Robin (30 page)

              Obed’s eyes misted. “You going to build me a church, young man? And what would I do with Jacob? Being a preacher involves being away from home so much. Sam would be the first to tell you I wasn’t there when he needed me the most. Finding Jacob gives me a second chance.”

              “Would you be open to listening to a plan that might help us all?”

Obed nodded. “Talk away. All I have right now is time.”

THIRTY-FIVE

              William lit the lamp on the bedside table in the bunkhouse. Alone at last, he could read the message his father sent with Wren. Doc had given strict orders no one was to see Robin again until after noon the next day. The only consolation being Ty couldn’t see her, either. He slipped off his boots and propped his feet on the bed while he read.

Dear Son: I trust the Wenghold girls arrived safely and in time to see their sister. I thought it best not to apprise them of her condition since they were traveling alone. I hope that didn’t cause undue anxiety when they arrived.

It is difficult for me to write this letter. Lionel Wenghold was one of my dearest friends, and I would never want to be accused of dishonoring him in any way. However, your mother and I are very concerned over your seemingly over-exaggerated need to marry Robin to insure her future well-being. She is a fine girl, but you must consider your future as well. With her known infirmity and the unknown complications that might arise from this injury, you would, we fear, be taking on not a helpmeet, but rather an unnecessary burden. Lionel’s wish was only to see that his girls were provided for, and I’m prepared to purchase their home at above-market price. By investing the money, and their being able to live so unpretentiously out on the prairie with their uncle, they would be assured of a rather substantial monthly income.

This matter concerns us so greatly that we’re asking you to return to Chicago as soon as you can make arrangements. In time, I believe you will see the wisdom behind this appeal. Your mother’s cousin sent word her daughter, Lucille, will travel to Chicago for the summer and wishes to stay with us. She will need an escort to the various functions she will attend while here. This would be a very advantageous arrangement, William, and there is no room for further discussion.

              William Arthur Benson, II

              William wadded the letter and threw it at the wall. This was absurd. He was a grown man, not some irresponsible boy. His father knew why he’d made the trip to Kansas. He also had to be aware of how much he desired to carry on the family tradition of banking.

              He slammed the door behind him then stomped to the house. With any luck at all, he would find John alone and––

              “You better think twice before you go marchin’ into the house like what you is doin’ now.”

              William stopped short. The light from inside spilled onto the porch, revealing John and Emma in the swing.

              John eyed him. “You come lopin’ up here like you got a race to win.”

              “I guess you might say I do. I hoped you could maybe help me.” He propped one foot on the porch. “But I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

              Emma smiled. “You’re not interrupting a thing, William. I need to check on Robin, anyway, if John will just stop this swing so I can get up.”

              “Well, I say he done come between me and a nice breeze what was a blowin’ in my face, but I reckon I can stop it long enough for you to get to your feet.” John helped Emma stand. “Now, you get some rest, you hear?”

              Emma patted William’s shoulder as she passed him. “Watch him, William—he’s bossy tonight.”

              John waited for Emma to enter the house then moved to a chair on the porch “Now, what’s got you in such a lather?”

              William handed him the letter from his father and waited while John positioned himself to see it from the light which filtered from inside—then waited for what seemed a lifetime while John mouthed each word. Finally, he methodically folded the paper and handed it back.

              “You ain’t thinkin’ I’m gonna tell you what to do, are ya?” John drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair.

              “I hoped you would, but I knew you wouldn’t.”

              “Seems to me we done had this conversation before, but I’ll ask ya again—why did you come here in the first place?”

              William shrugged. Why did he come? Guilt? Duty? Maybe his parents were right in calling his motives overly exaggerated. “I promised her pa I would look out for her. I thought by making her my wife I would be doing that.”

              “Do you love her?” John leaned toward him. “Can you look her in the eyes, like I’m a lookin’ into yours, and tell her you love her?”

              “I’m willing to marry her.”

              John leaned back, his arms across his chest. “That’s the wrong answer, son. Let me ask you this—are you just as willing to give up a position in your papa’s bank?”

