She nibbled her lower lip. She’d never referred to a man by his first name, except for when she and Laura had talked about Sean Murphy. But what harm could it do? She bit her lip as if making a crucial decision and nodded.
“Good. I reckon I should get back to work.” He tipped his hat, gathered his reins, and walked back toward her. Leaning close, he whispered, “You’re not the least bit plain—Annie.”
While Tess and Becky washed and dried the supper dishes, Annie put away the clean silverware. On the far side of the kitchen near the back door, Laura washed Camilla’s hair in the round basin, while Lissa fidgeted beside them, waiting her turn. Today wasn’t their usual bath day, but Laura had discovered that a traveling minister was in town, and they’d all be going to the tent meeting the following evening.
“Ack!” Laura squealed. “Hold still, girl, you’re getting me all wet!”
Annie snickered, but immediately sobered. Before long, these pleasant evenings with the children would be a thing of the past. She knew the girls would adapt to being home again easily enough and probably preferred being with their parents, but what would happen to the boys? To her and Laura?
A teardrop rolled down her cheek, and she swiped it off with her sleeve. This was foolishness. Crying had never accomplished anything except making her nose stuffy and red. She needed to get away before Laura noticed and became concerned. With the silverware all put away and ready for tomorrow’s breakfast, she walked back to the older girls. “I have … uh … something I need to do, so finish up here then go upstairs and prepare for bed.”
“Yes, Miss Annie,” they said in unison.
She hung her towel on a peg to dry then hurried from the room, feeling Laura’s questioning eyes on her. Outside, her feet propelled her toward the barn—the place where she’d often sought sanctuary when she needed to be alone. At least that’s how things had been before Riley Morgan moved in. She was thankful he was presently gone to the Brazos to help the boys wash up.
At the last minute, she turned from the barn, slipped through the gate, and walked out to the pasture to get Bertha. What would happen to the old cow when the school closed?
Annie’s throat tightened and her lower lip wobbled. She didn’t want anything to change. Why couldn’t things just keep going the way they had the past seven years? She’d been so happy and contented, and for the first time in her life, she’d had a real home. Tears poured down her cheeks, and she stopped, lifted the edge of her apron, and wiped them off. She’d never been one to give in to tears, but her heart was breaking.
Bertha plodded toward her, eager for her supper and ready to be relieved of the milk she’d produced all day. Annie patted the cow’s head then wrapped her arms around Bertha’s neck. The deep moo from the complaining creature vibrated against Annie’s chest, bringing out a giggle in spite of her melancholy. “All right. I can take a hint. C’mon.”
Bertha followed her to the gate then plodded into the barn and into her stall. She stuck her head in the empty bucket then looked back at Annie with sad, pathetic eyes. Annie grinned and shook her head. Leave it to the cow to cheer her up. “You look so pitiful.”
From out of their hidey holes, the three cats hurried to her side, meowing. She filled Bertha’s feed bucket then settled in to do the milking. Ever since arriving, Riley had taken over the job, but she found the rhythmic motion soothing, and if the cow didn’t cheer her up, the cats surely would.
The scents of hay, animals, and fresh milk surrounded her, filling her with contentment as the milk level rose in the bucket. Maybe she could move away from Waco to a place where people didn’t look at her as if she were only half a person, and find a job working for some rancher or helping his wife. She was a passable cook, having helped Mrs. Alton and even filling in for her when the woman was unable to work or was ill. But she hated leaving all that was familiar to go to another place, as she had so many times as a child—a place where there were nothing but strangers. At least strangers wouldn’t see her as a blind woman who was incapable of doing anything and had no value. Why did people have to look down their noses at others who were different?
Salt and Pepper licked their paws while Penelope crept toward the bucket. “Oh, no you don’t.” Annie pulled down on one teat and aimed it at the tabby, shooting her with milk. The surprised cat jumped and darted through the slats of the stall at the same time Salt and Pepper dashed away.
“Who are you talking to?”
