“Dee shared those postcards you sent her,” Houston said. “You did a lot of traveling.”
“For a while. I was trying to figure out where to settle.”
“And in the end, you came back here. Just like Austin. He traveled the world playing his violin for folks, but when it came right down to it, he didn’t find anyplace he liked better.”
“Not quite true,” Austin said. “I didn’t find any people I like better. There’s something comforting about being in the bosom of your family.” He looked around, motioned with his hand. “And I wanted my sons to grow up with this. You, Dallas, and I—we only had each other. Now look at us.”
The room was filled with conversation, laughter, hugs, and smiles.
“What are y’all jawing about?” Dallas asked as he joined them.
“Family,” Austin said. “And Rawley was about to tell us about cowboying in Wyoming.”
“Cowboying is cowboying,” Rawley said.
“Everything go all right out on the range today?” Dallas asked.
“Yep.” He grinned at the man who had raised him. “Although Faith told me if you asked, that was supposed to be my answer no matter what trouble we ran into.”
“Did you run into trouble?” His voice held worry and concern, and Rawley figured it was difficult to let go of something when you’d spent the better part of your life building it.
“Everything was fine. A bit of fence needed repairing, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”
“It drives me crazy to sit here all day not knowing exactly what’s going on,” he grumbled.
“It drives you crazy that you can’t beat Callie at checkers,” Faith said, slipping her arm through her father’s.
She wasn’t wearing the red dress, thank God. The pink froth tucked in at her waist, and the bodice wasn’t cut low enough to reveal much of anything. Her shoulders weren’t bare, but the sleeves were so small he wondered why the seamstress had bothered. Decked out as she was, she reminded him of a spun sugar concoction known as fairy floss that he’d tasted at the World’s Fair in St. Louis. It had melted in his mouth, and he wondered if he could make her melt. He was certainly tempted to try.
“That little darling beat me five times,” Dallas muttered.
Faith laughed. “She told me.” She held out her hand, fingers splayed. “Five times!”
So she had been delayed because she’d spent some time visiting with her daughter. She was a good mother, and he reckoned she’d give the same love and attention to all her children. Not that he was surprised. She excelled at anything she tried, which made her decision to give up on the oil a bit confounding. He’d have bet money she’d have ensured it was a success simply to spite Berringer.
“Uncle Houston,” she said, giving him a peck on the cheek. Then she released her hold on Dallas and moved around him to give Austin a kiss. “Uncle Austin.”
“Doesn’t Rawley get a kiss?” Austin asked, and her gaze slammed into Rawley’s. “It might ease the hurt of that bruise you gave him.”
Rawley was torn between laughing loudly, brushing it all off as a joke, and stepping nearer so she wouldn’t have far to travel and could get to him sooner.
Her eyes never leaving Rawley’s, she said, “I reckon since tonight is about welcoming him home, I ought to be a little forgiving and do it proper.”
His heart was pounding so hard it was as though she were issuing an invitation to her bed. What should have taken seconds seemed to take hours as she skirted around Austin and leaned in, a light-as-a-moonbeam brush of her lips glancing over his cheek. As brief and feathery as it was, it somehow seemed to have more power than the one they’d shared outside his cabin. Maybe because this time she wasn’t drunk and he wasn’t thinking she was too young or innocent for one such as he.
When she leaned back, she smiled, the type of smile one dear friend gave another when they were sharing something special. And in that smile, he saw the potential for happiness.
When he had the house built, her father had anticipated having a large family so the long, white-linen-covered table stretched the length of the room and provided ample room for everyone. Her father was seated at one end, her mother to his left, near his heart. Faith sat to his right. Rawley occupied the chair beside their mother.
Uncle Houston had taken the one at the other end, Aunt Amelia to his left, each flanked by two of their daughters. Uncle Austin and Aunt Loree sat on one side of the table with three of their sons, while the other two were across from them. Seeing all her cousins gathered in one spot was a bittersweet reminder that her parents had longed for more children, but an accident that caused her mother to lose her first child had made it difficult for her to conceive and had prevented their household from growing beyond Faith.
After the food was spread out and the wine was poured, Faith lifted her glass. “I’d like to make a toast.” She waited until she had everyone’s attention and then looked at the man who she had little doubt was well on his way to once again becoming her best friend. “It’s good to have you back, Rawley. I missed the sarsaparilla sticks.”
His grin was small, a little playful, but something else reflected within it hinted at secrets shared. “I missed having someone to steal them from me.”
Laughter echoed around the table, the loudest coming from her cousins, who had all at one time or another been the recipient of a portion of the sticks Rawley constantly carried around in his pocket.
She lifted her glass higher, and a rousing “Welcome home, Rawley” echoed through the room.
After everyone took a sip of wine, food was passed around and the buzz of conversation filled the air as people began catching up with one another, their busy lives preventing them from getting together as often as they’d like.
