Authors: Jillian Hart
Calico Bride (6 page)
Burke stirred, lifting his head an inch off his pillow as she neared. Had he been waiting for her? Her heart skipped a beat in hope, but she had to be practical. He had probably heard her footsteps and smelled the chicken broth she'd made for him. He was hungry, not interested in her personally.
"You're awake again." She slipped the tray on the barrel that served as a nightstand. "You look better."
"I feel better. Still can't get up off this pillow, though."
It was good to see a hint of the man she'd first met with humor twinkling in his striking blue eyes and dimples bracketing his lean, masculine mouth. A smile tugged into the corners. She wasn't fooled. "Have you been trying to get up on your own, while I wasn't here?"
"Guilty. If I had succeeded, I would be halfway home by now, although it might have caused a stir." He paused to catch his breath. "I don't know where my clothes went."
"Your trousers are drying on the clothesline, but I'm afraid your shirt needs more work to save it."
"Maybe I could buy one from you. I saw a display of ready-made shirts in the store."
"We'll talk price once you are strong enough to stand. Until then, you are my prisoner, Deputy." She grasped the paper packet carefully so as not to spill the laudanum. "Open up."
"I knew this was coming, too." He made a face before taking the packet from her and dumping the acrid white powder onto his tongue. He seized the glass she offered and swallowed fast, but apparently not speedy enough to wash away the taste. "Bitter," he gasped, when he handed over the empty cup.
"This should help." She gave him a buttered slice of bread. His sun-browned fingers brushed hers and a jolt of sunshine spread through her as peaceful as a summer's morning. She tried to keep her gaze from noticing his ruggedly handsome and chiseled features overly much.
"Thanks." He chewed slowly, watching as she filled a spoon with the good broth. He swallowed. "Do you play nursemaid often?"
"I have some practice with it." She hoped he couldn't see the truth. She tried to tuck her emotions away and keep them out of sight. "I have a little sister, you know. Younger siblings are pesky, always needing tender love and care."
"I was the younger sibling, and something tells me you don't mind taking care of your sister so much."
"I wouldn't trade her for anything." She couldn't explain why her hand wasn't steady as she arrowed the spoon at his mouth. She grabbed the cloth napkin to hold it beneath the spoon, where a droplet of broth fell onto it. "How many older brothers and sisters do you have?"
"None."
"None?" Her frown wrinkled with confusion. But hadn't he just said he was the youngest? How could that be unless'¦ Then realization dawned. She recognized the unspoken sorrow in his heart. She knew exactly what that loss was like. "I'm sorry."
"I had an older sister." He winced as if the pain were an old one but had never fully healed. He sipped the broth from the spoon and took his time swallowing.
"You don't have to tell me." She knew how difficult it was to talk about her ma's passing. "I understand."
"I was four years old when our house caught fire in the middle of the night." His gaze caressed her like a touch, lingering on her face. He seemed able to read her secrets written there. "A stray ember from the cookstove may have started the fire. I never really knew. All I remember is startling awake, choking on black smoke. The kitchen was roaring and glowing as if a fiery monster had been let loose in it."
"You had to have been terrified." She filled the spoon carefully, her hand steadier.
"I was. Ginna's bunk was across from mine and the fire was burning her nightgown. I couldn't see her because of the flames and the smoke. Pa took her out first, walking through the fire without thought for himself. Ma was there, too, but she couldn't make it to me. I remember her screaming in pain and telling my father to get me out first before her. So I was handed through the window to my sister and my life was spared in exchange for my parents'."
She didn't know what to say. She bowed her head, thankful at least one life had been saved in such a tragedy, although she wished there had been more. "I lost one parent to small pox. I cannot fathom losing two."
"Ginna took me into the wheat field and held me to keep me from running back into the house. She was seriously burned, it turned out fatally, but she never let go. She never complained about her own injuries. She had to have been in agony, but she walked me to the neighbor's house miles away and only when I was safe did she collapse."
