by Stacy Henrie
She paused near the field to catch her breath and to ease the aching in her foot. All right, so maybe it wasn’t completely healed. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t rested it. She had. But she was anxious to see the planting completed in a timely manner. Tex had committed to seeing it through, and yet, Ravena couldn’t help wondering if he would really do it or if he’d grow tired of the endless work. He wasn’t getting paid after all.
Catching sight of her, Jacob waved. Ravena pushed aside the pain in her foot and shifted her load to wave back. Tex slowly straightened, his gaze capturing hers from across the field. Her pulse picked up tempo, though she wasn’t sure if it was out of concern that he’d see through her plan or out of awareness of him.
“I’ve brought lunch,” she called as she shuffled forward.
They both approached, wiping at their foreheads with their bandannas. “We could have come to the house for it, like we’ve been doing,” Tex said, throwing a level look her way.
Ravena shrugged. “I decided I could use a little air.” Which was also the truth. She took a seat on the ground and they followed suit. “Eat up. There’s plenty.”
“Looks delicious, Miss Ravena,” Jacob said, pulling things from the lunch pails.
Arching an eyebrow, Tex made slow work of spreading out his lunch. “It does look good. Smells good too. And all my favorite foods.”
She felt a blush steal over her cheeks. “Well, you’re both working hard. How’s the planting going?” She glanced past Tex to the field, eager for something else to focus on.
“It’s going well, same as I told you last night.” He’d been giving her an update each evening at supper.
Ignoring his pointed remark, she steered the discussion to other things. Jacob tossed in a comment or two, but he mostly just ate. Tex took his time eating, though he did keep up his end of the conversation, sprinkling it with liberal compliments about her food.
Ravena smiled. Her plan was working.
Once they had both finished eating, they gathered up what little remained of the food as well as the napkins. “Thanks again for lunch, Ravena.” Tex climbed to his feet, then helped her stand as well. Hoisting the lunch pails, he extended them toward her.
“I...um...” She gestured toward the field. “I thought since I’m out here and don’t need to start supper for a while longer that I might help.”
Tex set the pails back down. “No.”
She shot Jacob a firm glance when he snickered. “What do you mean, no?”
“Is your foot fully healed?” He fell back a step, motioning for Jacob to join him.
“It’s much better. I only have to rest it a few times a day now.”
Shaking his head, Tex turned and led Jacob back toward the field. “Then the answer is still no,” he said over his shoulder.
Ravena balled her hands into fists at the realization that he’d known exactly what she was doing, plying him with his favorite foods to soften him up. “Tex Beckett, this is not your farm. I can work in my field if I want to, with or without your permission.”
“Is that so?” He spun back, a surprisingly gentle expression on his face. “And what will you do if your foot doesn’t heal properly? How will you manage things then?”
His words stole the bluster from her anger. He was right. But she wouldn’t let him see that. “I’ll be fine for one afternoon.” She limped forward.
Tex blocked her way. “So help me, Ravena, if you step into this field on that injured foot, I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and carry you back to the house.”
“You wouldn’t dare...”
But the amusing look in his blue eyes and his smug grin told a different story, even before he leaned close to say, “I would.”
Ravena narrowed her eyes at him. “Fine.” Scooping up the lunch pails, she hobbled away with all the dignity she could muster. She was more than frustrated at him and her ankle was throbbing.
Deep down, though, she felt a splinter of disappointment that he hadn’t thrown her over his shoulder and carried her to the house after all. The idea sounded far from unpleasant. It actually sounded fun. And that realization scared her as much as his words about running the farm alone with an improperly healed foot. Because whatever happened, she could not—would not—fall for Tex a second time.
Chapter Nine
Two weeks after her sly attempt to help with the planting, Ravena woke in the night to the sound of crying. After wrapping a shawl over her nightgown, she hurried to light a lamp, then padded down the hall to the girls’ bedroom. She found Ginny sitting up in bed, her thin arms hugging her knees, her cheeks tearstained.
“Oh, Ginny.” Ravena set the lamp on the bureau and sat beside the weeping girl. “Was it another bad dream?”
Ginny gave a wordless nod.
Gathering the girl into her arms, she rocked her back and forth, just as her grandmother had done whenever Ravena had a nightmare. Movement at the open door drew her attention. She was surprised to see Tex standing there. Ginny’s crying must have woken him too.
“I heard a noise,” he said, keeping his voice low in consideration for Fanny, who still slept soundly in the other bed. “Is Ginny all right?”
Ravena eased back to smooth the girl’s red hair from her face. “She had a bad dream.”
Stepping into the room, Tex crouched beside the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked Ginny.
She looked to Ravena who nodded encouragement. But would the girl actually share her dream with Tex? Both Ravena and her grandfather had tried to explain that talking about her fears might help, but Ginny refused. It had been several months since the girl had last had a bad dream, and Ravena had hoped that meant they were gone altogether. Apparently that wasn’t the truth though.
“I was havin’ a bad dream too.” Tex leaned forward as if confiding a great secret. “I dreamed Mark and Luke made me supper, which they said I could only eat on the roof with the cow for company.”
