"This one," he said, and pointed to the symbol tattooed on his neck. "My name."
"That will…mean something to your family?"
"Aye. My rune will tell them I'm nearby."
"Okay then," I told him as I stood and dusted off my jeans, ready to get back to work.
Chapter Four
We spent the rest of the week working on the fence line.
Every morning we went into the dining room after breakfast and tried to "heal" Courage's face. But I couldn't see that it was doing any good. And I never got used to being close to him. I still felt nervous when he trapped me against the dining room table.
Occasionally, Kellen wandered out to the fields to give us a hand. But he never showed up before two and he never stayed long. Most of his so-called-help consisted of telling us how we could have done something much more easily. Typical Kellen-type stuff which we ignored for the most part. But on Wednesday, he pulled a small pocketknife from his jeans and tossed it at Courage.
Courage frowned at the folded tool in his hand. "What's this for?" he asked.
"I thought you could use a smaller blade," he said, and eyed the long piece of steel hanging at Courage's side. "Because that other knife of yours is just overkill."
"It's a knife?" Courage asked uncertainly.
"Yeah, it's a knife," Kellen laughed, privately rolling his eyes at me then showing the hired hand how to pull out the blade.
So, Courage must have seen a pocketknife before, right? But he acted like it was the cleverest thing he'd ever laid eyes on. He was like a kid on Christmas who'd just opened the best present in the world. I couldn't help but laugh at his reaction. And Kellen laughed too…then took off to meet up with the band.
Courage slipped the small folding blade in his bib pocket. "What's his band like?" he asked as Kellen pulled away in the truck.
"They're okay," I exaggerated, because they're really not good enough to be considered okay. "They do mostly covers. Too pop for me."
"What do they call themselves?"
"Other regions," I answered. "They were going to go with Nether Regions but I talked them out of it."
Courage smiled. "Probably a good idea."
"Way good," I snickered.
And by the end of the week, we'd finished replacing the posts on the fence line, leaving only the wiring to do. In that time, I'd learned a little more about Courage and his family, all of whom had names just as unusual as his. I taught him to drive the tractor, showed him how to operate the swather, and gave him a few tips in the kitchen. I started with washing dishes and worked my way up from there. But no matter how menial the task, Courage was always happy to pitch in and help.
We cut his rune into the grass on Saturday, doing most of the work with the swather and using a hand scythe to finish out the pointy bits. When we were done, we stood on the roof of the hay cutter to check it out. By this time, we were getting along pretty good, although I wasn't sure he'd completely forgiven me for refusing to kiss him. And I wasn't one hundred percent sure he wasn't gonna bring doom raining down on our ranch. But the longer it didn't happen, the less I worried about it.
Okay, so that's not a particularly valid reaction but a normal one, I think.
"I wish I could see our work from the air," I said.
"Maybe you will someday," he murmured.
We were standing so close on the small roof of the swather that I had to tilt my head back to look up at him. "I don't know how," I argued. "It's not like I have any friends who own a small plane."
"Well, maybe we can make a flight over the field after my family catches up to me," he said. "If they don't mind."
On Sunday, I was destined for church as usual. So I got up, pulled on a dress and headed downstairs to start breakfast. But when I reached the kitchen, breakfast was almost ready; Courage had gotten there first.
He did a double take when he saw me in the dress. "You look nice," he said, blinking a few times.
"Thank you," I murmured, my cheeks turning warm.
He glanced down at his faded overalls, and a ridge formed between his eyebrows. "You should have told me breakfast was formal this morning."
"This isn't exactly formal," I told him, sweeping my hands down over the skirt of the white dress patterned with yellow daisies.
"Are…we going to the fields in that dress?" he asked as he dished out golden scrambled eggs and crisp bacon.
"It's Sunday," I informed him. "I'm going to church this morning."
Again, he looked down at his overalls. "Will they let me in wearing these clothes?"
That was unexpected. I hadn't thought for one moment he'd want to go to church with me. "You don't have to go," I said quickly.
He gave me a narrow look. "Are you sure?"
"I'm positive," I told him, pouring out two glasses of orange juice and carrying them to the table. "Why don't you take the day off and relax? Sit in the sun or something."
His eyes narrowed into slits, targeting me like a laser beam. "Shouldn't you be trying to save me?" he demanded.
I stared at him, thinking what-kind-of-question-is-that? In my limited experience, most people who aren't Christians don't go begging you to bring it to them. "Maybe," I finally said.
"Good," he shot back. "Because if you're going to church, I want to go with you."
"Why?"
"I like to be with you," he said, pointing a finger in my direction. "But I think we've covered that before, haven't we?"
"I guess so," I muttered.
"You're not…ashamed of me, are you?"
I crossed my arms and scowled at him, angry that he'd played that particular card. The you're-not-ashamed-of-me-because-of-my-mangled-face card. That was playing dirty and he probably knew it.
"No, I'm not ashamed of you," I answered, and decided to mess with him because you shouldn't be able to say something like that and get away with it. "But be sure to keep your head down and don't tell anybody you're with me."
A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. "I probably deserved that," he said.
"Yes, you did," I returned. "Have you ever been to church before?"
