by Janet Dailey
The strong mouth slanted its Line but it never made the full transition into a smile. His glance locked with hers, his heavy with irony.
“Your niece and I have already met, although we didn’t bother to introduce ourselves at the time.” He held out his hand to her, the gesture in the way of a challenge.
Joanna longed to ignore it but it would have meant a gross display of bad manners to a guest of her uncle’s. She forced herself to shake his hand. His grip seemed to swallow her, the contact sending tingles up her arm.
“You have met?” Her uncle reacted to Linc Wilder’s statement, the frowning arch of a dark brow directing a silent query to Joanna for confirmation.
“Yes, we have,” she admitted and withdrew her hand from his grasp the instant he relaxed it. She faked an air of innocent oversight when she met her uncle’s puzzled glance. “Didn’t I mention that there was another man present yesterday when my car landed in the ditch?”
“No, I don’t recall that you did,” Reece frowned in an effort to remember what she had said.
“I must have forgotten.” She made light of the omission with a dismissing shrug.
Reece accepted her explanation that it had been an oversight and moved away from the door, inviting them to follow by his action. “Joanna told me about the incident on the road yesterday,” he admitted to Linc.
“Did she?” The mocking lilt of his voice dryly intimated that Joanna had colored the story so she wouldn’t be seen in a bad light.
Her retort was quick. “Yes, I did. Reece knows me very well—and my embarrassing habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.”
“Yes, Joanna felt badly about some of the things she said to Jessie.” Her uncle corroborated her assertion that she had been candid about her role in the events that transpired after her car landed in the ditch. Reece paused near the chintz-covered sofa positioned in front of the brick fireplace. “May I bring you some coffee, Linc?”
“Please,” he accepted.
“I’ll get it,” Joanna volunteered, welcoming an excuse to leave the room.
“No.” Her uncle firmly rejected the offer. “You stay here. I want you and Linc to get acquainted.”
Joanna was left with little choice except to agree. As her uncle departed for the kitchen, she let her gaze swing to Linc Wilder. He was standing near the couch, watching her lazily with his cat’s eyes.
Relegated to the role of hostess, she made a stiff gesture to invite him to sit down. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“Thank you.” Dryness quirked the corners of his mouth as he folded his long body onto the couch.
He removed his hat, setting it on the adjoining sofa cushion, and combed his fingers through the brown thickness of his hair to unflatten it. His glance ran back to her in a prodding reminder that she was still standing. Joanna sat down in the nearest chair, too nervous to relax against the seat back.
“So you were embarrassed yesterday?” It was a baiting question. “You didn’t appear to be.”
“No one likes to feel embarrassed. They usually try to cover it up with a show of indifference or bravado.” She relied on those ploys now and attempted to put him on the defensive by questioning his actions the previous day. “You knew who I was. You probably even guessed Reece was my uncle before I mentioned it. Yet you didn’t acknowledge that you knew him. Don’t you think that was rude not to let me know how much farther it was to the cabin?”
“That wasn’t rude. It was rural.”
“Which means?” she bristled.
“Which means we aren’t in the habit of turning the other cheek,” he replied, his level gaze on her. “You didn’t appreciate the help we gave you getting the car out of the ditch. So why should I help you again?”
“I did appreciate your help,” Joanna insisted.
“You didn’t show it,” Linc Wilder countered. “Or were you trying to supposedly cover up your true feelings again?”
“Maybe I didn’t sound properly grateful,” she conceded stiffly. “But you weren’t exactly a model of tact yourself. You can’t say that you behaved like a gentleman.”
“No, but I didn’t see any lady in the vicinity either.” His smooth reply was almost a slap in the face.
Joanna whitened. “I hope you don’t expect me to apologize for yesterday.”
“I expect nothing.”
“Good, because Mr. Bates is the only one who deserves an apology from me,” she stated with a cold glare.
An eyebrow was briefly lifted. “At least you recognize that,” he murmured.
