The April sun shone warm and bright on Luke’s face as he led the ox across the yard.
“Hey, Luke, I’m almost as tall as you,” Case chirped from his perch on the ox’s back.
The kid had been hinting around that he’d like to ride since they walked out to the barn after breakfast. Luke couldn’t see any harm in it, and it meant an awful lot to the boy. Fact was, it would be good for Case to build up his strength, besides giving him a working knowledge of handling an animal.
Luke had settled the boy securely behind the ox’s bony neck and looped a thick leather strap around Case’s waist and tied it to the ox’s harness. No way the kid was in any danger.
Still, Luke shot several nervous glances toward the house as they plodded along. He didn’t figure Deborah would take to the sight too kindly.
Case, however, was in raptures.
“Look, Luke,” he squealed. “I’m controlling him. I really am. You can let go of the lead. I won’t let him run off.”
Luke grinned. The ox, Esau they called him, wouldn’t run off if they set fire to his tail. Wasn’t in his nature. He was so mild-mannered you could let him loose in the house.
Didn’t seem right to remind Case of the facts. He was having too fine a time.
Luke looked Case square in the eye. “You think you can hold him?” he asked in a tone that suggested a hint of doubt. “Esau’s a pretty big fella.”
Case’s eyes widened. “I can do it, Luke,” he answered gravely. “I can hold him.”
Luke paused, as if considering the idea for a moment, then made a show of handing Case the lead. “He’s all yours.”
Case accepted the leather strap with a solemn nod and gripped it tightly with both hands. Esau, unconcerned about the change in command, continued his course at the same lumbering, deliberate pace.
Once they’d reached the spot Luke had marked off for the kitchen garden, he stepped into Esau’s path and the ox stopped.
“I did it!” Case cried. “I rode by myself. Did you see, Luke? Esau stopped, just like I wanted him to.”
Luke bit back a smile. “Fine handling of the animal. If we can get Deborah to come around to the idea, I’ll teach you to ride my horse.”
Case’s eyes looked ready to pop from his head. “Do you mean it? You’d let me ride Horse?”
Luke nodded as he untied the strap from Case’s waist and leaned forward to pick him up. Case wrapped his skinny white arms around Luke’s neck and squeezed hard as Luke lifted him off Esau’s back.
“You’re the greatest, Luke,” Case whispered into his ear. “I’ll bet there’s nothing you can’t do.”
Seems like Luke’d get accustomed to the boy’s hugs, seeing as how he was getting them regularly, but Luke doubted he ever would. There was something so sweet in the spontaneous embraces. They were quick, no more than a second or two, but for those brief moments, Luke felt a part of something he’d been standing outside of his whole life.
Luke lowered Case to the ground, pausing a second for him to stabilize before releasing him. Never still for a minute, Case fluttered around Luke while he attached the old iron plow to Esau’s harness, jabbering about every little thing that flitted into his imaginative mind.
Did Luke hear that rustling under that cluster of weeds? Did Luke think it was a critter or a snake? Did Luke know that Debs hated snakes above everything? Didn’t Luke think that weed had the prettiest leaves?
By the time Luke was ready to plow, Case was drooping. The combination of the excitement from the ride and all the chattering had worn the kid out. Luke had seen the signs before, Case’s already pale little face grew paler still, and his limp was more pronounced.
“Tell you what. Why don’t you sit down over there?” Luke said, pointing to a spot well out of his way, some fifteen feet from where he’d be plowing. “Soon as Esau and I get this ground plowed up, you and I can practice some whittling.”
“Whittling? With a knife?”
Something about the kid’s obvious delight in the smallest things touched Luke’s heart. “Yes, with a knife. But you’ve got to promise to sit still till then—otherwise the deal’s off.”
Case limped as quickly as he could carry his exhausted body and dropped obediently onto the spot Luke indicated. “I’ll be still. I won’t even say a word.”
Luke coughed to cover his laugh. The way he figured it, if the kid didn’t talk, he’d probably explode.
The ground was hard and packed from too little rain. Standing behind the ox and plow, his gloved hands gripping the iron handles, Luke pierced the rock-hard soil with the blade of the plow, and he and Esau began the slow, difficult work of plowing. It was a small plot of land, not more than a tenth of an acre, but it was several hours of arduous labor before he pulled Esau to a halt and looked over the freshly turned earth with satisfaction. True to his word, Case remained silent the entire time. Luke thought he’d fallen asleep he was so still, but a glance over his shoulder indicated the child watched his slow progress with eagle-eyed attention. Luke knew he shouldn’t be surprised. The kid was interested in everything.
Luke pulled his hat off and mopped the sweat from his face with his sleeve. “You ready for some whittling?” he asked as he approached Case.
Case’s head bobbed. “You bet I am.”
Luke was relieved to see the return of some color to Case’s freckled face. He pulled his knife from its sheath on his thigh and sat down beside the boy.
Case’s eyes gleamed as bright as the shining blade. “Are you gonna let me hold it?”
Luke nodded. Case immediately reached for the knife, but Luke held it away.
“Before you use a tool, any tool, you need to understand it. A knife can be a mighty dangerous thing, and a man needs to respect it.”
Case’s eyes were glued to Luke’s face as he absorbed every word.
Luke shifted to pull a flint from his pocket. “First thing we need to do is sharpen the blade.” While he spoke Luke drew the long blade across the flint in slow, measured sweeps. “A sharp blade works best. And it’s safer.”
He carefully placed the knife in Case’s hand and showed him how to hold it. The knife handle was large for Case’s small fingers, but he was so determined, he stretched his fingers around it and satisfied Luke that his grip was steady. After they talked a few more minutes about safety, Luke pulled a short, fat stick from his back pocket, and they set to work.
