Weathered Too Young (9 page)

“Ol’ Mrs. Simpson used to stay home by her lonesome all the time,” Eldon reminded.
“Seems to me I remember she liked it that way.
Women need time to themselves, after all.”

“And yer such a wise man where women are concerned?” Tom teased.
He chuckled a moment
and
then said, “I suppose we could ask her if she’d mind
bein’ here alone for a time.”

“Oh, she’d never tell us the truth if she did.
I have a hell of a time tryin’ to figure what that girl is thinkin’,” Slater mumbled.
It was true too.
More often than not, Lark Lawrence was determined not to let on what her thoughts were.
Slater found the fact both intriguing and frustrating.

“I suppose that’s what makes her so interestin’,” Eldon said.
“I swear ol’ Chet’s knees go to water whenever he gets sight of her.”

“Well, if we’re goin’…we probably oughta tell her before she starts supper,” Slater said.
“You go on in, Tom,” he said, brushing his hands.
“I’ll get these horses stabled.”



Lark lingered at the window in the small room at the back of the house.
She’d been watching Slater and Tom curry Dolly and Coaly.
She didn’t quite know why she’d lingered in watching them
,
for she couldn’t hear their conversation.
Still, she often found comfort in just quietly observing them.
Lark surmised that it gave her comfort to know they were nearby—that it instilled a long-absent sense of safety in her subconscious.

Eldon Pickering had joined them.
He was a pleasant man.
Tall
,
good-looking
,
with tawny hair and blue eyes—kind too.
The other cowboys on the ranch were polite as well
,
though something about Chet Leigh unsettled Lark a bit—made her glad the cowboys ate, slept
,
and played cards in the bunkhouse behind the barn instead of in the ranch house with Slater and Tom.

Lark gasped as she saw Tom start toward the house.
Dropping the curtain she’d been holding back as she’d watched them, she hurried to the kitchen.
She was late with starting supper and worried that Tom was on his way in to inquire as to what she planned to prepare.
Oh, Tom never got angry—not that Lark could see—but she didn’t want to serve supper late all the same.

“Hey there, darlin’,” Tom greeted as he entered the house.
He was smiling—Tom was always smiling
,
and Lark loved him for it.
Over the past few weeks, Lark had come to care very deeply for him.
He was kind to her
,
his countenance always pleasant.
She often thought she couldn’t have loved a brother more than she loved Tom Evans
,
if she’d had a brother.

“Hello, Tom,” she greeted in
return, a
smile of delight spreading across her face to accompany the instant sense of security washing over her.
“I was just starting supper
.
I hope you’re not too angry with me for not having it on the table yet.”

Tom chuckled as he strode to her.
“Not at all, honey,” he said.
“In fact, me and ol’ Slater was thinkin’ about goin’ to town with the boys tonight.
I guess ol’ Tillman Pratt has a new actress singin’ at the drama house.
We’ll just scrounge us up some stew or somethin’ there…that way you don’t have to cook for nobody but
yourself.”
He
smiled, his
brown eyes rather merry with anticipation.

“So…a pretty actress, is it?” Lark teased.
She felt little like teasing, in truth.
The fact was
that
the idea of being at the ranch house alone troubled her.
She inwardly scolded herself for such feminine weakness.
After all, she’d been on her own for a long, long time—been alone for longer.
She also scolded herself for the thick lump of jealousy rising in her throat.
A pretty actress?
An unsettling thought crossed her mind—a thought that she didn’t like the idea of Slater Evans being in the company of a pretty actress.
Still, she buried the ridiculous notion of jealousy where either of the Evans brothers was concerned.

“That’s what Eldon says,” Tom answered.
“She’s supposed to be right pretty and sings like a bird.
You know how Slater likes nice singin’.”

“No…I didn’t know that he did,” Lark
admitted, the
anxious, albeit ridiculous heat of jealousy rising in her again.

“Yep.
Our mama was a singer…had the voice of an angel,” Tom explained.
“I suppose that’s why Slater has always been partial to fillies who can sing a pretty song.”

“Oh
. W
ell…well then
,
I’m sure the two of you are bound to enjoy your evening,” Lark said.

Tom’s eyes narrowed with sudden suspicion.
Ah ha!
At last!
He and Slater had both been downright frustrated at their inability to read the thoughts and feelings of their little housekeeper
,
but the fog was lifting
,
and Tom was watchful.
Lark was uncomfortable
. H
e could see it in her eyes—the way the sparkle in them dimmed suddenly.
He also read it in the
way
she cast her gaze from him momentarily
and by the sudden deepening of the pink in her pretty cheeks.

“If ya don’t want to be here alone, then one of us
would be
more than willin’ to stay home with ya, honey,” he offered—for at first he thought she was simply uncomfortable about being left behind.

“Oh no!
No, no, no,” she assured him, smiling and tucking a loose strand of hair behind one ear.
“You all go on…have fun.
I could use an evening by myself.
I’ve so been wanting some quiet moments to read…if that’s all right with you, I mean.
Would it be all right if I read one of the books from the shelves in the parlor?”

“Of course, darlin’,” Tom chuckled.
“You can read anything you want in there.”

“Well, then…I’ll delight in an evening by myself,” she said, smiling.

Tom studied her a moment, however.
She was rattled—indeed she was.

