The Measure of a Man Page 8

  Adam shook his head stubbornly. “I won’t try to be something I’m not, just to get her to notice me. I’ve put this in God’s hands. If it’s His will, she’ll love me for who I am. If not. . .” His voice trailed off. “If not, then I’ll have to go on, that’s all.”

  Jeff came around the table and clapped the younger man sympathetically on the shoulder. “Then I’ll pray with you that God will work it out the way He wants it to. Now, let’s get back to work.”

  ❧

  Lizzie sat at the supper table with her family. Jeff and the three children had joined them, Jeff explaining that Judith had begged off at the last minute.

  “She’s tired, mostly,” he said in response to Abby’s anxious query. “Plus, she said food just doesn’t sound good right now, and that’s no slur on Vera’s cooking,” he added with a grin. “She hasn’t had much appetite at all with this one. I figured I’d give her an evening alone to rest and not have to put up with all of us.”

  Lizzie watched her cousins eagerly attack Vera’s roast beef and potatoes. Their appetites didn’t seem to be affected, she thought in amusement. She looked at her own plate ruefully, noting the barely touched food, and picked up a bite with her fork.

  The lively conversation faded to a muted buzz as she thought dreamily of Tom and their last meeting. It had been brief—too brief—but once again he had held her and touched his lips to hers at parting. What would it be like, she wondered, when the days of secrecy were over and they could meet openly, with her family’s consent? That moment couldn’t come soon enough to suit her.

  She looked up several times during the meal to find Jeff’s eyes on her. What is he looking at? she wondered, raising her napkin to her mouth to wipe away any traces of food that might be lingering there. That didn’t seem to be the problem, though, for he continued to stare at her thoughtfully from time to time.

  Talk around the table drifted easily from politics to ranch business to local news. During one lull in the conversation, Jeff cleared his throat and began to speak.

  “Guess what I spent the afternoon doing?” he asked, speaking to the group in general. When no one ventured a guess, he went on. “Adam McKenzie brought over his plans for his horse ranch, and we worked on them for several hours.”

  “How are things working out for him?” Charles asked with interest.

  “He’s really coming along. I can’t remember when I’ve seen anyone work so hard to make a dream come true. He’s a fine man, Adam is.”

  “I couldn’t agree with you more,” Charles replied. “He has the drive and the ability to make quite a name for himself. I’m proud to have been able to help him get started.”

  “Will he be moving onto his own place soon?” Abby asked with a trace of concern. “I’ll hate to see him leave anyway, but especially now when we’re short-handed.”

  “I don’t think he has any immediate plans,” Jeff answered. “I think he’s just getting things together so the place is ready whenever he is.

  “Has he talked to you about what he’s doing?” Jeff asked, looking directly at Lizzie.

  She straightened quickly, startled at the sudden question. “Me? No. I mean, why would he?” She looked around the table in confusion. “Adam’s a good worker, I guess, but why would he want my opinion? I mean, he’s just there.”

  “Not like some other people, huh?” Willie’s teasing eyes glinted at her, and she blushed hotly, hoping the rest of the family wouldn’t pick up on his meaning. Willie had already made it clear he’d noticed her interest in Tom and considered it fair game for any amount of teasing.

  To her relief, the conversation turned to other matters and she was no longer the center of attention.

  They were cleaning up the last bites of apple pie when hooves clattered up outside and the sound of heavy boots on the porch was followed by a knock on the door.

  “Dan Peterson!” Charles cried with delight when he admitted his long-time friend. “What brings you here? I haven’t seen you in a month of Sundays.”

  “I wish it was something better,” replied the weathered rancher, twisting his hat in his hands. “John Pritchard’s boy rode down to White Oaks on some business for his pa, and stayed over for a dance. A bunch of those wild cowboys who’re trying to ape Billy the Kid started raising a ruckus. John’s boy took a bullet in the thigh.”

  Abby’s hand flew to her mouth, and Lizzie sank back into her chair.

