Wings of a Dream (27 page)

“If you’re done socializing, we can get on home.” He stalked to the other side of the buggy and hopped up on the seat.

I stared at his profile, that rugged face on which I’d seen such vulnerable emotions. But I’d also seen his look of disapproval in church. Now he appeared haughty, almost condescending. My eyes narrowed. What cause did he have to chastise me?

My arms tightened around Janie. She leaned her head on my chest. One corner of my mouth lifted. Janie loved me. And I didn’t think Sheriff Jeffries’s feelings lagged far behind.

Maybe, like Aunt Adabelle had said, the Lord had brought me to this place for a reason, but it was one slightly different than I’d imagined. A better one, I felt sure. For Henry Jeffries would never break a girl’s heart.

I cleaned the dinner dishes, wondering if I should pack my things that afternoon. Although our first interactions had been favorable, Frank obviously didn’t approve of me.

James ran into the yard as I tossed out the dishwater. “C’mon, Bekah. We’re going to help with the horse.”

“I don’t think so, honey.” Frank wouldn’t appreciate my presence. I feared his gratitude didn’t extend as far as friendship.

“Please?” James grabbed my hand and pulled. “Please?”

How could I disappoint that pleading face? So I gave in. He dragged me after him to the barn, the sudden shade causing my skin to prickle with goose pimples. My eyes adjusted to the dim light. The boys and Ollie chased each other through the shadows. Apparently “helping with the horse” simply meant being somewhere nearby.

Frank brushed Dandy’s raven-colored coat. I leaned my arms on the half-wall of the stall and watched. His face didn’t have that hard look now. His love for his horse showed in his eyes, in every tender yet firm stroke down Dandy’s side.

I wondered what Frank’s face would have revealed if I could have seen him look at his wife. They’d married young, according to Ollie and Irene, but given that he’d hired Aunt Adabelle to take care of things, I suspected he recognized his wife’s frailty early on. But had he expected to lose her this soon?

“I bought Dandy just before the war started.” His voice startled me. “Before that, Clara and I had an old nag for the buggy, the first horse I’d ever saved enough money to buy. I never dreamed I’d own a horse like Dandy.”

“He is handsome.” I reached out and slid my hand down the horse’s flank. Frank stood on my side of the horse now, so close I could hear him breathe. He smelled of earth and hard work, reminding me of Daddy.

I couldn’t see his face now, but he kept talking anyway. “I think Clara loved this horse about as much as I do. She said he reminded her of me, each of us with our night-sky hair and our determination to be the one in charge of every moment.” The brush stopped midstroke, but only for a moment. He moved to the front of the horse, caressing Dandy’s nose and talking softly to him.

When he turned his face to me again, a moist sheen covered his eyes. He blinked it away as he laid aside the brush, so quickly I almost wondered if I’d imagined the tears. In the next moment, he captured Dan from behind, threw him into the air, and caught him again.

Dan cackled. “Again, Daddy. Again!”

James jumped at his daddy’s arm. “Me next. Do me!”

Frank’s deep laughter filled the barn, but it blanketed his sorrow as inadequately as a thin layer of snow over brown grass. His world had been turned topsy-turvy, like mine. I think both of us wondered what would happen next. Turmoil bubbled inside me, twisting my heart first one way and then the other. But the emotion didn’t feel like it’d felt earlier in the day. This time it felt like compassion.

I found Frank in the parlor that evening, feet propped on a small stool, head resting on the chair back, eyes closed. The wind whistled through the treetops outside, and I shuddered at the thought of its icy fingers poking through the cracks in the barn walls. Frank probably wanted me to leave—if only so he could have his house back.

His head lifted and his eyes opened. Both the judgment and the grief seemed to have abated. He set his feet flat on the floor and straightened in his chair.

“I guess the barn wasn’t as comfortable as you made it out to be.” I settled on the sofa, my hands linked in my lap.

“It’s not a problem.”

The fire crackled and popped. The wind rattled the glass in the windows. And still we sat silent.

“I scolded Ollie for not helping with the dishes tonight.”

I shrugged. “She’s a little girl who has lost her mama and is very glad to see her daddy.”

“Yes.” He poked at the fire, rearranging the logs until the flame blazed higher.

“When I arrived, she was taking care of everything all by herself, so I think I can manage awhile without her help.”
Awhile.
What exactly did I mean by that? I flapped a magazine to cool my face.

He nodded but kept studying the fire.

I drew in a deep breath. “When do you want me to leave, Frank?”

His head whipped around. “Leave?” He seemed panicked. And yet today he’d been . . . Well, he’d been confusing.

“I just thought . . .”

