Robin Read online

  He bumped into the door on his way out.

  TWO

  Robin wrapped her arms around her middle and paced—five . . . six . . . seven, turn. How many times had she counted the distance from the tiny ticket office to the wall? A gust of wind blew through the broken window and a shard of remaining glass tinkled to the floor. The door rattled and a shiver slithered across her shoulders. She peered into the deepening dusk and held her breath, then when no one entered she resumed pacing—one . . . two . . . three . . .

  Where is he? Mr. Morgan said he would return. Voices, which at first had called to one another after the storm, stilled. She longed for the sound of other human beings, even if she didn’t know them. Instead, unfamiliar noises assailed her imagination.

  Home. She thought of her sisters in Chicago, their evening routine so predictable it swelled the lump in her throat with the thought. Wren would flit in the front door and straighten the picture of Mama’s great-uncle Alfred that hung above the table in the entryway. On her way through the parlor she’d rearrange the candelabra on the mantel, then make three turns around the large oval dining table to ensure the tablecloth hung evenly. And with each flit she’d flutter her hands and trill her day’s events.

  And Lark—dear Lark would scold.Nothing changes, little Jenny Wren. The picture will wiggle crooked when you close the door in the morning. You never light the candles, and Mama would take to her bed if she knew you kept her best cutwork linen cloth on the table when we have no guests to entertain.

  Robin smiled. If only they could have made the trip with her. But Wren still made the daily excursion to the Wesleys’—as nanny to their children—and Lark had her piano students at Winford Lucas Ladies Academy of Voice and Piano. No. It was best this way. Between the three of them, Papa’s debts would be paid in no time, and the sisters would join her to make their home in Kansas. Though it remained a mystery why, after all these years, John Wenghold made such an offer to nieces he didn’t know.

  A snuffle outside the window sent Robin cowering against the wall. She lowered herself to a sitting position and drew her knees to her chest. Darkness shrouded her from her foe. Crouched in the corner, she clasped her arms around her knees and locked her gaze on the door. Her heart drummed in her chest.

  Sing, Robin. Mama said fear and song don’t abide together.

  A bump against the outside wall sent another shard of glass ringing to the floor.

  “O for a faith that will not shrink, tho’ pressed by every foe.” She searched her memory for the words then raised her voice. “. . . Tho’ pressed by every foe.” A low moan rumbled outside the window. She took a deep breath. “That will not tremble on the brink . . .” With each new phrase the awful noise grew louder. “That will not tremble on the brink of any earthly wo-o-oe—” A furry head with long flapping ears poked through the open window and bellowed, took a long suck of air then brayed again. Robin screamed.

  She released one more piercing cry before the door slammed open. A lantern in Mr. Morgan’s hand gave enough light for Robin to make out the older lady with him. Oh, how good to be in the company of another female. The woman was tall and thin as a willow branch. One long braid wound around her head like a crown, and her face crinkled in smile lines when she strode past Robin to the window.

  “You cantankerous old sister.” The woman grabbed the intruder by the ear and the terrible noise stopped. The lady turned to Robin. “Crazy mule. The old dear thinks she’s human.”

  Robin gazed from Ty to the woman. Mr. Morgan’s eyes watered with restrained laughter. The older lady covered her mouth with the hem of her apron.

  Her legs shook, but Robin managed to push herself to her feet. She was neither impressed nor amused. Hands on hips, she opened her mouth to inform them of such when soft arms enfolded her

  “I’m Emma Ledbetter, dear. And this obnoxious critter is my mule, Dolly.” Emma wiped tears from her eyes. “You must’ve been so frightened. Were you, by chance, trying to chase your fears away with a song? Dolly here thinks she can sing. You ought to hear her on Sunday mornings when it’s warm enough to have the church windows open.”

  That was singing? The scraggly ears of Emma’s mule, flashed back and forth like signal flags. Then Dolly curled her lip, gave a toothy grin, and backed away from the window.

  “Sorry we took so long, Miss Wenghold.” Ty stepped toward her. “It took a while to get through town and make sure everyone was okay. Then when Emma couldn’t find Dolly I couldn’t leave without helping her. As soon as we heard that silly animal singing we knew we’d better get here and rescue you. Again.”