"It's been a long time," he answered. "I expect things have changed quite a bit since I was last there."
So, I took him to church. Normally, I would have hitched a ride with one of the neighbors. But since Courage insisted on tagging along, that complicated things. I didn't want Mr. Winslow asking him a whole bunch of questions or remembering that the police in Limon were looking for some young guys like him. That could cause problems for our new hand.
I suppose I could have started up the truck and done the driving myself. I could have probably gotten away with it just fine since there aren't exactly a million cops in my part of the country. There probably aren't even a dozen. I was pretty sure I could get to church and back without being stopped by a policeman. But if I did get caught, it would ruin Mom and Dad's vacation. So, I played it safe. I rousted Kellen outta bed and made him give us a lift.
There was a little argument on the way out the door…about Courage's knife. He wanted to take it with him.
"You can't take that meat cleaver into a church," I exclaimed. "It's a house of peace. Besides it looks ridiculous with the rest of your outfit."
He looked down at the clothes Kellen had loaned him, a pair of black chinos, white shirt and dark gray tie. He lifted his head and peered at me from beneath the bandage that wrapped his face. "Could you…carry it in your purse for me?"
"I don't have a purse that big," I exclaimed.
"But…"
"But nothing," I insisted, and pointed at the long blade. "Why do you think you need it anyhow? We're not going to be carving up whales or field-dressing an elephant. And last I looked, there wasn't an invasion of the walking dead."
His mouth pulled down. He was actually sulking! It should have looked ridiculous on him but it was kinda cute. "I want it with me," he muttered. "For protection."
"You'll be in church!" I argued, gett
ing loud. "You'll have God's protection!"
He gave me an imploring look but I put my foot down. "That knife is not goin' with us," I stated in a no-nonsense tone.
The pleading look on his face turned into a dark scowl. "You're a difficult lass," he growled. But he stalked back to the porch and left his knife inside the door before he returned to the yard. And he got into the backseat of Kellen's car without his knife.
I opened the front passenger door but a bunch of Kellen's drum stuff was on the seat so I climbed into the back with Courage. He was still scowling when we started out, and I thought he was going to be mad at me all the way to church. But when we got on the road and headed toward Limon, his body language changed. The closer we got to town, the uneasier he seemed to get. He kept peering at the sky from the side window like he was expecting a tornado or a police helicopter or something equally menacing.
"What's wrong?" I asked him.
"Nothing," he muttered and appeared to give himself a shake. "I just…didn't know we were going in this direction."
It made me think about those guys the police in Limon were looking for…and if Courage was maybe one of the guys they wanted. "Sorry," I told him. "But that's where our church is."
"What do you mean, 'our'," Kellen grunted from the front seat. "That's where 'your' church is."
I sent him a black look that should have burned a hole through the headrest on his seat. Then I returned my attention to Courage. "Do you want Kellen to turn around and take you back to the ranch?"
For a few seconds, he actually seemed to consider the idea…while I was wondering why I would even suggest it. Was I trying to protect him? Why would I do that? If the police were looking for him, wouldn't it be best if they found him? If he was wanted by the FBI, didn't I need to know?
"Nay," he finally answered, and dragged his eyes from the clouds outside the window. But he still seemed nervous, like he was expecting doomsday to arrive at any moment. And when Kellen dropped us off in front of the church, Courage was obviously on his guard as he got out of the car. He acted like he was some kind of point man on a scouting mission, glancing right and left and behind him before he took a step forward.
"Are you okay?" I asked him as he strode around the car and joined me.
"Fine," he answered and took a last look behind him. "Let's get inside."
"I'll be back in an hour," Kellen promised.
"Where will you be?" I asked him.
"Just hanging out," he answered.
"Well, don't forget about us," I warned him.
He grinned back. "Would I do that?"
"You did last time," I pointed out in a growl.
"Sorry," he apologized cheerfully. "But something came up."
"Something usually does," I muttered as he drove off.
But apparently, I had taken too long to say goodbye. At least, it was too long in Courage's opinion. He clearly wanted to be inside the church. The next thing I felt was his hand on lower back, guiding me gently but firmly toward the door. I tried to pick up the pace and get ahead of him but that was one determined hand he had at the end of his arm. It stuck to me like it had found a home and it wasn't letting go any time this side of the rapture.
I would have had to run to outdistance that hand. And I couldn't exactly sprint through the church doors because that would cause a scene. And who wants to cause a scene at church? Besides, his hand felt surprisingly nice parked low on my spine—like warmth and strength and something safe to nestle against. I know the touch of a guiding hand shouldn't be that big a deal. But in the short time that Courage's palm rested against my back, I felt like I belonged to someone. Like I belonged to Courage. And I liked it.
And that was weird. I never thought I'd want to feel that way about a guy. Like I belonged to him. Even if I am a country girl, I reckon I'm as modern and independent as anyone else.
I wondered what Jesse would think about my reaction to such a simple and nothing-more-than-polite gesture. I hadn't told her about the new hand yet and I wondered what she'd say if I told her I'd discovered I had a girly side I hadn't yet come to grips with. She'd probably laugh her head off.
