Luke had gone for a walk, ending up down behind the house near a stream. He propped his shoulder against a cottonwood trunk and allowed the spring breeze to soothe his frustration.
He had no right to speak to her that way, he knew it. But he was getting sick of hearing them pour out all their goodness and mercy. They were living in another world, not the real one.
Maybe they were just being nice to him, hoping he would stay on and work for them for free. Their price for saving his life. He lifted a broad hand and plowed through his thick hair. If only he had some money to give them, but he had nothing.
He recalled how he had been suckered in at the Godfrey ranch. William Godfrey had been a decent man, generous with his ranch hands, and kind to Luke. Then Amanda Godfrey, the old maid daughter, had set her eyes and her hopes on him, and all the trouble had started. She had been determined to have him, and she really thought it would be easy to hook him. She’d even told him so.
He sighed and began to walk toward the corral where he spotted Smoky, prowling restlessly. He hadn’t figured Mr. Godfrey would go back on his word, but then blood was thicker than water, as Ma used to say.
He looked back at the Waters’ cabin and wondered if they were setting that kind of trap for him. They seemed like kind, decent folks, but so had the Godfreys.
No, he couldn’t take any chances. He’d help them out for a day or two, he owed them that. Then he’d find a job along the route to Colorado Springs. He could get a job; he’d been working since he was twelve years old.
“Hey, boy,” he called to his horse.
The big horse trotted to the fence, thrusting his head forward to nuzzle Luke.
“Glad to see me, aren’t you?”
He stroked the horse’s gleaming coat, looking him over. “Looks like someone’s taking care of you all right. We’ll be leaving soon. We don’t stay cramped up long, do we?”
He drew a deep breath of fresh air into his lungs, enjoying the smell of evergreen that mingled on the breeze. He wouldn’t lose his temper again; he wouldn’t insult her. He had no right. But she got to him as no other woman had. He couldn’t stop looking at her, and now she was popping up in his thoughts when he should be thinking of more important things. Like remembering the reason he was headed to Colorado Springs.
Sundays had always been special days for Suzanne and her parents. In Denver most of their Sundays had been the same: church services followed by large Sunday dinners where family and friends gathered to enjoy food and fellowship. While their surroundings had changed drastically when they had taken up ranch life, one thing had not changed. Sundays were days of worship.
In the beginning, Suzanne’s mother had simply brought out the family Bible and read scripture. Sometimes they sang a hymn, other times they prayed quietly. Then, Iva Parkinson had come calling, inviting them to Trails End on Sunday for a service held on the front porch of their ranch home. Soon that had become the tradition for the community.
At first it had been difficult for Hank and Suzanne to go to Trails End Ranch without Abigail. But after that first dreadful Sunday, when they’d spent the day mourning Abigail, Hank had informed Suzanne that her mother would expect them to go to worship. Missing Abigail more than ever the next Sunday, they had dressed and gone to Trails End to join in community worship and had not missed a Sunday since.
“Will you be going over to the Parkinson’s ranch today?” Hank asked as Suzanne stood at the stove, stirring the breakfast gravy.
She yawned. “Yes, but I think you could be excused.”
“I think so, too,” he quickly agreed.
Suzanne smiled. If she had suggested that he go, he would have joined her, but she thought it was best for him to stay home. “I’ll tell them you’ll be back next week,” she said.
He glanced toward the closed door of the bedroom. “Luke is sleeping late.”
Luke! Suzanne’s fingers stiffened as she popped open a biscuit and spread gravy over it. She had not told her father the vicious words the man had spoken yesterday. He had avoided her ever since, and she was glad for that. She knew how to apply alcohol and cotton and bandage to an outer wound. But this man had something festering in his soul. It would take a mightier power than she to heal that kind of wound, but Luke Thomason didn’t want to read their verses or hear anything about the love of God.
She sat down at the table, nibbling on a small biscuit. She had left a larger one on the stove, in case their grumpy guest decided he was hungry. She glanced across the table at Pa. He is strangely quiet this morning, suspiciously quiet, she thought.
