Lucas (4 page)

Silence passed between
them for only a moment before he couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. “I’m
sorry, did you say he
sent
for me?” He just couldn’t get the notion out
of his head.

“Yes, of course. That
is
what the letter said, isn’t it?” Her hand flew to the curve of her neck, her
fingers caressing the indent there. “I’m afraid I just assumed...” She met his
eyes. “Isn’t that why you are here?”

“I haven’t heard from
my grandfather in as long as I’ve been gone from this place, ma’am. There
wasn’t any letter.” Then, he remembered the post Noah had found in their
father’s office just before they’d left. The one he’d said was someone trying
to stir up some trouble, and he wondered if it had indeed been written by their
granddad.

A look of astonishment
touched her eyes and froze her smile.

“No worries, ma’am.” He
moved to stand. “I’ll just come back at a more convenient time, when he’s home.”

“Excuse me,” she said
softly as she stood up, her hand across her chest. “Whether he sent for you or
not, I just know Liam would want to see you again. How long are you in town?”

“That depends on how
long before I’m able to speak with him and tell him what I’ve come to say.”

“Are you staying in Thistleberry?”

He shook his head. “Just
arrived. Came here first thing.”

“Well, let me see if I
can’t get Denver to make you up a bed in the bunkhouse. Alex said we should
keep you a surprise, but I think Hank and Sam would like to know you’re here.
I’m sure they’ll want to see you as much as Liam.” She excused herself from the
room before he could stop her.

Lucas had been so
focused on making amends with his grandfather that the idea of reacquainting
with the rest of them had his stomach in knots.

What will I say? How
will they react?

He glanced around,
stepping out into the entry and taking in the massive space. The hallway led
into a great room with ceilings that extended to what he guessed was three or
four times his own six feet and some. A picture on the top of the piano caught
his attention. He strode over to the instrument and picked up the ornate silver
frame with a photograph he immediately recognized as his brothers and him when
he was only two–maybe three at most.

Can’t be that angry
still if he keeps our photograph out where he can see it.

“Do you play?” the
woman asked when she returned.

He set the picture back
on the piano and took a step away. “The piano? Um, no. Not much of a fan.”

Her eyes widened in
apparent surprise. “How can you be Liam’s kin and not like music?”

Lucas shrugged. “I used
to. A long time ago.”

An older gentleman with
a wide brimmed hat and a thick mustache stepped into the room, his hands folded
over one another in front of him.

Lucy stared at him a
moment longer, then turned to nod at the man. “Mr. Deardon, this is Denver.
Your horse has already been seen to in the stables. You can collect your things
there and then he’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping for the night.”

Lucas turned to follow Denver,
who he guessed to be the foreman, but stopped just short of her.

“Thank you, Miss...Lucy
was it?”

“Yes,” she replied with
a quick smile. “Lucy Russell.”

“Well, Miss Russell,”
he offered, looking at her, “I’m a might obliged. Thank you,” he said,
returning his hat to his head. “This certainly wasn’t the way I’d expected to be
greeted.”

“I hope to be seeing
more of you, Mr. Deardon. I’ll let you know as soon as your grandfather
returns.” Her smile warmed him. She was beautiful.

“Ma’am,” he tapped the
brim of his Stetson with a nod and then stepped in line behind Denver and followed
him out to collect his things from the stable.

The snow fell more
heavily now. While the weather had been quite cold, and at times near freezing
over the last few weeks on the trail, he’d made good time and had thankfully
arrived at Whisper Ridge without losing any of his fingers or toes.

“I’m guessing you’re no
stranger to ranch work,” the man said, eyeing Lucas closely as he opened the
front door to the bunkhouse. Several beds lined each wall and a hefty, circular
table had been placed in the center of the large room.

“No, sir. Been working
with horses my whole life.” He stepped inside. “My family owns a ranch back in
Oregon. We all have our jobs to do.”

“I know’d your granddad
owned lots of property. Doesn’t surprise me none that y’all have a place out
there.” Denver sniffed at the air. “Well, we’re grateful for the extra set of
hands. Especially on a day like today.” He glanced out the still open door then
back at him as he stepped outside. “You sure look like a Deardon, now let’s see
if you work like one.” He nodded at a bed with linens and blankets folded
neatly at the foot. “You can bunk there for the night. Get yourself settled,
then meet me out in the stables in a quarter hour.” He tipped his hat and
disappeared.

