Morley rose to his feet. “There’s no need for that,” he said loudly. He was a wealthy man by De Smet standards, and people listened to him. Sam got up and joined the family in their pew. Morley directed him to sit between Veronica and Josephine.
The service proceeded without incident, and when it was over, Mrs. Morley turned to Sam. “You’ll join us for the picnic, Sam?”
“I was planning on heading home after the service, ma’am.”
“But everyone’s brought picnic lunches, and the ladies have been baking pies all week. Just wait until you taste Josephine’s blueberry pie. There’s going to be a pie-tasting contest. Josephine is sure to win.”
With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, the young woman said, “Mama, there’re ladies in town who’ve been baking pies far longer than I have.”
Before he could stop himself, Sam said, “If it’s anything like that cake you baked, it’s sure to be good.”
The joy on the faces of the Morleys was not to be contained. Josephine merely smiled.
Most of the town and those living on claims were at the picnic. Sam felt he had no choice but to join the family. Mr. Morley placed their blanket strategically in the middle of the grassy area in front of the church, forcing the other families to gather around them. Mrs. Morley sat down to unpack their hamper while Sam stood beside Josephine. The young reverend wandered among the people, greeting everyone, chatting with the ladies, and patting children on the heads. He paid special attention to Josephine, who giggled in a way she did not when Sam spoke to her.
“You like him,” Sam whispered to her when the man had moved on.
“No, I don’t,” she said automatically, adding, “What makes you say that?”
“The way you look at him. You don’t look at me like that even though your parents want you to.”
“And you’ll never look at me like that either, though Papa says you look at Mr. Chandler that way. I’ve heard him talking to Mama about it when they think we girls aren’t listening.”
Their gazes locked in a brief standoff.
“I don’t care what you do,” she said. “But I wish Mama and Papa would stop talking about you. I don’t want a man who is more interested in another man than he is in me.”
“Have people in town been talking about us, Luke and me?”
“Yes. At least the men do. Papa tells them to shut up when I’m around, but I’ve still heard them.”
Sam looked about him, wondering if he should head home now. Josephine’s words made him edgy. But no one appeared to be paying him any special attention.
Mrs. Morley’s shrill voice drew their attention. “Sit down, both of you.”
Sam politely took Josephine’s hand to assist her while Mrs. Morley beamed her approval. He should probably have denied any intimacy between Luke and him, but aside from the fact that Josephine didn’t give a damn and couldn’t take her eyes off the reverend, he hated denying the man he loved.
He didn’t have much of an appetite, but he ate some fried chicken to be polite.
“Son, come over here with me,” Morley said after they had eaten. He stood up, and Sam followed him a few feet from his wife and daughters. “I was in Boston a week or so ago.”
“Yes, sir, you told me that.” What the hell was the man getting at?
“Samuel Porter-Smith the third.” Eyebrows raised, he looked Sam in the eyes as if to say, Aren’t I clever? When Sam failed to respond, he continued. “Now why would you come to De Smet pretending to be plain old Sam Smith when you are the heir to Porter-Smith Shipping and Investments? A Boston Brahmin. I knew you had that accent for all you’ve been trying to disguise it.”
Now Sam would have to tell Luke. “I didn’t want people judging me by my family. I wanted to make my own way.”
Morley slapped him on the back. “That’s admirable, but you can’t run away from your heritage forever. Sooner or later you have to take up the family business for your father.”
“How do you know all this?” Sam was getting angry. It took a lot to annoy him, but he didn’t like being spied on.
“I asked around about you.”
“Is that why you went to Boston, to spy on me?” There was an edge to his normally calm, polite voice that Morley detected at once.
“Take it easy, son. I had business in Boston. I just took the opportunity to follow up on you, that’s all. Does your family know you’re here?”
He still hadn’t read those letters. “Yes, they know I’m here, but I’d appreciate it if you’d keep any information you have about me to yourself—not just from my family but from the townsfolk too.”