"She loved you. That's a big sister's job." She remembered how curious she'd been about Burke and unsatisfied with the newspaper reporter's lack of information about him. She felt shamed, prying where only sadness dwelled. "Here, you must eat. You need to rebuild your strength."
He said nothing more as he sipped the broth from the spoon she held. Four years old. She remembered when Lark was that age, cute as a button and impossibly innocent. What an incomprehensible loss for a child so young. "Did you have other family to turn to?"
"No, I did not." His granite jaw tensed. "None that I know of, anyway."
"What happened to you afterward?" She refilled the spoon, concentrating on the task.
"It's not something I talk about often." He leaned back into the pillows, exhausted. "But I want you to know."
"You have been through enough with the fever and gunshot wounds." Concern shimmered in the swirls of green and blue of her irises when she shook her head. "No, you must not strain yourself more."
"I'm all right." His throat tightened. It had been so long since someone had been truly concerned for him. "I spent the next three years at an orphanage until I was hired out to work for room and board in the local fields for nine months out of the year."
"No one adopted you?"
No one had wanted him but he couldn't say the words, not to her. He didn't want her to think less of him. The wounds of that time had become fuzzy. He remembered the people in charge of the orphanage tried to do their best but were overwhelmed and underfunded. The families who had hired him had not been particularly kind to the small children working their fields. The boy he'd been, despairing and alone, had learned to cope. He took another sip of broth. "I came to like being on my own, and I like it now. No ties. Life is simpler this way."
"I suppose some men might agree with you." She appeared surprised at his answer and he wondered why. He wished he knew what she was thinking. "You are a lone wolf type, I suppose."
"That's me." He grinned so she wouldn't guess it wasn't by choice. "I don't settle down. Now it's your turn. Tell me about your mother."
"My ma was a lovely woman." The spoon wobbled, spilling broth onto the napkin. "Whoopsy-daisy. I am all thumbs today."
"You miss her still." He knew what that was like, yearning for those who were gone. "You tended her when she was sick."
"I did. Until the very end." The edge of the spoon bumped against his upper lip, spilling hot broth onto his chin.
"Good going, Lila." She rolled her eyes and leaned close to swipe the wet from his face. The tiny butterfly strokes of the cloth were the gentlest thing he'd known in two decades. She leaned back, folding the napkin. "Sorry about that. I get emotional about it even when I try not to be."
"It happens." He shrugged, forgetting about his injuries until the movement tugged at the torn flesh and cracked bone. He wheezed against the pain, pretending all that hurt him was the physical.
"Sometimes I think it would be easier if I never cared for anyone again." She refilled the spoon. Less unsteady this time. He slurped in the warm, tasty broth and felt stronger for it.
"That has been my conclusion," he confessed, swallowing. "Although you don't seem the type to live that way."
"I'm not. It might be easier to keep my heart safe, but I don't want to go through life with nothing to show for it. Loving someone and being loved is the only real living. Anything else is just existing, just passing time and I don't want to have to explain to God at the end of my life why I wasted all the opportunities He gave me to be loving." She dipped the spoon into the bowl, pausing thoughtfully. "If God is love, then I believe that is what we are all called to do."
"I've heard that argument before." He had a different calling and a path God had set him on. Burke envied the man who would win Lila's heart one day, who would have the right to brush those cinnamon-brown wisps from her eyes and kiss her innocent rosebud mouth. To protect her and cherish her and grow old with her in the security God meant true love to be.
Sharp, heavy footsteps pounded closer like the strike of a hammer on nails. Lila gasped, sat ramrod straight and spilled a spoonful of broth on her flowered skirt. The store owner's wife filled the doorway with flounced skirts and disapproval.
"Lila May Lawson, what are you up to?"
Chapter Six
"E
unice! I mean, Ma." Lila gulped, dismay twisting her gorgeous face as she rose from the chair. The chair scraped harshly against the wood floor. Broth sloshed over the rim of the bowl and hit his sheet with a few fragrant drops. "The doctor told me to look after him."