  Charles frowned grimly at the news. “This is bad business, Dan. It doesn’t look like things are settling down after all. Man, you must be beat, riding all that way. Come sit down and have something to eat.”

  Dan shook his head. “I’ve got to keep moving. It’s another couple of hours yet to Pritchard’s place. Young Jack will pull through all right, but I need to let his folks know he’ll be out of commission for a while. I just thought I’d swing by and tell you the news, Charles. I knew you’d want to know.”

  Abby hurried from the kitchen with a packet of food which she pressed into Dan’s hands. He thanked her and was gone, putting an effective end to the light-hearted evening.

  “So much for your hero, Willie,” Charles said, giving his son a dark look. Willie responded by throwing his napkin on the table and stomping out the door, leaving his parents looking worriedly at each other.

  Lizzie excused herself and went to bed early, a jumble of ideas whirling through her head.

  ten

  Lizzie’s thoughts continued to be muddled over the next few days. Tom had gone to the south range, sent there by Charles to determine whether enough water remained in the water holes to get them through the summer. Lizzie tried to console herself with the thought that it showed her father’s trust in Tom and would prove valuable to them in making their case to her parents when the time came, but such hopeful thoughts did little to ease her mind.

  She hadn’t realized how much of her time had been spent trying to meet with Tom until he was nowhere nearby. For the first time in her life, she felt absolutely at loose ends. The quilt was finished and she had no other projects to occupy her time.

  Willie found her mooning by the corrals late one morning. “What’s the trouble, Sis?” he asked in his old easygoing manner. Lizzie was encouraged by this, since Willie had grown increasingly sullen and withdrawn over the past few weeks.

  “I was trying to decide what to do next, that’s all,” she said, making the effort to sound cheerful. Willie had been her companion all her life, and she didn’t want to lose that closeness.

  “Would it perk you up any if I gave you this?” His eyes held their old familiar sparkle as he took a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket and dangled it before her.

  Lizzie’s forehead crinkled in confusion. “What is it?” she asked. “Where did you get it?”

  “Let’s just say that it’s a note that’s supposed to be handed to you, dear sister. I’m not going to tell you where it came from.” He held the paper tantalizingly above her head, moving it just out of reach as she made a grab for it.

  “Willie, give that to me!” she cried in exasperation, jumping up to try to snatch the note. “You may be sixteen, but you don’t act like you’ve grown up one bit!”

  Willie only grinned at her own childish behavior and flicked his wrist, sending the note spinning through the air and fluttering into Lizzie’s outstretched hands. She started to unfold it eagerly, then remembered his curious gaze and creased it shut again. “All right, you’ve delivered your note. Now get on back to whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing.” She gave him a little push to start him on his way, and after one last knowing look, he sauntered off, grinning smugly.

  Lizzie fumbled at the edges of the note with unaccountably trembling hands and smoothed it open.

  Dear Lizzie,

  I’ve missed you and our time together these last few days. It’s shown me how important you are to me. I can get away for a little while today. Meet me at our special place at noon. There’s something I want to ask you.
r />   Tom

  Her hands weren’t the only things shaking now. She was trembling all over, like the time she’d had a high fever. It wasn’t fever that affected her now, though.

  She breathed a happy sigh as she traced her finger across his name and went over the note again, more slowly this time, trying to read the meaning between the lines. He had missed her, just as she had missed him! She savored that delicious thought as she continued reading.

  “There’s something I want to ask you.” What could he mean by that? What could he possibly mean, except. . . She caught her breath, hardly daring to allow herself to believe that he might be ready to declare himself this very day. Settle down, she told herself. You’ll find out soon enough. Just wait until noon.

  Noon? She checked the position of the sun and gasped. She had barely enough time to reach the grove by then if she started right now, and Dancer wasn’t even out of his stall yet.

  Lizzie raced into the barn, where Willie sat braiding a lariat. He glanced up idly when she rushed past him. “What’s chasing you?” he asked.

