Lacy Williams Page 4

  Much of the crowd from earlier had dispersed, although several folks hung around in the yard, chatting. Sam had been impressed with the town’s generosity, even from those who didn’t have much. Each family had brought what they could—whether it was some newly sewn linens or the nice cast-iron skillet Emily’s father had sent along. With the gifts they’d received, the Bradfords wouldn’t have an empty new house. Instead, it would feel like a home.

  Sam and Emily stood at the washtub in the new kitchen, scrubbing the last of the supper dishes from the potluck.

  “I saw that Jim had gotten his closer fields plowed and planted with a late crop,” she murmured at his elbow.

  Heat flushed his face as he anticipated her next words.

  “Alice mentioned you’d been out two afternoons to help him get it done. I was wondering why I hadn’t seen you ride out Tuesday and Wednesday evenings.”

  He shrugged it off. It hadn’t been a big deal. Since working with Oscar, he’d been itchy to do more manual labor, anyway. Although part of him couldn’t help but be pleased that she’d noticed his absence.

  “It meant a lot to them,” she continued, and this time she seemed to wait for a response, holding the dish he was attempting to take from her until he met her eyes.

  His ears remained hot, but he said, “Jim shouldn’t have to go crawling back to his father in order to support his family. And I didn’t do much.”

  “Why it is okay for him to break ties with his father, but not you?” she asked. Over the last weeks, he’d told her a little about wanting to earn his father’s respect, but not all of it.

  The quiet swish of the water was the only sound between them for a long moment as he considered the best way to answer her. The truth.

  “It’s more than me just being estranged from my father for the past couple of years. Before that...” He swallowed hard. “You gotta understand that my father is a tough man. Strict. No-nonsense. High expectations. As a teenager, I balked against the restrictions he put on me. All his rules felt like... like a noose choking me instead of something meant to protect me. I did lotsa stuff I’m not so proud of now. Got into trouble. Defaced personal property. Even tried to steal a horse once, although the marshal let me off easy on that one. Part of it was his rules, but part of it was... trying to get his attention, I guess. I wanted him to notice me. Not just as someone sitting across the kitchen table at breakfast, but for the person I was. I’m still trying to make up for those times. Still trying to get him to understand I’m not the boy I once was.... I want to earn his respect.”

  She listened in silence, the dishes done, her face turned to his. Truly listening to him. When he was finished, flushed with shame, she reached out and touched his arm. Her touch seared him, even through his damp shirtsleeve.

  “Sam, everyone’s got regrets.”

  He gave her a skeptical look. Emily was one of the nicest people he knew. What did she have to regret?

  But there were shadows in her eyes when she continued speaking. “Until I was eleven years old, I resented Winnie deeply. She took so much of Mother’s time and attention—and she was so different from my middle sister Marjorie. She couldn’t respond like other girls her age.”

  The self-deprecation in her voice stunned him. He’d seen the way she acted with her sister. The gentle, patient care she gave.

  “I didn’t even like her,” she whispered. “But then...”

  She released his arm, but he couldn’t bear to lose the contact, so he claimed her hand.

  “She came to school with Marjorie and me, even though she couldn’t understand the lessons. And the other kids often picked on her. And that day, so did I. The things I said were so cruel, and I’m still deeply ashamed of them. She must’ve understood some of it, because she ran off in tears. I got in so much trouble at home...”

  She shook her head. “But when I finally faced her after supper that night, it was as if she didn’t even remember. As if she’d wiped my slate clean of the entire offense.”

  Now her voice trembled. “It was the first time I really understood the depth of God’s love for His children—what He did for us by sending Jesus to die. And Winnie taught it to me, with her simple outlook on life.”

  She wiped her free hand beneath her eyes; it came away glittering with moisture. Sam squeezed the hand he still held in his.

  “From then on, things have been different between us. But that’s not my only regret—or even my deepest.”

  He waited, still holding onto her hand, hoping somehow that his presence could anchor her.

  * * *

  If she hadn’t grown so much closer to Sam in the last weeks, Emily would never have found the courage to tell him what she was about to reveal. It was too personal—too private. She could only hope the feelings she saw revealed in his eyes didn’t disappear when he realized what it meant.

  “You remember when we first met—the summer that Maxwell and I courted briefly?”

  He stiffened slightly, and his expression closed. Was he bothered by her reference to the previous courtship? Should she keep going? Could she?

  “Before that, I’d been taking on more and more of Winnie’s care at home. But I was tired of always having to be responsible. I wanted some time for myself. So I planned a trip to see my aunt.”

  “I remember that,” he said quietly.

  “I thought that mother and my middle sister would be able to care for Winnie adequately, but she and I had grown so close.... One afternoon they weren’t paying attention and she burned her leg badly. We almost lost her,” Emily whispered. “I didn’t even find out until I’d returned home and she was bed-bound.”

  Even now, years later, the guilt threatened to swamp her. How could she have been so selfish? She’d put her own needs ahead of her sister’s and look what had happened. Was it happening all over again? Was she being selfish? Letting her feelings for Sam overshadow what she should have asked him weeks ago—for help with the loan? If she mentioned it now, would he think she’d gotten close to him for the wrong reasons?

