Dreaming on Daisies (25 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Tom stalked across the barnyard and yanked on the barn door. “Pa? You in here?” He stepped into the cool, dimly lit interior and looked around, frustration building in his chest like steam in a teakettle. “Pa!” He strode from one stall door to another, peering inside, then over to the stack of loose hay piled against the back wall, giving the edges a kick. He figured he’d find his father sleeping off another drinking binge.

He hurried out to the wagon yard and stopped short. The buggy was gone. Had Pa driven himself to town with a broken arm? More likely Buddy took him. He hustled to the house and pushed through the kitchen door, ready to holler for Millie.

She stood a few feet away, a scowl on her face. “Not another step inside this kitchen, Thomas Pape. You hustle and back up.”

She pointed at his feet. “I don’t know what you stepped in, but it looks like you’ve been walkin’ through somethin’ unpleasant and more’n likely stinky to boot. Out!” Millie thrust her hands toward him. “Clean up before you traipse across my kitchen floor.”

Tom gritted his teeth. He loved Millie almost as much as he’d loved Ma, but he didn’t have time to be scolded right now. “Fine, I’ll leave. But where’s Pa? He’s not in the barn, and the buggy’s gone.”

“Yep. Him and Buddy headed to town. We’re gettin’ low on supplies, and I sent a list. Somethin’ troublin’ you?” She peered at him with alert, piercing eyes.

“I’m sorry about the floor. I’ll get out of your way,” he said halfheartedly. He’d started to shut the door behind him before she could question him further when another thought occurred.

He poked his head into the room, careful to keep his muddy boots outside. “Millie?”

She swiveled, a damp rag in one hand and a bucket of water in the other. “What you needin’ now?”

“Did Leah go with Pa and Buddy?”

“Nope.” Millie clamped her lips together as though fearful a secret might escape.

Tom narrowed his eyes. He knew that look. He’d seen it often enough when he was young, but he also knew that no amount of prying would soften Millie once she decided to keep her own counsel. “Any idea where she might be?”

She shrugged and dipped the rag in the bucket. “Around. Since it’s nigh on to supper time, I’m sure everybody will be home soon, includin’ your sister.”

She scowled again. “Now, get on out of here and let me get my work done so’s I can get supper on the table. Your pa and Buddy should be rollin’ in anytime.”

Tom turned away, wondering at her brusque tone and evasive reply. What was she hiding? The crunch of wheels on rock and the clop of hooves alerted him that Pa and Buddy must be home. He’d waited too long for this talk with his father, and he didn’t intend to wait any longer.

Buddy reined the horse to a stop in front of the barn and set the brake, then swung down. “I’ll unhitch, boss. You might want to head into the house and rest that arm. Seems like it’s been paining you all the way home.”

Tom winced. If Pa was in pain, he might not be in the mood for what Tom planned to say. He almost let out a laugh. Pa would probably never be in the mood to listen. He strode over as his father awkwardly clambered to the ground. “Pa? You got a minute before you go inside?”

Buddy shot him a look, then grasped the horse by the bridle and led him through the open barn doors.

Pa, shoulders hunched, eyed him. “I’m wantin’ a cup of coffee pretty bad right now, so don’t take long. Or you can follow me to the kitchen and speak your piece there. It’s up to you.”

Tom shook his head. “I’ll hurry, but I’d rather talk here if it’s all the same to you.” He motioned his father away from the barn. His courage faltered, and he almost changed his mind.

No, this was important. Besides, it was his due. He straightened his shoulders. “I’ve been doing a lot of work since I arrived.”

His pa grunted but didn’t reply.

“I haven’t gotten paid a nickel.”

Charlie rounded on him. “You got a free place to live and food in your belly, doncha?”

Tom’s gut tightened. This was exactly what he’d expected, although deep in his heart he’d hoped for more. “Yeah, I do. But I’m your son, and this place will be mine someday. I don’t mind working every day if it’s needed, but it would be nice to have you appreciate it sometimes.”

