by Linda Ford
“I promise.”
His eyes said he would guard her and make sure she didn’t stumble. And then he blinked and the thought was gone.
She wondered if she’d only imagined it. How foolish she was getting, and only a while after assuring her parents she would be wise. But somehow she struggled to keep her wits about her when he looked at her with his dark eyes full of feeling.
She jerked her attention to the task before them. “Let’s get this done. Tomorrow is Saturday and we go to town.” She picked up a hammer and a handful of spikes and began to nail a plank into place. “We take a supply of cheese, butter and eggs, and trade them at the store for things we need.” She pounded on the nail. “Ma will likely take some garden produce, too. She sells out of the back of the wagon. We do all right, you know?” She rattled on without giving him a chance to answer. “Sometimes the ladies bring their complaints and ask for one of her medicines.” Pound, pound, pound. The noise made further conversation impossible.
Wyatt set another board in place and knelt beside her to hammer in nails.
She sat back and watched how easily they went in for him.
Noticing she had stopped work, he turned to her, two spikes protruding from his mouth. He took them out so he could talk. “Something wrong?”
“Only that it takes me three times as long to drive a nail home.”
He grinned and flexed his arm. “So you’re willing to admit I’m better than you?”
She sighed dramatically. “At pounding in nails, I have to concede you’re better.”
His eyes narrowed. “That’s all?”
She pretended to consider the question seriously, then shook her head. “Can’t think of anything else. Of course, I’m willing to admit it might be because I know so little about you.”
His expression tightened. His eyes grew cold. “There’s nothing to know.”
“Really? I can think of a lot of things.” Would he tell her if she asked some of the many questions she had? Seeing the tension in his tight jaw, she guessed he wouldn’t. She examined the nail in her hand as if it might supply answers. She could drop the subject entirely or she could probe just a little. Perhaps make him realize it wasn’t dangerous to answer questions.
“Where did you grow up?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Mostly in Kansas.”
“Was your father a farmer?”
“Of sorts. But mostly he raised horses.”
“So that’s why you want to ranch and raise horses?”
He nodded his head. “All that’s left of his breeding stock is the few head I have. It’s good stock, and I hope to improve it.” He pounded in spike after spike, making further questions impossible.
“Help me set this plank,” he called to Lonnie.
The boy was perched on the last board, his feet dangling as something beyond the barn held his attention. He smiled slightly and appeared relaxed.
Cora followed the direction of his look. He must be watching the pigs.
Lonnie jumped up, a guilty look on his face. “I’ll help.” He scurried to adjust the board and hammered nails with much more vigor than accuracy.
“Slow down,” Wyatt said, without a hint of rancor in his voice.
Lonnie stopped and sucked in air. “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. Take your time. We’re not in any sort of race.”
Lonnie nodded and his movements grew deliberate.
Cora ducked her head to hide her reaction. The poor boy was so leery of everyone, including Wyatt. That seemed a little strange, but then she didn’t know what it would feel like to duck every time Pa lifted his hand, so maybe the reaction was normal.
An hour later, Wyatt sent Lonnie to get a bucket of water.
Cora rolled her shoulders.
Wyatt watched her. “Are you sore?”
Her instinct was to deny it. Normally she would. She’d pretend she didn’t hurt and would work without complaining, but something in his voice and in his look made her answer honestly. “My arms aren’t used to this kind of work.”
“Then why not let us do it?”
She shook her head without considering it. “I wouldn’t feel right about that.”
“Why?”
She couldn’t tell him it was because she liked working with him, liked watching the way he moved, the way he instructed Lonnie, the sureness of his every action. Her cheeks grew warm at her wayward thoughts. “I kind of like helping,” she finally murmured.
He got a silly grin on his face and she knew her answer had pleased him.
Maybe he even shared the same pleasure in working with her.
The idea brought an answering smile to her lips.
* * *
Wyatt drank the water Lonnie brought and returned to the job of making a floor. He couldn’t stop smiling. Cora liked working with him. And he liked working with her. He would not think any deeper than that.
They worked until dinnertime. He hurried down the ladder to hold it firm as she made her way to the ground. His heart stalled every time she stepped on a rung. If she caught her foot in her skirts or leaned too far to one side...
He and Lonnie were about to head to their camp when she stopped them.
“Ma’s expecting you to join us.”
Wyatt looked at Lonnie. Did he detect in his brother’s eyes the same mixture of eagerness and reluctance he felt? Then he calmed his thoughts. This was the opportunity he sought to teach them both more about healthy family life.
“Thank you.” The three of them fell in step as they crossed the yard.
The meal was more hurried than supper the previous night. Mr. Bell did not read from the Bible, but they held hands around the table as they prayed. And, most important, Lonnie did not seem to mind. Neither, Wyatt confessed to himself, did he as he held Cora’s.
They enjoyed a generous feed of huge slices of golden bread and thick pieces of cheese. Raw carrots and freshly picked peas crunched in contrast.
Lonnie sighed his pleasure as he finished. “Good food. Thanks, Mrs. Bell.”
Mrs. Bell patted Lonnie’s hand. “Glad you enjoyed it.”