“What time is it?” she asked.
He withdrew the gold watch Ma had given him and studied the numerals on its face.
“Eight o’ clock.”
“I’d better get dressed.”
Later, as she hurried through the living room, grabbing up her Bible, she met Luke’s stare from the bedroom door.
“Good morning,” he said, his tone cool, reserved.
His hair was neatly combed and his face bore evidence of a recent shave. The mustache was gone. She liked his face even better without the mustache.
“Good morning,” she said.
He was looking her up and down, his eyes lingering on the front of her dress. Was something wrong, she wondered, glancing down to see if she had popped a button. No. The dress looked pretty enough, all cleaned and pressed. She loved the color—blue like a spring sky—and it complimented her gold hair and gray eyes.
Her eyes returned to him, and now he was staring at her hair. Suzanne lifted a hand, absently smoothing the hair net covering the chignon she wore today. Why was he looking at her that way? Then it came to her: this was the first time he had seen her in a dress, rather than pants and a shirt. Doing a man’s work! Hadn’t that been his expression?
She felt her cheeks bum as he continued to stare at her, and a wave of indignation swept her. He had a wife somewhere; he had no right looking at her like that, making her feel self-conscious. It was time to put the man in his place.
“Mr. Thomason, could I ask you something?”
“What is it?”
“Are you married?”
His dark brows arched at her bold question. No doubt, he was wondering what had prompted her question. She held herself erect, her eyes never wavering from his face.
“No.”
A simple word that told her nothing.
She opened her mouth to ask about the wedding band, then just as quickly she pressed her lips together. She couldn’t bring herself to mention the ring; perhaps it was pride. She didn’t want him to think she had been pilfering through his things. Actually, she had been looking for some identification, but there was no point in explaining that now.
“I left breakfast on the stove,” she said, hurrying through the front door.
The spring morning was warm, but not uncomfortable, as Suzanne cantered Nellie toward Trails End Ranch, as puzzled as ever about Luke Thomason. Then suddenly she solved the mystery of Luke and the wedding band. His wife had died! Of course. That was why he was so mad at the world, so angry and bitter. Her heart began to soften, and by the time she joined the small group assembled on the wide porch of the rambling ranch house and joined in singing “Rock of Ages,” she had forgotten her troubles.
Arthur Parkinson Jr. a tall young man of twenty who still had not grown into his hands and feet, slipped into the chair beside Suzanne. He turned to grin at her, and she smiled politely, never missing a word of the hymn.
Why couldn’t she feel something more than friendship for Art? she wondered as his pale blue eyes kept sneaking in her direction. He was nice, polite, well mannered. Single. And rich, Pa had reminded her. As the only son of the largest landowner in the area, Art had something to offer.
She sidled a glance at him. He sang in a clear tenor, but she didn’t like the way his Adam’s apple always bobbed against his collar. In fact, it was the largest Adam’s apple she’d ever seen.
She turned her attention to Arthur Parkinson Sr., a tall, distinguished-looking man in his fifties. He stood with his Bible, ready to read scripture. She could see a vague resemblance between father and son; unfortunately, Art looked more like his mother. Suzanne scolded herself for the thought. Mrs. Parkinson was very nice—and she couldn’t help it if her eyes bulged just a bit.
Suzanne had settled Nellie in the corral, rewarding her with a handful of oats from the dwindling supply, and headed to the house. She had spotted Pa and Luke on the porch as she turned up the path. From the way Pa’s mouth was moving, she figured he had filled Luke Thomason’s head this morning.
Once she reached the house, she saw it was Luke who was doing the talking. Hank, for once, was doing the listening.
“My grandfather bought land and cattle from the Mexicans in southeast Texas,” Luke was saying. “He was an immigrant who came west with only a few dollars in his pockets.”
“So did he get rich?” Hank inquired.
Again that pause that Suzanne had come to expect from Luke when questioned about a personal matter.
“No, he went broke. And he drifted north to Kansas.”
“What happened there?” Hank asked, conversationally.
“He died a pauper.”
An awkward silence followed. Then Hank turned to his daughter. “Did you pray for us, daughter?”