              “I don’t know anything else. It’s what I’ve been trained to do since I was old enough to tell a dime from a nickel.” He wiped his forehead with the flat of his hand. “It’s the only way I know to provide for Robin."

              “You worked on your uncle’s ranch, didn’t you? That ain’t providin’? Tell that to Ty if you got the nerve.”

              “Ty’s working his own ranch, sir, not his uncle’s. There’s a difference.”

              John leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. “And they’s a difference between money and providin’. See, you can trot on down to your fancy bank ever’ day and count money and loan money and lose money and bring home money, and still not be providin’ for your family. If you don’t love her, you can’t tote home enough dimes and nickels to call it providin’.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms again. “Now, you be thinkin’ on that before you go tryin’ to convince Robin, or yourself, that marryin’ up with you is what’s best for her.”

              “This probably isn’t a fair question, but I’m going to ask it anyway. You want her to marry Ty, don’t you?”

              John’s big hand clamped his shoulder. “Don’t matter what I want. You two is so bent on decidin’ who gets to hitch up with that little gal you haven’t had sense enough to ask her who she wants. Now don’t ask me no more foolish questions. I’m tired and so are you. Ain’t nobody gonna bother that girl ’til Doc says they can, so ya might as well get some sleep.”

William sat on the porch long after John went in. Lightning flashed behind a towering thunderhead, accompanied by a long roll of thunder. There was a storm brewing out on the prairie, but it couldn’t be any worse than the one churning in his gu
t
.

THIRTY-SIX

              “Where are my sisters, Emma? Why haven’t they been in today?” Robin pulled her gown closer. If only she could get dressed again. She didn’t like sitting around in nightclothes.

              Emma finished tucking the blanket around her legs. “Wren insisted on being taken to the Feather. She wanted to inspect it to make sure she had everything she needed before they brought you home.”

              “Did Uncle John take them?”

              Emma smiled. “Your Uncle John is sly as a fox. No—he made sure he was too busy, and gave Sam Mason that little work detail.”

              “Oh dear. Now what’s he up to, do you suppose?”

              “Think, Robin—only try your best to think like John Wenghold. What was the first thing he wanted to do when you arrived?”

              “Find me a husband?”

              Emma nodded.

              “But he wrote that silly notice. He was going to get one through advertising.”

              “Only because there was no one here for him to manipulate, other than Ty. And he did try that route, you know. Just didn’t give the man time enough to make up his own mind.”

              “Oh, poor Sam.” Robin laughed. Mercy, but it did feel good to laugh without her head pounding. “Did Lark go along? Her presence alone will probably stifle any notion of romance if Sam is so inclined. She’s hardly stepped foot outside this house, according to little sister.”

              “Lark is frightened, Robin.”

              “Of this prairie? These hills?”

              “No, I would expect that’s the least of her concerns. I think she’s afraid because she doesn’t know what will happen next. Where you will be. Where that will leave them. Where that will leave her. I think life in general scares her.”

              “But she knows the plan is for her to come here, too."

              “Was she that much different in Chicago, Robin? Did she have friends there? Did she ever go out on her own?”

              Robin shook her head. “I’d have to answer ‘no’ to all those questions. We were all excited when she accepted the position at the music school. It seems the one place she feels confident.”

              “And if and when she comes out here, she’ll leave that one place. She’s secure with her music. She knows what to expect of her students, and she knows that what she’s able to give them is what they need.”

              Emma opened the window by Robin’s chair. “I’ll make more of an effort to visit with her. Maybe ask her to help more. My mama used to make me dry the dishes, even after my Pa died and there was only the two of us. I could never understand it. The woman could bake bread, plant taters, and sew a dress all in the same afternoon. But she needed help with the dishes?”

              “I’d imagine she was tired by then.”

              “Nope. It wasn’t her being tired at all. She was wise. It took me lots of years to come to the full knowledge of that dish-drying time. See—that’s when we talked. I’d prattle away about everything and nothing, and she’d listen and smile and ever so often ask me a question to keep me going. I got so used to telling her all my little-girl troubles that by the time I was old enough to have real problems it wasn’t hard at all to keep right on talking.”

