A Dream to Call My Own (3 page)

“I think I’ll just go on up.”

Jerry laughed. “Sounds wise.”

CHAPTER THREE

“It’s getting late,” Dave said.

The clock chimed nine and startled Lacy. She looked at the rather domestic scene before her. Dave sat reading the Bible by the fire while she busied herself mending some shirts she’d seen Patience working on earlier. She’d picked up the work out of desperation to keep her hands busy. Now, however, it only served to remind her of what life might be like married to Dave Shepard.

“Did you hear me?” he asked.

Lacy nodded. “I heard you and the clock.”

All evening, Lacy had wanted to make an excuse to leave Dave. She’d wanted the safety of her bedroom, for fear of saying or doing the wrong thing. Just being around him made her so nervous that she couldn’t think straight. When had this happened? When had he made her anything but frustrated and angry?

She cast a quick glance at him. “I don’t think the storm is letting up.”

He put his Bible aside and went to the window. “No. I think if anything, it’s worse. We’ll probably hear it blowing all night. I’ll stoke up the fire, but the rooms will probably be chilly. If you need extra quilts, Ma keeps a stack of them in the cedar chest in her room.”

Tucking the sewing back into the basket beside her chair, Lacy got to her feet. “Good night, then.”

She didn’t even look at Dave for fear of what he might do. The day had been so very taxing, and Lacy found her mind overwhelmed with thoughts. Confusion held her cornered like an animal trapped by hunters.

Making her way to the upstairs room, Lacy closed the door behind her and set the latch. She leaned against the door and wrapped her arms around her body. What was happening to her? She felt weak and strange.
Maybe I’m sick
, she thought. She reached up to feel her own forehead.

She’d first noticed the sensations at supper, a touch of restlessness that she had accounted to the weather. Worse still, there was a tightness in her stomach and her heart seemed to race, leaving her rather breathless. She had cooked a meal for her and Dave to share, and when they’d sat down together, Lacy had found it all so uncomfortably intimate. The table was set for two and the lamp cast a golden glow around the room. Dave’s features didn’t look nearly so gruff and stern—in fact, he was more than a little bit handsome.

The wind howled and rattled the windows across the room. Lacy startled and felt herself almost cowering.

I’m not at all myself. It takes more than this to upset me.

Lacy straightened and relaxed her arms. This was completely silly. She was a strong woman—capable of enduring a winter storm. She drew a deep breath. So what if it trapped her at the Shepard ranch? So what if she and Dave were forced to endure each other’s company for several days?

“I’m quite able to suffer his presence, no matter how long it takes. I simply need to be sensible about it.”

Lacy knew that even if the storm abated in the night, they would be hard-pressed to leave tomorrow. After all, even if she and Dave could manage to get to Gallatin House on horseback, Jerry and Patience would find it nearly impossible to get a wagon through the typical drifts that blocked the roads after such blizzards. Someone would need to stay at the ranch and care for the horses and milk cows if they couldn’t make it back.

Lacy crossed the room to the small dressing table and sat down. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and wondered why the woman who stared back looked so terrified.

“It’s just a storm,” she said and began taking down her hair.

But she knew it was more than the storm. Her thoughts were betraying her. She had feelings for Dave she couldn’t explain—feelings she was terrified to explore. When had he become something more than an irritation in her life? When had he changed from the roadblock to finding her father’s killer to a man who made her heart race and knees grow weak?

Her sisters had often suggested that he cared for her, and Gwen had commented more than once that they made a nice couple. But Lacy had always put aside such thoughts.

She touched her lips and thought of the times Dave had kissed her. She’d enjoyed it more than she cared to admit. Picking up the hairbrush, Lacy studied her face as she began to stroke through the cinnamon-colored mass.

“Exactly what do I feel for him?” she begged the woman reflected there.

Rafe Reynolds threw a broken beer mug into the crate of trash. The storm was keeping his business to a nonexistent state. He hadn’t had a single customer all night, so they’d used the time to spruce things up. Now, however, there wasn’t much left to be done.