Deborah balanced the basket of wet laundry on her hip so she could open the back door and step outside. Laundry was not one of her favorite tasks, but at this moment, with the washing behind her, she could reflect on her morning’s work with pleasure. She had only to hang the clothes on the line Luke had strung up for her between several posts and let the sun do the drying.
She heaved a wistful sigh. If only the sun would do the ironing.
From beneath the covered back porch, she could see the rectangle of earth Luke had been plowing up for her kitchen garden. The slight breeze carried on it the pungent scent of freshly turned soil.
The dirt looked fertile, not the dark black earth of Louisiana, but the rich reddish brown she’d come to associate with Texas. She’d brought seeds from home in anticipation of having her own garden. She couldn’t wait to begin harvesting the fresh vegetables. Combined with the few staples she’d need from the general store, she and Case would be pretty much self-sufficient.
She knew getting in a garden would be her number-one priority after she got herself and her brother settled in. However, she’d never dreamed it wouldn’t be her hard labor that brought the garden into being. What a blessing to have Luke to do the backbreaking digging.
Luke a blessing? Deborah could almost laugh at the thought. When she’d first seen him several weeks ago, she’d thought the grim-faced Indian was a demon from hell. And, for a time, her opinion of him went steadily downhill from there.
Slowly, her opinion had begun to change. She wouldn’t go so far as to say she liked Luke, but she had come to respect him. He was clean, hardworking, and reliable. He seemed to know his way around a ranch and had been invaluable in helping her set the place to rights.
He was even good with Case. In spite of his size, he was patient and gentle with her little brother. Not that she appreciated any of his impertinent suggestions on how she should be raising him, but Luke did seem to have a great deal of insight into boys.
And Case adored him. Deborah put down her basket and stepped to the end of the porch to look out toward the place where Case and Luke now sat with their backs to the house. She couldn’t imagine a more unlikely pair than the two of them, a small, frail boy who chattered incessantly and a tall, proud Indian who rarely spoke.
Yet, she marveled, somehow they’d bonded. Since that unfortunate scene in the barnyard when they’d had words over her brother, Luke and Case had become inseparable. Not that Luke had any choice in the matter. Case spent every spare moment at the Indian’s side, dogging his steps like a persistent gnat.
The thought should bother her, but somehow it didn’t. After all, Luke understood clearly her objective to give her brother a normal life and supported her in it.
There had been no more talk of guns or weapons. Luke had obviously seen the error of his ways. Deborah need not fear that Luke would somehow foist his violent ways onto her brother.
Case’s clear laughter rang out in the quiet of the late morning and brought a grin to her face. Never a morose child, Case had seemed to blossom with his association with Luke. She might as well admit it, Luke was a blessing.
She heard Case laugh and an answering chuckle from Luke. Drawn by the merriment, Deborah left her basket on the porch to join them.
While she’d never master Luke’s skill of silent motion, she congratulated herself that she did come up on them undetected, though if she were honest she’d admit it was probably because her brother’s chatter masked any noise she’d made.
“What are you two doing?” she asked brightly.
Case swiveled around, a long-bladed knife clasped in his hand. “Oh, hi, Debs. I didn’t hear you come up.” He pointed the knife, as an extension of his arm, toward the garden plot. “Luke finished your garden.”
“W—w—what is that?” she squeaked. She wasn’t sure how she was able to speak, as she was certain her heart had ceased to beat.
Case pointed the knife toward her, the vicious-looking blade glinting in the sunlight. “It’s Luke’s knife. Isn’t it great?”
She couldn’t answer. No air would come from her lungs. She couldn’t breathe. She simply stared.
Her brother, rightly interpreting her silence, said, “Don’t worry, Debs. It’s real sharp.”
Dark spots suddenly blurred her vision. She blinked twice to clear them, but they multiplied. Her limbs went from lead to water, and she started to fall.
“Deborah? Debs, are you okay?”
Deborah blinked, trying to focus her strangely blurred vision. Two deeply concerned faces loomed over hers. “What’s going on? Where am I?”
“You fainted, Debs,” Case crowed in awed appreciation as only a young boy could. “You woulda hit the ground, too, if Luke hadn’t caught you. Boy, did he move fast. Scooped you up in mid-fall like you were a feather or something. He carried you into the house and laid you on the bed so you could rest.” Case frowned. “Are you tired, Debs?”
Fainted? For years her mother despaired over the fact Deborah couldn’t fall into a swoon as all gently bred young women did. Now, all of a sudden, she fainted?
Images flooded back to her. Case and Luke laughing. Case wielding a huge, sharp knife. Luke’s huge, sharp knife.
She sat up abruptly, causing the room to spin. She locked her elbows, ignoring the dizziness as she said, “Case, dearest, would you go get started on your lessons? Luke and I have something to discuss.”
Case shrugged. “Okay, if you want me to. Seems like you two always have something to discuss.”
She waited until he’d disappeared around the corner before unloading on Luke. “What were you thinking?” she hissed in a venomous whisper, mindful that her brother was nearby.
Luke looked bewildered.
She was too angry to elaborate, so she repeated, “Just what were you thinking?”
After a long silent moment, Luke’s frown eased, the confusion on his face clearing. “Oh, I get it. It’s about that touching thing, isn’t it? You’re mad because I carried you into the house.”
The only sound she could make sounded amazingly like that of a teapot reaching a boiling point.
Luke apparently took the hissing squeal as affirmation. “I didn’t want to leave you lying in the dirt.” An unexpected grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Besides, I didn’t think I’d be setting too good of an example for the boy by dragging you by the hair.”
He thought this was funny? He instructed her precious brother in the ways of violence, nearly killed her with fright, and then laughed about it?
“Get out,” she growled. When he opened his mouth to protest, she pointed to the door and screamed, “Get out!”