KeepingFaithCole

by Christina Cole

  Holding Faith close and rocking the child as she walked, Lucille paced the floor of her little parlor late on Friday night. Nothing she did soothed the fussy little girl.

  Teething. No need to be concerned. That’s what Amanda Phillips had said in her most reassuring voice. She’d dropped in earlier with both of her daughters, Kat and Emily Sue. Lucille had enjoyed the visit, and she’d bid goodbye to her friends with a definite sadness. Now, she faced another long, lonely night, and nothing caused a woman’s heart to ache more than the cries of a sick baby.

  Nothing—except maybe an unfaithful husband.

  Tom hadn’t come home yet.

  Lucille knew exactly where he was. The Red Mule saloon. Earlier, Emily Sue Phillips had let that bit of information slip. Of course, the pretty seventeen-year-old already had a reputation as a nuisance and a trouble-maker. The sweet little blonde thrived on stirring things up.

  Kat had thrown her sister a fierce look, a clear warning to keep quiet, and not long afterward, their mother had bustled up both of her daughters and insisted it was time for them all to be getting home.

  Time for Tom to be getting home too.

  Lucille sighed. At least little Faith had closed her eyes now and drifted off to sleep. The stillness, however, only made Lucille’s loneliness more acute. She could practically hear the frantic thoughts pounding through her head.

  Questions, questions, questions! Who was Tom with? What was he doing? Most painful of all were the whys. Why couldn’t he love her? Why wouldn’t he forgive her? Why wouldn’t he come to her and take her to his bed again?

  She waited up until almost midnight. Finally she headed for bed and once again cried herself to sleep.

  * * * *

  Bacon frying and coffee brewing on the stove.

  As the delicious aromas wafted into his room, Tom opened his eyes. A slow, easy smile slid across his face. One of these mornings, he should tell Lucille how much he liked her cooking, especially the hearty breakfasts she served. He knew that when he went into the kitchen, he’d find not only bacon, but a plate of biscuits along with a tub of sweet, freshly-churned butter. Eggs, too. Over easy. Just the way he liked.

  He should tell her, too, that he was sorry for the rift between them. He’d hoped to teach her a lesson and help her see that throwing tantrums wasn’t the best strategy to employ, but she’d proved more stubborn than he’d expected. Sleeping alone for the past week, he’d come to realize how much he loved Lucille. He was almost, but not quite, ready to declare his feelings. He needed a little encouragement from her.

  “Morning,” he called when he stepped into the kitchen. Lucille stood at the stove, her back to him. She didn’t respond to his greeting. “Excuse me,” he said, coming up behind her. “Shouldn’t a good wife listen when her husband talks to her?”

  Her breath came out in a huff, and she whirled around. “Don’t start it, Tom.”

  “Start what?”

  “I’m in no mood for any of your jokes.”

  “So I see. Confound it, but what’s got your panties in such a wad this morning?” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Is it that time of the month or what?”

  She sucked in another deep breath. “How dare you speak to me about something so…so…personal. It’s none of your business,” she snapped, turning back to the stove.

  “I don’t necessarily agree with you on that, but never mind. Under the circumstances, it’s not worth arguing over.” His good mood draining away, he retreated to the table, pulled out a chair, and settled into it. “How’s the weather look?”

  Lucille shrugged. “How am I supposed to know?”

  “Well, you could open the door and check.”

  “Is there some reason you can’t do it yourself?”

  “Fine.” Tom got up, opened the back door, and peered out. “You sure as hell wouldn’t know it from the way things are going inside this kitchen, but I suspect this is going to turn out to be a nice day. A good day for catching horses, at least.”

  “That’s all you ever think of, isn’t it?” Lucille carried a plate of eggs to the table. “You’ll be gone again all day, Faith and I will be home alone, and it’s obvious you don’t care about either one of us.”

  His jaw dropped. “Honey, everything I do is for you and Faith.”

  “Right. That’s why you’ve moved us all the way out here, hours from town, and then you go off day after day, chasing after wild horses, or so you say.”