  Sam must’ve sensed her emotion and confusion, because he tugged on her hand and drew her close. Emily’s hands came to rest on his chest and she accepted the embrace, the comfort he offered. Tears burned her throat, but she had to say it all—finish it.

  “You’ve teased me about wanting a family of my own, but Winnie is my family first. I can’t ever let something like that happen to her again. With Mother gone, it’s up to me to ensure Winnie is cared for.” She murmured the words into his shoulder, too scared to look up into his face.

  Did he understand what she was trying to tell him? What that meant for the two of them?

  He drew back slightly, tipped up her chin with his strong, calloused fingers. The way he looked at her...

  “Sam,” she breathed.

  He hesitated, so minutely she might’ve imagined it, then bent his head and brushed his lips over hers.

  His kiss was as gentle and sure as the man himself, and she clutched his shoulders, wishing he never had to let her go.

  And then he was stepping back, turning away from her, rubbing a shaking hand over the back of his neck. She wanted to reach out to him, to recapture the closeness they’d shared just moments ago, but she was afraid. What if the things she’d shared with him had changed the way he felt about her?

  Then her resolve firmed. No matter if she was falling in love with him, Sam had been a good friend to her. She could do no less.

  * * *

  He shouldn’t have kissed her. He’d known it and had done it, anyway. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from bending those last few inches and tasting her lips.

  And he found he couldn’t regret it.

  Emily’s hand came to rest against the back of his shoulder, and he jumped. He forced himself to face her, even as he tried to put some space between them.

  She didn’t look upset. In fact, the firm set of her lips told him she was about to say something and that he might not like it. He bra
ced himself.

  “I had to find a way to forgive myself for what happened with Winnie—both times. And you’ve got to forgive yourself for rebelling against your father. Even if he never accepts your apologies, if things never fully resolve between you, forgiving yourself for the mistakes of the past is the only way you’ll ever be free of it.”

  Penny had said something similar to him before, but he hadn’t listened. Just continued on his quest to prove himself to his father, prove that he could be the son his father wanted.

  Was he listening now because he wanted to be free of the hold his father had on him? Because he wanted to be free to pursue Emily?

  He didn’t know.

  She’d given him a lot to think about—not the least of which was the kiss.

  “We should head back to Bear Creek,” he murmured, not ready to make a decision tonight. He’d been trying to earn back his father’s respect for so long... he wasn’t even sure he could let it go.

  But with Emily looking at him with that soft gaze, he was inspired to try.

  Chapter Six

  Sam stared at the ledgers in front of him, the names and numbers blurred to his eyes.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about Emily, about what had passed between them last night. There was no question he was in love with her.

  The only question was what he should do about it. He’d been toying with the idea of sending Maxwell a letter all morning, declaring his feelings for Emily. He thought his friend would step aside, even if he had continuing feelings for Emily. Sam could only hope their friendship wouldn’t be damaged beyond repair.

  He had some savings from his cowboy days. Enough to give them a start but not much more. If she agreed. They needed to have a long talk to sort things out between them. He wanted to tell her that he would never keep her from caring for her sister. He wondered if he could get her to sneak away from the shop at lunch.

  A sharp knock on the door frame broke him from his thoughts and pulled his head up.

  “Oscar. What’re you doing here?”

  “Had a little business in town and got a wire. Thought you might be interested in what it had to say.”

  His friend dropped a small square of paper on Sam’s desk. Curious, he flicked a glance at Oscar before reaching out to pick it up.

  “It’s from Maxwell,” Oscar said.

  Heart pounding, Sam lifted the paper. “Emily and I are just friends. STOP. Tell Sam he should risk it. STOP,” Sam read aloud. He re-read the words once. Again. Realized his hand was shaking and then let the paper flutter to the desk, hoping his friend hadn’t noticed.

  “You did this?” Sam asked, finally looking up to a smug Oscar.

  “Got tired of waiting for you to get off your laurels and do the chasing that girl deserves. Anyway, I got to get back to the homestead. Big roundup down in Laramie this weekend and I’ve got things to wrap up.”

  “Oscar.” Sam’s call halted his friend just before he got to the door.

  Oscar turned, shoving his Stetson back on his head, a half grin still in evidence on his face.

  “Thanks,” Sam said. “Someday I hope to return the favor.”

  His friend nodded and left.

  Sam’s eyes returned to the square of paper that set him free to follow his heart.

  Then his eye caught on a line of handwriting on the ledger just below one corner of the wire. Sands Mercantile.

  He used his thumb to slide the paper out of the way, following the line of writing across the page. He still hadn’t spoken to Emily’s father about the delinquent note. He’d been busy working with other customers... and once he’d started growing closer to Emily, he’d put it off, not wanting anything to come between them.

  He immediately thought of all the times he’d complained to her about the people of Bear Creek who were behind on their loans. Was she embarrassed that her family was one of them? Did she think that he would think less of her because they’d hit a difficult time?

