Waiting for Morning (The Brides Of Last Chance Ranch Series)

by Margaret Brownley

  “Don’t turn off the motor,” she cried.

  No sooner were the words out of her mouth than the car rumbled and coughed, then stalled of its own accord. She met Caleb’s gaze and she knew by the horrified look on his face that he feared a backfire too.

  She held her breath until her chest felt ready to explode. One minute. Two. Bertha didn’t make a sound and the cattle stayed calm. Molly slumped against the auto, hand on her chest to still her pounding heart.

  Grinning, Caleb scrambled over the side to join her.

  “It looks like we’re stuck here for a while,” he said cheerfully. Cattle milled around them in every direction, the air filled with the smell of heated hides.

  He leaned against his vehicle, arms folded. “I guess this is as good a place as any to talk.”

  She glared up at him. The glow of the carriage lights lit his face and his eyes shone like polished gems.

  “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Shh. Keep your voice down,” he cautioned. “We don’t want to spook our friends here.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time you started a stampede,” she replied, though she was careful to keep her voice low.

  “And I’m going to do my best not to start another,” he said.

  “That gives me small comfort, seeing that we may be stuck here all night,” she hissed beneath her breath.

  “Look on the bright side. You’re stuck with me.”

  She bit back the retort springing to her lips. She didn’t want to argue. Not here and not with him.

  Several moments of silence passed, punctuated by low moos and shuffling hooves. Curious beeves stopped to check the stillflickering carriage lanterns before moving away.

  Caleb finally spoke. “Molly, I can’t work with your brother unless you’re honest with me.”

  “He doesn’t want to work with you.”

  “All right, I can accept that. I think he’s making a big mistake, but if that’s what he wants I’ll respect his wishes. Right now, I’m concerned about you. There’s something you’re not telling me and I want to know what it is.”

  His gentle gaze seemed to reach into her very soul. Instinctively, she lowered her lashes, blocking out his probing eyes and protecting her long-held secret. Something Brodie said came to mind. “You gotta teach a horse to use his instincts to take care of himself.” That’s what she wanted to do—and her instincts told her to run. Only she couldn’t. She was hedged in on all sides by cattle.

  He brushed away a strand of her hair and ran a knuckle tenderly up the side of her face. The gentleness of his touch wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She prayed for strength even as she felt herself growing weak. How did he always manage to do this? Confuse her to the point that she didn’t even know her own mind.

  “I apologize,” he said. He looked and sounded sincere and the last of her defenses melted away. “I should have talked to you before taking Donny for a ride. I wasn’t thinking. I have a patient who is growing more sickly every day and I guess I was looking for an escape.”

  “Oh, Caleb, I’m so sorry.” She studied his face. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “All I can tell you is that my patient is a child and”—his voice broke—”it doesn’t look good.”

  The sadness in his voice touched her deeply. She pressed her hand against his face. “Why does God let these things happen?” She wanted to believe in a good and caring God, but at times like this it was so very, very hard.

  Caleb covered her hand with his. “I guess God wants to see what we’re made of, and right now I feel like I’m made of straw.”

  “That’s not true, Caleb. You’re one of the strongest men I’ve ever met. Certainly you’re the kindest and most generous.” Their gazes locked and it seemed like nothing existed but the two of them. “You give so much of your time caring for others—helping Donny. Yet you ask for nothing in return.”

  “Don’t make me out to be a saint,” he said. “I do want something in return, more than any man has the right to ask. I want to see your brother live a full and happy life. I want to look into a worried mother’s eyes and tell her that her child will be all right. I want to lift a drunk out of a gutter and cure his pain.” He fell silent for a moment before adding, “I want you and me to be more than just friends.”

  Her senses jolted as if hot water had suddenly poured through her veins. Speechless, she pulled her hand away. Not even the bellowing of a dozen calves drowned out the sound of her pounding heart.

  He lowered his voice. “But that’s not what you want, is it?”

