Robin (19 page)

NINETEEN

              The first evening star was visible, though it was still quite light. Robin loved this time of evening, right before the last burst of sunset changed to the whisper-gray of night. Cicadas hummed their eerie undulating song and a mocking bird perched somewhere close by and whistled through its repertoire.

              William came onto the porch and Robin took a deep breath. His apparent ease did nothing for her quaking nerves. If only she could have a few moments alone before the inevitable visit with him
.
You two run along and enjoy the evening. Me and Jacob will tend to the cleanin’ up in here
.
Bless Uncle John. She’d take that up with him another time.

              “Do you mind if I join you?” William pulled a wicker chair next to hers, then leaned back and crossed his long legs. “The meal was wonderful, Robin. But why do I get the feeling you stayed in the kitchen all afternoon on purpose? You’ve been avoiding me, you know.”

              She clasped her hands and willed them to stop shaking. “I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve been busy.”

              “You’ve been busy staying away from me, my sweet friend. This is William sitting here, not some stranger.”

              Wrong. He was a stranger. She expected the old William—the one who dressed in suits and stiff white shirts with black bow ties. The man she knew parted his hair in the middle and plastered it down with some kind of sweet-smelling oil. William Arthur Benson the Third—the banker’s son from Chicago—was clean shaven, pale faced, and would never sit in the presence of a lady with his shirt collar open like that. She forced her gaze from his chest.

              “I haven’t seen you for nine months, William. In a way, yo
u
ar
e
a stranger. Why, after all this time, have you suddenly decided to come back into my life?”

              “It isn’t sudden, Robin. I asked you to marry me before your father died. You turned me down. I’m hoping you’ll reconsider. You did read my letter, didn’t you?”

              Robin met his gaze. “Yes, I read your letter. But did you honestly think that by not contacting me in any way during that time, you would endear yourself to me? You’re most confident that no other man in his right mind would consider courting a cripple, aren’t you?” She’d just made trouble for herself. In the past William would not allow her to reference her limp, and from the expression on his face that hadn’t changed.

              William leaned forward and braced his forearms on his legs. “Stop it, Robin. I will not allow you to feel sorry for yourself. You know that.”

              “Nor will I tolerate your pity.” She stood and crossed her arms. “I’ll ask you again. Why are you here?
”
Robin, why are you doing this?

              William stood and put his hands on her shoulders, forcing her back into her chair. “I’m here because I care for you, Robin.”

              What did she want him to say? That he loved her? She would argue that point, too. Why couldn’t he be the old William? Not this . . . this handsome stranger who seemed as at home on the prairie as he did in Chicago.

              “Look, Robin, can we start over again with this conversation? I didn’t come to fight with you.”

              “Oh, that’s right. You came t
o
car
e
for me.”

              William frowned. “And what is wrong with my caring for you?”

              “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard Uncle John declare he’d best get out and care for them animals—they don’t care for themselves, you know. You make it sound like caring is a chore to be accomplished.” That was a childish outburst and she knew it. And the smirk on William’s face indicated his knowledge as well.

              “You’re twisting my words. I didn’t say I came to take care of you. I distinctly remember saying I came because I car
e
fo
r
you—as in always have and always will. I don’t see it as something I need to accomplish at all. Friends care, Robin.”

              “And that is how you see us? Friends?” She was talking herself into a corner. William wasn’t afraid to meet her in the middle of the ring and punch back.

              William shrugged. “I will always be your friend. Anything beyond that will be entirely up to you.”

              “So you want me to decide whether I want to remain only a friend, or return to Chicago as your wife. Are those my choices?”

              William leaned back in his chair. “Husbands and wives have been known to be friends, Robin. Now you’re making this sound like some kind of business transaction.” He smoothed his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “I think to be safe, we need to change the subject. Tell me about Jacob. Who is he, exactly? He’s a handsome little tyke. I think he could charm the silver off a dollar.”

              Robin nodded, grateful for the change of focus. “He’s a sweetheart, isn’t he? Ty Morgan and I found him on the prairie.”

              “And who is this Ty? I never did get an answer, but he must be someone important to Jacob.”

              “I need to start at the beginning. Do you want to hear the whole long story?”

              “How long? Will I need a cup of coffee and perhaps another piece of your apple pie?” He winked. “Like any man, I listen much better over a plate of sweets.”

              Robin smiled. He didn’t look like her old friend, but he did sound like him. Her mama would say William Benson could smell pie baking before she assembled the ingredients. “This is the first apple pie I’ve baked since coming to Kansas. And, wouldn’t you know—you just happen to show up in time to eat it.”

