Tracie Peterson (4 page)

“I’m so sorry,” Maggie said aloud. “I’m afraid I’m feeling worse than I thought.”

“Porter, lead the way. I’ll bring Miss Intissar,” Garrett directed, and the
porter headed in the direction of the sleeping car. Garrett pulled Maggie tight
ly to him. “Lean on me, Maggie. I’ll help you.”

The fact that Maggie willingly accepted his help caused Garrett great concern. She would never allow him to touch her if she were strong enough to do otherwise. When they reached Maggie’s room, Garrett instructed the porter to bring fresh water and a glass.

“I want you to drink this,” Garrett said to Maggie as he poured the glass full of water. “Then I want you to undress and get some rest.”

Maggie raised an eyebrow this time. “You seem intent on speaking on very familiar terms with me. I’d rather you leave this relationship as unfamiliar as possible. Neither one of us has anything to gain by doing otherwise.”

“On the contrary, Maggie. We have a great deal to gain by working through this antagonism—if not for our sakes, then for the sake of your father,” Garrett replied as he pushed the glass into Maggie’s hand.

Garrett’s fingers touched Maggie’s hand and sent a searing charge up her arm. She made the mistake of looking into his eyes. They were steely blue, and yet there was something more. They seemed to hold a glint of something that Maggie couldn’t quite comprehend.

She pulled away from his hand and the glass of water. “Wha. . .what?” she stammered. “What could this possibly have to do with my father, and why should I care?”

“Because your father has gone to a great deal of trouble for you. He cares very deeply for you, and he wants your happiness,” Garrett said, placing the water on the dresser of Maggie’s compartment. “And, despite what you may think, his plans for you are better than your own.”

Maggie stamped her foot. “My father doesn’t even know me, Garrett Lucas! He’s making arrangements for me to wed a man I don’t know. A man who doesn’t know me or what I care about in life.”

“Your father knows more about you than you give him credit for, Maggie,” Garrett stated as he walked to the door. “And, I might add, so does the man he’s chosen to be your husband.”

Maggie grew furious at this. “And just how would you know?” she asked, crossing her arms in front of her.

“Because, Maggie,” Garrett replied dryly. “I am that man.”

Chapter 4

G
arrett returned to his seat with the porter close behind him. “Will you be needin’ anything else, Sir?” the porter asked in a low voice.

“No, thank you,” Garrett replied rather distracted.

“What about your missus, Sir?”

“No. Nothing.” Garrett stated firmly.

When the porter had walked away, Garrett punched his fist against his leg.

I never should have told her like that,
he thought. He stared out the window at the open expanse of Kansas grasslands flashing by. The train was traveling at nearly seventeen miles an hour.

Garrett closed his eyes and remembered Maggie’s expression as he had told her that she was to marry him. Her look of terror had done little to assure him that he was doing the right thing.

Things had seemed much simpler back on Jason Intissar’s ranch. His mind flashed back to the day Maggie’s portrait had arrived. Jason was intensely proud of his little girl, as he always referred to Maggie, but Garrett had seen a woman behind the little girl’s eyes.

“She’s a beauty, but wild, like a green-broke mustang,” Jason had
announced as both men studied the portrait. Maggie had put up quite a fight over the portrait sitting, agreeing to it only after Jason had given his word that she could stay another year with her grandmother.

The promised year had come and gone. Throughout the weeks and months, Jason and Garrett had found themselves paying homage to the portrait. Garrett remembered the day Jason had found him in the library studying his daughter’s likeness.

“I’ve had some time to reflect on matters,” Jason had begun. “It seems to me that a ranch the size of mine will need more than a wisp of a girl to run it. I’ve worked hard to train you in every area of my holdings. Seems only fitting that you reap the reward.”

“Meaning?” Garrett had questioned.

“Meaning Maggie. She’ll need a strong man. A good man. A Christian man.” Garrett had said nothing, afraid to believe what he was hearing. Jason had continued, “I want you to marry Maggie. That is, if what I think I’ve read in your eyes is true. You do love her, don’t you?”

Garrett had found the thought startling, almost unsettling. But he’d known it was true. Everything Garrett had learned about Maggie in her grandmother’s letters had filled him with a growing love.

