Dreaming on Daisies (29 page)

Charles squirmed under her scrutiny and shrugged.

“You are a man with an overabundance of pride, from what I can make out since meeting you.” She cocked her head to the side. “I would guess that you had a difficult time admitting your wife would leave you for any reason, and you did not want your children—or your neighbors or friends—to know the truth, as it might cast you in a poor light.”

He groaned and placed his face in his hand, leaning his good elbow on the table and rocking back and forth. More than anything, he wanted to bolt from this table and sprint for the saloon—to drown the pain and loss in whiskey until it didn’t hurt anymore. “I need a drink.”

Frances desired nothing more than to take the man by the ear and slap him, good and hard. First he’d held her hand and acted all humble and sorry; then he’d admitted to a bald-faced lie that must have broken his children’s hearts. And now he planned to run to the saloon and get drunk. Maybe a hard shake until his teeth rattled would be a better idea. If only the café wasn’t filling with patrons, she’d do it.

She leaned across the table and hissed between pursed lips, although at this point she didn’t really care who overheard. “Stop your blubbering, Mr. Pape, and act like a man.”

He dropped his hands from his face and scowled. “I am not blubberin’, Mrs. Cooper. I will have you know I’m full of sorrow for what I done to my children.”

“Ha.” She allowed one lip to curl in disgust. “So full of sorrow that a trip to the saloon seems in order?”

His face reddened, and his cheeks hollowed. He looked as though all the air had oozed from his body. “I reckon that wasn’t the best idea, huh?”

“Not in the least, Mr. Pape. Not … in … the … least. In fact, I would have to say it might be one of the worst ideas I have had the misfortune to hear in a long time. Why in the world do you think drowning yourself in alcohol is going to solve your problems at home? Can you not see that doing so will only further grieve your daughter, if not your son?”

He lowered his head and refused to meet her eyes. “They’ve already been grieved so much I can’t imagine seein’ their pa drunk one more time will make much difference. ’Course, Tom’s long gone, so he won’t care.”

She rapped her knuckles on the table, and his head snapped up. “I beg to differ with you, sir. Your daughter has been hurt enough and does not deserve any more ill treatment. I was going to tell you that I was proud of you. I will admit that I had heard a portion of this from Leah some time ago. Not the part about the deed or much detail about you or your wife, but Leah mentioned the allegation from Tom that his mother had been alive all this time.

“I had hoped you would come to me and share the truth. That you would trust me enough to help you. I appreciate that you finally did so now. I am very pleased you have told the truth, even at your own expense.

“But I am quite disappointed. I must emphasize
quite disappointed
that you would regress in such a manner, and at the first sign of trouble, assume that drinking would solve your problems.”

She fingered her napkin in her lap. “I had thought, hoped, imagined that you had given up the evils of drink after we had started talking and formed a friendship of sorts.”

His eyes widened. “I did. Truly I did. I don’t know why, but I didn’t feel the need for it anymore. Until now, that is.” His gaze fell, but not before she’d spotted the raw pain and confusion.

“How will whiskey solve your problems, Charles?” She softened her voice. “Will drink bring Tom back or earn Leah’s love? Will it give you back your self-respect or your standing in the community?”

“I suppose not, but I don’t know anythin’ else that will, either.” He mumbled the words, but Frances caught each one as they tumbled from his lips.

“You remind me of someone. More than I care to admit, I’m afraid.”

A tiny shred of interest lit his eyes. “Who might that be?”

“Myself a few months ago.”

His jaw slackened. “You used to drink?”

A chuckle escaped before Frances could stop it. “Hardly. But I am afraid I had the same problem with pride as plagues you. I believed I had all the answers and everyone needed to fall into line the way I demanded. What I did not understand was that my actions were driving those I loved farther and farther away every day.”

“Who said anythin’ about pride, woman?” Charles reared back in his chair.

“You did, by your response right now. You admit you hurt your children one minute, then fight against anyone trying to help you see the error of your ways the next. You are not God, Charles. He is the only perfect One in His creation, as much as you might disagree with that fact. And He is the only One able to turn this situation around before it grows worse.”

Stubbornness firmed the lines of his jaw. “God don’t want nothin’ to do with me. Him and me parted ways when Mary left. I wasn’t good enough to keep her love, and I’m not good enough for Him, neither.”