He clasped his hands behind his back. “Of course. You need to go. I understand. We can manage.” He crisscrossed the room, stopped to finger the clock on the mantel. “But the children seem to have taken to you. I’d hate for them to have another loss right now.”

I hopped up from my place, suddenly eager to make him understand. “It’s fine if I stay for a while. It really is. I . . .” The words died in my throat. I couldn’t explain.

Relief seemed to flood his face, calming the flutters in my chest. I’d told God I’d wait right here until He showed me what to do next. And I intended to do just that—if Frank would let me.

“I don’t want to impose. I know you’ve been here three months already.” His face mirrored James’s again as he ran a hand through his dark hair and blew out a long breath. “I’m not sure I can manage it all on my own. Not yet. But if you can stay for a while longer, maybe until after spring planting, I’d be mighty grateful.”

I tried to keep my smile prim, not jump at the offer too quickly. So I let him know with a nod. And I prayed the Lord could convince my heart to care for the sheriff before Frank sent me on my way.

O
n Monday, the sheriff stopped by for a moment to deliver the mail, saying Mr. Culpepper was down in his back. On Tuesday, Sheriff Jeffries found me in Mr. Crenshaw’s store as I shopped for supplies with the money Frank had brought home. And then on Wednesday, the sheriff’s car chugged up the lane with no other aim but my company. Or so he said.

I wouldn’t again make the mistake of assuming more than was said. For now, I’d spend time with the sheriff and trust the Lord to guide me. Like watching plums turn purple in summer, waiting until that perfect moment of squishy-sweet to pluck them from the tree and pop them in my mouth. And Mama would approve, I felt certain.

Ollie finished the dishes as I changed into my Sunday best. When I walked into the kitchen, Sheriff Jeffries’s hat danced in his hands as a strained smile played at his lips.

Frank, on the other hand, stared at me as if I were no more than a scarecrow in a cornfield. No matter. I buttoned my coat and gave the sheriff my full attention. “Shall we drive, Mr. Jeffries?”

He returned his hat to his head and held out his arm to escort me.

“You needn’t wait up,” I called back. “I can see myself in.”

I didn’t wait for an answer.

We bumped over rutted roads, down paths meant for cows, seeing little as the gray evening slipped on its inky cloak. The sheriff talked of Prater’s Junction, of the Texas Rangers, of his dreams for a home and a family. My stomach churned as he talked, wanting him to offer to take me with him into adventure yet wishing he wouldn’t declare his intentions just yet.

“You know, Rebekah, from the first moment—”

“Do you think you could teach me to drive?”

His foot hit the brake. We jerked to a stop. He stared at me, his face illuminated by the rising moon and the backwash of the headlamps. “What?”

“Drive a car. Do you think you could teach me?”

He scratched the back of his head, tipping his hat over his eyes. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for a girl—”

“I’m not a girl, Sheriff. I’m a woman. And women drive, too. At least some do. I’ve seen it in magazines.”

“Still . . .” He shook his head.

I leaned closer. “Please?”

He frowned as he pushed his hat back into its rightful place. “All right. But just this once.”

With a squeal, I changed places with him, setting my hands on the steering wheel, listening closely to his instructions. With the car in gear I eased off the brake and opened the throttle. We inched forward. I laughed, eyes on the strip of light showing the road ahead. The braver I got, the faster we went, bumping along in the dirt, sometimes on the worn track, sometimes into the unmarked grass.

For the first time in my life, I felt free. I held the wheel. I decided our course. I wanted to go on and on and never stop. Filled with glee, I glanced at the sheriff. He remained thin-lipped, but he’d get used to this, I felt sure. He planned to be a Texas Ranger, after all. He could understand my desire for adventure.

But before I knew it, Frank Gresham’s house loomed in the dark. And I knew that pursuing adventure with the sheriff meant leaving the Greshams behind. The thought pinched my heart like shoes too tight. How could I survive without James’s sweet face and Dan’s rambunctious four-year-old antics, Ollie’s shy smile, and Janie’s teeth emerging into her joyful grin?

We motored toward the fence, my mind still lost in anguished thoughts.

“Slow down.” Sheriff Jeffries put a hand on the steering wheel.

“I can do it.” I yanked in the opposite direction. White pickets glowing beneath the full moon appeared closer and larger. My foot missed the brake. Wood splintered. A headlamp went dark. The engine died without a sputter.

Sheriff Jeffries practically sat in the same seat with me now, his foot hard on the brake.

I looked up. A shadowy figure rose from a chair on the porch and walked toward us.

Frank.

I pushed open my door and stood on shaky legs, straightening my hat. The sheriff inspected his car. Frank kept his eyes on me. I refused to turn from his reproachful gaze.