Lucas
Authors: Kelli Ann Morgan
“I think we’re beyond the formalities,
don’t you? My name is Lucas.”
Lucy bit her lip.
He groaned.
“I understand that you
agreed to sing for my grandfather’s wake, and I feel bad that I didn’t even
know that you could sing, but I have to know something.”
“Mr. Dear—” She put her
hand up in front of her and closed her eyes. “Lucas, I…” she shook her head,
her eyes unable to meet his.
He placed his crooked
finger beneath her chin and lifted her face so he could see her clearly.
What are you doing,
Deardon?
Alarm bells sounded in
his head and he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. His heart
pounded in his ears, his jaw flexed, and everything inside of him told him he
should step back, but he could not make himself pull his hand away from her.
“Tell me you don’t want
to get married.” The intoxicating scent of citrus infused in her hair filled
his nostrils as a light breeze worked through the house, blowing her tresses in
wisps in front of him. “Tell me you dream of running away and singing on a big,
fancy stage.” He captured her hand and pinned it to his chest. “Tell me you
don’t think about me. Tell me you don’t want me,” he pleaded, “and I will leave
for Oregon tomorrow and you will never see me again.”
Painstaking silence.
“I can’t tell you any
of those things,” she finally whispered.
Damn.
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LUCAS
An Inspire Book published by arrangement with
the author
First Inspire Books eBook edition April 2015
Copyright © 2015 by Kelli Ann Morgan
Cover Design by Kelli Ann Morgan at Inspire
Creative Services
www.inspirecreativeservices.com
Kindle Edition
ISBN-13: 978-1-939049-14-8
ISBN-10:
1-939049-14-8
Kelli
Ann Morgan
Deardon Mini-Series
Book One
Redbourne Series Book
One
Cole’s Story
Redbourne Series Book Two
Rafe’s Story
Redbourne Series Book Three
Ethan’s Story
Redbourne Series Book Four
Levi’s Story
Available from Inspire
Books
To my wonderful friends and fellow writers who
plan and host our Crazy Ivans and special writing retreats where I am
continually inspired and replenished.
To my amazing beta readers, Rocky Palmer, Jen
Morgan, and Jen Sisneros! I can’t express enough my gratitude for your
willingness to be extra sets of eyes and for the additional insights you
provided. THANK YOU!
And to Grant, the love of my life, and very
talented alpha reader—your brutal honesty, constructive criticism, and push for
me to write the best stories possible are invaluable. I love you and am so
grateful for your continued support and encouragement. You’re AMAZING!
To my sisters, Kathy
and Cheri,
for being two of my
biggest fans.
The old adage applies—
sisters by chance,
friends by choice.
Oregon, October 1861
“How in the hell did
you do that?”
Lucas Deardon’s
shoulder sat at an odd angle as he met his brother’s concern with an unabashed
grin. He’d never outright lied to Jonah before and he wasn’t about to start
now.
“Breaking the bronc
over at the Wilson place.”
Jonah froze, then turned
away from him, his hands balled into fists. “And to think I was worried you’d
been trying to impress the hands with all of those fancy rodeo circus tricks of
yours.” He finished wrapping the rope he held around his arm and draped it over
one of the fence posts. “I thought we’d agreed. No wild horses.” His voice was
quiet, not at all what Lucas had expected. He picked up the tool crate and
headed toward the barn.
A thread of guilt wove
its way through Lucas’s gut. But there was something about working with the
wild horses that made Lucas feel close to his brother, Henry. Things around the
ranch had not been the same since the accident and they’d all struggled to find
their place and fill the hole his eldest brother had left behind.
“I’m not Henry, Jonah.”
Henry had had talent in
spades, especially when it came to breaking horses, and Lucas had always looked
up to him. But he was his own man and it was time Jonah realized that.
Jonah whipped around,
jostling the tools in the crate.
“No, you’re not Henry.”
His eyebrows scrunched together, his eyes squinted. “Henry’s dead!” he yelled. Then,
as quickly as he’d raised his voice, he softened and turned back for the barn.
Lucas caught up to him.
“I would have thought
you’d have learned from his mistake. You don’t have anything to prove.” When
Jonah reached the barn door, he set the crate down and slid it open.
“What happened to Henry
was an accident. Accidents happen, but living in fear of what
could
happen
isn’t living, big brother.”
