Daisy took the rough paper and scrubbed at the lumber vigorously. She had enough splinters to last through the rest of the year.
“Easy.” Bryce came up alongside her. He reached over and put his hand atop hers, leaning in and pulling back. “You don’t have to attack it. Simple, straight strokes.”
Daisy’s arm tingled. She turned her head the slightest bit and barely refrained from burying her face in his chest. Bryce smelled so good, like sawdust and leather and strong soap.
He let go, and Daisy had to force herself to keep sanding. Suddenly, the afternoon felt cold. She hoped this project would be finished soon—she didn’t know how much longer she could work alongside him and not push back that errant lock of wavy brown hair that teased his strong brow.
As Bryce continued working, he noticed how rough the sandpaper was. He’d used it often in his life but never realized how coarse the paper felt beneath his fingertips. Daisy’s hand had been so soft—had she noticed how rough his own palm was?
He shook away the pesky thoughts. He’d never met a woman any finer than Daisy Thales. She didn’t demand he entertain her or even expect him to try to fill the air with meaningless chitchat. Daisy made him feel comfortable—except for when being near her made him ache to hold her closer.
And he couldn’t. Strong though his attraction to her had grown, Bryce had noticed how Daisy made it more than clear she didn’t need him. She’d already lost the man she loved, worked hard to build a life for herself and her son, and was trying to regain what the fire took from them. Daisy had made her plans, and he wasn’t a part of them. When he left, it would be easier to quell his urge to take her in his arms, but now, while she filled the house and his mind, he struggled.
Lord, I know this is not the woman for me. She isn’t interested in me and has no place for a new husband in her plans, much less one who would take her and her son from everything and everyone they love. My home is Chance Ranch, my place beside my family. Daisy works so hard to make a life for her and Jamie here. They’ve lost so much. I can’t pursue her with the aim of making them leave behind the few things they have. I won’t try to make her feel for me what I feel for her. Lord, please take away my longing and let me enjoy her and Jamie’s friendship instead. Amen.
After a quick break for a hasty lunch of bread, cheese, and apples—with the stove not hooked up and still blocking the hearth, no cooking could be done—he and Daisy finished reconstructing the doorframe.
Daisy shut the door, then opened it again before passing judgment. “Perfect!”
“Snug, but it shouldn’t stick.” Bryce nodded. It would hold out drafts and danger, keeping Miz Willow—and Daisy and Jamie—warm and safe.
“I’ll have the stove installed tomorrow morning,” Bryce planned aloud. “We’ll need to move it over near the table for tonight so it doesn’t block the heat or the beds. Where are those pie tins?”
“Jist a minute.” Daisy rummaged around on the shelves and pulled them down. After they’d slid the stove to the foot of the bed, she put her hands on her hips. “Seems to me I better get some supper going.”
“I’m not going to argue with that.” Bryce laughed. They’d worked hard for two days. A hearty meal would go a long way to renew his strength.
He left her bustling around the hearth and went to clear up the area where they’d prepared the lumber. He threw the scraps on the woodpile, which would need attention. He and Logan hadn’t cut nearly enough to last the cabin through a long mountain winter, and that was before they’d put on the addition, which would need heat through the cold months, as well.
He gathered the sawdust and added it to the barrelful he and Logan had collected already. Sawdust was good for the stables—coated the floor and helped with the barn smell.
As he worked, the crisp crunch of fallen leaves beneath his boots caught his attention. Autumn, bringing with it bold colors of gold and red, had touched the holler. Soon the fall shades would take the place of all the green of summer. Bryce had to leave before winter; his time here was growing short.
Which meant he had to make the most of it. He fetched a rake from the barn and attacked the leaves, drawing them into a single pile.
Not big enough. Bryce had already cleared the way from the barn to the cabin, but the pile didn’t yet suit his purpose. He went around the barn and on the other side of Hattie and Logan’s room to gather more leaves. He corralled them into one huge pile— big as a small haystack—in the middle of the cleared area.
“Can I borrow Jamie here for a minute?” Bryce stuck his head through the doorway. “I need his opinion on something.”