A tiny smile appeared on Ginny’s lips.
Tex shook his head with mock severity and Ravena had to tamp down a chuckle at his performance. “The cow didn’t like the biscuits they made, so it kicked them off the roof. And I was so hungry, I jumped down to grab them. Then I woke up.”
Ginny’s smile widened a little more.
“Now that you’ve heard my dream, what do you say about sharing yours?”
Ravena held her breath as the girl fiddled with the bed quilt. After a moment, Ginny glanced at Tex and whispered, “Okay.” Then she shot Ravena a hesitant look. “Can I just tell it to Mr. Beckett first?”
Her desire to hear and comfort Ginny quickly gave way to gratitude that at least the girl was willing to open up to Tex. Ravena wanted to hug him. Instead she exchanged a smile with him and stood. “That would be just fine, Ginny. Let’s all go downstairs. I’ll make some tea, to help you get back to sleep. And you two can talk in the parlor.”
She took Ginny’s hand in her own, then picked up the lamp. They walked out of the room, Tex coming behind them. When they reached the parlor, Ravena motioned for Ginny to take a seat.
“Thank you for telling her that story,” she said softly to Tex.
His gaze appeared bright with amusement in the lamplight. “What do you mean ‘story’? That was a bona fide dream I had.” He bent toward her and lowered his voice, causing her pulse to trip. “Only I dreamt it last night instead of tonight.”
Her answering chuckle sounded more nervous than merry in her ears. Ravena passed him the lamp and took a deliberate step toward the kitchen. “I’ll make that tea, while you talk to her.”
If Tex noticed her flustered manner, he didn’t comment. To her great relief. Instead he walked into the parlor, set down the lamp and pulled one of the armchairs in front of the sofa where Ginny now sat.
�
�How does the dream start?” he asked in a kind tone.
Ravena made herself walk away, though she wanted to stick around. Not only to hear what Ginny would say but to watch Tex. She was finding it harder and harder to steel herself against her growing affection for him. It had been blossoming ever since he’d agreed to help with the planting. And seeing him, once again, respond to the children and to her in that gentle, teasing, caring manner of his only increased her attraction for him.
Which will only lead to trouble, she reminded herself as she lit another lamp in the kitchen and set about making the tea. If only she would listen to that rational part of her. But tonight, working together like this to help one of the children, she found she wanted these moments to continue for a very long time.
* * *
“It always starts with me in the cabin,” Ginny said, her voice soft and tinged with pain.
Tex rested his arms on his knees, to show he was listening. He’d felt as surprised as Ravena had looked when the girl agreed to talk about her dream with him, but he was determined not to let either Ginny or Ravena down.
“Who’s there with you?”
Ginny drew her legs up underneath her long nightgown. “It’s me and my ma and pa at first. But then Mama waves goodbye and disappears out the door.”
Sadness began to well up inside Tex. The words were more than he’d ever heard Ginny speak at one time, and yet, they were so full of grief. “Where does your mother go?”
The girl’s eyes glittered with more tears. “She got sick and died.”
Tex cleared his throat. “I’m real sorry, Ginny. You must miss her.” He still missed his mother. And he knew how helpless it felt to watch a loved one slowly lose a fight with illness. “What happens next in the dream?”
“Pa kneels by my bed and says he has to go too.” A shudder ran through her and she folded her arms tightly. “I beg him to stay, Mr. Beckett,” she said, her voice wobbling with emotion. “But he keeps saying no. Now that Mama’s gone, he can’t stay.”
Tex lowered his gaze to his hands and squeezed them together. Ginny’s story inspired painful memories of his own. And he realized this wasn’t just a dream for her; this was something Ginny had actually experienced. “So does he go?”
“Yes.” When he lifted his chin, he saw the tears rushing down her cheeks. “He tells me our neighbor will come take care of me. But I didn’t like Mrs. Goff. She was mean and would always say my pa was a no-account and that Mama and me were better off without him.”
“Then what happens?”
Ginny hung her head so he had to bend forward to hear what she said next. “I beg and cry and tell Pa not to leave. And he says, ‘Stop crying.’ So I do, but he still walks out the door.” Tex reached forward and clasped her hand in his, sensing the next part wouldn’t be any less difficult to share. “Then I’m all alone and crying and Mrs. Goff comes and she has a wagon. She tells me, ‘Climb in,’ but I can’t, Mr. Beckett. I can’t.”
“Is there someone already in the wagon?”
Ginny nodded vigorously and lifted her eyes to his. Her tortured look reminded him of what he’d felt after his own father failed to return after that last disappearance. “My pa is there, in the wagon, but he’s dead too.”
Giving her hand a squeeze, Tex coughed again to dislodge the solid lump in his throat. “What happened to him in real life?”
Her shoulders rose and fell. “I don’t know. When the sheriff found him near the gulch the day after he left, he was already dead.” Tex guessed the man had likely drunk himself to death after losing his wife.
“That’s awful, Ginny.” He wished there was more he could say. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to go with Mrs. Goff or get in the wagon.”
“But why did Pa leave, Mr. Beckett?” Her plaintive tone tore at his heart. “Is it because I didn’t stop crying fast enough?”
