Page 18 of Heart of Stone

Luke glanced away, appearing embarrassed, and a slight flush rose in his cheeks. “It’s nothin’, really.”

“No one’s given me a present in longer’n I can remember. That’s enough without me even knowin’ what it is.”

“I guess you can have it tonight, if you want it.” Luke slid his hands into his back pockets. “It’s just somethin’ I thought might be useful.”

Stone smiled, wishing he could do something more to show Luke how grateful he was. But what he wanted to do was out of the question, so he patted Mist affectionately instead. “Ready to go back to the house?”

“Sure.” Luke stepped out of the stall and closed it up after Stone. He set off toward the house, walking beside Stone but keeping a careful distance; once they were inside, he headed upstairs, and Stone heard him walking around, and when he returned a few minutes later, he was carrying a small package wrapped in plain brown paper, which he held out to Stone.

“Here you go.”

Stone took the package, examining it for a moment. He remembered when he’d been small, and his mother had managed to save up enough money to buy him gifts for either his birthday or Christmas. He’d always been so excited, and he felt an echo of his boyish delight now as he held Luke’s present in his hands. He smiled, almost hating to open it and end the anticipation, but Luke was waiting. He untied the string and carefully unfolded the paper from around the box.

The wood had a beautiful brown finish, sanded and stained, and Stone ran his hand over it for a moment before he lifted the lid. Inside, on a bed of black fabric, was a gleaming black fountain pen with a gold tip and top clip. Stone drew in a breath in surprise and looked at Luke. “Thank you. It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever given me.”

“It’s just a pen,” Luke replied, still seeming abashed. “I thought you could use one of your own now that you’re a landowner.”

“Yeah.” Stone knew he was probably grinning like an idiot, but he couldn’t help it. “Most of the ranchers I worked for had pens, but they weren’t as nice as this. Even Mr. Stevenson’s, and he was right proud of his. Always wore it in his shirt pocket when he went to town, in case he had to sign anything. Thank you, Luke. It’s perfect. I’ll use it proudly.”

“You’re welcome.” Luke seemed on the verge of saying something else, but instead, he took a step back. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I do.” Stone nodded, closing the box and resisting the urge to stroke the wood again. He looked at Luke from beneath his lashes. “I guess I should get to bed. You’re to take the day off tomorrow, all right? I’ve got the chores.”

For a moment, it looked like Luke might protest, but in the end, he didn’t outright refuse, although he didn’t look pleased either. “I suppose. I just had a whole day off, though, and I don’t know what to do with myself without somethin’ to do.”

“You could break in that new saddle. See how you and Mist like it.”

“I reckon I could.” Luke nodded and turned toward the stairs. “Good night,” he paused, and then he added, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” Stone watched Luke go up the stairs, wishing wistfully that he had the right to go with him and spend the night making them both happy. But that was just a dream he’d have to keep to himself. He was far too old to believe that Christmas wishes ever came true.

CHAPTER12

“So that’s almost six thousand calves we’re expecting.” Stone looked down at the neatly totaled numbers on the sheet of paper in front of him, feeling a sense of accomplishment. A rancher never knew exactly how many of his cows had ended up pregnant until it got close to birthing time, but when the welcome warmth of spring had finally arrived, it appeared that Copper Lake had been quite lucky.

He glanced toward the other end of the table, where Luke was looking over his own set of papers. Luke had been lean when they first met, but he seemed to have lost weight, along with the tan he’d had the previous fall, leaving him looking thin and pale. But those weren’t the only things that were different, and Stone knew it. Even the hands had noticed and commented on the changes in Luke over the winter; he was still friendly and easy-going, but he was quieter and kept to himself more, as if some of the light had gone out of him, and he didn’t smile as much or joke as often.

It gave Stone a pang to know that it was his fault Luke had changed, and he’d spent more than a few hours by himself, brooding about the situation and wondering how to change it. But try as he might, he just didn’t see a way that he could give Luke what he wanted–and what he wanted himself–without risking both their lives and losing everything they’d worked for. It was almost enough to drive a man to drink, but that’s what had gotten them both in this situation in the first place.

Forcing himself to keep his mind on work, Stone tapped on his paper. “Looks like we’re goin’ to need some more hands. How many do you want to hire? If we start out early, maybe we can get the better ones.”

“I’d say at least eight or ten,” Luke replied, glancing up from his work briefly. “Maybe as many as a dozen if we look to be busy. If we don’t need them to work with the cattle, we can ask them to help out at the mine.”

Stone nodded. “Sounds fine. We can send an ad to the Reno paper, if there ain’t enough men local.”

There was a knock on the kitchen door, and Stone looked up. “Wonder who that is?”

Luke shrugged, not looking up this time. “Must be one of the hands. Anyone else’d go to the front door.”

“True.” Stone rose and went to the door, opening it up enough to look out without letting too much of the cold February air in. It was getting on toward evening, and since it was Sunday, the hands had been off all day, but it was always possible one of them needed something. But when Stone saw who stood on the back porch, he stared in utter surprise. “Little Sam? Is that really you?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” The young man Stone had last seen back on the Circle J back in Texas grinned up at him. “Didn’t I tell you I was goin’ to come out here and ask you for a job?”

“Yeah, you did,” Stone acknowledged, shaking his head. Little Sam had been happy for Stone’s inheritance–as had the Stevensons, who were the only other people Stone had told–but Little Sam had been wistful, too, since he couldn’t afford to leave the Circle J and follow Stone on what Little Sam was convinced would be a grand adventure. He’d sworn he was going to come to Nevada as soon as he could, but Stone had been certain that the day he’d left Yellow Knife was the last time he’d see Sam. Realizing he’d been staring, he stepped back and opened the door. “Come on in.”

“Only for a minute,” Sam said, stepping inside the warm kitchen. He glanced in Luke’s direction. “Sorry if I’m interruptin’, Stone, but I wanted to get here before you’d done all your hirin’ for the spring. You’re hirin’, ain’t you? Or know someone who might be?”

“Of course I’m hirin’.” Stone shook his head in exasperation. Trust someone as young as Sam to take off all the way from Texas to Nevada without even knowing if he’d have a job when he got there. He clapped Sam on the shoulder. “Luke, this here’s Sam Thompson, but everyone calls him Little Sam. Little Sam, this is my foreman, Luke Reynolds.”

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