  “What are you getting at?” His eyes narrowed.

  “I don’t think it’s horses you’re chasing, Tom Henderson. And don’t talk to me about how worn out you’ve been from building corrals or whatever else you claim to have been doing.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  Taking his seat again, he followed suit and crossed his arms. Two could play this game. “If you’ve got something on your mind, woman, speak up, damn it.”

  “Watch your language. I don’t want Faith to hear that sort of talk.”

  “She’s still sleeping, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, of course, but cursing is a bad habit. You need to learn to control it…along with a few other urges.” Lucille moistened her lips, then lowered her gaze. “Where were you last night?”

  He’d been with Goose and Ignacio going over their final plans. They’d had a few drinks, and he’d gotten home later than he’d intended, but no reason to make a big deal over it. He picked up a fork, stabbed at the eggs, then pushed the plate aside. He’d lost his appetite. One thing he would not tolerate was a jealous shrew of a wife who didn’t trust him out of her sight.

  “I don’t see where it’s any of your business.” He pushed out his chair and got to his feet.

  “I’m your wife, Tom,” she said. He sensed that it took great effort for her to keep her voice controlled. “I have a right to know where you go.”

  “Oh, darling,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Don’t be talking to me about rights. A husband ought to have a few rights, too, but you don’t seem to have any problem denying me my marital privileges.”

  “Is that why you’re chasing after those saloon girls?” The words shot out in a strident staccato. Lucille’s body shook from top to toe.

  Too angry to deny her accusations, Tom remained silent.

  “I know you went to the Red Mule last night.”

  “You’re right.”

  “And I’m not a fool. I can guess what you were doing there.”

  “Guess all you want, honey.”

  “Which one are you…doing it with, Tom?” She choked back sobs.

  He grinned. “What makes you think I’d settle for one? I’m a man with big appetites.” He stared down at the breakfast table, regretting that he couldn’t manage to swallow even a bite of the fine meal Lucille had fixed.

  “No wonder I can’t satisfy you.”

  Tom grabbed her elbow as she turned away. “Since when have you bothered to try?”

  “Let go of me.”

  He released her and stepped back. “Sorry, darling. I forgot how much you hate my touch.”

  “You come to me after you’ve been with those cheap floozies at the saloon? You dare lay a hand on me? Just get out of my sight, Tom. I’ve got no use for you. You’ve brought me and Faith out here to this sorry excuse for a horse farm, and don’t tell me things are going to get better. They’re not. We’re as poor as Job’s turkey, yet you think it’s fine to spend what little money we have on whiskey and other women.” She turned and glared at him. “I’m sorry I married you.”

  “It was your idea, darling. I tried to talk you out of it.”

  “I should have listened.” She stormed toward the stairway. “I’ve had enough. I’m taking Faith, and I’m leaving you. And this time, I’m not letting you stop me, so don’t even try.”

  Tom shook his head. To think, a short time earlier, he’d been ready to declare his undying love for this woman. The barrage of insults she’d hurled at him cut him to the quick. All his efforts had been in v
ain. Lucille would never love him. Maybe the best thing would be to let her go. Maybe, in time, he’d get over it. Maybe the hurting would eventually go away.

  “Suit yourself.” He shrugged and headed for the door, but his pride wouldn’t let him walk away so easily. “I don’t need you, Lucille, so just get the hell out of my life and leave me alone.”

  “What about Faith? I’m taking her with me.” Lucille came after him as he opened the door. “Don’t you care?”

  Once more, she was bluffing, Tom knew. She had no intentions of leaving him. For her sake, he almost wished she would. Maybe at least one of them could be happy. But he had too much else on his mind to deal his wife’s manipulations. After coming home so late last night, he’d gotten little sleep, and he had a hell of a long day ahead of him.

  Ignoring Lucille, he returned to the kitchen, stuffed a few biscuits and a bit of beef jerky into a cloth sack, then headed for the barn. Once he’d saddled Dandy, he thought about going back inside, maybe even apologizing, but damn it, the morning would be all but gone before he met up with Goose and Ignacio. It was nearly a two-hour ride to the valley where they’d seen the horses.

