Stolen Little Thing (Little Thing Series Book 1) (14 page)

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 attentive 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.”

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?”

“You’re tired. I can hear it in your voice. You always sound scratchy when you’re exhausted.”

Luke grunted his agreement. “I am tired. It has been a long day, but a good day,” he hastened to add. “Even if the barn is pink. By this time next week Irmegard Becker will have the entire countryside laughing about it. But what do I care? I have my girl. My Lemon Drop. She’s not going away. That’s all I need. Get yourself over here, woman.”

Esme laughed softly. “Is that it? Am I all you need?”

Luke groaned in response, too exhausted to make any other comment. Esme waited to hear the words she longed for, but he added nothing.

She changed the topic. “My mother’s leaving with Edgar in the morning. Do you know what her parting words were? She thinks it was Simon’s intention to leave the ranch to her. And she asked me what you would say if you found yourself married to a woman who had neither money nor land?”

Luke shifted in the bed and grunted a reply Esme could not make out.

“Can you believe she tried to tell me that? I told her that if that were the case, my father would already be living out here, but she insists you just want my land and money. I told her that ploy wouldn’t work and I was certain you’d love me madly even if I had nothing. Just because my father married her for her money didn’t mean all men were the same. She has a chip on her shoulder though. She’s terribly bitter. I wonder if she ever believed in love.”

Esme waited. Her heart thumped heavily behind her ribs. The words, spoken lightheartedly, were the sum of all her anxieties about her marriage to Luke. She hadn’t said them the way she’d imagined she would, but at least the dreaded thoughts were out in the open. She wondered how he would greet them. Would he tell her what she so desperately wanted to hear, that he loved her more than life itself, or would he evade her as he always did with a joke or change of subject. She peered around the bathroom door only to find her handsome husband sprawled diagonally across the bed, bare chested, feet hanging over the edge, snoring softly.

She circled him and asked softly. “Are you pretending to sleep?”

He grunted again, a soft complaining noise that immediately gave way to steady breathing. She smiled both at him and at herself. She felt foolish and hated how clingy and petulant she sounded. It was a good thing he hadn't heard her confession.

She was turning down the last lamp, when a knock sounded at the door. She rushed to see who was there at such a late hour.

Loretta stood in the corridor and spoke in a hushed tone as she noticed the sleeping Luke. “I’m sorry to bother, but Consuelo did a head count of the boys and we are both concerned. Henry isn’t in his bed.”

Esme arched an eyebrow. “The long-awaited kittens have probably arrived. Let me put on my slippers and wrapper and help you look for him. There are only a few places Lilac goes lately. I’m sure she’s decided to deliver her kittens in the barn.” She glanced at the bed. “Luke’s fast asleep already. I won’t wake him.”

Once outside, Loretta and Esme crossed the barnyard in silence. Moonlight glowed on the newly painted building, the silver light making it glow orange rather than daylight pink. By the front door, paint brushes lay neatly spread across a canvas feed bag where earlier, her uncle Edgar had taught each boy how to maintain a paintbrush so it would be useful the next time they needed it. Edgar, in spite of the tequila and a full day of merriment, had patiently helped them wash and smooth the bristles, all the while lecturing them about the importance of keeping one’s materials in pristine condition.

The barn loomed larger in the darkened barnyard, presenting an eerie, silent immensity.

Loretta grinned conspiratorially at Esme. “It looks like a giant pumpkin doesn’t it? I wonder what your Uncle Edgar would say about ‘the subtlety of color’ in this light.”

Esme cleared her throat loudly, and mimicked her uncle’s voice, speaking in a voice an octave lower than her own. She puffed out her chest and said, “I don’t mean to boast, but I happen to be a bit of an expert on jack-o-lanterns.”

Loretta laughed. “He’s a sweetheart, but I did notice the more tequila he drank, the greater was his knowhow about almost everything. By tomorrow morning when he leaves on that trip, he’ll have another area of expertise – hangover headaches!”

They laughed as they pushed the door open and Esme called Henry’s name. The barn was dark and still. They heard no response. She tried calling Lilac instead. Nothing. Slowly she pulled the door closed behind them and pondered where the boy could be.

“Maybe he’s gone back to the cabin,” Esme suggested.

The two women went to the cabin and found two boys playing checkers. They looked up in surprise when the two women entered.

Loretta clucked her disapproval. “Ya’ll will be tired in the morning, especially after the day you’ve had.”

Esme smiled at the boys’ energy. Even Luke was asleep in the house, and if that didn’t prove the day had been hard work, nothing did. She wanted to hurry them off to bed, but had learned to respect the ranch credo they all lived by; unless it is an issue of safety, the boys make their own rules. If they were tired in the morning, so be it.

Loretta sat down to watch the game and showed little concern about the late hour, so Esme followed suit and sat too. They talked in hushed tones and Esme described long games of chess she’d played as a child with her Uncle Edgar and Uncle Simon.

Salvador shuffled in from outside and crawled into bed.

Loretta addressed Sal without taking her eyes from the checkerboard. “Sal, did you happen to see Henry anywhere out there.”

“No, ma’am. I was in the privy. But he told me he was going to sleep in the barn with his cat.”

Loretta swiveled to face him. “In the barn? I don’t think so! We were just there and called out to him.”

Esme was shocked too. “I don’t think Luke would approve of him sleeping out there alone. . .” She said. ”I know there aren’t a lot of rules for you guys to follow, but sleeping in the barn seems like a bad idea. Sal yawned loudly. “Yes, ma’am, Nolan told him that the hayloft is filled with ghosts, but Henry said he didn’t care. I think that made him want to stay there even more, so he could protect Lilac from them while she had her litter.”

