Dreaming on Daisies (27 page)

Charlie shaded his eyes against the late afternoon sun, wondering at the fast pace of the rider racing toward the ranch. It appeared to be Leah’s horse, and his heart jumped to his throat. Had an accident befallen the girl, or Tom or Harding? He strode toward the barn. Time to saddle up. He peered toward the rider again only to see her slow her mount, then in another dozen yards or so, pull down to a walk.

He heaved a sigh, then stopped and waited. She’d be here soon enough—at least before he could throw a saddle and bridle on his horse one-handed. Maybe she was simply enjoying the thrill of a fast horse, but somehow he didn’t think so. He could make out her face now, and she didn’t look happy. Hadn’t she taken a herd of cattle to the pasture near the spring with Harding’s help? What happened to the man? That fella better not have laid a hand on his girl.

He walked back to the house and climbed the steps to the porch, shading his eyes again. Looked like Harding was bringing up the rear, far behind Leah, at least by a quarter mile. She had a bee in her bonnet, or he wasn’t Charlie Pape.

That Harding fella had turned into a right good worker, even if he was a banker. Leah and Harding had never said a word about the man’s occupation, but Charlie saw him ride his horse out of here every morning in his fancy duds and decided to follow him one day. Charlie considered giving the man his walking papers after that, but then he broke his arm and thought better of it.

Besides, he’d come to realize Harding was nothing at all like old man Hunt, who ran the bank with an iron rod. He’d quarreled with the bank president a few years ago when he’d asked for a loan. The skinflint knew Charlie owned the ranch, but he wouldn’t loan him a dime without seeing the deed.

Charlie had stormed out, swearing he’d never darken the door of that place again. That’s why he’d been so irate when Leah asked about a loan. He’d never take money from that bank even if he could find the deed.

He sure wished Mary had told him where she’d put it afore she went off and left him. She’d promised him she’d give it to him and make sure it was in his name. Many a time he’d wanted to make this place better. He’d smarted with shame when Leah asked if he’d sign the loan papers, and he had to say no.

But he couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth—that her ma owned the ranch and didn’t love him enough to share it with him. Even after he’d loved and cared for her child like she was his own. Not that he’d change that part of his life. Leah was his girl. He loved her so much it liked to kill him to turn her down when he knew she was right. The ranch needed help—and a man committed to work, not one who drank himself under the table.

He waited, watching Leah ride closer and studying her face. Yep, shore enough, she looked upset. He leaned against a porch post. Just like her ma in that regard. Her emotions showed bright as a summer day and no mistake.

As she walked her horse past the house toward the barn with no sign of slowing or speaking, Charlie straightened from his position and took a step forward. “What happened to Harding?”

The big sorrel gelding took three more strides before Leah pulled him to a halt, her shoulders stiff and her back rigid. “I have no idea.” She didn’t turn her head, but her words were clear as spring water.

“Uh-huh. So you left him behind, that it?”

“He knows the way home. There’s no reason for me to drag along beside him.”

“You were in some kind of hurry to get here. Runnin’ that horse pretty hard for a distance. You coulda broke his leg or taken a bad fall. We can’t afford to lose any stock due to carelessness.”

She half turned in her saddle, her voice soft. “It’s my horse, Pa, and I know what I’m doing.”

Irritation flared, and Charlie stepped to the edge of the porch. “I ain’t gonna argue about this, Daughter. The stock on this ranch are my responsibility. That one happens to be a valuable cow horse, and we don’t need him lamed by bein’ foolish.”

Leah yanked the horse’s head and booted him in the flank, bringing him around to face Charlie. “You got that wrong, Pa. The stock on this ranch are my responsibility. I know what I’m doing and don’t need to be lectured.”

Charlie gaped and blinked, working to understand what she’d said. “Since when do you speak to your father that-a way, missy?” His voice rose a notch, but he didn’t care. Leah had better change her tone and show some respect.

The door behind him banged open, and Tom strode out of the house. “What’s all the yelling about?”

Leah ignored her brother and fixed her gaze square on Charlie. “Since I found out I’m the legal owner of this ranch, that’s when.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Tom felt as though he’d been caught in some kind of bad dream that suddenly turned into a comedy. And wouldn’t you know it, that Harding fella had to ride up and butt in again, right when he wasn’t wanted. What had his sister said about owning the ranch?

“What’s wrong with you, Leah? You know this ranch belongs to Pa.” Tom stared at his father’s stony face, wondering why he hadn’t replied. “And someday it’s going to be mine. Right, Pa?”

His father’s eyes were fixed on Leah, and the color had drained from his face.

Leah didn’t so much as look at Steven Harding as he drew to a halt nearby.

Tom took a step closer to Pa and touched his shoulder. “Pa? Why aren’t you saying anything? Tell her what I said is true.”

Pa gave a slow shake of his head and brushed Tom off like he was some kind of pesky fly. “Leave me be, boy. This is between me and your sister.”

Tom crossed his arms over his chest. “No, sir, it is not. I am part of this family even if you seem to keep forgetting that fact. And someday this ranch will belong to me. As your only son and your heir, I got the right to know what she’s talking about.”

