by Linda Ford
She stepped back. “It’s never mind to me what you’re hiding.” The way she hoisted her ax warned him she intended to get back to work. And if he was smart, he would step out of ax range.
“Thanks for your kindness to Cora.”
She snorted.
He picked up the reins and moved away. Life was what it was, and he couldn’t change the fact.
By the time he got back to the campsite Mandy had already returned and added another layer of branches to her—whatever it was. He couldn’t dignify it by calling it a house. He dragged a log to where he needed it and stood back to admire his work. Now this was a house.
Mandy and Cora were both out of sight on the other side of Mandy’s building. He heard shrieks of laughter; then Cora and Mandy raced around the corner, chasing Goliath. The cat ran between Trace’s feet and crouched behind the log, watching for the girls.
Mandy touched Cora’s arm. “Shh. You go that way, I’ll go this. We’ll corner him.”
They tiptoed forward. The kitten picked up his ears, well aware of their every movement.
Cora crept up beside Trace. Mandy edged to the other end of the log. She nodded her head, and both sprang toward the cat. Goliath jumped over the log and darted back toward Mandy’s house, Cora and Mandy in hot pursuit.
Trace leaned back and laughed heartily. Cora ignored him and continued the chase, but Mandy drew up short and faced him. She glanced toward Cora, who disappeared around the corner. Then her gaze rested on the twigs she’d dragged in.
He waited, wanting her to look at him, wanting to assure himself she held no ill will toward him. Finally, almost reluctantly, she rewarded his patience and studied him as if seeing him for the first time.
What did he want? Forgiveness? For what? For not being open with her? No, he realized. Because she was hurt by his secretiveness.
“Maybe someday,” he murmured, not certain she would understand his meaning.
She flashed a smile and nodded.
His lungs expanded fully as if a weight had been yanked off his chest.
“I’m not only persistent,” she said. “I’m patient.”
“Nice to know.” Their gaze held until he felt hope building in his heart and jerked away. “Got to finish my house.” His words sounded thick.
“Yup. You get right at it. I want it as near completion as possible when I sign the deed.” She laughed.
For some reason her remarks amused him. He couldn’t say why, except it felt a whole lot more like they were partners than rivals.
The morning passed pleasantly enough as they worked side by side. Again Cora invited Mandy to share their lunch, and she agreed.
“Tomorrow I’ll bring something,” she promised.
“Can you cook?” He tried to picture her over a stove with an apron about her waist.
“Depends what you mean by cooking.” Her smile teased.
“Normally, I would mean put a pot on the stove, fill it with meat or potatoes, and cook them. Maybe put a pie in the oven.”
“Well, Joanna is the pie baker. None of us can do near as well as her.”
He waited. Nothing. As if that answered his question. “So you make the best”—he left plenty of time for her to insert something, anything—“uh, pudding?”
She shook her head.
“Mashed potatoes?”
A little one-shoulder shrug as if anyone could do mashed potatoes.
He looked at Cora for suggestions, but she had nothing to offer.
“Biscuits? Bread?”
“Nope.”
“Then what?”
“I can turn a venison roast into the tastiest bit of meat you’ve ever imagined.”
“Really? And how do you do that?”
She leaned forward, spoke close to his ear. “’Fraid I can’t tell you. It’s a secret.” She leaned back, a satisfied look gleaming from her eyes. “You know how it is with secrets.”
Yes, he did. And he understood she’d gained a little victory by refusing to share one with him, even though it involved nothing more important than meat.
Silently, they challenged each other. Then she grinned. “Tell you what I’ll do though. I’ll cook a nice big roast for you so you can see for yourself.” She sprang to her feet, humming as she returned to her work.
Despite the cooler morning, the afternoon grew still and hot, forcing them to retreat to the shade several times for a break.
Cora offered to help Trace but he refused, telling her to stay away from the logs. He hated seeing the flash of hurt in her face as she backed off. Thankfully she turned her attention to the kitten and enticed it into the shade. A few minutes later Mandy and Trace flung themselves down on the grass beside Cora to cool off.
