Blue Moon Promise (8 page)

She was right. Lucy was entrancing with her golden curls and pink cheeks. Her full lips looked soft and inviting. Nate jerked his thoughts away from that direction. His priority was to see Pa better, then he could worry about getting rid of Miss Lucy and her siblings.

The door banged and they both turned. Nate’s heart thumped at the sight of his brother striding toward him. “Rog!” He embraced his younger brother, then stepped back to study him. Roger looked older, wiser. “Just seeing you is going to make Pa feel better.”

Roger’s smile vanished. “Pa is sick?”

Nate nodded. “His heart. He’s going to have to take it easy. You’re home in time to pick up some of the slack.”

Roger’s blue eyes clouded. “I’m not staying. This is just a visit for a day or two before I head for Oklahoma.”

He would not react. That always made things worse. “What’s in Oklahoma?”

Roger shrugged. “That’s what I aim to find out.”

“Can’t you at least stay until Pa is on his feet? I’m going to need some help.”

His face expressionless, Roger stared at Nate. “I know how it will be, Nate. Little by little, you’ll want more and more from me. Things I can’t give. I don’t want to be stuck here all my life. I want the city, people. It’s like being buried alive here.”

Roger had never been happy on the ranch. He had to choose his own path, but Nate wanted to grab his brother by the throat and pound some sense into him. What more could anyone want than the ranch? And Roger was a Stanton. Shouldn’t he want to be part of building the Stanton cattle empire?

“Don’t look at me like that,” Roger said. “I know you love this place, but we’re all different. I want more than running cattle for my life.”

“Like what? You still don’t know, do you?”

Roger shrugged again. “Give me time. I’m only twenty-nine. I’ll figure it out. But I’ll do it my way, not yours.”

And that was always the way it was. Nate took his brother’s arm. “Let’s go see Pa.”

SEVEN
 
 

C
arrying the tray of coffee cups, Lucy hung back as the two men entered the master bedroom. Henry was propped up on pillows with a Lone Star quilt over his legs. His eyes were closed and his mouth hung open slightly, the expression accentuating his pallor. With his hat off, his hair looked thinner and grayer. Pity welled in her chest as she saw him like that, his strength gone and his age showing.

“Maybe we should come back later,” she whispered, herding the children back toward the door.

At the sound of her voice, Henry’s eyes opened. He blinked, then looked past Nate to where his younger son stood. He reared up in the bed. “Roger?” His voice was weak and disbelieving.

Roger crossed the few feet to the bed and took his father’s hand. “It’s me, Pa.”

Henry kicked the quilt off his feet. “Did someone telegraph you that I was dying or something?”

“No, I was traveling through Dallas and decided to come home for a visit. I won’t be here long.” Roger shot a warning glance at Nate. “Just a few days.”

Henry’s lips pressed together, and the animation faded from his face. “I reckon we’ll take what we can get, then, son. If you can just pitch in for a day or two, I’ll be on my feet in a few days.”

Roger smiled, but it seemed forced. “I can do that, I reckon, Pa.”

Lucy edged toward the bed, eager to know more about the family dynamics. Roger was most handsome and dashing. What had brought about the rift she sensed?

Henry leaned back against the pillows. “What have you been up to?”

Roger pulled a chair closer to the bed. “I did a stint as a stevedore on a steamboat until the thing blew up near St. Louis. Then I worked for the railroad as a conductor for a few months. I quit when the train reached San Francisco and worked at the shipyards for a few months. I was with Custer for a while, but luckily, I lit out before the Little Bighorn. After that I worked at a bank awhile. I decided to come back this way and see what it’s like in Atlanta.”

“I thought you were going to Oklahoma.” Nate’s frown was ferocious.

“There’s a girl I want to say hello to in Oklahoma first,” Roger said.

“Be careful if you’re traveling by yourself. There are still some renegade Comanche bands around. Neighbors got burned out two months ago.”

Roger returned Nate’s frown. “I’m always careful.”

Lucy wanted to find a way to end the tension rippling in the room. “I made you some fresh coffee.” She brushed past the men with the tray and let Henry take a cup. “Nate showed me how to make it. No sugar this time.”

Henry grinned. “You’ll make a rancher’s wife yet, Lucy.”

Roger cleared his throat and glanced at Lucy. “About that wife thing. Young Jed tells me you arranged the marriage, Pa. I just want to make it clear to you that I won’t stand for anything like that.”

“Roger,” Nate hissed. “Now’s not the time to upset him.”

Henry waved his hand. “I’m not an invalid, Nate. It was just a little spell. Your brother can speak his mind.”

Roger pushed his cowboy hat to the back of his head and sat back in his chair. “You can’t run our lives for us, Pa. You’ve lived your life. Let us live ours.”

Lucy’s cheeks scorched. She didn’t want to hear this. Had Roger seen her small size and found her wanting too? Nothing she could say would change their minds. Only action would do. The thought of facing the cows in the barn made her shiver, but she was going to learn how to milk them and chop wood. And anything else it took to show these men she could be the best rancher’s wife they’d ever seen.

Henry caught her eye. “You’re being rude to Lucy. I won’t have it.”

Roger glanced up at her. “I mean no disrespect to Lucy. I’m sure she’s a fine lady.”

Henry sat up. “This is ridiculous. It’s not your business, Roger.”

“It’s not yours either,” Roger shot back. “You had no business arranging a marriage for Nate without his knowledge.”

“I think your brother can speak for himself,” Henry said.

