As he walked into Barker’s, the store fell silent. A woman with a small girl grabbed the child by the arm and hurried out, letting the door slam behind her. You’d have thought that he’d walked in with horns and a tail the way they were acting. Luke walked up to the counter where Mr. Barker wrapped up a woman’s purchases. When he was done and had taken her money, Luke opened his mouth to speak, but Mr. Barker turned and walked away from the counter to serve someone else.
“I was next, Barker,” Luke said loudly.
“You’re not welcome in this store. I’m not serving you,” the man said.
“You’re going to serve me,” Luke said. “Or I’ll fucking make you.”
“There’s no need for that kind of language in front of ladies. But you don’t like ladies, do you, Chandler?”
Luke took two or three long strides toward the man, who dodged around the stovepipe, putting the stove between him and Luke. “You may need a stovepipe to protect you from me, but Sam had no one to protect him when two bullies from this town beat him up after church last Sunday. Now he’s so sick the doc from Lake Henry says he needs beef broth because it’s the only thing he can eat right now, and you’re going to serve me with it.”
Mrs. Barker walked over and took Luke by the elbow. She was a short, stocky woman wearing a black dress with a broach at the throat. She had a no-nonsense approach to business. “Mr. Chandler, I’ll serve you. Come over here, please. I’m sorry to hear Mr. Smith got hurt. He’s a lovely young man. Now do you want to make beef broth from scratch? Because I’d suggest beef extract in packets. Doctors recommend it all the time as a restorative.”
“Is it the same stuff?” Luke asked, grateful to get some assistance.
“Yes. It’s easier to make, and it keeps for months without spoiling. You put a packetful in a mug, add boiling water, and stir. It’s that simple.” She fetched a box from the shelf and took out several packets, laying them out on the counter. “How many do you want?”
Luke picked one up to read the label. Beef broth just like Mother made. Restores your strength like nothing else. “Enough for a week until he’s strong enough to eat.”
Mrs. Barker wrapped up the packets in brown paper. “Anything else?”
“That should do it, ma’am.” Luke thanked her and paid, inexpressibly grateful for her kindness. At the door he turned around, saying to everyone who was watching him, “If anyone else in this town thinks they’re not going to serve me in their business, they’ll have a fight on their hands. Spread the word.”
In the street a group of men had gathered. Luke ignored them until he had mounted his horse. “You got something to say?” he asked loudly. When he got no answer, he rode out of town. It wasn’t until he was out on the prairie with the town in the distance that he realized he was shaking. Not with fear but with anger.
Chapter Fifteen
“Come on, boy. Drink up.” Luke held the mug, tipping it to encourage Sam to finish the beef extract.
“I think I can eat today, and I’m getting sick of that beef broth.”
Every day Sam had improved a little while Luke tended him like a mother hen with a baby chick. He stroked Sam’s bruised face while the younger man sat up in bed, leaning on both pillows. “That’s good. But beef broth from a packet is easy to make. You might start getting sick again on my cooking.”
“That’s true.” Sam gave him a crooked smile. “I’m just glad I didn’t lose any teeth.”
“Don’t worry. Your pretty face will get back to normal soon,” Luke said. “Come on, finish this broth, and I’ll make you some mashed potatoes. I think I can manage that without poisoning you, and you should be able to eat it with no trouble.”
Sam reached out, taking Luke’s hand in his. “You’ve taken such good care of me.”
“It’s the least I can do. It’s my fault you got beat up.”
“Now that’s a dumb thing to say,” Sam protested. “How can it be your fault? If you hadn’t been there to rescue me, I might have been killed. I’d certainly have been in worse shape than I am now, and you did warn me against going into town.”
Luke got the sack of potatoes and took it to the table with a knife. It was all his fault. He should never have let Sam move in with him. He should never have laid a hand on the boy in the first place. “It’s because of me they turned on you. They think I made you like me.”
