Grace be a Lady (Love & War in Johnson County Book 1) (10 page)

For
a moment, Grace waited for Thad to pull out her chair at the dinner table,
earning her a puzzled glance from him as he sat down. Grace cleared her throat
to cover the blunder and grabbed her chair. One little slip like that and this
whole lie could come apart.

Seated,
she grabbed the napkin off the table and placed it in her lap, taking in the
company at the table. Earl Walker, a big man with a booming voice, sat
commandingly at the head. Thad took the other end of the table, Raney and Bill
were to Grace’s left, and the other Walker sons sat opposite her.

With
the brothers side by side, Grace could see the family resemblance among them.
Though Nick had dark hair, all of the Walker men had startling blue eyes,
strong features, and hair in need of trimming. Broad, muscular shoulders were a
family trait as well.

Everyone
at the table locked hands and lowered their heads. Surprised, Grace copied them,
but peeked as Thad led them in a quick dinner blessing. Then he flicked his
napkin open and motioned to his brothers. “Greg, that’s my little brother Adam . . .”

Grace
noted the young man’s hair was as blond as Thad’s, cropped the same way as Thad’s,
and he wore a vest similar to Thad’s.

The
teenager nodded politely and reached for the creamed corn. “Nice to meet ya,
Greg.”

The
case of hero worship was advanced and she couldn’t help but be amused by it.
“Likewise.”

“And
that scoundrel is Nick, the middle brother.”

Nick,
again dressed in black, took the bowl of corn from Adam, and nodded at Grace.
“Good to see you again, Greg. You recovered from that stint at the pump?”

The
moment the words left his mouth, activity at the table froze. Bowls hung in mid-air.
Nick flinched, dipped his head. “I’m sorry, Bill. That was a pretty dang stupid
thing to say.”

Bill,
staring morosely at his empty plate, blinked as if coming out of his daze, and
reached for his glass of water. “It’s all right, Nick.”

“You
need anything, Bill, you know we’re here for you.” Earl scooped green beans
onto his plate as food continued to circulate. Raney held a platter of fried
chicken out for Bill, and didn’t move until he took a leg and set it on his own
plate.

“I
appreciate that, Earl.”

A
stubborn tilt to her chin, Raney dropped a helping of mashed potatoes and green
beans onto the man’s plate. He made no move to touch the food. “You need to eat
something, Bill.”

He
obediently picked up his fork, but merely held it in his hand. Earl contemplated
the man for a moment then switched his gaze to Raney. Grace didn’t miss the
subtle softening in his eyes, or the way his voice lowered a touch as he addressed
the woman.

He
asked about things out at her place, and eventually the conversation thawed in
general, though everyone was cognizant of Bill’s recent loss. He didn’t
contribute much to the conversation, just added a nod here and there. His loss
tugged at Grace’s heart. Did he wonder if Maggie had been murdered, or did he
accept her death as an accident?

Finally,
a short, rotund ranch hand brought in two apple pies and a pot of coffee. The
scent of apples and cinnamon filled the room, and Grace thought of Hardy. Her
chest constricted as she remembered how much he loved fresh apple pie topped
with vanilla ice cream.

Thankfully,
Earl’s deep voice pulled her back from the memory. “Thad, how’s the yield
coming out so far this year?”

Thad
wiped his mouth with his napkin and cleared his throat. “We’ve got about two
hundred calves. We’re down about fifty from this time last year.”

“Fifty?”
Earl leaned an elbow on the table and hid his mouth behind his fist. “You sure
about those numbers?”

“Pretty
sure.”

“I
rode with him the second time,” Nick said, setting down his fork. “The count’s
good.” The firmness of the statement sounded as if he were defending Thad.

Earl
scratched his chin. “It’s off a fair amount from Trampas’s number.”

The
brothers swapped uneasy glances. Thad rested his hands on the table, tapped his
fingers, and waited on his father with a blank face. Grace sensed the tension.

