Suzanne bent over the campfire, stirring up the stew she had brought along. Luke was rubbing down the horses, while Hank leaned back on a flat rock, smoking his pipe and studying the dying sunset.
“Pretty sight, isn’t it?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the raspberry glow settling over the mountaintop.
“It’s beautiful,” she sighed, glancing at the breathtaking sunset. “Pa, I love it here.”
Hank stared at her and suddenly his gray eyes held a sheen of tears. He looked back at the fire. “The older you get,” he said slowly, “the more you look like your mother.”
Suzanne’s eyes flew back to him. She was pleased by his compliment because her mother had been one of the prettiest women she’d ever known. She had inherited her mother’s fair skin and blond hair, but she longed for her round face and her beautiful light blue eyes, like the sky in early morning.
“You’ve told me I sound like her, but I’m not as pretty. I know that.”
He glanced at her. “Yes, you are. You’re not as delicate perhaps, but God knew what He was doing. You had to be more hardy to survive here.”
Suzanne heard him speak those words and, fearing that he was thinking back to that awful blizzard that had led to her mother’s death, she rushed to fill the silence.
“Tell me about when you first met her. I love hearing that story.” She glanced at Luke to see if he was listening. He was feeding the horses but was still within earshot.
“Abigail was about your age when I first spotted her. I had ridden into Denver from the ranch where I was working. My boss’s wife needed a bolt of cloth to make clothes for their new baby. ‘Just ask Mrs. Ferguson,’ I was told.”
He shook his head, glancing at the clouds. “I didn’t know anything about women’s cloth, and I was scared to death I wouldn’t find this Mrs. Ferguson. Sure enough, I didn’t. She was sick that day, but her daughter was working in her place.”
He looked at Suzanne, and his gray eyes began to twinkle. “Found out her daughter was named Abigail, and she was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. I was lucky she knew as much about choosing cloth for baby clothes as her mother, maybe more.”
“Ma was a wonderful seamstress.” Suzanne smiled proudly. “Too bad I have none of her talent.”
“Well, she had enough for both of you,” he sighed. “The clothes she made for you and her…”
Suzanne leaned forward, wondering if he was thinking about the overloaded wagon they’d brought on their first trip out.
“If you’re still worrying about making us throw out the trunk that day—we forgave you. Besides, you warned us we were packing too many dresses. And I know it was either that trunk of extra dresses or our trunk of food that had to go. Ma said she could make us more dresses.”
But she never did, Suzanne thought sadly.
Hank shook his head, angrily tapping the ashes from his pipe. “It was the worst thing I ever did. If I hadn’t been mad at the team and the weather and that sorry wagon wheel, I’d never have thrown out those trunks to make it on…”
“Pa, you threw out your trunk with the books and rodeo stuff! Will you stop being a martyr? Besides”—she leaned back, crossing her arms—“let’s just dwell on the good memories. And we have plenty of those.”
He looked across the dwindling fire. “I was blessed to have all those years with your mother. I still miss her, but I thank God for you. You’ve made us both proud.”
She stared at him, suddenly at a loss for words. Her father rarely got sentimental. He looked so frail by the firelight. Suzanne wondered if his compliment was somehow an admission of his own failing health—that he might not be around long enough to say the things he really felt.
“Everything’s going to be all right,” she spoke softly. “I believe that, and you must believe it, too.”
He nodded. “I know.” He stroked his gray beard thoughtfully. “We gotta hold on, keep believing we’ll get all these problems worked out.”
She reached over and touched his hand. “We will work them out, Pa.”
They ate quietly. The past week had begun to take its toll on Suzanne. By the time the water was hot for washing dishes, she was nodding off.
Hank and Luke seemed tired as well, and yet the silence that slipped over them was a contented one as the soft darkness sealed them into a cozy circle near the sputtering campfire.
Hank offered Suzanne the wagon bed, saying he’d spent too many nights sleeping under the stars to pass this one up. She didn’t argue, and she wearily crawled into the wagon bed and was asleep in minutes.
When she rolled over the next morning and peered at the sunlight seeping through the slats of the wagon, she felt a warm joy spreading through her. Why? She sat up, wondering why she felt so happy on this particular morning.
Then, as if in answer, Luke’s voice drifted to her. She heard the pop of the morning campfire and smelled bacon sizzling. Lifting her arms above her head, she stretched lazily. The events of the previous day and evening sifted through her mind, and she smiled to herself. Luke seemed to care for her, and he had been wonderful to Pa. He was exactly what they needed in their lives. If only…
Reaching for her hand mirror, she stared into a pair of shining gray eyes framed by a tousled mass of blond hair. She opened the lid of the trunk, searching for her brush. Underneath the pantaloons, she retrieved the brush and began to rake out the tangles. Once her hair was smooth and gleaming, she decided not to tie it back. She liked the way Luke glanced at her hair. Though he’d never said anything, she had an idea he admired it when she wore it unbound.
She dressed quickly, choosing her blue cotton. Spreading her hands over the skirt, her fingers worked at the wrinkles, trying to smooth them out. After she had done the best she could within the confines of the wagon, she emerged and glanced around.
Pa and Luke sat at the campfire as Luke cooked their breakfast. When Luke spotted her, he nodded politely and inclined his head toward the back of the wagon.
