Tom leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Seems like my whole life has been a mistake.” He hadn’t meant to utter the words aloud. They’d come out of their own volition.
Chappell made an odd grunting noise and shook his head. “How come you to always be so down on yourself?” He chuckled. “You think I can’t see it? It’s in the way you walk, the way you hunch your shoulders forward, like you’re doing right now.” He gestured, and Tom straightened at once. “I hear it in your voice, see it in your eyes. What’s put it there?”
Never before had anyone posed questions to him in such a blunt manner. Tom shook his head. No need to inform Chappell about the sad particulars of his life. But the man sat waiting for a response.
“Long story,” he said with a slight shrug. “You don’t want to hear it.”
“Nah, I reckon it’s more like you just don’t want to tell it.” Chappell shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
“What’s the point in talking about it? Talking never changes anything.”
“The past, you mean? Right you are. Can’t change the past. That’s what I meant before, about having regrets. Too late for me to do anything about it.” He cleared his throat. “But you’re still young. Young enough to have dreams. Young enough to go after them.”
Tom stared off into the flames.
“What dreams have you got?” The old man began whittling again, keeping his eyes on his work.
“None to speak of.”
“That’s a damned lie. Every man’s got dreams, or if he don’t, he damned sure ought to have a few.”
“Well, yeah, sure, I’ve got dreams.” Tom hesitated. “But that’s all they are. Don’t see that they do a man much good.”
“What kind of fool-headed talk is that?” Chappell set the carving aside and turned his full attention on Tom. “It’s having a dream that makes a man what he is. It’s dreams that lead a man to become all he’s supposed to be.”
“Maybe for other men, but not for me.”
Chappell took a pipe from a wooden rack and tapped it against the hearth. He pulled a pouch of tobacco from the pocket of his flannel shirt, then carefully filled the pipe’s bowl. “You’ve got as much right as any other man to think about the future and how you want it to turn out. Don’t ever let anybody tell you different.” He tamped the tobacco down, his unyielding gaze still fixed on Tom.
Tom’s breath caught. There it was again…that crazy idea that he was good enough to have a dream, maybe even good enough to have a dream come true.
“So?” Chappell bent forward, picked up a splinter of wood and held it to the fire. When it caught flame, he lifted it to his pipe, sucking in deep draughts of air. “Speak up. What is it you’re wanting? And how are you going to get it?”
As quickly as Tom’s hopes had risen, they fell again. He wanted so much. Love. Faith. Lucille. He wanted land of his own, a home, a few good horses. Most of all, he wanted to prove his worth, prove that his life meant something.
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, how you’re trying to encourage me, but I can’t do it, Leland,” he said, turning away from the man’s steady gaze. “Wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“You begin right where you are. Right here, right now.” The old man got up and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You hear what I’m saying?”
“Yeah, I hear you talking, old man, but—”
“But there you go with that bad attitude again.”
“Not a damned thing wrong with my attitude.”
“No?” The older man returned to his chair. “I think there’s a lot wrong with it.” He sucked in his cheeks as he took short draws on his pipe. “I think you’ve got your priorities a bit skewed too.” He took the pipe from his mouth, then pointed it toward Tom as he gestured. “Every afternoon you come riding out here to help me. You’ve done my chores, helped me keep things going around this place, and you won’t take a cent.”
“I’m not asking you to pay me.”
“Never said you were, but every time I offer, you shake your head, or else you act like you didn’t hear a word I said.” He put the pipe stem back in his mouth and clamped his teeth around it. “Don’t go telling me you don’t need the money.”
“I wouldn’t feel right taking money from you, Leland.”
“I understand. Just don’t ever let foolish pride stand in the way of good sense.”
“Money’s not all that important to me, I guess. I mean, sure, there’s never enough of it, but that’s the thing, don’t you see? There’s no way I could ever get enough money saved up to have all the things I want.”
From the corner of his eye, he caught Chappell grinning at him. The man’s friendly demeanor put him at ease again. He stretched out his long legs, leaned back, and let the dreams come. Now, he eagerly shared his cherished dreams with the old man at his side. Somehow, just talking about them made them almost feel real.
“You know, Tom, it’s not always about money. Folks are always going on about how bad things happen to good people, but don’t ever lose sight of the fact that good things happen too. Sometimes dreams come true in unexpected ways. Never give up hope.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He turned to stoke the fire again.
“And what about that pretty little gal you’ve talked about? The one taking care of your baby girl.”
“Lucille.” The name brought a smile to his face, a smile so big and broad he was damned glad he had his back turned so Leland wouldn’t see what a fool he was. “Yeah, well, I don’t stand much of a chance with her.”
“You ever kiss her?”
Tom’s cheeks grew warm, and it wasn’t because he was standing so near the fire. He did his best to wipe the smile from his face and put on a serious expression as he turned back to Leland. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve heard it said that a gentleman never kisses and tells.”
“Goes to show what a good man you are.” Leland laughed. “But I’d lay odds you’ve kissed that gal a time or two. Now, here’s the deal,” he went on quickly. “There’s ways a man can win over a woman, and listen up, ’cause I’m about to tell you how it’s done.”
