Stolen Little Thing (Little Thing Series Book 1) (11 page)

Luke rose from his chair, gulped the last of his coffee, and snatched a piece of bacon. He tossed a few instructions to his lead boys about Will needing a bunk.

“I’ll take you to Simon’s,” Luke said.

Esme set her coffee cup down, jarring the fine china. “Why are we going to Simon’s?”

“I needn’t trouble you, Luke. I have a driver.” Rosalind cast a glance at Henry, who smiled in return. She smoothed a stray lock of the boy’s hair, and he gave her an adoring look. Esme fought the urge to swat her mother’s hand away from him.

“I’m the driver,” Luke said, grasping Esme by the elbow to draw her into the foyer. “Come on, Esme Louise.”

Henry walked beside Rosalind as they followed Luke and Esme. “Want me to come, Miss Rosalind? Luke made me the welcoming committee.”

Rosalind looped an arm around his shoulders. “Of course, I do!”

Esme took her shawl from a hook. “Why are we going to Simon’s?”

“I just want to take a little tiny peek at the house,” Rosalind said.

Outside, Luke dismissed Rosalind’s driver, sending the man inside to warm himself and eat breakfast with the boys.

“You sure are nice, Miss Rosalind. You got red hair just like my mama does.” Henry sat up front beside Luke, but once the buggy was moving, managed to twist around to keep his gaze fixed upon Rosalind. “Course I could have guessed you’d be a nice lady, being Esme’s mom and all. You got the same red hair she does. ‘Cept for that hunk of grey on top.”

Rosalind chuckled. “And one day Esme will have a corresponding hunk of grey, assuming she has any hair left whatsoever. Having so many menfolk around should hasten the process nicely, and then I’ll get to say my favorite four words; ‘I told you so.’”

Esme sat back in the seat and studied Luke who sat in front of her. She could discern no sign from him how he felt about her mother’s sudden appearance. She could tell something troubled him though. Something about the stiffness in his shoulders gave him away.

Henry on the other hand was elated to have a visitor. All his conversation was directed toward the pretty lady from San Antonio, as he referred to her mother. As he prattled on about life on the ranch, he rested a pale, thin hand on Esme’s knee.

Esme wanted to pull him aside, away from her mother, to shield him from Rosalind’s friendliness, which Esme knew was nothing more than idle curiosity. Her father liked to regale dinner guests with tales of Rosalind’s maternal shortcomings, of how within days of each child’s birth, she’d resumed her fetes, soirees and travels. Her mother never remained in one place for long, and Esme grew up thinking everyone’s mother visited the Greek Isles once a year. As restful as a hummingbird, the moment you blinked or looked away, Rosalind Duval would take wing and vanish.

The first chance Esme had to chat with Will was when the new foster boy came later that evening to have her stitch the two-inch gash spanning his forehead. The injury happened while she and Luke took Rosalind to Simon’s house. In their absence, Will and Salvador had scuffled in the barn, since the muddy corral did not meet their standards. The other boys placed bets on the winner before the fight started. Sal was a favorite, something that didn’t sit well with the newcomer. In his zeal to prove himself, Will had lunged toward his opponent, tripped over his own over-sized feet, and, slammed his head against a wooden beam.

The boys were disappointed. The fight had barely lasted a minute. On the bright side, Will was the first boy in recent memory to be knocked out cold. That hardly ever happened in the corral, and that was some consolation at least.

Will was stoic as he recounted the details to Esme as they stood in the kitchen. Nolan, Luke and Rosalind looked on as Esme worked. Will told how his parents had died within a few days of each other of a fever when he was twelve. An only child with no other family, he spent the next two years living under bridges, in alleys and makeshift shelters. He’d worked odd jobs, sweeping sidewalks, or taking deliveries for shopkeepers, but never earned enough to put a roof over his head. The sheriff arrested him for loitering after someone complained.

“I was so mad when they hauled me in. I figured it was Mr. Pape, the mercantile owner who just didn’t want to pay me my wages. But now I’m glad I got taken to jail, because that’s how I ended up coming out here. I’ve never been in a place as nice as this.”

He grew quiet and looked from Luke to Esme and back to Luke. “You’re not going to send me back on account of this fight are you?”

“No, son,” Luke said. “You’ll leave here when you’re ready. In the meantime, we’ll teach you how to gentle horses and manage cattle. Every single boy that has come to the Crosby Ranch has been offered a good job when he left.”

Will nodded silently and sighed in relief. He sat on a stool in the kitchen with a crowd growing around him. Dried blood caked his face and hair.

Esme seethed. She was certain the fight was her mother’s fault. Had they not all gone to Simon’s house, the fight could have been prevented. Henry was unhappy too. He sat on the countertop swinging his legs, frowning, sorry to have missed all the fun.

“Look at my girl,” Luke marveled. “She knows how to do all sorts of things.”

