Winter Hearts (22 page)

“No,” Sam said through tears and sniffles. “How could I drown with you right there to save me? I was scared, but I knew you’d get me out.”

A lump formed in Luke’s throat, and his eyes brimmed. Sam really had that much trust in him. “Stop crying, then. Be a man.”

“Men cry sometimes.”

“Not the men I know.”

Sam sniffed and went quiet.

“Did you read the
Boston Globe
?” He had to ask; it was driving him mad.

“No.”

Was he telling the truth? “I thought you’d want to know what was going on in Boston.”

“Not especially.” Sam pushed back the sheet and moved so he was lying on his side with his head resting in Luke’s groin. Just feeling Sam’s warm breath on his cock made it thicken. Sam grasped Luke’s cock in his hand and drew it into his mouth. Luke did not protest, though part of him wanted to. He wanted Sam to tell him the truth. If Luke had to force it out of him, it wasn’t the same as him freely admitting who he was and that he had lied. At that moment, however, the only reality was Sam’s mouth on his cock, bringing him inexorably toward his climax.

Luke moaned loudly when his pleasure rushed forth. He grabbed Sam’s head, twining his fingers through Sam’s long hair. Afterward Sam lay for a long time with his face resting on Luke’s thigh, his lips still touching Luke’s cock. When at last he moved, he kissed Luke’s cock before lying beside him again, nuzzling his way into Luke’s arms like a puppy finding contentment in his master’s lap. He was asleep long before Luke, who lay awake wondering what to do next.

Chapter Eighteen

“That combine harvester saved so much work,” Luke said with satisfaction after their supper was eaten. “The crop is ready to go to the mill in town to sell. I’ll have money to put in the bank. Do you have a bank account?” For the past week Luke had given Sam many opportunities to tell him the truth, but he was still waiting.

“No. Put the money in your account. You did all the work anyway.”

“We own the land together. We agreed to share everything.”

“Only your name is on the claim application, so by law it’s yours,” Sam said. “You’re hot and covered in dirt. Shall I haul some water and make you a bath?”

“It’s not Saturday,” Luke said.

“Let’s break with tradition.” Sam grinned.

“Just haul up a bucket and pour it over me. I’ll strip off.”

The moment Sam left the shanty, Luke looked over at the newspaper. It lay on top of the cedar chest now. The mason jars were full of good things and sitting in the root cellar. All week while Luke worked on the combine, Sam had been canning tomatoes, beans, carrots, ground cherries, everything they had grown that would keep better in jars. The young man’s interest in the combine had lasted a couple of hours before he’d gone back to the shanty to work indoors. Luke had been just as happy to get on with the mowing by himself.

He stripped naked and went outside with the soap from the hand-washing bucket. There was no one within miles who might see him, but the country was changing so fast that there’d be a time before he knew it when he wouldn’t be able to bathe outside. He went around the side of the shanty while Sam brought over a bucket of fresh water.

“Water fresh from the well is freezing cold,” he said.

“I know,” Luke told him. “Pour it over me.” He leaned forward so Sam could pour it over his close-cropped head first. When the icy water hit him, he bellowed, making Sam laugh.

“I told you it was icy.”

“Shut up and go and fill that bucket again.” Luke soaped himself all over while Sam obeyed. The days were cooler now but still warm enough that he was not shivering. Sam returned with another bucketful of water. Slowly he poured it over Luke while Luke rubbed away the soap. “That was a fast bath. We should do it that way more often.”

“Not me,” Sam said.

“No. I guess you’re too refined to take a bath with a bucket of cold water outdoors.”

Brow furrowed, Sam looked at him. “What does that mean?”

“It’s just something to say.” Luke strode inside, tracking water behind him, and found one of the soft linen towels Sam had brought with him. Sam followed him inside, and taking another towel, he got on his knees to dry Luke’s legs. Naked, Luke went to the dry sink to look in the mirror. “I need a shave. I’m going into town tomorrow to take the wheat to the mill. Get me some water from the stove.” They always kept a pot warming on the cookstove.

“You’re bossy today,” Sam said, fetching the water and pouring it into the dry sink. “In fact, you’ve been bossy all week. Bossy and unfriendly.”

Luke made no response. Looking in the mirror, he shaved his face with care and then rinsed off the soap. That done, he pulled on his trousers and boots again. “I’m going out to put the animals in the barn.”