“Hogwash. If your wife did not love you, that was her loss. She was a fool to leave you and your children, no matter what her excuse. I assume you were not beating her or the children?”

“Of course not! I never laid a hand on any of them, and I done my best to show her how much I loved her, every day.” He wagged his head. “She still had feelin’s for her dead husband, Leah’s pa. I think she couldn’t stand bein’ on the ranch anymore, with everythin’ remindin’ her of him. It was too hard, I suppose.”

Charles rubbed his chin. “But I got to admit, it stung somethin’ fierce when she left me.”

Frances nodded, her heart filled with sympathy toward this man and ire at his wife. “I can only imagine. But you spoke correctly when you said you were not good enough to keep God’s love.”

Charles gaped. “Huh?”

“None of us are, although I tried to tell myself that I was a good person and others did not understand me. I suppose I still feel that way at times, but it is not true, you know. We aren’t good enough to earn God’s love. He gives it to us as a gift of grace, not because we did anything to earn it. He loves us as much as He loves His Son, Jesus. When you understand that, you will have a different outlook on love.”

He hung his head. “I’m a low-down polecat who’s done little good in this life, so that’s hard for me to accept, but I’ll have to take your word for it. I never knowed you to lie, Frances.”

His eyes looked up, and he reached across the table, palm up. “I’d like to know more about that kind of love, truly I would. You make it sound like somethin’ worth havin’. But I’m not sure I can do it all alone. Would you make an old man happy and be my friend while I try to figure all this out?”

She slipped her hand into his and gave his fingers a soft squeeze, her mind returning to the offer of friendship given to her by Wilma a few months before. Gratitude welled in her heart like a spring of clean water rinsing out the grime and grit of the world.

Frances smiled. “It is the least I can do, Charles. I would be proud to help you learn how to stand strong and depend on God’s love instead of your own pride. I will admit, it is not an easy lesson, and you may take more steps backward than forward, but if you continue the journey, you will be more than happy with the results at its completion.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

May 30, 1881

The day had dragged with Steven gone to the bank. Leah hated becoming emotionally dependent on anyone, especially a man—and particularly since she knew Steven was considering moving to La Grande. Her father and brother had both failed her in the past, and there was no guarantee Steven wouldn’t end up being cut from the same cloth.

She’d told herself repeatedly that Steven would stand by her. After all, he’d declared he wanted to have some kind of future together. Any betrayal by him couldn’t be true. But years ago she’d thought the best of Pa, Ma, and Tom, as well.

Leah glanced at the sun, well past its zenith, and smiled. Steven would be home in the next hour or so. Most of the pressing chores were done, and Buddy was turning the horses they’d used today out to pasture. Maybe she should find her father and have the talk she’d been dreading since finding her mother’s letter. But what would he say that hadn’t already been said?

She’d waited, worried he might hit the bottle again when he learned the truth. For some reason that she still didn’t understand, he’d been strangely sober for over three weeks—or possibly longer—and she hated doing anything that might tip the balance in the other direction.

Well, there was no help for it. The longer she put it off, the harder it would become. Pa had been quiet and withdrawn since Tom left the ranch, and she’d not had an opportunity to talk with him since that awful day she’d confronted them both.

A chill chased across her skin, and she rubbed her arms in spite of the warm sun. Tom had always assumed the ranch would be his someday. When he’d walked away six years ago without looking back, Leah figured he’d lost all interest. But when he returned, seeming to think that the ranch was his right, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

Truth be told, she had expected him to rear up on his hind legs and scream long and loud. Instead, he’d left on the stage for parts unknown. But maybe he’d come back soon and do just that, once the shock of their mother’s revelation faded.

She pushed open the barn door and stepped into the cool, dim interior, thankful Pa was here rather than in the house. Not that she didn’t trust Millie or Buddy, but this was between Pa and her. “Pa? You still in here?”

“I’m in the tack room, cleanin’ the saddles. Come keep me company while I finish up.” There was a cheerful note in his voice that she hadn’t heard in months—or had it been years?

Leah stopped in the open doorway and smiled, loving the sight of her father standing relaxed and easy in the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the window. “Looks like you’re almost finished.”

She stepped into the spacious room and glanced around. “The shelves are dusted! Oh my. And all the bridles are clean and bits shining.” She turned amazed eyes on her father. He hadn’t done anything like this in years; it had always fallen on her shoulders. “I’ve been meaning to take care of this for some time now.”

