Suzanne leaned forward, wondering if he was thinking about the overloaded wagon they’d brought on their first trip out.
“If you’re still worrying about making us throw out the trunk that day—we forgave you. Besides, you warned us we were packing too many dresses. And I know it was either that trunk of extra dresses or our trunk of food that had to go. Ma said she could make us more dresses.”
But she never did, Suzanne thought sadly.
Hank shook his head, angrily tapping the ashes from his pipe. “It was the worst thing I ever did. If I hadn’t been mad at the team and the weather and that sorry wagon wheel, I’d never have thrown out those trunks to make it on…”
“Pa, you threw out your trunk with the books and rodeo stuff! Will you stop being a martyr? Besides”—she leaned back, crossing her arms—“let’s just dwell on the good memories. And we have plenty of those.”
He looked across the dwindling fire. “I was blessed to have all those years with your mother. I still miss her, but I thank God for you. You’ve made us both proud.”
She stared at him, suddenly at a loss for words. Her father rarely got sentimental. He looked so frail by the firelight. Suzanne wondered if his compliment was somehow an admission of his own failing health—that he might not be around long enough to say the things he really felt.
“Everything’s going to be all right,” she spoke softly. “I believe that, and you must believe it, too.”
He nodded. “I know.” He stroked his gray beard thoughtfully. “We gotta hold on, keep believing we’ll get all these problems worked out.”
She reached over and touched his hand. “We will work them out, Pa.”
They ate quietly. The past week had begun to take its toll on Suzanne. By the time the water was hot for washing dishes, she was nodding off.
Hank and Luke seemed tired as well, and yet the silence that slipped over them was a contented one as the soft darkness sealed them into a cozy circle near the sputtering campfire.
Hank offered Suzanne the wagon bed, saying he’d spent too many nights sleeping under the stars to pass this one up. She didn’t argue, and she wearily crawled into the wagon bed and was asleep in minutes.
When she rolled over the next morning and peered at the sunlight seeping through the slats of the wagon, she felt a warm joy spreading through her. Why? She sat up, wondering why she felt so happy on this particular morning.
Then, as if in answer, Luke’s voice drifted to her. She heard the pop of the morning campfire and smelled bacon sizzling. Lifting her arms above her head, she stretched lazily. The events of the previous day and evening sifted through her mind, and she smiled to herself. Luke seemed to care for her, and he had been wonderful to Pa. He was exactly what they needed in their lives. If only…
Reaching for her hand mirror, she stared into a pair of shining gray eyes framed by a tousled mass of blond hair. She opened the lid of the trunk, searching for her brush. Underneath the pantaloons, she retrieved the brush and began to rake out the tangles. Once her hair was smooth and gleaming, she decided not to tie it back. She liked the way Luke glanced at her hair. Though he’d never said anything, she had an idea he admired it when she wore it unbound.
She dressed quickly, choosing her blue cotton. Spreading her hands over the skirt, her fingers worked at the wrinkles, trying to smooth them out. After she had done the best she could within the confines of the wagon, she emerged and glanced around.
Pa and Luke sat at the campfire as Luke cooked their breakfast. When Luke spotted her, he nodded politely and inclined his head toward the back of the wagon.
“There’s a pan of water on the tailgate of the wagon,” Luke said, as his eyes swept over her.
“Thank you.” She smiled. “Pa, how do you feel?”
He was perched on the same rock where he had sat the night before, contentedly sipping his coffee.
“Like I could break the wildest mustang in the west!”
Luke grinned at him, and Suzanne merely shook her head as she made her way to the back of the wagon to splash water onto her face.
Just as they had done the previous evening, she and Pa prepared to say grace before eating. Suzanne noticed that Luke did not bow his head, and this made her uncomfortable. Hank seemed not to notice. Perhaps ignoring him was the best way to handle Luke’s strange moods.
Luke ate his food in silence. Suzanne wondered if their prayer had brought on his dark mood. And why? she wondered. She soon gave up trying to start conversation.