He bit his lip, wishing he could take back that last part. He’d only planned on asking for money, not approval or appreciation. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Not that I expect it.”

“Why should you? You’re my son, but that didn’t stop you from walkin’ away from this ranch years ago.”

Tom grimaced. “I was young, Pa. And I was missing Ma. She was alone and—” He stopped as anger blossomed in his father’s cheeks.

“You sure as the dickens didn’t stay young all these years. You coulda come back anytime once you growed up. It weren’t like your ma needed you to keep her company every minute. You ever once think maybe Leah and I needed you here? That Buddy was gettin’ up in years, and we could use another set of hands on the ranch? You never so much as wrote to see if any of us was alive.”

Pa’s voice choked on the last word, and his face contorted. “Now you come back thinkin’ you can waltz right in and get all sorts of smiles and a big thank-you-kindly. It don’t work that way, boy. Not now and not ever.”

Tom fisted his hands by his sides. “Ma needed me. I told you that.”

“Yeah, so you said. But so did I. And she wasn’t sick when you took off and left us.”

“But all you wanted me for was work. It’s not like you cared about me. Ma got sick. Bad sick. It was cancer. I couldn’t leave her to …” He turned his head and choked back a sob.

The picture exploded in his mind—his mother lying on her bed, wasting away from the cancer that killed her one day at a time. As he’d sat by her bed helpless to take away the disease, he’d hated his pa. Hated that the man hadn’t followed his wife and convinced her to return home years ago.

Maybe she wouldn’t have come, but he didn’t so much as try. “Why, Pa? You never tried to see her after she left. You never wrote to her, not once. Why didn’t you care enough to come when she was dying? Why did you ignore my letter and stay away?”

Gravel crunched behind him, and Tom turned. Leah stood a few yards away, her fingers to her throat and her face white, Steven Harding one pace behind. Leah extended her hand toward their father. “Pa?”

Charles Pape’s face turned as red as a man whose head was stuck in a noose. “I don’t have to answer to you, boy. You run outta here and never looked back. You didn’t care about your sister, who nigh worried herself sick, or Millie, who looked like walkin’ death for months after you left. As for your ma …”

His face went from red to deathly pale as the blood drained from it. “I’m sorry she suffered, truly I am. But I won’t talk to you about her, or to anyone else. And that’s the end of it.” He stalked onto the porch, bolting through the front door and pulling it closed behind him with a decisive click.

Leah stared after her father, then turned her eyes to Tom. “Is it true, little brother? Did she suffer for months with only you to tend her?” She brushed her palm across her cheeks, swiping at tears that she couldn’t control. She’d gotten the first glimpse into her mother’s heart since she’d become an adult, and now this new pain was added to the rest of her troubles.

Cancer. The dread disease that doctors still didn’t understand or know how to treat. Only that the patient wasted away—sometimes lasting weeks, other times months, or even beyond—often in excruciating pain.

She wouldn’t wish that on anyone, and especially her mother. “Did Pa really know she was sick and refuse to come?”

Tom shot a look at Steven. “I don’t want to talk about it in front of strangers.”

Steven jerked as though suddenly awakened and took a step back. “You are right, of course. I have some things to take care of in the bunkhouse.” He bowed his head toward Leah. “If you need me for anything …”

Leah wanted to grab Steven’s hands and hold on tight, drawing from his gentle strength. She’d always seen herself as a strong, capable woman—sometimes more competent than her father—but right now she felt as weak as a newborn calf. “I want you to stay. Please,” she murmured to him.

Tom glared, not trying to hide his displeasure.

Leah glared back, then thought to soften her expression. “He’s not a stranger, Tom. He’s my friend, and I think if you’d let him, he’d be yours, too.”

Steven gave her an encouraging smile. “I’m not sure there’s any way I can help, but I’ll certainly listen and try.”

“Thank you.” She touched Steven’s arm, her other hand still clutching her wood box.

Tom curled his lip. “All people do is walk away when you need them. But I won’t fight you about it. I don’t really care.”

