“You didn’t give me a choice. Is this how it’s going to be? You make all the decisions while you’re here?” She squirmed in his arms. “If you’d put me down …”
“I will.” He dropped her into the rocker.
“This isn’t going to work.”
“Yes it will. The rocker will give you the feel of needing to keep your balance when you shoot. You can’t stand up and shoot, because as your physician I won’t allow it.”
She sniffed and angled her nose skyward. “I don’t remember hiring you for your services.”
“Guess they come free with being on my farm.”
She scooted against the back of the chair and held out her hands. Her eyes were loaded bullets. “Hand me the gun.”
He picked up the rifle from the ground where he’d placed it when he came outside. She still looked put out with him. He hesitated, wondering if handing her a loaded gun was a good idea.
““Are you planning on teaching me today, or do you want me to stare at you like you’re one of those marble statues they have in Italy?”
He handed her the rifle. “The first thing you have to do is rest the stock against your shoulder.”
She looked at him, questioning him with her eyes.
“This part.” He patted the end of the rifle. “If you don’t rest it there, it’s going to kick back hard and knock you over, not to mention leave some ugly bruising on your shoulder.”
Something passed over her face, maybe understanding? He wasn’t quite sure. Perhaps she’d already found out the hard way what happens when you don’t hold a rifle the right way.
Heaven placed the stock against her right shoulder.
“Now look down the barrel with one eye.”
She did as he asked.
“Close the other one.” Earlier he’d set up a target. He stood behind the rocker and leaned over, just above her shoulder, and made sure the rifle was snug against her tiny frame. “See that circle I whitewashed on the log?”
She nodded, bumping her head into his chest and causing his breath to flutter.
He needed to concentrate on what that gun barrel was doing, not her pretty head that smelled sweet. He suffocated the attraction. “That’s where I want you to aim. Take a deep breath. When you feel you’re ready—and only then—pull the trigger.” He let go of the gun.
She sat there. A slight breeze lifted her hair and wafted a soft, clean smell his way.
Did she think the target was going to move? No wonder she couldn’t catch any dinner if it took her this long to make up her mind to shoot a log. A rabbit would have hopped away and had a bunch of baby bunnies by now. “Anytime you’re ready, just pull the trigger.”
As she pulled the trigger, she sneezed. The gun popped off her shoulder.
The rocker flew back, knocking Travis right below his waist. His breath wheezed out, and his eyes burned and watered. He grabbed the back of the chair to keep it from spilling over on its back and him from collapsing onto the ground.
“I think we’re done for the day.” He squeezed the words out of his lungs. He took the rifle from her. “I’ll be heading to the barn to spend time with my horse.” And recover. It would be awhile before he’d work on teaching her to shoot again. So far, all that woman managed to do with a rifle was find some way to harm him.
Heaven didn’t understand why Dr. Logan had taken off to the barn in such an abrupt manner. He had been so kind before she fired the Spencer. Perhaps the sound brought up memories of her shooting him? He appeared to be limping, and he held his midsection. Maybe he was going to be sick from Angel’s shell-filled eggs? Had the hit from the rocker caused him a stomach disturbance? Still, it seemed out of character for him to roughly grab the rifle out of her hands and make off for the barn, leaving her to get back to the house on her own. She wanted to practice more than once.
“Why do you think he quit teaching you so fast?” Angel helped her sister up the stairs. “I would have thought he would have made you shoot a few more times, especially since you didn’t hit the target.”
At least her sister had stuck around. Funny how she found herself dependent on her sister after all the times Angel had counted on her for help. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
“Maybe he thinks I’m hopeless.” It was useless. She’d been trying for months to hit something, and so far Dr. Logan was the only living or dead thing she’d successfully struck with a bullet. And shooting people wasn’t a useful skill, as she didn’t intend to take up a life of robbing and killing folks.
