Weathered Too Young (34 page)

“You
think I might could break in this saddle somehow, Uncle Slater?” Johnny asked then.

Slater winked at Lark.
“I do think so, Johnny,” Slater told him.
“If this weather clears up tomorrow, we’ll see which horse fits it best.
All right?”

“Yes, sir!” Johnny exclaimed.

Katherine squealed with delight then
and
rushed to Slater
,
throwing
her arms around his neck.

“Oh, Slater!” she cried, brushing tears from her cheeks.
“How did you ever…I can’t…oh, darlin’, thank you!”

Lark looked to see that Katherine held a large silver locket and chain in one hand.
She opened the locket
,
and for the first time Lark saw the image of John Thornquist.
Somehow—somewhere
—
Slater had found a photograph of John and had it put in the locket under glass.

Leaning forward, Lark quickly kissed Slater on the cheek.
“You really are Saint Nicholas
,
I think,” she whispered.



Late that night,
after
everyone else
had retired
, Lark propped herself up in bed, turned the flame in the lamp
a little
higher
,
and opened
her
new copy of
The Complete Works of Tennyson
. She
put her face near the book, inhaling the wonderful
aroma of
paper
and leather. She turned th
e cover page and smiled,
delicious warmth filling
her bosom when she saw an inscription.
There, sprawled in Slater’s nearly illegible handwriting
,
was:

Merry Christmas
, Lark
…

Slater

Lark touched the dried ink—the words written by Slater’s own hand.
She
smiled and began reading.

2

Though winter was cold and fierce, the vigor with which it shivered and blew proved too exhausting for it to linger long.
Yet winter had been merciless
,
having kept the children inside most every
day
from Christmas through late February
.
Lark and Katherine had been quite hard
-
pressed to find ways to keep them from whining
with boredom—e
specially Charlie.
Johnny was old enough to
often
help Slater and Tom with outdoor chores
or to ride
out
with the cowboys to check fences
and
repair windbreaks.
Lizzy was fairly content to practice her stitching,
to
draw, or
to
play with her dolls.
Yet Charlie—
Charlie was entirely too pent in
.
Forever racing through the house or finding his way to mischief, it was Charlie who suffered most from the brutal winter—however short-lived it was.

Still, even for all of Charlie’s bottled
-
up liveliness, he had begun to sleep through the night once more.
Katherine credited Lark’s quilt.
Slater did too
,
often expressing his gratitude to Lark—for he slept through the night again, as well.

Yet by mid
-
March, as most days were filled with contented rain or warm sunshine, it was Lark who had begun to sleep fitfully.
Christmas had been resplendent!
The exchange of thoughtful gifts had touched Lark’s heart as nothing she’d ever known.
Each night she read from one of the books Slater had gifted her
. E
ven after she’d read them both through from front to b
ack
,
she still read an excerpt or
two from one of them before drifting off to sleep.
She treasured the books—treasured his signature and inscript
ion to her inside them—treasured the lovely s
i
lver bookmark
he’d had her name engraved upon.
Still, as spring a
pproached, it was Christmas Eve
that lingered most vivid in Lark’s thoughts—Christmas Eve and Slater’s kiss beneath the mistletoe.

Slater had not moved to kiss her since—not once.
Oh, he was flirtatious enough
,
often
teasing h
er about one thing or the other,
but it seemed he no longer found her
attractive
in any regard.
Oh, certainly he was friendly—at least he was friendly when he wasn’t tired, brooding
,
or grumbling about the weather.
Friendly—but not too friendly.

For a time, Lark had determined it was the discomfort his shoulder afforded him each time the temperature would drop noticeably
that caused him to often seem distracted or lost in his own thoughts
.
When the frigid cold would set in, or when he’d been working out in the wind, his shoulder would begin to ache, thus turning his temperament to a less than jovial venue.
Lark found some comfort in knowing that the rice and herb pillow she made did seem to sooth
e
the ache in him.
It was several times she had the opportunity to study the scar at his left shoulder.
When first she’d seen it, she’d determined it may have been made by a knife or some such similar weapon.
However, one morning when he appeared in the kitchen
,
bare except for his trousers (having found his bureau lacking in underwear—indeed coming upon Lark in the very process of folding his freshly washed and dried drawers)
,
she’d noticed a smaller scar a
t
the front of his shoulder—a small, round-type scar.
Normally, Slater’s suspender straps would’ve hidden this scar
,
but since he wo
re no suspenders in that moment
,
the scar was easily visible.
Though she did not know a great deal about wounds, Lark knew enough to surmise that the scar on the front of Slater’s shoulder had been made by a bullet
,
while the terrible
flesh-tearing scar at the back
had been made by the same bullet as it had exited
h
is body.
Naturally, this discovery intrigued Lark—though something in her very soul whispered she should not inquire about it
. A
nd she didn’t.

Yes, friendly,
but not too friendly.
That was how Lark thought of Slater’s treatment of her.
He still worked and laughed with Tom—
s
at in the parlor with everyone in the evenings after
supper.
He still
played soldiers with Charlie, read picture books to Lizzy,
and
taught Johnny lessons in breeding and caring for cattle.
He conversed comfortably with Katherine, reminiscing about John or counseling her on matters of finance.
Still, with Lark he seemed almost indifferent at times.