“I recognize a lot of things, Mr. Wilder.” She was angry, controlling her temper and the volume of her voice with an effort. “I have already admitted that I’m not proud of the way I behaved yesterday, but that isn’t good enough for you. I pity your wife for being married to such a hard, unforgiving man.”
“You can save your pity. I’m not married,” he replied.
“I can see why,” Joanna declared.
Her uncle returned from the kitchen, carrying a tray with three coffee mugs on it. He set it down on the short cypress table in front of the sofa, not noticing the sudden silence that dominated the room. After he had handed each of them a mug, he sat on the couch with Linc.
“It is a lovely evening,” Reece stated on a contented note. “Did you hear the whippoorwills outside a few minutes ago?”
“No. I must not have been listening,” Linc’s drawled reply indicated a lack of interest. Joanna didn’t answer at all.
For the first time, Reece noticed the closed expressions both of them were wearing and began to suspect that all was not right. He also sensed there would be no conversation unless he carried it. “Joanna admired your home when we drove by it today, Linc,” he offered as a gambit to draw both of them into the discussion.
“Did she? I’m flattered.” But a strong thread of mockery ran through the reply.
Reece saw the way Joanna’s lips tightened in a thin Line, a sure sign of temper. “His house commands quite a fantastic view. You can see for miles. We will have to stop sometime so you can see it.”
“It sounds lovely. I can hardly wait.” She was equally taunting, cloaking it behind false politeness. As if this front of pleasantness was too difficult to maintain, she abruptly set her cup down and rose from the chair. “Excuse me, will you? If I want to reach my mother before she goes out for the evening, I need to phone her now. I have some things I want her to send.” The last was added to Reece as an explanation for the phone call.
“Use the phone in the study so you can have some privacy.” Reece straightened, out of deference to her sex, but Linc remained seated as she left the room and closed the door. Resuming his seat, Reece let the silence run between them before he finally spoke his thoughts, needing to know what was wrong. “There is friction between you and my niece. What has caused it?”
Linc’s gaze swung to the study door, narrowing slightly, then he attempted a smile. “Maybe it would be better if we talked about something else.”
“Is it something that happened yesterday?” Reece persisted with the subject, anxious to smooth out any differences between the two. “Joanna admitted to me that she had said some pretty unforgivable things. She is young and her temper is quick.”
“And her tongue is sharp,” Linc added. “And she’s a little too big for her britches.” His glance ran sideways to Reece. “Sorry, but you asked for my opinion.”
“From the time Joanna was small, her mother—my sister-in-law—has attempted to run every minute of her life. It’s natural that Joanna began to resent that and learn to stand up for herself.” Reece sketched in a little of his niece’s background so Linc could understand her present behavior. “She doesn’t like being told what to do,” he paused to eye Linc with a knowing look. “And you are used to telling people what to do.”
“Message received,” Linc acknowledged with a wry twist of his mouth. “But I still think she needs to be pushed on her backside. It takes falling on you
r rear end a few times before you appreciate landing on your feet.”
“You may have a point,” Reece chuckled at the piece of Ozark wisdom. “But you also have to admit she is an attractive girl.”
“A very attractive woman,” Linc agreed on a thoughtful note, then appeared restless, a little irritated. He drained his cup and set it on the tray. “Thanks for the coffee, Reece.”
“You aren’t leaving already,” he protested as Linc pushed to his feet.
“Yes. Give my goodbyes to your niece. I’ve done enough damage for one night,” he said.
“Come by again,” Reece issued the long standing invitation again.
“Thanks, I will.” Taking his hat, he carried it with him to the door and put it on as he walked out.
When the truck motor started up, Reece saw the doorknob to the study turning slowly. “It’s safe to come out now, Joanna,” he called to his niece, a faint light gleaming in his dark eyes. “He’s gone.”