Tom kicked at a rock. “Nobody can help, mister. Not you, or Leah, or Pa. Ma’s dead and gone. There’s nothing to be done about it now.”

Steven arched his brows but didn’t respond.

Leah shifted the box to a spot deeper under her arm.

Tom lifted his head and jerked a thumb toward the box. “What’s that?”

She averted her eyes, unwilling to let him see too deeply into her heart. She allowed several moments to pass before she replied, “Some things I collected as a child. Ma and I put various objects in it when I was growing up.”

Her brother gave a dismissive wave. “Girls and their play-pretties. Truth be told, Leah, I’m about done with this place. It’s clear that old man in there doesn’t care about me at all.”

Distress coursed through Leah. “Tom! That’s no way to talk about Pa. Can’t you show some respect?”

“Why should I? He doesn’t care about either of us.”

She rounded on him, sorrow warring with anger in her heart. “I don’t know the details about what happened to Ma, or what happened between her and Pa. But I do know that you didn’t write to me when she got sick. You didn’t give me a chance to care for her or to say good-bye. So don’t point a finger at Pa.”

Tom hung his head. Finally, he lifted it, and his stormy eyes met hers. “I didn’t write because she told me not to.”

Leah felt as though she’d been pitched from a rank horse and landed flat on her stomach. “I don’t understand.” She gazed from Tom to Steven and back again, hoping one of them might have an explanation. “Why would she say that?”

Tom shook his head. “It wasn’t only you. She didn’t want me to write to Pa or Millie, either. I think she hated having anyone see her toward the end, once she knew she wasn’t going to make it.”

Leah’s lips parted. “But you did write to Pa. You didn’t heed what Ma said, and you wrote anyway.” It wasn’t a question. She’d heard what Tom had tossed at their father and Pa’s less-than-charitable reply.

Tom squared his shoulders. “I did.”

“Then I don’t understand why you couldn’t have done the same for me. Pa might have been able to ignore your request, but I would have come.” She wrapped her arms around herself to contain a shiver, hating the image that wouldn’t leave her mind of Ma lying sick and dying.

His gaze shifted away, and his body tensed. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“Yes, it does! It matters to me. You and Pa both kept me from knowing about Ma from the time she left until she died. That wasn’t kind, and it wasn’t fair, and I want to know the reason.”

Steven touched her shoulder in a warm, comforting way. Leah moved closer. Steven placed his arm across her shoulder and, suddenly, all felt settled and steady once more.

Tom took a step closer, his breathing ragged. “You want to know why? I’ll tell you. Because I left home to take care of Ma. I abandoned the ranch and everything I knew to follow her. And you know what happened? She cried and carried on because it was you she wanted. Not me. I fetched and carried for her when she got sick because she was my ma and I loved her.

“And all she could talk about was you. ‘Leah is such a sweet girl,’ she said. ‘I miss her so much.’ And, ‘Why doesn’t Leah write to me?’ It wasn’t fair, that’s what. If I’d written to you and you had come, she would have forgotten me completely.” His red-rimmed eyes glimmered with unshed tears.

Leah could only stare, barely able to believe what she was hearing. “I can’t accept that, Tom. I’m sure Ma appreciated everything you did for her, and she loved you very much. You were there every day, but I was gone. That’s the only reason she spoke of me so much. It would have been the same for you, if I’d gone with her and you stayed here.”

He backed up a couple of steps, his eyes wild and his body shaking. “No, she loved you and didn’t care about me. I saw it for six years. Nothing you can say will change that. Nothing.” He turned and bolted for the bunkhouse.

Leah took a step, slipping out of Steven’s embrace, intent on following and trying to bring her brother some kind of comfort.

Steven grasped her hand. “No. Let him be, Leah. He needs time alone. If you go to him now, he’ll only resent you more.”

“I don’t understand why he resents me at all.” She pulled free, irritation at Steven’s comment overcoming the earlier warmth she’d felt at his touch. “I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m the one who was lied to and left behind, not Tom. He had our mother for years while I stayed on the ranch and put up with Pa.”