The question prompted further memories, ones he’d suppressed years ago. Tex could recall how he and Tate had asked their mother nearly the same thing Ginny was asking him now. What had they done to make their father leave?
“Will you listen real hard to what I’m going to tell you?” Tex waited for her to nod before continuing. “All right. I’m going to share a secret with you.”
Her green eyes lit with mild interest.
“Your pa was every bit as ill as your mama.”
She cocked her head. “He was?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t an illness you could see with your eyes or hear with your ears.” He pointed to his chest with his finger. “It happens in your heart, and it’s pretty hard to make it get better. And it isn’t something a little girl can help with all by herself.”
Ginny’s brow furrowed in thought. “So he left because he was sick too? And not because of me?”
“His leaving had nothing to do with you,” Tex stated firmly, his gaze locked on hers. “And nothing you could have done to help him would have made him well again, Ginny. He had to choose to get better himself.”
The girl bolted forward and wrapped her arms around Tex’s neck. “He didn’t leave because of me,” she repeated, this time in a whisper, but her voice rang with conviction.
Tex couldn’t have spoken if he’d wanted to. Tears brimmed his own eyes as he hugged her back. Could the same be true for him? he wondered. He knew without a doubt that Ginny wasn’t responsible for her father’s leaving. But wasn’t that also the truth for him and Tate and their father? They weren’t responsible for his leaving either.
Some of the hardness that had collected around his heart over the last two decades, since his own father’s leaving, chipped off.
“Feel any better?” he asked when Ginny eased back.
A rare full smile brightened her entire face. “Yes.”
“Come get some tea,” Ravena announced from the hallway. “It’s ready.”
Tex pushed back his chair and stood, offering Ginny the crook of his arm. “Shall we take our tea now, my lady?”
She giggled—another rarity for Ginny—and slipped her arm in his. As he guided her down the hall to the kitchen, the tinkle of her laughter followed them.
* * *
In spite of drinking some of Ravena’s tea himself, Tex didn’t feel sleepy. Not with Ginny’s story—and its similarities to his and Tate’s experiences—still running through his mind. After Ginny and Ravena had gone back upstairs, he’d wandered outside and took his customary seat on the step, his back against one of the porch columns. This was becoming one of his favorite spots to think. The cool night felt pleasant, though he sensed the coming of summer in the air.
He could hardly believe he’d been here five weeks. In some ways he felt as if he’d been here longer—this was certainly the longest he’d spent in one place since leaving Idaho—and yet he also felt as if it had only been a matter of days since he’d come to the farm.
A lamp in one hand, Ravena joined him outside, which didn’t surprise Tex in the least. She’d likely sensed his ruminating all the way upstairs.
“Do you think Ginny will get back to sleep?” he asked.
“Yes.” Ravena shivered and held the ends of her shawl closer together. “She told me about her dream.”
Tex nodded. “I think it’s more than a dream. She’s likely reliving her experience of losing both her parents.”
“I agree,” she said, moving to stand beside the other porch column. “Thank you for your help, Tex. I could tell she still felt sad when she told me what she’d dreamt, but she wasn’t terrified. Not anymore.”
“I’m glad.” He lifted his knee and placed his elbow there, feeling gratitude that he’d been able to help Ginny. “She thought it was her fault that her father left after her mother died.”
Ravena’s eyes widened above the light of the lamp. “That breaks my heart to hear.”
“I don’t think she still feels that way.” He described how he’d explained to Ginny what had ailed her father and why he’d left.
“You have a way with the children,” she said, her tone full of sincerity.
The compliment pleased him, even as a bit of sadness settled deep inside him at the thought of saying goodbye to these five children who he’d come to care for. And to Ravena too.
“It’s funny how I thought the same thing about my own father leaving. That somehow it was my fault.” He shrugged, trying to recall his boyhood thoughts. “I guess I believed if I’d liked farming more or hadn’t gotten into so much mischief or done the chores without asking that he wouldn’t have left for good.”
Ravena sat, setting the lamp between them. “That doesn’t sound funny to me at all. You and Tate were children, Tex, same as Ginny. You were looking for answers and explanations you could understand, which is natural. But you weren’t any more responsible for your father leaving than Ginny was for hers.”
The realization filled him with as much relief and hope as he’d seen on Ginny’s face in the parlor earlier. He wanted to shout his happiness to the stars.
But memories of his father spurred other recollections, ones that didn’t leave him feeling so happy. “I may not be responsible for his leaving, but the fact is he did leave and that last time he didn’t come back. My mother was never the same after that.” Neither were he and Tate. That experience had shaped all three of them, for better or worse.
Pushing the lamp out of the way, Ravena scooted closer. “I didn’t understand back then how hard that was, Tex. And I wish I had.”
“You were just a kid too,” he reminded, shooting her half a smile.
She might not remember giving him a hug the day he’d confessed to her that he didn’t think his pa was coming back, but Tex remembered. It was the day he’d first recognized he was in love with Ravena Reid. But he’d worried then that a poor, fatherless boy might not be worthy of her. That fear hadn’t disappeared over the years.