  “Were people injured?” She managed to squeak.

  “Only a few cuts and scratches.” Emma led Robin back to the bench. “Doc Mercer was able to patch ‘em up fine. And don’t you fret none about your Uncle John, dearie.”

  “How did you know I’m worried?” Robin welcomed Emma’s arm around her shoulders and scooted closer.

  Emma laughed. “My late husband, George, always said I was the knowingest woman he ever did see—said I knew everybody’s business, and a lot of business I shouldn’t. I think it comes from listening to my customers. After a bit you learn to look at their faces when they’re talking, and you begin to understand that sometimes what’s coming from their mouth and what’s showing on their face is two different conversations.” She leaned toward Robin. “You have a great big frown between those pretty eyes. A furrow that deep says worry to me.”

  Ty knelt by the bench. “I know this day has been long and hard for you, Miss Wenghold. If you can hang on a few hours more, I think it will be best for us to wait until morning to head for John’s ranch.”

  “Won’t he be anxious if I don’t come tonight?”

  “John seldom gets anxious about anything. He’ll figure I had sense enough not to head out onto the prairie with the storm still brewing.” Ty smiled.

  “But what will I do tonight? I only have my valise. The train left, and it took my trunk with it. They didn’t unload it. I don’t want to stay here alone.” Heat bathed her face. She didn’t want Ty Morgan to think she issued an invitation for him to linger.

  “Oh, I have plenty of room at my place, Miss Wenghold.” Emma patted Robin’s hand. “And as far as your trunk—you have to do the unloading yourself, dear. But don’t worry. My store is full of ready-made clothing, and you can have your choice. That is, if you don’t mind.”

  “No, I don’t mind at all. But I don’t—”

  “You needn’t fret about paying me. We’ll take care of all that later. In fact, after I have a talk with John Wenghold, I would imagine you won’t owe me a penny.”

  “He must be a very generous man.”

  Ty and Emma chuckled in unison.

  Emma shook her head. “Generous is not a word I would use to describe the man, but he is practical. You leave him to me.”

  “You know him well?”

  “John Wenghold is as old as dirt, and I’ve known him since he was a speck of dust.” Emma groaned as she got to her feet and offered Robin a hand. “Let’s get home and settled in for the evening, then I’ll try to answer your questions. Where will you stay, Ty?”

  “I told Doc Mercer I’d bunk with him tonight in case someone wanders in. I think the twister missed most of the ranches, but never can tell who might have strayed into its path once it passed here.”

  He held the lantern as the women descended the rickety steps. “It’s muddy, so might be slippery. Watch your step.”

  Robin grasped Emma’s hand and tried to match her stride. She feared her halting gait would soon be noticed as her hand jerked against the older woman’s with each step.

  “You okay, dearie?” Emma stopped. “Why, girl—you’re limping. Ty, did you hurt this little gal trying to save her?”

  Even the dim light didn’t hide the frown on Ty’s face. He handed the lantern to Emma. “Here, you take this, and I’ll help Miss Wenghold over the rough part. You go ahead. We’ll follow.” He tucked Robi
n’s hand in the crook of his elbow and leaned toward her ear. “We’ll go slow. I promise.”

  Robin swiped at unwelcome tears. “I’m sorry, I—”

  “You told me you couldn’t run. Is this why, ordid I hurt you?”

  She sighed. “No. You didn’t hurt me. I was born this way.”

  “You don’t have to explain, you know. Not to me. Not to anyone. Emma will no doubt question you, but only out of concern. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. You can trust her, Miss Wenghold, and she’ll want to be your friend.”

  “Will Uncle John send me away when he finds out I’m crippled?”

  “He doesn’t know?”

  She shook her head “We’ve never met.”

  Ty smiled. “That would explain why he couldn’t describe you.”

  “After Papa died we received a letter from Uncle John saying he could use help around the house and would gladly pay for it. We think perhaps Papa wrote to him when the doctor told him he was near death.”

  “We? You have other siblings?”