Mandy shifted to look across the valley. “I wonder if Levi and Glory are able to work.”
“What are they doing?” Trace lounged back, knowing this guileless woman would share the information freely.
“I told you Levi’s the preacher man Glory is going to marry. She was certainly suspicious of him to start with.” She told about a sister who rode like a wild man, who shod horses and worked with the abused ones. She told of a preacher who came to town. “Glory said he dressed more like a cowboy than a preacher. But now they’re crazy in love.” She rolled her eyes. “I do mean crazy. They don’t even mind kissing in front of others.”
Trace laughed at the way she wrinkled her nose.
“They’re building a mission house to care for orphans, the sick, and the elderly. As soon as they’re done, they’re going to get hitched, though Joanna thinks they should wait until the town builds a church.”
“No church?”
“Nope. Sunday services are held outdoors. If it rains, we cram into the stopping house. Say. . .” She craned her neck to look at him. “You and Cora ought to come to the Sunday service and meet my family.”
Cora gasped.
Trace shook his head. “’Fraid we aren’t planning to go out in public now or at any time in the foreseeable future.” He could see arguments building in Mandy’s head. “Cora’s not comfortable around others.” He wasn’t about to try and change her mind either. He didn’t want to go to church. Didn’t want to be reminded that his anger toward those who hurt him was wrong. Didn’t want to be told God was in control, and he should forgive.
Mandy shifted her attention to Cora. “Cora, you should reconsider.”
Cora lifted her bonnet from where it rested on her shoulders, tied it to her head, and pulled the sides close around her face.
Mandy sighed. “Forget church then. Come to the stopping house and meet my sisters. They’ve asked after you. I’ll do my roast for Sunday dinner. How’s that?”
Cora shook her head. “Trace, you go. I’ll be fine here. I have Goliath to keep me company.”
“I don’t think that’s wise.” But at Mandy’s expression—gentle pleading, hopeful anticipation—he added, “I’ll think about it.” Victory and pleasure gleamed in her eyes, and he almost regretted giving her any encouragement. She would likely take it as an open invitation to badger him into agreeing.
And yet he realized he didn’t mind the idea of her trying to persuade him. Not at all.
❧
I’ll think about it. She’d make sure he did. Today was Friday. If she couldn’t convince him to come and at least visit her sisters by Saturday evening, she might as well stop being Mandy.
Satisfied she’d find a way, she returned to work, finished for the day, and headed back to Bonners Ferry and her chores.
Before daylight the next day she was out in the woods with her rifle. Deer stole through the pink dawn to water at the river. She waited until most of them finished and moved away. Then, feeling the same reluctance she always did at killing such an innocent, beautiful creature, she downed a young buck. The shot echoed through the trees, sending protesting birds from the top branches. She dressed the animal, quartered it, hung the pieces from the back of her horse, and carried it back to the stopping house.
“Good.” Joanna took the bounty. “We were starting to get low on meat. Have to feed the men well if we expect to keep in business.”
Mandy refrained from pointing out they could serve hard beans and people would eat there because they had no other option, but she knew what Joanna meant. They had a reputation of good food to maintain. “Save a nice big roast for Sunday.”
“Oh?”
“Yup. I’m expecting company.” She grinned at Joanna’s surprise.
“Trace and Cora?” Joanna asked.
“Yup.”
Glory’s arrival was announced by the pounding of horse hooves then she rushed in, her hair in disarray, smelling of horseflesh. She caught Joanna’s question. “Ohh. Trace is coming to visit.”
Mandy ignored her teasing grin. “I told him I cook the best venison roast in the world. So now I have to prove it.”
“I’ll be happy to meet them,” Joanna said, turning her attention to the meat. “I’ll have to can most of this to keep it from spoiling in the heat.” She looked toward the river. “We need to build an ice house.”