Jamie looked at his mama with the big brown eyes so like hers. Bryce saw Daisy hesitate, then smile.
“Of course.” She gave her permission without asking Bryce what he wanted to do.
Good. She was learning to trust him. She needed to loosen the apron strings a little so Jamie could try more things.
“Why don’t you come with us?” Bryce scooped the little boy into his arms and tromped back outside. He knew Daisy followed.
He stopped just outside the door and made a show of surveying the land. Jamie’s big eyes looked around eagerly.
“Nope. Guess I must’ve left it a little farther away.” Bryce turned past the side of the cabin and stopped again. He smiled as Jamie peered around excitedly. Daisy cast a quick look around, then, seeing nothing, sent Bryce a questioning glance.
“Hmm…I know I left it around here somewhere.” Bryce made a show of looking around before turning the corner once again and letting out a triumphant “Ha!” He bounced Jamie a bit. “Now isn’t that the biggest pile of leaves you ever saw in your life?” Bryce waited for the little boy’s nod.
“Do you know what we do with leaf piles?”
Jamie shook his head.
“Well, I’d better show you!” Bryce held Jamie aloft. “Ready?”
Jamie barely nodded when Bryce tossed him high in the air, sending the shrieking boy toppling into the massive pile of leaves.
Chapter 9
Jamie!” Daisy screamed as she ran to the pile of leaves. What if he’d hit his head or broken an arm? Her baby lay shrieking in fear and probably pain, or—
Laughter! Jamie rolled around in the huge pile, flailing his arms and twisting around to make the leaves crunch. As she knelt beside him in the pile—even under their weight, neither touched the hard ground—her son gathered handfuls of leaves and threw them up to shower around them.
“F–un!” Jamie giggled when he got back enough of his breath. He struggled to sit up on the shifting pile, then gave a few experimental bounces.
“Oh,” Daisy gasped and gathered him close. Praise the Lord he wasn’t hurt. She’d heard that piercing shriek and thought the worst.
“Go.” Jamie wriggled out of her grasp and flopped back in the leaves.
Daisy drew a deep breath and stood up. She turned around to find Bryce regarding her with those deep blue eyes of his. She smoothed back her hair and walked up to him.
“You gave me a fright, Bryce Chance,” she said, admitting what he already must know.
“I’d never hurt Jamie,” he responded in a low voice, so the little boy wouldn’t hear.
“I know,” Daisy apologized in those two words. “I heard him shrieking like that, and I was afeared….” Her voice trailed off as they both watched her son happily crunching leaves. “I’ve never heard him laugh like that.”
Jamie smiled almost all the time, always ready with a giggle to lift her heart. But this spontaneous cry of joy, the adventurous yell of a little boy exploring the world, was new. For both of them.
She looked around. It was early in the season to have raked up so much foliage. Bryce had purposely gone all around the barn and house to make a pile big enough so Jamie would be safe. He’d thought up a way to give Jamie a new experience and make the little boy feel daring without danger. She’d never have thought of something like this.
“Thankee, Bryce.” She
remembered his apparent discomfort when thanked, only after the words were spoken. I hope I didn’t embarrass him again.
“You’re welcome.” Bryce grinned at her, his easy acknowledgment warming her heart.
“Ag’n?” Jamie’s eager question caught their attention.
“I don’t know.” Daisy surveyed the flattened and scattered pile doubtfully.
“Hold on, buddy.” Bryce hauled Jamie out of the pile and deposited him in Daisy’s arms. He grabbed the rake he’d probably used in the first place and busily set about reconstructing the pile. He reached for Jamie, and Daisy willingly gave him up.
“Wait.” Bryce sat Jamie down where he could lean up against the wall. “I think something’s missing.”
Too late, Daisy realized what Bryce intended as he headed her way. She let out a flustered “Eek!” as his strong hands closed around her waist. She didn’t have time to enjoy the sensation before she went sailing through the air and crunching through the leaves.
“Bryce Chance!” she blustered, struggling to extricate herself.
“Yes?” He stood over her, holding Jamie.
