A Dream to Call My Own (5 page)
“No,” she murmured.
“You know it’s what you want—you know it’s right.”
She closed her eyes and gave in to the power of her emotions. “Yes.” She barely breathed the word.
Dave let her go. “Yes, what?”
She sighed. “I’ll marry you.”
“Do you promise?”
Lacy opened her eyes and nodded. Before she could take it back she answered, “Yes.”
His eyes were dark with passion, and Lacy knew in that moment there was no possibility of telling him no. She wanted him to kiss her again—to hold her in his arms forever. She might regret her decision tomorrow, but for the moment, Lacy would have rather died than move from Dave’s arms.
The snowstorm finally let up the following night, leaving everything covered in a white blanket that reflected the moon’s light, making it as bright as day. Lacy stared out the bedroom window and thought of all that had happened. She and Dave had said very little about marriage after she’d agreed to his proposal. Each had found ways to keep busy elsewhere throughout the day, as if realizing they needed the time apart to sort through any misgivings.
Lacy was full of doubts and questions. She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to marry Dave. It was a mistake. A big mistake. She would have to find some way to convince Dave that it just couldn’t work. If he agreed, then it wouldn’t be like she was breaking her promise.
“Why did I ever promise to marry him?” she murmured.
It wasn’t like she couldn’t take it back, but breaking a pledge was something she couldn’t easily do. She’d always struggled with such things. It was the reason she hadn’t wanted to promise Gwen that she’d give up looking for their father’s murderer.
“But you did break that promise, and you can surely break this one,” she told herself.
Yet she couldn’t bring herself to figure out if she honestly wanted to break the engagement. Dave was right about one thing—something happened when they were together. He said he loved her.
“He loves me?” she questioned. Lacy still couldn’t understand how that could be possible.
She thought of her sisters and the life they’d known together. They had always been so close. It had been necessary to work together to keep the household running. Their father had worked hard, too, but now that Lacy was grown, it was easy to see where his incompetence had nearly cost them everything. George Gallatin had been a good soul—well-liked by his neighbors and friends, beloved of his daughters—but the man had little ability for earning a living or keeping to a budget.
Lacy hadn’t realized until that moment that much of her hesitation to unite her life to that of another had to do with her fears of what that might mean. If her husband were like her father, it could prove to be more work and sorrow than she knew even now. She had once accused Dave of being lazy and not doing his job properly, but Lacy knew that wasn’t the truth. So why worry about whether or not he could support a wife and family?
It would be dawn soon, Lacy figured. She couldn’t bear to face another conversation with Dave—not until she could think through everything and decide what needed to be done.
She gathered her things and decided to go home. It wouldn’t be easy with the deep snowdrifts, but her horse was a good one, and Lacy knew they could find their way. For a moment, she thought about leaving Dave a note, then decided against it.
What can I say? What could I possibly put on paper that would
explain the fears and anxiety I have?
Her chest felt tight, as if an iron band had wrapped itself around her. Lacy swallowed hard, feeling close to tears. “I’m not going to cry,” she admonished herself aloud. “It would be silly to cry.”
She took up her saddlebags and gave a quick glance around the room. The single candle didn’t afford her much light, but Lacy could see well enough to know she’d left nothing behind. Opening the door, Lacy listened to hear if there was any sound coming from downstairs. With any luck, Dave would still be asleep.
The hallway floor creaked as Lacy tiptoed to the stairs. She grimaced, hoping that Dave wouldn’t be awakened by her departure. She felt marginally guilty for making this hasty retreat. What would he think of her? Would he realize just how silly she was and take back his proposal? Would he hate her?
“I could never hate you,”
he had told her.
Lacy felt her eyes blur with tears. Why couldn’t he just despise her, or at least feel indifferent? This wouldn’t have to be so hard if he didn’t care about her so much.
She hurried down the stairs and out the back door. To her surprise, it wasn’t nearly as cold as it had been. Perhaps a Chinook wind would blow through to warm everything up and melt away their blanket of white. It wasn’t unusual to see heavy snow one day and have it gone the next.