“Of course,” she replied, allowing her smile to extend from her father to Luke for a brief moment. “Mrs. Parkinson was in true form this morning, missing all the high notes to ‘Rock of Ages’.”
Hank laughed heartily, appreciating her humor, but Luke’s mouth merely twitched.
“And did Art sneak a seat beside you?” Hank demanded good-naturedly, winking at Luke. “Parkinson’s son has a crush on Suzanne.”
“Pa!” she reprimanded sharply, lifting her skirt to plant a kid leather slipper on the slab log step.
Slowly, her eyes slid to Luke as she reminded herself that she had asked God to forgive her for being so judgmental of the man. She was going to be more patient with him.
As Suzanne continued to the porch, Luke came to his feet. She might object to his grumpiness at times, but he had offered to help around the house. She supposed that he did have nice manners. She appreciated that. Her mother has always told her to seek a man with manners.
“Are you men hungry?” she asked.
“I could eat,” Hank answered.
“No, I’m not hungry at all,” Luke replied, turning his blue eyes toward the distant mountain range.
Good, Suzanne thought, I won’t have to add more gravy to the last of the venison roast. She entered the house, humming “Rock of Ages,” determined to hold on to her good mood for the rest of the day.
Luke Thomason proved to be more hungry than he’d thought, for after Hank nagged him into submission, he had joined them at the table. At first, he seemed to feel awkward and out of place—particularly when Suzanne said graces—but he began to relax as Hank broached the subject of rodeos.
“Yes, sir. I made most of my money rodeoing on weekends.”
“Ever get hurt?” Hank asked.
“Just once. Nothing serious.” He had glanced at Suzanne, who immediately pretended an interest in filling the water glasses. She had a feeling if he had broken both legs he’d never admit it. He was determined to appear as healthy as his horse.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” she whirled, water pitcher in hand. “What’s your horse’s name? I hate not being able to call him by his name when I talk to him…”
She had just given herself away. Her delight in petting the stallion, and imagining the life he and his master lived, had been her own secret until now. Now they knew she was in the habit of talking to animals!
“His name is Smoky. When people look at him, they wonder where I got the name.”
“He has a smoky-looking patch on his forehead,” Suzanne guessed. “I think it’s a very good name.”
Luke half-smiled. “You’re right about the patch. That’s where he got his name.”
“And my bay is named after these wonderful mountains.”
“Rocky.” Luke nodded. “That, too, is a good name.”
“But not as good as Nellie,” Suzanne countered, enjoying the conversation now. She filled each glass, set the pitcher down, and took her seat again.
“And since we’re comparing names,” Luke said, “how did you settle on Nellie?”
Suzanne hesitated, glancing at her father. His gray eyes were amused as he looked across the table at her, obviously curious to see how she would answer.
“Because it suits her,” she said with a smile. “And because that was her name when we bought her, sick, half-starved, and half-price, from a desperate rancher’s wife.”
It had turned into a pleasant meal. Luke had offered to help with the dishes but she had refused. Pa had gone to the sofa; Luke had wandered off somewhere, and Suzanne had dragged to her bed as soon as the kitchen was clean. Sunday had always been a day of rest for them, and today she was looking very forward to a long nap.
She was almost asleep when her father’s voice echoed through the house.
“Suzanne!”
She heard the urgency in his tone and jumped out of bed, pulling an everyday dress on over her petticoats and chemise.
“Suzanne!” His voice came from the porch. “Hurry.”
She bolted from her room, reaching the front door just in time to see Hank fall in the yard. He landed facedown on the ground, yelping in disgust as he tried to lift his ankle.
“What are you doing?” she cried.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he snapped. “I was trying to get to the stable…”
“Pa, you know you can’t go down there. The path is filled with gopher holes and you could turn your ankle again. But you just did! What am I going to do with you?” she cried in frustration,
“Will you quit babbling and listen to me?” Hank snapped, glaring at her. “Something’s wrong with one of the horses. Hurry!” He bit the words out through clenched teeth as one hand shot to his rib cage. She wondered if he’d cracked another rib.