“This was supposed to be for Jamie.” She tried to scowl but couldn’t manage it in the face of her baby’s delighted smile.
“You’re right.” Bryce jumped in beside her, sending Jamie crashing though the leaves and into her arms.
She laughed so hard her sides hurt, and Jamie giggled right along. Finally, she was able to stand up and move Jamie to the edge of the pile. She needed to go check on dinner. She was about to tell Bryce as much when he started climbing out of the flattened mess, but then she changed her mind.
“Your turn.” She planted her hands on Bryce’s broad shoulders and shoved until he toppled back.
Jamie’s laughter rent the air once more as he scooched over and pushed more leaves on top of Bryce. Daisy couldn’t remember the last time they’d had so much fun.
“Whew,” Bryce breathed as he leaned back and stretched. “I’m so full I couldn’t eat another bite.”
“I should hope not!” Daisy smiled to soften the words.
“Nothin’ left even if yore stomach could hold it.” Miz Willow looked at the empty dishes on the table.
The healer has a point, Daisy reflected. Bryce alone had packed away three biscuits slathered with butter, two bowls of stew, and almost half of her fresh-baked apple pie.
She watched as he gave his stomach a satisfied pat, only to have a wince crease his face.
“Too full, Bryce?” She knew he was startled by the look he gave her.
“Nah. Can’t get enough of your fine cooking, ladies.” Bryce held up his left hand. “Stubborn splinter.” He massaged the area around the wound.
“Why didn’t you say so?” Miz Willow straightened up and came back with tweezers and some witch hazel. She filled a bowl with warm water. “Put yore hand in that for a mite, and the wood’ll swoll up so it cain be picked out. Daisy’ll hafta do it.” The old woman looked ruefully at her hands, so gnarled with years of work and late rheumatism.
Daisy cleared the table as Bryce obediently stuck his hand in the bowl. It didn’t fit, so he stuck his palm into the water with his fingers rising up out of the bowl.
I hope I cain get it without hurtin’ him, Daisy fretted. I should, after all the time I done spent doin’ fine needlework.
The memory of his hands on her as he caught the mirror and later taught her to use sandpaper sent a shiver down her spine. Keeping steady while she felt the strength in his work-roughened palms would be far more difficult than embroidering lace.
After Miz Willow declared he’d soaked long enough, Daisy patted the area dry and looked at the splinter. The offending piece of wood, now plumped with water, made a dark, jagged path down Bryce’s palm near his thumb. She slid her right hand beneath to hold it steady in the light before gingerly grabbing the edge of the wood with the tweezers. She held her breath as she tugged the splinter, having to work it to the sides a bit before it slid out. Blood filled the line made by the splinter as she cleansed the wound with witch hazel.
He didn’t flinch or make a sound, even though it had been the biggest splinter Daisy had ever laid eyes on. Must’ve hurt somethin’ awful.
He could hardly feel it. The second Daisy touched his hand, the pain lessened. When the trickle of blood stopped, Daisy released him.
“You’re left-handed,” Bryce spoke the realization aloud. She’d held his injured hand in her right and used the left to work the tweezers. How had he not noticed it before? Little wonder she’d had so much trouble with the saw—he’d had Daisy using her right hand.
“Yes. Always have been.” Daisy gave the witch hazel back to Miz Willow.
“I never noticed before—I would’ve given you a different saw. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Didn’t think it was important.” She visibly bristled. “I don’t need any extry help.”
This is the way she lives her whole life. Not speaking up when she needs help, not trusting anyone else to care for her or her son properly. Does she even realize how thoroughly she cuts herself off from other people? She goes to church and teaches her son Bible verses, but Daisy relies only on herself. Who am I to point out her flaws when I’m not staying around anyway? Lord, she’s been hurt and survived a lot of loss, but she still needs to lean on You.
It took the better part of the next day to get the stove set up and functioning properly. Bryce could hardly make heads or tails of the blurry, smudged instructions, so he ended up learning by trial and error.
