Dakota Cowboy. Linda Ford

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      She lifted her head. This was nothing she couldn’t handle. “Let’s get some lunch from the dining room.” Hettie would willingly give them a portable lunch. Lucy thought she’d take him to the park where the young people tended to congregate on Sunday afternoons. Safety in numbers.

      When they arrived at the dining room and she told Hettie what she wanted, the woman practically crowed. “Off to courting corner, are you?”

      Lucy gave her a look of devout distaste, grateful Wade had waited outside, out of hearing distance. “I’m not interested in courting, only in having lots of people around so I don’t have to personally amuse him.”

      Hettie chortled. “I suppose that’s why all the other young people go there, too?”

      “I wouldn’t know.”

      “Now, don’t get all prickly with me, Lucy gal. I recall a time or two you’ve been there with some anxious young man.”

      “I don’t need a man.”

      “So you say. You’ll change your mind soon enough when the right one comes along.” She handed Lucy a basket full of food. “Now, off you go. Have fun. Who knows? This might be the right one.”

      Lucy thanked Hettie and waited until she was almost out the door to add, “Not in a million years.” She’d never trust her happiness and future to any man.

      Thanks to Hettie’s comments, she felt conspicuous as she led Wade to the park where she was certain everyone she met had the same sly look in their eyes, and similar thoughts in their heads.

      At least Wade had no idea how people viewed a harmless little jaunt to the park.

      She saw a spot under a sprawling group of trees where several others she knew gathered. Mr. and Mrs. Nolan sat by themselves on a nearby bench. With three daughters of courting age, they usually spent the afternoon at the park, providing proper supervision.

      “Over there.” Lucy pointed toward the group.

      “They your friends?” Wade looked toward a more secluded spot where an umbrella of branches provided an alarming amount of privacy. “It’s quieter over there.”

      “They’ll be glad to let us join them.” She didn’t give him a chance to say yea or nay. She had no intention of being shepherded to a place where they would be alone, knowing he would likely consider it an opportunity to tell her how she ought to visit her father. She led him to her choice of location and introduced him to the group—most of whom had been at church earlier. After a round of greetings, she found a roomy spot and allowed Wade to spread the blanket Hettie had put in the basket.

      The afternoon heat made everyone mellow. Lucy was glad no one prodded her with questions about Wade. She didn’t want to talk about him. She didn’t want to explain who he was, what he was doing here.

      Hettie had packed fried chicken and fresh buns for Lucy, which they’d both enjoyed. Lucy took out a plate of cookies and offered it to Wade.

      He took one. “I see there are certain advantages to working in a dining room.” He slanted an amused look toward the next couple who’d had only syrup sandwiches.

      “I don’t think they noticed.” It was the youngest Nolan girl and a farm boy.

      “If they did, they didn’t seem to care.” Wade leaned close. “I think they’re more interested in their sparking.”

      His breath warmed her cheeks, filling her with a curious sense of longing.

      She pushed away the idea. Only thing she longed for was her self-sufficiency. Life was meant to be lived, enjoyed, embraced, not spent clasping hopeless dreams based on empty promises from a man.

      She would not be like her mother.

      Wade still leaned close, his gaze warm as sun flashing on a quiet lake, his expression curiously watchful, as if wanting something from her.

      She shifted away, turned to gather the remnants of their lunch into the basket. She knew what he wanted—for her to visit her father. But she wouldn’t do it. She’d already given her father too many chances, wasted too many hopes and dreams on him.

      Lawrence, a young man who seemed to escort a different gal to the park every week, picked up his guitar and began to pluck out a tune. He had a liking for popular ballads, which made him a hit with both sexes. He began to sing “Oh! Susanna.” Soon, more young people crowded around, joining their voices to his as he went from one popular tune to another.

      Lucy loved the songs and joined right in. She didn’t have to look directly at Wade to see he wasn’t singing. At first she thought he didn’t know the newer songs, but even when they sang some old hymns he didn’t join. She tried to remember if he’d sung at church, but she’d been too busy mentally kicking herself for agreeing to spend the afternoon with him to pay attention.

      She focused on the next song, and tried not to think of Wade sitting there quietly. He shifted, stretched out his legs, and leaned back on his right elbow. Was he bored? Restless? Through some perverse idea that God wanted her to entertain this stranger, she’d volunteered her afternoon. If Wade chose to be not entertained by the music, that wasn’t her problem. She’d done all that could be expected of her.

      He sat up straight and pulled his knees to his chin. She didn’t miss how he shuffled about so he could stare at her.

      “An angel wouldn’t stare,” she whispered.

      “You’ve known a few, have you?”

      “No. But I know they wouldn’t.”

      “Well, see, I’m not so sure. I think they watch us all the time.”

      She rolled her eyes to signify how silly she considered this conversation.

      “Let’s go for a walk.” He bounced to his feet and held out a hand before she could refuse. She automatically let him pull her to her feet but withdrew from his grasp before they had gone two steps.

      They headed past Mr. and Mrs. Nolan. Mrs. Nolan was writing a letter. Mr. Nolan was lying in the shade, his hat pulled over his eyes.

      Lucy waited until they were far enough away from the music to be able to converse easily before she spoke. “I noticed you didn’t sing.”

      “If you heard me you’d know for sure I was no angel.” His tone carried a hint of self-mockery. “Cowboys normally sing to the cattle at night to calm them. I tried it once. The cows all signed a petition requesting I stop.”

      She laughed at the idea of cows signing a piece of paper. “Did they read it for you, too?”

      “Read it myself but the head cow stepped on my foot to emphasize the point.” He paused to rub at the toe of his boot as if his foot still hurt.

      She laughed harder at his silliness. “It can’t be that bad.”

      “Oh, yes it can.”

      Now she wanted nothing more than to hear and judge for herself. “Show me.”

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