Of course, Lark often wondered if it were merely she who had changed.
Did Slater really treat her so differently than he had before?
Other than not having kissed her in near to three months, she thought perhaps his behavior was not so altered where she was concerned.
She
thought it was simply the fact that she loved him—so desperately loved him—that caused her to think him indifferent.
Certainly he talked to her as often as he did the others.
Certainly he was kind and teasing.
Lark even inwardly recognized that he was kinder
and
friendlier than he had been when she’d first arrived.
Yet she’d hoped for more
. S
he’d dreamt of more—especially after having been kissed by him—so deliciously kissed by him.

Often, late at night when Lark found sleep entirely elusive, she would think on his words—on what he’d said the first time he’d kissed her—the first time he’d really kissed her.

Let’s quit dancin’ around it…just do it…and get it over with
, he
’d
said.
Then I’m sure we’ll both settle down…and get right back in the saddle of everyday livin’.

Could it be that Slater had gotten over it—whatever it was?
Could it be that he’d simply been curious—momentarily tempted by her youth and femininity—and
that kissing her once or twice
had satisfied his interest where Lark was concerned?
Or could it be what she’d feared from the moment he and Tom had received Katherine’s letter?
Could it be Slater still secreted deeper feelings for the sweetheart of his youth than anyone suspected?

In the dark of night, however, it didn’t matter what Slater’s reasons were for not kissing Lark again
;
it only mattered that he hadn’t.
Lark was in love with him!
She loved his playful nature—even his brooding one.
She loved the dark brown of his eyes
,
the tiny wrinkles at the corners of them—loved his strong, square jaw, his powerful hands
,
his rhythmic saunter.
Yet more than all that was handsome and attractive about hi
s face and form
,
she loved his wit, his tender heart where Kath
erine’s children were concerned,
his patience
,
and
his
intelligence.
Sometimes in the dark cold of night, Lark wondered if she could stay at the ranch—for being near to Slater without owning his admiration, affection
,
and love had begun to be quite painful and haunting.

Yet how could she leave him?
How could she find the strength to strip herself from his presence forever?
Furthermore, why would she do so?
She loved him
,
and she loved laboring in
service to
Slater and Tom—Katherine and the children.
Her life at the Evans ranch was more like living a life in the company of family than anything she’d ever known.
Even when her mother had still been living—even then their lives had not been so comfortable and safe
,
so warm and happy.
Why then would she leave?
Why leave comfort and a measure of happiness
,
a good wage
? W
hy would she leave?
Still, every time she found herself staring at Slater—her heart beating brutal
ly
inside her at the thought of his attention (or kiss)—she would wonder if she could stay
,
for she
longed for
Slater Evans to want her
. M
ore than anything she wanted him to want her—to love her.

Even for all her heartache and worry, however, Lark still knew happiness—and hope.
As early spring brought fresh air to breath
e
, yellow sunshine to warm,
crocus and hyacinth to sprouting in the flowerbeds around the house, life on the ranch began to brighten once more.
Calving had begun
,
and Lark delighted in seeing the new calves romping on the horizon as much as the children d
id.
They were warm and sweet
and smelled of milk and grass.

Charlie loved the new calves perhaps more than anyone.
One morning, he’d gone missing.
Lark and Katherine were nearly mad with worry by the time Slater found the boy out in the pasture, sitting in the new grass, talking to a calf he’d come to favor.

Yes, spring was lovely
,
and Lark could not bring herself to leave the ranch—to leave those she’d come to love—even for the desperate longing to own Slater’s favor that sometimes
threatened to overwhelm her.



Tom had taken Katherine and the children to town.
The weather was beautiful—especially for late March—and Tom had convinced Katherine that it would do the children good to have a change of surroundings for a while.
Lark didn’t want to go to town.
She’d begun hot ironing the parlor curtains and wanted to finish before supper.
Slater had chosen to stay behind
as well
,
being that
Outlaw had broken through a fence
while
trying to charge Black-Eyed Sue.
It seemed spring had rejuvenated the old
Hereford
bull, causing him to find the presence of Sue even more maddening than usual.
Outlaw didn’t bother too much with Little Joe, Slater’s other
Hereford
bull.
Slater claimed it was the fact that Sue had matured so quickly over the winter
months
,
and now that he was more than two years
,
and big even then, Sue
looked far more mena
cing than he had in late summer.
Furthermore, Pete Walker had driven in Slater’s Black Angus heifers
.
Slater figured Outlaw didn’t like the fact that there were five new heifers on the ranch now that Black
-Eyed Sue had exclusive bids on—
that Outlaw didn’t.
Outlaw was “feeling his age
,
” as Slater put it—adding that he understood how the poor fellow felt.

So it was that Lark was at the house alone.
Oddly, she found the quiet and solitude very soothing.
With the children so often trapped in the house over the winter, Lark’s ears had begun to ri
ng with the sound of their play
or whining.
Now she was able to think as she ironed the parlor curtains—to think or to hum to herself a bit.

All the morning long she put the hot iron to the curtains.
When she had finally finished (thankfully much earlier in the day than she’d anticipated)
,
Lark decided to allow herself a moment of fresh air.
Slater hadn’t come home for a noon meal, and she assumed he’d chosen to simply eat jerky with Eldon and the others.

Stepping out onto the back porch, Lark smiled.
Spring was lovely!
She glanced over the side of the porch to see that several tiny crocuses had begun to bloom.
The sight of their
deep purples and bright yellows
cheered her very soul
,
and she smiled.

She heard a whinny and looked up to see that Dolly and Coaly had been let into the corral for some fresh air and the chance to run and play.
Dolly nodded at her, stomping the ground and whinnying once more.