“I don’t think you are.” Angel opened the door and helped Heaven to a kitchen chair. “You take care of me, and you never give up. Remember how you kept trying until you figured out how to make cheese from Mrs. Jackson’s milk?”
She plunked down onto the chair. “I miss that cheese. Dr. Logan says it won’t be long though, before the kid is born and we’ll have goat’s milk again.”
Angel looped the handle of her sister’s sewing basket across her arm and brought it to the kitchen table. “How long do you think we can stay here if you don’t marry him?”
“We’re staying on this farm forever. I don’t know how yet. I’m wondering if we can buy the farm from him. If we can make cheese and sell it in town …”
“Do you think we could make enough money?” Angel’s voice rang of hope.
“I don’t know. I’ve heard about making soap, too. Maybe we could learn how to do that.” She’d need some kind of fancy mold to form it. They could just cut bars, but she knew from living in Nashville the fancy-shaped stuff sold for more.
“We could make it smell pretty with some lavender. We still have a jar we dried this summer.” Angel parked her elbow on the table and rubbed the dimple in her cheek with her finger. “I wish I could still see to draw. I could make the labels.”
“You still could. If we used a potato for a stamp with a simple design etched into it and some dye, you could make the labels.”
“And you could write our names on them. Heaven and Angel Fanciful Soaps.” Angel sighed. “Let’s try, Heaven. I don’t want to leave our home.”
Travis walked slowly around the barn between the stalls until the pain in his groin subsided. That woman was disaster disguised in a pretty package—at least when it came to his body.
He stopped at the pregnant goat’s stall and leaned over the half wall. The long-eared white face peered at him from the corner. “How are you feeling, Mrs. Jackson?”
She ambled over and nipped at the cuff of his coat. “I need that sleeve.” He pulled his hand out of her reach. “Looks like you’re doing fine.”
He’d climbed up into the hayloft earlier and tossed down several bales of hay. Separating it with a pitch fork, he’d then strewn it about her pen to help keep her warm. The expecting goat shouldn’t be in this condition this late in the year, but it happened sometimes. Heaven was as surprised and excited as Angel had been when he told her Mrs. Jackson was going to have a kid sometime soon. They knew Mrs. Jackson kept gaining weight and accused her of stealing food from the horse and cow. They’d even tried to catch her taking it but weren’t successful.
It was conversations like these that made him realize Caleb knew his womenfolk needed a man, and that’s why he’d given the farm to Travis. He even saw why Caleb wanted him to have Heaven. Though the man’s method was unorthodox, his heart had been in the right place. Heaven’s appeal, her kindness and sweet nature along with her resistance to marrying him only made him want her more.
It might be fun to court her—if she weren’t so dangerous. “Dr. Logan!” Angel’s holler came from the cabin porch followed by the sound of a bell.
At Angel’s call, his heart skipped a beat then calmed as he realized it was time for supper. He went to the barn door to answer her just as she retreated back inside. He wondered if she’d shout again if he didn’t come in right away the way his mother did. He didn’t think he’d chance it. He was hungry.
Inside he found two women with fl
ushed faces waiting for him. “What’s the excitement about?”
“Heaven came up with a plan so we can buy the farm from you.” Angel squealed.
“Sit down. Supper is ready,” Heaven said. Travis slid into what he was beginning to think of as his chair. Angel scooted her chair out and sat. “So what is the plan, Heaven?”
“Soap. We’re going to get a herd of goats and make fancy soap and sell it at the general store.” The spoon she held in her hand kept time with her words. “We need more goats though. I’m not sure how much milk it will take. Angel and I will have to experiment.”
“Soap? Fancy goat soap? You think that’s going to support you?” Travis knew he’d said the wrong thing as the words were leaving his lips. Too late to call them back and no way to make it appear he hadn’t meant it.
The spoon whacked against the inside of the pot as Heaven dished their dinner onto plates.