  “Leave me alone, Willie,” Lizzie panted. “I need to get Dancer saddled, and I’m in a hurry.” She rushed to the end stall, wrenched the door open, and hustled the startled Dancer back down the aisle.

  Willie met her, brush and saddle blanket in hand. “Let me help,” he offered, performing the grooming and saddling chores with effortless efficiency. Lizzie swallowed her surprise at his offer and used the time to catch her breath and try to regain her composure.

  “Thanks, Willie,” she said, accepting the reins he held out to her. Swinging into the saddle, she looked down on her brother with a warm surge of affection. “I really appreciate it. You’re always there for me when I need you, aren’t you?”

  Willie just waved and returned to his braiding. Lizzie urged Dancer into a lope and galloped away.

  ❧

  Approaching the grove, Lizzie let out a sigh of relief when she realized Tom was nowhere in sight. She had ridden hard, harder than she preferred to, but it was worth it, as she had apparently beaten him to their meeting place. She was glad she would have a few minutes to calm down. It wouldn’t do to meet him looking flushed and anxious.

  Lizzie slowed Dancer to a relaxed pace and walked him the rest of the way, taking the time to look around carefully. This was a day she was certain she would remember for the rest of her life, and she wanted to commit every last detail of the scene to memory.

  Had the sun ever shone more brightly or the scent of the rain-washed cedars smelled sweeter? The wildflowers, having received the life-giving summer rains, stood proud and erect, showing themselves to their best effect. Even the clouds drifted lazily overhead today, not in threatening clusters, but scattered in light patches across the sky. The day could not be more perfect, she decided. Except for one thing. I only need Tom here to make it complete.

  Lizzie tethered Dancer and nervously patted at her hair, wishing she had a mirror and comb. On this day of all days, she wanted to look her best.

  The sun was now directly overhead. Straight up noon, she thought. He’ll be here any minute. She craned her neck, scanning the horizon in all directions, but no rider appeared.

  She paced anxiously back and forth within the shelter of the trees, casting an envious look at Dancer, who was contentedly munching on clumps of grama grass. “Look at you,” Lizzie told him. “As long as you have food in front of you, you’re not worried a bit.” She pressed a hand to her own stomach as it rumbled at the mention of food. “See what you’ve done?” she scolded the horse affectionately. “You’ve gone and made me hungry. How can I even think about food at a time like this?”

  Maybe Dancer had the right idea, Lizzie thought, after another spell of fidgety pacing. She needed something to keep her mind off her nerves and the fact that Tom was overdue. Glancing around for inspiration, her eyes lit on some wildflowers, covered with blooms after the recent rains. Splotches of white, yellow, and purple dotted the ground. They would make a lovely bouquet, she decided, and she began to gather an armful.

  Carrying her prize back under the trees, she sat on a smooth, flat rock and began to sort through the flowers, discarding any that were broken or even slightly wilted. She wanted to keep only the perfect specimens. When she got home, she could press a sample of each kind of flower as a reminder.

  Lizzie looked up again at the sun, measuring its movement across the sky with a practiced eye. She had been there for at least an hour. Where could Tom be? She curled up under a cedar and continued to wait.

  In the next hour, Lizzie wove a chain of wild asters, made herself a garland, and stripped all her discarded blooms of petals while reciting, “He loves me, he loves me not.” The last petal made it come out “he loves me not,” and she flung it away in disgust.

  The sun was now a bright ball dropping lower in the sky, and Lizzie was forced to admit that Tom wasn’t coming. Angry tears stung her eyes. He had cared enough to send her the note; how could he have changed his mind so quickly? If he had lost his nerve, the very least he might have done was ride by and make sure she was all right, instead of keeping her waiting, hungry, and alone.

  The tension and anticipation that had filled her ever since Willie gave her the note had built up like a summer thunderstorm and needed some release. Lizzie mounted Dancer and started home without a backward glance, trying to keep her pent-up emotions in check. She succeeded until she was almost in sight of the ranch buildings. Then tears of humiliation pricked at her eyes and she felt their hot sting as they coursed down her cheeks.