After he’d shoved down his meal, Luke hurried to get the team ready to travel. Suzanne met her father’s eyes across the campfire.
“Pa, what’s wrong with him?” Suzanne asked under her breath.
Hank winked at her. “He’s just doing some soul searching. Leave him be.”
“I intend to,” she snapped, hopping up from the campfire and grabbing the dishes to be washed.
Luke’s mood improved once they were on the road and Hank brought up the subject of horses.
“I got a lot of dreams for that little ranch,” Hank said. “There’s wild horses up that canyon behind our house. The mustang I was chasing…” His voice droned on, and Suzanne’s mind wandered. Luke, on the other hand, was mesmerized by the subject of mustangs.
She had given Pa her seat on the wagon and slipped back to tidy up the wagon bed. She knew both she and Luke were facing a challenge once they arrived in Colorado Springs. She and Pa must face the truth about his heart, whatever that was—and Luke would finally confront his father.
A stiffness settled into her shoulders, and she took a deep breath. The next few days could change all of their lives.
She reached into her trunk and pulled out the worn family Bible she had tucked in before leaving. Reverently, she turned the pages, tissue-soft from years of use. She found a comforting chapter in Psalms and began to read. Slowly, the headache that had threatened went away, and she began to relax.
At their lunch break, Suzanna was ready to engage in spirited conversation with her father, while Luke looked as though he needed some time in the bed of the wagon. Occasionally, he rubbed his forehead, as though he might have a headache.
“Wouldn’t you like to grab a quick nap?” she asked, giving him a smile as she washed up the dishes.
He shook his head. “I’ll catch up on my rest once I get back to Kansas.”
The words struck her like a blow, and she turned quickly, scrubbing hard on the eating utensils. What had she hoped for, expected? Whatever it had been, she was obviously dreaming. Luke was determined to go back to Kansas! And why did he keep making a point of it, anyway? Nobody was going to beg him to stay, certainly not her or her pa.
Well, maybe he and his father will patch up their differences, a hopeful voice argued. But what if they did? If he stayed in Colorado Springs, she’d never see him either.
She fought against the depression creeping over her as she packed the cooking utensils beside the first-aid kit in the bed of the wagon. The joy she had felt had been snatched away by Luke’s matter-of-fact statement about returning to Kansas.
Hank was putting out the fire when Suzanne came around the wagon. Their eyes met briefly before she busied herself checking to see that everything was packed. He seemed to sense the tension between her and Luke.
“What if I relieve you driving for a while?” Hank offered as Luke hitched the team to the wagon.
“No, sir. You’d better not strain yourself.” He led Smoky around to the back of the wagon to tether him. “But I wouldn’t mind hearing more stories about those mustangs,” he called back.
That meant Luke wanted her pa to sit on the seat beside him. Well, she could take a hint! She crawled into the bed of the wagon and said nothing more to Luke. If she was not going to be seeing him again, she had to protect herself from any more heartache. The less she had to do with Luke, the better off she would be.
She closed her eyes and tried to sleep as they jostled toward their destiny.
&n
bsp; Colorado Springs had been founded in 1871 by General William Palmer. General Palmer had envisioned Colorado Springs, situated at the base of Pikes Peak, as a resort where the dry air and high altitude would help those suffering from tuberculosis. He further intended this town to be a cultural center, with an opera house, fine dining establishments, and European-style hotels. Mattie had told her all about the town, having wintered here with her husband when they’d first come to Colorado. Then they had decided to migrate south to open the trading post.
“Old Man Palmer had no idea, when he designed the town, that the gold rush and the railroad would bring in so many roughnecks!” Mattie had laughed.
Suzanne found herself missing Mattie. If she was along, she would make them laugh, maybe give her a little advice about how to forget Luke Thomason!
As their wagon clattered down Cascade Avenue, Suzanne stared in awe at the mansions—mostly wood, with a few made of stone. Lace curtains fluttered at the windows, and some of the porches had lovely flower boxes. Someday, she vowed, their ranch house would look like a real home.