Cubby crossed the saloon, and Rafe couldn’t help but notice his son had grown up practically overnight. He was at least six feet tall, his hair the color of his mother’s. Rafe grimaced. Maryland. He hadn’t thought about her in years. She had been a feisty girl, six years his junior and named for her prostitute mother’s home state. Pretty and blond, she had used her looks to make her way in life, and Rafe had fallen hard for her.

At nineteen, she had waltzed into town as if she owned the place. Men were immediately drawn to her—Rafe included. She had a way about her that held everyone captive. Rafe had wanted her from the start. But not for the brothel or other men. He wanted Maryland for himself. And he thought she’d felt the same.

He had suggested they marry almost before she’d settled in. Maryland had laughed and instead told Rafe that she had no intention of chaining herself down to one man or place. This surprised Rafe greatly. Most single women were actively pursuing a husband. Maryland had suggested, instead, that they simply have a good time together and see where it took them. Rafe was captivated.

“I’m going to bed, Pa,” Cubby announced.

“We got enough wood?” Rafe asked in a gruff manner.

“Yeah. I brought in enough to last a couple of days. We’ll be warm enough. The girls have plenty, too.”

Rafe nodded and said nothing more. He watched his son leave the room and let out a long, heavy breath. Why had things gone so wrong? Rafe had loved Maryland. He was happy when she announced that she was pregnant with his child. Even then, however, she hadn’t wanted to marry him. Rafe had argued the point with her, desperately wanting to give her his undying love and his child a name. She thought him old-fashioned and silly.

“The boy can have your name,” she had told Rafe, “but I like my own well enough to keep it for myself.”

Rafe poured himself a whiskey and tossed it back. She hadn’t known how her statement had hurt him. Maryland hadn’t cared about anyone but herself, as was evident in her desertion of Rafe and Cubby when the latter had only been eight weeks old. She’d left nothing behind but the baby and had even taken all of the money Rafe had put aside to purchase a house for his little family.

The prostitutes in the brothel helped him care for the boy, but they could do nothing to ease Rafe’s misery. Finally one of the women suggested he go after Maryland while they took care of Cubby. Rafe had jumped at the opportunity. For some stupid reason, he had been convinced that he would win her back. Instead, he showed up two days later in a town some fifty miles away, only to learn that she’d gotten herself killed in a saloon fight. Rafe had paid for her burial, but the matter had forever hardened his heart against women. Maryland had used him, and he couldn’t forgive her.

The roar of the winter winds outside only served to chill Rafe to the bone. He poured another glass of whiskey. This time he nursed it slowly, feeling the burning liquid slide down his throat.

Cubby was all he had in this world for family. Yet the boy caused him pain and grief every time Rafe looked at him. Many had been the time he’d wanted to abandon Cubby, but something always held him back. Maybe it was the need to hold on to that little piece of Maryland. Maybe it was the desire to leave something of himself behind and have a say in how the boy became a man.

“Well, that ain’t exactly worked out the way I’d hoped, neither.” Rafe drank the remaining liquor and got to his feet. There was no sense in remembering the past or even contemplating the future.

Lacy awoke with a start. Her dreams had turned to nightmares, marked by the storm outside, as well as the one within. She’d dreamed that Gwen had died giving birth to her baby because Lacy couldn’t find the doctor. Then Beth had gone into labor and died, as well. Throwing back the covers, Lacy shivered at the chill of the room. She hurried into a robe Patience had lent her and paced the drafty room. The room seemed to suffocate her, and Lacy longed only for the warmth of the fire and the light of day. She could do nothing about the latter but knew that the fire could still offer her comfort. Of course, leaving her room might force her to encounter Dave.

She contemplated that for several minutes and felt a moment of disgust as she realized she would love to have his comfort. Pulling back the latch, Lacy paused. She wanted him to be awake. She wanted him to hear her and come to her.

Without concern about the noise she made, Lacy hurried downstairs and into the front room. She paused at the sight of a man silhouetted against the fire. Dave. She watched him for a moment as he stirred up the flames and put another log on the fire. It was as if she’d known he would be there. He replaced the poker then turned to find her watching him. He didn’t seem any more surprised at her appearance than she had been at his. In fact, when he crossed the distance between them and took her in his arms, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re trembling. Are you cold?”