“There’s a pan of water on the tailgate of the wagon,” Luke said, as his eyes swept over her.
“Thank you.” She smiled. “Pa, how do you feel?”
He was perched on the same rock where he had sat the night before, contentedly sipping his coffee.
“Like I could break the wildest mustang in the west!”
Luke grinned at him, and Suzanne merely shook her head as she made her way to the back of the wagon to splash water onto her face.
Just as they had done the previous evening, she and Pa prepared to say grace before eating. Suzanne noticed that Luke did not bow his head, and this made her uncomfortable. Hank seemed not to notice. Perhaps ignoring him was the best way to handle Luke’s strange moods.
Luke ate his food in silence. Suzanne wondered if their prayer had brought on his dark mood. And why? she wondered. She soon gave up trying to start conversation.
After he’d shoved down his meal, Luke hurried to get the team ready to travel. Suzanne met her father’s eyes across the campfire.
“Pa, what’s wrong with him?” Suzanne asked under her breath.
Hank winked at her. “He’s just doing some soul searching. Leave him be.”
“I intend to,” she snapped, hopping up from the campfire and grabbing the dishes to be washed.
Luke’s mood improved once they were on the road and Hank brought up the subject of horses.
“I got a lot of dreams for that little ranch,” Hank said. “There’s wild horses up that canyon behind our house. The mustang I was chasing…” His voice droned on, and Suzanne’s mind wandered. Luke, on the other hand, was mesmerized by the subject of mustangs.
She had given Pa her seat on the wagon and slipped back to tidy up the wagon bed. She knew both she and Luke were facing a challenge once they arrived in Colorado Springs. She and Pa must face the truth about his heart, whatever that was—and Luke would finally confront his father.
A stiffness settled into her shoulders, and she took a deep breath. The next few days could change all of their lives.
She reached into her trunk and pulled out the worn family Bible she had tucked in before leaving. Reverently, she turned the pages, tissue-soft from years of use. She found a comforting chapter in Psalms and began to read. Slowly, the headache that had threatened went away, and she began to relax.
At their lunch break, Suzanna was ready to engage in spirited conversation with her father, while Luke looked as though he needed some time in the bed of the wagon. Occasionally, he rubbed his forehead, as though he might have a headache.
“Wouldn’t you like to grab a quick nap?” she asked, giving him a smile as she washed up the dishes.
He shook his head. “I’ll catch up on my rest once I get back to Kansas.”
The words struck her like a blow, and she turned quickly, scrubbing hard on the eating utensils. What had she hoped for, expected? Whatever it had been, she was obviously dreaming. Luke was determined to go back to Kansas! And why did he keep making a point of it, anyway? Nobody was going to beg him to stay, certainly not her or her pa.
Well, maybe he and his father will patch up their differences, a hopeful voice argued. But what if they did? If he stayed in Colorado Springs, she’d never see him either.
She fought against the depression creeping over her as she packed the cooking utensils beside the first-aid kit in the bed of the wagon. The joy she had felt had been snatched away by Luke’s matter-of-fact statement about returning to Kansas.
Hank was putting out the fire when Suzanne came around the wagon. Their eyes met briefly before she busied herself checking to see that everything was packed. He seemed to sense the tension between her and Luke.
“What if I relieve you driving for a while?” Hank offered as Luke hitched the team to the wagon.
“No, sir. You’d better not strain yourself.” He led Smoky around to the back of the wagon to tether him. “But I wouldn’t mind hearing more stories about those mustangs,” he called back.
That meant Luke wanted her pa to sit on the seat beside him. Well, she could take a hint! She crawled into the bed of the wagon and said nothing more to Luke. If she was not going to be seeing him again, she had to protect herself from any more heartache. The less she had to do with Luke, the better off she would be.
She closed her eyes and tried to sleep as they jostled toward their destiny.
Colorado Springs had been founded in 1871 by General William Palmer. General Palmer had envisioned Colorado Springs, situated at the base of Pikes Peak, as a resort where the dry air and high altitude would help those suffering from tuberculosis. He further intended this town to be a cultural center, with an opera house, fine dining establishments, and European-style hotels. Mattie had told her all about the town, having wintered here with her husband when they’d first come to Colorado. Then they had decided to migrate south to open the trading post.
“Old Man Palmer had no idea, when he designed the town, that the gold rush and the railroad would bring in so many roughnecks!” Mattie had laughed.
Suzanne found herself missing Mattie. If she was along, she would make them laugh, maybe give her a little advice about how to forget Luke Thomason!
As their wagon clattered down Cascade Avenue, Suzanne stared in awe at the mansions—mostly wood, with a few made of stone. Lace curtains fluttered at the windows, and some of the porches had lovely flower boxes. Someday, she vowed, their ranch house would look like a real home.
She studied the women coming and going. Wearing fancy hats and beautiful dresses, they lolled along the sidewalk, silk parasols in hand, ready to protect their delicate faces if the sun should pop out.
Suzanne shrank back in the wagon, unwilling to be reminded of how little she now owned.
The wagon pulled up before a modest building. Suzanne knew from the conversation between her pa and Luke that this was the office of Dr. Horace Crownover, the physician Doc Browning had arranged for her father to see.
She took a deep breath, forgetting fashion and lovely ladies, and she prayed Dr. Crownover would be able to help Pa.