  When he’d first arrived in town, maybe that thought wouldn’t have been far off, but surely she could see how his attitude had changed since he’d gotten to know the people of Bear Creek.

  Or maybe she didn’t know it.

  He had to talk to her, settle things between them. Now.

  * * *

  Emily was measuring yard goods for a customer when Sam pushed through the mercantile door, the little bell above tinkling to signal his entrance.

  From the set of his jaw, she could immediately tell something had happened. She hurried her customer through selecting a matching ribbon and thankfully the store was empty of other customers.

  He reached for her hands when she went to meet him, and that reassured her minutely.

  “Can you spare a moment to talk?” he asked.

  “Let me go tell Papa—he’s in the back taking inventory.”

  She joined him on the boardwalk, and he led her to a semiprivate bench in the town square. He took her hand again once they’d sat down.

  “Did you know about your father’s loan? Why didn’t you talk to me about it?”

  Heat flooded her face. She forced herself to hold his gaze, even through the shame and humiliation.

  “I... was going to. That first day when we picnicked, but I just... couldn’t.” She looked down at her lap, her eyes falling on their clasped hands between them on the bench. He hadn’t let go of her yet.

  “You must’ve thought real highly of me, going on all the time about people not paying their loans.” He shook his head, his Stetson casting his face into partial shadow. But to her surprise, he sounded more upset at himself than at her...

  “It wasn’t that. I was embarrassed about my family’s situation, at first. Then...when you kept coming around... I thought... I felt...” Now her face felt as if it were on fire. “We started getting closer, and I thought if I asked for another extension on the loan, that you’d think I was using you—or exploiting the feelings between us.”

  Admitting that she did have feelings for him made her almost afraid to look at him. Until he squeezed her hand and she found the courage to raise her chin and meet his gaze.

  “What’s between us is real.” His vivid blue eyes were steady on her. “Em, I’ll talk to my father, see what can be done about the loan. And I’ll do whatever I can to ease things for your family.”

  Tears burned her eyes. She knew how much he wanted to do a good job to prove himself to his father. But Sam was saying he would take her side, her father’s side. Maybe, just this once, she wouldn’t have to bear things alone. Not with Sam behind her.

  He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting his fingers brush her cheek before resting his elbow on the bench behind her shoulder.

  “I wish we were someplace alone,” he said quietly. “I really want to kiss you again.”

  Her heart leapt.

  “But there’s too many people out on the boardwalk, some of them watching us right now.”

  She ducked her chin into her shoulder. “I was under the impression you weren’t sure you were happy you kissed me last night.”

  “I didn’t regret it, if that’s what you mean. I let myself get a little too caught up in the obstacles between us—and a little afraid that I’d fail you like I did my father.”

  He didn’t say more, but she could read his sincerity in his face.

  It made her brave enough to say, “Then maybe you should come by the house for supper tonight and take me for a walk afterward.”

  He smiled—that quicksilver grin she loved—but before he could answer, hurried footsteps on the boardwalk approached and someone called, “Mr. Castlerock!”

  One of the bank tellers approached, looking chagrined that she’d interrupted them, but panting in her hurry.

  “What’s the matter?” Sam rose and drew Emily to her feet.

  “Your father’s here—at the bank.”

  Chapter Seven

  Although Emily had offered to come with him to face his father, Sam had escorted her ba
ck to the mercantile and made his way back to the bank.

  His father sat behind what had been Sam’s desk until this point, fingers tracing over the ledgers open before him.

  Sam cleared his throat from the doorway, but the elder Castlerock took his time in looking up, forcing Sam to wait.

  Making him feel same as always, like a child interrupting something important. Finally, his father looked up, although he didn’t rise from Sam’s chair.

  “Samuel.”

  Sam couldn’t tell anything from his father’s tone. Why had the man arrived early?

  “I’m a little surprised to see you. I thought we were meeting on Monday.”

  “And I was likewise surprised to find you were out of the office. During the middle of the afternoon.”

  Sam straightened his shoulders against his father’s disapproving tone. His actions were nothing to be ashamed of, especially in the light of the talk he’d just had with Emily. Although they hadn’t made any formal declarations, she seemed to return his feelings. And that solidified the decision he’d been coming to over the last few weeks.

  “I had to see a friend.”

  His father’s eyes narrowed at the simple explanation, but Sam didn’t offer more. He was a man now, whether his father wanted to admit it or not.

  “Sit down.” The elder Castlerock motioned Sam to a chair across the desk, his eyes already on the papers before him. “I had an important meeting rescheduled to early next week. So we’ll go over your results today.”

  Of course he did. He hadn’t given one thought that Sam might have other commitments or want to finish up anything before he made his report on the bank’s profitability.

  For a moment, Sam remained on his feet, fighting the urge to rebel against what his father wanted. In the face of his father’s dismissive attitude, he almost wanted to walk out the door.

  But he wouldn’t. He’d committed to seeing this through, and he would.

  His father tapped one of the open ledgers in front of him. “I can see that you’ve made a good effort at collecting the delinquent loans. Not what I’d hoped, of course, but more than I expected.”