Chapter Nine
EVEN THOUGH HE’D BEENawake all night, Luke managed to make it out to the bunkhouse at the crack of dawn the next morning. Neither Hank nor Joe seemed surprised to see him.
They took his help, or lack of it, without comment. Hank poured him a cup of the thick, dark swill that passed for coffee and nodded to a place at the warped, rickety table. “You working with us today, boss?”
Luke sat down, and Joe handed him a plate of eggs and bacon. “Yeah,” he muttered, taking a bite. He fought the need to explain why he hadn’t worked all week. The crotchety old pair had no patience for weakness, and he hated the pitying looks on their faces whenever he admitted to going on a drinking binge.
Neither of the old coots had ever married, so he doubted they’d be any more sympathetic if he told them about Sarah.
“Seen your brother came for a visit.” Hank sat down beside him and started wolfing down his food.
“Yeah.” Luke glanced up at Joe and caught a glimpse of a smile poking through the old man’s thick gray beard. Shit. He should have known nothing he did ever stayed a secret from these two for long. “I guess you know about the girl?”
Hank grunted and shoveled in another mouthful of food while Joe’s smile widened.
Luke shook his head. “That damned Matt sent away for her. A mail-order bride. Can you believe it?”
Joe’s smile faded. “You need a woman, boss.”
Hank chortled his agreement. “Hell, there’s been many a time I told ol’ Joe what you needed was a good poke. Ain’t right for a man your age to live up here with only a couple ol’ geezers like us for company.”
Luke stared at the two of them in stunned disbelief. “I’ll tell the two of you what I told my brother.” He shoved his plate away and stomped toward the door, determined not to stick around and listen to any more of this. “Stay out of my business.”
“Sure thing, boss.” Joe’s laughter followed him out the door.
* * * * *
SARAH ATE HER SOLITARYbreakfast quickly, trying to keep her glance from straying too often to Luke’s empty chair. She’d been alone for most of the last few years, so it was silly to feel this sense of loss over having to eat by herself.
Luke’s company had spoiled her. He was the only man she’d ever met who treated her as though she had something worth saying. Even her father and brothers had never listened to her the way he did.
She finished her meal, rinsed off her plate, and then left the kitchen to concentrate on the rest of the house. She’d finished the parlor last night, after Luke retired for the night. Pausing in the doorway, she admired the results. The room fairly gleamed. The heavy drapes were open, and sunlight bathed the wooden floors. She took a deep breath, inhaling the lemony fragrance of furniture polish instead of must and neglect.
She turned around, her gaze resting upon the music room across the hall. She would begin there, she decided, and work her way from the front of the house to the back.
Hurrying back to the kitchen, she returned moments later with her cleaning supplies. She scrubbed layers of dirt from the room for over half an hour. When she reached the corner where the scattered art supplies lay, she found something completely unexpected.