              William stood and pulled Robin to her feet. “And here I thought you baked it special for me. But, Robin, I didn’t just happen to show up. I planned this trip well.”

###

Robin poured William another cup of coffee while he smashed the remains of the pie onto his fork.

              “You didn’t like the pie?”

              William shook his head. “Liked the pie, not the story.”

              “Because it doesn’t have a happy ending?”

              “It didn’t have a happy beginning, Robin. And it still has no ending. I wish I could have protected you from the storm. And I wish Jacob . . . what will become of him?” William sipped his coffee. “Whew, that’s hot. You must have refilled it when I wasn’t looking.”

              “You seemed deep in thought. I’m sorry. I should have warned you. I don’t know what will become of Jacob. I threatened to return to Chicago—once when I was very frustrated—but Uncle John said I couldn’t take Jacob. And I can’t leave him.”

              “Why didn’t John want you to take the boy?”

              Robin carried the dirty dishes to the cupboard then returned to sit across from him. “He thinks as long as there’s a chance he has a pa, we need to wait.”

              William leaned back and crossed his arms. “I can understand his reasoning, Robin. Look, at the risk of another argument—and believe me, I don’t want a fight—but let’s say that at the end of this month you decide to return to Chicago with me. Wha
t
woul
d
you do with Jacob?”

              Robin frowned. “What do you mean? Are you saying you wouldn’t want him with us? What would you want me to do with him?” She trembled. She didn’t want another fight, but she’d fight with anyone in order to keep Jacob.

              “I said I didn’t want an argument. And I don’t. I’ve been here less than a day. This little guy surprised me. I need answers to a lot of questions before I can make any statement you would probably want to hear.”

              “Like what? I’ve told you everything I know about him.”

              “How would Ty Morgan feel if you were to take the boy away? And what would happen if we did take him to Chicago and then a father came after him? Could you give him up? What would it do to you? Have you prayed about this? Maybe you should talk with your pastor. Perhaps he would be able to give you counsel.”

              Robin shook her head. “Our pastor would be no help. Believe me.”

              He raised one eyebrow. “It’s not like you to speak unkindly about a man of the cloth.”

              She smiled and shrugged. “William, the preacher is Ty Morgan.”

TWENTY

              William’s watch showed half-past midnight. The room was hot, no breeze came through the open windows, and scenes of the day’s events insisted on being rehearsed. He slipped on his britches and padded barefoot down the steps and onto the porch.

              “You couldn’t sleep, either?”

              William jumped at John’s voice. “I hear you but can’t see you.”

              “I’m tryin’ to keep this wall from fallin’ down. Keep your voice low, if you don’t mind.”

              “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t wish to awaken anyone.”

              “Not worried about wakin’ anybody. You got good eyes, son?”

              William moved to John’s side. “I don’t wear spectacles, if that’s any indication.”

              “I been a starin’ at one spot so long I can’t tell if they’s somethin’ a movin’ out there or if I got myself spooked. Look yonder, toward the barn. There! Did you see somethin’?”

              William peered into the darkness. He did see movement, but what would anyone be doing way out here at this time of night? “You have any idea who or what it might be?”

              “They’s been somebody snoopin’ around. He’s been seen here and over at Ty Morgan’s, too. Usually on horseback, and never looks to be hidin’. Never gets close enough, or stays around long enough, for anybody to catch up with him.”

              “Want me to take a look? If it’s the same person he wouldn’t expect two men on your place, would he? Do you have a gun handy?”

              “There’s one a hangin’ above the door in the kitchen. Can you manage handlin’ a gun without shootin’ somebody?”

              William didn’t answer but stepped inside and retrieved the gun. “Don’t intend to shoot anyone, but if it’s an animal, I might find the weapon useful, don’t you think?”

             
“
Hump
h
. I knowed you weren’t no city slicker the minute I eyeballed ya in town. Think you can stay out of sight ‘til you get to the barn?”

              “Trust me.”

              William slipped into the shadows, scolding himself as he crept toward the barn. Only a city slicker would go out at night without his boots. What was he thinking?

              He stopped at the edge of the tree cover, his jaw stiff from clamping it shut so he didn’t yelp as he encountered twigs and stickers along the way. He rubbed the bottom of each foot across his pant leg then leaned against the trunk of a tree to catch his breath. Did Robin know someone had been spying on them? What kind of danger was she in? Was Jacob in danger?

