Mary Connealy (100 page)

“No, because you hired someone incompetent to be your foreman. What’d you ever sign Sid on for?” Sid was still living in the foreman’s cabin, too. Wade and Chester both had been too busy to evict him. But that was no longer true. Wade could see to that right away.

“He looked good to me.” Pa picked up his fork and scooped up a savory helping of stew. He clearly didn’t want to take any responsibility for the mess Wade had found, so having his mouth stuffed full of food seemed like a good way to stop talking. “I was hurting. If my son had been here, if you hadn’t gone off in a pout—”

“Do I eat my meal here, Pa, or should I go out to the bunk-house? It’s not enough I’m working eighteen-hour days—I’ve got to come in and get whined at by all of you? I swear, sometimes I feel like I’ve got four nagging wives.”

Pa slammed his fist on the table.

“You’re comparing
me
to a
wife?”
Tom roared.

Gertie let her head fall back so she could stare at the ceiling.

Abby laughed.

Wade wished he could get rid of Tom something fierce. But he loved having Abby here at his table. She wasn’t exactly his dream woman, true. Not one bit like Cassie Dawson to be sure. But her strength drew him as well as her reckless disregard for what anyone thought of her. He needed to learn that. She could teach him. He noted that she was sitting sideways to the table, faced toward him, with her legs crossed and in her bare feet. Beautifully arched feet. He could see her ankles again, too. She had one elbow on the table, and she plucked a chunk of meat out of her stew with her hands, sucked the gravy off it, and then ate it.

He could maybe teach her a few things, too.

“Tomorrow’s Sunday. Red will be in town for church services. Anyone want to go with me?” Wade looked at Tom. He’d never heard a word about believing from Tom Linscott, and he’d never seen him in church. The man was a heathen and that was a fact.

“Waste of time, church.” Pa hit the table again. Wade wondered how the furniture stood up under the assault.

“I’ll take that to mean you’re not going.” Wade expected it. In fact, he was looking forward to a day that included neither backbreaking work nor his pa’s endless complaining. But as much as he wanted a day of peace, it always hurt to think how lost his father was.

“I’d think a man who’s had a brush with death like you oughta figure out where he wants to spend eternity. If you ever decide to ride along, you’re welcome. I’d even let you drive us.”

Pa turned back to his plate with a scowl, eating with the grace of a wild dog.

“Have fun, Sawyer.” Tom’s refusal hurt, too. “I want another day or two here with Abby before I head home.” As annoying as the other man’s company was, Wade had a burden on his heart for any unbeliever.

“I’ll go.” Abby reached for the biscuit plate and helped herself.

Tom frowned.

Pa muttered.

Wade smiled. “Good. Gertie, you in?”

Pa stiffened visibly. Wade could see he was worried Gertie would leave.

Gertie shook her head. “Your pa shouldn’t be here alone.”

Wade knew Gertie refused the offer of church to keep peace in the household. But he wasn’t so sure of where her soul stood with God. Not that it was his place to judge, but Gertie spoke of God and there was a Bible on a shelf in her room. But he’d never seen her read it, and she’d steadfastly refused to attend church.

Now Wade had the whole ride to town and back alone with Abby. His mood lifted.

“I guess I’ll go, too.” Tom as good as tossed a bucket of brackish pond water on Wade’s mood. “If Abby goes, I’ll go.”

Wade’s sogged-up mood fell straight back down with a splat. Tom wanted to attend church. Wade should be glad of that.

One look at Tom’s smirk told Wade that big brother threw in to keep an eye on his sister, not out of any desire to worship God. Well, fine. Maybe Red would say something that would drill its way into Tom’s hard head.

Wade quickly washed up and headed for bed, hoping he could get enough sleep to keep going through another day.

Thank You, Lord, for a day of rest.

W
ade came into the kitchen the next day in his best black pants, wearing a black leather vest and his newest white shirt. He’d found the clothes in his old room or he’d’ve had nothing after his winter in the mountains.

He should count it a blessing his father hadn’t dragged his clothes out onto the ground and burned them to ashes.

After he’d worked four hours on the morning chores, taken a bath in the spring, dried off, and dressed, he’d come in to shave and comb his hair at the kitchen sink.