Dave had kept a nice path shoveled to the barn. Instead of walking through a foot or more of snow, Lacy found the last of the storm had deposited only a matter of inches. She easily traversed the icy path and pushed open the barn door.
She found the lantern and hurried to strike a match. But in the dim light it was difficult to see what she was doing. The gelding whinnied softly and danced nervously as Lacy attempted to secure the saddle. Her mind flooded with memories of another desperate horse ride.
“You ride better than any of us,”
seven-year-old Beth had told her.
“You have to go find Pa.”
Gwen had nodded solemnly.
“We’ll care for Mother, but you
must hurry. She’s bleeding.”
A sob broke from Lacy’s throat. She leaned her face against the cold leather saddle.
Mother had smiled weakly at her from the bed.
“Don’t be
afraid,”
she had told her five-year-old daughter.
“Everything will
be just fine.”
“But it wasn’t, Mama,” Lacy whispered. “And it’s not now, either.”
Lacy couldn’t have stopped the tears that now flowed down her cheeks any more than she could have forced yesterday’s storm to abate. She clung to the saddle horn and cried.
How can I marry you, Dave?
She asked the question over and over in her mind.
How
can I marry him when I am such a wretched mess? He doesn’t know
about me—about this. It’s not fair to burden him with my guilt and
sorrow. I’ve failed so many people throughout my life. How can I pos
sibly marry and risk failing him, as well?
And it wasn’t just Dave. What if there were children? And why shouldn’t there be? What if she gave birth and raised sons and daughters, only to fail them? Lacy couldn’t even bear the thought.
What can I do to make this right?
She stiffened as someone embraced her from behind. Lacy had no doubt it was Dave. She fit too well in his arms. She turned and buried her face against his chest, feeling her felt hat fall by the wayside as she pressed against him. Her arms wrapped around his waist as best they could, and Lacy held fast.
Dave hadn’t known what to expect when he found Lacy’s prints in the snow. He’d feared that perhaps she’d left in the night, but then he realized she had to still be there. There were no horse tracks coming from the barn. There wasn’t even another set of boot prints to reveal that Lacy had returned to the house.
The soft glow of lantern light had easily guided him, but more so it was the sound of crying that drew Dave to the stall where Lacy stood against her mount. His heart nearly broke for the vulnerable young woman. She seemed years—even a decade—his junior as she cried.
Taking hold of her had been the most natural thing in the world. Dave had worried she would fight him off, but instead, she had welcomed his touch. With her face buried tightly against his coat, she clung to him as if she were drowning and he were her only hope of rescue.
Dave stroked Lacy’s hair and tried to think of something soothing to say. He didn’t know why she’d fallen apart like this. He suspected she was running away from him—from the feelings she had for him. Had those emotions caused her to break down?
“It’s . . . it’s . . . not fair,” she murmured, her voice ragged.
“What’s not fair?” Dave asked.
“You. This.” She shook her head against him. “Not fair.”
“I don’t understand, Lacy.” He loosened his hold and raised her face gently. “Look at me and tell me what this is all about.”
She opened her reddened eyes. “I’m so confused. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want this.” She shook her head again. “No, I did, but . . . oh, I can’t explain it.”
He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “What are you afraid of?”
She laughed, but it was anything but an expression of glee. “You. Marriage. Failing yet another person.”
Dave smiled. “Is that all?”
Lacy pushed away from him. “Is that all?” She wiped her eyes on her coat sleeve. “Isn’t that enough?”
“I don’t know.” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. “Should it be?”
“Oh, Dave, you have no idea of who I am.” She looked at the rafters. “I’m a mess. I’m more trouble than even you want to deal with.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
When her eyes found his again, Dave wanted only to take her in his arms again. Mercy, but the woman could stir his blood. He held fast, however, sensing that it was more than a little important that Lacy air her fears and thoughts.
“It’s not fair.” She waved her arms and the gelding shied away. “It’s not fair. I don’t want to feel like this.”
“Like what, Lacy?”
“I don’t want to care about you. I don’t want to melt away every time you touch me.”
He shrugged with a grin. “I kind of like that part.”