Suzanne leaped to her feet and saw Luke bounding out the door of the house. His eyes shot from Suzanne to Hank sprawled on the ground.
“Help him!” she cried as she tore out to the stable.
She could hear the cries of an animal in pain, and her heart jumped to her throat. She tried not to think about what she would find. From the animal’s shrill cry she envisioned a grizzly in the barn, tearing into the mare’s flesh…
She burst through the door of the stable, blinking against the dimness, giving no thought to what she would have done if, in fact, a grizzly had been loose in the barn. Instead, she came up short, her nose tingling from the tartness of straw and manure… and the mare in labor!
Blaze was down in the clean straw that Suzanne had lovingly provided the day before, her bulging abdomen heaving with the struggle of giving birth.
“Oh Blaze,” Suzanne cried, rushing to the narrow stall.
She dropped down beside the brown mare and ran her palm up and down the white star on the mare’s forehead. Like her father, Suzanne kept a special place in her heart for the horses. What if there was a complication, what if…. The horror of losing Blaze was more than Suzanne could bear.
The mare rolled her head, peering up at Suzanne with wild, pain-filled eyes. She seemed to be begging for help, and feeling more helpless than ever, Suzanne sank her teeth in her lower lip. Of all times for her father to be laid up! He would know exactly what to do here, while Suzanne’s knowledge was limited to comforting words. Why hadn’t they discussed this? she wondered, as her frustration turned to panic.
The stable door creaked and she whirled to see Luke hurrying back to the stall. A wave of relief swept over her, even though she knew his assistance was limited to one good arm. He said nothing as he looked grimly at the mare. She needed desperately to hear something encouraging, but she doubted she would hear anything very encouraging from this man, who seemed to see only the dark side.
He knelt down beside the mare, using his right hand to gently prod her side. Then he moved to the mare’s bottom to appraise the situation.
“The colt is coming,” he announced matter-of-factly, “Do you have any instruments for…”
“Pa has a black bag up at the house.”
“Please get it,” he said, as he stretched out his right hand to gently stroke the mare’s heaving side. “And tell him we can manage.”
Could they? she wondered during her flight from the stable to the house. Hank, huddled on the porch step, was firing questions as fast as he could speak.
“Blaze is in labor,” she said, rushing past him.
From inside she grabbed the black bag and a towel from the cupboard, then ran breathlessly for the stable.
Suzanne thrust the bag and towel toward Luke, then crumpled down, gasping for breath. She saw that Luke had managed to get both shirtsleeves rolled up, preparing for his role as veterinarian. Her eyes fell to his broad hand, his smooth long fingers, and her confidence was strengthened. Nevertheless, she felt compelled to ask the question that had popped into her mind during her frantic run.
“Have you ever done this?”
“Of course,” he answered tersely.
Well, how did she know? She had a right to ask, didn’t she? He shot a brief glance in her direction. “The mare does most of the work anyway,” he added.
“Oh.” She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She had no choice but to trust him; on the other hand, he could be a godsend.
“Try to keep her still,” Luke instructed.
Suzanne placed her hand on the mare’s neck and began to murmur words of comfort.
“It’s okay,” she spoke softly. “We’re going to help you get the little one here.”
The mare whinnied and made an effort to get up. Suzanne clung to her and began to chatter, saying whatever came to mind.
“We’re halfway there,” Luke called to her.
His voice floated over Blaze’s suffering body, and she thought the man sounded calm, in control. Suddenly she was very glad to have him here with her, doing the work, helping Blaze. Maybe she could put up with his grumpiness a little while longer.
The mare tossed her head back and bared her teeth in a moan of anguish. “Hang on, sweetie,” she said, wrapping her arms around the mare’s neck, “it’s almost over.”
“It is over,” Luke spoke confidently.
Suzanne looked across at him. A gleam of perspiration filled his handsome face, but the blue eyes glowed with pride. For the first time, a broad smile softened that serious mouth. “We have a hearty little male.”