  Her mouth went dry. “No. No, it’s not.” She spoke the truth. Of course it was the truth. Why, then, did it feel like such a lie?

  “Because of Donny.”

  It was a statement, not a question, but still she nodded. “He’s in the wheelchair because of me.” She didn’t want to tell him what happened that long-ago day, didn’t want to tell anyone, but she had to make him understand why they could never be more than friends.

  “Go on,” he said gently.

  “I . . .” Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m responsible for his accident. Isn’t that enough? I did that to him.”

  She searched his face, certain to find the same condemnation observed so often on her mother’s face. Instead he pulled her into his arms and held her close. Something broke loose inside and the barriers around her heart crumbled away. The needy child within felt comfort in his arms, the needy woman felt protected. Head on his chest, she breathed in his fragrance, absorbing his very essence. The spicy scent of bay rum aftershave filled her head, chasing away the smell of heated hides and burning rubber.

  “How, Molly? How are you responsible?” he murmured in her ear. When she didn’t answer, he added, “Sometimes it helps to talk. To let it all out.”

  “I—I was pushing his carriage and it got away from me.” She spoke slowly because turning the horrible memories into words brought almost unbearable pain. “It rolled down the hill and I could do nothing”—her voice broke in a sob and he tightened his hold— ”nothing to stop it.”

  “You couldn’t have been but a child,” Caleb said quietly. He lifted her chin and gazed into her face, his eyebrows raised inquiringly. “How old were you?”

  A shiver of awareness ran through her. “I was eight. Old enough to know better.”

  His eyes widened beneath his arched brows. “Molly, you were a child.”

  She stiffened. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t try to make it sound like I’m blameless. I should have known better. I should have protected him. Instead, I stopped to look at a doll in a store window and . . .”

  She forced herself to breathe but she couldn’t stop the tears or even the words. A dam had burst open and words tumbled out of her mouth so fast she could hardly keep up.

  “It was cold that day. It was about to snow. I remember because I wore a thin dress. I had taken off my coat to cover Donny.” It was a week before Christmas, and she’d stopped to admire a decorated tree in a store window, only to be mesmerized by a doll beneath a pine branch.

  The porcelain doll had a rosy-cheeked face, a delicate bow-like mouth, and blue eyes that appeared to follow her wherever she moved. It was dressed in a cotton dress and high-button shoes with a big straw hat atop a head full of honey curls. She had never seen a doll more beautiful or lifelike.

  As she talked, memories assailed her until she could no longer keep up with her thoughts. The doll. The carriage rolling away. The horror. “I screamed and a stranger ran after it.”

  Caleb’s gaze never wavered from her face, not even when a calf brushed against them with its tail. He pushed tendrils of hair away from her forehead and murmured soothing words in her ear.

  “It’s all right. Let it out.”

  In her mind’s eye she could see that long-ago day. Some of the details were vague but not Donny’s limp body. She could see him so clearly it was as if everything that happened played out before her eyes again.

>   “Donny lay sprawled on the ground. He never made a sound. I tried to get to him but a crowd had gathered and I couldn’t get through. I . . . I was certain he was dead.”

  He lay in a coma for several days and no one knew if he would live. Her father never blamed her but her mother certainly did. Her mother had waited years to bear a son but she hadn’t bargained on becoming a nursemaid.

  No longer did her mother tuck her in bed at night or brush her hair or help with her stitchery. She no longer existed in her mother’s eyes. Molly had begged for forgiveness, even on her mother’s deathbed, but none ever came.

  Molly could hardly blame her. Not only did the accident change Donny’s life, it changed all their lives. Her parents’ marriage suffered as well. Mama and Papa argued over Donny’s care and her father stayed away days at a time. Donny’s accident was like a hatchet splitting the family apart.

  When her tears were spent, Caleb held her face between his hands and gazed into her eyes. He brushed his mouth against her forehead and kissed the tip of her nose. She trembled at the sweetness of his lips against her flesh, at the tenderness in his eyes, but nothing prepared her for the moment he kissed her fully on the mouth.