"There is no chaperone, and do my eyes deceive me or is Lark running the store? You left a
child
in charge of the mercantile?" The pleasantly plump woman turned most unpleasant as she snatched the bowl from Lila. "I have serious doubts about your judgment, young lady. Now back to work. I want the entire store dusted. You are to send Lark upstairs to work on her needlepoint. And don't look at me like that, or I will have a talk with your father."
"Pa?" She winced and bowed her head. "There's no need to tell Pa about this. I was only trying to do what was right."
"I will be the judge of that." Eunice Lawson marched out of sight, herding Lila ahead of her and did not look back.
Burke swallowed, wishing he could have more of the soup and hoping Lila didn't get into trouble over helping him. She'd gone out of her way to care for him and few people had done that over the years.
He leaned back into the pillow and closed his eyes, hurting more than usual. Maybe he shouldn't have spoken of the past. It was gone. Nothing, not even God, could change it and it stirred up all sorts of longing for things he'd lost and could never find again.
After what he'd done in his life, no decent woman'no good, kind and gentle woman'was going to be able to love him.
He tried not to listen to the muffled boom of Eunice Lawson's unforgiving voice through the board walls, his sympathy for Lila growing. He didn't wait long for the strike of shoes on the boards or the charge of displeasure in the air as Eunice returned.
"I will not have the town whispering with rumors and speculation behind my back." Eunice towered over him, hands on her broad hips. "All it takes is one hint of unpleasant gossip and customers stop coming in the front door. This store is my husband's livelihood and I will not jeopardize it."
"No, ma'am. I understand." He felt ages old and tired. He felt every sore and stained spot in his soul.
"I know what you are." Her gaze narrowed as if she could see those stains hidden within him. "You are a grown man, twenty-five, twenty-six years old."
"Twenty-four, ma'am." His stomach coiled tight. He knew where this conversation headed. Only one outcome stared him in the face. Sadness crept in at the thought.
"I see how you look at the girl. She is far too young for you, mister. It is time for you to go." The woman turned on her heel and did not look back. "I'll have the sheriff make other arrangements."
"No, please." He struggled onto his elbows. The room spun. Sick dizziness swirled in his skull. "Have Jed Black take me to my boardinghouse."
"So long as you are gone today." She hesitated at the door, distaste curling her upper lip. "I see what you are, and I don't want you in this establishment an hour longer."
He collapsed onto the pillow, breathless, in pain of the type that laudanum could not ease. He stared at the ceiling, wanting to strain to hear the faint pad of Lila's footsteps in the next room or the comforting sound of her dulcet alto. But that was unwise. Eunice Lawson wasn't entirely wrong. He did feel something for Lila'what it was he didn't exactly know, but it would be best left unexamined.
He squeezed his eyes shut against the fall of sunshine through the window. He preferred the dark, he told himself, willing it to be true.
"
What was Eunice planning to do? Anxious, Lila carefully folded up the delicate fawn-colored lawn she'd cut off the bolt to hold for Mrs. Olaff, keeping an eye on the front door where Eunice had barreled through a few moments ago. She might be back any moment, so Lila quickly tore off a length of brown paper and wrapped the fabric.
"I don't understand why I can't run the store." Lark sighed, disappointed, as she cut off a length of white string. "It was for a few minutes. I was doing fine. I didn't make a mistake adding up the purchases or anything."
"You are very good at arithmetic," Lila encouraged. Anger beat like drumrolls at her temples but she did not wish for it to show. It would only upset Lark more. "Eunice will come to see that and then you will have my fate."
"I love the mercantile." Lark sidled close to wrap the string about the bundle and tied it up in a bow. "I can feel Ma here just like when I was little and I used to cling to her skirts when she was helping customers."