“I’ve got water boiling and your razor laid out, Wade.” Gertie was at the stove scooping eggs and bacon onto a plate. The house smelled so good, Wade decided to eat first and then shave. No sign of Pa or Tom. It was too much to wish they were gone for good, though.

Abby added two biscuits to Wade’s plate and set a ball of butter and a dish of preserves on the table beside him.

“Gertie tells me there is a proper way to dress for church.” Abby frowned but she didn’t go for her knife, so Wade took that to mean she’d cooperate. “I can see that you’ve put on special clothes, so I must, too, then.”

A cup of coffee was added to Wade’s meal by Gertie; then the two women hurried off, with Gertie talking, possibly giving Abby pointers on church behavior. No one had ever threatened to stab anyone at church before. It might be a day to remember.

Gertie and Abby disappeared into the back of the house where they slept.

The food went down fast and Wade shaved quickly, not wanting anything like a weapon in his hands lest Tom Linscott made an appearance. Could the man be sleeping this late?

Up in his room, Wade found his best Stetson, the one with the shiny silver hatband and a small feather on the side of the band. The feather made him think of Glowing Sun—Abby—as she’d been in her doeskin dress and moccasins. She was dressing in gingham and calico now, but she wore her civilization very lightly. Wade would like to see her in that beaded dress she’d had on the day he’d found her after the massacre. He’d fallen in love with her in that dress.

There was nothing left of this day, until evening chores, except to attend church and do his best to find a few minutes alone with Abby. He held out little hope he could accomplish the latter.

Abby came out of her room seconds later, her hair untied from its braid, curling about her shoulders with the shine of sunlight. She was wearing a dress Wade had never seen before. The fit wasn’t perfect, but the sky blue gingham sprigged with yellow flowers made her sun-bronzed skin and white-blond hair glow like—Wade couldn’t see it any other way—like a glowing sun.

Wade pulled his eyes away from Abby when Tom entered the room. He’d only brought one set of clothes, and he didn’t seem inclined to go home anytime soon and clean up. “Is it time for church yet?” He sounded like a choir boy, eager, good, sincere.

Wade wasn’t fooled. “Don’t you have a ranch to run?”

Tom just smirked. “Good thing I got done with roundup…about a month ago.”

Wade had no response to that fit for a Sunday morning—or any day.

They headed for the corral. The three of them, always together.

As they approached the nearest horse pen, Abby whistled to the pinto mare grazing in the far corner of the corral. The half-wild pony perked her head up, whickered, and trotted toward Abby.

She’d done the same thing the morning they’d ridden to town to inspect the herd Red brought in. Wade had to keep his mouth clamped shut. He’d ridden that pinto. It was small, but it was mean and fast. Blue blazes as a cow pony, if you could stick on her back long enough to calm her down.

Catching the pinto usually involved a fast-moving horse and a cowboy with a lasso. Now Abby had the little stinker eating out of her hand. And she hadn’t lost a finger yet.

Tom’s shining black stallion lifted his head, too, in a neighboring corral. Wade had taken to moving his best mares into the corral with the stallion. Maybe he’d get some good foals out of the beast.

He’d pointed out what he was doing to Tom, hoping the man would throw a fit and go home. Tom didn’t seem to care one whit.

The beautiful killer whickered at Abby as if he was being slighted and moved in his pen to the closest point to her.

The mare came to her. Abby slipped on the bridle she’d rigged to have no bit. Leading the pinto out of the corral, she mounted up bareback with one supple leap while Wade was still leading his horse to the barn for a saddle.

Abby’s skirts flew about, her ankles clearly visible. She batted at the fabric impatiently. “Stupid gingham dress.”

Tom’s stallion was busy trying to commit murder, though his heart wasn’t really in it or Tom never would have gotten leather on the brute. The stallion reared toward the sky then landed stiff-legged and crow-hopped sideways. Tom hung on expertly. “Abby, you need to put a saddle on that horse.”

When Wade and Abby had ridden to town to check the cattle Red had brought in, Wade had taken this same position.

Wade had lost.

Now it gave him pleasure to stand back and watch Tom lose.

Abby made an incredibly rude noise for such a pretty woman and started for town without a backward glance.