“Rawley, I’m thinking of doing a series of articles on your travels,” Maggie said.
The intense manner with which Rawley cut into his beef told Faith he wasn’t at all comfortable with that notion. “Why would anyone care to read about my travels?”
“I think it would be interesting. ‘The Life of a Traveling Cowboy.’”
“It wasn’t as glamorous as you might think.”
“I don’t want glamour. I’m looking for stories of real-life adventures.”
Faith was just as interested in the details of his life during the time he was away. Neither his postcards nor his letters had revealed much about the particulars of his days and nights.
“It seems to me you ought to go on your own adventures and write about them,” he said.
“That’s what I’ve been telling her,” Grant, Uncle Austin’s eldest, said. “I’m going to Europe next year. You could travel with me, Maggie. See the wonders, experience them firsthand, and write articles that will put people right there beside you.”
“It’s not the sights I’m interested in. We’re losing a way of life and need to get it recorded before it disappears altogether. There’s a fella going around taking photographs of ranch hands working because he believes a time will come when we won’t have cowboys.”
“As long as people want meat,” Pa said, “we’ll have cowboys. Maybe not as many, but the cattle aren’t going to walk themselves to the train.”
Faith met Rawley’s gaze, and she wondered if he recalled how Cole had questioned his relevance, how she had expected he’d run the ranch while she established an oil empire. Everything could change so quickly.
People broke off into their own separate conversations. Faith found it difficult not to keep her attention on Rawley, not to listen and glean information about his time away. His affection for those surrounding him was evident in the intensity with which he listened to them speaking—the same intent look that crossed his face when Callie spoke to him. He’d make a good father, but then he’d had a good example.
“Rawley, you got home just in time for the grand opening of the new theater,” Uncle Austin said.
“What was wrong with the old theater?”
“This one
is for moving pictures,” Faith explained.
“We thought about simply converting the other theater,” her mother told him. “But I believe we still have a need for plays, opera, and culture. So I wanted to keep the stage. Laurel is going to manage the new one. She says moving pictures are becoming quite popular.” She looked down the length of the table. “Laurel, honey, do you want to tell Rawley about the theater?”
Uncle Houston’s second oldest daughter perked up. She loved talking about the moving pictures. She’d seen one a few years earlier when she’d taken a trip to Pittsburgh and afterward had returned home to regal them all with tales about it. “The Nickelodeon—that’s what we’re calling it—officially opens Thursday. Have you seen a moving picture?”
“I once peered through a Kinetoscope and watched a man sneeze.”
She laughed. “This is much better. It’s a story more than a single action. And it’s on a big screen, so you watch it with other people, sharing the experience, knowing those around you are just as enthralled. I’m excited we’re bringing something so modern to Leighton. The entire family is planning to be there. I hope you can join us.”
“I look forward to it,” Rawley said.
Laurel smiled as though he’d just handed her the moon. Faith didn’t blame her. He’d always been a favorite among the cousins.
He looked across the table at Faith. “I assume you’re planning to go.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Are you sure you won’t stay?” her mother asked after everyone had left. “Callie is asleep, and your room is ready for you.”
Faith considered it but figured she wouldn’t sleep a wink knowing Rawley was just down the hall from her. It had been difficult enough bathing in a room near his, imagining him lowering that long, lean body of his into steaming water. “I hate to wake Callie, so if you don’t mind I’ll let her stay. And Rufus, too, if that’s okay. In case she wakes up, she likes to have him near. It sounds awful, but I’d enjoy having the cabin to myself, experiencing a little quiet.”
“We love having Callie stay so that’s no problem.”
“I’ll escort you home,” Rawley said.
“That’s not—”
“It’s already dark, Faith.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
When the horses were saddled and they had mounted, since Callie wasn’t with them, she decided she was in the mood for a bit of adventure. “I’ll race you.”
Before he could agree, she urged her horse into a gallop and soon after heard the pounding of his stallion’s hooves. She pressed her mount to go faster. The moon and a thousand stars provided enough light to guide them.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw he was gaining on her, his grin flashing in the night. A subtle rivalry had always existed between them, and she’d appreciated that he’d never felt a need to let her win, had always considered her a worthy competitor. Tonight she drew comfort from the competition, grateful to be easing back into doing something with him that was as natural as breathing.
He beat her by half a length, whooping as he brought his horse to a halt. Sweeping his hat from his head, he waited as she eased her horse over. “What’d I win?” he asked.
“Bragging rights.”
He laughed, the deep timbre of his joy circling on the air and landing on her heart as gently as a butterfly on a petal. “I’ll take it.”