Lucy glanced at Nate, expecting him to put in his displeasure as well, but he merely sat in the chair with his arms folded across his chest.

Lucy’s fingers curled into her palms. “I would prefer you not discuss me as though I’m the bedside table.”

Roger lifted a brow, then rose from the chair. “I seem to have left my manners in San Francisco. I’m sorry, Miss Lucy. I don’t know you, but I’m sure you’re a suitable wife for Nate.” He went toward the door. “I’m going to have a bath. See you at supper.”

Lucy’s legs felt wobbly, and she sank onto the chair he’d vacated. It was bad enough to have one Stanton opposed to her presence. How was she going to convince them all that she could do this? Especially now that she was beginning to have doubts herself.

A FIRE BLAZED in Lucy’s fireplace, and the warmth enveloped her. The wind rattled the window but failed to flutter the curtains. The house must be tighter than the old house in Wabash. Her room held a large bed covered with a feather top and several quilts. It appeared to be a woman’s room with rose wallpaper and pink curtains.

Her siblings were across the hall. Eileen had wanted to sleep with her until she’d seen the lavender room that held a white single bed and some toys. In the closet she found a toy train and several carved toy soldiers as well as a stuffed bear with a missing eye. Lucy suspected the toys were Nate’s.

Her trunk was by the closet, and she crouched beside it. When she opened it, her hand hovered over the top dress. Hadn’t it been on the bottom? It was her work dress, and she’d been careful to put her only good dress on top.

She lifted her meager clothing from the trunk and shook out the two dresses. Her arms were tired, and her good dress felt heavy in her hands. When a knock came at the door, she laid the garment on the bed and went to open it.

Nate stood in the hall. When he saw her, he tugged at his collar and shifted his feet. “I would like to speak with you.”

“Is your father all right?”

“He’s sleeping. I checked on him.”

She stood aside to let him pass, but he shook his head. “It would be better to talk in the parlor.”

A perverse impulse to add to his discomfort kept her standing in her room. “We
are
married,” she reminded him. “I’m unpacking. You can talk to me while I put my things away. If you wish, you can leave the door open.”

He frowned, then hesitantly stepped into her room. “I haven’t been in here for years.”

“It appears to be a woman’s room. Whose was it?”

“I believe my mother used it as her sewing room.”

Lucy lifted her good dress and shook it again, then hung it on a hook in the closet. “What did you need to speak to me about?”

He was staring at the closet. “Are those all the dresses you have?”

Heat rose to her cheeks. “I’m sorry if my attire fails to impress you.”

“It’s not that—it’s just that I thought women loved pretty dresses. I expected you to have others like the one you’re wearing. Expensive and lavish. The gray one on the bed is worn. Even the one in your hand has seen better days.”

She looked at the brown dress in her hand. “I wore my mother’s best dress to give me courage. I didn’t want you to be introduced to a frumpish wife.”

When he didn’t answer, she peeked up through her lashes and saw his expression soften.

He walked to the window and gazed out. “How did you hear of my father and his desire to marry me off? Did he run an ad? I want to understand how all this transpired.”

Her hands stilled. “You should ask your father such questions. Suffice it to say that he persuaded me. I was not looking for a husband, if that’s what you are asking.”

He turned from the window and stared at her. “Most men would be reluctant to take on the responsibility of your siblings.”

She drew herself as tall as she could. “Mr. Stanton, I have no interest in fleecing you or your father. I came here in good faith, intending to pull my weight and be a helpmeet to a kind, Christian man. So far, I’ve seen little evidence that you possess either of those traits.”

His gray eyes darkened, and his lips tightened into a firm line. “It’s hardly unchristian to question the motives of a woman who would marry a man sight unseen. There is more here than you’re willing to tell me.”

The fact that he was right took the wind out of her sails. She was hardly representing Jesus well herself with her evasiveness. She slumped onto the bed. “Very well, Mr. Stanton. I would not want you to question my integrity, so I shall tell you the unbridled truth. Your father came to see how we were getting along. He’d heard of my father’s death and had received a letter from my stepmother asking for assistance. He came to see what he could do.”

Nate frowned. “Pa came to
you
?”

“He did. He was friends with my father in their younger days. When he heard of our circumstances, he put forth the proposal of marriage. I was quite unsure about agreeing to something so extreme.”

“So why did you?”

She forced herself to hold his gaze. “Several reasons. I lost my job at the dressmaker’s shop, and we were being evicted from our home. Then someone broke in and threatened us. The policeman said a man had been watching us since my father died. He thought it a good idea to get out of town.” Lucy was tired, so tired, but she lifted her chin.

“You told Pa all of this?”

She nodded. “Most of it. I didn’t mention the intruder, only our circumstances. He was so kind . . .” And shrewd. Henry knew exactly what he wanted.

He lifted a brow. “Pa is a sucker for a hard-luck story, especially when the person caught in the circumstances has a bit of pluck. So he offered you a way out and you snatched it up.”

“That’s not what happened at all. Your father basically talked me into accepting his proposition.”

“Come now, Miss Marsh, you can’t expect me to swallow that.”

“It’s
Mrs. Stanton
. Or just call me Lucy and be done with it. And if you don’t believe me, ask your father. I—I thought perhaps God was opening a door so the three of us could stay together. Without a job or a home, I would have had to take the children to an orphanage.”

He absorbed her statement in silence. “I can see where you might believe God had done this,” he said finally. “It was a very queer thing for my father to suggest.”