A Love of Her Own (16 page)

“Then I’ll go make Jane and myself something and be back directly.” Cynthia proceeded to the kitchen, leaving the two of them to talk.

“So, little miss. How do you think you’re doing? Have you tried to stand or walk?” Wes watched Jane’s reaction to his question. Her young face registered surprise, but Wes didn’t know how to be anything but direct and to the point. He wanted to get to the real reason he was there.

“Why . . . you know I can’t walk!” Jane shoved the sleeping cat off her lap, and he leaped with surprise and ran out of the room. “I can barely stand with assistance.”

“I wasn’t sure, Jane. But I have an idea. Are you interested?”

“Maybe,” Jane answered with a weak smile. “What’s your idea?”

“You know I raise horses. I thought that it might be fun to take you riding sometime—let you get some outdoor exercise. Might be good for your legs,” Wes said. “What do you think?” Jane’s face was too pale, he thought. The fresh outdoors would be good for her.

“I . . . I’m not really sure. I might fall off. Besides, I have no proper riding clothes.”

Wes opened the sack. “I have something to get you started.” He pulled out the soft leather belt and the matching brown boots. “You can wear these boots, and I guess your mother could go over to the general store and buy you a small pair of Levi’s.”

“You mean I’d have to sit astride the horse?” Jane seemed curious about the whole thing now.

“That’s the idea. I think it would help you use your leg muscles and stimulate circulation.”

“Hmm. I don’t know . . .” Jane looked at him, but he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Was it fear?

“Don’t know about what?” Cynthia said. She carried a tray laden with a silver teapot and cookies, placing them on a nearby table flanked by chairs.

“Wes has invited me to go riding!” Jane answered, taking a cookie off the tray.

“Is that so?” Cynthia poured the tea into their cups, added sugar, then handed one to Jane.

“It’ll get her outside, and the action of riding may be beneficial,” Wes said as he watched Cynthia sip her tea with a brooding eye on her daughter.

“I see. What an unusual idea. Would you enjoy that, Jane?”

Jane shrugged. “I guess so. It might be fun. I’ll go if you think it’s okay.” She held up the boots and belt. “He brought these for me to use. I’d need to ride like the men do.”

Cynthia reached down to finger the belt. “Very nice. What a clever idea.”

“If you could get her a pair of jeans and bring her over one day, say, the middle of the week, we could give it a try.” Wes stood up to leave.

“I guess there’s no harm in trying, and Mark told me that you have the best-trained horses around.” Cynthia set her cup down. “I’ll have to make arrangements for her to be taken by wagon to your place, since I work all week at the boardinghouse.”

“Don’t you worry about that, ma’am. Just leave that to me and I’ll see to it.” Wes reached for his hat and walked toward the door. “I might be able to get Billy over at the stage depot to give me a hand.”

Jane squirmed in her wheelchair. “Do you have to go? We could play checkers or something.”

Wes almost said no, but the pleading in her voice made him change his mind. “Okay, but just a couple of games. I don’t want to keep you ladies up late,” he said with a wink, making Jane laugh. “We’d be glad for the company, wouldn’t we, Jane?” Cynthia beamed at her daughter.

“Oh yes. Mother, can you pull out the checkerboard?”

“In that case, I’ll take a cup of that coffee,” Wes said, hanging his hat back up.

Soon the three of them were having a wonderful afternoon. Wes noticed more than once how the little girl seemed to manipulate her mother into jumping at her every request. But then Wes remembered she
was
crippled. When Wes got up to leave, the doorbell sounded, and he said good-bye to Jane while Cynthia greeted Mark Barnum.

She turned to Wes. “You know Dr. Barnum, don’t you, Wes?” Mark nodded, and Wes reached his hand out to shake the doctor’s. “Yes, we’ve met a time or two.”

Mark looked from Wes to Cynthia. “I hope I’m not interrupting your evening.”

Cynthia clasped her hands tightly, looking uncomfortable.

“Not at all, Doc. I was just leaving. I came by to check on Jane as a favor to Josh.”

“I see. That’s wonderful. Jane needs friends,” he said, smiling. “Wes thinks horseback riding may encourage Jane to regain the use of her legs,” Cynthia remarked.

“Is that so? Well . . .” Mark clapped Wes on the back. “It certainly can’t hurt. Good thinking, Wes.”

“Mother!” Jane yelled.