              A twig snapped and a tingle ran the course of William’s spine. Had he been stupid enough to let someone get behind him? Heavy breathing accompanied another crunch of undergrowth. William shouldered the gun and whirled to face his opponent.

              “Don’t ya dare pull that trigger. It’s me.”

              William lowered the gun. “Well, you’re lucky you didn’t get shot, John Wenghold. I don’t recall hearing you say you were going to follow me. If someone’s still out there he’s no doubt laughing his head off.”

              John stepped out of the shadows. “Keep the gun handy but come with me. I got me an idea.” He walked a ways farther then stopped and cupped his hands to his mouth. “Hey you, whoever ya might be. We knows you’re out there so ya might as well show yourself and tell us what ya got on your mind.”

              “That’s a good way to get shot, you know.” William stepped between John and the barn.

              “We don’t aim you no harm,” John shouted, “and I reckon if ya was intent on no good you would a done it long before now, so come on out.”

              They waited for a long minute before a silhouette of a man emerged through the open barn door and slid around the corner. William ran, but John moved in front of him, and he tripped.

              Pounding hooves telegraphed a departing message then all was quiet.

              William sat on the hard ground with his knees drawn up. “If you would have stayed on the porch this might not have ended in such a fiasco. Why’d you cut in front of me?”

              “Well, if that wouldn’t make granny’s cat howl. I didn’t do no cuttin’ in front. You was so slow I done got ahead of ya.”

              “I couldn’t go any faster. I’m barefoot.”

              “Barefoot?” John spit. “About the time I think ya might have a little bit of smarts, you go and pull some dumb trick. Don’t ya know no better than to go barefoot out here? It’s a wonder ya didn’t step on somethin’ sharp, or a snake, or somethin’.”

              “Did you think the guy was going to accept your invitation for a tea party? ‘Come on out. We don’t aim you no harm. Nice Mr. Bad Man.’” William mimicked John. “Why don’t you leave him milk and cookies out behind the barn? After a while I bet you could get him to eat out of your hand.”

              John waved him off. “You can poke fun all ya want. But promise me you’ll bust a gut to keep Robin and the boy in sight at all times. Never had me no trouble with anybody sneakin’ around ‘til they showed up. Me and Ty think it’s the boy what brung it on, but we can’t be sure.”

              William rose and dusted off the seat of his pants. “Does Robin know?”

              “Yeah, she seen him one night.”

              “So, now what? You want me to stay up and watch?” William picked up the gun.

              “Nope, no need. If the fella has half a brain he’s done figgered out there’s two of us. I doubt he’ll be back tonight. I been thinkin’ on havin’ me a piece of that there apple pie, if you haven’t already et it all. I was a wishin’ we could maybe have us a talk without Robin or the boy listenin’ in.”

              “Hate to tell you, I ate the last piece of pi
—
Unh
!
” William winced as he stepped on something sharp.

              “Here. You wanna hold my hand so’s you don’t trip?” John slapped his knee. “I’m purty sure ya didn’t eat the last piece of pie. I done figgered out where she puts the sweets when she don’t want me or the boy to find ‘em. B’sides that, a woman don’t ever bake only one pie on Saturday when she knows there’s company for Sunday.” John wiped his hand across his face. “Ya know, it’s a wonder that gun didn’t go off when you went a slammin’ into the ground. You did load it, didn’t ya?”

              William grabbed John’s sleeve. “Are you telling me you keep an unloaded gun above your kitchen door? A lot of good that does. You think some intruder is going to politely wait for you to find your ammunition and load the crazy thing? John, you’ll have to be more diligent if you’re going to protect Robin and Jacob. You let me go out there with an empty gun, for crying out loud.”

              “Didn’t let you do no such thing. I thought you’d have enough know-how to check. Always kept it loaded ‘til the boy came. Don’t take no fancy to him gettin’ curious and tryin’ to get it down.”

              “You got a point. You know, if that gun had been loaded chances are you would have gotten shot tonight, cutting in front of me like you did.” William laughed. “If you don’t mind, though, I’m gonna load this thing before I hang it over the door again. With us both keeping Jacob in sight it should be safe enough.”

              John shook his head. “Don’t know much about kids, do ya? I didn’t either before Jacob showed up. I’ll tell you one thing I’ve learned—keepin’ a boy like him in sight at all times is about like clutchin’ a handful of water. What say I pound a couple nails up a bit higher? Maybe keep it out of his reach as best we can.”

              William hung the gun back over the door. “Probably should wait until morning to pound anything unless, of course, you don’t mind Robin catching us cutting that other pie.”