“Of course you do,” she railed. “Men!” Lacy kicked her saddlebags.
“All right, calm down.”
“If I could do that,” she countered, “I wouldn’t be out here trying to sneak off.”
This caused Dave to laugh. “Lacy, let’s go in the house and talk this out. It’s freezing out here.” He crossed to where she stood. “Go on. I’ll unsaddle your horse.”
“No. I have to go home.”
“You can go home after we talk.” Dave uncinched the saddle and pulled it from the gelding’s back. Lacy stood watching him but said nothing more. When he’d accomplished the task, he took her by the arm. “Come on.”
She didn’t resist as Dave led the way to the house. Once inside, she didn’t bother to take her coat off or even move from the chair where he deposited her. Apparently she was resigned to letting him have his way, and for this, Dave was grateful.
He stoked the fire in the stove, then came to sit down beside her. “Now tell me what’s not fair and why you were crying as if you’d lost your last friend.”
Lacy picked at the buttons of her coat, refusing to look up. “I don’t want to love you.”
“So you admit that you do,” Dave replied, rather pleased with himself.
Her head snapped up at this. “I didn’t say that.”
“Then what are you saying?”
She put her hands to her face and rubbed her temples. She looked like someone trying very hard to figure out a great mystery. “I don’t know what I’m saying or thinking. That’s the problem. I just know that you weren’t in my plans.”
“And just what plans did you have?”
Lowering her hands, she looked him in the eye. “I want to find my father’s killer.”
“As do I. We both want the same thing, as far as I can see.”
“But
I
want to find him.”
“What does it matter who finds him, as long as he’s found?” Dave asked. “Honestly, Lacy, why can’t you be content to know that I care about the matter as much as you do and trust me to see the job done?”
“Because I need to help.” She got up and walked to the stove. Holding her hands out to the warmth, she continued. “All of my life, I’ve made a mess of things. I’ve failed people—people who suffered because of my inability to do what was required of me.” She turned and looked at him with an expression that nearly sent Dave into her arms. “I don’t want to fail anyone else.”
“You haven’t failed nearly as much as you think. We all make mistakes, and we all have tasks too big to handle. That doesn’t make you a failure. You did your best, didn’t you?”
“But it wasn’t enough.”
“Lacy, doing your best is all that’s required. God expects no more. Ma always said that with human beings, most everything is impossible at one time or another. But with God, all things are possible.”
“I want to believe that.”
Dave got up, but Lacy held her hands out. “Don’t. Please don’t touch me. Something happens to me when you touch me.”
He grinned. “I know. Something happens to me when I touch you. It’s the passion that’s between us that makes me certain we’re meant to marry—to be together always.” He came to a stop at the point where her fingers touched his chest. “Lacy, I love you. I love your fire and passion.”
“I can’t let passion rule my life,” she said, her voice softening to a bare whisper.
“Passion is the stuff of life,” he replied, never taking his gaze from hers.
“I’ll only fail you,” she said, shaking her head slowly as she let her arms relax back at her sides.
Dave reached out and touched her face. “We’ll fail at something, no matter whether we’re together or alone. We’ll even fail each other, but I’m figuring our successes will outnumber those times. Our love will see us through, and together, we’ll find a dream to call our own.”
“But I just know I won’t be any good at this,” she said, looking hopelessly at him.
Dave chuckled and let his hand trail behind her neck to pull her closer. “Would you care to place a bet on that? I think you’ll be very good at being my wife.”
“Gambling is a sin,” she whispered, stepping into his arms. She put her arms around him and sighed.
“So is lying.”
She looked at him with a puzzled expression. “Lying? What have I lied about?”
“You’re trying to lie to yourself. You’re trying to convince your heart that you don’t want this—that you don’t want me.”
Her cheeks reddened, and Dave knew he’d very nearly read her mind. “Ah, Lacy,” he sighed against her ear. “I promise you, you won’t regret marrying me.”
“She’s the most beautiful baby in the world,” Lacy declared, taking Julianne in her arms. “And so very tiny.”
Gwen beamed with pride. “I think her quite perfect, myself.”
