“I’m going to the police,” Holland managed to say as he stumbled to the door.
Following him, Sam said, “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll tell them all about you. You’ll be ruined. My father told me he’s heard rumors about you and the things you get up to. People knowing is one thing. Having it made public is another.”
Standing in the doorway, Holland moved the tea towel just long enough to look at the amount blood on it. His nose veered off to one side. “I’d get that nose fixed right now if I were you,” Luke said. “Or you’ll spend the rest of your life looking like a street fighter. You’ll fit in very well down River Street.”
Courtland took Holland’s arm. “Come along, Endicott. Let’s get you to a doctor. And if I were you, I’d tell him you fell on uneven pavement or something.” To Luke and Sam he said, “Clean up that blood, will you? The housekeeper will think there’s been a murder.” He assisted Holland to the top of the stairs, and before they descended, he called out, “I can go to my parents’ for a night. They still allow me in the house. Stay as long as you want.”
Luke closed the door and turned the key to avoid further interruption. “That felt good,” he said. “I’ve imagined that punch for so long.”
“I bet you have.” Sam looked down at the blood on the wood floor, then up at Luke. “Will you be my man again? May I be your man again?”
Smiling, Luke said, “No more lies.”
“There’s nothing else to lie about. You know everything now. Please, Luke. We can make this work. Wait till you hear the plans I have for us.”
“All right, tell me.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
September 1882
Chandler Porter-Smith Agricultural College
Cambridge, Massachusetts
“So how did your first class go?” Sam asked.
Luke looked quickly around the room, knowing there was no one there but making sure out of habit. “Come here, my handsome man.”
Smiling, Sam threw himself into Luke’s arms. “How was the class?” he repeated between kisses.
“I was nervous, but it went well. Everyone paid attention.”
“They wouldn’t dare not pay attention to you.”
“But I want them to respect me,” Luke said. “What I like is that they were all ordinary men like me. Except the one woman.”
Sam chuckled. “There’s nothing ordinary about you, and they do respect you.”
“I meant they’re working-class for the most part. So I could relate to them. They all want to be farmers of some kind or another and to better themselves. They appreciated what I had to teach them.”
Sam slipped his arm through Luke’s while they walked out into the large entrance hall and up the wide, curving staircase to their rooms at the back of the house. They had kept four rooms for themselves: a living room, a bedroom, and they’d put in a kitchen and a bathroom with running water. “Our little house,” Sam always said.
Luke took off his jacket and tie, threw them on the couch, and sat down, stretching his legs out. “Come here.”
“I have to get dinner started, and I have a surprise for you,” Sam said. One of Luke’s demands when they agreed to live together had been that Sam still cook most of their meals, which he did with pleasure.
“Supper, not dinner.” Luke grabbed Sam’s hand and pulled him down beside him. “You don’t want the students to think you’re better than them, do you?”
“Of course not.” Sam kissed him. “Can you believe we’ve done this in less than a year? Twenty students and three teachers and I’m the president of a college at twenty years old.” He grinned and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Next year we’ll have twice as many students. We’ll make this college a viable business.”
Luke had had no idea when Sam first proposed the college that he would become as excited about it as Sam had been. Not only that, but they’d created a program that would give grants to students in financial need. Beyond even that, they could count a woman and two Negroes among the faces in the classroom.
“Some of the men tried to tease our…um, unconventional students today, especially Miss Hastings. I put them in their places,” Luke said.
Luke and Sam had agreed that they didn’t want anyone to feel the way they had been made to feel, not for any reason. Everyone must be welcome. They took great pride in their insistence on equality for all.
“If anyone can put them in their places, it would be you. I know which students I’d sooner keep if it comes to it,” Sam said. “What do you want for supper?”
“Everything you cook is good, but I’d like my favorite.” When Sam tried to get up, Luke held him tight. Sam laughed and began to struggle with him.
“I’m anxious to get started on teaching them how to build a barn and a house, as well as farming. Knowing how to plow a field and plant crops won’t do them much good if they and their livestock freeze in January.”
At last Sam wriggled out of Luke’s arms and headed for the kitchen. Following him, Luke kept talking. “Those greenhouses you put behind the house will be useful for growing tomatoes out of season and starting seeds. What will you cook for me then?”
Sam took eggs and leftover cooked potatoes from the cold box to make potato pancakes. “When you’ve finished the barns and we have cows and chickens and pigs, and when you’ve butchered some of our livestock, we can talk about menus.”
Luke sat at the small table they had brought from the claim. It was covered with Sam’s gingham tablecloth. He watched Sam make the potato pancakes he loved so much. When they were frying, Sam cracked eggs into another pan.
“Do you regret giving up the claim?” Sam asked as he flipped the pancakes.
Luke sat back in his chair, resting his left ankle on his right knee. “I was nervous about it at first. The claim was all I had, but it’s worked out so well. I never thought I could be a teacher or live with you like this. It’s easier in a city than in a little town on the prairie.”
Sam got the dishes out—good porcelain dishes and good silverware. He piled food onto their plates and put Luke’s supper in front of him. The pickle jar stood between them, holding flowers bought from a shop. Luke had brought it back along with his grandmother’s quilt, which still kept them warm at night, and the bed they had first been intimate on.
“It’s a life I never dreamed of. When I went back to De Smet to sell the stock and the furniture we didn’t want, nobody in town believed me when I told them we were starting an agricultural college. Now we’re here together, you and me. Pip and Pretty Girl are back together. I get to visit my mother and the family often. Most of all, I have you.”
Using only a fork to eat, Luke took Sam’s hand in his and held it tight.
“We’re married now, Luke.” Sam smiled.
“You still acting like an idiot?” Luke asked.
“As far as I’m concerned, we’re married. Let’s go out tomorrow and buy matching rings. You buy mine, and I’ll buy yours.”
“Rings are a waste of money. We’ll look like a couple of dandies, and everyone will notice,” Luke said.
“Those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind, my darling man,” Sam said.
Luke thought of his mother, who had been so unexpectedly kind about Sam and their love. Matching rings would make Sam happy, and there was nothing he wanted more than to make his man happy. “All right. We’ll buy matching rings.”
“And!” Sam let go of Luke’s hand. “I was busy while you were teaching this afternoon.” He crossed the kitchen to the bread bin on the long wooden counter. “I always promised you a cake, and I never made it.” From the bread bin he took an elegant layer cake frosted with white icing, curlicues, and flowers. With a flourish he brought it to the table.
Luke looked at it with admiration. “It’s so cleverly done and so big. It looks like a wedding cake.”
“It is big,” Sam agreed. “I invited Courtland and the new boy he’s seeing to come over later for cake and sherry. So we have a cake, and we’ll buy rings tomorrow.”
“Our makeshift wedding,” Luke said. He could have cried with happiness, but he didn’t. “I love you, Sam.”
“I know.” Sam sat down again, and they finished their supper together.
Loose Id Titles by Fyn Alexander
Knightly Love
Precious Jade
Rent Boy
The Skinny on Love
Winter Hearts
* * * *
The ANGEL AND THE ASSASSIN Series
Angel and the Assassin
Be Brave
Sins of the Father
Fyn Alexander
Fyn Alexander grew up in the UK with a great love of books, libraries, writing and all things literary. Fyn loves writing, being a foster parent, and considers her greatest accomplishments to be her two beautiful daughters, who also love to write.
Find out more about Fyn at
http://fynalexander.wordpress.com