He growled low in his throat. “Wasn’t nothin’. I reckon you’ve had more than your share of work. Thought you might like things all spiffed up and purty.”

She wanted to race across the open space and throw her arms around his neck and hug him, but she stood rooted to the ground. This was not in character. Who was this man, and why the sudden change? Was it possible he hoped she’d feel sorry for him and return control of the ranch?

Shame washed over her mere seconds later. That was unkind and certainly without foundation. Had she become so hardened by her father’s past actions that she couldn’t take his current kindness at face value? She moved closer and touched his shoulder. “Thank you, Pa. I know Ma always appreciated it too.”

He ducked his head and kicked at a rock embedded in the hard-packed dirt floor. “I’m doin’ it for you.” He raised watery eyes and smiled. “But don’t you go to repeatin’ that, or I’ll have to deny it. I don’t want Tom comin’ back and thinkin’ I’m gettin’ soft.”

Leah tipped her head to the side. “Tom wouldn’t think worse of you, Pa.”

“Maybe so, maybe not. But I don’t aim to give him the satisfaction. He’s been plumb ornery since he got home. The boy needs to be put in his place and not be so cocky. When he gets back, if he comes back, I’m goin’ to tell him so. See if I don’t.”

Leah sighed. She’d started to hope Pa was softening, and he had to toss this out. “Have you considered he might not be as ornery if he thought you weren’t against him?”

He dropped the cleaning rag onto the saddle and swiveled toward her. “I ain’t against him at all. I don’t like his attitude since he got back, thinkin’ he can spout off and speak his mind without carin’ whose feelin’s he might be trompin’ on.”

“Have you told him he’s hurt your feelings, Pa?”

He jerked and gaped at her. “Me? I wasn’t talkin’ about myself; I meant you. All that talk about your ma and her not writin’ to you or askin’ you to come see her. I saw how much it cut you, and I’m plumb sorry. You didn’t deserve to be caught in the middle of this mess.”

Leah hesitated, unsure what to say. It was rare for her father to apologize, and it meant even more since he still seemed wounded by her mother’s desertion. But she knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t appreciate her camping on what he’d said and sifting through his words. “Thanks, Pa. I’m sorry too.”

“’Bout what? You didn’t do nothin’ wrong that I can remember.” He scratched his head. “Somethin’ you need to tell your pa?”

“I meant I’m sorry it’s been hard for you, too.” She hesitated a moment, then plunged forward. “Actually, there is. I know you must be upset about Ma leaving the ranch to me. You’ve thought it would be yours all these years, and you’ve worked hard to make it a success.”

She winced. “I’m not going to lie to you, Pa. You’ve let a lot of things go, what with your drinking and all, but I think I’m starting to understand that more than I used to.”

He bent over the saddle, rubbing with renewed vigor. “Maybe, maybe not. Guess I have been drinkin’ a mite more than I oughta.”

He lifted his head and stared straight into her eyes. “Truth be told, I shouldn’t have been drinkin’ at all. It hasn’t done a blasted thing but make me miserable. I hate myself the next day, and even more when I see how it hurts you. Me and God talked about it, and I decided to give it up. With His help, if He’s willin’.”

Leah wanted to hug him but wasn’t sure he’d receive it. “I’m glad, Pa. More than I can say. And I’m proud of you too.”

A wave of red suffused his cheeks. “What you think of Mrs. Cooper?”

Leah struggled to take in his declaration about drinking, much less his mention of Mrs. Cooper. “Uh, I suppose she’s a nice-enough woman. A bit outspoken and blunt, but she seems to have a good heart.”

“Uh-huh. My thoughts exactly.” He commenced to scrubbing the leather again.

Leah touched his arm. “Pa? I’m very happy about what you said—about not drinking anymore. It’s wonderful. But why did you ask me about Mrs. Cooper?”

He mumbled under his breath.

“What did you say?”

He kept his eyes cast down, and his fingers kept moving. “I’m thinkin’ of callin’ on her, is all. Didn’t know what you might think. But I don’t got nothin’ to offer a woman, especially now. Guess it was a poor idea all around. Forget I asked about her, all right?”

Leah’s heart hammered in her chest. Mrs. Cooper and Pa? She shook her head, not sure if she should shout with laughter or groan with despair. “All right, then. Pa, about the ranch, I was thinking—”

He dropped the rag and his head snapped up. “Don’t you go to sayin’ what I think you’re going to. I won’t take no charity, even from my daughter. I ought not to have expected anything different from your ma.”