The sun was going down over the vast prairie, streaking the sky with pink and gold. It was beautiful country, a place Luke thought he could live forever and be happy with the man he had fallen in love with. Now everything was different. Sam was a liar. He was a rich boy who would soon grow tired of living the life of a farmer. Sam had said he was an only son, but he was a liar, so maybe he wasn’t. Either way he would inherit a lot of money, and he’d be expected to marry like Holland and live a life Luke could have no part of.

He wrapped his arms around Pretty Girl’s neck and hugged her. “It’ll be just you and me again, Pretty.”

On his way out, he fastened the barn door against wolves and went back to the house just as the light was fading. Sam had lit the lamp and set it in the middle of the table. The pickle jar was there also, filled with Michaelmas daises and goldenrod. The curtains were closed, and the dinner dishes were washed and put away.

Sam stood up when Luke walked in. Without pause he said, “Tell me what I’ve done.”

This couldn’t go on. Luke wanted Sam to tell him the truth of his own accord, but he also wanted to get this out in the open once and for all. “You’re a fucking liar, that’s what.”

“What?”

The hurt, confused look on Sam’s face had Luke thinking for a moment that he had genuinely mistaken the Samuel Porter-Smith in the
Boston Globe
for his Sam Smith. Luke went over to the cedar chest and picked up the paper. He opened it to the picture, carried it over to Sam, and shoved it in his face. “Is that you?”

Taking the paper from him, Sam looked at the picture. His confused expression was replaced instantly with guilt. He met Luke’s gaze but said nothing.

“Is it you?” Luke demanded.

Sam lay the paper on the table, looking again at the picture. “Yes, it’s me,” he said very quietly.

“What?” Luke asked loudly.

“Yes. It’s me!”

Jabbing the picture of Holland with his forefinger, Luke said, “That’s Holland. You’ve known him all along.”

“Yes,” Sam replied. “How long have you known?”

“Since I got that paper last week. Fuller pointed you out to me. By now the whole town will know who you are. They’ll think I want you for your money.”

“I’ll tell them you don’t,” Sam said. “I’ll say you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t know!” Luke bellowed. “How could I? You lied. Your father works in a tannery. You worked in a hotel. Did you think all that up on the spur of the moment, or did you come to De Smet planning to lie?”

“No, Luke, no. I came to De Smet to make my own way. To see what I could do on my own without my family’s name and money.”

“Holland sent you here,” Luke said, even though he knew that wasn’t true; his anger was making him crazy. “He told you about me.”

“That’s just plain stupid!” Sam burst out. “I haven’t even spoken to Holland Endicott since before I went to Harvard and then only briefly. We go to a lot of the same social gatherings, and my family and his do business together. I’ve never been his friend.”

“You went to Harvard? Is that where you studied farming?” Luke asked scathingly.

“They don’t teach farming at Harvard. I studied law.”

“That’s where you learned to be a liar,” Luke said. “Lawyers are known for lying.”

“Luke, please.” Sam came around the table to him with his arms out. “I never meant to lie. I just wanted to be plain Sam Smith for a while. I didn’t know the man you’d been in love with was Holland. I didn’t know till the day we moved and I looked at the picture.”

“That was in May. It’s October, and you didn’t think you should tell me before now?” Luke pushed him away. “Don’t touch me.”

Sam lowered his arms. “I love you, Luke. I should have been honest with you, but misleading you doesn’t change my love.”

“Mislead? You lied. You outright lied.” All the things he had wanted to say this past week boiled over now that he had started. “I should kick your little rich-boy ass for you.”

“Do it if you want, but don’t stop loving me.”

“I should never have said I loved you,” Luke said at once. “It’s not true. I lied, just like you lied.”

The shock on Sam’s face nearly broke Luke’s heart, but anger swamped his pity. “What did your mother say in those letters you burned? Does she want you to come home?”

“Yes.”

“You’d better tell me the truth. All of it. Now.” With his arms crossed, Luke sat down at the table, and Sam sat opposite.

With his chin down, avoiding eye contact, Sam said, “My name is Samuel Porter-Smith the third. My family is rich, and I’m the only son. My sisters are older and both married. My parents found out when I was at Harvard that I liked men.”

“Look at me, boy,” Luke said in a tone that he knew Sam wouldn’t dare disobey. “How did they find out?”

