Page 7 of The Drifter's Bride
“I saw that, Addy.”
Addison giggled. “I’m just so pleased, Papa. I’ll miss you and Mama terribly. But this is a wonderful opportunity! I wonder why Aunt Ingrid said October.”
“Something about an apple harvest. Said she would welcome an extra set of hands. Also, it would allow you enough time to return home before the first snow. I don’t like the idea of you being snowed in with no way to return. I want you back home before the holidays.” Papa stood and picked up his jacket that was draped over his chair. “I’m off to see the banker. I’ll need to get some things arranged so you have enough money to travel. I know you’ll want to get packed. Do you know when you’ll want to leave?”
Addison shook her shoulders. “The train leaves every Thursday.” When Papa raised his eyebrow, Addison ran over and placed her hand on his arm. “Papa, you are going to give yourself an apoplexy. I just went and looked at the schedules a few days ago.” Patting him gently, she continued. “I’ll ask Bettina to help me with my trunk, and I can get packed in a few days.”
Papa handed her a piece of paper from the desk. “Ingrid sent a list of things you might need. She said there is a small mercantile, but you won’t be able to get much of anything out there. So, be sure to bring what you need with you.” He kissed Addison on the forehead. “Well, if you forget it, you won’t need it. You leave this Thursday. So you have two days to prepare. I still don’t know what I will do without you, my child.”
“How’s Mama faring? Has she heard the news?”
“I’ve told her. Took two whiffs of her smelling salts to revive her, but she’ll come around.”
Addison laughed. “I hope so. Wouldn’t it be something if you sold your business and moved out west?”
“That definitely would be something, and I don’t see that something happening.” He turned back around to his desk. “I need to write to your Uncle Weston after dinner, so you go along and start packing. The sooner you get out to that God-forsaken wilderness, the sooner you’ll be back here with me.”
She ran back to her bedroom with the excitement of a schoolgirl. She didn’t think God had forsaken Nebraska at all, and she understood Aunt Ingrid had practically deemed herself the matriarch of the whole town. Even though the plans were only to stay until after the apple harvest, Addison was determined to pack as though she were never coming back.
Because she wasn’t.
Chapter Four
June, Flat River, Nebraska
Lukas rolled over in the humid darkness and tried to get comfortable. Sweat rolled down the back of his scalp and disappeared into the stuffed canvas bag, which was a poor substitute for a pillow. Wooden heels dug into the dirt as he tried to find a comfortable position on the hard ground.
After ten years of moving from town to town, he was used to sleeping on the dirt, but there was something about tonight that made him restless. The night was balmy, and he could hear the thunder in the distance. It was supposed to rain. At least, that is what Ranger said earlier in the day.
He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, boredom seeping out of every cell. He needed an adventure. As he took another breath, a faint sound caught his ears. It was coming from the south pasture towards the creek that ran alongside the edge of the property.
There!
He thought he heard it again, but it was so soft he could barely make it out. It almost sounded like a woman crying. He laid as still as he could with rocks poking in his back and strained his ears once more. The sound was gone, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves high in the canopy above him. The wind must be playing tricks on him. There were so many unique sounds on the prairie, and he was thinking about an adventure, after all.
Closer to the ground, he could hear the gentle hum of the crickets playing a light symphony, interrupted only by a throaty call of a lone bullfrog in the stagnant pond close by.
The moon was full in the sky, illuminating the surrounding ground. Only a few trees and bushes were visible in the shadows. The cattle dotted the prairie in gentle slumber or quietly chewed on the grass under the effulgence. It wasn’t his night to watch the herd, but there was something comforting about being near the other men that worked for Weston Chapman. It was better than sleeping outdoors alone.
How he longed to be back in his soft bed at his brother’s house, but he wanted to afford them some privacy as often as he could. Bet hadn’t taken the news of his moving out well. So, he was still splitting time between work, their home, and his new one.
It would take some adjusting to get used to not being wary of interrupting the couple as they slept on the floor in front of the fire. He missed Bet’s breakfasts waiting for him on those mornings when he woke up late. She made sure he had fresh bread, eggs, ham, and jelly, but there was something special about having someone else make it for you. It just seemed to taste better. Even the food tasted better when the Chapman’s Cookie rang the dinner bell.
He rolled onto his back and glanced at the stars peeking through the leaves. A loud crack of thunder shook the ground, and lightning illuminated the sky.
That was it.
He headed back to the homestead. He’d at least have a dry place to sleep or have a floor to pace, which would be better than sleeping in a soaked bedroll. It was not a night to be caught out in a storm. If Peter had already put the bar across the door, then he’d just sleep in the barn.
If it was just going to be a quick shower, his small A-frame tent would provide some protection from the elements, but this looked like a full-on summer gusher. The clouds were growing in the distance, and he didn’t want to be soaked when he had to arrive in town in the morning.
His horse whinnied. Rolling off his rubber mat, he picked up his bedroll and wandered to his horse. What was he thinking, trying to sleep in the field when he had to be clean and presentable for the stage’s arrival in the morning?
“Shh, boy,” he said, rubbing the horse’s velvet muzzle before mounting the gelding. Hickory had been with him for nearly eight years. Guiding the horse toward home, he passed several of the cowboys, asking if they had heard anything odd. He still couldn’t shake the feeling the noise had been a woman crying.
He lifted his hand to greet Ranger who was watching the cattle closer to the creek.
“You headed home, Lukas?” Ranger called.