  We’ll talk later.

  He glanced toward the back door, saw no sign of Lucille watching, and with a lonely, unsettled feeling, he swung up into the saddle and rode off toward the west.

  * * * *

  Lucille busied herself at the kitchen sink, scraping away the eggs Tom had left on the plate. For once, she was not going to stand at the window watching as he rode off. Neither was she going to keep an eye on the door, waiting for him to return. She had too much to do to waste even a single moment.

  With the dishes finished, she hurried to the little room where Faith slept.

  “Well, little one, let’s get this day started,” she said as she lifted Faith from her crib.

  “Da-da?” Faith turned her head from side to side. “Da-da?”

  “Don’t worry about your Da-da. He’ll be back later,” Lucille snapped. Immediately she felt contrite. She didn’t mean to speak so roughly, but after that awful row she’d had with Tom, her emotions were raw. Faith’s unconditional love for the man she called her Da-da, cut into Lucille’s heart. She loved him, too, but knew she’d finally pushed him over the brink. Whereas Faith would have his undying love, Lucille had lost any chance of ever having a happy marriage.

  But she would not leave her husband. She’d taken a vow when she’d married him, and she meant to see it through.

  For better. For worse.

  Already breaking her rule about not watching, she carried Faith to the window and stared out toward the west where the distant peaks of the mountains glistened in the early morning light.

  “You’d like for me to leave, wouldn’t you” she asked aloud. “Well, I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here, and we’ll just have to make the best of it.” She hugged Faith close. “Isn’t that right, baby girl?”

  Faith’s playful giggles were contagious. The happy sound lifted Lucille’s spirits. Her own renewed determination helped brighten her mood, as well. She and Tom had married for the best reason of all—love. It wasn’t the love of a man and woman for one another, but a deeper, stronger sort of love. They had married because of their love for Faith. Now, despite the problems between them, that love would keep them together.

  Putting aside any troubling thoughts, Lucille set about her busy day. After washing, dressing, and feeding Faith, she carefully assembled pillows, blankets, and the toddler’s favorite toys, and set her on the rug in the parlor. It was already the first week of April, and Lucille hadn’t yet finished the spring cleaning. She’d made a start, but her list of things to do was far from complete. Today, she planned to pull everything out of the cupboard, line the shelves with fresh paper, then reorganize the contents more efficiently. Next, she’d give all the pots, pans, and even her set of good dishes, a thorough washing. She’d polish the silver, too, if time allowed.

  But an hour later, despite her good intentions, she’d made no real progress. Faith kept crawling across the floor to get in the way. She lifted her arms, wanting to be picked up and held. She didn’t understand the importance of cleaning away the soot, grease, and grime of winter. All that mattered to her was getting a little attention.

  “How am I ever going to get my work finished?” Lucille bent down and swept Faith up.

  The sound of a wagon pulling into the front yard caught Lucille’s attention. It wasn’t Tom, of course. Her mother would be in town at the shop, so she wouldn’t be coming to call.

  Which left only one other logical possibility.

  Lucille threw open the door and sighed. “Good morning, Charlotte,” she said as her mother-in-law climbed down from the wagon. In her hands she held a small basket covered with a gingham cloth. Lucille eyed it with a mixture of surprise and misgivings.

  “What have you got there?”

  “Cookies.” She stayed close beside the wagon. “Lucille, please, let me come in. We need to talk.”

  “About what?”

  “About everything. About all that’s wrong between us.”

  One sharp retort after another lined up, ready to shoot out of Lucille’s mouth, but the honesty in her mother-in-law’s eyes made it impossible for her to say a word.

  Charlotte hefted the basket. “Lemon cookies. They’re still warm.” She stood before Lucille as though waiting to be sentenced—or pardoned.

  In a moment of graciousness, Lucille stepped forward. “Here, take Faith. I’ll carry the basket.”

