Whispers of Moonlight (4 page)

"Oh, all right. Are there other homes around?"

"No," Travis answered, amazed that she didn't know. "The ranch sits on acres of open range." As he told her this, his heart grew troubled. From the way
Lavena had talked, father and daughter were in constant communication.

He fell silent, and it was some time before he glanced at his passenger. She was literally drooping in the seat. Travis slowed the horse just slightly, bringing the reins to one hand and putting the other hand on her arm.

"Lean back. Miss Rebecca, and get comfortable. We have a way to go."

She turned vague eyes to him.

"Put your head back," he instructed her. A moment later she turned slightly toward him, her left cheek against the leather seatback. They hadn't gone 100 yards before her face bounced forward and her forehead lay against his arm. Travis kept the horse's pace slow and steady. He knew Mr. Wagner would be having apoplexy, but right now he had a lovely passenger to see to, and Travis refused to do anything that would disturb her. He also had no trouble admitting to himself that the feel of her against him, even just her forehead, was much too wonderful for words.

"Miss Rebecca," Travis called very softly as the house came into view. "Rebecca," he tried again. She stirred, dislodging the hat completely to tumble at her feet. Travis' face was turned to her, the horse well-knowing the way home, and he watched as she looked up into his eyes and blinked slowly. He was very aware of the way her shoulder leaned against his arm, but Rebecca had only just noticed. Her face red, she pushed upright and looked at the road and beyond. Travis heard her gasp.

The ranch house at the Double Star was a sight to see. They were within 100 yards now, and the lovely home seemed to rise up abruptly out of the prairie. It was painted white, two stories high with an attic, and grand to any eye.

A deep porch with round wooden pillars stretched across the entire front of the house and wrapped around the east side. A large balcony extended from the second floor, and Rebecca instinctively knew this would be off her father's bedroom. The roofline was punctuated by several gables. The roof itself was finished in cedar shakes. Her father's love for the mountains was evident in the large windows that rose from seemingly every room, both upstairs and down.

"This is my father's home?" she questioned softly.

"Yes. This is the Double Star ranch house."

The bunkhouse, cook's shack, and mess hall were all in sight as well, but Rebecca didn't focus on them. She was silent as she tried to take in both the setting at the base of the mountains and the home itself. She kept thinking of the house she'd been raised in in Philadelphia with its small rooms and damp smell; the home that her Aunt Hannah had seldom left in the last years; the one that had made her feel suffocated and ready to flee the moment she found her father's letters.

"It's him," Rebecca breathed. Travis watched as she leaned forward in the seat.

Indeed, Andrew had come onto the porch and was now making his way down the steps. Travis found himself petitioning God, or whoever was in charge, that the man would not die of heart failure before his daughter's eyes.

"Oh, Papa," he heard her whisper, and even though they were far off, he stopped the buggy and let her dismount. Tears he no longer believed himself capable of clogged in the back of his throat as Rebecca ran and was swept into her father's embrace. Travis made himself drive the buggy past them toward the barn. He was certain they would want some time alone.

"Oh, Papa; oh, Papa," was all Rebecca could say for the first five minutes. Andrew had his arm around her, leading her up the steps and into the beautiful home, but she could
see only her father's face. He looked old, so much older than she remembered, but it was still him. It was still the Papa she'd adored as a child, and in just a moment of looking into his eyes, she knew that her aunt's words had all been lies.

"Are you all right?" Andrew was asking, his hands on her arms. "Was the trip awful? Did anyone hurt you?"

"No, no. I'm fine. I was on the train for most of the journey. It broke down a few times, but no one bothered me." She smiled suddenly. "The stage was a bit rough."

Andrew hugged her again and took her hand to lead her into his study. He shut the door and turned to watch as she glanced around the room and then moved to look out the window. Andrew sat on the long leather sofa. Rebecca turned from the glass immediately, a thousand questions coming to mind.

"I waited for you," she said softly, the light to her back. "I waited so long."

Andrew's hand came to his forehead in a gesture of weariness. It hadn't occurred to him that she would want to talk of this right
away, but he was more than happy to clear the air. He shook his head a moment. Where to begin?

"I've
made mistakes, Reba, dozens of them." Andrew's eyes focused on the dark rug. "But none can compare to leaving you with Hannah and Franklin. Hannah tried to tell me about the outbreak of war, but I wouldn't listen. She said we would be cut off, but I said I had to go."