She nodded, and he led her to the fire. Without completely letting go of her, Dave positioned Lacy close enough to regain her warmth. She looked up at him. Her fingers ached to touch his face, but Lacy refrained from showing any emotion.

“You’re still shaking,” he murmured.

Lacy knew it wasn’t from the cold this time. Time seemed to stand still. Dave’s gaze pierced Lacy’s guarded heart. It was like he could read her thoughts and knew exactly what her feelings were.

He reached out and put his hand against her cheek. “Lacy, why do you have to make it so tough on yourself? On us?”

She shook her head, barely able to think rationally. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do.” He pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth with his lips.

Lacy felt the wind go out from her. She fought against her desire to wrap her arms around Dave’s neck, and lost. His kiss deepened, and Lacy felt him bend her backward ever so slightly. She was lost. Lost to her emotions and his will. She wanted the moment to go on forever.

Dave’s mouth left her lips and trailed along her cheek and neck. Lacy couldn’t suppress a moan. Something in the back of her mind told her things were out of control—warned her to stop.

And then with unexpected swiftness, Dave pushed her away and turned. “I’m sorry. I should never have done that.” He crossed the room in long determined strides and was gone. Lacy crumpled to the ground and put her hands to her head.

“What have I done?”

Her wanton response caused her cheeks to blaze in embarrassment. Dave would surely hate her now. She’d acted no differently than one of Rafe’s girls. She buried her face against her bent knees.

“Oh, forgive me, Lord,” she whispered. “Forgive me . . . Dave.”

Dave Shepard paced his room, uncertain what to do. He certainly couldn’t just go to sleep, as he should have done hours ago. He could still feel Lacy warm and soft in his arms. He could still feel her lips against his.

Shaking his head, he walked to the window. He could only pray the storm would let up, and that God would help him to keep his longings in check. Lacy would surely think even worse of him now.

He had done them both a disservice. He had come much too close to compromising everything he believed in.

“But I love her so much,” he whispered. “I want her to be with me forever. I only wanted to convince her that my feelings for her are real.”

He looked back at the closed and locked door of his bedroom. She was just on the other side. Maybe locked in her own room now. Maybe still standing by the fire. Either way, she was out there, and he wanted her more than he wanted his next breath.

“Help me, Lord. I never meant to dishonor you or her. Forgive me.”

It was very nearly a sunless morning that Beth awoke to. She found Nick already dressing for the day and hurried to match his efforts.

“Is it still snowing?”

“Yup. I figure I need to tend the horses, though. They were set well enough for yesterday, but I need to get over there and make sure they have water and feed.”

“Can I help?”

“No. I want you and Justin to stay inside. I’ll tie a line to the house so I can find my way from the barn if the snow blinds my way.” He looked at her and smiled. “I like your hair down like that.”

Beth touched her hand to her long tresses. “It must look frightful right now.”

He came to her and reached out to still her hand. “No, it’s beautiful.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You are such a flirt, Mr. Lassiter.” She kissed him lightly on the lips, then turned to get her hairbrush. “I shall have to prepare something special for your breakfast.”

He chuckled and moved toward the door. “I’ll get Justin up.”

Beth finished dressing her hair, then made her way downstairs. She was surprised to find Patience already busy in the kitchen. “You’re a guest in our house,” Beth declared. “I won’t have you working.”

Patience laughed. “I feel like you gals are family. Besides, I would lose my mind without something to keep me busy. I checked on Gwen and the baby already, and they’re both doing fine—although I’m not entirely convinced that Hank will survive. I thought seeing the baby born safe and sound would reassure him, but he seems more nervous than ever.”

“Nick told me he was fit to be tied last night. Poor brother-in-law of mine. I have half a mind to make him some special oatmeal.”

“How kind,” Patience said, turning back to check the coffee.

Beth grinned. It wasn’t a kindness she was thinking about but rather a prank. She’d made some nearly unpalatable oatmeal for Hank on another occasion, and even to this day, he always looked at anything Beth prepared with an eye to caution.