Pa laughed—a cold, dead sound. “Somehow I don’t think you’re gonna like what she has to say.”

Steven backed his horse a step but didn’t turn and leave. Tom wanted to toss the man off the property, but whatever was wrong with Leah would probably come out where everyone would know, anyway.

The door creaked again. Millie stood in the opening, smiling and beckoning, with Buddy looking over her shoulder. “Supper’s about ready. Why don’t you two put your horses in the barn and get washed up?”

Tom’s stomach chose that moment to grumble, but he ignored it. Something was going on here that he didn’t understand. He intended to get to the bottom of it, and the sooner the better.

Leah shook her head. “Not yet, Millie. I’ve got something to say, and you might as well stick around and listen. This isn’t how I wanted it to happen”—she sucked in a sharp breath—“but things don’t always happen the way we wish.”

Deep frown lines formed around Millie’s lips. “What you talkin’ about, girl? How you wanted what to happen? What did I miss?”

Leah looked at Tom. “This will probably hurt you, Tom, and I’m sorry. I found a letter a few days ago that Ma left for me. She said the ranch belonged to my pa—Aaron, her first husband—and she put the deed in my name. I own the ranch, not you or Pa.”

Tom felt shaky and sick. “You found Ma’s letters? What were you doing going through my things?”

Leah stared at her brother, all thought of what she’d been about to say blowing away like a tumbleweed in a stiff wind. “Letters? Your things? What are you talking about?” She clenched the reins tightly, quieting her restless mount, her short-clipped nails digging into her palms. “You said ‘Ma’s letters’ … ‘in my things.’ You have letters Ma wrote? Who did she write them to?”

Panic showed clear in Tom’s eyes; then a veil dropped over them. “Nothing. Letters Ma wrote to me, that’s all.”

Her father’s head snapped up, and he grabbed Tom’s arm with his good hand, yanking her brother toward him. “I always could tell when you were lyin’, boy. There’d be no reason for your ma to write letters to you with you livin’ with her. Tell the truth now. Why’d you go all white and sickly when Leah asked you that question? What are you hidin’?”

Leah looked from one to the other as dread formed in the pit of her stomach. “Tom?” She urged her horse forward a few steps until he was almost to the edge of the porch. “Do you have letters Ma wrote to me?”

He didn’t speak, and her father shook him like an angry child with a rag doll. “Tell her the truth! She’s been lied to for enough years by both of us. It’s time to come clean, boy.”

Tom’s head whipped back and forth as though he had no strength or will to hold it steady. Finally, Charlie dropped his hand and stepped back, but he kept his hands balled. Tom stood there, rocking and shivering, but no sound came from his lips.

Leah dismounted and looped the reins over the hitching rail, then walked toward her brother. “Tom?” She touched him on the shoulder. “Please tell me what you meant about Ma’s letters.”

The sadness in his eyes as he turned toward her was so unexpected it shook Leah hard. She’d anticipated anger from Tom after Pa’s harsh treatment and words, not despair that cried for understanding. While she tensed at what might be coming, she wished she could wrap her arms around her little brother and hold him tight as she had when he was a baby.

But this wasn’t the time to coddle him. Tom needed to ’fess up to whatever he’d done wrong, and she wouldn’t do him any favors by trying to protect him.

He gave his head a half shake as though attempting to wake himself from a bad dream. “I’m sorry, Leah. Truly I am.”

“For what, Tom? Tell me.” She reached out to touch him again, but the pain in his eyes stopped her. “Please?”

He nodded. “I stole the letters Ma wrote you. I was so jealous. I knew she’d promised Pa not to contact you for two years after she left. When I arrived in Portland, she asked me to mail the first letter to you. I wanted her all to myself. You were always her favorite. If you came, I’d be pushed aside again.”

Leah heard Steven’s harsh intake of breath and her father’s low rumble of anger, but she paid them no heed. “How long did this go on, Tom? How many letters?”

He spread his hands in a wide arc. “I’m not sure. I never counted. I was only going to keep the first three or four, to give her time to want me there, as much as she wanted you. Then she started worrying and wondering why you didn’t answer, and she sent another one asking if you’d gotten her letters.”

Leah nodded, understanding dawning. “You knew if I got that one, I’d write and tell her I hadn’t gotten any of them. So you had to keep taking them.”

Tom lowered his head until his chin almost touched his chest. “Yeah.”

“But you didn’t throw them away? You said you thought I was rummaging in your room. Did you keep some of them?” Leah’s emotions galloped wildly back and forth between anger, pity, and hope.

Was it possible her mother hadn’t walked off and completely forgotten her after writing the letter she’d found in the box? All this time she’d grieved her mother’s death, only to find out she had deserted her, and now to discover Ma might have cared after all ... it was almost more than Leah could grasp.

“I kept them all.” Tom lifted his head, his voice hoarse and hollow. “Wait here. I’ll get them for you.” He turned and walked away like a man whose will had been broken.