Jonah retrieved the
tools and returned them to the worktable inside the barn. He placed his hands,
shoulder width apart, on the flat surface and dropped his head.
“And, I have everything
to prove.”
“To who?” Jonah turned
to look at him. “Not to Dad, and certainly not to me.” He pushed past Lucas,
waiting for him to follow, then slid the barn door closed behind him. Without
missing a step, he ventured toward the stables.
Lucas followed, still holding
his injured arm. “To all of you. And to myself. I’m not a kid anymore, Jonah. I
see what you do around here to keep us afloat and I want to help. I work hard
around here, but I could be doing so much more.”
“Here,” Jonah pulled
one of the horseshoes from a nail in the wall and held it out, “take this.”
Lucas reached out to
take it.
“With your other hand.”
“But
—”
“Open your hand, curl
your fingers around the metal, and just hold it down at your side.”
He’s got to be joking.
Lucas opened his
fingers with some effort. What had been a dull ache a few moments ago was growing
more painful by the moment and the swelling of his shoulder strained against
the seams of his shirt sleeve.
Jonah placed the toe of
the horseshoe in Lucas’s hand.
“Are you trying to kill
me?” Lucas asked with disbelief.
Jonah added another
horseshoe. And another, until Lucas’s arm felt like it might come apart.
POP!
Lucas rotated his arm
in awe. “How did you know to do that?”
“Remember right after
Mama left...?” His older brother looked up at him, then shook his head. “Never
mind, kid. You were only, what, seven years old? Let’s just say it’s an old
family trick.”
Lucas didn’t want to
think about the woman who’d abandoned their family. He remembered her beautiful
voice and ability to sing, but those talents had been more important to her
than her own children. It had taken a long time for him to understand that
there was nothing he could have done to make her stay. He’d learned to be happy
without her.
“I remember she left.
That’s enough,” Lucas told him.
“How’d he take it?”
Noah, the brother just older than Lucas, popped his head into the stable as if
not keen on exposing his entire body to Jonah’s anticipated ire.
“You knew?” Jonah asked
accusingly.
“Look at this.” Lucas flapped
his arm up and down like it was a chicken wing.
Ouch.
He stopped.
Noah’s eyes widened.
“That’s pretty good, doc,” he teased as he stood up straight and walked fully
into the barn, inspecting Lucas’s arm. “Hey,” he said as he turned back to
Jonah, “Dad wants to see us in the house. All of us.” He looked at Lucas. “Said
it was important.”
Lucas returned the
horseshoes gingerly to the rack on the wall. His shoulder hurt, but at least
the mounting pressure had been relieved when it popped back into place. He
flexed his hand, stretching his fingers, as he slipped out the door ahead of
Jonah and caught up to Noah, who nudged him playfully.
“See. No harm done,” he
whispered.
“Easy for you to say.”
Lucas rubbed the offending spot on his shoulder and flexed his hand again. “It
might be a while before I can hold the reins tight enough to stay on that
bronc. He sure is a beaut, but it’ll take a bit more work before he’s ready to
ride.”
Gabe Deardon wore
scrunched brows as he sat behind the oversized desk in his den. He looked up at
each of his sons as they entered the room. An odd, heavy cloud, almost thick
enough to touch, loomed over them as they sat down. Lucas eased into the tall
leatherback, careful to avoid contact with his tender shoulder.
When Jonah joined them,
he closed the door and moved to sit on the arm of Lucas’s chair.
“I’m just going to cut
right to it,” their father said, standing up from his seat. “Now that the
telegraph has been completed and extends across the nation, the Pony Express
will no longer be in service. They’ll be closing their doors next week, I’m
told.”
A rock dropped inside
Lucas’s belly at the news. “What about our contract?”
“We knew it was only
going to be a matter of time, son. However, they will pay us the remainder of
what is due for this last run, but no more.” His father moved around to the
front of his desk and sat down, his ankles and arms crossed in front of him. “So,
we have some hard decisions to make.”
This was the first time
Lucas had been invited to a meeting that concerned anything to do with the
ranch and was grateful his father saw him as man enough to be a part of the
decision making going forward.
“We’ve stocked enough
food and supplies to make it through this winter, but come spring, if we don’t
find another buyer, we’ll be finished.” Jonah moved into the chair next to
Lucas.
“There may be another
way to save the ranch.” Their father met each one of them in the eyes. “But it
will require a new mindset for all of us.”
“What is it?” Noah
asked, now sitting closer to the edge of his chair.