"I know." It was why she loved the fabric counter. Her mother had stood measuring calico by the yards and chatting with customers, who were her friends. Those who knew Lorraine Lawson instantly became her dear friend. She had loved everyone. Lila plucked up the package and hid it safely on the shelf behind a bulky ordering catalogue. Eunice did not have the same outlook on the family business. Lila put away the scissors. "I always feel close to Ma when I'm standing right here."
"I'm as old as you were when you started working here after school." Lark fingered an edge of yellow gingham. "Maybe if I can help out every day, Eunice could afford to start paying you."
"I doubt that will happen." She shouldered the fawn-colored bolt of material back to its place on the lower shelf.
The door swung open with a whoosh and the bell overhead rang jarringly. Eunice swept in, her shoes striking the floorboards like bullets. Silent fury reverberated from her as she focused her stern glare on Lila.
Oh, no. Her stomach dropped. She gripped the edge of the fabric shelf.
"I don't want one word from you." Eunice charged ahead, and the door whooshed open again. Two grimfaced deputies trailed in her wake. Jed Black glanced across the store, lifted his shoulders in a shrug as if to say there was nothing he could do. The deputies followed Eunice into the storeroom. Would her stepmother truly do something so uncaring?
"Eunice!" She rushed around the buttons display and past the cubicles of yarn. "We were only talking, Eunice."
The strike of her stepmother's heels on the floor did not pause. Oh, why did Pa have to be out on deliveries when this happened? Surely he could talk reason to his wife. Lila ran as fast as she dared, her skirts twisting and hampering her as she dashed into the hallway. Eunice stood with her hands on her hips and her chin set, watching the two deputies each lift one end of the pallet, but she could not see Burke. The men blocked her view of him.
She skidded to a halt. "You can't take him."
"Can't? Young lady, I can do whatever I want. The deputy goes."
"At least wait for the doctor to come back from his rounds." She went up on tiptoe, straining to see any glimpse of Burke. She saw the bumps of his feet beneath the gray blanket, but that was all. "What if he starts bleeding again?"
"That is not my lookout." Eunice did not care. This man's life did not matter to her. "Back up, girl, make room. Think of this as your own fault."
Cool fear crept beneath Lila's skin and slithered there. She fell back, stumbling until her spine hit the wall, seeing the truth in her stepmother's eyes. How could Eunice be this cold? Lila bit her bottom lip. There was nothing she could do but watch the deputies shuffle by carrying their still burden.
She watched him go by. He'd turned ashen again. The jostling must be hurting him greatly. Her chest twisted in sympathy. If only there was something she could do, some way to help him. His dark blue gaze latched onto hers. For a brief moment the closeness forged between them returned. She read his resignation before he looked past her, breaking the connection between them. Distance settled and he could have been a stranger.
That was the way of a man who wanted no ties, she realized. He was friendly enough and very charming and he had shared with her a piece of himself, but leaving was easy. Ends were expected. He had never been the one getting attached.
She was. A little piece of her heart broke as the bell over the door jingled like a musical goodbye and he was gone from her sight. Maybe forever.
"I don't know how you could do this. Even you." Lila pushed away from the wall, tears stinging her eyes. She was too old to cry; she felt shameful at the burning she could not stop. She blinked hard, trying to will it away. What if something happened to Burke? Who would take care of him? Who could make sure he was safe and comfortable and fed? And why couldn't she stop caring about a man who did not want any ties?
"You had best set the storeroom to rights and tally up every item from the store we used on that man. He will pay the bill, or else." Eunice's set chin eased a tad. "I know you are angry with me, child, but this is for your own good."
"I am eighteen and I can decide that for myself." She stumbled down the hall, doing her best not to imagine Burke being carried through the streets of town. She grabbed an empty crate and gently placed one lamp into it to be cleaned up later and sold at a steep discount, used. Fury boiled beneath the surface, and she did her best not to let it control her. But it wasn't easy.
"It may not seem like it, but I am doing my best for you, your sister and your father." Eunice sounded strained, perhaps a little wounded, as she hesitated in the doorway. "I do not expect you to understand. That man is no good. Mark my words."