Annie jumped at the sound of Riley’s voice near the barn entrance. She’d been so engrossed in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard him return with the boys—and not hearing Rusty wasn’t an easy feat. Her heart thumped, and she scrambled for a response.
He walked toward her then stopped right behind her. “You should have left the milking for me. I’d planned to do it.”
She shrugged, grateful for the change of topic. “It’s no bother. I actually enjoy the quiet here.”
“I guess it is pretty noisy at the house. Henry’s fairly quiet, but that Rusty can jabber like a magpie.”
Annie nodded. “That’s so true, but he’s a dear boy.”
“Why don’t you let me take over there?”
She sat up, stretching her tense back and arms. Even though only a bit over a week had passed since she last milked, her muscles complained as if it had been months. Besides, if she quit milking, she’d be free to leave and not have him hovering over her. “I just might take you up on that offer. Laura could probably use my assistance inside.”
He helped her up and back from the cow, hung his hat on a post, then took her place. At least he didn’t belittle her by offering to escort her back to the house. With his strong hands and arms, he made the milk splash in the bucket at a much quicker pace than she had. She stared at his wide shoulders, her eyes following the line of his body, which narrowed to a trim waist. A few times she’d spied young lovers at church socials or town events off by themselves. Once, a girl had laid her cheek against her beau’s chest and his arms had wrapped around her. She’d never understood why a woman would want to let a man hold her like that. Had never been tempted to allow a man such liberties … until now.
He peeked over his shoulder at her, and stared for a moment. She worked hard to keep a straight face and to keep her gaze focused on a fly walking across Bertha’s side. Riley scowled, and without warning, shot up from the stool, forcing her to take a backward step to avoid being in the very position she had earlier pondered. What was wrong with him?
“What’s the matter?”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
He lifted his hand, pointed it at his face, and wagged it up and down. “Your nose is red. Have you been crying?”
Her cheeks warmed, as if she’d been standing over the stove cooking in the heat of a summer’s afternoon. She covered her nose to hide the evidence, but he tugged her hand away. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
She shook her head, moved that he was concerned for her. “I can’t.”
“If someone bothered you—”
Her gaze darted up but she jerked it back down, noticing that his sleeves were rolled up to reveal his tanned arms. “No, it’s nothing like that.”
He relaxed his stance and ran his hand through his hair. “Well, I’m a good listener if you ever want to talk about it.”
She’d never had a man overly worried about her, and didn’t know how to respond. Shifting from foot to foot, she struggled with what to say.
He leaned his hip against the stall gate. “Is this about the school closing?”
Her gaze shot up to his, but again, she stopped before looking into his eyes. “How do you know about that?”
“Miss Laura came out onto the porch and told me when I brought the boys back. It’s a crying shame that Mr. Ramsey is so selfish. Makes me want to …” He punched his fist into his hand. “Never mind.”
Annie nearly smiled at the image of distasteful Mr. Ramsey sitting on his backside in the dirt after Riley had clobbered
him. She sucked in her lips until she got control. “So what are you going to do?”
He lifted one shoulder and dropped it. “Miss Laura said I could stay here until the thirty days were up, if I want to—for room and board.”
“And do you?”
A smile twittered on his lips. “Could be. I’ll have to wait and see what happens.”
“With what?” She noticed Penelope peeking at the abandoned bucket from between the stall slats. “I should go and let you finish the milking, since you were kind enough to offer.”
“It can wait. If you want to stay and … and talk some more.”
“Thank you, but I—I’m not sure I can talk about it just yet.” Not without breaking down, and she wasn’t about to do that in front of him.
Penelope stepped between the slats and crept toward the bucket of milk. “I’ll just head on inside.”
“You don’t have to always run away, you know. I don’t bite.”
She smiled. “I can honestly say I never once thought that.”
“Whew!” He swiped his hand across his forehead in an exaggerated motion and grinned.
