A Gift From the Heart
"I'm telling you, Mrs. Larson, your Jens would be the sharpest-looking man in the territory in one of these."
"You're a goot salesman, Tompkins, but vee bote know der isn't a shirt made vill make my man look like anything but da old plough hoss he is," the portly woman laughed.
Louise "Lou" McCloud watched the exchange through a gap in a stack of canned goods. She'd come into the store on an errand for Rachel. All the riders were hearty eaters, and as carefully as Rachel managed the larder, there was often a need to restock a few staples before the monthly shopping excursion. She'd gathered up the cornmeal, dried beans and sugar Rachel had sent her for and set them on the long counter at the front of the store; with Tompkins occupied with his sales pitch to Mrs. Larson in the dry goods section, Lou had a few minutes to browse.
She would have liked to peruse Tompkins' limited selection of ladies' things, even though admiring the new bonnets and kid gloves and dainty, lace-up bootlets often made her feel a little sad. Pretending to be a boy had allowed her to make an honest living for herself and save up some for her future … but underneath her shirt and dungarees, Louise McCloud was a real girl, and it hurt that she seldom had a chance to look and feel pretty. Kid used to make her feel beautiful, the way he looked at her even when she'd just come in from a three-days' ride, covered in dust and stinking to high heaven. But that was before.
Tompkins was holding up a sample of a supply of fine shirts he'd just gotten in, and it was this that he was trying to coax Mrs. Larson into buying.
"How much?" the woman asked in her soft, Scandinavian accent.
"Just $3," Tompkins responded.
His answer caused Mrs. Larson to hoot out loud. "Ja, and ven Jens asks after his supper, I'll tell him to eat da shirt I bought mit da grocery money."
Acknowledging defeat, Tompkins folded up the shirt and set it back on the stack on the table. Still chatting, he and Mrs. Larson drifted toward the cash register, allowing Lou to move closer to the menswear they had been discussing.
The item the storekeeper had shown his customer was a men's shirt, fawn in color and made of a fine grade of linen. Lou couldn't help reaching out to run a finger over the soft material. She imagined how it would look skimming over the Kid's broad shoulders and outlining his muscular torso. Like the rest of the Express riders, Kid didn't have many clothes. And over the past several months of hard work and good food on the ranch, his frame had filled out. The skinny, boyish fellow who'd joined the riders more than a year ago had developed into a strong, well-built man. As a result, his favorite outfit, a matching set of buckskin trousers and tunic, had begun to fit a bit snug on him. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing, Lou reflected, thinking of how the body-hugging ensemble accentuated his physique.
All of the older boys (Jesse didn't count) were handsome, but there was just something special about the Kid. Looking at him was a pure pleasure. She knew every inch of the man, from the square set of his jaw to the smooth planes and sharp angles of his body. Knew them better than she had a right to, she thought, feeling her cheeks grow a little warm at the memory of exploring that tanned flesh thoroughly back before they stopped "riding double," as Jimmy would say.
Too far, too fast. That's what Lou had told Kid when she turned down his proposal. She could admit to herself now that a part of her had hoped he would argue, reassure her that it hadn't been wrong to give themselves to each other "like married folks," because the strength of their love bound them as surely as any two who had stood before a preacher before they climbed into a bed.
But Kid hadn't said that. He had walked away, leaving her with a hole in her heart – a well of regret, loneliness and loss that all the tears in the world couldn't fill. It wasn't even the physical intimacy she missed most (though that had gotten better the more they practiced). No, it was another kind of closeness she craved and pined for: the feeling of knowing, and being known.
As well as she knew him with her five senses – the blue of his eyes, his musky scent, the sweet-salt taste of his skin, the rough callouses on his so-gentle hands, the steady drumbeat of his heart under her ear as she lay atop him – as familiar as these were, Lou had believed she knew Kid's soul even better.
In her short time at the orphanage, Lou was given a few piano lessons. The sisters had considered that a proper skill for a young lady to develop. She remembered sitting before the keyboard and stretching her small hand as far as she could, striking first one note with her pinky and another with her thumb. She had felt the resonance thrum through her: two tones an octave apart, yet the same note. That's how it had felt with Kid almost from the moment he had learned her secret. Long before Redfern they had shared the deepest parts of themselves with each other. During leisurely trail rides, or sitting on the bank of the pond, or working side by side in the barn, Lou and Kid had talked about what was important to them … their hopes and dreams … incidents from their pre-rider days that they wouldn't tell anyone else. Not all their secrets, of course. Lou suspected there were bits of Kid's past he held to himself – and she certainly kept some things hidden that she hoped he'd never learn.