Earl
leaned back and waved a biscuit at his son. “Do your count again.”

The
expressions on Thad’s and Nick’s faces didn’t change exactly, but there was a
hardening that happened, as if the determination to hide their true feelings
outweighed everything. After a moment of awkward silence, Adam tagged Thad in
the shoulder. “Get your guitar out, Thad. Liven up this party.”

Before
Thad could respond, Earl threw his napkin on his plate. “That guitar is
tomfoolery. Why don’t we retire to the drawing room for a few snorts of brandy?”

Adam
dropped his gaze to his plate. He did not hide his disappointment nearly as
well as his brothers. Nothing in Thad’s expression gave away his thoughts, but
his throat rippled, and Grace caught the slightest tightening in his jaw.
Disheartened to see so many similarities between Earl Walker and Bull Hendrick,
Grace rose and followed Raney to the other room.

The
group settled quietly in the drawing room, one richly appointed in velvet and
dead animals. The firelight glittered eerily in the eyes of stuffed antelopes,
bears, and cougars. Bill, Thad, and Raney took seats near the fire while Earl
poured drinks at the bar. Adam and Nick resumed a chess game. Based on the
position of the pieces, Adam had his older brother on the run.

Grace
tried to settle out of the hum of things, and seated herself at the piano. She
ran her hands over the frame, but didn’t touch the keys. She loved playing but
didn’t think that was necessarily a skill a rangy, underweight cowboy should
brag about.

Earl
passed out the brandies to the adults, then strode over and rested an arm on
the hearth. Bill leaned back in the ornately-embroidered Bergere armchair and
sighed, staring deeply into the dancing flames. His anguish caused Adam’s hand
to pause. For a moment, the crackling logs were the only sound in the room.

Earl
took a sip of his drink then dropped down on the settee next to Raney. He
leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Bill, I said we want to
help. What do you need? Do you want to keep running your spread? Do you want me
to get you a foreman so you can go back east? Do you want to sell it outright?
The longer you put off these decisions, the more things’ll get squirrelly with
your cattle. No sense making it easy for the rustlers.”

“And
your men are likely wondering, Bill.” Thad shifted in his seat, leaning forward
on his elbows as well. “Wondering whether they need to stick around, or not.”

Raney
nodded. Her expression was soft, comforting, perhaps reminding Bill he was
among friends. He returned the nod. “I have a good crew. I owe them. You’re
right.” He shifted to Earl. “You’re the only SGA member I would sell to. You’ve
always been decent to me and given me a fair shake. Some of your men rode with
mine both times my herd was rustled. I appreciate that you’ve always treated me
like a neighbor, not a vassal, like some of those other outfits.”

Earl
shrugged, humbly lowering his head. “You’ve fought Indians, thieves, and
disease to keep your land. Not like those Johnny-come-lately homesteaders. You
and me hacked our spreads out of the wilderness.”

“You
know what my spread is worth. Will you pay that? And keep my men on?”

“Give
or take.” Earl grinned, and thrust out his hand.

Bill
stared at the outstretched hand as debate raged on his face. “We had a lot of
hopes and dreams for that place. Then the girls got married and moved away.
Wasn’t anybody but Maggie and me then. Now there’s only me. And I want to see
my grandkids grow up.” He took Earl’s hand. “Guess my ranching days are over. I’m
moving to Boston.”

“I’m
truly sorry,” Earl said squeezing Bill’s hand, “about everything. You and
Maggie were good neighbors. We’re heading to Cheyenne tomorrow for some
meetings. Why don’t you go with us as far as Casper, and we’ll see my lawyer?”

“Hey,
did you know Susanna Kinsey is performin’ at the Opera House in Cheyenne?” Adam
blurted out, jerking Nick out of deep next-move contemplation. Everyone in the
room frowned at the outburst, taken aback by it. The boy shrugged sheepishly
and tried to explain his enthusiasm. “Well, that fella Warren just remodeled it
and all. It’s supposed to be a heck of a place now, and she’s gonna do some
play written just for her.” He trailed off, his cheeks blazing.

