up to them. Sometimes fear makes a good strengthener. Any timid thing will fight if backed into a corner.”
“I’d hardly call you timid.”
I grinned at him, pleased the easiness was back. “Stubborn might be a better word for me.”
“Stubbornness makes for strength, too.”
“I suppose.” I sighed and rubbed distractedly at my forehead. “Toby, I’m going to bed. Sleep well.”
He frowned. “It’s early yet.”
“I’m tired. Wearied to the bone. And I’ve got a lot of thinking to do.”
“About what?”
I halted at the curtained doorway of my tiny bedroom and glanced at him over a shoulder. “You laid a heaviness on my soul today in the rain. Now let me think it over.”
Color came up in his strong-boned face and light swelled in his eyes. “You mean you’ll really consider it?”
“I’m not considering anything,” I explained. “I’m only trying to get my thoughts straight. You muddled everything up today.”
“Getting married isn’t like a sickness, Lonnie, you don’t die from it.”
I glared at him, then tried to sound patient. “These things don’t come easy to me. You know that.”
“I know it well.”
I took a deep breath, trembling, making an effort to ignore my weariness. I was still very hesitant about the new meaning creeping into my life, but I had to tell him something. I had to let him know.
“It wouldn’t be fair, you know, not fair at all—if I said I couldn’t ever love you.”
Silence fell between us. I could feel my heavy heartbeat and wondered if Toby could hear it clear across the room. His head lifted and his eyes met mine. For a long moment all we could do was stare at one another. Then he began to smile.
“Perhaps I must be patient.”
I moved across the room and stood before him. “I know it’s less than you wanted, but it’s more than I ever expected to give. Would you put words in my mouth?”
“Never.”
“Then let me be to think.”
He grinned. “And the considering part will come later?”
I laughed at him, then shivered once. “Sleep well, Toby.”
I took myself off to bed but sleep wouldn’t come. My thoughts were disjointed, skipping around so much I could not pin anything down. I tossed the covers off, hot in the rain-washed night, unable to find a comfortable position. My eyes burned with grit and my head felt tight, pressing in against my brain. I heard Toby go to bed at last, and when dawn came in I found I hadn’t slept at all. I could feel every lost minute.
I lay staring at the roof, disinclined to get out of bed. It was past time for me to start the chores, but for once I couldn’t dredge up the vitality to climb out of bed and start work.
Toby finally came to the doorway and pulled the curtain aside. “Are you awake?”
I swallowed, startled at the soreness it caused. “I’m awake,” I rasped.
“Are you getting up?”
“I am up.” I crawled out of bed.
Once dressed I went in to the table, aware of the ache in my bones. Even my skin hurt. I sat down quickly as my head went oddly light and woolly. I muttered to myself, not even understanding my own words. Toby came out of the bedroom.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Fine. Just tired.”
He came around the table and stared at me. “You look sick.”
“I’m never sick,” I said, shivering once.
“You better go back to bed.”
“Chores,” I croaked. I felt drained, sucked dry of all strength. All I wanted to do was lie down on the floor and let the world go away.
“I can do the chores, Lonnie. Go back to bed.”
I leaned my head on my arms, peering up through squinted eyes at his concerned face. “I’ve got things to do. I have to go into town and get your paper.”
“Forget that.” He sat down next to me and looked closely at my face, which felt hot. “You’ll do better off in bed.”
“I don’t take orders from you.”
He ignored that. “You look terrible.”
I was feeling worse by the moment and hearing that helped me none at all. I flashed him a resentful look and pushed to my feet, steadying myself against the table. Toby caught my arm and ignored me as I tried to pull away.
“Let’s get you to bed.”
I quit arguing and let him forcibly take me off to bed. I crawled in and huddled beneath the covers, hoping my stomach would stop its heaving.
“Toby,” I said weakly, “Go away and leave me alone.”
“I want to help.”
“Then bring me my chamber pot and go away. Far.”
“Oh,” he said sharply, and did as I asked.
When I awoke I was a huddled mass of misery beneath my blankets. I wanted to die. I, who was never sick, felt so bad I understood what it was to need attention and care. But I wouldn’t ask for it from him. It went against my nature.