She’d never had a man tease her in a nice way. They’d always made catcalls or poked fun at her because they thought she was blind. If they had enough time, maybe she and Riley could actually become friends.
Penelope took another step and glanced at Annie, as if daring her to do something. Two more steps and the cat would have free access to the milk. As if sensing Annie’s dilemma, Bertha swished her tail, spooking the cat so badly that she jumped straight up into the air. Penelope let out a howl that made Riley jump. The cat dashed right across his boot tips, sending him reeling backwards into Bertha, arms pumping. Annie had to turn away or he’d for sure see her laughing.
Working hard to keep the humor from her voice, she asked, “Did something happen to one of the cats?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He chuckled. “We almost lost the bucket of milk, though. I reckon I should finish the milking, then I need to bring the horses in from the pasture.”
Annie was relieved that he found humor in the situation rather than letting such a thing embarrass him and make him angry like her father would have.
“Would you like me to walk you to the house first?”
She frowned. “I think I can handle that on my own. That’s what the guide ropes are for, you know?”
“Hey now, don’t take things the wrong way. It has nothing to do with you being … uh … well, you know.” He crossed his arms for a moment, dropped them to his side, then crossed them again. “It’s just a polite thing for a gentleman to escort a lady. That’s all.”
“Oh. Um … I appreciate that, but I know you have things you need to do.”
“Nothing that can’t wait.”
“What about the milk? You can’t leave it or the cats will get into it. Trust me, I know.”
His face brightened. “We can take it with us. It will only take a minute or two to walk you back.”
A sensation, like drinking hot tea on a cold night, trickled through her insides and down to her stomach. She knew she shouldn’t open the gate and allow Riley Morgan into the small world of people she cared about, but there was something about the man that made her want to unlatch it and let him enter. Sometimes she didn’t think her feigned blindness bothered him in the least, but other times, she was sure it did. The man was a puzzle that she’d like to figure out.
He approached, holding the bucket in one hand, and held out his other elbow. “Here’s my arm.”
She took it and glanced upward, staring at his lips.
He gazed back at her for a long moment. “Has anyone ever told you that you have pretty eyes?”
His unexpected compliment took her off guard. She’d grown up suspicious of people and hadn’t known what it was like to be able to trust anyone until she’d come here. She wondered if he could have some reason for telling her such things. Could he want something from me?
“Um … sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It’s just that your eyes are so dark—they remind me of Bertha’s.”
Annie gasped. “A cow? My eyes remind you of a cow’s?” She jerked her arm free of his then reached out with both hands and shoved him sideways.
He held out the milk bucket and shuffled sideways in his effort to not spill any. “Hold on! That’s not what I meant. And besides, cows have pretty eyes.”
She lifted her nose in the air to give him a good look at her cow-eyes. “I’ll just find my own way home, Mr. Morgan.”
“Annie! Wait.”
She didn’t stop or turn but marched out of the barn. “It’s Miss Sheffield to you.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Laura unpinned her blonde hair, and it cascaded down around her shoulders as she shook it out.
Annie sighed. If only she had such pretty hair—and eyes the color of the sky. But no, she had cow eyes and mousy brown hair. She might as well be an animal. She blew out a loud breath and lay down on her bed, resting her chin in her hands.
“What was that for?” Laura asked.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
Laura set her hands in her lap and stared at her. “Try me.”
Scowling, Annie crunched her lips together, dreading to hear those horrible words voiced again. “Oh, fine then. That—that Mr. Morgan said I had eyes like Bertha.”
Laura’s eyes widened, and she snorted in her struggle to not laugh. “Oh, surely not.”
Pushing up, Annie perched on the edge of her bed and crossed her arms. “Yes, he did.”
Losing the battle, Laura fell back against the wall, cackling. Tears ran down her eyes, and she mopped them with the sleeve of her nightgown.
