Dakota Cowboy. Linda Ford

      “Lucy has a poem to say.” Roy sounded as proud as a papa.

      “It’s the literary society.” Lucy’s tone made it plain that a cowboy wouldn’t enjoy such.

      “I like recitations.” A lifetime ago he’d hovered behind a half-closed door and listened to recitations and music playing in the drawing room of the house where his ma worked. “I’d like to go if it’s open to cowboys.”

      She didn’t miss his mocking tone and looked slightly regretful.

      “Go with him,” Roy urged. “Ain’t you the one to always say a person shouldn’t be afraid to take a chance now and then?”

      Lucy closed her eyes and sighed deeply. “Roy, do you write down everything I say and commit it to memory to quote at the most awkward moments?”

      Roy got that hurt look again but Lucy smiled at him and squeezed his shoulder.

      “You’ll go?”

      “Of course I’ll go. I’m going to recite.”

      Roy shook his head. “I mean with him.”

      Lucy studied Roy a long moment. “I don’t see why it’s so important to you.”

      “I want you to be safe.”

      Lucy ruffled his hair. “For you, I’ll do it.” She faced Wade, an expression of pure stubbornness on her face. “On one condition.” She waited for him to accept.

      “Can’t hardly agree to something when I don’t know what it is.”

      “You promise not to talk about my father.”

      He swallowed, weighing his options. His primary reason for wanting to go to the event had been to explain why Lucy must visit her father. But a pack of other reasons overtook that one. It had been a lifetime or two since he’d heard poetry. He imagined Lucy speaking with the laughter in her voice that she seemed to reserve for everyone but him. But poetry and a musical voice mattered not. He had to convince Lucy to visit her father. Perhaps if he bided his time, she would get curious and ask after Scout.

      “Deal.” Yes, he’d promised not to talk about her father. He hadn’t, however, promised not to talk about himself.

      Chapter Two

      Wade couldn’t help but stare at Lucy. When he’d first seen her, serving in the dining room, she’d worn a black skirt, a white top and a crisp white apron with frills along the edges. Her hair had been up in a tight bun although bits of it had come loose. She now wore a dark pink dress with a wide pink ribbon around her tiny waist. A few more strands of hair had also fallen loose from her bun. She looked very pretty. Like some kind of candy.

      Wade glanced down at his trousers, suddenly aware he might not be fit to attend a literary society function. But having gained Lucy’s agreement to let him accompany her, he wasn’t about to let his lack of Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes hinder him.

      She tilted her head in the direction they were to go.

      He whistled for Two Bit to follow, nodded goodbye to Roy and fell in at Lucy’s side.

      She waited until they turned from the alley into the street before she spoke. “I’m only doing this for Roy.”

      Her words were so unnecessary he couldn’t help but laugh. “And all this time I thought it was my irresistible charm. You sure do know how to cut a man down to size.”

      She looked vaguely troubled by his comment. “I got no need of a man.”

      “I ain’t offering to marry you.”

      “That’s not what I meant. I meant I don’t need a man to escort me to the recitation.”

      “I still ain’t offering.” He had been alone for a long time. Preferred it that way.

      They reached the schoolroom that apparently served as home to the literary society and crowded inside with the others. All the windows had been shoved up and the doors at both ends propped open to let in air. Still, the place was like an oven ready for baking bread. Lucy led him to a desk near the front and they crowded in side by side. It was a tight squeeze. He noted how nicely she fit at his side, her head inches above his shoulder so every time he turned her way he could study how straight and fine her nose was. He could admire the color of her hair again and see how it shone in the slanting light from the open door. He squeezed his hands together to keep from touching her hair, aching to know if it felt as silky as it looked. He realized he still wore his hat and snatched it off to scrunch it to his lap.

      Again he marveled that a body as pretty and as sweet-smelling as Lucy’s—like a field of clover in full bloom—could house a heart of coal. He tightened his mouth. He’d endure her pressed to his side, tolerate how nice she smelled and ignore the way her hair begged to be touched all for the sake of finding a chance to persuade her to show some human decency and visit her father.

      Thankfully, it was soon time for the program to begin and he could concentrate on the proceedings.

      A man with a handlebar moustache stood and welcomed everyone. And then the recitations began. Wade laughed at the story of a man searching for his horse and running into all sorts of calamities. His amusement grew by leaps and bounds as he met Lucy’s laughing eyes. He forced his attention back to the front of the room as a frail lady recited two Psalms. A young girl did a sweet poem of hope and love. Then Lucy rose. She fairly glowed as she began to speak, putting her heart into every word.

      Wade had heard the poem before and knew what to expect, but enjoyed it just as much as the others who alternated between laughter and tears.

      Lucy returned to her place at his side amidst clapping, cheering and shouts of “Bully for you, Lucy gal.” Twin roses bloomed on her cheeks. She gave Wade a look he could only interpret as triumphant.

      For a moment, he couldn’t take his eyes off her then he forced himself to remember why he was here and what she was like beneath all that charm and good humor.

      Three more recitations and the program ended. Wade bolted to his feet, his chest tight with a nameless anxiety. He had to get Lucy alone so he could talk to her, explain why it was so necessary to make the trek to the ranch.

      But before his muddled brain could devise a plan, a black-clad woman called for their attention. “Tea and cake will be served outside. Ten cents each. Remember the money all goes to buying a bell for our church.”

      “Let’s go.” Lucy grabbed his arm. “I want to get a piece of Mrs. Adam’s chocolate cake.”

      Seemed everyone had the same idea. A stampede tried to squeeze out the door, pushing Lucy tight to Wade’s side. He discovered she not only fit like they were meant for each other, but that it was going to be nearly impossible to keep his thoughts on the purpose of his visit. He grunted as someone elbowed him. “Trouble with being at the front is you’re the tail going out,” he murmured.

      Lucy groaned. “I know all that chocolate cake will be gone.”

      A young man in a suit and tie, with a complexion the color of biscuit dough, allowed himself to be jostled against Lucy. Wade felt her stiffen, knew she didn’t appreciate the boldness of this dandified man. Wade edged forward just enough to push the man away. And then they were through the door, in the open where a person could breathe without inhaling someone else’s air. He grabbed Lucy’s elbow and hustled her to the table. ’Course he didn’t have to do much hustling. He was hard-pressed to keep up to her as she made the hundred-yard dash to the table covered with a selection of cakes. He dropped twenty cents into the plate and got two cups of tea in exchange.

      “Look, there’s a piece left.” She dived for it and emerged crowing with triumph. A thought seemed to choke her pleasure. She glanced from the cake to Wade. Doubt clouded her face. “I could…”

      She was considering giving up her cake after wrestling it from the kid behind her who now glared daggers