  Blood pounded through her veins. His mouth demanded a response in kind and she earnestly kissed him back. Rising on tiptoes, she flung her arms around his neck. He pulled her closer still and it seemed as if their very hearts embraced.

  At that moment, nothing seemed to exist outside the circle of his arms, not the lowing cattle nor the silvery moon stealing a silent path across the sky. Not even Donny.

  When he lifted his mouth away, disappointment flooded through her. “How many cattle does Miss Walker own?” he asked, his hot breath mingling with hers.

  An odd question under the circumstances but she replied, “Nearly two thousand.”

  He gave her a crooked smile and her heart practically flipped. “Excellent.” Once again his kisses blocked out everything except for the exquisite sensations.

  In between kisses they talked. He told her about his dream of one day opening a clinic. “And I want one of those machines that take pictures of the bones,” he said.

  She couldn’t imagine such a thing possible, but she shared his enthusiasm. She told him about Dobson Creek and how she came to sing at Big Jim’s. “When Papa took ill and could no longer work at the mines, Big Jim was the only one who would hire me. He was Pa’s friend and I think he did it as a favor. I didn’t even know I could sing until I took the job.”

  “You have a beautiful voice, Molly,” he said. “I wish you’d consider singing at church. We need a singer like you. I’m sure you could learn some hymns.”

  Sing at church? Normally she would have laughed at the idea, but not tonight. Tonight anything seemed possible—even photographing patients’ bones and singing in a choir.

  It was after midnight when the last steer moved away and Caleb was able to take her home. She sat in the front seat and this time hardly noticed the bumpy ride. She floated on air. Neither of them spoke during the drive back to the ranch house. Talking over Bertha was never easy. Tonight it was impossible because she was too busy reliving the memory of Caleb’s embrace.

  His kisses were nothing like the stolen kisses of miners’ sons or the occasional slobbering kiss of some drunk who unexpectedly grabbed her at Big Jim’s. Nothing about Caleb was what she had come to expect from a man.

  Parking a distance from the ranch house to avoid disturbing the residents, Caleb walked her to the verandah. His eyes shone like jewels in the moonlight, his hand at her waist felt warm and reassuring.

  All too soon they reached the front door. “Good night,” she whispered, but before she could enter the house he pulled her back and swung her around in his arms once again. He leaned forward to kiss her good night and she quickly closed the distance between them.

  And then she heard it, a voice calling from the open window of Donny’s bedroom. “Mol-ly.”

  In the blink of an eye, the magic vanished. In a single heartbeat, sanity returned and reality slapped her in the face.

  She pulled out of Caleb’s arms and turned to the door.

  “Wait,” he called softly. “When can I see you again?”

  She stopped at the threshold, her back toward him. Such a simple question, yet it held a world of meaning. He didn’t want to see her again; he wanted to hold her again, kiss her again, and she wanted him to do all those things.

  “Molly!” Donny’s voice was like thunder in her ears and she feared he would wake the others.

  She couldn’t see Caleb’s face and he couldn’t see hers. Couldn’t see how much she hurt. Couldn’t see her dying inside.

  “We can’t. Not like this.” Somehow she found the strength to step inside and close the door. Somehow she managed to keep her tears at bay as she felt her way through the darkened hall to Donny’s room. Somehow she managed to walk into her brother’s room when all she wanted was to rush back into Caleb’s arms.

  “What . . . what took . . . you so long?” Donny gasped between wheezy breaths. “I’ve been calling you.”

  “I’m sorry.” She felt her way across the room. The lamp had burned out. Fumbling in the dark, she ran her fingers across the bedside table until she found the safety matches. She refueled the lamp and lit it with trembling fingers.

  Donny was still in his chair where she’d left him. Even in the yellow glow his lips looked blue. She reached for his medicine and spilled some on the floor as she counted out the prescribed number of drops. She held the handkerchief to his face, and as he breathed in the soothing fumes she willed the pounding of her heart to cease.