“It’s not funny.” Annie didn’t like her friend laughing at her, but she was glad to see her not frowning. Laura hadn’t smiled once all day—until now. If Annie hadn’t been so devastated, she might have found humor in the situation herself, but honestly, what was there to laugh at when the man you’ve barely started liking says you resemble a cow. Tomorrow, she’d start taking a smaller amount of food on her plate, lest she be called a pig next.
Finally, Laura got control of herself. “My goodness. I haven’t laughed like that in ages.”
Annie leaned back against the wall and stared out the window at the blackened sky. “I was so mortified.”
Laura snorted again, but managed to regain control. “I believe he meant that as a compliment.”
Annie leaned forward. “Don’t defend him. And if that’s a compliment, I’d sure hate to hear what he thinks of people he doesn’t like.”
Laura pulled the soft locks away from her face and said, “Men often have trouble saying what they mean. They’re not as good at communicating as women are. What exactly did he say?”
“I’d rather not repeat it,” Annie replied loftily. She stared at the sampler she’d made during her first years at the children’s home. The alphabet stitched in bold, black script covered the top quarter of the fabric, and below that was a row of meticulously sewn flowers in various colors. Centered at the bottom was a replica of the Wilcox School for the Blind. She had painstakingly worked on the sampler an hour or so each evening after she’d come up to her room, and their room was the only place Laura would allow her to hang it, for fear someone would ask questions about who had stitched it. At least when she looked at it in the future, it would remind her of this place and Laura’s continual patience in teaching her to sew.
Laura rose, crossed the small room and sat on Annie’s bed. Still vexed with her, Annie refused to look at her.
“I apologize for laughing, but I think I understand what Mr. Morgan was trying to say.”
Annie’s gaze snapped to Laura’s. “You do?”
Nodding, Laura reached for Annie’s hand. “Yes, Sean once told me my hair reminded him of melted butter. I thought he meant it was too oily since several days had passed since bath day. I was angry with him for weeks and refused to tal
k to him.”
“Oh, dear. That sure isn’t very romantic.” Annie tried to imagine big, ol’ Sean trying to say sweet words of love to her friend, but it was hard. “At least he didn’t say you reminded him of a four-legged barnyard animal!”
Laura patted her hand in a patronizing manner, and Annie was tempted to pull away, but she didn’t. The gentle contact reminded her of how her mother used to touch her, so many long years ago. She laid her head on Laura’s shoulder, trying not to think of how lonely she would be once they parted.
“Don’t take me wrong or get upset, but I can see why Mr. Morgan compared your eyes to Bertha’s. Most people think cows have pretty eyes. Yours are a beautiful deep-brown shade, and you do have long lashes.”
“But certainly not like a cow’s.”
“No, not that long, of course. I do believe you caught Riley Morgan’s eye, though.”
Annie pushed away. She was tired of how she felt whenever she thought of Riley or when he came near. She just wanted everything to go back to the way things used to be. “Well, I don’t want any part of him. And why would you say such a thing? Attracted to me? Humph.”
Night sounds serenaded them—crickets in the grass and tree frogs that liked to climb up the side of the house chimed in, too. Far off, a horse whinnied. Annie rose and walked to the window, staring at the dark silhouette of the barn. She wondered if Riley was sleeping in there. She leaned forward, eyes searching for his lean figure.
“I see him watching you when he thinks no one’s looking,” Laura whispered. “And he told me he thinks you’re amazing.”
Annie’s chin dropped, and she couldn’t do a thing to stop it. After a moment she realized how she must look with her mouth hanging open and shut it. “You can’t possibly be serious. He’s never given me the impression that he liked me. In fact, quite the opposite.”
Cocking her head, Laura studied her. “What has he done to make you think he doesn’t like you?”
Annie shook her head and flung her arms out to the side. “I don’t know. He always tries to walk me back to the house—as if I’m incapable of finding it, even though I’ve walked to it a million times. And he always tries to take over the milking if he sees me doing it, when I’ve been doing it for years. And he wouldn’t let me help clean up his house. He must think blind people aren’t capable of doing anything.”
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