“Of course I will. It’s just between you and me. But you know that’s the reason Chandler wants you. He’s nothing but a common man from an ordinary family. He wants to get his hooks into your wealth.”
“No, sir,” Sam said firmly. “Luke knows nothing about my family. He thinks I’m plain old Sam Smith. It’s you who is interested in my wealth.”
“No, son. I’m interested in an alliance.”
Angry now, Sam said something he would never say unless driven to it. “My family doesn’t make alliances with men like you. You’d have to have a hundred times the wealth and breeding you have.”
When another man approached, Morley put his arm around Sam’s shoulders, moving him farther away from the picnickers. “I’ll ignore that remark because I have more money than you realize.”
“It wouldn’t make any difference.”
“I heard you were involved with some boy at Harvard and your folks weren’t too happy about it, and that was why you left.”
Sam’s belly tightened with anger. He wanted to shrug Morley off and walk away, but his upbringing wouldn’t allow for that kind of disrespect, even to an interfering man like him.
“You don’t want to be coming here and getting involved with the same kind of shenanigans. This is an opportunity for a new start. Then when you go back to Boston to take up your inheritance, you can be normal. Like other men.”
Normal. That was the word his parents kept using. This was normal for him. He liked men. He loved Luke. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”
“Linden!”
They turned to see Mrs. Morley walking toward them.
“Why are you keeping Sam all to yourself? Let him come and sit with the girls. I’m sure he’s much more interested in looking at an attractive young lady than at you.”
“We’ll be there in a minute, Clara. Go and sit down.”
But she persisted. “How long are you going to be?”
“Sit down!”
Mrs. Morley walked back to the blanket to join her daughters. But the way he had spoken to his wife made Sam look anew at the man whom, until now, he had found merely annoying. Morley could be mean.
“Now, where were we?”
“I was about to leave, Mr. Morley. I need to get back to the claim.”
“The one you’re sharing with Chandler,” he said. “That man is leading you into bad habits. He was lonely from a bad winter, and then a handsome young fellow like you knocks on his door in a storm; you didn’t stand a chance. But that’s over now. You need to move out of there as fast as you can. Come and stay with us for a while. Get to know my girls a little better.”
Mustering all the good manners he had been taught from birth, Sam said, “Thank you, Mr. Morley, but I don’t think so. I’m working the claim with Luke. I’m learning how to farm and other things I could never learn at Harvard or in the family business.”
“I can just imagine what he’s teaching you. Playing around with a friend at college is one thing. You were both just boys, but Chandler is a man who knows exactly what he’s doing.”
Good manners be damned. Sam shook off Morley’s arm. “You don’t know Luke. He’s a good man.”
Morley placed his hand firmly on Sam’s shoulder, gripping it tightly. “Now look here, son. I’m trying to help you. Once you get a reputation for certain things, it’s near imposs
ible to get rid of.”
Sam lifted his arm, flipping Morley’s hand off his shoulder. “I am not your son, and I’m never going to be your son-in-law no matter how high your aspirations of marrying into a Boston Brahmin family. Your daughter is no more interested in me than I am in her. Josephine is in love with the new reverend. She’s been gazing at him since he moved into town, and if you care to look, she’s talking to him now.”
Following Sam’s gaze, Morley saw Josephine’s pink cheeks and laughing mouth as she conversed with the reasonably attractive young reverend. “I’ll whup that girl’s behind,” he said through his teeth, then indicated the younger girl sitting quietly with her mother. “There’s always Veronica. She’s easier to control. Look, Sam, my point is, you have to get away from Chandler before your reputation is destroyed. You have a family name to keep up. Chandler has nothing to lose. You have everything.”
“I’m going home, Mr. Morley, and I’ll thank you not to talk about Luke.”
Spreading his hands in exasperation, Morley said, “I’m going to write to your family and tell them what you’re up to. Someone’s got to help you, Sam.”
Walking away, Sam called over his shoulder, “If that’s what you plan to do, then I can’t stop you, Mr. Morley.”
