Stolen Little Thing (Little Thing Series Book 1)

by Sasha Gold

  Chapter Twelve

  Nolan wandered the barnyard in the late morning sunshine to await the arrival of the neighbor boys and their families. The day promised fine weather for the painting and the party to follow. Everything was coming together, materials, workers and most importantly the food. Inside, the women finished the last of the cakes and pies, the desserts’ sweet fragrance mingling with the savory aroma coming from the outside pit, where Roberto tended the half a dozen roasting briskets.

  Henry, released from his kitchen duties with Consuelo, was in charge of taking the horses out of their stalls and letting them out in the west pasture. Luke gave him that job, explaining that the horses would be nervous with people working nearby. Henry was anxious to show Luke he was ready to handle the horses and completed the task, a smile of accomplishment across his face.

  Nolan watched Luke survey the large, old barn, studying the structure. The man had been in a foul mood ever since their visit to Rosalind’s the day before, and Nolan wondered if he might have to pull him off Edgar Hubertus sometime over the course of the day. He shuddered. The boys would be shocked if they saw Luke fight. Even he had been disturbed the first time he’d witnessed him in a brawl.

  Loretta approached with a basket of cookies. “I knew I’d find you by the dessert table.”

  “I thought you were going to lay down for a spell?” Nolan frowned at his wife. “You got up before me today. Why don’t you mind me? Ever?”

  “I couldn’t.” Loretta pretended to look indignant. “Why, just thinking that Rosalind is plotting to steal you kept me from nodding off. You know she wants to whisk you off to Rome to help carry her paints.” Loretta rubbed her right temple as she sighed. “It gave me a headache thinking about you covered in pastels.”

  Nolan pulled his wife into his arms, kissed her, not caring that anyone might see. “You know how I’ve always wanted to see the world.”

  “Then you’ll have to take me. If you’re planning a dalliance with her, it’s only fair I be allowed to come along to flirt with the widower brother.”

  Nolan frowned. “It sounds like you’ve given this a little thought, Loretta, kind of ruins my party spirits.”

  Loretta arched her eyebrow. “It serves you right, you old rooster.”

  Nolan held her for a moment longer. “Let’s hope that Luke doesn’t beat the tar out of that man today. He’s in a temper like you’ve never seen. The man made a study of avoiding marriage, and now that he’s hitched, he can’t imagine a life without his better half.”

  Loretta smiled at her husband. She and Nolan had been married almost twenty years that spring, and when she’d first met him, he’d been as wild a bronc as Luke. She gave him a coy look. “You could say that’s what marriage does to folks.”

  Nolan grumbled and pulled her closer. “Woman, don’t give me those eyes when I have so much to do. You know how that works on me. Go now. Sit in the shade, if you insist on being out here and pestering hard-working men.”

  Nolan kissed her on her forehead and gave her a gentle push toward the porch.

  Consuelo trudged out of the kitchen side door, carrying a ceramic pot of her famous pinto beans. She set them on the grill where Roberto manned the fire, cooking the meat and tending to anything Consuelo brought him. Nolan strolled casually over after Consuelo left. He’d seen Roberto take more than a few nips from a bottle in his pocket. Roberto grinned at Nolan, motioned him over with a mischievous nod.

  “What are you up to, you old scoundrel?” Nolan asked, keeping his voice low.

  Roberto reached into his pocket and drew out the bottle filled with tequila. Amber liquid sloshed inside the bottle.

  “Been at it already, amigo? I seen you.” Nolan gave the barnyard a cursory glance as he bit the cork and pulled it from the bottle. Loretta was on the porch, talking to Maria who had brought her a cup of coffee. The rest of the boys were setting up the scaffolding, but most importantly of all, Luke was nowhere in sight.

  Nolan sniffed the bottle and drew a sharp breath. “More than one snort of this will get me into serious trouble.” He grinned at Roberto before taking a swallow. Wincing from the fire in his throat, he coughed and handed the bottle back.

  Roberto held the bottle at eye-level and squinted. “Consuelo takes more than that when she has a sip. Maria too.”