She was totally independent. She was the sort of girl who wasn't gonna let her father walk her down the aisle on her wedding day. Heck, she was the sort of girl who wouldn't get married in the first place! But if she did, she wouldn't get married in a church. She'd never even set foot in one. But she didn't think religion was ridiculous, like Kellen. Kellen said religion was a crutch. Jesse said Kellen was an idiot. Cute, but still an idiot. "Besides," she would say. "Who's not limping?"
Then I realized how long it had been since I'd talked to Jess. I'd been so busy recently. I decided to call her when I got home later in the day. We needed to talk about Zombies anyhow.
Together, Courage and I walked through the wide oak doors of the church. And not too unexpectedly, we got a lot of curious looks. I could tell that most of the girls were pretty impressed with the part of his face they could see. But we didn't have to answer any questions because Kellen had managed to get us there five minutes late and the sermon had started. So, we slipped into a pew at the back of the church. Charlene slid over to make room for us.
"Where did you find him?" Charlie whispered when we stood up to sing.
"One of Kellen's friends," I answered because I didn't have time for a longer, more honest explanation. And it wasn't exactly a lie since Kellen had found him and hired him.
"He's pretty cute," she murmured.
I slanted a look at Courage. Charlie was right. He looked like an angel in his white shirt and gray tie, the right side of his face covered. To be honest, he didn't look the least bit dark or dangerous dressed for church and standing beside me, holding the hymnal so I could follow the words.
I had to give myself a mental shake and remind myself that angels don't get horrible burns they don't want to talk about. Angels aren't built like they spent most of their lives killing things. And angels don't show up at your ranch in the middle of the Colorado plains with no money and no belongings other than the clothes on their backs.
And when I was done having that little talk with myself, I had things back in perspective and a nice sturdy wall built between myself and Courage again. I breathed a little sigh of relief because that was a good thing, right? Courage was a hard worker and a great hand but he'd be gone in a few weeks and there was no sense getting used to him.
Charlie kept darting looks at him when she thought he wasn't watching. She was really popular at school and could probably go out with any guy she wanted. But she was too into cheerleading to bother with a boyfriend. Still, the glances she was giving Courage suggested she'd give up her poms for him. I wondered what she'd think of him if she could see the rest of his face. I wondered if she'd still be so interested.
At the end of the sermon, Courage tagged along to my Sunday School class. My five-year-olds were coloring a picture of Jesus, surrounded by children, sitting beneath a tree filled with birds. Of course, the kids were curious about Courage's face. The boys in particular had a lot of questions. They wanted to know what had happened to him. Had he fallen into a vat of chemicals like the Joker? Was his skin eaten away like the Walking Dead? Had he lost his eye? They wouldn't leave it alone.
Cabel's voice is surprisingly loud for a five-year-old. I don't know how such a little kid can have such a big voice. When he talks, it sounds like he swallowed a megaphone. "Is his nose gonna fall off?" he boomed into the rafters of the auxiliary room.
I choked back a burst of laughter. "Why would you think that?"
"Because he's all wrapped up like those lepers in the Bible."
"Rage isn't a leper," I told him. "His face was burned…in an accident. That's why he wears that bandage over his face."
Cabel's brown eyes slanted toward Courage in a very doubtful look.
"His nose won't fall off," I promised and turned a wry smile in Courage's direction.
But my hired hand from England wasn't e
ven paying attention. He was perched on one of the tiny wooden chairs with his chin just about resting on his knees while he colored in his sky with a black crayon. He'd added a moon peeking out from behind a fluffy cloud outlined in silver. It gave the picture a very dark and ominous mood. Not exactly the original intent of the assignment.
"Maybe we should pray for him," Ivy suggested in a shy voice. "So he'll get better."
"Maybe we should," I agreed, patting the little girl's blond head. And we all bowed our heads and said a little prayer for Courage.
"And please, God, don't let his nose fall off," Cabel added at the end.
"Amen," Courage said solemnly, finally dragging his attention from his work, which looked a little like Nightmare-Before-Christmas meets It's-A-Wonderful-Life. But at the end of the class, all of the children voted Courage's picture to be their favorite.
He looked ridiculously pleased.
"It only needs a dinosaur," Cabel piped up, his words echoing to the far side of the big room. "Or a dragon. Then it would be perfect."
"Next week I'll work in a dragon," Courage promised the little boy.
So, it looked like Courage was going to be a permanent addition to my Sunday School class. At least until my folks got back from Europe. "How'd you like church?" I asked on the way home. Kellen had the radio turned up so I had to lean close to Courage to be heard.
"I liked Sunday School better."
"Most children do," I pointed out. "So, church was…just okay? Less than okay?"
"I liked the singing," he said.
"Is that all?" I asked with a laugh.
"There seemed to be a lot of talking," he added. "By that man who was leading the…"
"Sermon," I filled in for him.
"If a person wanted to get some praying done, it seems like he'd hardly get a chance."
"I guess you have a point," I snickered. "Did you want to get some praying in?"
He shook his head, and his gaze drifted down to my legs. "All of my prayers were answered this morning when you came down the stairs in that dress."
Courage Page 5