Rosalind’s laugh was breezy. “Did you know Esme was the honorary nursemaid to the young ladies at St. Adelaide’s? She knows how to cure everything from migraines to stomach upset.”

Henry stared, transfixed as Esme tugged the thread, drawing the wound shut. He bit his lip, flinching each time Esme’s needle pierced Will’s skin. Henry seemed to suffer with every stitch the boy received.

“Will, you’re being very brave,” Esme murmured. “I won’t be much longer.”

“Hardly hurts at all, Miss Esme.”

“Look at those stitches,” Luke said. “Esme, we should have gotten you here years ago. You might have even been able to be my nurse.”

Nolan laughed. “Luke, you fought enough without needing a pretty girl to impress.”

Rosalind rolled her eyes. “Henry, do you know why Esme does such a good job?”

Henry swallowed, wiped his brow, and curled his hands into small fists until his knuckles bulged. “I think,” he said, his voice tremulous. “It’s because she’s smart and loves children.”

“No, Henry.” Rosalind smirked. “It’s because Esme likes sticking them with pins.”

His jaw dropped. “She does?” He spoke in a whisper, his face bloodless, as he swayed on the counter. Luke jumped from his chair just in time to catch the boy’s limp body.

“All right, Tiger,” Luke spoke softly as he left the kitchen to take Henry to a couch in the parlor.

“Let me help,” Nolan offered. Not waiting for a response, he strode from the kitchen a step or two behind Luke.

Rosalind sighed. “Finally, I have my daughter to myself for a moment. Getting you alone takes some doing around this place.” Noting Will’s look of dismay, Rosalind flashed a bright smile. “What Esme and I discuss, you’re not to repeat.”

He flushed. “No, ma’am.”

Rosalind turned to Esme. “Did Luke tell you he extorted money from your father?”

The last stitch in place, Esme snipped the thread with a pair of scissors. She stood back to look at her work. Satisfied the stitches would hold, she narrowed her eyes at Will. “Stitches are going to start costing a dollar if I have to perform them twice on the same boy. Let’s see if that doesn’t dampen you boys’ enthusiasm for beating each other to a pulp. You and Salvador need to mend your quarrel. Make friends with each other.”

Will shrugged and then smiled. “Sal and I get along fine. We have no quarrel, ma’am. In fact, he and the other boys are waiting for me in the barn so he can show me some roping tricks. I’m supposed to bring Mr. Nolan when I’m done, because he knows a lot. Not as much as Mr. Luke, but everyone says Mr. Luke’s no fun anymore since he got married.”

Rosalind patted Will’s arm. “You’re leaving? So soon? Well, go if you must, but don’t pick any more fights, at least not with wooden beams.”

“No, ma’am. I don’t believe I’ll be fighting anymore today.”

Rosalind shrugged a shoulder. “Do your best, but if you absolutely must fight, I’ll give you the dollar for stitches. Fighting doesn’t bother me a bit.”

Will stood up and gingerly touched the stitches. “Thank you, Miss Esme.”

When he was gone, Esme turned away from her mother. Her stomach clenched when she thought of Henry fainting. She had forgotten how venomous her mother could be.

“There’s more.” Rosalind addressed Esme’s turned back. “Luke threatened to harm your brothers.”

Esme washed the needle in soapy water. “I heard a little about that from Nolan. When he told me that Luke spent my father’s money on horses for the foster boys, I had to laugh. Papa’s swindled plenty of people. He was finally outfoxed, and it serves him right.” She wound thread around the spool and tucked it into Consuelo’s medical kit.

Rosalind folded her arms over her chest. “I’m not done. I didn’t want to tell you this, but he met your father at The Magnolia. Need I remind you that The Magnolia is a
brothel
?”

Esme washed her hands and dried them, then pushed the towel into her mother’s hands. “What did you expect? Do you suppose it was because he couldn’t find him at
church
?”

Rosalind threw the towel on the floor in disgust.

Esme narrowed her eyes. “What is it that you really want, Mama?”

“We don’t know anything about Luke do we? Aside from the fact he’s a ruffian. Your father was actually frightened! I could see it in his eyes. How could you do this? You could have lived the life I always wanted for you. You could have lived unattached, out from under any man’s thumb. I always wanted you to be happy.”

Esme put the medical kit in the cupboard and slammed the door. She whirled around to face her mother. “I am happy. I’m going to raise sheep on Simon’s land, help Luke with the ranch and the boys, and God-willing, have a few children of my own.”

“Now you’re saying you want children?” Rosalind shut her eyes and clasped her hands to her chest. She drew in a few deep breaths before opening her eyes and continuing. “Don’t you know as soon as that happens, you’re stuck, both with children and whatever treatment your husband doles out?”

“If Luke and I have a child, I would love him or her with all my heart. I wouldn’t consider my children to be some sort of hardship. Excuse me, Mother. I need to check on Henry.” Esme stormed from the kitchen. Rosalind followed.