It was several seconds before the door actually opened and Joanna emerged. Reece pretended not to notice the way her glance went immediately to the place where Linc had been sitting. “Linc said to pass along his goodbye. He wasn’t able to stay longer. By the way, did you reach Elizabeth?”
“No.” Actually she hadn’t tried, but she didn’t tell her uncle that. It would be akin to admitting cowardice. “It’s just as well. It would take too long to mail the things to me anyway. I’ll go shopping tomorrow in town and pick up the few things I’ll need while I’m here.”
“That sounds sensible,” he agreed.
“Why did you tell me it was safe to come out just because Linc Wilder was gone?” She wanted to know.
“It was obvious the two of you had been exchanging blows,” he stated. “You wanted to avoid him. That’s why you decided to call your mother.”
“I couldn’t help it. I know you like him and if I had stayed in the room—” she began tightly.
“Yes, I was aware of the sparks flying,” he smiled gently. “What happened yesterday?”
“He started giving me a lecture on my manners.”
“Which you needed?” Reece suggested with a raised eyebrow.
“Even if I did, he had no right to tell me about it, and I told him so,” she retorted.
“Joanna.” He shook his head at her with affection. “Hasn’t it occurred to you that you aren’t the only one with a lot of pride?”
“Yes, a couple of times,” she admitted grudgingly, then smiled. “How about a game of backgammon?”
“Get the board and I’ll pour some more coffee.”
They played until nearly midnight with neither one winding up a clear-cut winner although Reece did have the advantage.
Upstairs in the loft, Joanna undressed for bed. A cool breeze was whispering through the trees outside her window where a whippoorwill was making its plaintive call. After pulling on a nightgown, she folded down the bed’s coverlet and used only the sheet. She switched off the bedside lamp to send the room into darkness.
Her thoughts roamed over the evening’s events, spending too much time on Linc Wilder and the way his presence had unnerved her. Joanna turned on her side and punched the pillow beneath her head. She couldn’t seem to get comfortable. Maybe it was her conscience that was troubling her. On that thought, she closed her eyes.
Chapter Six
Joanna leaned her head out of the opened car window to call to her uncle. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me? It might not be smart to trust me with this car. I could run into a mule.”
“I trust you.” Reece laughed from the doorway of the cabin. “I have some notes to go over. Later on this afternoon I plan to do a little fishing.”
“You just don’t want to be dragged around from store to store while I try on clothes,” she accused.
“You’re right.” He waved to her and she waved back before shifting the luxury car into reverse to back out of the driveway. “Enjoy yourself!”
The big car made better going over the rough road. As she neared the fork in the road where a lane turned off to Jessie Bates’s cabin, she chewed her lip thoughtfully. It had been at the back of her mind since last night that she really should apologize to the man. She slowed the car and made the sharp turn onto the track leading to his cabin.
It was set a quarter of a mile back, deep in the woods that grew thickly all the way to the lake. All the buildings looked ancient—the log cabin, a shed, and a small barnlike structure, yet there was an absence of litter in the yard. It had a tidy and neat appearance, not at all what she had expected.
The two mules were standing head to tail inside an enclosure fenced with rough cedar posts. One turned its head to look at her, its big ears flopping at the flies, but it lost interest when she stepped out of the car. She was about to decide the owner wasn’t home. Just then the barn door squealed open and the man emerged.
Nothing about him had changed. He appeared to be wearing the same pair of baggy overalls—or a pair just like them—and a faded blue work shirt. His dark hair was just as straggly and in need of a combing, yet he looked clean. When he saw her standing there, his bony face assumed a closed expression.
“I would have come to pay you for the repairs to your car,” he declared tightly. “There was no call to come collectin’. I told you I pay ma’ debts.”
She had offended him again. “I didn’t stop because of that/’ she said quickly. “I always pay my debts, too, and I owe you an apology.” When she paused, he tipped his head back and gave her a long, considering look.
“I’m sorry for the things I said about you and your mules the other day. I wish I could take them all back, but I can’t change the fact that I said them. But I am sorry.”