  With awkward movements, the two women managed to exchange the burdens they carried. Faith was safely shifted from one set of arms to another, and the basket of cookies was transferred without being dropped.

  “I’ll set these in the kitchen.”

  “Wait, hear me out first.” Charlotte’s gaze didn’t waver. “I know what you think of me, but I’m going to show you that I can change. I have changed,” she corrected. She hugged Faith closer. “I’ll do whatever I must, Lucille. I want to be with my grandbaby. Please give me another chance.”

  The woman looked every bit the loving grandmother she longed to be and Lucille silently chastised herself for the unkind thoughts she harbored. Her husband was right; she insisted on thinking the worst of his mother.

  “Yes, of course. Please, come inside.”

  “Thank you.”

  Charlotte followed close behind as Lucille stepped inside and hurriedly brushed a few breakfast crumbs from the old tablecloth.

  “You’ll have to excuse the mess. I was attempting a bit of spring cleaning. I’m afraid I haven’t accomplished much this morning. It’s not easy to keep a tidy home with a little one toddling around.”

  “Let me help,” Charlotte suggested. “I’ll keep an eye on Faith. And maybe you and I can have a pleasant little chat while you’re working.”

  “That would be helpful, indeed.” Lucille wasn’t sure what she and her mother-in-law might chat about, but she was grateful to the woman for looking after Faith.

  Charlotte, however, had no shortage of topics to discuss. She babbled excitedly about Faith’s first birthday which would be coming up soon. She’d been saving her pennies, she said, hoping to buy a pair of shoes for her baby, and she wondered, too, if Lucille could find patience enough to help her with her knitting. She’d seen a pattern in a ladies’ magazine for an adorable child’s hat, and maybe Lucille could recommend the right type of wool?

  Did Lucille happen to know any herbs to treat rheumatism? What was the best method for dyeing fabric? Would that fancy Castile soap from the mercantile really help prevent wrinkles?

  On and on, questions tumbled out of the woman’s mouth. Questions about cooking, questions about sewing and the latest fashions, questions about all the things ordinary women asked one another, the sort of questions and easy conversation shared between friends.

  All the while, Charlotte bounced Faith playfully on her lap, and the little girl’s sweet laughter fille
d the air.

  The obvious changes in her mother-in-law surprised Lucille but impressed her, as well. At times, she nearly laughed at Charlotte’s exuberance; now and then, she almost cried as tears of genuine joy welled in her eyes.

  This is how it’s supposed to be.

  It was a portent, she decided, a sign of all that could be—all that would be. As soon as Tom came home, she would throw herself into his arms and ask his forgiveness. Never again would misunderstandings—or her own foolishness—come between them.

  “Don’t you think it’s time for a break, Lucille?” Charlotte asked a few hours later. “You’ve been working all morning.”

  “It would be nice to sit for a spell,” Lucille agreed, but instead of taking a seat, she went to the stove. “First, let me put on a pot of coffee, then let’s open that basket of cookies, shall we?”

  Charlotte’s smile warmed Lucille’s heart. “Yes, let’s have a plate of cookies, but instead of coffee, do you have any fresh, cold milk?”

  “I do.” Lucille turned toward the door. “The milk is in the spring house. I’ll get it.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The skies remained gloomy throughout the morning, with thick clouds obliterating most of the sun and making it hard to reckon time. When Tom and the two men with him reached the western ridge, he figured it must be nearly noon. All was going according to plan.

  From that vantage point, his vision swept across the floor of the valley spread out below them. His heart pounded at the thrilling sight. For as far as he could see, wild horses grazed the grassy prairie, as impossible to count as the stars in the night sky. An awed silence settled over the men. For several moments, no one said a word.

  “What is the plan, señor? How can the three of us handle so many horses?”

  “We knew there were probably a lot of wild horses down there in that valley, but we didn’t come here with intentions of catching them all. Keep that in mind.” Greed had a way of making men forget the best-laid plans. He lifted the reins, ready to ride.