  “Come on, you two.” Emma stood with one hand on her hip, the other one swinging the lantern. “We can talk over a cup of coffee. Ty Morgan, get that dear lady out of the muddy street.”

  Ty put his arm around her shoulders. “You don’t have to say more than you’re ready to tell, you know. Lean on me. I won’t let you fall.”

  He won’t let me fall? Robin’s heart pounded. Maybe he wouldn’t let her fall to the ground, but on the inside she’d already toppled. She’d tuck this conversation away for now. A man like Ty Morgan would never be attracted to her.

  THREE

  Robin settled onto the wagon seat and tucked her skirts around her legs. A ride across the Kansas prairie sitting on a hard slab of wood was not how she envisioned her journey. The uncertainty of meeting Uncle John, coupled with Ty Morgan’s proximity for the trip, caused her palms to perspire.

  “Here, dearie.” Emma handed her a paper-wrapped bundle “I packed a few extra items. I doubt you’ll find enough in John Wenghold’s kitchen to last more than a few days. You’ll be needing supplies soon, so don’t let that old man keep you penned up out there, you hear?”

  Robin’s lips twitched with her attempt to smile. “Emma, whatever would I have done without you? Thank you. I’ll make sure you get paid.”

  “You’ll do no such thing. Now, lean down here so I can give you a peck on the cheek, then you two best be on your way.”

  “Thanks, Emma.” Ty embraced the older woman, then climbed in beside Robin. “Ready?” He grinned.

  Robin straightened her shoulders and nodded.

  Ty flicked the reins, and when the wagon lurched, Robin clutched the seat with both hands.

  “Sorry, I should’ve warned you.” He smiled. “You might want to hang on tight. Can’t always avoid the bumps.”

  Robin peered over her shoulder one last time as the town slipped from sight, then turned and set her face toward the hills. The road stretched before them in two long brown ribbons as far as she could see, while tall grass swayed and danced with the passing wagon. A brown and black bird sporting a bright yellow bib perched on a rock and warbled as they rolled past.

  They traveled in long stretches of silence, broken only by birdsong and the occasional nicker of one of the horses. Grateful Mr. Morgan didn’t seem to require a lot of conversation, Robin relaxed with the rhythmic roll of the wagon. The prairie revealed constant change. Great expanses of flat land gave way to unexpected rocky cliffs and valleys that plunged so deep shadows obscured the bottom. It was a far cry from the bricked streets of Chicago, but she was fascinated. Would she ever get used to the vastness, the sense of being as small as one of the insects thatwhirred from the grass as they passed? The wagon slowed, and the horses strained against their harness as they trudged their way up a steep incline. Robin’s eyes widened when they reached the summit.

  Ty reined the horses to a halt. “Quite a picture, isn’t it?”

  Trees, absent thus far, meandered through the valley below, then melted into purple shadows. The solitude was palpable.

  “I didn’t know grass and hills could be so beautiful.” Robin whispered. “How can it change so quickly? Last night it blew wild and dangerous, and now”—she swept her arm in an arc—“this is so peaceful. Chicago has storms, too, but the only things to show for it the next morning are a few puddles and broken branches. Here, everything is so green and new. Even the sky looks washed clean.”

  “The old-timers say Kansas is like a woman. You never know when she’s going to up and throw a fit, then the next minute she’s smiling and happy as can be. You love her, or you leave.” He wrapped the reins around the brake handle and jumped from the wagon.

  “I take it you love her?” Was it appropriate to talk about love? Mama would make her recite the three L’s of proper conversation with someone of a different gender: A lady doesn’tlaugh aloud, nor speak oflimbsorlove. If only she could fan herself. Past experience warned her that when she had a sudden gush of heat her face was also bright pink.

  “She’s in my blood. I don’t suppose I’ll ever leave. I’ve simply learned to live with her little temper tantrums. Would you like to walk a bit?” He removed his gloves and laid them on the seat.

  “Now?” She peered at the sea of tall grass that surrounded the wagon. It was hard enough to navigate well-worn paths. How could she shuffle through such unmarked terrain?