“Angel and I have a good plan, and while we may not make a lot of money, you should at least consider our offer.” Thwack. Potato bits sprayed in the air as she emptied the spoon onto a dish. She turned and slapped a plate full of green beans and potatoes on the table in front of him.
How could he fix this? Fancy soaps didn’t seem like a moneymaker to him. His mother’s words echoed back to him from a time before the war. Her advice on women: “Show some interest in what they are saying.” He’d give that a try. “What are you going to name your company?”
Angel slipped out of her chair and made her way to the hutch. “We made some labels. Heaven’s real smart, and she figured out a way to use potatoes to stencil them. We were going to write Heaven and Angel Fancy Soaps, but that was too hard to etch. She let me stamp them.”
She handed him the label and sat back in her chair. “What do you think? Do you like them? Are they pretty?”
“HA?”
“H for Heaven and A for Angel.” Angel’s foot tapped against the chair rung. “Are they pretty?”
He couldn’t help it. Having sisters had made it impossible to ignore something so easy to make fun of. “HA. HA. HA. Could I have some of that fancy HA HA soap?” He laughed.
Heaven gasped and whirled around from the stove with Angel’s plate of food. “That’s mean.”
“No, listen. HA—it sounds like a laugh. Get it?”
Angel giggled. “It does, Heaven. Ha-ha-ha.”
Heaven slammed Angel’s dinner in front of her and then sat across the table from Travis. She narrowed her eyes, and sparks of fire seemed aimed, ready to fire at him. “We are making an effort, and it isn’t nice to—to laugh.”
She giggled and then broke into a hearty laugh, grabbing her stomach, which surprised him. She was so petite, he’d have thought she’d have a dainty behind-the-hand giggle. At that moment, he knew he had fallen into the depths of Heaven. And just like that, he fell in love with her.
Chapter 11
This morning Dr. Logan had wrapped her ankle tight again after making her soak it. She hated that bucket of cold water first thing in the morning. But once he wrapped the strips around her ankle, it felt better.
She leaned on the branch he had found in the woods to help her take the weight off her hurt ankle. She didn’t know what she would have done if he hadn’t stuck around to help her and Angel. Getting up and down the front steps took a long time. And in this cold weather, she was outside longer than she wanted to be. Crossing the yard to the chicken coop and barn seemed much farther than it had a few days ago.
Angel had taken to Dr. Logan, following him everywhere and offering such devotion to the man it made Heaven jealous.
She had taken care of her sister for a long time, and Angel had never seemed to admire Heaven the same way.
Angel popped through the door. Heaven noticed she was alone again. “Did Dr. Logan put up a rope for you?”
“No. I showed him I could count my steps and make it to the chicken coop just fine. He said I didn’t need a rope, but you might since you had perfectly good eyes and stepped in that hole. Dr. Logan said he was going to teach me how to do a lot of things. He’s a nice man, Heaven. I think we ought to keep him.”
“He is not an animal, Angel. You don’t keep humans. You should have learned that from that stupid war.”
“Daddy kept Auntie and Buck.” She scurried over to the fireplace and held her hands out to warm them.
“He did not keep them. They worked for us, and Daddy paid them.” Didn’t he? “When he couldn’t pay them anymore, they left, remember?” Her stick clunked against the wooden floor as she walked over to her sister.
“Is that why they didn’t come here with us?” Angel’s bottom lip trembled. “I loved them.”
“I did, too, and I would love to have Auntie here right now. I miss her cooking so much.”
The door opened, and Dr. Logan came through with an armful of wood and the blustery wind.
“And if Buck were here, we would have lots of wood and fresh meat, don’t you think?”
“Fresh meat? I heard that. If it’s all right with you two, I might go hunting for some.” He set the logs on the side of the hearth. “Think you women could manage to cook a rabbit or two?”
Heaven sputtered. “We could do that.”
“What about a deer?” Travis asked as he unbuttoned his coat. He hung it on the branch as if he had every right to do so.