Tom returned to the chair, drew in his legs, then bent forward. “I’m all ears.”
“There’s a dance coming up at that social hall in town, right?”
“Right. Next Saturday.”
“You asked that gal of yours yet?”
“Lucille isn’t my gal.”
“She will be if you do what I tell you. What you do, Tom, is listen to what she says. Simple as that.” He sucked on the pipe and nodded. “Yep, that’s what you do. If she says she wants to dance, then whirl her out onto the floor and kick up your heels with her. If she says she wants to sit a spell, lead her to a chair, pull it out for her, then pull up a chair of your own, scoot up close, and spend a little time putting your heads together, talking about life. If she says she’s hungry…”
“Grab her a plate of food,” Tom interjected, quickly grasping the man’s strategy.
“Whatever she wants, you give it to her. And in return,” he added with a sly grin, “she’ll give you whatever it is you’re wanting.” He leaned back. “I guarantee it.”
* * * *
Life didn’t come with any guarantees, and Tom knew it, but as he rode toward home late that evening, his thoughts veered off toward places they probably shouldn’t go. Ever since Chappell had given him that bit of advice about pleasing a woman, he hadn’t been able to get his mind off Lucille.
He wanted to call on her and ask her to go to that dance, but it was awfully late. Most likely the lovely Miss McIntyre was getting ready for bed. Maybe she’d already slipped out of her clothes and put on a sleeping gown and a flimsy robe. Or maybe she was stepping into a tub of sweetly scented bathwater, standing naked in all her glory.
His thoughts skittered out of control, rushing headlong toward intimate territory. It was wrong to think of Lucille that way, but damned if he could stop. Nor could he stop
himself from heading straight through town, right out toward the old McIntyre place.
As he rode up, he caught sight of a light burning at the front window. Someone was awake. Tom tethered his horse at the gate, then strolled toward the porch, his heart beating excited rhythms in his chest. He knocked softly at the door, and when Lucille opened it, his breath caught in his throat. In the soft gleam of the lamplight, she looked ethereal, as though she’d stepped from one of his dreams.
Her long hair was unbound, falling in thick waves around her beautiful face. She was still dressed in a simple, high-necked frock, and she held Faith in her arms. She looked pure, she looked innocent, and she looked more enticing than ever.
“Tom?” She peered up at him, confusion written in her eyes. “What are you doing here?” Her voice had an urgent, breathless quality about it.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
She hesitated, then opened the door, allowing him to step inside.
Although he’d come to see Lucille, the sight of Faith sleeping contentedly in her arms filled his heart with different yearnings.
“May I hold her?” He stared down at the little angel. For a moment, he worried that Lucille would refuse, but she nodded and handed him the precious child.
“I was rocking her to sleep,” Lucille said, gesturing toward the chair in the corner. “I was getting ready to put her in her bed.”
“I’ll do it. Lead the way.”
She nodded. With careful, quiet steps, he followed her through the house to the room where Faith slept. Her crib awaited her with its cozy knitted coverlet thrown back. Gently, he placed the baby into her bed and tucked the blankets around her. Faith did not so much as flutter an eyelash. Her tiny cheeks were rosy with sleep. Impulsively, Tom reached out to stroke the warmth and softness of her skin. Something deep within him stirred.
Someday he wanted children of his own, and he wanted the woman beside him to be the mother of those children. She stood so close he could hear each breath she took. Lucille smelled faintly of flowers, a sweet, tantalizing scent like the lilies of the valley that blossomed in the spring.
She reached over to smooth the covers. Tom straightened and smiled at her. After a moment’s hesitation, she returned the smile.
“Lucille, I wanted—”
She placed a finger to her lips, shook her head, then motioned for him to follow her from the room. Together, they returned to the parlor.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he whispered.
Again, she hesitated, her gaze going to the stairway. “Mama’s sleeping. I’d hate to disturb her,” she said in a quiet voice. “Let’s step outside.” Lucille picked up a woolen shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders.
He gestured toward the door. “After you,” he said, remembering Chappell’s advice. Whatever Lucille wanted, he’d give—within reason.
The moment they stepped out into the chill night air, her demeanor changed.
“All right, let’s not beat around any bushes. What are you doing here?” She clutched the edges of the shawl with a fierce grip.
“I wanted to ask you…” He felt his nerve slipping away.
“Ask me what?”
Figuring it might be best to work his way up to the real question, he threw out another instead. “I heard you opened up your little shop again. How’s it going?”
She peered at him with an odd look. Obviously she hadn’t expected the question. “I think I’ll be able to make it work. Seems a few ladies did miss me while I was closed, plus with the big holiday dance coming up, I’m keeping busy. Lots of girls want new dresses.”
She’d given him precisely the opening he needed.
He hesitated, then blurted it out. “About the dance, Lucille…”
“Yes, what about it?” She looked genuinely perplexed.
“I’d be mighty pleased if you’d go with me.”
“Oh, I see.” Lucille looked away and sighed. “First, you pretend to have a genuine interest in my business, and then you invite me to the dance. I know why you’re doing this, Tom.”