Leah opened her lips to protest, but the words died before they were born. Stubborn pride shone on Pa’s face, as well as something else. Sadness. Grief. A yearning she’d not seen before.

“Pa? We haven’t really talked about Ma leaving, but it had to cut deep. Did you love her when you married, or were you mostly trying to give her security and a man to help around the ranch?” She worded it that way intentionally, praying he’d finally open up and tell her the truth. There’d been too many half-truths and outright lies over the years, and she wanted that part of their life to change.

He stared out the window without responding, then turned and picked up the rag. Leaning over the old saddle, he scrubbed at the leather as though trying to restore it to its former self. “Guess I loved her, all right. When I told her I’d care for you, I done it because I fell for you hard. I never hoped for anything more from either of you than you both might love me.”

Leah’s heart took wing at the revelation. Her father had never been this forthcoming about his feelings or his past before. Ma had clearly stated she’d never been in love with Pa. She’d only ever loved Leah’s real father … the one Leah didn’t remember. She decided to change to a less painful question. “How did you meet Ma?”

He peered at her beneath hunkered brows. “Why all the questions, girl?”

She lifted a shoulder. “I suppose because I’ve never asked but always wondered. Neither of you talked about meeting or getting married. Did you know her long?”

“Your birth pa was a good friend. I used to come out here and help Aaron do chores. Got to know Mary before Aaron passed. Good man, a hard worker and steady, with a gentle heart. The kind of man your ma needed in her life.” He turned his head away.

Leah waited, praying he’d continue but hating to push. This might be all he’d share, and if so, that was all right. It was more than he’d ever been willing to say. She wanted to tell him he was kind too, had been when she was young, and that it was the drink that made him surly and mean. But this wasn’t the time.

He’d made a declaration that he wanted to change, and she’d stand beside him in his battle to stay sober. No, it was better to be silent and allow him to say as much or as little as he wanted for now.

He glanced back at her. “I thought a lot of her even then. I could tell it was hard on her, livin’ on this ranch and doin’ work she wasn’t used to. She and your pa met in the city and fell in love. He told me once he offered to move away from here, but she wouldn’t hear of it. His heart was in the land, and she loved him so much she promised to stay with him, help him become a success.”

He rested his weight on the pommel of the saddle and gave a sad smile. “I guess when your pa died, I thought I was helpin’ by offerin’ to marry her and give you a father. You were the prettiest little thing. Bushels of red hair even when you were a tyke, with bright eyes and a winsome smile that wrapped all the cowboys around your finger.”

Leah smiled at the picture he’d painted. “And Ma agreed to marry you? So soon after my father died?”

“I waited as long as I could—three months I think it were—but she was strugglin’ to boss the cowboys and get the work done. Buddy and Millie hadn’t come along yet, and Mary didn’t know the first thing about ranch work.” He shook his head. “I knew she didn’t love me, but I always hoped she’d learn to, one day. I saw how loyal she was to your pa, and I guess I thought …”

Leah winced at the pain that laced Pa’s words. He’d thought Ma would fall in love with him and want to stay on the ranch, be his helpmeet, the same as she’d promised to do for her first husband. But it never happened. Ma never fell in love with Charlie Pape, and the ranch became her prison. “I’m sorry, Pa. I never knew.”

He straightened and turned with a smile. “Guess it don’t matter now. She did two good things for me, that’s for sure and for certain.”

“What were they?” Leah returned the smile, happy he’d been able to pull away from his gloomy memories.

“She birthed Tom, and she let me keep you when she left. I made her swear she wouldn’t try to convince you to move to the city. If she was gonna leave me, she had to promise to give you a chance at happiness on the ranch you loved so much. I think she got to the point where she couldn’t abide the sight of me.”

He choked on the last word and coughed. “It woulda tore my heart out if she’d taken you away with her. It was hard enough when Tom decided to leave. I’m not sure what I’d a done if you’d left too.”

Leah wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a fierce hug, placing her lips close to his ear. “I love you, Pa.” She didn’t know what had softened her father’s heart so much, but whatever it was, she was grateful. And there was no way she’d say anything more about the ranch today. No, sir, she wouldn’t risk ruining this rare time of love and companionship for all the ranches in Oregon.