“It won’t be easy,” Jason had explained. “She has a temper to beat all, and she won’t take lightly to my choosing a husband for her.”

Garrett had agreed to Jason’s plan, certain that, in time, Maggie would come to feel for him the love he already felt for her.

The blast from the train whistle brought Garrett back to reality. Indeed, Maggie hadn’t liked the idea of her father choosing either a husband or a home for her.

Garrett could understand Maggie’s pain, but not her hatred. From their first encounter when Garrett was only fifteen, Jason had never been anything but kind to him. He had looked past the angry, pain-filled young man and seen potential that Garrett hadn’t known existed. There was a kindness about Jason that brought people from the farthest reaches of the New Mexico Territory to seek work or assistance. Having known what it was to be in need, Jason never failed to feed the hungry or help the hurting.

Jason had been successful in a little bit of everything, and Garrett could
n’t think of a wealthier man in the territory. Knowing that he was dying, Jason’s fondest wish was to leave his empire to the two people he loved most, Maggie and Garrett.

Garrett sighed. “I can’t blame her for hating me. Jason and I knew this wasn’t going to be love at first sight.”

Garrett hated the thought of hurting Maggie, and yet he’d had to create an attitude of uncompromising firmness between them. He’d had to act the
ruffian and cad in order to drag her from the care of her beloved grandmoth
er. But Garrett was determined to bring Maggie back to Jason and put an end to her father’s continued heartbreak.

Garrett glanced at his watch. Soon they’d be stopping for supper. At least Fred Harvey’s restaurants, known as Harvey Houses, were at virtually every major stop on the rail.

Garrett remembered past meals with fond satisfaction. Fred Harvey allowed only the finest foods to be served in his restaurants. So meticulous was Harvey that he had water hauled in steel tank cars to every restaurant. Harvey had announced that this way, no matter where one traveled on the Santa Fe line, the coffee would taste the same. A wise decision, Garrett surmised, knowing the farther west they traveled, the heavier the alkali content in the water.

The car door opened, admitting the conductor. He announced loudly their arrival in Florence, the supper stop. Those who planned to dine in the Harvey House had given their meal choices to the porter back in Emporia. Their selections had been wired ahead and would be waiting, piping hot, for them to eat.

Garrett sighed. As much as he hated the idea of disturbing Maggie, leaving her alone on the train was out of the question. She was likely to run away as she had other times when Jason had sent for her.

Meanwhile, Maggie was pacing in her sleeping compartment, ranting and raging against her father, Garrett, and even God.

“The arrogance! The absurdity! If my father thinks for one minute that I’ll allow him to marry me off to the likes of Garrett Lucas, he’s out of his mind!” she shouted. She grabbed her glass of water and threw it against the door.

When her tantrum had played itself out, Maggie sat down on the edge of the bed. The entire room was only a few feet across and eight feet long. There
was a window, a bowl and pitcher sitting on a tiny dresser, and a small wood
en commode. The bed itself was barely wide enough for one person, and Maggie wondered if her feet would hang over the edge.

She sat in silence for a long while and contemplated Garrett’s final words. He was to be her husband! “Oh God,” she breathed. “Why do You hate me so?”

A clouded memory appeared. Her mother’s loving face bent over her in care, then nothing. “You do hate me,” Maggie murmured in utter despair.

Maggie caught sight of her grandmother’s carpetbag and pulled it close. She felt a lump in her throat as she thought of her grandmother sitting alone in the big Queen Anne house.

“Grandmother, I love you so. Please God, even if You can’t forgive me, take care of Grandmother until I can get back to Topeka,” Maggie murmured.

Her mind was overwhelmed with the events of the day. It had all happened so fast. Her father had been wise to handle the situation as he had, for she would have gone into hiding if she had she known of his plans.

In his own way, he had probably tried to tell her. Maggie’s mind wandered back to an unopened stack of letters collecting dust in the attic back home. She had heard nothing from her father for two years after he left. When at last a letter had arrived, Maggie had refused to read it. Grandmother had been understanding, Maggie remembered, but she had also engaged her granddaughter in discussions about forgiveness and God’s overall plan.