“Yeah,”
Raney mused, “Cheyenne is quite the city. They’re trying to rival Chicago, what
with electric lights and telephone service.”

For
the first time that night, Grace heard something that truly piqued her
interest. Telephones. They had telephones in Cheyenne, as did Bull’s mansion
back in Chicago.

Her brain spinning with schemes for getting down to Cheyenne,
Grace excused herself from the room to visit the outhouse. Singing crickets and
wailing wolves serenaded her as she thought about the possibility of a
telephone call. Oh, to hear Hardy’s voice again. What about the risk? How much
should she say if she could get him on the phone? Maybe she wouldn’t say a
word. If she could simply hear him say
hello
, that could be enough for a
while.

Lost in these hopeful thoughts, she glanced up . . .
and jerked to a stop, stunned by the sight overhead. So many stars littered the
night sky there was nearly more
brilliance
than darkness. She’d never seen such a wealth of celestial
lights
scattered throughout the heavens.
Seemingly in chaos, the sky glittered from horizon to horizon, like a
diamond-encrusted tapestry. Twinkling, shining . . .

Moving? She gasped as a shooting star streaked across the sky.

This glorious panorama of star upon star upon star hovered over
her, and she was moved by it. There was nothing chaotic or accidental in the
speckling of lights. Inexplicably, she sensed the presence of Love out there,
like a Master Painter creating his finest work of art for the sheer pleasure of
his beloved.

As she gazed up in awe, the heavens revealed more magic. A
shimmering light grew in the north, glimmering first green, then orange, then
blue, weaving its way southward across the sky. Her mouth fell open. This light
shimmered magically overhead, undulating with the change of color.

What the—?

“The Northern Lights.”

She squeaked and whirled, startled by Thad’s deep voice. Her hand
clutched at her chest, as if to keep her heart in place. Aware she was acting
like a silly girl, she finished off the near-scream with some manly coughing.

“You are a jumpy thing.” Chuckling, he walked up beside her and
tilted his head back to take in the heavenly show. “Raney was worried. She
thought a bear might a got ya.”

A bear?
Grace felt the fear and
shock sliding over her face. To hide the gutless reaction, she went back to
drinking in this portrait of heaven, committing it to memory, in case she never
had a chance to see it again.

“Bless the LORD, O my soul,” Thad murmured gently, reverently.
“Thou art clothed with honor and majesty. Who coverest with light as a garment:
Who stretchest out the heavens like a curtain.”

Grace tilted her head, impressed. “That was beautiful. Was that
Shakespeare?”

He scratched his ear, Grace thought, to hide his surprise at her ignorance.
“Uh, no. It’s from the Bible.”

“Oh.” She let her mind wander along the Milky Way, and it led her
back to her grandparents’ farm. “I used to go to church, back before my parents
died.”

She could feel him watching her. “You know Shakespeare, but you don’t
know the Bible?”

“My parents took me when I was very young. My grandparents raised
me after their death. My grandfather, though, didn’t have much use for
religion. He called it superstition.”

“What did they do with Grace?”

Grace almost rolled her eyes. Another slip. Panic clawed at her.
“They raised us both. She went to church. She went alone.” She wished she could
swallow the lie—yet another one. Truth be told, she hadn’t darkened the door of
a church since the flood that took her parents.

“Well, that’s good to know.” Thad went back to staring at the
night sky.

He sounded too pleased. Grace hated to dash his illusions . . .

“I can’t imagine being separated from that.”

She didn’t follow his thoughts and frowned. “I’m sorry?”

He motioned at the sky. “His love . . . it’s on
display up there. This canvas He painted for us. The Bible says the heavens
declare His glory. I believe, in Heaven, we’re in His presence and it’s
beautiful and glorious . . . like that —” He pointed up again –
“but beyond anything we can even imagine.” He shrugged and folded his arms over
his chest. “On the other hand, I believe Hell is knowing everything about God,
including how much He loves us, and understanding that you’re eternally
separated from Him. To
know
that and be alone forever . . .”
He shivered, as if he couldn’t imagine anything worse.