“Cattle.”
Lucas glanced at his
brothers who looked as dumbfounded as he felt.
“Cattle,” Noah
repeated.
“Cattle?” Jonah asked.
Gabe nodded. “Do you
remember the Markhams?”
“The cattle rancher
from Eureka?” Lucas didn’t remember the rancher so much as his daughter, Clara.
He smiled, despite himself.
Their father nodded.
“He’s decided to give up ranching all together and is moving his family back
East.”
“What does that have to
do with us?” Jonah asked. “We’re not planning a move to Eureka?”
“Certainly not. Markham
approached me earlier this week and has offered to sell me his business and
livestock for a third of the going price. Except for a few prized bulls. He
already has someone lined up to buy his place, but they didn’t want the herd,
they want to farm the land.”
“Why would he sell them
to us? Wouldn’t he be able to get full price at auction?” Lucas asked.
“For reasons that are
his own, he wants to be in Augusta, Maine, by Christmas. And I’m not going to
look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“But we don’t know
anything about cattle ranching.” Noah shoved his hands through his hair, then
sat back against the chair.
Gabe leaned forward
with a smile. “That’s why he’s offered to hire one of you to go and work the
cattle with his foreman for the next few weeks to learn everything you can
about the work. He’ll pay a fair wage and offered to throw in one of his prized
bulls as incentive.”
As much as his father tried
to mask his concern, Lucas could see the worry in his eyes. He was hiding
something.
“What’s the problem?”
Jonah looked up at Gabe and asked what Lucas had been thinking. “You wouldn’t
be so concerned if it was going to be that easy?”
Their father laughed,
something that Lucas hadn’t heard very often—especially as of late.
“You know me all too
well, son. We are in a bit of a predicament.” He scratched the stubble on his
neck with the back of his hand, then stood up to pace the room. “Money. I’m
afraid we don’t have enough on hand to even cover half of his asking price. Now
that Lucas is injured,” he nodded at his youngest son, “we’ve run out of
options.”
Lucas shot a glance at
his brother, eyes wide.
“Wait,” Jonah said, now
rising to his feet, “you knew that Lucas was breaking horses for the Wilsons
and you didn’t tell me?”
Gabe’s brows knitted
together as his eyes flitted between Jonah and Lucas. “What are you talking
about? I was referring to him reeling in the crowds at the Moonlight event next
week with his fancy trick riding. I was sure he’d be able to sit on that bull
longer than any of the others crazy enough to try.”
Damn.
Lucas hadn’t wanted
Jonah to find out this way.
Jonah looked down at
his feet, his hands clenched into fists. He took a deep breath.
“Jonah.” Lucas stood to
talk to his brother, to plead with him to understand, but when their eyes
locked, it wasn’t anger he saw, but sadness.
“I can’t listen to
this.” He threw his hands up into the air, shaking his head. “You’re going to
get yourself killed and then where will we be?”
“Now, don’t be such a
woman,” their father said mockingly.
Lucas held his breath.
Jonah raised a brow and
turned on the man. “You are a selfish coward. I’m sorry that Henry’s death was such
an inconvenience to you. And now, you’re willing to sacrifice another son?
Maybe it’s time
you
found another way.”
“That’s not fair—”
“No! You treating us
like nothing more than your hired hands after mama left is what’s not fair. You
keeping us from our grandparents out of some sense of misguided pride is what’s
not fair. You want to talk to me about fair?” Jonah marched to the door. “How
is it fair that four young boys lost both of their parents on the same day?
Mama, when she walked out on us and you when you gave up hope.”
Lucas dared a glance at
their father who stood with his back straight, his jaw clenched, and his face
redder than a beet. He looked as if he could spit nails. It was the first time
he could ever remember his father being speechless.
“I will not make the
same mistake you did when you left your family behind,” Jonah said quietly, “but
I’ll be damned if I keep my mouth shut any longer. You want to try cattle
ranching, fine. If that is what we have to do to build a legacy for our
families, we’ll do it. But we’ll find another way. I owe that to Emma and to
our child.” He turned away and walked from the room.
“Jonah,” Lucas called
after him.
Silence.
The tension in the room
grew thick and the weight of it came to rest on Lucas’s shoulders. Without a
good arm to use breaking in wild horses or entertaining spectators atop a bull,
he would be worthless in helping his family keep their home—whether they traded
in horses or cattle.