She dismounted. He followed suit and helped her see to her horse. When they were finished, she walked to the porch, placed her hands behind her, and leaned her back against the beam that supported the eaves of the cabin where tonight she’d sleep alone. Even though they’d built on an extra bedroom for Callie, Faith was always aware of her daughter’s presence, imagined she could hear her breathing, noted the creak of the bed whenever she rolled over. Faith would often wake in the middle of the night and go stand in the doorway, watching as her blessing slept. “I guess you’ll head into town for a bit of revelry now. It’s not that late.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I was thinking of going for a swim in the river. Want to come?”
She smiled, shook her head. “I can’t remember the last time I went swimming.”
“Sounds like it’s been too long then. Grab a couple of quilts. I’ll resaddle your horse.”
“Don’t be silly. We can walk.”
“It goes against a cowboy’s grain to walk. I’ve seen men mount their horses just to cross from one side of the street to the other.”
“Which I have never understood. It’s not that far. Give me a minute to change.”
By the time she returned wearing pants, a shirt, and boots, with her hair braided, he was holding a lit lantern he’d obviously taken from the peg outside the front door. She handed him a bottle of whiskey and hugged the quilts close.
He lifted the whiskey. “A woman who knows the way to a man’s heart.”
That was a misstatement if she ever heard one, but rather than arguing about it, she simply set off at a brisk pace, the light from the lantern giving her confidence she wasn’t going to run into an unexpected critter. “Speaking of being too lazy to walk—”
“I’m not lazy,” he interrupted her. “But I don’t see the point in using my legs when another set will work just as well.”
“I like walking. There’s a peacefulness to it. Have you seen these automobiles that Ford fella is making?”
“Rode in one once.”
She stared at him. “You did not.”
“Sure did.”
“What was it like?”
“Rattled a lot. Nearly shook my teeth loose.”
“Some fella came through in one a few months back. He said someday everyone will be driving one.”
“I’ll stick with my horse.”
“Still, I’ve been thinking we need a place in Leighton that sells the gasoline that folks who aren’t as closed-minded as you will need.”
He chuckled low.
“What’s so funny?”
“You are your father’s daughter. Always trying to figure out what people need, what’s going to bring them here, keep them here.”
“With cattle no longer being driven to the slaughter yards, towns are fading away. I don’t want Leighton to be one of them.”
“Do you ever think about leaving?”
“No. If I left, I’d be like you. Eventually I’d come back.”
“You could go away for a short while, just to see some of the sights.”
She smiled over at him. “I have your postcards.”
“It’s not the same, Faith. Standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon . . . it just takes your breath. Everywhere I went, I’d see something and wish you were there to see it with me.”
Knowing he’d thought about her while he was away touched her deeply. A part of her wished she’d been with him. When she’d awoken the morning after they’d kissed, in spite of her aching head and roiling stomach, she’d believed that something significant had changed between them, that more than their hearts had connected, that their souls had merged. She’d been filled with the promise of love and happiness. Until she’d discovered he was gone.
She’d been devastated by the news that he’d decided to move on, away from Leighton, away from her. Her pride had taken a blow, her heart a punch. He’d been a constant in her life—and he hadn’t even bothered to say good-bye. She couldn’t help but believe that her kissing him had prompted his departure. Hadn’t he told her it never should have happened?
But Cole Berringer had been more than willing to kiss her, so she’d compounded the first mistake with a second one, welcoming his courting of her. He’d spoken with her father, and Dallas had given Cole permission to visit with her in a nonbusinesslike manner. In his arms, she’d thought she might be able to forget about Rawley Cooper—but he’d always been there at the back of her mind, at the edge of her heart.
She watched the lantern light bobbing along
over the ground with his strides. “So you thought about me while you were gone?”
“Every day.”
She’d thought about him nearly every minute. “Why didn’t you write to me?”
“I don’t know.” Regret laced his voice. “To be honest, I don’t even know any longer why I left.”
A peacefulness settled over her to have Rawley at her side. She was careful to keep enough distance between them that their hands wouldn’t touch, but it seemed his path wasn’t as straight as hers because every now and then his knuckles glided over hers, and a shiver of unexpected longing coursed through her. It had been ages since she’d found joy in the presence of a man, but it seemed natural to inhale Rawley’s scent and draw comfort from it. She had an urge to bury her nose against the soft flesh at his neck, feel the bristles along the underside of his jaw scraping along her forehead, catching on her hair.
The silence eased in around them, and she drew comfort from that as well, from acknowledging that with him, the quiet void didn’t need to be filled with forced conversation.
With a laugh, she quickened her pace. She could see the outline of the trees, hear the rush of the water. The river cut a serpentine path along the Leigh property. Farther down, her father had battled with her mother’s family over the rights to the water. Peace had come with an arranged marriage, and love had soon followed. She never tired of listening to her parents’ story. It had always given her hope that she’d find her own love. It had taken her a long while to understand everyone’s story was different, and not all of them ended happily.
At the edge of the river, she dropped the quilts to the ground. “Who’s going first?”
“Ladies always go first. Dallas taught me that.”
Texas Legacy Page 8