“As do I,” Beth said, “but I’ll probably think my own even better.” They all laughed at this.
Lacy sat down on the bed beside Gwen and marveled at the infant. “She looks like you, Gwen.”
“I can also see something of her father,” Gwen said. “Especially around the eyes.”
Beth nodded. “I agree.”
Lacy gently touched the baby’s cheek and laughed when Julianne turned her face as if to feed. “Is she hungry?”
“I doubt it, but anytime there’s the hope of sucking,” Gwen replied, “Julianne seems more than happy to comply.”
“I wish I could have been here for you. Was it awful . . . having her, I mean?”
“It was quite painful, but as Patience told me, the memory of that is fading in the wake of the child given me.” Gwen smiled. “I would definitely do it again—just not too soon.”
Lacy couldn’t begin to imagine what it was like to be a mother. She thought of Dave and his proposal, and all that it would mean. Would she be like Beth and get pregnant right away? What if she couldn’t have children?
“So are you ready to talk to us?” Gwen asked.
Lacy looked up. “What do you mean?”
Beth placed a blue-and-white quilt over the rocking chair and took a seat. “Are you ready to tell us why you ran away?”
“And what happened while you were gone?”
Lacy frowned. “Why do you suppose something had to happen while I was gone?”
“Because there is something in your expression that makes us believe it did,” Gwen replied before Beth could. “You were out there an awful long time with Dave.”
“Some would say more than long enough to ruin your reputation,” Beth added with a grin.
Lacy shook her head. “We couldn’t help it that a blizzard came up. People can just think bad of me—they do anyway. They judge me on what I wear or do all of the time. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Gwen’s expression softened. “No one thinks you did. But something obviously happened. You and Dave look at each other differently.”
“It’s true,” Beth said. “So you might as well tell us everything.”
Lacy focused on Julianne, knowing it would be easier to confess to her niece than to her sisters. “Dave asked me to marry him.”
Beth laughed and clapped her hands. “I knew it!”
“It does explain an awful lot,” Gwen said. “It’s about time he proposed.”
Lacy looked up at the joyous faces. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it was clear that he was completely gone over you. Beth and I talked about it just the other day with Patience. She felt the same way.”
Lacy handed Julianne back to Gwen and got up. “I don’t know why any of you would even think such things. I don’t mean to sound shocking, but as far as I can figure out, the attraction we hold for each other is purely physical.”
Beth looked at Gwen and back to Lacy. “That’s a very good place to start, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Lacy said, turning to pace in her routine fashion. “Just because I like the way he looks and how he makes me feel when he kisses me doesn’t mean we ought to marry.” She stopped and looked hard at her sisters. “Does it?”
“Well, if you had no physical attraction, then I would be worried about that. So many women find it necessary to settle for a man or marriage that they do not want,” Gwen replied.
“Sure, imagine if you were forced to marry, say, Rafe.” Beth giggled. “You wouldn’t even have a physical attraction.”
“I’d shoot myself first,” Lacy told them. “Or maybe I’d just shoot
him
.”
Gwen laughed. “You don’t mean that.”
“Maybe not, but I’d never agree to marry him.”
“Did you agree to marry Dave?” Beth asked.
Lacy drew a deep breath and nodded. “I did. I don’t know why I did, and frankly the entire matter is causing me a great deal of distress.”
“But why?” Gwen questioned. “It’s so evident that you two belong together.”
Lacy considered this for a moment and came back to the bed to sit. “Why do you say that? Tell me, please—because I’m desperate to know and understand.”
Gwen looked at Beth as if for help. “Well, I suppose there’s the way you listen to each other and talk things out.”
“You mean argue and bicker?” Lacy crossed her arms. “That hardly seems like a beneficial thing.”
“But you don’t just fight over things. You respect each other enough to consider what’s being said. I’ve seen it happen over and over. You might not like what Dave has to say, but you consider it.”
“Yes, and then usually do exactly as I please,” Lacy admitted.
“You are very headstrong,” Beth agreed. “But I think you two find comfort even in your disputes. You see eye-to-eye on more than you might think.”