Though he had not been out of bed that day, Sam sounded tired when he said, “I’ve always been like you. I am naturally turned toward men. It’s who I am. You’re my darling man, Luke. I want you forever. No matter what the consequences.”
Words like that made him nervous. He was so afraid of losing Sam, and yet at the same time he knew it would be better for him to move on. “You should try to sleep again. I’ll wake you when this is done.”
“I’ve done nothing but sleep. I’m finished with this beef broth.” Luke got up and took the mug from him. “I could get used to having a maid.” Sam grinned.
Leaning down to kiss him, Luke said, “The only reason I want you well again is because I eat better when you cook.”
Sam chuckled.
“Now go back to sleep.”
Luke took the potatoes outside to peel them, along with a chair to sit on. The day was hot but not too oppressive, and the breeze was sweet. From where he sat, he could see the animals grazing in the corral and his wheat fields shimmering golden under the nourishing sun. Looking into the shanty through the open door, he could easily see the young man he loved resting peacefully. Despite what had happened last week, he should be happy. His life was a dream come true, but all he could think was, What next? Which one of them would be hurt next? Would he have to fight every time he needed to buy something in town?
The potatoes were peeled and chopped and sitting in the pot in fresh water when Luke saw on the horizon a buggy with two handsome horses trotting along the dirt track in his direction.
“What now?” he groaned.
Glancing at Sam, who was sleeping soundly, he took the pot inside and set it on the stove to boil. He went back outside just as the buggy came to a halt. Linden Morley stepped down and then helped down a pretty fair-haired young woman who was dressed for visiting. The fact that he’d brought his daughter said Morley was not there to cause trouble. But what the hell did he want?
Luke stood by the door, guarding it from the intruders.
“How are you, Chandler?” Morley asked.
“Just fine. But the boy’s still in rough shape.”
“I heard about what happened. I’m truly sorry. He’s a fine young man. Did you send word to the sheriff in Volga?”
Luke sneered. “You think he’d do anything when he heard the circumstances? Because I don’t. I took care of those scoundrels myself. They should both have black eyes at the least.”
“One of them’s got a fractured cheekbone,” Morley said. “But I doubt they’ll be contacting the sheriff either. This is my daughter, Josephine.”
Luke looked at his calloused hand still dirty from the potatoes and didn’t offer to shake. Instead he nodded at her. “Miss.” He supposed she would be considered pretty, but he rarely looked at women.
“Hello, Mr. Chandler. May I go in to see Sam?”
“He’s asleep,” Luke said brusquely.
“She won’t disturb him. Go ahead, Josephine, while I talk to Mr. Chandler.”
As much as Luke resented the woman walking into his home without his express permission, he didn’t prevent it.
“Will you take a walk with me, Chandler? I’d like to see how your crop is doing.”
“Would you?” Luke looked at the man with suspicion. They strode down toward the fields together. “What do you want, Morley? As for your daughter, Sam tells me she has eyes for no one but the reverend.”
“Yes, well, I’ve nipped that one in the bud. She won’t be making up to him again.”
Morley stopped to admire the wheat, every line straight as a die, the crop tall and healthy. “You�
�re a good farmer,” he said.
Luke didn’t respond. He knew he was good at farming. He didn’t need Morley to tell him that.
“Look here, Chandler. You’re ruining that young man’s life. He could have died last week. Now I don’t condone what those men did to him, but it was going to happen sooner or later. People already suspected there was something going on between the two of you. Now they know there is.”
Luke looked out across his fields. “Two men can’t bach together without one of them getting beaten up because of it?”
“Baching is one thing. Giving up a claim to move into a shanty with a rough-mannered man at least ten years your senior is another. The town thinks you’ve corrupted that young man.”
“Then why not beat the shit out of me? Could it be because I’m not such an easy target as Sam? I could take on two men no problem.” Those five in New York were another matter entirely. But two. Yes, he could manage two.
“Those men picked on Sam because he was there, that’s all,” Morley said. “Next time it will be you, and there’ll be more of them. You need to let that boy go. Let him get to know Josephine. They can have a normal life together.”