  Nolan wiped tears from his eyes and patted Roberto on the back. “Got to keep my wits about me. I’m much obliged. I might have a little more later on, after we have a little work out of the way.”

  It wasn’t long before the expected guests were heard approaching on the road. The three neighbor families arrived in a caravan of buggies, and Nolan put his fingers to his lips to blow a sharp whistle to alert the boys that their help was needed. They hurried to the guests’ buggies, and the women and children were helped down. Their cookies and sweets, contributions to the feast, were unloaded on the dessert table.

  Each lady brought their very best cakes, cookies, and pies from her repertoire of recipes. Loretta, fortified by coffee, directed the arrangements of tables and chairs. Yellow tablecloths fluttered in the bright sunshine as women gathered to exchange news.

  With the addition of the guests, the work crew’s numbers grew to fourteen. David gathered the boys and divided them into groups and even young Henry was assigned a task of painting the side doors. In the midst of preparations, the approach of Rosalind Duval and her brother stopped conversations and caused each boy to stare at the matched bays trotting into the yard.

  Edgar descended from the buggy to find himself face to face with Roberto and Nolan. Roberto drew a full bottle of tequila from his pocket and thrust it into Edgar’s hands.

  Nolan took the bottle and uncorked it. “Ever tried tequila, Ed?”

  Edgar pulled his coat down and adjusted his cuffs while he smiled at the two men. “No, never.”

  “We better break in this bottle and initiate you then!” The lengthy draught Edgar took startled Nolan, who slapped him on the shoulder.

  “I think you’ve done this a time or two before!” Nolan held up the bottle to show Roberto that a quarter of it was gone.

  “Muy macho,” Roberto exclaimed.

  Nolan laughed. “He says you’re a man’s man. That’s about the highest praise you can get around here. You ready to come help us paint our barn pink?”

  Edgar smiled at his two new friends. “Lead the way, gentlemen. This isn’t the type of painting at which I excel. Normally I use a smaller canvas by far, but I am happy to lend a hand. I am your humble servant.”

  The work progressed over the next two hours. So many painters made short work of the large project. Boys stood on all three levels of scaffolding, already half-way done with the second side of the barn. Initially Edgar was surprised that the painting was not of the variety that he prided himself upon, but later expressed disappointed that the work went so quickly. He grumbled that Rosalind had made them late for the party.

  Henry finished with his doors, wandered past the ladies seated at tables and went over to the barn where Edgar was debating with several of the boys about the precise color of the paint.

  By this time Edgar had more than a few swallows of the tequila. “Pink, my friends is not quite the right word for this color.” He made broad sweeps of his brush across the planks as he balanced on the top scaffold. “Perhaps salmon, or even roseate would be more apt.”

  By late afternoon, three sides of the barn were painted and most of the fourth. Luke wandered the perimeter, avoiding Edgar as much as he possibly could. He wondered if the man had spoken to Esme about Italy. Luke didn’t think she would leave him; at least he was mostly certain of it.

  Edgar began a lecture. “Violins, gentlemen, are like the instrument of God himself. I happen to own one, and shall play one of my better pieces one day for you. My dear wife loved to listen to me play and would occasionally even join me with her piccolo.”

  It wasn’t long before Luke heard him embark on a new speech about fly-fishing which
was followed by a speech about Alpine skiing. He then expounded upon the game of golf, mountaineering, and then he circled back to fishing, saltwater this time.

  Luke gritted his teeth. Was Edgar waiting for just the right moment to approach Esme and spring the topic of a trip to Italy on her?

  Esme mostly sat with the ladies on the other side of the corral, visiting or making trips to the kitchen to see that Consuelo had things under control. Her expression was calm and happy, her step buoyant. Maybe she was thinking of going after all. Maybe she was imagining the sights she’d see and the adventures she’d have. He turned away.

  Luke felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to find her holding a glass of lemonade for him. “Esme, thank you.” He took the glass.

  “You look so angry. Nolan says it’s because of the color of the paint. My mother says you have always looked surly, and Loretta said you probably were just a little thirsty.” She traced her fingers over a strand of hair, brushing it from his eyes. “I never thought you looked surly, only terribly handsome.”

