Before the Larkspur Blooms (31 page)

Jessie nodded. She remembered the day as if it were yesterday. It was the day after she’d turned thirteen, and for months all she’d prayed for was that God would send her mother back. As a birthday present. Jessie had been waiting so long, so many heartbreaking years. Before leaving her, her mother had promised she would be gone only a few days. But days turned into months and months into years. Still, Jessie begged God to let this birthday be different. But the day came and went, no different from other years. No fanfare, no cake, no mother.

“It was about four o’clock in the afternoon,” she whispered, not trusting her voice. “I finished my household chores and sat on the front porch steps watching people go by. The July heat was stifling. Flies were thick. Mrs. Hobbs, as she did every summer day, disappeared into her room until the cool of the evening. Mr. Hobbs was gone. I went around to the back of the house to get a drink from the well. When I returned there was a wicker basket on the porch by the front door. A newborn swaddled in a pretty pink blanket slept peacefully inside, unaware she’d just been given away.”

“So no papers were ever signed?” he asked.

“No.”

Chase slung his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. “I’m so sorry, Jessie. I know how much you love Sarah. We’ll get through this.” He practically choked on the words. “I promise.” He swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and buried his face in her hair.

“I’m sorry I didn’t share this with you, Chase. I told myself it was because you had the rustlers to worry about. I didn’t want to add to your burdens. But honestly, it was more. Once I told you, I’d have to face the fact that we might lose her. I couldn’t do that. I still don’t think I can.”

Chase leaned back. Still close, she could see the tiny brown-and-gold flecks in his eyes. The fine lines that time had etched on his face.
My beloved. My Chase.
He’d made it possible three years ago for her to keep Sarah; somehow, he’d do it again. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“You were only worried about Sarah.” He brushed a strand of hair across her forehead. “Just wish I knew if, or when, the people Mrs. Hobbs is talking about are going to show up here in Logan Meadows.” He paused and picked up the last letter. “Mr. and Mrs. Stockbridge. I feel like I need to get a plan together, but there is no plan to get. Facts are facts. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

T
hree days passed with no further attacks from the rustlers. Jake hefted the last sack of grain into the back of the wagon parked in front of Winston’s Feed, then wiped his hands down the sides of his pants. Glancing across the bridge and down the street, he contemplated the Bright Nugget, wondering how he was going to get out of the mess he’d created. He climbed into the box, took up the reins, and hauled the horses around. He started back up Main Street for the ranch.

Tonight was the night.

Tonight he’d ride out to the south fork of Shady Creek and meet Rome, explain that all he had now was twenty dollars. Somehow he’d get the remaining fifty-five dollars, plus the seven fifty interest. His guitar was worth five to a tenderfoot; there were more and more of ’em in town these days. Other than that, all he had of value was his horse and rig, but without those he wasn’t able to work.

Rome seemed a decent man, a bit of a braggart perhaps, but other than that, Jake felt sure he would work with him until he could repay what he owed. At least he hoped he would. However they worked it out, it still didn’t change the fact that he’d lost a heck of a lot of money. Hard lesson learned.

Discouraged, Jake swiped his hand across his moist brow and pulled the horses to the side of the road to give ample room to a
man driving several milk cows and a goat down the middle of the street.

“Jake,” a female voice called.

Daisy waved to him from the balcony of the Bright Nugget. Seeing her brought back a fresh rush of embarrassment. He forced a smile and waved back. Philomena stepped out beside her. The older girl saw him and then whispered something into Daisy’s ear.

“Jake,” she called again. “Can I talk with you?”

“Sure, Daisy. I’ll come in.”

Just as he set the wagon brake, Nell Page and Seth Cotton, brother and sister, trotted up the street on horseback. Nell pulled the reins and squeezed with her legs, fighting her good-looking paint every step of the way. The horse tossed his head and jumped sideways at people walking by. He shied at stationary objects, too, like hitching rails and chairs. He even jumped back at his own shadow. White foam dripped from his sides and from between his legs. Nell didn’t look all that much better.

