Authors: Christina Cole
Her voice trailed off. She knew by the look on his face that
Tom wasn’t listening to a word she said. His attention was totally riveted on
Faith.
“Here, do you want to hold her?” With a lump in her throat,
Lucille handed the baby to him. At once, Faith’s face broke into a smile. She
gurgled and cooed, obviously delighted to be in her uncle’s strong, secure
arms. Maybe blood ties were stronger than people even guessed. How else could
anyone explain the immediate bond between Faith and Tom?
“Lucille,” he asked, stroking Faith’s cheek. “I was
wondering…maybe we could set up these lessons at Ma’s cabin? She could spend a
little time with her grand-daughter while I go over my reading and writing.”
“I don’t think that would be a very good idea.”
“Why not?”
Lucille fumbled for a logical answer. She’d come to care for
Faith, maybe more than she should, but sooner or later, she’d have to give the
little girl back to Tom and his mother.
Until then, she meant to keep Faith to herself. She resented
the idea of sharing what precious time she had with anyone else, least of all
with Charlotte.
“It would be entirely too inconvenient, don’t you see?”
“Not really.”
“You’re working again, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “I helped build the new sheriff’s office, and
next I’m going to give Jake Walker a hand with a little construction work. But
that’s only temporary. I’ll probably get hired on at the J Bar K when they
start the fall round-up. Of course, that will be temporary, too.” His brows
knitted together. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Well, you see, it’s late when you end the day. Faith needs
to be in bed. It wouldn’t do for me to be gallivanting across the countryside
with her.” She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin a few inches into the
air. “Besides, it’s September, the evenings are getting cool, and you don’t
want Faith getting a chill, do you? Little ones take sick awfully quick. Not to
mention the fact that it wouldn’t be safe for me either. I mean, seriously,
Tom, do you really think a single young woman should be driving alone after
sundown?”
“I could pick you up. And bring you back.”
“It still wouldn’t work, for all the other reasons I
mentioned. I’m sorry, but either we do the lessons here, or I can’t help you.
And if your mother really wants to see Faith, she can come to call during the
day.”
Charlotte wouldn’t do it. Not that Lucille blamed her.
Visiting wouldn’t be the same as having Faith in her home. When
visiting
, she’d be under the watchful
eyes of both Lucille and Olive. Her every move would be scrutinized. Every word
listened to. It would be awkward, at best, impossible, at worst, but those were
the terms.
“Or maybe you could pay a call on her.” Tom’s eyes and voice
both pleaded, but Lucille refused to give in.
“I’ll think about it.” She had no intention of ever setting
foot in Charlotte Henderson’s home again. “I’ve got to take Faith upstairs now.
She’ll be fussy tomorrow if she doesn’t get enough sleep.” She reached out and
Tom carefully placed the child in her outstretched arms.
“You know, Lucille, you’ll make a good mother,” he said. His
eyes swept over her form.
She blushed beneath his gaze. “Yes, I hope to have a large
family someday.” Turning away, she quickly carried Faith upstairs.
When she came down again, Tom had returned to the chair.
Lucille paused at the bottom step, struggling to understand the confused
feelings he brought out from deep inside of her. She liked him, but always
there was that persistent feeling that she
shouldn’t
care about him, all those worries that folks might think less of her if she
showed any real interest in a man like Tom.
What sort of man was Tom Henderson, really? From her vantage
point on the stairway, she studied him carefully. Handsome, yes, and sure
enough, he knew it. But looks alone did not make a man. There was so much more
to the cowboy, she’d learned.
He played hard, but he worked hard, too. He showed the world
a devil-may-care attitude, but she wondered now if perhaps beneath the dimpled
smile and light-hearted words, a far more serious side existed. She wanted to
get to know him better.
“We’ll start with learning letters in the alphabet,” she
told him as she swept into the parlor. “I’ll show you how to write them, teach
you the sounds they represent.”
He came to his feet at once. “I’ll do my best, Miss
Lucille.”
Two hours later, she closed the book, quite pleased by the
progress Tom had already made in such a short time. “You’re a lot smarter than
you give yourself credit for,” she told him.
“I pick up on things real quick.”
“It’s more than that. Your mother might not have seen to it
that you had any formal education, Tom, but she did teach you how to speak
correctly. To listen to you, nobody would suspect you’d never been to school.
You’ve got a good vocabulary, and you know proper grammar.”
“Well, yes, I reckon Ma did see to it that my little sister
and I knew a few things.” He smiled. “Thank you for that.”
“For what?”
“For giving me one good memory from my childhood, for making
me aware of one good thing my mother did.” Tom got to his feet. “Reckon I
should be getting back now. I don’t like to leave
Ma
alone too long.”
“I’ll see you to the door.”
“Can I come by again tomorrow evening? Same time?”
“Yes, of course.”
Before they reached the door, Tom stopped. He dug in his
shirt pocket, then pulled out a few copper pennies. “I don’t expect you to do
this for nothing, Lucille. Here, take this.” He reached for her hand and
pressed the coins against her palm. “It’s not much, but…”
“Don’t be silly. I’m not asking you to pay me for my
services.” The words made her blush again. Now who was throwing innuendo
around? Had Tom picked up on it? “What I mean, that is, you know I’m not a
teacher by profession. I don’t have any certificate or anything, and it
wouldn’t be right for me to ask for payment.”
“Keep the money. Use it to buy something pretty for Faith.”
His eyes softened. “Maybe you could sew her a new dress or a bonnet.” He
stepped closer.
Slowly, he lowered his head until they were so close she
could feel his warm breath against her cheek. He had a rich, masculine smell
about him. Odors of leather and sweat mingled with a deep muskiness that nearly
left her swooning.
She leaned against him, then lifted up on her toes and
brushed her lips to his.