              John motioned to the cupboard where the coffee cups were. “Since you’re a gonna be around for a while, I reckon ya might as well make yourself at home. You can pour the coffee. I’ll get what I can find tucked away.”

              William did as he was told, then grinned as John set a plate of cookies in front of him. “No pie? Thought you said she wouldn’t have baked only one pie.” He reached for a cookie. “Mmm . . . molasses. She remembered they’re my favorite.”

              “Well, don’t get so high on yourself, boy—they’s my fav’rite, too.” John put two cookies on the table by his cup. “As late as it is, I reckon I might as well come right out and speak my mind. What ya here for?”

              William liked this man. “That seems to be the question of the night. Robin asked me the same thing earlier.”

              “So, what did ya tell her?”

              “The same thing I’ll tell you—I came because I care for her.”

              “Anybody send ya?” He reached for another cookie.

              William took a sip of coffee. “Why would you ask a question like that?”

              “Cuz Lionel Wenghold was my brother. He writ me a letter before he died—hadn’t kept in touch like I should’ve—askin’ me if I would think on making sure his daughters got took care of.”

              William pointed to the cookies in front of John. “So, who’s taking care of whom?”

              “Didn’t know how to go about gettin’ ‘em out here, and I surely weren’t gonna set up camp in Chicago. Didn’t reckon on them comin’ one at a time.”

              “Why did he ask you? I mean, if you didn’t keep in contact, how did he know you would be the kind of person to honor his wishes?”

              “Cuz we’s Wengholds, that’s how. Distance didn’t erase our name or drain our blood. Did Lionel ask you to take care of Robin in particular?”

              William nodded. “Robin and I grew up together, played together, went to school together. At some point, can’t remember when, I appointed myself her knight in shining armor. Her limp made her a target for some awful mean pranks and a whole lot of ridicule. I tried to spare her as much as possible. Mr. Wenghold knew I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her as long as I could help it.”

              “You let her out of your sight long enough for her to make her way to Kansas. You don’t think anything bad could happen to her out here? Jumpin’ bullfrogs, man. Did you know she was caught in a twister the first day she arrived? If it hadn’t been for Ty Morgan it’s hard tellin’ where she might’ve got blowed to.”

              “I’ve heard the story. This Ty must be quite the man—preacher, woman and child saver, successful rancher . . .”

              John’s eyes narrowed. “And a man what’s so blamed honorable he’s done got himself caught in a web that’s more’n likely gonna strangle him.”

              “I didn’t mean to disparage him, Mr. Wenghold.”

              “Ya sounded like a jealous schoolboy.” John spooned sugar into his coffee. “If my brother asked ya to take care of Robin, why’d it take ya so long?”

              “I asked Robin to marry me before your brother died. I thought it might bring him a small measure of comfort. She refused—quite adamantly, I might add. I’m sorry to admit my pride was wounded. I fooled myself into thinking that if I left her alone for a bit she would see she needed me and would reconsider the offer.”

              “The offer? Like ya was buyin’ a piece of property? I don’t know nothin’ about a woman gettin’ married, but I think I can pride myself on bein’ a mite smarter than you.”

              “I didn’t know she would leave Chicago. Actually, I was gone when Mr. Wenghold died. I returned as soon as possible when my father contacted me with the news that the Wenghold sisters were in financial straits. He’d also heard a rumor that Robin planned to go west to work on a ranch. I didn’t get back in time to try to stop her.”

              “Where was ya? You rich kids travel to warm climates for the winter, do ya?”

              William stood and took his cup to the sink. “I was on my Uncle Earl Benson’s ranch in Wyoming Territory. I’ve spent my summers there since I was twelve years old. My father thought it would do me good to learn to work with something besides other people’s money.”

              “You there all summer and winter?”

              “No, no. I have an office at my father’s bank. Your brother visited with me there in early September, shortly after his physician gave him the news he had only a few months to live. I proposed to Robin soon after. I reasoned it would give her papa comfort to know she would be provided for. When she refused, I sulked. A short time later we received word my uncle was injured, and it provided me an opportunity to leave Chicago.”

              “Did Robin know where you were? Does she know about this Uncle Earl?” John brushed cookie crumbs off the table.

              “I guess I can’t answer that. I’m not sure my whereabouts mattered to her. It wasn’t unusual for me to be gone often during the summer. Our family owned a small private lake in Michigan. When I was younger, Mother and I would spend as much time as possible there, while my father stayed in the city. I don’t recall ever talking to Robin about my Uncle Earl or my working on his ranch. And I certainly didn’t know you existed until I returned and went to call on Robin.”