A lifetime of thoughts and memories flew through Leah’s mind. A deep, profound silence hovered as they all waited for Tom’s return. Leah looked first at her pa, then at Millie and Buddy, standing with arms entwined near the still-open front door, and finally at Steven, compassion showing clearly on his face. Her heart twisted as she remembered his words. He was leaving her too.

Footfalls on the hard ground behind Leah alerted her, and she pivoted.

Tom’s normal swagger was gone, and he all but shuffled up to her, clutching a crudely handcrafted box. He stopped in front of her and thrust it forward as though anxious to run, as she knew he must be. “Take it. They’re all there.”

He waited until she had a firm grip on the box, then sidled backward toward the bunkhouse. “I’ll be going now. The ranch is yours. I’m sure you and Pa hate me for what I’ve done.”

Leah stared, not comprehending. “I don’t hate you, Tom. I’m disappointed and even angry, but I could never hate you. Give Pa some time to get past all of this, and me, too.”

He shook his head. “I’m not so sure, Leah. I think I need time by myself.” He pivoted and walked toward the bunkhouse without looking back.

Pa lunged forward as though finally waking from a stupor. “You come back here, boy. We’re not finished!”

Leah leaped toward him and grasped his arm. “Leave him be, Pa. It’s not going to help to yell at him right now. He said he was sorry, and I believe he meant it. That’s enough for now. There’s time for more talk later.” She cradled the box against her chest. “I’m going to my room, but promise me you won’t say anything more to Tom tonight, all right?”

He stared at her for several long seconds, then nodded. “I suppose I can leave him be until tomorrow. Then he and I are goin’ to have us a long talk.” He narrowed his eyes. “Now, what was it you started to say about that deed, girl? Somethin’ about your ma leavin’ the ranch to you, is that what I heard?”

She bit her lip, hating to add any more tension to the situation. But she didn’t want to dance around the truth. There had been far too much of that over the years. “Yes. Ma left me a letter in the box you made for me when I was a girl. She said the ranch is mine—that my pa wanted me to have it—but that she’d told you she might put it in your name if you cared for me. I’m not sure how I feel about it yet, but I was planning on talking to you about it. Just not like this. I’m sorry.”

Steven stepped forward and cleared his throat. “I’ll be excusing myself now and go check on Tom.” He smiled at Millie. “I’d love to have some of your delicious supper later, if you don’t mind holding it for me.” He waited for her assent, then headed for the bunkhouse.

Millie stared at Steven, then grabbed Buddy’s arm and dragged him inside. Leah could hear her hissing unintelligible words as they closed the door behind them.

Leah faced her father—or, at least, the man she’d called Pa for as long as she could remember. They stood alone near the hitching rail, and the silence felt like a smothering blanket, making it hard to breathe. “Pa? I need answers. Not tomorrow. Now.”

He shook his head like an old dog struggling to wake from a deep sleep, his eyes clouded and sad. “I got no idea what to say to you, girl. You got the say-so around here from now on, according to the paper your ma left. Guess that’s all you need to know, ain’t it?”

Anguish rose inside Leah, and she wanted to wail. “No, it’s not all, Pa. There’s a whole lot more I want to know, and you are the only one who can give me the answers. You. Not Tom, or Millie, or Buddy, or Steven.”

He kicked a loose rock, and it bounced a few feet and struck the bottom step of the porch. “I don’t got any answers that would make you happy, Leah. Nary a one.”

She gripped his arm tightly above the elbow. “I didn’t ask you to make me happy. I asked you to give me answers.”

Pa raised his eyes and met hers, and Leah felt a dart of pain as she read the deep struggle in his own. A war raged in her father’s heart, almost too terrible to comprehend.

She released her hold and took a step back. “Is it all true, what Ma said in her letter? She left because she hated it here, and you convinced her not to tell me, and to pretend to be dead, so I wouldn’t leave too? But you were supposed to tell me the truth. You promised her you’d tell me after a couple of years went by and allow me to make my own decision. You never told me at all, Pa. You lied.”

He jerked as though a whip had struck him across the face. His lips formed words but nothing escaped.

Leah held out her hands, desperate to understand. “Why, Pa?”

“I wish I could tell you somethin’ that would ease your mind, but I can’t. There ain’t nothin’ that can take back what I did or undo the pain I caused. I got no excuse, girl. None at all.”

“I’m not asking for excuses. I want reasons!” She flung the words at him as though they were daggers. She only wished they could pierce the thick hide of resistance that shrouded the man standing bent and stoop-shouldered before her.

“I couldn’t lose you, Leah girl. You were all I had left. I couldn’t stand the thought I might be all alone,” he whispered. “I guess that’s all there was to it. I’d lost your ma. She threw me away like I was a no-account critter, and then Tom ran off too.”

He stiffened. “But now the ranch is yours to do with as you want. That’s the way it ought to be, I guess. It’s fair, after what I done. I hope someday you can find it in your heart to forgive me, but I won’t fault you if you can’t.”

He plucked his hat from his head, wiped his perspiring forehead, and jammed the hat back down over his balding crown. “I got chores to do, and there ain’t nothin’ more to say.” He stalked across the clearing to the barn without a backward glance.