Before the Larkspur Blooms (19 page)

With pitchfork in hand, Thom set about to strip Bertie’s stall, reminding himself with each hefty, urine-soaked forkful that he was grateful to have this job. Hannah sitting on the bench popped into his head.
Nope, not going there.

“He has a small crack on the outside of his right front hoof, due, I think, to improper shoeing.” Win’s powerful voice was hard to miss coming from the forge. “It’s not bad enough to cause the lameness, though. Must be a stone bruise. Some time off it will do him a world of good.”

“I know you can’t work miracles, Preston. I tried to get him to you sooner but I’ve been busy. I hope I haven’t made things worse.”

The pitchfork froze midair.
Rome Littleton!
Thom hadn’t seen him around since his first day in town and had assumed the rustler had ridden on.

No fighting.
The doctor’s words reminded Thom why he couldn’t take Rome on here and now. The fact that Thom had to avoid giving Rome what he deserved produced a tangible fury. He’d been fortunate there had been no complications three days ago when he’d been yanked from his horse and then punched in the face. Thom didn’t want to test Lady Luck too often.

Win came through the breezeway, leading a seal-brown gelding to the back of the barn. He quickly removed the animal’s bridle and haltered him, then tied him to the hitching rail. It took less than a minute to strip off his saddle and put it in the tack room. On his way through, he paused at the stall door where Thom worked. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“Win.” Thom stopped and stuck the pitchfork into the straw-covered floor of the stall, trying to mask his irritation. He liked Win. Owed him a lot.

Win’s astute eyes remained on Thom’s face. “Something wrong?”

Thom hated to mislead Win. For one, it was wrong. Two, his boss had been a friend when he needed one most. Nevertheless, what was in the past was going to have to stay there. If he fingered Rome for his part in the rustling all those years ago, it was the word of an ex-convict rustler against, most likely, one of a trusted ranch hand or owner. Thom didn’t know what Rome’s standing was in the community. Many years had passed. Anything was possible. Who did Thom have to vouch for him?
No one.
He’d do well to remember that when his Irish temper called for vengeance.

“Not a thing.”

“How’d it go up on the hill? At the cemetery?” Win’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously.
Probably sees my red eyes.
“You all right?”

“Had to face it. It’s still difficult for me to believe.”

The older man nodded in understanding. “Will be for some time to come, I’m sure. You let me know if there’s anything I can
do to help.” With a quick pat on Thom’s arm, he left the smithy and Thom to his thoughts.

“I don’t know about you, Sarah,” Jessie said, hefting Shane to the opposite side of her lap so Gabe could help her down from the buggy. They’d reined up in front of the Red Rooster Inn. “I’m getting tired. Good thing this is our last stop.” Sarah slumped against her side, all but worn out.

With the bedraggled group on the ground, Gabe carefully lifted the chocolate cake from behind the seat. They started for the door, but a large long-haired dog jumped up and began barking, stopping them in their tracks.

“Hush, you hairy beast!” Mrs. Hollyhock scolded, stomping out of the inn to grab the dog by the collar. She shook her finger in his face. Turning, her eyes lit with pleasure and her lips tipped up.

“Jessie! Gabe! Sarah! Oh, and little Shane, too.”

Jessie held them back.

“Come in, come in,” she said, looking around expectantly. “Where’s that husband of yours, Jessie? He run off yet?” Mrs. Hollyhock muscled the animal back, which, now up closer, Jessie saw was old and gray. Eyes a bit rheumy. They tromped up the stairs and went inside. Truth be told, the older woman loved Chase almost as much as Jessie did, but she’d never admit to such a thing. The table was set and dinner simmered on the old woodstove, filling the room with a hearty goodness. Gabe discreetly set the cake on the table.

“Whose dog is that?” Sarah asked, inching toward the animal standing in the doorway. His tail wagged back and forth as if waiting for an invitation to enter. “Look, Mommy!” she added, the smile in her voice infectious. “He’s grinning at me.”

“Ivan belongs ta my new houseguest, Thom Donovan. It was his ma and pa’s out at the old ranch.”

Gabe nodded. “That’s right. I’ve seen that dog around a time or two, now that you mention it. Twice running through the meadow past town.”

“Thom said that’s ’cause Hannah took him home a couple o’ times after Katherine—God rest her soul—passed on. Wanted to give ’im a home. Keep ’im fed. But the beast kept runnin’ back to the ranch. Sort of makes my heart hurt if I think about it too long.”

“Can I pet him?” Sarah loved animals. Any animal, it didn’t matter.

“Go on—he won’t bite you.”

Everyone turned at the deep voice that came from just outside on the porch. The man came up to the doorway, and the dog sat by his feet. “Don’t be shy. Ivan likes little girls.”

Emboldened, Sarah went forward and rubbed the animal on the head, looking back at Jessie. “He’s nice.” Shane reached out his arms wanting to go to the dog, but Jessie held him close.

Maude hadn’t exaggerated. Thom Donovan was incredibly handsome, with his thick, wavy brown hair and piercing toffee-colored eyes. Jessie felt her cheeks heat up, and she glanced away. She hoped her discomfort wouldn’t be noticeable to anyone else. There was indecision written in his eyes.