After Lucas set his things
down next to the bed, he unfolded the covers and quickly pulled them tightly
over the mattress, grateful he would not have to spend another night on the cold,
hard ground.

As requested, he met
Denver out at the stables and spent the next hour securing shutters, hauling
wood into the homestead and bunkhouse, and feeding the horses in the biggest
stable Lucas had ever seen. The stalls had already been mucked and the horses
groomed, he just needed to make sure they had plenty of food and water until
their next feeding.

There was something
cathartic about working on his grandfather’s ranch. Some of the dread that he’d
experienced garnering the courage to knock on that front door seemed to
dissipate with each new task he accomplished.

“Lucas.”

He pricked his ears,
unsure whether or not he’d heard the faint sound of his name carried on the
breeze. When he didn’t hear it again, he returned to his work, tossing the last
barrow full of hay into the stall.

“Lucas!”

It was louder this
time, clear as day. Someone
had
called his name. He scraped the
pitchfork clean of debris, set it in the wheelbarrow, and headed for the front
of the stables with an empty feed bucket and a tool crate.

As he rounded the edge
of the long string of stalls, an older, gruff looking man, his stature nearly
filling the door, stepped into the stable, clutching onto the top boards of the
first stall.

“Lucas!” A crack broke
in the man’s voice as he called out his name again. “You made it.”

Lucas set down his
cargo and stared at him, eyes narrowed, hoping for some sense of recognition.

Granddad?
He didn’t trust
himself to speak the name aloud.

“Lucas, is that really
you?” the older man’s whispered voice broke with emotion and he rushed forward,
throwing his arms around his grandson and squeezing hard before pushing him
away far enough to see his face. “Let me look at ya.”

“Hello, Granddad. I’m
Lucas.” He’d prepared what he was going to say over and over again during his
weeks on the trail, but at this moment, his mind was nothing more than a blank
slate. He didn’t trust himself to say anything else at that moment, for fear
his voice would crack too.

“Of course you are. And
you’re a right grown man.”

Lucas cleared his
throat. “Yes, sir.”

Granddad draped his arm
around him and walked with him to the edge of the barn. “Lucy said you’ve holed
up in the bunkhouse. But, I’ve got her seeing to it now that you have a nice
room of your own inside the main house.” He turned away and coughed into his
shoulder, then squeezed Lucas’s arm.

Arggg!
Sharp pains shot up
his shoulder and into his back. He bit his lip and tensed his hands.
Breathe,
Deardon!
He would stand here for an eternity, pain and all, if it meant
having his grandfather welcome him with open arms.

“My grandson. Here. And
in time for the holiday feast.” He coughed again. “I never would have believed
it. It’s been so long.” Granddad clasped Lucas hard on the shoulder again, then
released him.

Lucas grunted inwardly,
flexing his jaw against the pain. Relief mixed with regret as the ache from his
grandfather’s grip subsided as did the welcoming feeling of his touch. The man’s
tenderness surprised him.

“Supper is almost
ready. We’ve got a lot to catch up on. Go get your things and meet me inside.”

“Yes, sir. Right after
I put blankets on all of the remaining horses.”

Granddad stood still
for a moment, just staring at him. His chest puffed out slightly and he smiled
crookedly. Then, he nodded and ducked out into the increasingly cold storm
toward the house, lifting his arms to protect him from the onslaught of snow
that now fell in droves.

Cough. Cough. The cough
could be heard above the rush of strong winds.

That doesn’t sound
good.

Lucas scrunched his
brows together. The man he’d just met, his grandfather, was not a man who never
wanted to see his grandchildren again.

“Dad lied,” he
whispered to himself. To hear his father tell it, Liam Deardon was a hard
man—impossible even with nary an ounce of compassion. How many times had he heard
over the years that their grandfather was too stubborn to allow them to visit?
How many times had they needlessly felt rejected by people they loved?

Too many.

He’d lied. What other
explanation could there be?

The only empty bedroom
in the house that still had a bed was the one right across from Lucy’s.

“What are you doing to
me, Liam?” she asked aloud, though under her breath.

The idea of such a
beautiful man’s quarters so close to hers both thrilled and alarmed her. What
of propriety? She’d already been distracted from her duties all day just
thinking about Liam’s grandson and was worried that nothing would ever get done
with him around. And with all the festivities later in the week, there was
still plenty to do, despite the imposing weather.