The desire to punch the man was hard to control, but Luke was careful to say nothing that would give them away. Even if the man thought he knew what was going on, it was still just guesswork.
“I’m not holding Sam against his will. He moved in with me because he realized he didn’t know how to farm and the work was too much for him on his own. He’s free to go at any time.”
Morley rocked back on his heels, thumbs in his suspenders. “If you care about Sam, and I believe you do, you’ll encourage him to move on and find a life he can be happy with. Let him move in with us until he’s well.”
Angered beyond words, Luke strode on ahead back to the shanty. Morley followed him and came inside after him without being invited.
Sam was sitting up in bed. The bruises on his chest and belly had faded from livid purple to yellow and gray but were still enough to elicit great concern from Josephine, who sat on the side of the bed, exclaiming over his injuries. “Papa, look what those cads did to Mr. Smith.”
Morley walked over to the bed and stood looking Sam over. “You’ll live, Sam. Maybe you’ll learn a lesson from this.”
Luke wanted to punch him, but his daughter’s shrill voice drowned out anything he was about to say. “Papa, that’s a terrible thing to say. Poor Mr. Smith is hurt.” She patted Sam’s shoulder. “I’ll get your mashed potatoes,” she said solicitously. “You didn’t lose any teeth, did you?”
“No, Miss Josephine, I didn’t.” Sam looked at Luke with eyes that pleaded, Please get them out of here.
The young woman took the pan outside to drain the potatoes. She returned and put the pot on the table and then got the butter and the bottle to mash them as if she were in her own home. Luke’s anger increased by the minute at her proprietariness. The sight of her mashing potatoes and piling them all fluffy and white and dripping with butter into a bowl while her father sat on the bed beside Sam, chatting with him, was almost more than he could bear. He should have gone outside to cool off, but he didn’t trust them not to load Sam into their buggy and drive off with him in his absence.
“Here, Mr. Smith. You should be able to manage this even with your bruised face.” Josephine carried the steaming bowl of potatoes and a spoon to him. She took a chair from the table to sit beside the bed, effectively blocking Luke’s view of Sam.
Luke had wanted to make the mashed potatoes himself and watch Sam enjoy them. Instead he sat at the table for another fifteen minutes—though it felt like an hour—and watched Morley and his daughter making small talk while Josephine asked Sam every three seconds if the potatoes were fluffy enough and if he would like more butter. Luke felt like a visitor in his own home.
“Have you had a doctor to see him?” Morley asked. “There’s a man near Lake Henry.”
“He’s been twice,” Luke said. “He says Sam will recover just fine.”
At last they got up to leave. Luke sighed with relief while Sam said, “Thank you for coming.”
As Morley helped his daughter into the buggy, he said, “I’ll bring her again the day after tomorrow to see if there’s anything she can do to help.”
“That won’t be necessary. I can take care of everything,” Luke said. “I’ve managed until now.”
“She doesn’t mind,” Morley said.
“I mind,” Luke said through his teeth. “We don’t need help, and Sam’s not well enough for visitors, so please don’t come back until you’re invited.”
As they drove off, Josephine looked at Luke, shrugged, and mouthed, Sorry.
He walked into the shanty and slammed the door, then stood with his back to it, punching one fist into the palm of his other hand. He looked across at Sam to see the young man watching him.
“Who do you want to punch, Morley or his daughter?”
“She’s not the problem. It’s him. You were right; she’s not interested in you. She’s just playing along to keep her father quiet.”
Sam’s laughter started slowly, bubbling up from his bruised belly. As it got louder, he hung on to his middle, moaning between laughing. “Ohhhh, it hurts too much to laugh.” Then he was off again.
Luke strode over to sit on the bed with him. “I don’t know what’s so funny.”
“Your face the whole time they were here. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
Sam’s laughter was infectious. Luke began to smile despite himself, but only because Sam was happy and getting better, not because he found anything funny about the intrusion. “I wanted to throw them out.”