“I’ll be happy to meet them, too,” Glory said, grinning from ear to ear. “I can’t imagine a man who can divert Mandy from pining for Pa.” Her boots thudded on the floor as she crossed to scoop a dipper of water from the bucket on the cupboard and drink deeply.
“Who says he has?” But it had been days since she’d thought of Pa. It had nothing to do with Trace. She’d simply been busy.
She gave Glory a wide view of her back. “Joanna, maybe you could make a pie or two?”
Joanna jerked about from tending the meat, stared at Mandy, then a slow smile started at her eyes and edged toward her mouth. “Sure. I’ll make pies. Any particular kind?”
Mandy squinted at her eldest sister. Why did she grin about nothing more than pies? Nothing special about wanting a pie for Sunday dinner. “I’ve always thought your dried apple pie was especially good. Probably the best you make.” She turned her full attention to the task of washing breakfast dishes, though she couldn’t help but overhear whispers between her sisters. Knew they talked about her, but she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of giving it any heed.
She washed the stack of dishes then grabbed a loaf of bread. “I’m going to take a lunch with me today.” She sliced the entire loaf, grabbed the leftover bit of grouse from last night, and made thick sandwiches, liberally salted and peppered.
Joanna kept busy slicing venison and setting the pieces to soak in a brine solution in readiness for a hot, steamy afternoon of canning. But she spared many a glance at Mandy.
Glory made no pretense of doing anything but watching. She leaned against the table and studied every movement. “You sure must plan on being hungry.”
“Cora and Trace have shared their lunch these past two days. I figure it’s time for me to contribute.” She reached for a syrup pail, removed the lid, and took out a handful of cookies and then another. “Don’t worry, Joanna. I’ll help you bake more.”
“Uh-huh.” Joanna sounded doubtful. “I’ve heard that before.”
“I have helped.”
“Never mind. You bring in meat and do other chores. I’m not complaining if my job is to do the cooking.”
Mandy wrapped the sandwiches in brown paper, did the same for the cookies, dug a sack out of a cupboard, and settled the whole lot carefully so she wouldn’t arrive with nothing but crumbs. “I’m going to work on my house.”
Glory straightened. “I think I’ll come along and have a look at your house. And your Trace.”
“No, Glory. Please don’t. Not yet.” Both sisters looked at her like she’d said something foreign.
Joanna washed and dried her hands and stood before Mandy. “What’s going on? We don’t keep secrets among ourselves.”
“No secret. I’ve told you everything.” Except for the foolish way her heart jumped around when Trace looked at her, but Joanna didn’t mean that. “You have to understand, Cora is only beginning to feel comfortable around me. I fear if I brought someone there she would retreat.” Trace had no reason to hide, and yet she wondered if he wouldn’t view a visitor as a betrayal on her part. “Wait until Sunday, and you’ll meet them.”
Joanna studied her a moment longer then finally nodded. “Until Sunday.”
Mandy recognized it as a warning. She silently appealed to Glory, who would not think twice about choosing a different direction than Joanna.
Glory considered her a full moment then nodded, albeit reluctantly.
Neither of her sisters liked secrets any better than she did. What would it take to persuade Trace to open up?
She bid them farewell and headed up the trail to her house. Only it wasn’t her twig shack she pictured, it was the fine log house Trace built.
Trace was missing when she arrived. Cora played with the kitten and glanced up. “Trace has gone for another log. He’s been working since dawn.”
The walls were higher than when Mandy left yesterday. He was determined to win. She left the lunch in a shady spot to keep cool and grabbed her ax. She would never let him beat her.
They passed each other coming and going, pausing only long enough to say hello, even though she wanted so much more. But at a loss to say what she thought she wanted, she merely nodded and continued on her way.
All morning she worked. Steadily the walls grew higher. At noon, she retrieved the lunch sack. “Time to eat. Come and get it.”
Trace washed, filled the dipper from the bucket, drank deeply, and dumped water over his head. Then he shook like a dog after a dip.