  “I need to have a talk with you,” he said, his voice rough. He drew her past the painters through the doors and into the darkened depths of the barn.

  “We have guests. Can’t this wait?”

  “It will only take five minutes.”

  Esme laughed softly. “In that case, it better wait.”

  “Your mother wants to take you away, to Italy.”

  Esme smiled. “My mother wants a lot of things. She also wants me to make you sign a paper that says you won’t sell the ranch out from under me. She has no shortage of ideas.”

  Clasping her in one arm, and his glass of lemonade in the other, Luke pulled her hard against him, almost off her feet. His kiss was demanding, seeking as much as claiming. When he broke the kiss, his eyes blazed.

  Esme coaxed the glass from his hand and put it on the shelf beside them. “She’ll be gone tomorrow.”

  “It’s better when it’s just us.”

  “It is,” she whispered. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his face. With every kiss she sought to ease his distress, to gentle him.

  “What do you want me to sign?” he asked.

  “Not me, my mother. She thinks you’re going to sell my ranch out from under me. My father said you’d sell it for a dollar.”

  The door to the barn opened and Nolan yelled, “Ya’all cut that out now. There are children present, plus we’re fixing to eat. Consuelo’s waiting on you to say a prayer before she serves.”

  Outside, everyone waited in a circle. Luke took Esme’s hand and said a quick prayer of thanksgiving for the food and the help from the neighbors. Roberto followed with a Spanish prayer, and crossed himself, a grin spreading across his face. “Okay, boss, let’s eat.”

  “One moment.” Edgar waved his hands over his head. “I would like to say something.”

  “Oh, Edgar.” Rosalind sighed audibly. “Please spare us.”

  Nolan looked at Loretta, his eyes signaling the worry that had hounded him all morning. Loretta’s gaze shifted from Edgar, who was red-faced, to Luke who looked thunderous.

  “I know that everyone’s stomach is growling, so I’ll make this short,” said Edgar.

  Rosalind sighed in exasperation. “Don’t believe him. My brother is a windbag.”

  Laughter rippled through the crowd, but Edgar ignored it.

  His cheerfulness was in no way thwarted by Rosalind’s snide remark. He forged on. “Many years ago, I knew Luke Crosby when he was just a young scamp. I must admit that I never thought he would amount to much. I was certain that he was on his way to a life of hard crime, if the truth be told.”

  Nolan kept his gaze fixed on Luke. Esme whispered something to Luke. He pulled her in front of him and draped his arms around her.

  “So, it was with great concern that I met the news of my niece marrying him. I came here today, expecting to find,” Edgar hesitated as he searched for the right word. He swayed a little, the effort of choosing the correct phrase after having indulged in several tequilas, taxing him. “I expected to find a chaotic, unpleasant dwelling, crawling with ragged children. Instead, I have found a beautiful, loving home, not only for Esme, but also for a group of delightful young men. I must say that my niece is quite lucky. I’m not sure why my sister fretted.”

  Rosalind rose and pointed a finger at him. “Edgar, you’re drunk!”

  “That I am. I’m not used to drinking, and I think that I’ve overindulged today. I am most assuredly drunk, Rosalind, but you, my dear, are a fool. And come morning, I’ll be sober, and you will still be an insufferable fool.”

  Shocked silence followed. Consuelo covered her mouth with her hand to conceal her amusement, an effort that proved to be futile as her laughter spilled out.

  Nolan raised his hands. “Are we going to have a fight in the corral between brother and sister or are we going to eat some of this good food?” He offered a hand to Rosalind and drew her from her chair. Rosalind’s glare softened with Nolan’s words, but her chin remained obstinately tilted as he escorted her to the front of the line. He insisted she be the first to partake of the feast.

  Lunch was served: Consuelo’s famous beans, brisket, salads and freshly baked bread. Latticed topped pies like so many jewels lined the table beside cakes and trays of cookies.