Hurt and angered by the encounter, Sam walked through town to where he’d left Pip hitched outside the Beardsley Hotel. Just about everyone in town was at the picnic, leaving Main Street all but empty. He was glad not to come across anyone, because polite conversation was beyond him just then.
Between the Beardsley Hotel and Mr. Power’s tailor shop was an alley. With the sun was in his eyes, Sam did not know that two men were behind him until they dragged him into the shadows of the alley and threw him up against the side of the Beardsley Hotel.
His heart began to thud. He knew the men by sight. One was the man who had tripped him in church. The other worked at the grain mill. “I have no fight with you gentlemen. I’ll be on my way.” His calm voice belied the sick anxiety in his gut that threatened to bring up the food he’d eaten with the Morleys. He tried to push his way past the men, but they crowded in on him, making his escape impossible. He had no idea who threw the first punch, nor the second or third. By the time he heard the gunshot, he was on the dusty ground with a foot thrust hard in his belly, the breath knocked out of him and pain screaming through his head.
“Get the fuck away from him, you cocksuckers.”
With his rifle tucked under his arm to steady his aim and his revolver in his other hand, Luke faced the men. Sam managed to get to his knees, looking up at Luke with intense gratitude. Luke fired a shot at the foot of one of the men, grazing his boot and making the man leap up and down. “Whose idea was this?”
Neither man spoke but just looked at each other.
“Sam, who started this?”
“I don’t know.” With difficulty he got to his feet. “They both did it.” He looked at the men. “Cowards. Both of you.”
“Get your gun out.”
Sam obeyed, though he’d never fired at another human being. He limped over to Luke, holding on to his belly as pain ripped through him.
“Cover me,” Luke said.
Sam watched as Luke approached the men. They were armed but didn’t risk going for their weapons. Luke took out his pistol and whipped them across the faces with it, then fired into the air. “Get outta here!”
The men ran for the street while Luke fired another couple of shots at their heels.
“Come on, boy. Let’s go home.”
In the street Pretty Girl stood untethered near Pip. Luke helped Sam up onto Pip’s back and took the rein. He mounted Pretty Girl and led them out of town while Sam leaned over Pip’s neck, unable to sit up.
The ride out to the claim was usually less than an hour, but with Sam near unconscious, Luke took it slow. The sun was high and the heat oppressive, scorching them as they rode.
At the claim at last, Luke helped Sam down, letting the horses wander off. “They won’t go far, and they’ll stay together,” he said. “Can you walk?”
“Just about.”
Luke helped him into the house and over to the bed, where Sam sank down heavily. He pulled Sam’s boots off first and then stripped off his clothes to assess the damage.
“What does my face look like?” Sam asked.
“Oh, shut up. Your face is fine. Don’t be so damn vain.” Luke said it in a jocular tone, but his furrowed forehead and hard-set mouth showed his concern.
Sam forced a weak laugh. “Sorry. How did you know? I mean, what made you follow me?”
“I don’t trust people, and I have good reason to feel that way.”
Going in and out of consciousness, Sam was aware of Luke washing the blood from his face, and at some point he smelled Dr. A.W. Allen’s Southern Liniment and knew that Luke was rubbing his body with it. With Luke taking care of him, he would be fine. At last he drifted off to sleep.
* * * *
On the third morning Luke was so worried about Sam that he rode over to Lake Henry, where he’d heard a doctor lived, though he was terrified to leave Sam alone for the couple of hours the journey would take there and back. Asking around the small town, he was led to a house with a shingle outside declaring Dr. Cal Haines lived there. He sat in the waiting room for another hour until it was his turn.
“He’s rambling, and he hasn’t really regained his senses since I found him,” Luke told the doctor as they rode back to the claim. He’d had to pay cash to get the doctor to come at all.
“I expect people to come to my surgery. I don’t go to homes unless a patient can’t come to me. I’m doing this as a favor.”