“I’ve never cooked anything that big.” Heaven watched him take a seat in her rocking chair. His dark hair was tousled from the wind, and his cheeks held a red tinge. He was healing well. “I’d like to try. Do you know how?”
“I think I could manage. Might have to throw together a smokehouse pretty quick if I get a deer.”
Heaven hoped he would find a deer. That would keep her and Angel in food for a while. Visions of venison stew for Christmas dinner danced in her mind—with green beans, of course.
“… can get that stove working in the barn so it won’t be so chilly.”
She shook her head.
“You want me to take you to the Reynolds’s so I can sleep inside?”
“No, we’re not leaving.” She should have been listening. What had he said before mentioning sleeping in the barn? “How long can you stay?”
“Forever. It’s my farm.”
“Then Angel and I should sleep in the barn and not our home?” She slapped her hand over her lips, too late to capture the words she’d spat out of her mouth.
Angel whirled around and faced her sister. “I don’t want to sleep in the barn.”
Dr. Logan rose from his chair and towered over Heaven. “That’s not what I said. Don’t untie my words and restring them so they say something else.”
“So you aren’t throwing us out of our home?” She wanted him to say it, needed him to reassure her and calm her worry.
“Not today.” He strode past her and grabbed his coat. He turned back and cocked his head.
She waited for him to say when. Instead, he shook his head and left the cabin, leaving her stomach scrambling and her mind trying to piece together the meaning of his actions.
The next morning, the kitchen had been straightened and schoolbooks set on the table. Heaven’s shoulder still ached from the unpleasant incident with the rifle. She couldn’t believe she’d sneezed, once again causing herself pain. She wouldn’t let that Spencer win though. After she did school lessons with Angel and implemented a few of her plans for their home, she would go back out there and shoot that log until it grew hands and surrendered.
“I don’t know why I have to learn multiplication tables,” Angel whined as she slumped in the chair.
“It’s part of growing up. There may not be a school here, but you are going to learn whatever I can teach you. Besides, math is important, especially if we’re going to be making money. Someone needs to know how to keep track of how much we have.”
“I can’t see. How am I supposed to do that?” Angel folded her arms in front of her on the table and laid her head on them.
“Sorry
, no sympathy from me. You’ve been following Dr. Logan around, learning all kinds of things. You don’t even need me to get in and out of the house now that he’s fashioned that stick for you.”
“The stick keeps me from walking into things, but I don’t see how I can read numbers on paper with it.”
“Dr. Logan was telling me about a way you can learn by feeling bumps on paper. I don’t know how to make those, and neither does he, but someday you’ll learn. And when you have to learn that, you won’t have to learn your multiplication tables, because you’ll already know them.”
“So I can concentrate on learning what they look like on the bumpy paper?” Angel lifted her head. “Where am I going to learn how to do that?”
“Dr. Logan said there are schools that can teach you to read Braille—that’s what it’s called.” This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have. She knew what Angel’s next question would be.
“But they aren’t around here, are they? Are you sending me away?”
She was right; she knew her sister. “No, not right now. I don’t even know where there is a school. Or if they take children your age. But if we have to leave here, I’m going to find one, and that’s where we’ll move to.”
“Maybe we should just go now and forget fighting for the farm.” Angel chewed on her thumbnail.
Heaven stilled. Leave the farm? She hadn’t considered doing what was best for her sister at all. But once she located a school, what would she do for money? And how would they survive? They had nothing, except what Pa had left on an account at the store. That wasn’t enough for transportation anywhere. Where would they live?
“The farm is our home—for now.”
“Maybe if you marry Dr. Logan like Pa wanted, he would send me to school.”
Her heart couldn’t break into more pieces, could it? How did this happen that she would have to give up so much—from her first love to her parents? But how could she refuse her sister’s plea? Please, God, help me. I don’t know what to do. I know people marry for convenience, but I so wanted to be loved.
Bride's Dilemma in Friendship, Tennessee Page 11