              “Papa was like that at our house," Robin said, touched at the memory. “We sisters tried hard to never upset Mama. But Papa would sit all night with a forkful of potatoes midair and regale us with tall tales or listen to us chatter. Then Mama would scold, ‘Lionel, either eat those potatoes or lay your fork on your plate. How will our daughters ever learn manners with you waving food like a flag.’”

            
 
Emma laughed. “My George would have been like your papa, had God blessed us with children.” She wiped her eyes. “But you know, I just had a thought. There’s a piano sitting down in Ty’s parlor. Probably hasn’t had a note of music come out of it since Grace Morgan died. Maybe—”

              “Oh, that’s a wonderful idea. And did you know Albert Harvey also has an interest in music? Do you suppose—?”

              “You leave it to me.” Emma patted Robin’s hands. “We’ll have a musicale to celebrate when you get well enough to come down the stairs. See—now it’s up to you.” She straightened the pillow on the bed. “But for now, Robin, we’ve kept poor William waiting long enough. He’s been propping up the wall in the hallway since Doc said he could see you. I think we best let the poor man in.”

              “Wait.” Robin reached for the older woman’s hand. “I’m scared, too.”

              Emma sat on the side of the bed and took both of Robin’s hands in hers. “And what frightens you most?”

              She shrugged. “Perhaps the same things that weigh on Lark’s mind. What happens if I don’t get well? What will become of Jacob, of Wren and Lark? Uncle John can’t be expected to care for all of us if we aren’t able to contribute to the work.”

              “And . . . ?”

              “And will Ty or William either one want me if I become an invalid? William has a bank to run, and a wife would be expected to entertain, be active in the social community, volunteer for various causes. And Ty has this ranch and all that comes with it. I don’t think I even begin to realize what all that would include.”

              Emma leaned to embrace her. “Such big worries for such a little lady, Robin. But you’re trying to borrow what isn’t for loan—strength for tomorrow—before you’ve used up this day’s supply. And you know what? I have a feeling by the end of the day a whole lot of questions will be answered for you.” She gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Now, may I let William in?”

              Robin nodded. “Will you stay?”

              “No, sweetheart. There isn’t a man alive who wants an old widow lady hanging around while he’s trying to declare what’s on his mind. But I’ll be close by if you need me.” She winked and held the door for William.

              Robin’s lips quivered as she attempted to smile at her caller. Why was he dressed as a banker today? It made her uncomfortable, though this was the William she’d known in Chicago.

              He reached for her hands. “I never wanted my coming to be so awkward for you, Robin. But I think you know why I’m here.”

              She nodded. “I know what you stated in your letter, but I’m not sure that’s why you’re sitting here now.”

              “I need an answer, Robin. Your sister brought word from my father, requesting that I return home as soon as possible. I can’t . . .”

              “But I thought you were staying for a month. Is something wrong? Your mother’s not . . .”

              “No, everything is fine at home. It’s complicated. But I can’t leave without knowing if we are to have a future together.”

              “But I . . . we don’t know what will become of Jacob yet. I’m not well enough to travel. There’s so much we don’t know. How can I make a decision so soon?” If Emma thought William’s visit would answer questions, she was wrong. He’d only raised more.

              A frown settled between his eyes. “It’s not so soon, Robin. We’ve known one another since we were children. And you know my intentions. Surely you’ve had time to consider my offer.”

              “Is that what this is, William? An offer? A business proposition? Is that why you’re dressed in your suit?”

              He released her hands and stood. “My suit and all it represents is who I am, Robin, what I can give you. It’s assurance that you and your sisters will be cared for.”

              “And what will become of Jacob?”

              William turned to the window. “He has a grandfather and an uncle who will look after him.”

              “But he needs a mother and father.” Her heart thumped. How could she make him understand? She couldn’t leave Jacob. She couldn’t.

              “And will he have that if you stay?”

              She shrugged. “I . . . I can’t answer that. I would hope—”

              “You hope . . .” William dropped to his knees beside her. “And does that hope include Ty Morgan?” He cupped her chin in his hands. “Look at me. Do you love him?”

              She could hardly breathe. It was one thing to think about it. It was quite another to be forced to voice it.