"You have a habit of judging people." A lamp shade rattled as she lifted the second lamp and settled it next to the first one. "It doesn't mean you are right."
"I am looking out for this family. I would have thought you would appreciate it." Eunice turned on her heels, pounded down the hall and disappeared into the store.
Lila closed her eyes. A verse from Ephesians flashed into her thoughts.
And be kind to one another, tender-hearted and forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you.
She took the words into her heart.
Lord, help me to think kindly of Eunice. Help me to handle things the right way.
That didn't stop her heart from breaking. She gathered up her skirts and settled onto the edge of the chair, gazing down on the bare spot where Burke had lain. The half-eaten bowl of broth sat on the small table. The dime novel she'd read to him was on the lower shelf.
Burke may be gone, but her sense of responsibility to him remained. She tucked the book into her pocket and stood, clear on what she needed to do.
"
Nausea roiled through him like motion sickness. Burke stared at the whitewashed walls of his room at the boardinghouse, listening to the tick of the clock he couldn't see and hearing the sounds from the open window he could not get up to close. On the street below, men called out, horses clomped by and wagons rattled over the ruts in the road. Dust wafted in along with the hot air and the even hotter sun.
Hours had passed, judging by the process of the patch of sunshine marching across the foot of his bed. The straw tick was a vast improvement over the hard pallet he'd been resting on at the mercantile, but being alone was not. He grimaced, mad at himself. All it took was a small bit of a woman's kindness and he missed it. What was wrong with him? He was tougher than that. He didn't need anyone.
What he needed was a drink of water. He tried again to lift his head off the pillow, but the dizzy sickness rocked through him. Sweat broke out on his forehead and he collapsed the few inches onto his pillow. His tongue had turned to sand, the inside of his mouth to sandpaper and thirst had become a pain he could no longer ignore.
Be tougher, he told himself. Be strong. He could handle this on his own. If he rested a little more, then he could move enough to grab the dipper from the pail Jed had left by the bed.
Footsteps thudded up the stairway. A slow, heavy gait. He tried not to let hope leap into his chest. Jed had promised to come by and check on him. Not that he needed any help, but he wouldn't turn down a full dipper of cool water, either. Then he heard a silvery sound along with the footsteps.
Spurs. They rang like bells as the door squeaked open. Burke squeezed his eyes shut, gathering his strength and wondering if he had enough should he require it. His firearm was on the bureau top, too far away to do any good. He willed his heart rate to slow. He had to trust that God wouldn't send him on a mission he couldn't win.
As long as his cover wasn't blown, that is. As long as the sheriff wasn't questioning who he pretended to be, and then maybe he had a chance. He opened his eyes, aware that Dobbs watched him from inside the doorway.
"Look what the cat dragged in." The sheriff smirked. Not a whit of sympathy softened his cold gaze. Not an ounce of humanity gave life to his stony face. "I hear you got kicked out of Lawsons'. Where is your protector, now, boy?"
"Don't need one." His voiced sounded scratchy and dry.
"That's what you think." Dobbs moseyed up close. "I've been watching you for a while. I haven't made my mind up yet."
"You aren't the only one." The friction of the words in his throat made him cough. The cough drove sharp strikes of pain through his chest. Reeling, he swallowed hard. He couldn't lift his head. He hated being defenseless and weak.
Dobbs laughed, a short burst of mean. "I didn't know what to make of you. Almost didn't hire you, but when I saw you draw I thought I knew what you were."
"What's that?" His gaze slid to the right top drawer of the bureau. Five, maybe six steps away. How would he ever get that far if he should need to? He didn't dare try to lift his head from the pillow. He would conserve what little energy he had should he need it. "Who do you think I am?"
"I've been keepin' a close eye on you." Dobbs kicked the bed frame.
The shock of movement ricocheted through him like a blow. Burke clenched his teeth, determined not to let it show. Nausea gripped his stomach. His head spun slowly.