Wade, thinking of the dry-gulchers gunning for her, raced through his preparations and was on the trail while Tom was still letting the black work its kinks out by jumping and rearing.

Wade caught up to Abby quickly, and soon Tom came along. Wade had hoped to visit with Abby on their rides to and from church. Maybe risk asking her if she might one day have feelings for him, but with Tom along that was impossible. They set a swift pace and made it to town in record time.

The church in Divide was so new it still smelled of wood shavings, but it was painted bright white, as clean as a new penny. Wade had noticed it in passing when they’d come in for the cattle, but now he could really appreciate the tight little building the town had erected.

They tied their horses to the hitching post alongside a dozen other horses and scattered buggies and buckboards. Inside were tidy rows of oak pews. The church was packed, and Wade, Tom, and Abby stood, leaning against the back wall with several other worshippers.

Church was its usual informal affair. The service was different when the circuit rider was in town. Parson Bergstrom ran a very proper, orderly service, and Wade enjoyed that well enough. But he much preferred it when Red was in charge. Red was far more casual. He had told Wade that he was working on getting himself named a real legal minister so he could perform weddings. Wade doubted Red’s style would change much, though, if he got papers calling him a real live parson.

Today he talked on one of Wade’s favorite verses. It was from the first chapter of John.

“‘In him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.’ ”

It reminded Wade so much of the dark world he’d lived in before he found his faith. Wade found light once he understood about Jesus dying for him. But Pa still lived in that dark place. And just as the verse said, he couldn’t comprehend the Light. It grieved Wade to think how lost Pa was, but Wade also battled an angry, sinful part of himself. He bitterly resented the abuse he’d taken from his father’s hands. It was a battle to pray for his father. A cruel voice inside of Wade said Pa deserved a terrible afterlife for the way he’d lived this one. Most of Wade’s petitions for God to open his father’s heart ended with Wade begging God’s forgiveness for himself, not his pa.

When the service was over, Wade, Abby, and Tom stayed to visit. Abby took a turn holding Michael, but all the women wanted to hold the baby. A fair number of the men wanted turns, too.

Wade loved Cassie and Red’s children, although he’d been gone for most of little Michael’s life. He knew Susannah well from all his time spent at the Dawson place, so she giggled and demanded a hug as if he was a beloved uncle.

Wade hoped Tom had really listened to what Red had to say. The ruffian had seemed to be listening attentively to Red’s talk and asked some good questions. Even feeling like Tom was a leech who was determined never to let Wade and Abby be alone, Wade prayed silently for Tom to hear this truth.

Standing outside the church, Wade saw a rider galloping into town on a horse wearing Tom’s brand. The rider pulled his racing mount to a halt when he spotted Tom. “I thought I’d have to ride all the way to the Sawyer place. We’ve got trouble out at the Double L. Big Black ran afoul of a grizzly.”

Wade recognized the name of the prizewinning Angus bull Tom had brought out from Kansas City at great expense. It was the first pure black breed anyone in these parts had ever seen.

Angus cattle had only just been imported into America. They were reputed to be as hardy as a longhorn but faster growing with tender meat where a longhorn tended toward gristle. Wade was skeptical. He figured some snake oil salesman had gotten the best of Tom. But Tom had a good head for ranching, and he loved to talk cattle more than any man Wade had ever known, so he might have heard of the breed somewhere, even before he came West. Wade had seen the bull a year ago, and there was no denying he was a beauty.

“Is he dead?” Tom slapped his Stetson on his head and started for the hitching post in front of the closed general store, where his black stallion stood tied. Tom had left the temperamental horse well away from the other horses.

“The grizz had him down and tore him up, but he’s got a chance. You’re the best hand with hurt animals, Tom. You’ve gotta come and come fast.”

Tom jerked his chin in agreement and started to mount up. Then he halted and looked back at Abby. “Sorry, Ab. I’ll be coming around again as soon as I can.” Tom gave Wade one hard glare that promised swift, brutal retribution if any harm came to his sister.

Abby watched as Tom galloped out of town behind his cowhand, but she didn’t look particularly sad to see him go.

Wade was outright thrilled.

The fellowship outside the church broke up with a lot of conversation about that magnificent blue-black Angus bull. Red even led them in a prayer for the big animal.