Sam met his gaze squarely. “My parents know Charles Eliot, the university president. He wrote to them and told them about Courtland and other boys. I played around a lot.”

The worst thought that could possibly come into Luke’s mind did, and then tumbled from his lips. “Did you play around with Holland?”

“No! He’s way too old.” The look of horror on Sam’s face told Luke he was telling the truth. “Truth be told, I can’t imagine what you saw in him.”

“Me neither,” Luke said. “He did what you did, pretended to be an ordinary man. He lied and used me. He never had any intention of sticking around.”

“I’m sorry.” Sam leaned forward but made no attempt to touch him. “Luke, I love you.”

“Yeah, sure you do.” He wasn’t about to believe much of what Sam said at this point. “People who love you don’t lie to you. I’ve never lied to you.”

“When I got to De Smet, I never even thought about falling in love. I just wanted to get as far away as I could from my parents. All they did was nag and argue with me about not wanting to marry. I told them I couldn’t get married just to suit them, just to make the family happy. I told them I couldn’t do it and I wasn’t going to.”

Luke looked at the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. “I’ll take the wheat to town tomorrow. I’ll have to make a few trips with the wagon. I reckon you should get about a quarter of what I’ll get for it at the mill.”

“I don’t want any of the money from the wheat. You bought the seed, most of it anyway. You did the work. I don’t need money.”

“No, you’ll inherit a fortune one day from your father.” Luke could not even begin to guess how much the Porter-Smiths were worth, but he was sure it was more money than he could conceive. In the mines he had worked like a donkey for three years, and he’d saved eight hundred dollars. Compared to most men in De Smet, he was wealthy, but unlike Morley, he kept it to himself. He could easily afford to build a house next year and hire labor to help him.

“Yes, but I also inherited fifty thousand dollars from my grandfather’s estate on my eighteenth birthday. Since you want to know everything about me, there it is.”

As if someone had punched him in the jaw, Luke stared for a moment. Fifty thousand dollars. It was unimaginable. Sam could buy up the entire town if he wanted and have money left over. Shaking his head, Luke looked away. Sam really had played the poor boy, claiming to have worked in a hotel. It was all a joke to him.

“In the morning you can pack your stuff and leave.” Luke stood up. “I’m going to bed. I’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

“I’m not leaving,” Sam said.

Luke stripped, throwing his trousers on the floor. “You’ll leave, or I’ll throw you out.” He got into bed and turned his back on Sam.

For a long time Luke lay unable to sleep. Sam put out the lamp, stripped, and got into bed. He snuggled up to Luke’s back and placed one arm over Luke’s side, reaching for his cock. Luke slapped his hand away. “Go to sleep, or you can go to the barn. We’re done. I’m not touching you again.”

Sam turned his back and moved as far from Luke as was possible for two men in a double bed.

Chapter Nineteen

The pleasure of the money Luke had made from his wheat crop was blunted by Sam’s deceit. All he wanted was to see the back of him. Yet the very thought of living without Sam’s devotion and sweetness, not to mention his physical presence, especially in bed at night, made him feel lonely even though the young man was still there three days after he’d told him to get out.

When breakfast was eaten, Luke said, “I’m going to look at the barn and the corral fence to see if I need to make any repairs. While I’m gone, you can pack your things.”

Carrying the dishes to the dry sink, Sam said, without looking at him, “I’m not going anywhere, and it’s time we used the porcelain dishes I brought with me. I’m sick of eating out of tin plates and mugs. Can you bring some with you from the barn when you’re done?”

Instantly inflamed that Sam was going against him, Luke replied, “I want you out of my goddamned house with your lies and your fancy ways.”

Dropping the dishes into the sink with a loud clatter, Sam said calmly, “I wish you wouldn’t take the Lord’s name in vain.”

“To hell with you and your stupid religion,” Luke bellowed. “Isn’t there something in the Bible about lying?” So enraged he feared he might hit Sam, he walked out of the house into the bright, breezy morning.

The barn, being nearly new, was in perfect condition, just like the corral fence. So, needing something physical to do, Luke took the yard broom and swept the hard-packed dirt floor of the barn until not a straw was out of place. Every now and then he’d look out toward the shanty to see if Sam was putting his things outside to load into his wagon. There was absolutely no sign of activity, and he didn’t know whether to feel relieved or angry.