“I like the idea,” Mary Teague said, looking thoughtful, “but could we expand on it? One of our goals is to bring culture to Lilac City, but we can’t do that unless we involve more than the people who already have some culture.”
“We need something that will bring in the cowhands,” Maude said.
It took all Judith’s restraint not to make a face at the suggestion. Yes, she’d asked around about cowboy artists, but once she’d returned home after speaking to some of them, she’d had to call for bathwater. It hadn’t even been that the men had been overly dirty or stank. They did hard work outside, after all. There’d simply been something so raw about the men that it had frightened her.
The men who worked her brother’s ranch had the same sense of power about them that Luke Hamblin’s men did. If she were to look closely at the cowhands in town, she was sure they’d have it as well. It made the sophisticated men back home seem weak, which wasn’t a comparison she was comfortable making.
Did all men have that raw edge about them? She saw it sometimes in Marshall, but her brother had managed to hold on to his finer qualities. Did the roughness of this life rub away at the refinement men wore like they did a finely tailored jacket? Was sophistication and elegance only an illusion? Once it was stripped from men, were they all like the cowhands? Surely not her brother.
Or Luke Hamblin.
“What do you think, Judith?” Maude asked.
She startled, as much from her uncomfortable ruminations as being pulled from them.
“I’m sorry,” Judith said. “I must have been woolgathering.”
“About anyone in particular?” Mary teased.
Judith flushed, looking down at her list. Why was she coloring like a schoolgirl over a man who’d called her his new sister? She refused to have feelings for Luke Hamblin.
“Don’t tease her.” Doris gave Judith’s hand a sympathetic pat.
“What did I miss?” she asked, all business.
“Edith says we ought to include the Christmas turkey shoot in our talent contest,” Maude said.
“It’s not a contest,” Judith argued.
“It’ll bring in the cowhands. If we’re going to feed them culture, we have to include a dish of something they enjoy. Men are competitive. Am I right?” Edith glanced around the table.
“Always listen to my sister,” Abe Vosburg said from the doorway.
Judith pursed her lips. The man knew this was a private meeting. She’d chided him about peeking in more than once.
“Oh, come join us, sheriff,” Mary Teague said, waving him to the empty chair beside her. “We could use some input from a man.”
Judith was about to protest when her brother and Luke Hamblin came to stand beside the sheriff.
“They want my input,” the older man said with a smug grin.
“Why don’t you all come in?” Maude asked.
Doris was already scooting over to make room for Marshall. He didn’t hesitate to grab a chair from the wall. That left the only other empty seat beside Judith.
“This is the Ladies’ Improvement Society,” she huffed, trying not to look at Luke as he sat.
“We’re not asking to join,” he said. “What is it you need masculine input on? You ladies have already shown yourselves to be queens of organization.”
“That’s all Judith,” Maude said. “She has an amazing memory for details.”
“What are you planning?” Marshall asked, looking ridiculously happy with his arm around Doris.
Judith shot a sidelong glance at Luke. What would it be like to have him put his arm around her? A powerful sense of longing hit her, making it impossible to speak. Then she noticed Edith watching, the corner of her mouth quirking up.
How humiliating. The woman was probably forty and seemed completely satisfied with being a spinster.
“Let me explain what we’d like to do,” Edith said, her expression now sympathetic.
Judith dropped her gaze to the table, forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths. What was wrong with her? It had begun with Maude’s marriage, followed a few weeks later by Doris’s. Judith had pushed her brother to pursue his interest in the sweet beauty. But never had Judith dreamed it would drive home what she could not have for herself.
As Luke listened to Edith Vosburg review their ideas, he still couldn’t shake the sense Judith was hurting. Her discomfort was almost palpable to him and perhaps anyone who bothered to look at her.
Since he’d first compared her to Gypsy—he must never let the beautiful Judith learn he’d thought of her in terms of a horse—Luke had remembered other occasions where he’d thought she was being snooty but now recognized as protecting herself.
Ever since she’d stepped off the train, her rigid posture and raised chin had given him the impression she considered herself above him. And people in town had thought the same thing.
It reminded him of the tea at the Circle B that he’d taken Doris to last summer. It had been the first one Judith had held, and she’d invited Doris to help serve. Luke had meant to drop his sister off and then leave. But something had prompted him to go inside.
As Judith had taken her seat to begin serving tea, he’d been drawn to her table. At the time, he’d wondered if he liked the pain of her condescension. While sitting stiffly straight and tense, she’d been surprisingly gracious, contrary to the shrewish way she usually behaved. Once he’d accepted a cup of tea and not had his head bitten off, a few other men had braved speaking with her. And she’d visibly relaxed. Judith Breckinridge was a confusing woman.
“So,” Edith said, finishing, “we’re looking at talents the men would like to take part in or watch.”
“In trade for sitting quietly for your more refined activities?” Abe asked.
“That’s quite a trade, sheriff,” Marshall said, grinning when Doris elbowed him. “But what’s to keep the men from leaving before the more genteel activities?”
“Have the turkey shoot be the last of the outdoor events,” Luke said. “Open with rope tricks and mix in some cowboy poetry in between the musical performances.”