Lacy considered Beth’s words. “It just seems there ought to be something that is . . . well, more in common.”
“You both love Montana and adventure,” Gwen offered.
“You’re both very practical, and when a job has to be done, no matter how messy or troublesome, you just dig in and do it,” Beth said.
“And you both have great inner strength and faith in God,” Gwen said as if going down a mental list. “Oh, and you are both incredible with horses.”
Beth nodded. “Yes, and you have deep compassion on those who are treated unjustly.”
Gwen thought for a moment. “You neither one care for strong drink or gambling.”
“But you both like elk steak and berry cobbler.” Beth looked at Gwen. “I swear Dave Shepard could eat his weight in berry cobbler.”
Lacy couldn’t help but laugh at this. “I could have those things in common with just about anyone out here.”
“But can you add that to the physical attraction?” Gwen asked in a most serious tone. “Is there anyone else who makes your legs feel like they’re no stronger than egg noodles?”
“Or leaves you breathless when they do nothing more than throw you a certain look from across the room?” Beth added.
Lacy couldn’t deny the truth of either comment. No one but Dave made her feel that way. She drew a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. Maybe there was enough to merit marriage between them.
“But I don’t know if I love him.”
Her sisters once again exchanged a glance and Gwen asked, “Can you imagine living life without him?”
“And still be happy?” Beth supplied.
Gwen nodded and continued. “If he decided to break off the engagement and moved away tomorrow, could you easily let him go?”
“Or would you feel as though you’d lost a part of yourself—of your heart?” Beth questioned softly.
Lacy was terrified to even know the answers to those questions. She wasn’t yet ready to know the truth of it. “I can’t . . . I can’t even begin to ask myself those things.”
Beth smiled. “When you can and you’re willing to acknowledge the truth of the answers, then you’ll know for sure if you love him.”
The stage finally made it through the snow the following day. There were enough passengers to keep Gallatin House filled to overflowing, so Rafe wasn’t all that surprised when one man sought the saloon out for refuge.
“Do you have a room for an old friend?” the stranger asked.
Rafe studied the man for a moment. There was something vaguely familiar about his stance. His reddish brown beard and mustache seemed hastily grown and perhaps foreign to the man, but his brown eyes held a hard glint that Rafe recognized. This was the look of a man hardened by life.
“Don’t tell me you don’t recognize me, Rafe. Why, my feelings will be hurt all to pieces if you do that.”
It was the voice . . . that gentle drawl . . . that brought back the memory. “Jefferson?”
“Of course it’s me!” The man stepped forward, dropped his saddlebags, and gave Rafe a big bear hug. “How in the world are you?”
“Well, I’ll be,” Rafe said, shaking his head. “Jefferson Mulholland.”
They’d known each other in St. Louis, and Rafe had even written a letter to Jefferson when he was searching for new girls. Rafe stepped back from the man’s embrace and shook his head. “What brings you to this part of the country?”
“You do,” Jefferson replied.
“Me? But why?”
Jefferson laughed and headed to the bar. “Serve me up a drink, and I’ll explain.”
Rafe followed behind and tried to imagine what his old friend might want. Suspicion was Rafe’s approach to life, and just because he and Mulholland had looked after each other’s interests at one time didn’t mean the man wasn’t trouble now.
“Whiskey or beer?” Rafe asked.
“A beer is fine. We can save the rest for celebrating later. That is, if you decide you want to consider my proposition.”
So he had come with an agenda. Rafe grabbed a glass and filled it. What could his old friend want? He looked up with a lopsided smile and put the beer on the bar. “And what proposition would that be?”
Mulholland drank down half the glass before answering. “I’ve been studying this area. It hasn’t been all that easy to get information, but as it worked out, I made the acquaintance of a man who once worked some ranches in these parts.”
“If you’ve been studying on it, then you probably know the decision the railroad made to go in to the north instead of coming through here.”
Jefferson smiled in a smug, confident way that left Rafe uneasy. “That’s what they say, but I have a feeling we can convince them to quickly attach a spur line to this area.”