She watched shining droplets cling to the ends of his hair. One ran down his cheek. He dashed it away.
Their gazes caught and held. She swallowed back a thousand unnamed emotions clogging her throat, thickening her thoughts until they were immobile. In the back of her brain she ordered herself to stop staring openmouthed. Stop embarrassing herself. But she lacked the power to do so.
Cora dashed between them, chasing little Goliath and freeing Mandy from her foolishness. Mandy’s fingers felt thick as sausages as she handed out sandwiches, barely able to refrain from jerking back like an idiot when Trace’s fingers brushed hers.
What was wrong with her? Was she sick with something? But apart from these occasional lapses of good sense, she felt fine.
Trace settled back against a tree, and she relaxed inch by inch. After a bit, the quiet heat calmed her brain, and she recalled her plan. “You know that venison roast I mentioned?”
“You mean the one you’re famous for cooking?”
“Yup. Well it’s definitely on the menu for Sunday dinner. This is your chance to see if it’s as good as I say. Join us for the afternoon.”
Cora, who had been distracted by feeding the cat bits of her sandwich, jerked her attention to Trace. “Go.”
“I might.”
Mandy dared not look at him. Didn’t want to know if he appeared reluctant or pleased about the prospect. It was enough that he considered it. But despite her resolve, she slid a glance at him.
He watched her, his gaze steady, searching. She let him see a welcome and maybe more, though she couldn’t imagine what more he’d want from her. Or what more she could offer.
With an effort she pulled her gaze away and settled it on Cora. “You ought to come, too.”
“No. I couldn’t.” She touched her scarred cheek.
“Cora, only my sisters and Levi will be there, and they won’t care about your cheek.”
Cora ducked her head. “I couldn’t.”
“Maybe next time.” She returned her attention to Trace, wondering if he felt the same promise in the words as she did.
Not giving him a chance to change his mind about coming, she handed out cookies.
“You make these?” Trace asked.
“Joanna did, but I promised her I’d do some baking.” Right then and there she decided she would bake cookies at the first opportunity so she could hand some to Trace and say she�
��d made them.
❧
Trace studied his face in the tiny mirror. Shaved, his hair combed back, he looked his very best. But what did Mandy see? A man with a secret, certainly. But did she see the man he’d once been? A man with normal hopes and aspirations? He touched the edges of his damp hair. Maybe he should get Cora to trim the ends. He jerked his hands from his head. Why had he agreed to go to the stopping house for dinner? “I should have told her I changed my mind.”
Cora peered over his shoulder, checking his every move, pointing out a missed whisker, an untidy bit of hair. “Can’t see any reason why you would.”
He faced her. “I don’t like leaving you alone.”
“You aren’t. I have Goliath with me.”
“Some protection that is.”
“If I hear anyone approaching, I’ll slip away and hide.” She patted his arm as if he needed reassuring. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. Besides, don’t you think it’s time you met Mandy’s family?”
“Why?”
“Seems the next logical step.”
“To what?”
She chuckled softly. “Your growing fondness for her.”
“Fondness?” He sputtered. “How can you say that? All we do is fight. Or at least spar. So far we haven’t resorted to fisticuffs. Or gunfights.” Though their first meeting had involved him wrestling her to the ground. But then he didn’t know she was a woman, so he could be excused.
“You’re both dancing around what you feel. Not quite certain if it’s real. Or if you want it to be. I think she is as cautious as you about letting herself care about someone. But she is sweet, don’t you think?”
“No. She’s anything but. Try sharp, annoying—”
“Once the two of you decide to trust each other, that will all be nothing.”
“Cora, you’re sixteen years old. I hardly think that qualifies you as an expert on romance.”
“Almost seventeen, dear brother. And I don’t have to be an expert to see what’s right in front of me.” She patted his arm in a motherly gesture that made him want to gnash his teeth. “Now you go meet her family and make a good impression.”