              William kissed her hands. “Your silence screams at me. I think I knew before I asked. I just wasn’t sur
e
yo
u
did.”

              “Are you angry with me?”

              “No, my dear friend, but only if you’ll promise to be happy. Morgan doesn’t deserve you. But then, neither do I.”

              “What if he doesn’t love me in return?” She hadn’t meant to voice the question aloud, but there it was.

              “Oh, sweet Robin. I knew the first time I saw him look at you that he loved you. I just didn’t know how he was going to manage loving you with Miss Anna Blair in his life, too.

              She studied her hands folded in her lap. “If Anna were still in the picture, would that change your proposal to me? Do you truly love me, William, or did you make a promise to Papa to look after me?”

              He squeezed her hands. “What makes you think your papa asked me to look after you?”

              She laughed, recognizing his hedging for what it was. “Because I know my papa. I also knew when you proposed to me before Papa died that it was to bring comfort to him, not happiness to you. I love you for it, William. And I know marriage must be built on friendship, too. But I don’t want to be a project. No girl wants to settle for that when her life’s dream is to be loved for who she is alone.”

              He touched her face. “You need to know that I reached a turning point in my life while here. But believe me, you were never a project. Had you told me you loved me I would have found a way to make it work.”

              “That sounds so arduous
—
to make it wor
k
.”

              “Banking is my life. Believe it or not, I love the smell of Chicago as much as you’ve grown to love the scent of rain on this prairie. I look forward to putting on my crisp white shirts and stodgy ties, and walking, cane in hand, the few blocks to my office. And I would love walking home each evening knowing you were waiting for me.”

              “And I would hate it, and you would grow to resent a marriage based on a promise you made to a dying man. In retrospect, I think Papa would hate it, too. You know, you aren’t the only one he asked to look out for me. Perhaps he wanted me to have a choice. He often lamented I had so few opportunities. One day, according to him, the world will change and people who are different in the eyes of some, will be accepted in the eyes of many.”

              “You seem much more at peace with accepting yourself. No more kicking against the pricks so to speak.”

              “I blamed God for so long. I was angry and resentful because He didn’t answer my prayers the way I wanted. I decided if I didn’t get my way, then He wasn’t listening. Emma set me straight on that one. I’ve a ways to go, but I now realize He’s my friend and desires only my best. And His best and my idea of best might be worlds apart.”

              “Worlds apart like Chicago and Kansas?” He smiled at her.

              “Maybe.” She searched his face, no longer caring there were no signs of love written there. “Promise me we can still remain friends, William.”

              “Only if you promise to invite me to the wedding.” He kissed her on the nose. “Now my sweet, sweet little bird, I shall return to Chicago. But remember, I’m only a telegraph message away.”

              “You will always be much closer than that. There’s a special place in my heart with your name on it.” Her fingers tightened around his. It was scary to let go.

###

The light coming through the crocheted curtains in Robin’s room cast lacy shadows dancing across the pale yellow walls. A slight breeze billowed them, like a hoop under a lady’s skirt. Robin folded her hands on her lap. It seemed such a long time ago that she’d worn a dress of any kind. Doc said another week before she could attempt walking alone, but only in the bedroom with Emma present. She hated that William’s last memory of her would, no doubt, be a contrast of his business suit and her cotton wrapper.

              The chatter of voices downstairs signaled her sisters’ return from the Feather, and she welcomed th
e
thump, thump, thum
p
of footsteps on the stairs. At last—someone to talk to. She closed her eyes and played the game which had become the one entertainment she was allowed—guess who’s coming? She’d wait until they entered to open her eyes and confirm her prediction. But this time she needn’t play. Even with all the stomping, Wren’s steps were as telling as her giggle.

              “Robin? Robin, are you awake?” Wren bustled through the open door and perched herself on the edge of the bed, arms folded across her chest. “That Sam Mason makes me so mad. Do you know what he did? I told him I was going to come right back here and tell you, but he said you weren’t his boss. Can you believe the nerve? Of course you’re his boss, and I told him just wait and see. And he just laughed. Do you know what he did?”