  The sun descended. Nolan sat back in his chair pleased with the day. He stroked Loretta’s shoulder as she talked with Rosalind and a somewhat-tipsy Edgar. Aside from a little unpleasantness, the day had gone well. By the end of the meal, Rosalind and her brother had reconciled. The barn was painted without incident. Luke looked relaxed and happy with his wife smiling by his side. One of the neighbors, Mr. Becker, had brought his fiddle and promised to play, which presented a slight hitch in Nolan’s plans for a game of poker, but would make Loretta happy. She might even want to dance.

  Even Luke and Edgar enjoyed a civil conversation about the painting project. Edgar wanted to paint the inside of the barn and suggested different colors that would be compatible with the outside shade.

  Only Henry looked unhappy. “What’s the trouble, Henry?” Nolan asked.

  “I can’t find Lilac anywhere.”

  Nolan knit his brow. “Lilac? Is that the barn cat?”

  “Lilac is my cat. She’s supposed to have her babies soon. She was in the barn but now it smells like paint. What if she ran away because it stinks?”

  Joseph looked up from his slab of chocolate cake. “I saw her around the cabin a little while ago.”

  Nolan made a face. “That cabin can’t smell better than the barn. You boys need to air it out once in a great while. It’s rank.” He shuddered and poured himself a glass of sweet tea.

  But Henry paid no attention to Nolan’s admonition and trotted off to the cabin without a word.

  The cabin, a converted hay shed, had a sloping roof that needed to be replaced, and that, Nolan thought, ought to be the next project. With the income from recent cattle sales, Luke had even spoken of tearing it down and building something larger, more permanent, out of limestone similar to the main house. When Eleanor Crosby first took Luke in, he’d lived in the main house from the beginning. But soon after, she’d made it her mission to offer room to any boy that needed a home, and the cabin had been pressed into service. Now it was both run-down and too small for the growing number of boys.

  The sound of arguing snapped Nolan’s attention back to the party. Esme was explaining for the second or third time how she wouldn’t be accompanying her mother anywhere. Lord, that Rosalind is tenacious, Nolan thought. She was like a terrier he’d had once and hadn’t missed when it went to greener pastures. He’d advised Luke that morning; Rosalind was proving to be a more obstinate than she had a right to be. If she wanted to travel, Luke ought to offer to help her pack.

  Her brother on the other hand, was all right, Nolan decided. Edgar spent the better part of the morning explaining still life drawing to Joseph and David as they painted. The boys had been atten
tive and asked intelligent questions. Edgar’s descriptions about art classes where he and other students had drawn, of all things, nude women got their attention. It was a notion which had the boys so interested they’d forgotten the task before them and stood slack-jawed as their paintbrushes dripped, staring at Edgar in disbelief until Luke had hollered for them to get back to work.

  The sun sank in the sky, setting the horizon ablaze, and Paul Becker took out his fiddle. Nolan kissed his wife’s hand. “I think I need a dance with my bride,” he whispered.

  Loretta rose to her feet and looked through lowered lashes. “Why Nolan, I do believe you’re the biggest flirt in Honey Creek.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Luke lay sprawled across the bed he shared with his Esme. He propped his head on his hand, and studied his wife’s reflection in the vanity mirror. What he saw in the mirror put a smile on his face. “Why Esme Louise, you bathe in the nude?”

  Esme, toweling off after her bath, shot him a playful but chastising look. “Can’t a girl get a little privacy around here?” She surprised herself by the way she had adapted to so little modesty.

  Luke grinned, “No, ma’am. No privacy at all allowed for my bride. You’re lucky I let you wear your nightgown to bed.”

  She dropped her towel and donned her flannel gown with as much haste as she could muster. She ignored his low whistle as she combed her damp hair. It pleased her to see Luke stretched across their bed, bare-chested with a splotch of the pink barn paint staining his forearm. He yawned and closed his eyes, before laying his head on the pillow. He spoke in a low, drowsy voice, “Dern that Roberto. He convinced me to drink a couple of shots of tequila. That stuff makes me sleepy.” He raised his head to look at her, “What’s taking you so long?”