“You make it sound like I have some trick up my sleeve.”
“Don’t you?” She brushed a strand of hair back from her cheek. “You’re trying to get on my good side, that’s all.”
“I don’t deny I’d like to get on your good side, and I’d like to stay there, but mostly I’d just like to spend a little time with you.” Tom reached out and gently lifted her chin. “I like you, Lucille.”
A gentle smile appeared on her face, but sadness filled her shimmering brown eyes. “There’s something you need to know, Tom. I’ve written to Judge Morse. I’m asking him to grant full custody of Faith to my mother and me.”
Although her admission surprised him, he saw no cause for alarm. “He won’t do it. You know you’re wasting your time.”
“Actually, I’m not so sure of that.”
“Judge Morse gave custody to me,” Tom reminded her. “He talked about the importance of blood ties, the need for a child to be with kin.”
“Yes, but you gave her away. You handed her over to me. Even more, you admitted you couldn’t care for her properly.”
Her words smacked him like a slap in the face. “You’d use that against me? You know why I asked for your help. I turned to you because I want what’s best for Faith.” He fought to keep back the emotions surging inside him—emotions so volatile he couldn’t describe them. Anger, fury, guilt, shame, and confusion…all rolled into one gigantic, aching pain.
“So, you see, you probably wouldn’t want to take me to that dance. You’re probably so angry with me now that you’ll walk away and never speak to me again. You probably won’t want to ever see me after tonight.”
Tom mulled her words over in his mind. It didn’t take long to figure where her thoughts were headed.
“That’s what you want, isn’t it? You want to tell Judge Morse that I turned my back on Faith and walked away. You want one more thing to use against me.” Although it hurt, he forced himself to smile as he took a step closer. “Well, Miss Lucille, get this through your pretty little head right now. I’m not going anywhere. In fact, you’re going to be seeing a lot more of me. And yes, for what it’s worth, I’d still like to take you to that dance.”
She drew back. “Why would you want to do such a crazy thing?”
“I believe I’ve already stated my reason.” He pushed his hat back and let out a breath. “Doggone it, why do you have to make this so difficult? I like you. I like you a lot.”
“But aren’t you angry with me? I figured you’d hate me once you found out.”
“To me honest, I’m not thrilled that you’ve written to the judge, but one thing I’ve learned is that there’s no way to go back and change the past. You’ve done it, and it can’t be undone. All we can do now is start from where we are and go on.”
Wasn’t that how Chappell had put it? Start wherever you are.
Right here. Right now.
He didn’t agree with the way Lucille had handled things, but he couldn’t find fault with the care she’d provided for Faith. Instead of the two of them working at cross purposes, the best course of action would be to come together, to search for answers that would give them all what they wanted—a secure future for Faith.
“We want the same thing,” he said, reaching for her hands. “For Faith’s sake, let’s not fight about it.”
She bit her lip, then nodded. “You’re right, of course. For Faith’s sake.”
* * * *
We want the same thing.
Tom’s words echoed in Lucille’s head long after he’d said goodnight and ridden away. He’d been speaking of Faith, of course, but Lucille suspected they shared other desires, as well.
As she pulled the covers up that night, she knew she would dream of the rugged cowboy. Sometime over the last few weeks—she couldn’t say precisely when—dreaming of him had become a nightly occurrence. Each night, the dreams became more heated, more passionate.<
br />
She knew Tom wanted her. The way he looked at her, the way his eyes lingered on her breasts, the way his hooded gaze swept over her narrow waist and flaring hips…all were unmistakable signs of desire.
She wanted him, too.
Once, Lucille had thought him rude, crude, and most ungentlemanly. How mistaken she’d been. Thinking back to the statehood celebration, she marveled at his actions. Most men would have eagerly taken advantage of a woman in her condition. Drunk, unable to protest. He’d had every opportunity to have his way with her.
Instead, he’d treated her with respect, had left her with her virtue intact.
She smiled as she drifted off to sleep, glad that she’d accepted Tom’s invitation to the dance. This time, their night together would end differently, not with Tom tucking her into bed and walking away, but with the two of them sharing passions they’d held inside too long.
It was wrong and Lucille knew it. No decent young woman gave her virtue away before marriage. Yet she would not be swayed by tiresome moral arguments. Life had passed her by, leaving her with longings, and too many unfulfilled hopes and dreams.
She had no real romantic prospects, no expectations of finding a suitable husband and making a good marriage for herself. Yet she yearned to know pleasure, to feel complete as a woman.
Tom alone could give her the happiness she sought. She would entrust her virtue to no other man.
* * * *
Moonlight shimmered through the night. Holding tight to Tom’s hand, Lucille followed him from the social hall. The wine he’d given her had left her slightly giddy and a bit lightheaded, but not so much that she didn’t know what she was about. She was in complete control of her faculties.
Holding his hand, she led him down the street toward the little dressmaking shop. No one would find them there; no one would disturb them. She thought of the little room at the back of the shop. It didn’t have quite all the comforts of home, but it did have a soft feather mattress which she could spread out across the floor. With a little candlelight to enhance the mood, it would be a perfect place for seduction.
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