“I reckon I can overlook it. ’Course I can’t speak for my mules,” he said but there appeared to be a suggestion of a twinkle in his eyes even though his stern expression didn’t change.
“Thank you.” She smiled, a little relieved. “I want you to know that my uncle speaks very highly of you.” She realized that she hadn’t introduced herself, not formally. “My name is Joanna Morgan.” She extended her hand to him.
He self-consciously wiped his on the back of his overalls before pumping her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Morgan.”
“You have a very nice place here—quiet and secluded.” Joanna felt she should say something favorable about his place as she let her glance sweep around the surroundings once more.
“Well, it’s home,” he drawled. “I ain’t interested in the luxuries of life but I shore wouldn’t mind havin’ some of the necessities, like indoor plumbin’. I’m getting tired of takin’ a bath in the spring behind the house. That water gets awful blasted cold at times.”
Her eyes widened slightly, noticing that his hair was damp and there was the smell of pine-soap clinging to his skin. He had just come from taking his bath. She was a little dazed to discover he was serious about not having running water. In these modern times, it sounded so unlikely that she had to ask.
“Do you mean you really don’t have indoor plumbing?” Unconsciously her gaze swept the buildings again. She noticed the path worn through the trees leading behind the cabin. To an outhouse?
“No,” he confirmed her suspicion. “I been thinkin’ about gettin’ some electricity. But I get to thinkin’ that after that I’d be wantin’ a stove, a refrigerator, and a television. Right now I don’t want none of those things ’cause I don’t have electricity. I decided I’m probably happier without it, ’cause I’m not wantin’ those other things that I can’t afford.”
“How do you keep your food from spoiling?”
“I gotta springhouse. It keeps everythin’ chilled just right an’ you don’t have to defrost it. Folks have been keepin’ food in a springhouse for years,” he explained.
“Oh.” She had thought they had vanished with the advent of television. It was becoming clear what Reece had meant when he’d said Jessie Bates enjoyed being eccentric.
&
nbsp; “Excuse me a minute, while I go in the house and get the money I owe ya’.” He started to turn away to walk to the porch steps.
“Wait.” Joanna caught at his arm, feeling the tensile strength of his wiry muscles beneath the thin fabric of his shirt sleeve. “I really would rather that you didn’t pay it because I feel so badly about the way I behaved. Besides, there virtually wasn’t any damage to the car—just the paint scratched in a few places. It doesn’t amount to anything.”
“It was my fault for pulling out on the road like that. I gotta pay,” he insisted.
She was about to argue when she remembered her uncle’s comment last night that other people had pride, too. “All right,” she gave in. “Ten dollars should cover the damage.”
“It won’t take me but a minute to fetch it,” he said. His spindly legs carried him swiftly over the ground and up the steps to the cabin’s door.
Alone in the yard, Joanna studied the clearing and its primitive buildings. The rocky ground was scattered with clumps of grass stubbornly forcing their way through the inhospitable earth. Most were thin, spindly blades, but some grew tall and defiant.
There was a quiet here that wasn’t really silent. The buzz of the flies and the stomping of a mule’s hoof, the soft swish of its tail intermixed with the distant chatter of a squirrel in the woods and the trilling calls of birds. But all of them were subtle sounds, in harmony with the surroundings. Therefore, it was the quiet solitude of the place that made the strongest impression on Joanna, rather than its many inhabitants.
The slam of the screen door hit a strident note and her glance swung to the cabin and the scrawny man descending the porch steps. She noticed the several bills clasped between his long, bony fingers.
“Here you go.” He handed the money to her. “Now we’re square.”
“Yes.” Joanna wasn’t about to insult him by counting it. So she folded the curling and age-worn bills and slipped them in the side pocket of her slacks, trying not to think about where it might have been stashed in his cabin. No doubt he had some secure and obscure hidey-hole for his valuables. “It’s very quiet here. Doesn’t it bother you not to have any neighbors living close by?”