  Lizzie bit her lip to keep from sobbing aloud. If she could just make it to the barn without meeting anyone! There, alone in its concealing shadows, she could let her tears run freely. No one need know of her disappointment.

  No one stirred as she rode closer. Her whole attention was focused on reaching the barn unseen. Only a few more yards now, and still no one appeared. . . .

  She had made it. Slipping from the saddle, she gathered the reins in her hand and hurried inside the barn. Dancer nuzzled her shoulder from behind and she turned to bury her face in his silky mane. Relief at reaching her goal made her weak, and she clung to the horse for strength to remain upright.

  “Why?” she whispered in an agony of spirit, as though the horse could understand and answer. “Why did he send that note and then not come?” Sobs rose in her throat, and with no reason now to hide them, she let them come, great racking sobs that shook her whole body.

  The scrape of a boot sole against gravel warned her she was not alone. Swiftly she dashed the tears from her face with the back of her hand and busied herself undoing the cinch strap.

  “Hi, Sis.” Willie lounged against the partition behind her. “Just getting back?”

  Lizzie flickered a quick glance his way, then turned back to her work, determinedly keeping her face from him. “Mm-hm.” Her voice came out as a tiny squeak, and she had to clear her throat and try again. “Yes,” she said flatly. “I’m just now getting home.” She slid the saddle from Dancer’s back and began brushing his coat vigorously.

  “Where were you heading in such an all-fired hurry anyway?” Willie continued to lean against the wall as if he didn’t have a care in the world, but Lizzie could detect a speculative gleam in his eye.

  “I–I had to meet someone.” Lizzie hoped her voice was steady enough to fool her brother. She placed her hand on Dancer’s rump and circled to his off-side, working to remove the crust of sweat.

  Her concentration was broken by a rasping sound, and she swung around to see Willie, lips pressed together, trying to stifle a laugh. When he saw her puzzled expression, he threw his head back and burst into a loud guffaw.

  “You believed it!” he cried delightedly. “You swallowed the whole thing, hook, line, and sinker!”

  Lizzie felt the blood drain from her face and she stared in disbelief at Willie, now convulsed in laughter.

  “What do you mean, I ‘believed it’?” she asked slowly, un
willing to accept the dreadful idea that was forming in her mind.

  “The note!” Willie chortled. “I thought you’d see right through it, but there you went, tearing out of here like a nest of hornets was after you. I bet you’ve been out there waiting for him to show up all this time, too, haven’t you? Whew, I thought you’d fallen for him, but you’ve got it even worse than I thought!”

  Lizzie tried to speak, but her numbed brain couldn’t seem to form any words.

  “Do you. . .” she managed, “do you mean the note didn’t come from Tom after all?”

  “You should have seen your face when I gave it to you,” Willie gasped, so engrossed in his mirth that he didn’t see the murderous look Lizzie turned on him. “I thought you’d figure it out in the first minute or two, but no, you went ripping out of here and then you spent half the afternoon sitting out there waiting for him. That’s got to be the best joke I ever—oof!” he grunted as Lizzie launched herself straight at him.

  Lizzie, unable to think clearly at this point, knew only that her anger must have some object, and the only object at hand was Willie. She flailed at him with both fists, something she hadn’t done since they were children.

  Caught off-guard and off-balance, Willie was unprepared for the whirlwind onslaught. He threw up his hands, trying to protect himself from the blows, but the force of Lizzie’s attack threw him backward and he landed in the corner in a heap.

  “All right, Sis. Enough!” He caught at her wrists, but Lizzie, empowered by unreasoning rage, had the upper hand. One wild swing caught Willie on his nose, which spurted a crimson stream of blood.

  “Ouch, Lizzie! Cut it out; this is getting out of hand.” Willie, caught in an awkward position, couldn’t regain his feet, and the blows continued to rain down on him unabated.

  “Stop it, Lizzie! I’m serious, now.” Willie sounded concerned. “Come on, you’ve always been a good sport. Where’s your sense of humor?”