“I’m moving into Simon’s house so I can keep an eye on you,” Rosalind shouted.

“That ought to be a novel experience,” Esme shot over her shoulder as she strode down the corridor to the parlor. “You never watched over me before. First time for everything I suppose.”

“I left you with perfectly capable nannies. I know you and your father bickered, but at least I was certain you were safe.”

Henry lay on the sofa, pale but conscious, with Consuelo holding a cloth to his head. When Consuelo saw Rosalind, she got to her feet and left the room, muttering in Spanish.

Henry struggled to lift himself, but he was still too weak. He collapsed back on the pillows and held a hand out to Rosalind. “Can you read me a story?”

Rosalind shook her head. “I’m afraid I need to talk with my daughter about something.”

“Of course she can,” Esme said, interrupting. She went to a nearby bookshelf and returned with a book and thrust it in her mother’s hands. Rosalind scowled and took the chair nearest the couch.

“Consuelo will be checking on you, Mama, so you had better be sweet to Henry.”

Rosalind gave her daughter a wounded look. “Of course I’ll be sweet to Henry. I’m always sweet. I’m trying to be sweet to you. Go on. We’ll be fine.”

Esme left them in the den and stepped out the front door to survey the barnyard. She waited a few moments taking in the beauty of the rain-cleansed countryside. Rain dripped off the roof, the storm had retreated, leaving scattered clouds. The barnyard was a soppy mess, but the fields were emerald green, the rolling hills, lavender. Her heartbeat slowed as she regained her composure.

Tomorrow, or the next day, life would return to what it had been. Her mother would leave to distant shores, and the boys would be back at work. Spending the day in the saddle or mending fences or windmills left them tired at the end of the day, and tired boys were well-behaved boys. All would be well, she assured herself.

The mud was ankle-deep in the barnyard, and Esme almost slipped as she picked her way around the puddles. If she hadn’t been so driven to escape her mother and talk to Luke, she might have turned back to the house.

The boys were not in the barn. She heard only the sounds of horses crunching hay. She listened more closely and heard the sound of a whirring lasso. There was no one in the tack room either. She walked through the shadows, past the rows of saddles, bridles on hooks and chaps slung over pegs. The air smelled of saddle soap.

“Luke?” she called.

“I’m here,” he answered.

“I thought the boys were with you practicing roping.”

“They left to play cards.”

“My mother is trying to drive us apart,” she grumbled, as she looked for him in the feed room. He wasn’t there.

“Don’t worry about her.”

Esme peered around the tack room door. A rope whistled through the air above her and a lasso loop fell around her shoulders. Luke stood in the corner gazing at her. With a gentle tug, he bound her arms to her sides.

They stood in dim light. He leaned against a stall door, the rope looped in his gloved hands. “Something I can do for you, ma’am? Run some pesky in-laws out of town maybe?”              His expression was of cool detachment as he tugged at the lasso, but as she drew nearer, she saw he struggled to keep from smiling. His eyes lit with a teasing glint. The rope grew taut around her shoulders and Esme laughed softly. The threat of her family, her mother in particular, now seemed far away. In the stillness of the barn, it was only the two of them that mattered.

He pulled her another step toward him.

“You better let me go,” she demanded.

Luke raised an eyebrow. Giving the lasso another tug, he looped the slack in his hands. “Or?”

“I’ll scream.”

He reeled her the rest of the way. Gripping the rope, he lowered his head until his lips were an inch above hers. “No one will hear you.” He pulled her, fiercely and possessively, into a deep and hungry kiss. He trailed kisses along her jaw to her ear. “I’ll untie you after you give me five minutes in the hayloft.”

She leaned into his embrace and laughed softly. “It’s before lunch!”

He peered at her, his brow creasing. He gave the lasso a small tug. “I don’t understand. Is that a yes or a no?”

Esme struggled to remember why she’d come to speak to him. He could, with a simple look, confound her and fill her mind with delicious and wicked notions. She shook her head, and her train of thought came back. She gave him a chastising look.

“You never told me about the reward money from my father, Mr. Crosby.”

“No, Mrs. Crosby, I didn’t. I was powerfully distracted last night, and I didn’t tell you about your bank account either. I found out about that yesterday. Simon left you a pile of money along with the ranch.” His hand tightened around the rope. “He set up an account for you years ago.”

“How much?”

“A little over twenty thousand dollars.”

Esme’s knees felt soft beneath her, and she was grateful for Luke’s strong grasp. “My goodness! That’s a lot of money,” she whispered.

Luke nodded. “You’re richer than me.’”

Esme frowned. “Don’t say that. Whatever I have is yours. You didn’t marry me because I was wealthy.”

“No, ma’am. That’s not why I married you.”

Esme tried to collect her thoughts. The amount of money was staggering, and she wondered if her father knew about it. Her mother must not know, otherwise it would surely have come up earlier when Rosalind was slandering Luke.