Lonnie snorted. “You should see what Wyatt feeds us.”
Wyatt groaned. Was the boy going to point out his deficiencies as a cook at every chance he got? “I never had a chance to practice cooking.”
At the reminder of one reason why Wyatt had had no such chance, Lonnie ducked his head.
Wyatt tried to think of a way to make it clear he didn’t mean just the past year. “Ma didn’t like anyone messing about in her kitchen.” He squeezed Lonnie’s shoulder, hoping to signal he didn’t mean to remind him of jail.
The meal ended and the younger ones returned to their chores.
“Ma and Pa will have a nap,” Cora said. “You’re welcome to do so, too, if you want.”
Lonnie choked back a snort.
Wyatt ignored his brother’s reaction. “I haven’t had an afternoon nap since I was three.”
“Just offering,” she said. “No shame in taking a break from your labors. Pa says it makes him more vigorous for the rest of the day.”
“Uh-huh,” Wyatt said.
“Sure you don’t need a nap?” Lonnie jeered.
“I’m absolutely certain. Now, be sure you don’t fall asleep and tumble off the roof,” Wyatt said as they returned to the job.
Lonnie and Cora both laughed.
Wyatt grinned as he bent to hammer in nails. He’d made his little brother laugh. Lonnie had allowed physical contact.
His pleasure lasted throughout the early part of the afternoon. But as the sun beat down mercilessly on them, and sweat dribbled from his face, he tried to think of a way to suggest they forget about the project for a few hours. He’d come
right out and give his opinion of working in the hottest part of the day, except he didn’t want to look like a slacker. Now, if she’d suggest it...
“Push the plank into place,” he told Lonnie as Cora sat back, wiping her face on a handkerchief.
Lonnie moved as though his limbs had turned to lead.
Wyatt understood how he felt, but the boy didn’t complain. No doubt because he feared retaliation from Wyatt.
“That’s good.” Wyatt sat down beside Cora and Lonnie flopped to the finished portion of the floor. On the ground, in the shade of the house, Mrs. Bell, Lilly and Rose sat shelling peas. He’d do most anything to get out of the blazing heat, but not unless Cora suggested it.
She didn’t. They continued throughout the hot afternoon, though their movements grew slower and more sluggish as the hours passed. Lonnie kept them supplied with water. A bucket disappeared quickly between three people drinking copious amounts and he and Lonnie pouring it over their heads.
Cora splashed it on her face.
“Sure is hot.” Lonnie fanned himself with his hat.
“Finally,” Cora said with feeling. “I thought no one would ever complain, and I wasn’t about to be the first.”
“Well, I’m hot.” Lonnie sounded defensive.
“So am I,” Cora said. “Aren’t you?” she asked Wyatt.
“I am baked, fried and toasted.”
“But are you hot?” Her voice was bland but her eyes twinkled.
He laughed. “I didn’t want anyone to think I couldn’t handle it.”
“Well, I’ve had enough. Let’s get off this fry pan.”
Lonnie was down the ladder before she finished her sentence.
She scrambled to her feet but jerked to a halt and tumbled forward.
Wyatt grabbed her, his heart thudding in his ears. He held tight as he struggled to his feet on legs that had turned to butter. He pulled her back to the floor beside him. “The heat is making you dizzy.”
Her eyes had widened to the size of dinner plates and she held on to him with both hands.
She sat safely on the loft floor, but he couldn’t release her any more than he could tear himself from her gaze. It demanded a dozen things from him—his protection, which he’d freely given, but also the truth about his past, his time in prison, his hopes and fears and failures—things he could not allow her to know. He tried to close the emotional door that had been flung wide-open when he’d thought she was about to fall to the ground. A door that concealed the secrets he must guard the rest of his life. But the door jammed and he could not close it.
She swallowed so hard he figured it must hurt. “I wasn’t dizzy.”
“You almost fell.”
She withdrew her hands slowly. Their eyes held each other’s. “My skirt is caught.”
“Your skirt?” He echoed her words without understanding her meaning.
She blinked and shifted her gaze to her feet. “Yes. Between the boards.”
He forced his brain to start functioning. Indeed, the hem of her skirt was caught, jammed between two boards he and Lonnie had pushed into place.
At the realization of how one bit of carelessness could have been the cause of a disaster, he sucked in air in a futile attempt to calm his pounding head.
“Wyatt?”
The concern in her voice made him concentrate. “I’ll get it. Don’t move.” He pried the board away enough to pull the fabric free. But he made no move to climb down from the loft. If Cora’s limbs were as shaky as his, they wouldn’t be safe on the ladder.
“Thank you for catching me.” She stared at the hem of her skirt.
“You gave me quite a scare.” Would she notice the tremble in his voice that he couldn’t hide?
“Me, too.”
To keep from touching her, Wyatt pressed his hands to the new boards. If only he had the freedom to pull her close and comfort her. But he didn’t, and never would, because he would never be free from the sting of his past.
She sucked in air. “I owe you for saving my life.”
He tried to snort, but it sounded more like a groan. “Let’s hope you wouldn’t have died.”