“Oh, I like it,” Mary cried.
“Cowboy poetry?” Judith sounded like she was trying not to let her sarcastic side show, but she failed.
Irritated, Luke shifted in his seat to look at her. “You assume creativity is limited to people back East who get to attend fancy schools? My men spend a lot of time in the saddle. They find interesting ways to pass the time, including music and verse. Doris told me you’ve been searching out their sketches for your art gallery. I’m surprised you’d assume they’re all a bunch of know-nothings.”
Maude coughed.
“Sorry,” he muttered to Judith.
“My apology,” she said, stiff again, her face pale.
“It’s a shame you don’t own a piano, Luke,” Maude said. “We might have been able to convince Frances to play.”
“Oh, I miss hearing her beautiful music,” Doris said, her voice wistful.
“Frances plays the piano?” Luke felt stupid for not knowing that.
“Doris may be a gifted painter,” Maude said, “but Frances creates magic on a keyboard. She’s so passionate it comes through the music she plays. Just before Father died, he’d arranged for her to enroll in Dr. Domrosch’s new school he opened this year in New York. He’s the godson of Franz Liszt and doesn’t believe Americans should have to travel abroad for advanced music study.”
“Then Father died, and her hopes came crashing down.” Doris sniffed.
“Aren’t there any pianos in Lilac City?” Luke asked.
“Besides the honky-tonk in the saloon?” Abe asked.
“And the pump organ in the church,” Edith added.
“Frances had a Steinway back home,” Maude said.
“I hate to think of that beautiful grand piano under a dust cover.” Doris sighed.
“I’m sorry,” Maude said. “I didn’t mean to distract from the conversation. What else should we cons
ider for the program?”
“How about tall tales?” Abe asked.
“Oh, yes. We should include a tall tale competition.” Edith gave her brother a nudge with her shoulder. “This big lug has a few that would curl your toes.”
While the others moved on to discuss the order of the program to encourage the most people to stay for the day, Luke made a mental note to look for a piano.
He glanced at Judith. What could he say to smooth things between himself and her? They were family now, after all. He’d waited too long to have one again, and he didn’t want to be the cause of any awkwardness at family gatherings. To say nothing of his wish to convince this woman to let him take her out for a ride.
“Well, I’d like to thank you gentlemen for taking the time to help us with this,” Maude said, rising. “This could be the start of a new holiday tradition for Lilac City.”
The others stood and began to leave the room. Judith took her time stacking her notes and putting them in her bag.
“Luke, I’m going to take my lovely wife to lunch. Charles is meeting us in the dining room here.” Marshall said, giving his sister a concerned glance.
“Would you allow me to buy you lunch?” Luke asked Judith, standing beside her.
She jerked her head up to look at him, her eyes wide. Then she dropped her gaze. “I must go through my notes—”
“Please.” Luke held out his hand to her.
At first, he thought she wouldn’t take it. Then, with a sigh, she placed her hand in his and graciously rose. She truly had an elegance about her that seemed out of place in rough-and-tumble Lilac City. Perhaps the program would help her to see the people as more than their circumstances.
Judith’s hand trembled a little as she accepted Luke’s. Why would he be kind after chastising her for mocking his cowhands? And he’d had every right to do it. She hadn’t meant to be demeaning in her comment, even though her words and tone had reflected her thoughts.
“Tom told me you’ve come to their house more than once to see his sketches,” Luke said as they walked to the main dining room.
“Yes,” Judith said, aware of the interested looks directed at them by the locals. What were they imagining? That the handsome Lucky L Ranch owner had taken pity on his new spinster sister-in-law and was paying some attention to her out of pity?
“That’s all you have to say about it?” he asked.
Judith glanced at him, wondering what he wanted her to say. He didn’t approve when she spoke her mind. Though, in the case of Tom McDaniel, there was nothing but positive things to say.
“The man has a gift for capturing men and animals in motion. It’s my opinion he could compete with the likes of Frederick Remington and C. M. Russell.”
“Did you mention it to him?” Luke asked as he pulled out a chair for her at the same table as his sisters.
“I did. He didn’t believe me.” Judith sat and adjusted her skirts. “I’ve ordered some watercolors for him.”
Luke paused, his hand on his chair back, and then slowly took the seat. His look of surprise embarrassed and shamed Judith. Did he see her as having no womanly feelings? It was her own fault if he did. Her bitterness escaped at the most awkward moments, usually in front of other people.
“You ordered watercolors for my foreman.” Luke’s soft words were wary, as though he thought she might be preparing to mock him for believing she would do such a thing.
How could she explain to him—or anyone—how confused she was? The people she was being forced to associate with, for the most part, were from the lowest rungs of society. They were people she had always been protected from. Until she’d come to Lilac City, the servants in the homes and social gatherings she’d visited were the only people she’d spoken with whom actually labored with their hands. All her life she’d been taught those people were little more than intelligent apes, trained to take care of menial tasks.