“He
still
not broke, Nell?” Jake laughed. Seth pulled up. From his perch in the wagon, he was eye to eye with the two on horseback.

“Hush up, Jake,” Nell replied hotly. “I don’t need you pointing out his shortcomings. He’s high-strung.” The horse stood still for a full three seconds, his sides quivering and eyes wide, taking in one scary thing after the other. She reached down and patted his sweaty neck.

“What’s wrong with him? He should be plenty gentle by now. Is this his first trip to town?”

Seth rolled a toothpick between his teeth as he contemplated the horse next to him. “Nope, his fifth. His dam was exactly the same. Took me a good six months before she was safe for anyone to ride. Even then, you had to be on guard or she’d leave you in a
pile of dust. She turned out to be a great stock horse, though, and we’re hoping the same for this one.”

Jake glanced up, recalling his promise to go in and see Daisy. She was gone, but Philomena stood there, hands on hips, glaring down at him.

“Uh, ’scuse me.” Boot to wheel, he climbed down to the boardwalk. “I have some business in the Bright Nugget.”

Jake strode into the saloon. He didn’t see Daisy right away, but Dwight stood at the bar with two other fellows. His foot rested on the brass footrest, and his hat was tipped back.

“I’d bet money that Donovan is our man. He has a history of rustling. A dog can’t change his spots even if he tries.”

Jake hadn’t made it past third grade, but he knew slander was wrong. Dwight didn’t have any evidence on Thom. If he did, Albert would have arrested him already. It rankled to hear a good man talked about like that.
Don’t get involved. You’re in enough trouble already
, he reminded himself.
I don’t need Hoskins on my back, too.

Dwight’s friend shrugged. “Could be. Why would he come back here where everyone knows his past?”

“Maybe he thinks this town is easy pickings. So far, he’d be right about that. The Sunday the Triple T was hit—twice—the mick was nowhere to be found. I know because I was looking. I don’t trust him around women either. I caught him looking at—”

A flash of anger hit Jake like a freight train.
Ah, horsepucky. Why’d Dwight have to go and say that?

Dwight finished off his whiskey as he caught Jake coming toward him in the mirror’s reflection. “You got something to say—
Jake
?”

There it was. The insinuation that he didn’t have any name but his first. Same ole, same ole. Jake balled his fist. “Yeah, I got something to say, Deputy. You ought not go ruinin’ a man’s name just because you don’t like him.” They stood toe-to-toe. Dwight didn’t
scare him. “Thom Donovan was out at the ranch that particular Sunday you just mentioned—in a gunnysack race with Hannah Hoskins.” He paused, letting his words sink in. Everyone knew Dwight had been sweet on Hannah for a very long time. “They didn’t win, in case you’re wondering.”

The stench of Dwight’s heavy perspiration, mixed with whiskey, coiled thick in the air. His eyes narrowed dangerously when his two companions laughed.

Jake felt the corners of his mouth tip up. He couldn’t stop himself from driving the nail a bit deeper. “Offered to save me a trip into town by taking her home. Yep, I’d say a romance is blooming.”

Dwight lunged. The other men scattered. Disadvantaged by Dwight’s extra thirty pounds, Jake fell backward on the wooden floor with Hoskins on top. The deputy drove several painful punches into Jake’s face. Jake wrestled a hand free and socked Dwight’s side, knocking the wind from him. That gave Jake a moment to heft the lawman off and jump up. Dwight stood and grabbed the whiskey bottle he’d been drinking and smashed it against the bar, leaving long, wicked spikes on the bottom half. The lawman leaped forward. Jake reacted quickly, but a shard flew off the bottle and hit him on the lower edge of his eyebrow. He flinched.

The metal click of a shotgun brought them up short.

“That’s enough!” Kendall held his shotgun steady from behind the bar.

Jake dabbed the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, ignoring the sting above his eye.