Loretta exchanged a concerned look with Esme.

The checkers players embarked upon a debate about the possibility of ghosts in the barn or ghosts in any of the other buildings on the ranch. Apparently, Nolan had told them one time he had seen a child’s ghost standing at the water pump, washing off an apple and then proceeding to eat it. The boys marveled at a ghost that could eat apples and were pretty sure Nolan was just pulling their leg about the whole business. But, maybe it was possible. Maybe ghosts really did roam around the ranch crunching apples in the night.

“If Nolan’s lips are moving, he’s probably telling you a tall tale,” Loretta said. “What I can’t believe is that Henry would go to the hayloft at night. There are snakes, rats and all kinds of critters that come out at night. Henry’s usually afraid of his own shadow.”

Sal mumbled something from the depth of his bunk.

“What’s that?” Loretta asked.

The boy leaned his head over the side of the bunk. “He said he was taking a lantern to keep the ghosts away, but I doubt he did. Luke would have his hide over something like that.”

The skin on the back of Esme’s neck prickled. Her gaze locked with Loretta’s. They both jumped from the table and raced out of the cabin.

Outside, they heard Spanish curses followed by men rushing from the ranch-hands bunkhouse. The barn was in flames.

Esme hurried after the men running toward the burning barn. Flames flickered along the roofline and licked down the near wall, hissing, crackling, blistering the fresh paint as it grew. Smoke gusted heavenward into the black sky.

Roberto passed her, running, carrying a bucket in each hand.

At the door Esme struggled with the latch stuck with fresh paint. She slammed her shoulder against it. On her third attempt the door swung open. Behind her Loretta screamed her name, urging her to stay outside, but she ignored the woman’s warning and stepped into the smoky billows. Inside the huge building the passageway was illuminated by flames. It was as bright as noon.

“Henry!” she yelled. Four more times she screamed the boy’s name. Nothing. She ran to the ladder and climbed up to the loft, heat scorching her lungs. Before she could yell Henry’s name again, he appeared, startling her. Esme had to grab the loft boards to keep from falling backwards.

Henry clutched a bundled horse blanket to his chest. “I have the kittens but I can’t find Lilac.”

Smoke swirled around them. Esme thought she might faint from the heat.

“If we take the kittens out, she’ll follow us. There’s no time to look, Henry. We have to get out.” A beam plunged to the ground behind them igniting a stack of hay. A portion of a nearby wall tilted then crashed outward.

“Let’s go!” She pulled him to the ladder.

Esme took the bundle of kittens from him and scrambled down the ladder as Henry followed her dropping from a few rungs up. Suddenly an arm wrapped around her waist and lifted her feet off the ground. It was Luke. He picked up Henry with his other arm.

As he ran through the barn, other support beams crashed nearby and the thick smoke made it difficult to find a way out. Esme’s eyes burned. Her lungs felt as if they would burst.

Luke kept moving, carrying them outside and further toward the house. They passed Roberto’s bucket brigade at the edge of the corral. It was only then that Luke released his hold on them. The boy took the kittens from Esme, cradled them to his chest to shield them from the heat. Esme toppled to the ground beside Henry. One look at Luke’s face told her he was furious with her.

“I had to get Henry out.” She shouted over the din, curling her fists with a fury that matched his.

Luke shook his head and turned away from her. He walked to Roberto’s side and helped him direct the boys who were valiantly trying to douse the inferno. It was like stopping a freight train with a feather.

Esme watched the fire race from the hay to the dry lumber. She felt helpless. The ranch was losing a valuable barn and all the hay in the loft. Esme worried about the cat too, and hoped Lilac would have enough sense to leave the burning building.

The hayloft fell; a whoosh of hot air sent sparks heavenward.

Luke shouted for everyone to get back from the barn. It was obvious the battle to save the structure was lost. Roberto tossed the last bucket of water on embers in a futile attempt to help, and then hurried away from the blaze, urging the boys to follow.             

The roof collapsed as Henry gave a heart-breaking wail. Consuelo appeared and crouched next to him. She rocked him in her arms telling him at least he had saved the kittens. Beside them lay a blanket where four of them wriggled against one another in the flickering shadows.

The last of the barn walls fell inward sending a torrent of embers into the velvet night sky. Esme had never felt her mortality as closely as she did when she realized both she and Henry had been seconds away from being trapped inside.

Luke ignored her, and she felt a wave of vulnerability wash over. She wondered if he was angry that she’d gone into the barn or that the barn was lost.

When the building collapsed the crowd stood in stunned silence. The embers made the air shimmer, and the heat became overwhelming.

Esme went to her husband and laid her hand in his. In the red glow, his expression was grim, and his mouth made a thin line against his smoke-stained face. Surely he wasn’t angry about her going to get Henry. The boy crouched beside his kittens and to Esme’s surprise and relief, an ash-smudged Lilac made her way to the blanket. Henry grinned up at her as the cat began circling his legs, bumped him happily with her head, before she lay down to let the kittens nurse, oblivious to the chaos.

“Are you angry about the barn? Is that why you’re scowling at me?” Esme asked.

“Some, I am, but I won’t be by morning. I can build another barn.” He pulled her in front of him and wrapped his arms around her. He brushed a kiss across her temple and hugged her closer. “It’s you being in harm’s way that got to me. Seeing the woman I love run into a burning hay barn made me think my heart would stop.” He leaned down to look into her face. “Why are you smiling?”