Calming down, Sam said, “I know it was hard for you. Josephine making me mashed potatoes while her father was telling you to let me go and live with them.”
“How do you know that?” Luke asked.
“She told me. Her father gave her hell about the reverend, so she’s pretending she wants me instead. But she doesn’t. She was honest about it.”
“Do you know what you want?” Luke asked, afraid of the answer.
Sam reached for Luke’s hand and held it in his, though his grip was still weak. “I want you. No one but you.”
“I’m older than you and rough-mannered,” Luke repeated Morley’s words.
“You’re perfect for me. Luke. I am not going to marry that girl no matter how much Morley may want me to. It’s simply not going to happen. Even if I wasn’t in love with you, which I am, I’m not going to ruin some girl’s life and make us both miserable because I can’t love her or want her after dark.”
“So how were the mashed potatoes?” Luke asked.
Sam chuckled. “They were really good. You should fry up the rest for your supper.” With a small moan, he leaned forward to slip his arms around Luke’s neck. “You’ve taken such good care of me. Before you know it, I’ll be up and about and making your meals again. Can you believe I miss sweeping the floor and keeping our little house clean?”
“You’re loco, boy.” Luke kissed him. “Now lie down again.”
Chapter Sixteen
Autumn
“I’m going into town,” Luke told Sam after breakfast.
Obviously surprised, Sam asked, “What for?” He was sweeping the floor as he did every morning, catching every crumb until it was swept perfectly.
Luke had not allowed Sam to go into town since the beating, which meant Sam had stayed away from church. Luke knew it pained him, but it wasn’t worth the risk. Worse still, he felt responsible for keeping Sam away from something he loved. “There’s a man traveling through Dakota Territory with a new combine harvester. He’s renting it out. Mr. Ingram told me about it. He’s next on the list. I’m going into town to meet the man at the hotel and arrange to rent the machine. That crop is just about ready to haul in. This new machine will save us hours and hours of time, and it will beat that old mowing machine to all hell.”
“I’ll come too,” Sam said.
Luke knew he would say that. He must be bored staying on the claim all the time with just him for company, but he was afraid to let Sam go in case something happened. Aside from that, Luke had been into town a few times, only when necessary, and his reception had been no better than it was at Barker’s Grocery. At least no one had refused him service since the confrontation there. “I think you should stay here.”
Sam put the broom back in its corner. “I can’t stay away from town forever.” He grabbed the dishcloth to wipe the table after their breakfast. “Let’s take the wagon. I need some new white broadcloth, and I might want to pick up some other things. That one set of sheets is nearly worn out. I want to make us some new ones.”
Frustrated, Luke said, “Sure, why not. There’s a new dry-goods store in town. Clancy’s. They’ve got way more than Barker’s Grocery. Tell them you need stuff to make sheets for the bed you share with me. See how well that goes.”
A mischievous chuckle erupted from Sam. He was completely healed now and back to his old self. “Yes, I’ll tell them I spurt all over the bed when my man fucks my ass, so we need a change of sheets because he fucks me at least twice a day. And you should see the mess we make on Grandma’s quilt. I have to wash it once a week.”
Despite his concerns, Luke smiled. “You’re incorrigible, you know that, boy?”
“Yes, sir.” Sam left the cloth on the table and slid his arms around Luke’s waist.
“Handsome boy,” Luke said, dropping little kisses all over Sam’s face.
Sam laughed, sticking his tongue out to lick Luke’s cheeks. Luke leaned away, wiping his face with his hands. “I hate it when you do that.”
A loud cough in the open doorway drew both men’s gazes to Linden Morley. Luke stepped quickly away from Sam. The second he did it, he hated himself for it. This man was standing uninvited in the doorway of his house, on his land, and Luke was acting guilty.
With a few quick strides he was in Morley’s face with both hands on the man’s chest, shoving him outside. “Get out of my house and off my fucking land!”
Winter Hearts Page 15