The back door opened
and closed. Instinctively, Lucy checked her reflection in the dark window’s
glass and immediately chastised herself for her vanity. Heavy footfalls against
the wooden floor set the pit of her stomach into chaos. Her plans for the day
had been disrupted by the storm and she wasn’t sure what to do with herself, so
she quickly escaped into the kitchen to help with supper, only to find Liam
seated at the head of the table.

He looked up. “Ah,
Lucas, my boy. Sit. Sit.”

Lucy’s brows furrowed
and she turned back to look over her shoulder.

“Excuse me,” a deep,
resonant voice cooed in low tones from behind her. He cradled her elbow as he
guided her out of his path, making his way into the kitchen and to the Deardon-sized
dinner table. A tingling sensation rippled up her arms and over the whole of
her at his brazen touch.

That will be enough of
that. You don’t know anything about this man.

Of course she hadn’t
known anything about Gilroy Hearn either and she had committed to marry him
through a mere exchange of several letters over a relatively short period of
time. Look where that had gotten her. She stopped herself before mustering any
ill will. After all, something good had come of the situation. She should thank
Mr. Hearn for running off with the shop-keep’s daughter. She would have never
met Liam Deardon or his family had it not been for the cheat.

Her thoughts were
interrupted when Liam coughed. His breathing had a slight wheeze to it and the
overall tone to his skin was pallid, even though his cheeks were flushed. She
didn’t know why she hadn’t seen it before. She guessed she had just been too
excited to see him after weeks of being away. But the robust man she’d come to
know and love, looked overly tired and she made a mental note to have a nice,
hot bath drawn and a fire stoked in his hearth. The man obviously needed some
rest after his journey.

Cough.

“Liam,” she asked as
she approached the table, “how long have you had that cough?”

“Ah, don’t concern
yourself with me, Lucy Mae. It’s nothing.” He waved to her. “Come. Sit with us.
I was just going to talk to Lucas about my letters.”

Lucy’s feet would not
move toward them. Couldn’t. She smiled apologetically. “I think we’ll just wire
the doctor first. I know he’s in Thistleberry today, but he has a new
apprentice,” she hoped that’s what he was called, “who I am sure can finish his
rounds in town. I’ll be right back.” She took a step toward Liam’s office.

“If you’re already
headed all the way into town, why would you need to wire him?” Lucas asked, his
confusion understandable.

Lucy wasn’t quite sure
how to respond.

“I’m just heading into your
grandfather’s study.”

“Are you telling me
that you have a telegraph here? In the house?” Lucas asked, awe and incredulity
apparent in his voice.

She ignored him and
took another step.

“Look outside, Lucy.”
Liam motioned toward the window. “I’m not going to risk him coming out in this
weather for a simple little cough. There is nothing he can do right now that a
cup of hot tea won’t cure.”

“I’ll just put a pot on
the stove, then.”

“Sit!” he said firmly.
“Please.” His voice softened. “I want you to get to know your betrothed.”

“Her what?” Lucas
demanded, echoing her surprise. He pushed back the chair and was on his feet in
an instant. He looked at Lucy, then back at Liam. “Whoa. Wait a minute. I never
agreed to get married. Not to anyone.”

“Liam,” Lucy looked up
at him with a smile she hoped would convince him to listen to her, “I thought
we’d agreed. No more matchmaking.” She should be surprised at what her
benefactor had clearly written in his letters, but she wasn’t. He had felt
responsible for her situation from the beginning and had made it his mission to
find her the right husband.

Lucas had told her that
he hadn’t received any of his grandfather’s letters, but still, the
disappointment at his obvious aversion to even the idea of marrying her stung.

“That’s why you’re
here, isn’t it? You got my letters and you came to fulfill an old man’s wish?”

“Sorry, Granddad. Miss
Lucy said you sent us a letter right after she got here, but if that’s so, we
never received it. At least not that I know of. And I sure as h—” he swallowed
the last word and looked over at her. “I didn’t see it,” he amended.

Liam glanced between
her and his grandson, then he motioned for her to join them at the table.

She stayed put for as
long as she dared, but Liam Deardon had been good to her and she didn’t have
the heart to deny him. She complied with his wishes and took the seat across
the table from Lucas. Liam reached out and squeezed her hand with a wink, then
turned his focus back to his grandson.