“Oh, Grandmother,” Maggie sighed.

She opened the bag and removed its contents one by one. There were a dozen or more biscuits, and Maggie knew they’d be the lightest, finest soda biscuits ever made. Next she pulled out several pieces of fruit and a large chunk of cheese that her grandmother had lovingly wrapped in an embroidered tea towel. Maggie reached down deep and touched something quite familiar. She began to sob. It was her grandmother’s Bible.

Maggie hugged the Bible to her chest and cried. Her pain grew more intense. She allowed the Bible to fall open. The final verse of the Old Testament loomed prophetically across the page: “ ‘And he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers, lest I come and smite the earth with a curse’ ” (Malachi 4:6).

“But this can’t be right,” Maggie said aloud, snapping the book shut. “Grandmother needs me, and I need her. My father hasn’t turned his heart to me, and I certainly won’t turn mine to him. Will You curse me without considering my side of the matter?”

Just then a knock sounded at the door, and Maggie began to tremble uncontrollably. Was it Garrett? What would she say?

Silently, Maggie placed the food in the carpetbag and set it on the floor. Then she eased down to the mattress, pulled her legs up under her, and feigned sleep. The knock sounded again, then the soft voice of the porter called her name. Finally, there was nothing.

Afraid to move, Maggie succumbed to the weariness that possessed her body and drifted into a fitful sleep. The day’s events combined with the heat had been too much.

Maggie dreamed of a field of prairie flowers. Tall Kansas sunflowers waved majestically above the knee-high prairie grass. Bachelor buttons and sweet williams dotted the landscape with vivid purples and blues. She was running and running across the prairie until she could feel her legs ache from the strain. She pushed herself to continue until the pain in her legs became unbearable. Maggie felt herself falling in slow motion. Down she went to the velvety softness of new prairie grass.

Someone was calling her name, and when she opened her eyes, she met the bluest eyes she’d ever known. Garrett Lucas!

Maggie struggled to move away from Garrett, but it was no use. Her legs were badly cramped, and the pain she’d felt in her dream had become a very real sensation.

“Don’t touch me!” Maggie winced in pain as she tried to move her legs.

“Stop fighting me. I’m not going to hurt you,” Garrett said gently as he tried to help Maggie sit up.

“I don’t want your help, and I don’t want you here. Why are you here?” she suddenly questioned, forgetting her fear.

“We’re in Florence. It’s a supper stop. I’ve only come to wake you up and take you to supper,” Garrett reasoned.

Maggie laughed nervously. “Supper? You think that I’m interested in eating? You waltz into my life, take me away from everything I love, tell me I have no choice—no say, and,” she paused, drawing a deep breath to steady her nerves, “you top it off by telling me that you—you, Garrett Lucas—are to be my husband. And now you act as if nothing has happened and come to take me to supper?” Maggie tried to pull away from Garrett but found herself pinned against the wall of her compartment.

“I told you to stop fighting me. I’m not going to hurt you. I have the highest respect for your father and for you,” said Garrett in a hushed whisper. Maggie could barely hear him above the noise of her own ragged breathing.

Garrett’a face was only a matter of inches from her own. Maggie swallowed hard and felt her face flush. She stopped fighting and matched Garrett’s stare with one of her own.

Neither one said a word. Suddenly, Maggie knew her life would never be the same. By some means, her father and Garrett would have their way. What made it worse was that Garrett sensed this understanding in her.

Garrett moved his face closer, and Maggie closed her eyes, certain that he would kiss her. She’d never been kissed before, and part of her wondered what it would feel like.

When nothing happened, Maggie opened her eyes to find Garrett had pulled away. He looked at her with smug satisfaction, and Maggie wanted to disappear. How could he stir such intense feelings that her anger melted away, leaving her helpless to fight him?

“Shall we go to supper?” Garrett drawled, enjoying the upper hand. He helped Maggie to her feet and steadied her as she waited for the blood to return to her legs.

“I suppose I have no other choice,” Maggie said soberly. “Lead me where you will, Mr. Lucas.”