“You and Slater go on and have a lovely time,” she added.
“Maybe the two of you will even get to meet that pretty actress.
Oh, you two certainly deserve an evening of entertainment and respite.
And what could be more entertaining than a pretty actress with the voice of bird?
I’m sure Slater’s bound to be smitten with her.”

Tom grinned as full understanding washed over him
. S
he was jealous!
Lark was jealous of the actress in town—jealous of the possibility that the actress might win Slater’s admiration.

“Smitten?” he asked, having decided to further press Lark into revealing her feelings.
“Slater don’t get smitten with nobody.”

“Oh, everybody is smitten at one time or another,” Lark said, waving a hand in a gesture of indifference.
“Even Slater.”

“Nope,” Tom said as the imp in his playful nature perked.
“Slater gets to wantin’ after a woman somethin’ powerful now and then…but he never gets smitten.”
It was all he could do to keep from bursting into
laughter, for
instantly Lark’s eyes widened.

“Well…well
,
I…” Lark stammered.
“I…I wouldn’t know about such things as wanting after a wom
a
n, as you phrase it.”

Immediately, Tom was guilt-ridden.
He shouldn’t tease her about such things—not when it was apparent Slater had somehow managed to unknowingly weasel his way into her heart.
Tom wasn’t at all surprised, however.
He’d always suspected Lark’s discomfort in his brother’s presence had more to do with the strange ability Slater had to attract women than it did with his often brooding and cantankerous demeanor.
Tom knew he likewise owned a certain something that drew women to him.
Yet it seemed where Lark Lawrence was concerned, Slater had prevailed.

“Oh, I’m just teasin’ ya, honey,” he said, taking one of her hands in his and kissing the back repentantly.
“I’m sure ol’ Slater gets as smitten as every other feller.” The imp in his nature was not yet
squelched,
however, and he added, “Could be you’re right and the pretty little songbird at Pratt’s will be the one to do it.”

“It could be,” she
mumbled, and
he didn’t miss the worry on her brow.

“But more than likely…it’ll be me that finds himself smitten,” he added in an effort to comfort her where Slater was concerned.
“Actresses are more my type of wom
e
n then Slater’s
,
I would think.”

Lark seemed somewhat encouraged and smiled at
him.
“Well
, whether or not one of you is smitten with Mr. Pratt’s pretty new songbird…I hope you enjoy your evening,” she told
him.

He
guessed her friendly smile was a little more forced than usual and silently scolded himself for teasing
her.

“Goodness
knows the two of you deserve some relaxation.”

“Oh, you’re far too good to us, Lark,” Tom told her.
“You just be sure and enjoy yer time to yerself.”

“I will,” she said.
“I’ll just read a book…and be warm.”

Tom felt his brow pucker a
little, for
it seemed an odd thing to say.

“Now you better change your shirt if you’re going to town,” Lark told him.
She reached up, brushing a smudge of dirt from his forehead.
“You’ll want to look your best for Mr. Pratt’s new actress.”

As Tom nodded and headed up the stairs to his bedroom, Lark tried to swallow the lump of insecurity and jealousy settling in her throat.
The Evans brothers did deserve a night of entertainment and distraction.
Furthermore, if she regarded it from another perspective, she probably would enjoy an evening of reading by the fire.

It was true, Lark liked to keep busy.
Keeping busy kept her tired out—kept her mind from wandering to ridiculous musings.
It kept her from worrying about the fact that the weather was cooling—that winter was on its way.
So, since arriving at the Evans ranch more than a month before, she had kept busy—as busy as she possibly could.
The truth was she’d nearly worn her fingers to the bone with keeping busy.
Consequently, she was almost afraid to be left alone in the ranch house.
Not because she was fearful of anything about the house—just that she knew her irrational inner fears would attempt to surface
and
try to whisper doubt and uncertainty to her mind.

Still, she wouldn’t let it—no!
She would build a nice fire in the parlor hearth, choose a book from the shelves, settle in the comfortable chair nearby, and read.
She’d read all night if she chose to!
It had been so long since she’d had time to read—since she’d had a book available to read from.
Truly it would be a wonderful evening—or so her mind tried to convince her.

Lark startled as Slater entered through the front door.

“You’ll be all right here alone?” he asked.

Lark forced a smile. “Of course,” she told
him, trying
to stop the fluttering that began in her bosom at the sight of him.
“It will be very soothing to have an evening of quiet.”

As he strode nearer to her, however, she was unable to stop the wild fluttering that erupted in both her bosom and her stomach.
Silently she scolded herself
,
disgusted with the reaction her body experienced each time Slater was near.
She’d thought surely by now he would cease in affecting her so.
Over the past several weeks, Lark’s attraction to Slater Evans had multiplied with each passing hour
,
it seemed.
Still, she was far too practical a woman to pay heed to such things—or so she tried to convince herself.
Furthermore, it rather vexed her at times that it should be Slater who caused her heart to beat so quickly
,
for Tom was the congenial one—the calm, charming
,
and friendly one.
At times Slater seemed near
ly
as cold and unfeeling as an old river rock.
Yet Lark had grown to suspect this was a mask he sometimes wore
,
for often she would enter a room to find him and Tom erupting with laughter or discussing some melancholy sentiment.