Their break-up had severed that bond, leaving a vacuum that made Lou feel hollow inside. For a short time she'd thought she might find a similar closeness with Jimmy. But she had almost immediately realized it wasn't to be. She loved Jimmy in a way, but he reminded her of Rex, one of the horses they used during their regular circuit. He was a chestnut-brown stallion, sleek of coat and fleet of hoof. In fact, he was the fastest of all the horses they rode along the Express route. Rex never cantered when he could run – and when he ran, it was always at a break-neck pace, at the very edge of running away with his rider. Riding a horse like that was thrilling, exhilarating … for a while. But at the end of a run on Rex, a rider was exhausted, sore and longing for home. Jimmy Hickok, with his moodiness, quick-on-the-draw temper and penchant for getting into confrontations, was like Rex. Exciting, but in a way that wore a person out after a while. Kid, on the other hand …
Kid was home.
He was a smile wide as the prairie at the end of a long run. He was a protective arm around her shoulders and a playful nudge to her ribs. He was blue eyes sparkling with humor and warm with affection. He was a soft voice soothing her when she was upset, and a strong, steady hand holding hers when she was anxious.
Lou smiled to herself, thinking of how, no matter what time of day or night she rode in from a run, she would see him from a distance, on the porch of the bunkhouse. Watching and waiting for her … and then ducking hurriedly inside as soon as he caught sight of her, thinking he hadn't been seen. If only she could make him understand that it wasn't him worrying about her that bothered her; truthfully, she loved knowing that he was thinking of and fretting some over her. She haunted that same porch herself when he was due in, scanning the horizon for the cloud of dust kicked up by Katy's hooves – her signal that he was safely home.
It wasn't even Kid's compulsion to take care of her that rankled. She was touched and grateful when she rode in after a long day and found Lightning's stall had been mucked out and a pail of feed and fresh water was ready for him. That Kid continued to provide these small courtesies and so many others even after they parted ways was a testament to what a gentleman – what a truly good man - he really was.
No, it wasn't Kid's caring for her that drove her away. It was his need to treat her like a lady – when she knew she didn't deserve the title. Kid didn't know it, though. And she'd rather live without him than have him find out about what happened with Wicks. Or at least she'd thought so at the time she refused his ring. Now …
She wasn't so sure.
After a few weeks of painful estrangement, Lou and Kid had broken through their mutual hurts and resentments in the aftermath of the mission to rescue Teaspoon's surrogate daughter from the outlaw Pike. Lou still kept his letter to her in a cigar box in her trunk, along with a picture of her siblings and her mother's cameo brooch – all the most precious things she had in the world. In that missive, scrawled in Kid's painfully labored handwriting, he had confessed how he still cared about her. And after she'd defied his plea for her to stay put with Rachel instead of joining in the dangerous rescue attempt – even though she'd essentially proven him right by getting herself captured – Kid seemed to understand and accept why she'd had to do it. Or perhaps he was just as sick with loneliness for her as she was for him. Heartache is a persuasive argument for compromise.
Lou fingered the collar and sleeves of the shirt. The material was heavy; it would be an effective barrier against the stiff, prairie winds. Nice and warm. Like Kid's big heart, which he tended to wear pinned to his sleeve. As quiet as he kept about his past and as cool and controlled as he was in dangerous situations, in general Kid wasn't much good at hiding his feelings. Quick with a smile and always ready to laugh, the young Virginian also betrayed his darker moods through the tense set of his jaw, the eyes turned steely with anger or clouded with pain. He'd never tried to disguise how he felt about Lou, right from the moment he impulsively kissed her after she'd thanked him for not exposing her secret (it was her first, and had taken her breath away and left her giddy and shy).
She could read him like a book: the way Kid looked at her, as if she were the most beautiful thing in the world … the tenderness in his touch … the worry that creased his forehead when he thought she was in danger … Lou's mind cast back to that moment at the mission, when Pike had lifted her on the cross and she'd looked down to see Kid on Katy looking up at her. He'd seemed frozen, his face taut with tension, his eyes bright with horror. As precarious as her own situation was at that moment, she had been more afraid for him. He sat still as a statue on his horse, only a reflexive move toward his pistol betraying his desperation to do something. Perhaps only someone who knew him very well would have seen the anguish behind his stoic demeanor. Lou knew him that well, and her heart had cried out to him silently, willing him not to do anything rash.
In contrast to Kid's open nature, Lou was much more reserved. In part that was about maintaining her camouflage as a boy. She tended to keep her chin down and her hat pulled low over her eyes, her arms crossed over her admittedly modest bosom. Her withdrawn and solemn demeanor was more than just a disguise, however. It was a shield she placed between herself and a world that had given her little enough reason to smile. She stayed in the background, kept her mouth shut and slunk around like a little mouse in order to avoid attention, discourage interaction. If she kept to herself, no one could hurt her.