“Toby!” My own cry woke me, startling me, but not nearly as much as the conviction he was gone. He had left again, this time for good, and I struggled up on one elbow. I would get up and go after him, fetching him back for good. I did not want him to leave me.
He came and leaned over me. “Lonnie,” he whispered, “rest easy. I’m right here.”
“You left me,” I told him fearfully. “Like before. You left.” I stared up into his face, searching it for the truth. “You were gone.”
“No, no, I’ve been here all the time. It’s only a dream.”
My hand reached out for his arm, and he grasped it gently, moving to sit down next to me.
“Toby, you won’t go?”
“I won’t go.”
“Toby, don’t ever go.”
Gently he smoothed back my damp hair. “I won’t. I promise.”
I was fading, drifting away. My voice was hardly a sound. “I don’t want you to go.”
“You’re stuck with me, Lonnie. Like it or not.”
My hand fell away from his and I slept.
He was not in the house when I awoke. The fever had gone and I felt well, if worn out, but I was suddenly afraid.
I got out of bed and changed, moving slowly but enough to get it done. Finally I walked carefully across the floor and out the front door. Fear still washed at me in waves, a twofold fear. One was that Toby had gone, another that it upset me so. How had I let myself get trapped?
I found him at the lean-to, milking Princess. He spoke softly to the cow, praising her fine little calf and predicting great things for the two of them. I stood silently in the doorway, struck by the tableau and not wishing to ruin it. I couldn’t help but notice the content look on his face, and the gentleness with which he worked.
Patch was there demanding his share, and Toby obliged with a quick squirt from the teat. His aim was better than mine. Then he rose and lifted the brimming bucket. He halted when he saw me, his face flooding with surprise and embarrassment. I grinned at him.
“You enjoyed that, Toby. You with all your talk of hating dairy work.”
He smiled sheepishly. “I never hated milking. Just the other work.”
“I see.”
“Besides, someone had to do it while you were sick.” He peered at me. “Are you better? You look a little peaked.”
“I’m wobbly, but well. Come on, let’s go get some breakfast. I’m starved.”
He grinned teasingly. “That’s because you spent most of the last two days losing everything you ever ate.”
I flushed and turned away, stiffening my back. I heard his laughter as I marched toward the house, and he came along behind.
Breakfast was a silent affair. I avoided his eyes and did some deep thinking, for I’d been able to straighten a few things in my head as I lay under the covers. I knew Toby well enough to realize he wanted me for me, not the land. Billy Ringling, a farmboy who lived west of me, had offered for me once. I’d learned real quick that as a wife I was worth forty acres of prime land and a good house. I told Billy Ringling off and hadn’t thought of marriage since, except to know it wasn’t for me. I’d never thought it could be.
And now Toby Markham came busting into my life with his bright dreams and quick words and the subject came up all over again. It was easy for me to deny it obstinately, particularly to myself. I’d done well enough without a man, why should I need one now?
But my soul whispered to me that this was Toby, and Toby was entirely different. Well, so was I. It aggravated me that I even had to think about the thing. Always before, decisions came fast to me, particularly the ones I said no to, but this was different.
I’d grown used to his presence. I liked working with him, being with him, seeing what our combined efforts produced. I liked cooking for us both and watching him fill up on my food, and I especially liked sitting after supper listening to him talk about his hopes for the future, when they didn’t include me. Whenever I came into it I was wary as a wolf cub with a bone.
He was forever telling me how to improve the place, how to make changes and improvements, extend the fields, increase the profits, add new crops. For a man who hated farming, he knew what the life was.
But I was afraid. I’d lost one beloved family; I couldn’t do it again. I’d have nothing left save the land, and as much as it meant to me, I didn’t think I had strength enough to face such a loss again. I had been alone and lonely too long. I wanted Toby’s company, but I was afraid to lose him still. It wasn’t marriage I was afraid of, it was the end of it.