“We do?” Suzanne squealed, alarming the mare with her outburst. “I’m sorry, Blaze. I didn’t mean to startle you, but you have a healthy baby.”
The mare heaved one long quivering sigh and sank into the straw, as though she understood what Suzanne had said.
Suzanne unwound her arms from the mare and crawled around to Luke. He was wrapping a towel around the colt and Suzanne stared, feeling a wave of tenderness sweep over her.
“Could I hold him?”
“Careful,” Luke instructed, placing the warm, wiggling bundle in her arms.
Suzanne touched the miniature blaze on his forehead. “He’s just like his mother. Luke, he’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen,” she said.
Luke grinned. “Yeah, he is.”
She turned to Luke, smiling warmly. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Seeing the healthy colt is thanks enough,” he said, trailing a finger down the colt’s forehead. “I’ve always felt that animals are much kinder than people. I like helping them.”
Suzanne opened her mouth to ask just why he felt that way, but something restrained her. He was such a private person, revealing so little about himself.
“I guess we should give him to his mother now,” Luke said, “if you can bear to part with him.”
Reluctantly, she handed over the colt, and Luke placed him next to Blaze. Suzanne watched, admiring how adeptly Luke managed with only his right hand. She wondered how soon he would be leaving. He had just proven he could fare for himself. He had also proven how desperate they were for help here.
A heaviness tugged at her heart as she stood, brushing the straw from her dress. “I’ll go deliver the news to Pa. He’s probably crawling down the path to the stable.”
She was surprised to hear Luke chuckle. So he was capable of laughter, after all.
“Then let me go meet him.” Luke smiled as he trotted out the door.
Suzanne’s heart was full of joy as she looked back at the new colt. She laughed as he searched eagerly for his first meal.
“Suzanne?” Luke called as she reached the door of the barn.
She turned, startled to hear her name on his lips. She hadn’t been sure he even remembered it. She looked up as he came running down the path.
“Your pa has turned his ankle again, and he may have injured his ribs as well.”
“Oh no! I don’t know what I’m going to do with him!”
“Can’t you find another ranch hand? You’ve got to have some help here.” Again that irritable tone had crept back to his voice.
“Good help is hard to come by,” she said, quoting Hank. Pride kept her from admitting the truth: there was no money for extra help. The only way they could survive was to do the work themselves. And even so, she was beginning to wonder how much longer they could hold on.
She looked at Luke and decided to be forthright. “Maybe we could work something out with you.”
He shook his head, looking away. “I have to be on my way soon.”
“Oh well.” She turned her eyes toward the door, trying to conceal her disappointment. “It was just a thought. Anyway, maybe the colt is a good sign,” she called over her shoulder then hurried out.
As she rushed up the path to check on Pa and tell him the good news, she thought again of the sturdy little colt. Sharing something so special had made her realize how lonely she was. She longed to share the joys and tears of life with someone besides her father.
She thought about Luke Thomason, wondering if there was some way they could persuade him to stay on. Even with a bandaged arm, he was far better help than any of the other drifters who hung around the post. He seemed so eager to leave, but maybe, just maybe, he would change his mind.
Luke stared after Suzanne, turning the words she had spoken over and over in his mind. Maybe he had been wrong about her and her pa trying to sucker him into staying. If they were laying a trap for him, she wouldn’t have been so nice about it when he’d said he was leaving. Would she?
He turned back to the little colt, smiling as he reached forward to gently touch him. The last hour had brought a warm and tender feeling to his heart. He was relieved to know he could still have such a feeling.
He sighed, leaning back against the straw, thinking about Suzanne again. With straw in her hair and perspiration on her upper lip, she was as appealing as ever. Her eyes had radiated such tenderness and love for the colt. He closed his eyes, wondering how he would feel if she had looked at him that way.
His eyes snapped open. Well, she wouldn’t. As for trying to snag him for a husband, the rich rancher—Parkinson, was it?—was the one she was after. Why else would someone go all the way to another ranch for a worship service? It surprised him even more that Mr. Waters was accustomed to going with her.
He snorted. Parkinson didn’t have a chance against both of them!