Chapter 5

M
aggie went through the motions of eating dinner. She said very little, even though the food was some of the best she’d ever enjoyed. Maggie had never eaten at a Harvey House. She and her grandmother had always intended to do so but had never gotten to it.

Garrett had ordered the English-style baked veal pie for himself as well as Maggie. Accompanying the veal were fresh vegetables and a selection of salads, one of which was made with lobster brought in from the East.

Maggie wanted to show as little interest as possible, but her curiosity got the best of her once or twice. When the Harvey girl brought out dessert, Maggie nearly moaned.

“I don’t know where I could put another bite,” Maggie said to the young woman. “Just look at this piece of pie!”

Garrett smiled to himself, happy to see Maggie talking, if only to the Harvey girl.

“It’s a quarter slice, Ma’am. That’s the way Mister Harvey says it’s to be done. He doesn’t want his customers leaving the Harvey House hungry.” The girl curtsied.

“No chance of that,” Garrett joined in good-naturedly. The Harvey girl smiled appreciatively at Garrett, and for some reason, Maggie felt angry.

“If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Lucas,” Maggie said, getting to her feet. “I will have this young woman show me where I can freshen up.”

Garrett’s eyes narrowed. They sent Maggie a silent warning, but she merely tossed Garrett a smile over her shoulder and followed the Harvey girl from the room.

“You’ll find provisions to wash up at the end of the hall. The rest is out the back door,” the Harvey girl pointed. “I’ve got to return to my station now.”

Maggie lingered several minutes at the back door. It would be easy enough to slip from sight, but to where? If she left, Garrett would be right on her trail, and there would be no chance to escape before he found her.

She turned her attention to the pitcher of water on the alcove table. She poured a small amount into the bowl and took a fresh wash cloth from the stack beside the pitcher. Dipping the cloth over and over, Maggie managed to wash away most of the day’s grime. Taking a comb from her bag, Maggie tried to put her hair back in order. She’d lost several hairpins.

Convinced that she had done her best, Maggie started back down the hall. As she neared the entrance to the dining room, she noticed a large map of the state. The rail line was clearly outlined and included the many spurs that ran from the main line to a variety of small Kansas towns.

Maggie traced the route. There would be a variety of whistle stops in between, but Newton would offer her the best chance of getting home. A smile played on her lips. “We’ll see just how smug Garrett Lucas is when he wakes up in western Kansas and I’m gone,” Maggie whispered under her breath.

In the dining room, Garrett was finishing a cup of coffee. His relaxed appearance gave no hint of his inner turmoil. Four times, Garrett had checked on Maggie, making sure she hadn’t disappeared. Now as she took her seat across from him once again, he was captivated by the beauty he saw. Although he’d accused her of being a child, it was increasingly clear she was a young woman.

“The train’s been delayed,” he told Maggie. “We can wait it out here or on board. What’s your choice?”

Maggie said nothing, pretending to take sips of tea. Pushing the fine china cup back to its saucer, she forced herself to meet Garrett’s eyes.

“It is of little consequence to me, Mr. Lucas. I leave the matter entirely up to you,” she said icily. Each word had been carefully chosen and delivered.

“Very well. Let’s return to the train.” Garrett motioned toward the door. He left a generous tip of thirty cents and helped Maggie from her chair.

Maggie waited patiently while Garrett paid for the meal with money her father had provided. She felt angry at the thought of her father’s scheming but said nothing as Garrett lead her back to the train. Outside, the weather had turned chilly, and Maggie was glad she’d worn her heavy traveling suit.

Garrett walked slowly and made small talk about the town of Florence. Maggie feigned interest and even glanced north at the main part of town, but she breathed a sigh of relief when Garrett finally led her back to the train.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Garrett drawled, making note of Maggie’s sigh. “I don’t suppose you’d give up this playacting and talk to me.”

Maggie raised an eyebrow and lifted her face to meet Garrett’s inquisitive stare. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Mr. Lucas. I’m tired and confused, and as a spoiled and selfish child, I can’t imagine having anything to say that could be of interest to you.”

It was Garrett’s turn to sigh. “Maggie, that’s not true. First off, I wish you’d call me Garrett.”

“First? What next?” Maggie questioned in a sarcastic tone.