He ate well. His color was good and he’d filled out, replacing the weight he’d lost. He was healed. It was time for him to go. I had said all along he must leave when he was healthy, and now I couldn’t let him. I sighed and pushed my plate away.
“Toby, I’ve done my considering.”
His chewing slowed as he looked at me. After a moment he swallowed, then sipped at coffee to wash his meal down. I saw a new wariness in his eyes I’d never seen before, and I realized my actions meant as much to him as they did me. Slowly he set the mug down and folded his arms on the table.
“So. I’m to know if I have a home or must move on again.”
“You’ve got a home in Minnesota,” I snapped.
He smiled faintly. “I left it behind. Right now I have none.”
“Whose fault is that?”
“Lonnie—”
“All right,” I sighed, giving it up. “All right, I’ll quit belaboring the point. But it ain’t easy.”
“Isn’t.”
“Ain’t!” I exclaimed. “If you’re so all-fired sure you want me for a wife, you’d best get used to my ways of speech and habits. You remind me of my ma, always on me about proper speech.”
He smiled. “Lonnie, I think you’re not ready to say what you want to say. I understand. It’s like you said, I laid a heaviness on your soul.”
I swallowed, unaccountably relieved. “I thought I might go into town today.”
“Are you well enough?”
“I feel fine, and I’d like to go. Maybe I can sort things out on the way in. I’ll give you an answer when I get back.”
His expression was odd. “Lonnie, I’ve never known anyone like you. Most people you can predict what they might say or do, but you—well, let’s just say I’d expect anything out of you. You might say yes to me, but you might just as easily say no.” He shook his head. “I just don’t know.”
“Remember that,” I said quietly.
He rose. “I’ll go hitch up the buckboard.”
I gathered up the money I needed and rebraided my hair, for once deciding I should take a little care with my appearance. It wasn’t every day I considered a proposal. I grinned lopsidedly at myself in the vanity glass. My Lord, what would I do with a proposal every day?
Tracker waited impatiently at the buckboard as I walked out to it. I set the rifle beneath the seat as always and sent the hound to his regular place. I nearly tripped over Patch, who wound himself around my bare legs and Toby’s booted feet.
Toby helped me into the buckboard. I nearly stumbled in the doing of it, for I was used to managing on my own. I shot him a startled glance and saw his amused smile, but he said nothing of it and neither did I. I wasn’t much of a lady, I guess, but there was no help for it. I gathered up the reins and looked at him.
“I’m going,”
“If you come to any decisions out there on the prairie, hurry back.”
I shook my head at him. “You’re too impatient. For all you know I might send you from my land.”
“Maybe,” he said quietly, “but I don’t think so.”
I felt my face redden. “You’re too certain of yourself!”
“A man has to be, with you.”
I ignored the glint in his eyes and slapped the reins down on the mare’s back to send her off. My back was rigid as I left the yard, certain Toby had overstepped his bounds. He had no right—well, maybe. I glanced back and saw him staring after me. With a sudden wash of happiness I considered the feeling of having someone waiting for me. It made me feel special. I liked that.
My bare feet were planted against the rough wood of the tilted front board and my toes curled against the splintery surface as I did the sorting out I needed. The leather reins lay loose in my hands, bobbing and slacking with the mare’s motion, shifting against my callused palms. I loved the language of the road.
Listening to Toby’s hopes in life, and the dreams, had made me alter some of my own convictions. I was no longer the same girl. I always thought I’d hate losing a part of myself, but this was different. Life alone loomed bleak, empty, unfulfilled. I no longer cherished the solitude I had cloaked myself in to stave off the piercing loneliness. Solitude had been a way of survival then, and I had welcomed it, but it was welcome no longer.
I knew there would be a great deal of learning involved. And a greater need for patience and tolerance. We were both prideful and prickly to a fault, always quick to hackle. But it was plumb foolish to deny the only man I could wish to share my life with was Toby. So I quit denying it, and accepted it.
The turmoil slid away. Intense relief flooded through me, leaving me weakly surprised at my response. I hadn’t been fighting Toby, I’d been fighting myself.
“Lonnie Ryan, you’ve been a fool,” I said to myself, and was content.