“But there would have to be something mighty valuable to the railroad to do such a thing,” Rafe countered. “I’m afraid this area doesn’t have much in that way to offer.”
“Not yet, but maybe in time.”
Rafe watched Jefferson as he downed the rest of the beer in one drink. The man wiped the foam from his mustache and grinned. “I have a foolproof scheme to see this little community double in size overnight.”
Shaking his head, Rafe refilled his friend’s glass as Jefferson pulled a bag from his pocket. He plopped the drawstring pouch onto the bar with a thud.
“What’s that?”
“The answer to our problems.”
“I didn’t say I had any problems,” Rafe replied in a skeptical tone. He eyed Mulholland warily.
Jefferson Mulholland laughed. “While I was in Bozeman, I heard about robberies, highwaymen, and murders from this area. It seemed the perfect place to create a gambling hall. Men of such reputations need a place to spend their ill-gotten gains.”
“You want to set up a rival saloon?”
“Not at all, my friend. I want to come in as a partner and expand this town to become a place of pleasure and diverse entertainment. The property will be cheap, because people are already looking to sell and move, are they not?”
“Some are. Some are less inclined to go.”
“And once we convince the quiet and conservative folks of the neighborhood that the area is about to take a turn for the, shall we say, more wild side of life, they will be eager to leave.”
“But how do you propose doing this?” Rafe asked. He leaned against the bar and looked hard at Mulholland.
“With this.” Jefferson picked up the pouch and opened it. He spread his handkerchief on the bar and spilled a tiny portion of gold dust from the bag.
“Gold? But there isn’t any gold here.”
“None that has been found so far,” Jefferson said, smiling. “I propose we help things along.”
Rafe narrowed his eyes. “In what way?”
“How much land can we get our hands on—I mean right away? Can we get a good portion of land along the river?”
“I have some, but as for the rest, I don’t know. Hank Bishop owns a good stretch to the north, and then there are other families who own portions to the south. I know of a couple of folks ready to sell out and move north because of the railroad, and one family moved to Bozeman when their business burned down.”
“Good. I think it’s time we act on the circumstances at hand. Between the two of us, we can surely come up with enough money to get things started.”
“But I still don’t understand. Get what started?”
Jefferson smiled. “A gold rush.” He patted the bag.
“But I already told you, there hasn’t been any gold found in this area.”
“There will be. I have another bag just like this, and a few of fool’s gold. It would be simple enough to hire some fellows to pose as panners who have found a fortune in gold on the Gal-latin. I’ll simply have them use my gold in order to get things started, then we even plant a little here and there.”
“You’d give your gold away?”
“Not exactly.” Mulholland carefully wadded up the handkerchief and stuffed it and the gold back in the pouch. “My investment will be minimal compared to what we’ll demand of those who come to get rich. If we own the land, we can issue leases and work out arrangements with others to share a percentage of what they pan out of the river. Of course, you and I know that there really won’t be anything to be had, except by those lucky few who are on our payroll.”
Rafe grinned. “I’m starting to like this idea. We can sell them supplies and liquor at well over our cost.”
“Exactly. Folks have to have a place to live, as well. I can get an order of tents shipped in, and we can charge rent. By the time folks get discouraged and move on, we will have made a small fortune.”
Doubt niggled at the back of Rafe’s mind. “But why come here and bring me in on it?”
Jefferson sobered. “You once helped me when I was down on my luck. I owe you a debt, and I’m not the kind to let it go unpaid.”
To Rafe’s way of thinking, that debt had been settled long ago. He and Jefferson had helped each other out of more than one mess, but if the man felt duty bound, who was Rafe to suggest otherwise?
Just then Cubby came in from the back room. “When’s the next shipment of whiskey due in, Pa?”
Jefferson laughed. “This can’t be little Cubby.”
Rafe nodded. “In the flesh. The boy’s sixteen now.”
“A good age to be useful,” Mulholland said with a smile. “Do you remember me, son?”
Cubby shook his head. “Should I?”
“No, of course not. You weren’t much more than two or three the last time I saw you. I’m an old friend of your father’s and soon to be his business partner.”