It astonished her, then, when she found herself opening up to Kid so willingly – so naturally. Alone with him, Lou could laugh and smile and dance. She could glow in the light of his admiration and surrender to the sweet comfort of his embrace. And she could touch. In fact, she found it almost impossible in Kid's presence not to reach out, smooth her small, delicate hands over his chest or gently rub his back and shoulders. Her fingers wandered of their own accord to the soft curls at the back of his collar and her palm seemed to bend perfectly around the curve of his cheek. With his strong arms around her, Lou's head fell naturally into the crook of his neck, her torso fit snug and cozy against his body.
Lou had never known how sweet, how intoxicating, it could be to be close to someone like that. She craved it like a laudanum user needed the little blue bottle. When things were really bad between them, when even sitting across the supper table from him was a torture, Lou had thought she might go crazy. Her hands itched to finger the buttons on his shirt, fuss at his collar, smooth the yoke of his shirt over his shoulders. Her arms ached to loop around his waist or stretch to make a circle around his neck.
If only she could put into words what her body was shouting with each unconscious brush against him, each shy smile into his soft eyes, each tentative reach of her small hand toward his. Her great fear was that Kid really didn't know how she felt about him, even though it seemed to her that the whole world must see it in her face whenever he was near. Why couldn't she just tell him outright? Why did she have to talk in muddy circles and hope he got the picture? "I ain't goin' anywhere," she had told him when he was feeling alone after Charlotte and Garth's deaths. Behind those four simple words were a world of intended meaning, her heart in her hands as an offering. She wasn't going anywhere, because there was nothing anywhere in the world for her without him. Because how could she live without the other half of her soul?
And for once … he seemed to understand. He'd looked at her with surprise, and hope, and that warm light that was only for her. Things had been better between them since then. It wasn't the same as it had been, but in some ways it felt better. More real. Stronger. Unlike the destructive inferno of their early passion, their relationship now was a steady flame over bright embers. It warmed them and lighted their way forward. At least, Lou hoped they were moving toward something – even if she wasn't exactly sure what that was.
Right now, though, she knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted Kid to have this shirt. She wanted to give it to him and see his eyes light up. She wanted to watch him ride out on a run wearing it, knowing it would keep him warm. Knowing he would think of her when he turned up the collar against a harsh west wind.
The bell above the shop door jangled as Mrs. Larson, having finished her shopping, left the store. Tompkins now strolled over to Lou.
"Something I can help you with, son?"
Lou lowered her chin and spoke in as deep a voice as she could muster. "I'd like to buy one of these men's shirts."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Lou. I don't have any boys' sizes in stock. Got some nice flannel ones over here, though, that would fit you." He started toward the table holding the children's clothing.
"Ain't for me," Lou answered gruffly. "'S fer … my uncle. He's gotta birthday coming up."
Tompkins returned to the table of merchandise. "I don't believe I know your uncle. Is he from around here?"
She shook her head, growing more agitated with every tangle in this yarn she was spinning. "Nah, he's a rancher outside of Laramie. I-I don't see him much."
"Awful nice of you to get him a shirt of this quality, then."
Lou shrugged, just about ready to forget the whole thing. "Uh, he's my only kin. And … he's had a fire. Lost everything he had." As Tompkins continued to look at her a little skeptically, she hastily added, "Also, he's gettin' married. So … um … I wanted him to have somethin' special. For the honeymoon."
A smile – or was it a smirk – crossed the wily shopkeeper's face. "Well, that's a mighty fine idea, Mr. McCloud. Just what size were you thinking you need for your uncle?"
Now Lou was really panicked. She had no idea about men's sizes. "Ahh … largish?"
"Maybe if you could describe your uncle … is there anybody around here about his size?"
"Kid," Lou responded, perhaps a little too quickly. "That is, I think he'd be more or less around that size. My uncle, I mean."
Tompkins grinned in a way that made Lou wonder whether the storekeeper was more observant than he let on. But he merely shuffled through the pile of shirts on the table and pulled one out. "I believe this would just about fit K- your uncle." As he handed it to Lou, he added, "You know the price is $3, right?"
"Yes'sir." Lou acknowledged, digging into the front pocket of her dungarees for her money clip. She took the shirt up to the counter and laid out three crisp, $1 bills. Thompkins folded the shirt neatly and wrapped it in brown paper. Then he rang up and charged the groceries for Rachel.
"You should have Kid try on that shirt," Thompkins said casually as he handed it over. At her surprised look, he added, "To make sure it fits your uncle. If it don't, bring it back and we'll try a different size."
Lou nodded and pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. "Thank you, Mr. Tompkins." As she turned to go, Thompkins gave her that sly smile again. "Give my best to your uncle," he called after her, "and tell him he's mighty lucky to have a niece who's so attached to him."
The young rider heard the merchant's hearty laugh behind her, but didn't care. Her head was full of imagining Kid's face when she surprised him with this present. She only hoped he would grasp the real meaning behind this gift of the heart.