  He pushed her hand away, breathing a bit more easily. “I heard . . . Bertha.” He looked up at her, his face filled with accusations, and she quickly turned her back so he couldn’t see her face.

  “Yes, Dr. Fairbanks and I . . . were talking.”

  “But it’s late,” he said.

  “Yes, so we need to get you to bed so we can both get some sleep.”

  “Are you sick? Is that why the doc was here so late?”

  She closed her eyes. If heartsickness was a disease, then yes, she was ill. “No,” she said. “I’m well.”

  After settling Donny in bed, she tiptoed quietly up the stairs to her room. It was no use trying to sleep. Instead she stood on the balcony, gazing at the moonlit landscape.

  She felt different, not at all like herself. It was as if someone had reached inside and rearranged every organ in her body. Outside, nothing had changed; she was still responsible for her brother’s care, but with one major difference.

  She always knew the sacrifices she would have to make to ensure Donny’s future, the biggest being any sort of a normal life for herself. It was a sacrifice she’d been willing to make. Had no qualms about making.

  Until now.

  Chapter 27

  During the next week Molly tried her best to avoid Caleb. It was easier that way. His presence only confused her, made her want things she had no business wanting. Made her ache inside.

  Riding always cleared her mind and she talked Brodie into letting her take an appaloosa for its first ride outside the corral. The horse’s name was Big Spot. A mild-mannered horse, he was brown all over except for a white spot that looked like someone had splashed whitewash on his back.

  Brodie cautioned her to take it slow and not try anything fancy. “You gotta watch these well-mannered horses, especially when they insist upon letting you go over a fence first.”

  Big Spot did no such thing and Molly put the horse through his paces with no trouble. She took her time heading back to the ranch. It was hot but a slight breeze cooled her flushed face.

  Spotting Caleb sitting atop the corral fence waiting for her, she reined in the horse abruptly. Apparently he had no intention of giving up. Avoiding him only postponed the inevitable. Bracing herself with a deep breath, she pressed her legs against Big Spot’s sides and the horse trotted toward the barn.

  C
aleb waited for her to unsaddle the horse and lead him to pasture before pulling away from the fence. He stopped behind her, his shadow closing the distance between them.

  “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  She pretended to play with the gate catch and said nothing. In the adjacent corral, Orbit hung his head over the fence to nuzzle Magic. Orbit whickered, Magic barked, and the two took off, romping alongside the fence. Even as she watched she felt the heat of Caleb’s gaze.

  “And now you won’t even look at me,” he said at last.

  She turned to face him. Big mistake. “About the other night. You were right. It did help to talk to someone.” To talk to you.

  “I’ll always be here to listen, if that’s what you want.”

  It wasn’t what she wanted, but it was all she could have. Silence stretched between them before she trusted herself to speak enough to change the subject. “How . . . how is the little patient you told me about?”

  He grimaced as if in pain and she longed to hold him as he held her on that memorable moonlit night.

  “Not well.”

  Studying him, she thought of all the negative prognoses she’d received on Donny’s condition. She felt sure that Caleb would never be distant and cold to his patients as Donny’s doctors had seemed to her. Yet how could a doctor survive otherwise?

  “I’m praying for him,” she said. “And I’m praying for you too.”

  He nodded. “Right now I can use all the prayers I can get.”

  She took a deep breath. “You’re a good friend, Caleb. I never told anyone else what happened. Only you.”

  A muscle quivered at his jaw but thankfully he kept his distance. “That’s a big burden to carry around.”

  “Yes, it is. I—” She glanced around. Where was Brodie when she needed him? “I better get back to work.”

  “Are we not going to talk about it?” He took a step forward. “Are we not going to talk about what happened the other night?”

  She backed away. She didn’t want to think about the other night, but the truth was she hadn’t been able to think of anything else. “Nothing can come of it. I have Donny to think about.”