“Excuse me.” Cynthia left the two men talking and hurried back into the parlor.

Mark walked with Wes to the front door and looked at him intently.

“Is there something on your mind, Doc?”

Mark cleared his throat before speaking. “I don’t mean to interfere or be nosy, but are you planning on courting Cynthia?”

So that’s why he’d stiffened when he saw Wes there. Wes’s face broke into a wide smile. “The answer is no. It’s as I said—I really came to talk to Jane about going riding at my ranch.”

Relief flooded Mark’s face. “Wonderful. I mean, that’s good. Please don’t take offense. I’ve been trying to get to know Cynthia better since her daughter’s accident.”

Wes reached for the doorknob. “No offense taken. But you may have your hands full where her daughter’s concerned.”

Mark rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I know exactly what you mean, Wes. It’s something we’ll have to work on.”

“Be seeing you around, Doc.” Wes stepped out into the dark night and paused, listening to the night sound of the sighing wind through the trees. He dreaded going home to a cold house once again and longed for companionship. A vision of April crossed his mind.
Give it up, man! You two are from different worlds.
About the only thing they had in common was a fierce love of horses.

The more he thought about it, the more agitated he became. He needed a drink. He hadn’t been to the saloon since that night he’d been reading Scripture and wrestling with the Lord, and he’d finally accepted His Word about who He was. If it hadn’t been for Josh, he never would’ve even picked up the Good Book. But just for tonight, maybe he’d drop over to the saloon and have a quick drink before hitting the trail. One little drink couldn’t hurt, could it?

12

When April reached her room, she could hardly wait to remove the heavy, wet jeans. She had to nearly peel them off, which only made her madder than a rider being thrown from a horse. She threw them into the corner and started to unbutton the chambray shirt when she spied something draped across her bed, which mysteriously had been made while she was out.
What in the world
.
 
.
 
.
 
?
Someone had left a simple calico dress in a soft shade of rose trimmed in delicate velvet piping, and a fresh set of undergarments were laid out next to the dress. She almost squealed in delight. She had something fresh to wear! She didn’t know whether to be insulted or flattered. But Wes was right. Her clothes held an odor despite the bath in the tub of tomatoes and a rinse in the creek. The dress was an older style but looked almost new.

As she lifted the dress and held it up to herself, a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. In bold handwriting the note said:

I’m sorry for what I know I’m about to do, but you’ll
understand by the time you read this.

With regards,
Wes

April was so shocked that she thought she was going to swoon. How did he manage to do this? He couldn’t have slipped in here before she got back. Or could he? She
had
spent awhile at the creek just thinking . . .

Dare she wear the dress? Would everyone know? How did he get in?

Well, she’d worry about all that later or she’d miss the light supper in the parlor. She decided she would wear the dress, so she hurriedly took off her shirt and undergarments and got dressed. It was just a tad big in the bosom but fit her in the waist and lengthwise. It really was a pretty everyday dress, the kind her mother would wear.

April rubbed her hair dry with a towel and pinned it up. She walked over to the cheval mirror, did a quarter turn before the mirror, and was satisfied with her appearance. She’d have to talk with Wes about sending her gifts. It just wouldn’t do. But maybe no one knew but her and Wes. Her face burned at the thought of him buying undergarments. She put a hand to her midriff to calm her stomach, then inhaled deeply and started for the parlor.

“Oh, hello there, April,” Natalie said when April walked into the parlor. “You look lovely and fresh as a primrose in the meadow.”

“Hello, everyone,” April said, tilting her head to May andWil–lard, who sat in the settee across from Miss Margaret. Louise was bent over a small table slicing lemon cake. Beth was sitting on the floor with baby Anne, who played with a stack of blocks, cooing in pure enjoyment. This was the quietest the child had been since April had been around her.

“We’re glad you could join us this evening.” Louise straightened, holding the knife in one hand with her other hand cupped beneath to keep the crumbs from falling to the floor. “We do things informal on Sundays. We only cook one meal on the Sabbath.”

“Yes, so I heard. Can I help you serve the cake and sandwiches?” April surprised herself in asking, but the question suddenly rolled off her tongue.

Louise’s face showed surprise as well. “Thank you. Natalie is so engrossed in the book she has her head stuck in.” Louise glanced at her sister with a frown, who poked her tongue out at Louise, then smiled impishly. Louise just shook her head. “You can start with the egg sandwiches, April.” She indicated the plate next to the cake. “If you could just put one on each of the plates stacked there and hand them out, that would be a help.”