“Frankly, I wish you’d sit a spell with me. It’s early, and you’ll have plenty of time to rest later.” Garrett was as polite and considerate as Maggie had ever seen him.

“Very well—Garrett. I will sit with you,” Maggie said, trying to put Garrett’s mind at ease. It was important to make him believe she’d accepted her fate.

Garrett felt his chest tighten when Maggie said his name. He grinned broadly as he helped her board the train and led her down the aisle to the window seat.

For a moment, Garrett stood admiring Maggie’s profile. The lanterns above the aisles threw a mysterious glow. In their gentle light, Maggie looked more a woman than her seventeen years.

Maggie grew uncomfortable under Garrett’s detailed scrutiny. “What was it you wanted to discuss, Mr. Lu. . . , Garrett?” Maggie questioned, hoping he’d stop examining her face.

“Maggie, you don’t need to be afraid of me,” he said softly, taking the seat beside her.

“I’m not. . .” Her words trailed off. There was no sense in lying. “I guess it’s just a natural reaction,” she finally admitted.

“Of course,” Garrett agreed. “I wouldn’t expect anything else, but I want to put your mind at ease if I can.”

Maggie wished she could freeze the moment in time. The muted light of the train, the star-filled sky beyond the windows, and Garrett Lucas looking at her in a way no other man had ever done.

Garrett closed his brown, calloused hand over her small, soft fingers. Maggie’s breath caught in her throat. She tried to will herself to pull her hand away.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” she whispered without daring to look into Garrett’s blue eyes.

“Is that the truth, Maggie?” Garrett inquired, daring her to face her feelings. He knew playing upon those feelings might jeopardize the progress that had been made, but human nature urged him on.

Maggie touched her free hand to her forehead. “I can’t think clearly when you’re close by.”

Garrett laughed out loud, causing several of the train passengers to lift their eyes from newspapers and embroidery work. Maggie was grateful their nosey train companion had departed. Garrett gave Maggie’s hand a squeeze.

“That’s a good sign, Magdelena,
mi querida.”
he murmured, so low that Maggie could barely make out the words.

“What does that mean?” she questioned, not certain she wanted an answer.

“I’ll tell you later,” Garrett grinned. “I don’t think you could appreciate it right now.”

Maggie spoke out boldly. “A term of endearment, no doubt.” The warmth of Garrett’s hand seemed to radiate up her arm.

“Would you hate that so very much?” he inquired.

Maggie didn’t trust herself to answer. She lowered her face as she felt blood rush to her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Garrett said. “I shouldn’t have pressured you with something so intimate.”

“No,” Maggie whispered. “You shouldn’t have.” Silence fell like a heavy blanket between them. Maggie wished Garrett would remove his hand, but he didn’t.

“Don’t you have any questions about your father?” he asked. He hated to break the moment of intimacy by bringing up Jason’s name.

“I suppose I am curious,” Maggie said thoughtfully. She pulled her hand from Garrett’s, pretending to loosen the lace collar at her neck. What she said was the truth, and it couldn’t hurt to listen.

“Good. What would you like to know first?” Garrett questioned her as easily as if they’d been lifelong chums. This feeling of familiarity bothered Maggie.

“Start anywhere. I don’t know much at all. Grandmother used to share bits and pieces with me, but she knew how uncomfortable it made me,” Maggie replied absentmindedly.

“Why, Maggie? Why did it make you uncomfortable to hear about your father?” Garrett pried, hoping Maggie would answer truthfully.

“Because he’d hurt me so badly,” Maggie blurted out. She couldn’t help the tears that formed in her eyes. She turned her face to the window, but Garrett reached across, compelling her to face him.

“Sometimes it’s necessary to open up a wound, to clean it out and let it heal. Life’s like that too, Maggie,” he said softly.

Maggie wiped a single tear away as it slid down her cheek. “Some wounds never heal, Garrett.”

“They can with God’s help. ‘My heart is sore pained within me: and the terrors of death are fallen upon me.’ That’s from Psalms,” Garrett offered.

“You know the Bible?” Maggie questioned in disbelief.

“Not as well as I’d like to, but I suppose more than some. I found religion a way of life when I was young. But it wasn’t until after I lost my parents that I learned what a relationship with Jesus Christ was about,” Garrett answered.