Angry but holding it back, Luke said, “I appreciate that. He’s not fit to travel even in a wagon. I think his ribs might be broken.” For the past three days he’d been terrified Sam was going to die. He’d seen men survive a fight before, then die a week later because their lungs had collapsed or they were bleeding inside. He wanted the man to understand how important Sam was to him, but how could he without lying? After this, Luke would never trust anyone ever again.
“And who did you say he is?”
“My little brother.”
“And he was thrown by his horse?”
“That’s right.”
The doctor rode at an irritatingly slow pace. Every time Luke tried to go faster, he just trailed behind, refusing to make his horse trot. Luke’s anger and agitation did not begin to subside until he saw the shanty outlined against the big prairie sky. At last, inside the cool, dim shanty, the doctor examined Sam, who lay naked under the sheet, it being too hot for the quilt. “Is he pissing every day?” the doctor asked.
“Yes,” Luke said.
“And drinking?”
“Yes, but not eating.”
When the doctor ran his hands over Sam’s ribs, pressing here and there, Sam cried out, making Luke, who had been staying back from the bed, come quickly forward. “Don’t hurt him.”
The doctor looked him up and down. Luke guessed that the look on his face said more than his mouth was saying about his concern for Sam. “Your brother”—he said the word as if he knew the truth—“has a couple of broken ribs, and his liver is swollen. He looks to me like he’s been in a brawl. Does he drink?”
“No, he doesn’t,” Luke said.
“Was he beaten up?”
“I told you. He fell off his horse.”
From his bag the doctor took bandages. He bound Sam’s ribs tightly and gave Luke a bottle of tablets. “Those are for pain. He can have one in the morning and one at night. Don’t give him any more than that; they’re very strong. They’ll make him sleep soundly. He’ll start to get better in about a week. Try to get him to drink beef broth, no fat until the liver swelling goes down, which should take a couple more weeks. If he stops pissing or if his piss looks dark, come and get me again. That’ll mean his kidneys are failing, and there’s a fair amount of bruising around his lower back, so that worries me.
Have you spoken to the sheriff?”
“There’s no sheriff in De Smet,” Luke told him.
“There’s one in Volga. Send a telegraph. They have to come and investigate.”
“Investigate a man falling off his horse?” Luke had no intention of sending for a sheriff. He’d taken care of the problem as far as he was concerned.
“I’ll come by again in four or five days unless I hear from you first.”
“He’s not going to die, is he? I’ve seen men die a week or more after…”
“After they’ve had the shit kicked out of them?” the doctor questioned. “I’ve listened to his lungs. They’re fine.”
Relieved to see him go, Luke sat on the side of the bed, watching for any signs of alertness from Sam. The moment his eyes fluttered open, the young man’s face screwed up with pain. “Wait.” Luke got a pill and a mug of water. He helped Sam sit up to take the pill. “The doctor said these will keep the pain away.”
Sam drifted back to sleep while Luke tried to figure out how he could get some beef broth. He’d have to go into town to buy some beef and cook it, though he wasn’t sure exactly how to do it.
“Sam, sweetheart, I’m going into town to see if I can get something to make broth for you.” But Sam was deeply asleep and made no response.
Outside Pretty Girl was still saddled and wandering around grazing. Luke whistled, and she came to him right away. Luke put the padlock on the door to be sure Sam was safe and then mounted the horse. He took it slow riding into town since the animal had already been for a long ride in the hot sun. If Doc Haines was right, Sam should sleep the whole time.
Town was as busy as it usually was on a weekday. No one greeted Luke when he hitched the horse outside Barker’s Grocery. But when he stepped up onto the boardwalk, a man spat at his feet and walked away. Everyone in town knew what had happened and why. The knot in Luke’s belly, which had started to form the closer he got to town, felt like it was going to rise into his throat to choke him. He felt murderous. Two no-good bums had beaten his beautiful man, and the town was acting like he was the problem. This was exactly what he’d wanted to avoid when he’d come to De Smet.
Winter Hearts Page 14