Daisy ran up and grabbed his arm. “Come on, Jake, let me get that out.” A drop of blood dripped into his eye.

He set her away, unsure if Dwight was finished.

“Go on,” Dwight sneered. “Have your
saloon girl
fix you up. She don’t care if you’re a by-product of a wild night out on the town.”

A blast filled the room, hurting Jake’s ears. Little bits of the ceiling rained down on them. “I told you to shut up, Dwight. That star don’t give you the right to do anything you darn well please.”

Jake stepped forward, but Kendall leveled the gun on him. “When I said that’s enough, I meant it. Now, git, Jake.”

Jake didn’t want to let it go. The tinny taste of blood in his mouth fueled his anger. Dwight slurring Daisy’s name made him the maddest of all.

Philomena slid between him and Dwight, one finely plucked eyebrow arched in censure. She put her hand on Jake’s arm, and he had no choice but to follow. They went into the back room where Kendall kept the whiskey and Daisy waited. Without a word, Philomena backed out and closed the door with a click.

“Come over here.” Daisy’s voice was soft, reminding Jake of something pretty. Like butterfly wings in the spring. She guided him to a barrel on end, and he sat without saying a word. By now, his eye stung like a son of a gun, and he clenched it closed.

A tiny smile pulled at her lips.

“What’s so funny?”

“You look like a pirate,” she said, carefully plucking the shard of glass from beneath his eyebrow. She placed a piece of cloth over the wound. The light pressure felt good.

Sounds of men’s voices filtered through the thin wall. With a wet cloth she blotted away the drying blood, all the while ignoring his steady gaze.

“You’re a sweet girl, Daisy,” he said, unable to take his eyes from her face. She moved slowly, letting her fingers linger on his skin. “Anyone ever tell you that before?”

She shook her head. A dusty pink colored her cheeks.

“Well, that’s a shame because it’s true.”

“Hush, Jake. I need to clean you up. It’s been awhile since you’ve been in. I was getting worried.”

He tried not to let her statement please him, but it did. Much more than he’d like to admit. Compared to Dwight, Daisy smelled
nice, a sort of spice mixed with a maple-syrupy kind of smell. Took him back to the days he’d stay some nights at the old store in Valley Springs with Mrs. Hollyhock and she’d feed him pancakes in the morning and make him bathe. The memory made him smile.

“What?” She was smiling, too, as if she knew what he was thinking.

He shook his head. Suddenly he realized what he’d been needing those months ago when he’d first thought he was in love with Hannah. It wasn’t really Hannah he’d been longing for, but the approval her affection would mean to him. She was a person of high standing in the community. Her love would have been the proof he desperately sought that
he
was indeed someone. He stared down at the grimy, litter-strewn floor of the storeroom, struggling to grasp the understanding that thundered around inside him. Everything he’d ever needed was here, in this room, in Daisy’s eyes. He didn’t need anyone’s approval except his own.

Daisy’s unexpected stillness drew his attention. A worried frown replaced her smile, and her hands hung at her sides; the fire in her expressive green eyes almost misted over. She must have misunderstood his contemplation for rejection, because she turned and headed for the door.

“Wait.” The word came out with a needy rasp. Jake reached for her wrist and pulled her toward him and onto his lap.

“I’m a saloon girl, Jake. Probably always will be.” She placed a hand on his chest as she looked up into his face. Her gaze flicked to the wound under his eyebrow and then back to his eyes. The sorrow he saw there hurt deep in his heart.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He didn’t know himself what it was he wanted, except to feel her sweetness next to him. To hold her close. When her chin tipped up, he softly pressed his lips to hers.

The door banged open, and Jake pulled back. Kendall came in and stopped. Daisy jumped to her feet, and Jake followed.

“I wondered where you’d gone off to, Daisy.” His tone wasn’t angry. He gave Jake a look that said he’d just been caught raiding the cookie jar. The bartender took two bottles of whiskey off the top shelf.

“I was just doctoring him a little,” Daisy offered. “I’ll be out in a minute.”