“I didn’t know your parents were dead. What happened to them?” Maggie questioned, steering the conversation away from the issue of salvation.

“Their wagon overturned on a mountain road. They were hauling goods back from Santa Fe and never came home. I was twelve at the time.”

“How awful,” Maggie gasped. “What did you do?”

“I did the only thing I could do,” Garrett shrugged. “I mourned their passing and was packed off to Denver to live with an aging aunt.”

“You had no other family?” Maggie was suddenly quite interested.

“None. My mother’s sister was quite a bit older. She was the only living
relative I had in the world. Life out West isn’t easy on people,” Garrett reflect
ed. “My aunt died two years later, and I took off on my own.”

“Where did you meet my father?”

“I’d wandered down to Santa Fe,” Garrett said, smiling sadly. “I was nearing my fifteenth birthday and feeling pretty sorry for myself. Here I was, a young man alone in the world. I was just existing, not really living. I felt God had deserted me. That’s when your father came on the scene.

“I was sweeping out a livery stable for a man in Santa Fe. He paid me twenty cents a week and let me sleep in the loft. It wasn’t much, and I was getting pretty tired of it. My parents and aunt had left me some money, but I couldn’t touch it until I turned twenty-one. Since my fifteenth birthday was coming up, I figured I’d take my week’s wages and blow it at the saloon.

“I’d never been to a saloon, but I guzzled down as much rotgut as I could buy. I sat there nursing the last few drops in my glass, when it hit my head and stomach at the same time. I made a mad dash for the back door and the alley. That’s where I met your pa.”

“My father?” Maggie asked surprised.

“He happened to be walking down the alley just then. Most nights he’d walk for hours by himself. You have to remember, he’d just come to this territory. He’d lost your mother and baby son and had had to leave behind a baby daughter. If I had been five minutes later to the alley, I’d have missed him all together.”

“What happened?”

“I thought I was dying, but your father helped me, and when it was all over, we shared our troubles. Your father offered me the use of his hotel room, and we fast became friends.”

“My father was depressed because of Mother’s death, wasn’t he?” Maggie asked, picking at imaginary lint on her skirt.

“Not really. Jason, your father that is, said he believed his wife was safe
ly in heaven with your brother. He showed me where the Bible said there’d be no sorrow in heaven, so he knew she was happy. What he couldn’t abide was his need to separate his life from yours.”

“Me? I was the reason he was so unhappy?” Maggie wanted to change the subject, yet in her heart she wanted to understand the years that had separated her from her father.

“He told me all he wanted to do was work so hard he could go to sleep without seeing your face. He told me how you’d stood at the gate, tears streaming down your face, calling for him over and over,” Garrett paused, knowing Maggie was filled with the pain of this memory. He reached his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.

Maggie allowed Garrett to hold her. She no longer hated her father for leaving her. What else could he have done? She had deserved to be left behind.

After a few minutes, Maggie composed herself and pulled away from the sanctuary of Garrett’s strong arms.

“He just kept walking. He never looked back,” Maggie began. I ran the length of the fence calling him. I knew he blamed me for my mother’s death. I needed so much to know he still loved me, but he said nothing.”

“He couldn’t, Maggie. Not and still walk away, and if he’d stayed, he knew he’d be forever lost in his remorse and sorrow. It couldn’t have been an easy decision,” Garrett answered gently. “I can just see you as a little girl, standing there waiting for him by the gate, day after day.”

“How did you know?” Maggie’s surprised expression matched her tone.

“Your father told me, and I would imagine your grandmother told him. Maybe she thought it’d make him come home. Maybe she thought it would turn him around.”

“But it didn’t,” Maggie said sadly.

“No, it didn’t, but there is another reason your father sent for you rather than traveling to Topeka himself,” Garrett said in a way that demanded her attention.

“What?” Maggie questioned.

“If you’ll recall, your grandmother mentioned your father hasn’t been well.”

“Yes,” Maggie murmured.

“Your father always intended to make things right. He thought if he gave you enough time, you’d outgrow your hatred. But now he doesn’t have that luxury.”