She studied the women coming and going. Wearing fancy hats and beautiful dresses, they lolled along the sidewalk, silk parasols in hand, ready to protect their delicate faces if the sun should pop out.
Suzanne shrank back in the wagon, unwilling to be reminded of how little she now owned.
The wagon pulled up before a modest building. Suzanne knew from the conversation between her pa and Luke that this was the office of Dr. Horace Crownover, the physician Doc Browning had arranged for her father to see.
She took a deep breath, forgetting fashion and lovely ladies, and she prayed Dr. Crownover would be able to help Pa.
CHAPTER 16
It could be worse,” the doctor said, adjusting his spectacles. He was scarcely five feet tall; still, he was a commanding presence with snapping hazel eyes and a deep, confident voice. His manner was courteous yet reserved, but Suzanne sensed a razor-sharp intelligence.
She and Hank sat opposite the doctor’s desk, where he was looking over the notes he had made after examining Hank.
“I’ll need to do some more tests before I make any conclusions, Mr. Waters,” Dr. Crownover said. “However, I believe the new medication will help you.”
Hank had scooted to the edge of his seat, awaiting the doctor’s report.
“Do you think I can go on ranching?” He took a deep breath, glancing at Suzanne. “Or is my condition…?”
“With medication, I believe you can go back to a fairly normal life. You may have to alter your activities somewhat.”
Hank frowned at that. “What do you mean?”
The doctor hesitated. “Let’s wait and see what the medication does. I’d like to start you on it right now. I have a few here.” He opened the center drawer of his desk and withdrew a package. “Plan to stay in town for the next few days so we can be sure there are no adverse reactions.”
“Yes, we’ll be here,” Suzanne answered quickly. “We’ll be staying in a boardinghouse on Tejon.”
“Good!” The doctor stood and extended his hand to Hank. “I’d like you to come to the office twice a day.”
It was obvious from Hank’s sullen expression that this suggestion did not appeal to him; however, he kept silent, allowing Suzanne to make the necessary arrangements.
Luke was waiting for them outside the doctor’s office. He had been pacing back and forth on the board sidewalk. When they emerged from the building, he hurried to Suzanne’s side, his blue eyes anxious.
“I think this physician will be able to help Pa,” she said, smiling. “He’s already started him on some medicine.”
“I’m mighty relieved to hear that, Mr. Waters.”
The men exchanged understanding looks. She wondered if Hank had said more about his heart to Luke than to her. She knew he had tried to be brave about this—that he didn’t want to worry her.
“Doc is having a buggy and driver sent over. You coming to the boardinghouse with us?” Hank inquired of Luke. “Mattie telegraphed that friend of hers, and she’s expecting us.”
Luke shook his head. “No. If you want me to put the team up at the livery, I’ll do that. And I reckon we could leave the wagon there, too.” He turned and scanned the busy street. “I have business of my own to take care of now.”
Hank put a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “Is there any way we can help you, son?”
Luke shook his head. “No.”
“Where will you be staying?” Suzanne asked, trying to sound casual. “In case we need you,” she added, looking at Hank.
Luke shrugged. “I’m not sure. The last address I have is from the woman he lived with. I guess I’ll start there.”
Suzanne touched his arm. “I’ll be praying for you.”
He yanked his arm away. “Prayers don’t help me. They didn’t help Ma either. Maybe they work for you people”—his eyes blazed from Suzanne to Hank—“but not for me.”
Suzanne was too shocked to respond, but Hank said, “We’ll see about that, Luke.”
Hank’s voice had a calming effect, and now Luke dropped his head. “I shouldn’t have spoken out in that way. I’m sorry.”
Miss Martha’s Boardinghouse was a two-story, white clapboard building with green shutters and a wide front porch. Rocking chairs were assembled about the porch, lending a homey atmosphere to the place.
Luke had unloaded the wagon, then hastily said good-bye. Suzanne stood in the front door, staring after him with sad eyes while Miss Martha yammered on, giving a lengthy account of her friendship with the Wileys.