April moved toward the platter and began picking up the sandwiches, trying to be mindful of the egg filling that oozed out when she lifted each one. She was tempted to lick her fingers but refrained.

“How was your afternoon?” Miss Margaret asked, taking the offered plate from April.

She hesitated, wondering how she should answer without telling about the scene with Wes. Finally, she said, “Good. I just went for a ride with Billy in the countryside.”

“That’s nice. It was a good day for that,” Louise remarked and continued cutting the cake.

“You look lovely in that shade of rose, April.” May smiled up at her in her engaging way.

Miss Margaret agreed. “It becomes you.” April noticed Miss Margaret’s soft, wrinkly face held just a hint of a tease, and her gray eyes danced.

“Well, thank you, Mrs. Wingate. It’s very comfortable, which is a lot for me to say about a dress.”

“Please just call me May, and I’m sure Willard would be just as happy if you’d call him by his first name, right, dear?”

“By all means. Mr. Wingate sounds old and stuffy!” His breathing labored as though he had just run a foot race. April watched him take another bite, leaning over a well-formed belly that seemed to perch on his lap.

May tilted her head at him and teased, “Which is exactly what you are!”

Willard wiped his perspiring brow with his handkerchief and winked at his wife. “Watch out, woman, or I’ll have to haul you upstairs and take you upon my knee! Now pass me a nice thick slice of Miss Margaret’s lemon cake.”

There he goes again with his innuendoes,
April thought.
Do
married people really talk to each other like that?
Her parents certainly didn’t.

“How about you, Beth? Care for an egg salad sandwich?” Natalie left her novel to assist April.

Beth rose from the floor and took the plate. “Don’t mind if I do. It looks delicious and so does the cake, Natalie.”

Natalie rolled her eyes toward Louise. “I can’t take credit for the cake. Louise made it.”

Miss Margaret laid her needlework aside and picked up her sandwich. “Louise has become sort of an expert when it comes to cake baking.” She beamed at her daughter. “In fact, she made Josh and Juliana’s wedding cake.”

April watched as Louise’s face burned pink. “Really? Then I’m very impressed. I’m afraid I don’t cook and I have no creative talent.”

“I’ll bet you there is something you’re good at and just haven’t developed,” May said, turning to Willard, who suddenly had become very still and quiet. “Don’t you agree—Willard, are you all right?” May suddenly shoved her plate aside and leaned over him. She grabbed his hand and slapped it. His face had gone from its normal pink to a pale gray hue, and he seemed short of breath, unable to say a word and looking fixedly at his wife.

Beth rushed to Willard’s side, leaned down, and unbuttoned the collar that was restricting his throat. She turned to April. “Quick, grab my handbag on the coatrack under my cape. Hurry!”

May was frantic. “What can I do? What’s wrong with him?” The others crowded around.

“Give me some space.” Beth motioned to Natalie. “Help me lay him down, please.” Quickly the two of them gently laid Willard back, and Beth placed a pillow under his head while May removed his shoes. April was back with the handbag, and Beth quickly reached inside for a bottle of liquid. She twisted the cap off and held it under his nose. After a few seconds, he blinked and looked around, appearing very disoriented.

“Willard, can you hear me?” Beth was certainly in command of the situation, and she seemed at ease and was a calming presence. Willard mumbled something inaudible and tried to sit up, but he was too weak. “You just rest easy there, Willard. Everything’s going to be all right.”

He closed his eyes and leaned back onto the pillow as though grateful he didn’t have to get up. May’s eyes were filled with tears, and she wrung her hands in panic. Beth took her elbow and walked her to the doorway, motioning for the other ladies to follow. “It’s best we don’t move him, May. We need to send for the doctor. I’m afraid he may have had a heart attack.”

“I’ll go after the doctor,” April offered.

Natalie took her arm. “I’ll go with you.”

“Please just be quick about it,” May cried.

Miss Margaret put her arm around May’s shoulders. “Come sit down, May. There’s nothing you can do until we see what the doctor says.” She guided May to the chair nearest the settee. May reluctantly sat down, gazing teary-eyed at her husband. She held his limp hand in one of hers and clutched a hanky to her mouth.