Alarm bells clanged inside her head. Lucille knew she should
back away. She should push him right out the door and lock it behind him. She
should turn and run and never look back.
But she didn’t do any of those things.
Her lips parted. The kiss lingered between them, leading to
another, deeper kiss. His mouth pressed against her, imparting an urgency that
trembled through her entire body.
He reached out and as he pulled her toward him, she went
willingly into his embrace. His arms felt strong around her, somehow felt so
right
wrapped around her. She slid her
hands around his waist, loving the feel of the powerful muscles rippling
beneath her touch.
This was not the first time their lips had met. She’d kissed
him at the Red Mule, but that had been hasty and unplanned. Vaguely she
remembered him kissing her on the night of the statehood celebration, but she’d
been too inebriated to fully enjoy the experience. Now, she savored every
nuance, cherishing each sweet sensation, knowing this kiss they shared would
leave an indelible mark upon her heart.
Upstairs, a door opened and closed. Footsteps sounded in the
hallway.
Lucille stiffened and pushed herself away from Tom. “You’ve
got to go now.” Shock traveled through her as she fully realized what she’d
done.
“Good night,” he whispered, grinning like a jackass eating
sweet briars. “I’ll be back tomorrow for more.” With a wink, he slipped out the
door.
* * *
*
Since Faith had come into their home, Lucille and her mother
took turns alternately caring for the child and running the dressmaking shop.
Although it was her turn, the next day, to remain at home, Lucille chose to
drive into town early that afternoon. The autumn day had turned
uncharacteristically warm, and she’d taken advantage of the pleasant weather.
She cradled Faith close as she climbed the stairs, then
hurried into the mercantile. With the money Tom had given her in her
pocketbook, she eagerly looked forward to selecting a gift for Faith. She
looked forward, too, to the opportunity to show off the precious little bundle
she carried in her arms.
“She’s the most adorable baby I’ve ever seen,” Amanda
Phillips declared, pulling back the baby’s blankets to play a little game of
peek-a-boo. “And believe me, I’ve seen a lot of babies in my day.”
Lucille smiled. “She’s such a good baby. She’s already sleeping
through the night, and even though she’s only five months old, I think she’s
quite clever. Why, she giggles, and makes noises, almost as if she’s trying to
carry on a real conversation.”
A broad figure emerged from behind a tall row of shelving.
“Of course she’s clever. She’s got my blood in her veins.”
Caught by surprise, Lucille and Amanda exchanged curious
glances then looked to their left. Charlotte Henderson stood a short distance
away, glowering at both women.
“Good afternoon, Charlotte.” Lucille made every effort to be
cordial. “How nice to see you.”
“Forget the pleasantries. It’s all a damned lie, and we both
know it. You’re no more glad to see me than you’d be to greet a grizzly bear,
and I reckon that’s about how you see me, isn’t it?” She made a snorting,
growling noise, and took a step toward Lucille.
Lucille instinctively backed away. So did Amanda.
“You know, I’m going to get my baby back.” She nodded toward
the blanketed-bundle.
“Don’t be silly, Charlotte.” Lucille’s laugh sounded forced.
“She isn’t
your
baby.”
“She sure as shooting isn’t
yours
either, and don’t you dare take that condescending attitude
with me, young lady. Didn’t your folks ever teach you to respect your elders?”
“Yes, of course, but only if they deserve respect,” Lucille
retorted. Turning her back to Charlotte, she headed for the door.
“I’m warning you,” Charlotte’s voice called after her.
“You’d better keep a close eye on that baby, Miss McIntyre, because I will be
watching. If you turn your back for even a moment, I’ll take her away from
you.”
Lucille felt a hand on her shoulder. Startled, she jumped,
then with relief, saw Amanda standing at her side.
“Pay her no mind,” Amanda advised. “She’s all talk. It’s
obvious she’s been drinking.”
“Yes, I’m sure she has.”
She thought again of Tom’s suggestion that they conduct his
reading and writing lessons at the cabin so that Charlotte could spend time
with her granddaughter. More grateful than ever that she hadn’t allowed Tom’s
pleas to sway her, Lucille knew she’d done the right thing. She would never let
Charlotte get close to Faith. Just because the woman was blood-kin didn’t give
her rights she didn’t deserve.
When Tom arrived that evening, she said nothing to him about
the encounter with his mother. In fact, she soon forgot all about it, so taken
was she by the man’s undeniable charm.
As the lessons continued over the following weeks, Lucille
enjoyed the time they spent together. His natural intelligence surprised her.
Tom was a quick learner.
He was also a true gentleman, she realized, trying to hide
her disappointment when he made no further attempts to kiss her.
* * * *
September slipped away. The days grew shorter, the nights
cooler, and the people in and around Sunset prepared for the coming winter.
Lucille dreaded the approach of the holiday season and the memories of her
father’s death, yet she felt a keen anticipation, as well.
Because of Faith, and also because of Tom.
There would be celebrations throughout town at Thanksgiving
and at Christmas. Secretly she hoped Tom might suggest they attend together.
She truly enjoyed his company.
On Thursday evening, Lucille dressed in a most becoming
frock. She took a bit more time than usual to brush her hair and arrange it in
what she hoped was an alluring fashion. Tom would come by that evening for his
next lesson, and as always, she found herself eagerly awaiting his arrival.
Time and again, as she paced the foyer, she stopped in front of the hall mirror
and glanced toward her reflection, checking her appearance.
The sun had nearly gone down when, at last, she heard
footsteps on the porch. Her ears perked up even as an odd sense of
disappointment rushed in. The footsteps were unfamiliar ones. Too light and too
quick to belong to a man like Tom Henderson.
When the bell rang and she opened the door to see a young
boy standing there, she knew her regret showed.