  “Here, let me help you.” He circled her waist with his hands and lifted her from the wagon. “This is perhaps my favorite spot on the ranch.”

  Robin straightened her skirts. “Why? Though I must say, it is beautiful.”

  “This is Morgan Hill. When I reach this plateau I know I’m almost home. I never tire of the sight.”

  “I don’t know anyone who has a hill named after them. I’m impressed.” Robin glanced sideways at her escort.

  “My grandfather gets that distinction. The story goes that he and Grandmother braved heat, storms, and occasional encounters with Indians to cross these plains. Then came the day they topped this hill and knew they would stay. They dreamed of a big family, but my father was their only child. I’m also a lone offspring.

  Robin sucked on her lower lip to keep her mouth from gaping. “Then all of this is yours? Oh my. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen so much open space. And to think it belongs to only one person.”

  Ty gave her a crooked smile. “I suppose it’s hard for a woman to understand, but my sole claim to owning this ranch is my name on the deed. In reality, Miss Wenghold—the land owns me.”

  She’d heard the same awe in Papa’s voice the few times he reminisced about his childhood on the Feather.

  Ty peeked around the brim of her bonnet. “You still here, Miss Wenghold?”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry. Your regard for this wild country brought back memories of my papa. I’m trying to imagine him as a boy in these hills.”

  “Maybe I can help. We’re not far from your uncle’s place, and we’ve time. I’d like to show you our fair prairie.”

  She grinned. “I have eyes, you know.”

  “Ah, but you’re only able to see the surface. This is beautiful country but full of risks. I survive out here because I’m aware night and day of the dangers that exist.”

  “More dangerous than Chicago, Mr. Morgan? Have you ever been to a big city?”

  He chuckled. “Believe it or not, Miss Wenghold, I’ve been to many a big city and am well aware of the hazards they hold. But out here it’s not the people that pose the perils—it’s the land itself. Come with me.” He placed her hand in the crook of his arm and led her to a rocky overlook.

  Large slabs of rock jutted from the hillside below and scrawny bushes obscured the depth. Robin tightened her grip on his arm. Would he think her forward? But peering over the edge caused her knees to tingle. Or was it Ty Morgan’s bay rum? “How far down does it go?” She shuddered. “A person could tumble over the edge before they know it’s here.”<
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  “And this is one of the more obvious ones. A man can get killed if his horse happens to step in a hole hidden among the grass while they’re galloping across here. They say not so many years ago, the Indians killed buffalo by running them off a ledge like this. Look.” He pointed to a large rock below them. “See that stick lying there?”

  “You want to show me a stick?” She peeked over the edge once again. “We have sticks in Chicago, too, you know.”

  “It’s not what you think. Watch.” Ty picked up a stone and hurled it onto the rock.

  She shrieked when the stick slithered into an S-like shape then coiled.

  “Listen closely. Can you hear it?”

  Robin pulled the bonnet away from her ear and leaned forward. “You mean that buzzy sound?”

  “That’s it. Memorize that sound because it signals danger.”

  “Is that a rattlesnake? I’ve read of them.” She shivered and rearranged her bonnet. Her pulse buzzed in her ears with this man standing so close. Washe dangerous?

  “Yes, and believe me, your horse will hear it and most likely shy away from it. If you’re not paying attention, you’ll go off his back faster than you can think. Rattlers are poisonous. Don’t ever mess with them.”

  “But what if I’m not on a horse?” Dare she tell him she couldn’t ride?

  “It’s best you carry a stick with you when walking through tall grass. And if you should happen to meet a snake, stand still. More than likely it will slither away. But you can’t be too careful.”

  Staring at the tall grass around her she quivered and willed her voice to remain steady, “Do they come close to houses?”

  “Yes, they’ll come close to a house. You can also find them along anything rocky. In woodpiles. Around the well. Just learn to watch for them. Until you’ve been here for a while, assume any snake is dangerous.”

  “Could we please change the subject?” Whatever made her think she could live in this wild place with hailstones the size of her fist, wind so fierce it could topple buildings, and now creatures that slithered and could kill you? And tall grass separated her from the wagon.