“Could we get to our rooms, please?” Hank interrupted her, pressing his hand to his chest.
“Oh. Of course!”
Miss Martha was a small, thin woman with white hair and inquisitive blue eyes. She moved with remarkable speed for her sixty years as she lifted her skirts and crossed the foyer to unlock a door on the right.
“I’ve given you my two front bedrooms, seeing as how you have this weak heart…” she stated.
Hank winced at that, but Suzanne linked her arm through his and smiled up at him. “Pa, I just know Dr. Crownover is going to help you. This medicine will work. I’m confident of that.”
She did feel a confidence in this matter. She just wished now she could stop worrying about Luke.
CHAPTER 17
Luke lingered in front of the livery, giving Smoky a lump of sugar. “That’s your reward for trailing a wagon for two days. Good boy.” He stroked the big stallion’s neck.
He glanced up and down the busy street and told himself he had to get on with the task at hand. He swung into the saddle.
Bennett Avenue. The instructions the blacksmith had given him were easy enough to follow, allowing his mind ample opportunity to reflect on the letter Ma had saved all these years—the only letter they’d received from Pa once he’d come here. Luke had jotted the address down on a slip of paper and that was now the address he was seeking.
He turned down Bennett Avenue and glanced around. It appeared to be a respectable area, although the houses were small and close together. He slowed his horse, finding 708.
It was one of the smallest houses on the street, yet the wood looked to be in good condition, and there were lacy curtains at the front windows.
He sat on Smoky, staring at the house. The curtain fluttered; someone was watching him. He got down from the horse, aware that he must look ridiculous, staring at the house like a simpleton. Before he had made his way up the stone walkway, however, the door had opened and a young woman had stepped out, holding a baby in her arms.
“Hello,” he said, tipping his hat.
“Hello. Are you looking for someone?”
“Matter of fact, I am.” He swallowed, suddenly finding the name difficult to speak. “Luke Thomason.”
She frowned. “Who?”
He repeated the name, though he could tell by the woman’s expression she had never heard of him.
“We’ve lived here for
five years,” she informed him, “but I’ve never heard that name. Before that, another family named Wilkinson owned the house.”
Would his father have changed his name? “Don’t suppose Mr. Wilkinson was from Kansas, was he?”
She quickly shook her head. “No, they came here from Tennessee.”
He glanced toward the other houses. “Do you think it would be all right if I checked with your neighbors?”
She shrugged. “Sure.” Then she turned and went back into the house. He could hear a key locking the door behind him as he turned to leave.
Occupants of the other houses gave him blank stares and shook their heads. Most, he learned, had only lived on the street for the past few years. One woman had offered to check with her elderly father, who was seated in the backyard. Luke had waited outside, nervously twirling his hat between his hands. She had returned, shaking her head, offering no new leads.
“He never heard of him either.”
Luke had thanked her and walked back to Smoky. He climbed back in the saddle and left Bennett Avenue. He had done what he could to find the man who’d abandoned them. His eyes drifted upward, as though speaking to someone in the clouds. “I tried,” he said quietly.
Luke had found a cheap boardinghouse on the outskirts of town. It occurred to him that he seemed to be trying to get as far from Suzanne as he could. And he knew why.
He’d tried to keep a wall built around his heart, but she had managed to knock that wall down with a gentleness he had not believed possible. For the first time in his life, he was a man in love. He had a better understanding of that emotion now. Real love began with friendship, admiring and respecting that person as he had Suzanne. From the beginning, he had been drawn to the delicate features, the thick blond hair, the shining gray eyes; but soon he had moved past that to learn to know the real woman underneath. Here was a woman a man could easily picture as his wife. She was kind and gentle and patient and caring… and still the prettiest woman he had ever known. Maybe it had something to do with the inner beauty that radiated out of those gray eyes.
The Brides of the Old West: Five Romantic Adventures from the American Frontier Page 11