Finally, Bryce stood back and surveyed his work. They’d put it in the original hearth cavity, but not all the way. The range and oven poked out for easy use. All in all, it hardly took up any more room than the original hearth, and it would work a lot better.
“Nice,” Daisy said appreciatively.
“I hope so.” Bryce scowled at the troublesome machine. “Two days to fetch and haul it back, one to destroy the doorway and get it inside. Another to repair the damage, and one more to set the contraption up. Five days of work.” Bryce shook his head. “I was beginning to think it wouldn’t be ready before Logan and Hattie got back!”
Daisy burst out laughing. The hearty, happy sound made Bryce smile in and of itself, but…
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh!” Daisy gasped and pointed to the stove. “I was jist thinkin’ now might not be the best time to point out how we left two pie tins under the back legs.”
“No!” Bryce hunkered down and peered at the floor of the hearth. Sure enough, two pie tins lay beneath the stove legs, halfway into the recess of the hearth.
“I already put together the stovepipe and connected it to the flue.” Bryce hung his head in frustration. “I can’t lift it now.”
“Cain’t lift what now?” Miz Willow stood in the cabin doorway.
“The stove, Miz Willow.” Daisy gestured to the far wall. “We left two pie tins under the back feet.”
“Hunh.” Miz Willow squinted at her shelves for a minute. “Well, I had three, and Hattie brung a pair when she moved in, so I reckon we don’t need ’em.”
“Praise be.” Bryce stood up and brushed stove black off his hands. “It’s done then.”
“Good thing, too.” Miz Willow turned back outside to resume her lesson with Jamie. “Logan and Hattie’ll be back tomorra.”
Chapter 10
Daisy didn’t see Hattie or Logan until the next night. But when the newly married couple arrived, they were tired and decided to go straight to bed. Daisy and Bryce met them in the barn to help unload the wagon and settle in the horses.
“It’s late, and we ate some jerky and biscuits on the ride here,” Logan explained.
“It’s good to be home.” Hattie yawned, but despite being tuckered out, she glowed from the time spent with her new husband.
Daisy felt a surge of gratitude toward Logan Chance for seeing beyond her sisterin-law’s barrenness to the worth of the woman herself. He’d made Hatti
e happier than Daisy had seen her since before Horace Thales passed on.
Now that Hattie’s remarried, she’s not a Thales anymore, Daisy realized. I wonder if that means we aren’t sisters-in-law no more. Not that it matters. Hattie will always be kin in my heart.
“Daisy and I’ll help you carry in your bags,” Bryce offered, winking at Daisy.
Ignoring the flutter caused by that wink, Daisy nodded and gathered up the luggage and purchases the newlyweds had brought home.
When they got to the cabin, Bryce opened the door but hung back near Daisy to let the happy couple inside first. They wearily headed straight to their room, completely missing the fact that the new stove now dominated the hearth. Daisy and Bryce exchanged a shocked look. He held a finger up to his lips, and she nodded. It could wait.
The glow from the small fire Daisy had set in the hearth in the newlyweds’ room bathed the finished place.
“Look, Logan!” Hattie turned around to take everything in, still holding a saddlebag clutched to her chest. “The quilt is on the bed, and they moved the carved trunk.” She dropped the saddlebags onto Logan’s desk and walked over to the washstand. “Daisy, you hung the curtains and our new towels! What’s this?” Hattie traced the carving around the mirror. “It’s beautiful!” She enveloped her friend in a warm hug.
“We thought it’d be a nice surprise.” Daisy hugged her back.
“You put up the mantel.” Logan ran his hands across it. “And hung the pegs.” He turned to beam at Bryce and Daisy. “You two finished everything!”
“Not everything.” Bryce shrugged off the praise, but Daisy could tell he was pleased with their reaction.
“We put things in order,” Daisy agreed, “but it takes love to make a house a home.”
“With Hattie by my side and good friends around us”—Logan put an arm around his wife and smiled at everyone—“I think we’ve got a good start.”
The next morning, Hattie made her way into the cabin’s main room to help prepare breakfast. After hugging Miz Willow and swooping down on Jamie for a quick kiss on the forehead, she turned to the hearth.
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