“Thom,” Mrs. Hollyhock said. “Come on in and meet some of Logan Meadow’s finest citizens.”

“I’d like to, Violet, but I’m not fit for company. Been working in the sun, then cleaning stalls.”

He leaned in the door and looked at the old grandmother clock hanging above the fireplace. “I have exactly fifteen minutes to get a quick bath and get back here before suppertime.” He gave Mrs. Hollyhock a wink. “I don’t want to make my hostess angry.”

Sarah ran her hand down the dog’s back and came around Thom, already completely comfortable in Thom’s presence. She
looked over at the table set for supper. “Who’s coming to dinner, Grammy?”

Sarah was putting her math skills to good use, but Jessie wished she hadn’t asked Violet that question now.

The smile slid from Mrs. Hollyhock’s face. “It’s just Thom and me, honeybee.”

“But you and him”—she pointed with her chin—“make two. I count three plates. See?” She ran over to the table and proudly counted aloud for everyone to hear.

Mrs. Hollyhock looked bemused for a moment, then went over and rested her gnarled hands on Sarah’s shoulders. “Well,” she began. “The third plate is for my boy. Remember I told ya one time that he went away but I think he’s comin’ back? Well, if I’m right and he does, I want him to feel welcome. I want him to know I’ve missed havin’ ’im here with me.” Her voice nearly cracked. “What’s this?” she asked, looking at the cake. Jessie was sure it was her way of changing the subject.

“Your birthday present,” Jessie said quickly. She blinked away the moisture that had gathered in her eyes. “From all of us. I’m sorry it’s late.”

“Oh, honey. You shouldn’t have gone ta all that trouble for me. I mean that.”

“Happy birthday,” Gabe added, taking the cover off the keep so she could see it.

“Would you just look at that? It’s the finest cake I ever did see. Would you all like a piece?”

“No,” Jessie said. “It’s for you. And Thom. We have to get home and get supper on the stove for Chase.”

Thom was backing away. She had only a few moments to extend their invitation. Shane was squirming in her arms and he was going to erupt at any time. “Mr. Donovan,” she began. “My husband and I would like to invite you out to the ranch for a picnic after church this Sunday. You, too, Violet. It’s been much too long since we’ve spent the day under the cottonwoods.”

Thom’s foot rested on the second step, the large black-and-tan dog by his side. He glanced around at all the faces, coming back to hers.

“You’re welcome to bring Ivan,” Jessie added.

“I’d like that very much, thank you, Mrs. Logan.”

“It’s Jessie. You can call me that.”

His concerned glance at Mrs. Hollyhock only endeared him to her even more. “You’ll show me the way?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Hollyhock said.

Thom nodded. “Fine. I’ll get the buggy from Win.”

After supper Thom lay on his bed, the letter addressed to his mother sitting beside him. Poor Mrs. Hollyhock. Her pain was so evident. All this time, waiting for her son to come home. Not knowing where he was. If he was dead or alive.
Is that what I put you through, Ma?
he thought with shame.

Ivan, next to his bed, heaved a long sigh and collapsed to his side. Thom picked up the post a third time and looked at it. The return address was from Shannon O’Hays, his mother’s cousin. He opened it.

My dearest Katherine,
it began.
I think of you often. If only we didn’t have this wide ocean between us. Remember when we were wee girls and planned to marry a set of handsome brothers? Live side by side. Raise our children together. Share Sunday suppers and rock each other’s grandbabies. It’s been so long since I’ve heard from you. I know it must be hard now with Loughlan gone and worrying over Thom. I can’t complain too much, though. I haven’t written often enough either. The rheumatism in my hand makes holding a quill very difficult.

My daughter Maggie has completed her studies in Dublin. If you remember, she and Thom were born on the same blessed day.
Times are changing so fast. You and I would never have considered leaving our homes as Maggie did, to further her education. She’s a sassy one, to be sure. And much braver than I’ve ever been. And she’s a bit too determined for her own good. I fear there isn’t a man here, or in America, bold enough to take her on.

Thom threw his arm over his eyes, remembering how animated his mother would become whenever she’d remind him about his Irish-born female cousin and the fact they shared the same birthday.

Thom forced himself to read on, ignoring the pit of loss that burned in his belly.

Well, I must go now. There are chores to be done. Write me when you are able. Always know you and yours are in my daily prayers.

Your loving cousin, Shannon

Thom folded the correspondence and carefully tucked it back into the envelope. His mother had had dreams of her own. Young. In love. Ready to set the world on fire. He let the envelope fall to his side, suddenly aware of something he’d never considered. He did have family. Family besides his sister Anne Marie. Ireland. Of course, he had Hannah, too, and Markus, in his heart. What more could a man want?

A
lbert reclined in his chair as Chase paced back and forth in front of the sheriff’s desk, feeling like a caged mountain lion. Rustlers, again! His spread and the neighboring ranch. Despite the extra men he’d hired on.

“What is it exactly you want me to do, Chase? It’s Saturday. Town’s busier than I’ve seen it for a long time. I can’t go door to door looking for a smoking branding iron. I promise you, I’m on it. We’ll catch ’em. But these things take time.”