He looked at his daughter. "I'm sorry, Reba. I never meant for it to be this way. A man should have his child with him, and a little girl should have her papa. I've let you down."

Rebecca went
to sit beside him, her hand going to his arm. "It's not all your fault," she told him. "Aunt Hannah's not right, Papa. She doesn't think like the rest of us."

Andrew nodded.

"I'm to blame as well," Rebecca admitted in a soft voice.

Andrew's eyes narrowed, and the young woman could see that he was ready to deny it. She cut him off.

"I am, Papa. I've been living in a dream world. Hannah rarely leaves the house anymore, but she was out the afternoon your letter arrived." Tears filled the young woman's eyes. "Up until then I had no idea. I—"

"What is it, Reba?" Andrew urged her gently. "You can tell me."

"Your letters," she whispered. "I never saw them." She shook her head, so overcome that she couldn't go on. Andrew put an arm around her, his heart and mind trying to deal with what she meant.

How could she have not seen his letters? She always replied to his questions. Had Hannah read them to her? He had a hard time imagining that. After all she was 19 years old. Surely his sister wouldn't . . . Andrew's thoughts halted. He'd known from her letters that Hannah was not doing well emotionally, and Rebecca had already said as much. The familiar ache came to the region of his chest, and he felt his body sweat. He looked down at his daughter, aching to ask more questions in order to have answers to put his heart at rest. However, the fatigue he saw in her eyes stopped him short.

"How about some supper and then bed? Are you hungry?"

Rebecca smiled at his rescue, but she couldn't help but see the perspiration beading on his forehead and upper Up. Her smile slowly died.

"You're not well. The letter didn't say that, but I know it."

"I'm not as strong as I once was," he admitted, not wanting to talk of his health, "but you're here now, and everything is going to be fine."

Rebecca was not convinced, but she wanted it to be true. Willingly she stood with him and started toward the door at his side.

"Travis usually eats supper with me," Andrew mentioned, "but tonight it can be just us."

"Travis Buchanan?" Rebecca questioned, and something in her voice made him look at her.

"Yes, Travis Buchanan." Andrew said lightly. "He's acting as temporary foreman for me right now." Andrew's voice grew elaborate. "He won't mind eating with the other hands tonight."

Rebecca bit her lip. "I don't mind if you'd like him to eat with us."

They were at the foot of the stairs when Andrew stopped, his gaze tender on her face.

"I take it you didn't leave your heart in Philadelphia?"

Rebecca shook her head.

"What about Marcus from the war?"

"We were just friends."

Andrew continued to look at her. It hadn't been hard to imagine that his pretty little daughter would turn into a lovely young woman, but finally seeing her had done him a world of good. He was not a large man, and Rebecca's mother had been petite, so it was easy to see why she was not very big herself. However, her slim figure still possessed very womanly curves. It passed through his mind to wonder if Travis had been as taken with her as she seemed to be with him.

"You're here now, and we'll have lots of time to be alone together," Andrew replied.

Rebecca smiled and nodded.

"I'll make sure he knows he's welcome," Andrew added. He could see he'd done the right thing when she bit her lip again.

Travis ate his meal from pure habit. He had no idea what was on his plate, or how it tasted. Rebecca had changed from the blue traveling suit to a dress of sunny yellow with white bands on the sleeves, bodice, and neckline. It made her light blonde hair come alive as it lay on her shoulders, and Travis, already captivated, was utterly smitten.

All he'd wanted to do was find a place for the winter. All he'd wanted was to walk away from the pain of the past, but then Rebecca had turned those
brown eyes to look at him in front of the stage office that afternoon. Could it have been only a few hours ago?

"I've begun to think that Grady is never coming back," Andrew was saying with no real worry in his voice. "I got word that he gained a good price for the beef, but if I didn't know better I'd say he skipped town with my gold."

"I hope he's not hurt," Rebecca commented. "Is there any way to check?"

Andrew and Travis exchanged a glance and smiled.

"Only if I send Travis out on the trail to look for him." Andrew's voice held a note of laughter. "And something tells me he'd rather not do that right now."

Travis smiled but dropped his eyes. It was true. The last thing he wanted to do was leave, unless of course Rebecca could go with him. The thought made him smile again, and at that moment he looked up to find her eyes on him. She smiled shyly in return and then dropped her own eyes. Neither of the young people was aware that Andrew had sat back in his chair with a contented sigh.