She faced him, but he kept his gaze riveted to the spot where she almost fell. “Wyatt, if you need or want anything, feel free to ask. If I can, I’ll give it to you.”
Slowly his gaze sought hers and he fell into the darkness of her eyes and the sweetness of her invitation. He had needs and wants. Acceptance despite his past, someone who trusted him, believed in him, loved him. His throat tightened. His heart ached with longing. If only she could give him what he needed.
He forced himself to take slow, steadying breaths. Grabbed at reality and pulled it back where it belonged—in his head and in his heart. “Thanks. I’ll be sure to let you know if there is.” It was time to leave behind this sweet moment and he pushed to his feet. “Do you feel ready to crawl down the ladder?” He held out a hand to pull her to her feet.
She grabbed his hand and let him help her. She stood facing him without moving.
“Are you feeling dizzy? Weak?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine.” She headed for the ladder.
He stepped around her. “Let me go first so I can help you.” She didn’t protest as he descended, one rung at a time, and waited on each to help her down.
They reached the ground and he stepped aside.
Lonnie straightened from petting Grub. “What took you so long?”
“My skirt was caught in the boards.” Cora smiled at Wyatt, her fingers pressed to her throat as if she tried to contain the memory of her fright.
Only it wasn’t fear he saw in her eyes. What was it? Gratitude? Or something more? Something that grew from having shared a moment full of raw emotion? How could he tell? He was ill equipped to read the silent message contained in her eyes. He’d grown up with a mother who grew more distant with the passing years, a father who had one emotion in varying degrees, and he’d spent a year with men who calmly said one thing and meant another without revealing any emotion.
Mrs. Bell called out to them, “I’ve got fresh lemonade. Come and have some.”
They traipsed across the yard to plunk down in the shade of the house, where it was several degrees cooler than on the top of a half-finished barn. Lilly poured them all lemonade and Wyatt drank eagerly. So did Lonnie and Cora.
A smile tugged at the edges of his heart and teased his lips.
Cora noticed. “What are you grinning about?”
“Us.” He turned to explain to the others. “We about melted up there, but none of us wanted to be the first to admit the heat was getting to us.”
Lilly and Rose gave all three of them considered study.
“Who was first?”
“Me.” Lonnie sighed. “Those two are too stubborn to admit it.”
The twins laughed and Mrs. Bell tsked.
Cora looked around. “Where’s Pa?”
“He went to check on his fruit trees. Wouldn’t be surprised if he found a shady spot and fell asleep.” Mrs. Bell’s voice rang with affection.
The peas were done and the Bells seemed content to rest in the shade. So Wyatt followed their lead, quietly observing them. They were so relaxed around one another. Even Lonnie sat with Grub at his side, as relaxed as he ever got. Which meant he slid his gaze from one to the other as they talked, alert for any sign of tension.
Wyatt leaned back to watch. How long would it take for Lonnie to realize this family didn’t operate that way?
Grub trotted off, found a stick and dropped it at Lonnie’s feet.
“He wants to play,” Cora said.
“With me?”
Wyatt understood that Lonnie wondered if he had permission to play with the Bells’ dog.
“Seems
he’s chosen you,” Cora said. “Go ahead. Throw the stick for him.”
Lonnie did and laughed as Grub tripped over himself in his rush to chase it.
Wyatt’s muscles relaxed. Guess he, like Lonnie, needed to learn that people could be trusted to be kind.
How long would it take him to learn it?
Mrs. Bell took the peas inside. The others continued to lounge in the shade.
Lilly got to her feet and stretched. “I’m going to take the pea shells to the pigs.”
Lonnie stilled. “Can I go?”
“Certainly. Come along. Grab that basket.”
Rose joined them and the three carried the baskets of peapods to the pigs.
Only Cora and Wyatt remained.
“We go to town tomorrow,” she said.
“Yes.” She’d already mentioned it.
“If I go, I can’t help with the barn.”
“That’s fine.” He’d be happy enough if she kept her feet firmly planted on the ground.
“Guess I don’t have to go.” She sounded disappointed.
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“I couldn’t leave you working alone.”
“Lonnie will be here.”
She brightened. “Or you could come with us. Yes. Why don’t you? You’d get to see our little town. Besides, you and Lonnie deserve a break.”
Town was the last place he cared to be. Too many curious people. But if he refused, he had no doubt she would opt to stay home, too.
He simply wasn’t ready to see her on the loft floor again.
“A trip to town might be a nice change,” he finally said.
He could only hope no one in town asked questions of him or cared enough to look for answers.
Chapter Nine
Cora sat with her sisters on quilts in the back of the wagon, crowded in amidst the vegetables and other things they’d brought to sell and trade.
Wyatt and Lonnie perched at the end of the wagon. They’d get dusty in the cloud that rolled up from the wheels.
Ma and Pa rode on the wagon seat, as always.
They rumbled across the rocky ford of the river. The Bell farm was three miles from town—an easy walk. The girls had walked it to attend school and they often walked to church, but on Saturdays they took the wagon to carry in their produce.