Judith had accepted it as the truth. The little glimpses into the lives of these “lowly” laborers were showing her it was not the case. And she had no idea how to cope with it. All she’d been able to cling to since her father’s shameful behavior had been the knowledge she was something special, a member of a class above most people. If it weren’t true ... She would not consider it.
“Yes, I did,” Judith said, slowly opening her napkin and spreading it over her lap. “I wish to see if, by adding color to some of his works, he might increase their value and make them worthy to display in the gallery.” It wasn’t true, but admitting how talented the man was seemed an admission she wasn’t ready to make.
Luke had that pinched expression again, his disapproval strong. She should never have agreed to come to lunch. Judith moved her napkin to the table and rose.
“I really do need to get to work on the schedule for the Christmas event we discussed this morning.” Before anyone could argue with her, she grabbed her bag and turned away.
“What did you say to her, Luke?” Marshall was asking as she hurried to the entrance.
“I didn’t say anything.”
3
“Come on in,” Tom McDaniel called at Luke’s knock.
He stomped his feet to shake off the snow and entered his foreman’s house.
“Got a package for you.” Luke handed over the parcel with a New York postmark. In the week since Judith’s disclosure, he’d made sure to be the one who rode into town every day to pick up the mail.
“What is it?” the older man asked. “I’m not expecting anything.”
“Well, open it and find out.” Luke crossed his arms and tried not to look too interested. There’d been a false note to the disparaging comment Judith had said about Tom’s art needing watercolors. Why would she tell a lie to be mean?
Tom tore the wrapping from the carton. He lifted the lid, and both he and Luke leaned closer to see the contents. Tom glanced up and said, “Do you mind? You’re blocking the light.”
“Sorry.” Chuckling, Luke shifted his angle but didn’t step away.
Tom removed a book that had been on top of a wooden box with a shiny veneer. He carefully removed it from the carton and lifted the brass latch holding it closed. Inside were slots that held small colored blocks labeled with names like vermilion, indigo, sienna, and yellow ochre. The label on the inside of the lid said Color Box and had been crafted by Reeves and Sons. In London.
With a surprised expression, Tom said, “This must have cost as much as I make in a year. Why would anyone send me something like this?”
A sudden rush of pride flowed through Luke. Judith had only ordered a few watercolors, had she?
“What do you know? There are paintbrushes in the drawer underneath.” Tom picked up one and ran his fingers over it. He handed it to Luke.
“These must be made of mink or sable.” He ran the soft bristles over his cheek before handing it back. “That first chamber is deeper than what’s holding those paints. See if it comes out.”
With great care, Tom clasped the edges of the wood and lifted it to expose a porcelain platter divided into four sections. One end of the dish was perhaps an inch deep while the other end was quite shallow.
“What’s that for?” Luke asked.
“I’ve seen one of these before up in Billings a couple of years ago. You put water in the deep end to mix watercolors to the intensity you want.” Tom heaved out a breath. “I can’t accept this. It’s too expensive.”
Luke had been about to tell him Judith had sent it to him, but his foreman’s comment stopped the words. She considered Tom’s sketches good enough to justify an expensive purchase like this. Luke would have to warn her not to say anything, or the man would for sure give them back. Though she probably wasn’t planning to admit to the gift anyway.
“Are you going to send it back?” Luke asked.
“Good question.” Tom picked up the paper wrapping and scanned it. “There’s no return address.”
“Well, my suggestion is to not look a gift horse in the mouth.”
<
br /> Tom scowled, but it was obvious from his expression he was loath to give it back in spite of what he thought.
“I wonder what one of your sketches would look like colored with these,” Luke said, going to stand by one of the framed pictures on the wall.
“I’d want to paint some practice sketches first. Martha would kill me if I ruined one of those by painting them wrong.” Tom studied the pictures, his expression contemplative.
“Well, you’ll want to make sure you have plenty of paper then.”
“You really have no idea who sent this?” Tom asked, a crease between his brows.
“I just pick up the mail. I’d best head to the house. Maude and Charles are coming for dinner. You don’t want to be late either.” Luke didn’t wait for his foreman to say anything else but left the house.
Standing on the porch for a second, Luke braced himself against the cold as he scanned the white landscape. His thoughts drifted back to the box of watercolors. That Judith Breckinridge was a pistol. There was certainly more to her than met the eye.
“I’ll just get a bite to eat here with Mrs. Hauser,” Judith said to her niece.
“Oh, please come.” Five-year-old Lydia had taken her hand and was now wearing one of her pleading expressions. “I love having so many aunties now. Frances makes me laugh. I want to be just like her when I grow up.”
Judith straightened. The child could not have said anything more likely to convince Judith to attend. She would not allow Marshall’s delightful daughters to be influenced by that wild woman. Luke’s youngest sister spent her time with the men, riding with them, herding cattle, and had even led tours for the dude ranch guests last summer. It was outrageous, and Judith had no intention of allowing Frances to be a negative influence.
“I will come.”
“Oh, thank you.”
“So, my little sugar pie, you did it,” Marshall said from the doorway.
Lydia spun around. “I told Mama Doris I could talk her into coming, and I was right.”
A Lady for Luke Page 2