Grace thought she had at least a passing acquaintance with that
kind of loneliness. A
deep, soul-rending isolation.

“Anyway, sorry, don’t mean to preach.” He slapped her on the back
and turned to go. “I’m hittin’ the hay. We’re all headed to Cheyenne in the
morning.”

“Cheyenne? The town with telephones?”

Grace’s enthusiasm stopped Thad mid-turn. He swung back around to
her. “You need to call somebody? Um . . . Sorry,” he waved off
the question. “Not that it’s any of my business.”

With a short pause, he gave her a chance to dispute that. But
Grace didn’t want to volunteer any information, especially knowing that it
would be a lie anyway.

When she didn’t offer any details, he nodded. “All right, then, I’ll
see you tomorrow.” He took two steps and stopped. Tugging on his string tie, he
rounded on her again. Grace had to consciously restrain herself from begging
him to go away, just
leave
.

“Like I said, it’s not any of my business, but you can’t call
Sheridan, if that’s what you were thinking. The lines don’t run there yet.”

“Oh,” she said as blandly as possible, hoping to discourage him.

“I mean, if you were thinking about calling your sister, that is . . .”

That hopeful tone in his voice made her want to throw something at
him. This poking around for more information had to stop. “No, I was just
thinking what a novelty telephones are. How exciting it would be to talk to
someone in, say, Chicago.” She shrugged. “Chicago has a lot of telephones.”

“And maybe there’s a gal back there you might want to give a
jingle? Somebody you’re sweet on?”

Grace
lifted a shoulder. “You could say that.”

Thad
grunted, seemed to debate something, and then punched her lightly on the
shoulder. “You did good, facing Trampas the way you did. Bluffing is half the
battle when you’re fighting a bigger man.” He tilted his head and leaned in a little.
“You ever been in a fight?”

Fists
flashed before her eyes. Her ribs and back ached at the memory of some of Bull’s
beatings. “No, not exactly, but I’ve taken a whooping or two.”

Thad
chuckled at her honesty. Pondering something, he scratched his nose. “Make a
fist.”

“What?”

He
grabbed her hand and raised it front of her. “Make a fist.”

Scowling,
and wishing Thad would go on to bed, Grace balled her fingers into a fist and
shoved her hand to within an inch of his face. “There.”

“Well,
that’s one reason they were whoopins and not good fights. Here,” he clutched
her hand, “tuck your thumb in and tighten your fingers.” He walked around
behind her and raised her other hand. “Same thing, tight fist, and put your
feet here and here.”

A
funny little wiggle flitted around in Grace’s stomach as Thad touched her
hands, laid a hand on her hip, and his chest brushed her back as he positioned
her feet with a nudge of his boot. His warm breath caressed her neck a couple
of times as he talked and moved her around.

Satisfied,
he slipped around to the front of her again and lifted her hands to just below
her eyes. “Keep ’em right there,” he stepped back. “Keep your thumbs in, lessin’
you want to break them, and throw your punches as hard as you can.” He sucked
on his cheek, and scanned Grace from top to bottom. “You’re awfully spindly. If
you’re ever in a knock-down-drag-out, Greg, fight with everything you’ve got.
Forget the rules. Go for the vulnerable spots on a man. You take my meaning?”

She
slowly lowered her hands, puzzled at his concern — and why she wanted him to
continue the lesson. “I think so.”

“Good.”
Dismissing her, he ruffled her hair and jogged back toward the house. “Oh, and
you’re bunkin’ with me for the night,” he tossed over his shoulder as he
climbed the porch steps. “I’ll throw a pillow and a couple of blankets on the
floor in front of the fireplace, ‘less you want to sleep in the bunkhouse.”

The
screen door slammed like an exclamation point to Grace’s shock.