SEALs of Chance Creek 01 - A SEAL's Oath

by Cora Seton

  Savannah, Avery and Nora got a censored version of her time with Boone. They thought she was doing a masterful job of making him woo her. The truth was, Boone was playing her like a fine violin.

  His flirtation was subtle. A touch here, a smile there. He hadn’t tried to make love to her again, and Riley wasn’t ready to take the lead again. She found his new penchant for conversation more of an aphrodisiac than anything else he’d done so far. It was as if the years had fallen away and they were back to being kids, before hormones had made their friendship tricky. When she realized she wouldn’t get more than a good-night kiss at the end of the evening, she relaxed, let loose her tight rein on her memories and enjoyed Boone’s company more than she should.

  They swapped stories about their lives in the past thirteen years, although she was sure he censored his with an iron hand. When she questioned him about the darker side of his missions, he just shook his head. “Some things should stay in the past,” he told her. But he answered her other questions willingly and she built a portrait from the pieces he gave her that led her to believe Boone had served his country honorably—and that he’d been meant to be a SEAL.

  She’d also come to realize something specific had happened to make sustainability such a priority with him. He’d referred to it a couple of times, but only obliquely. Riley wondered if he’d ever share that story fully. Sometimes she thought if he did she’d finally understand his singlemindedness on the topic.

  “You’re really going to hand wash our clothes?” Nora asked Riley, bringing her back to the present.

  “It seems like an awful lot of work,” Avery said.

  “You’re the one who inspired me with your cooking. I like learning about life during Jane’s time. Why not try laundry the old-fashioned way? Besides, I’d have to lug it to town otherwise. Between the taxi ride and several hours at a laundromat, that sounds like way too many opportunities for someone to make fun of me.”

  “One of us would go with you, and James would give us a ride.”

  “James has given us rides all over the place. He’s not a taxi service.” Riley wasn’t sure she could express her real reason. She’d found that without a job, she experienced time differently. Her brain wasn’t stuffed with a million details, so she had the luxury of curiosity. She’d begun to read Pride and Prejudice again in the evenings before bedtime and realized the book glossed over many details of Regency life, especially when it came to the way households were run. Jane Austen’s contemporaries would have known how things were done, but Riley didn’t, and when it came time to do the laundry, she’d decided to learn for herself.

  “Don’t you have your own chores to do?” Riley said when Avery and Nora lingered. As hard as it would be to hand wash the dresses and linens they’d worn this week, it would be harder to do it with the two of them staring at her.

  “You’re right. Good luck!” Avery curtsied, and headed toward the back of the house. Nora stayed. She’d been restless the last few days and Riley was worried about her.

  “How did women do this in winter?”

  “The exact same way, I suppose, but using the hearth inside.”

  “What a waste of time.” Nora paced away, then came back. “Think about it, Riley, all those women over the years slaving over household chores rather than using their minds. What a complete and utter waste.”

  “When you think of how hard it was, it was valuable work, don’t you think? Without them life would have been so uncomfortable.”

  “When has women’s work ever been valued?” Nora flung back at her.

  Riley’s heart sank. She’d known this moment was coming. While the rest of them were enjoying their break from the twenty-first century, Nora was at loose ends. She’d been writing during the afternoons, but she never looked happy while she did it. Riley wondered if Nora still felt guilty for not completing the school year.

  “I value your work.”

  “No, you don’t! You persuaded me to give it up and come here.”

  “I persuaded you to escape from a job where someone wanted to kill you. How can you complain about that?”

  “I loved that job! Why can’t any of you understand that? I loved my job and some stupid kid ruined it for me. I was helping people! I was changing lives. I’m not doing that here. I’m just… playing dress up.”

  Riley, who had picked up the basket of their dirty clothing in order to carry it closer to the cauldron, dropped it again. “I’m doing a hell of a lot more than playing dress up! I can’t speak for the others, but this past week has been amazing. I’ve reintroduced art into my life. I feel like I can breathe for the first time in years!”

  “So where’s all your art? You haven’t finished a single piece.”

  Stung, Riley raised her voice. “We’ve only been here a week. This isn’t a contest—it’s a life. I value the silence and the hours free to experiment, and if it takes me time to finish a painting, that’s all right.”

  “The thing is, time is all we’ve got here. Do you know how it feels to watch it tick away and know someone else is teaching my classes? I failed, Riley. I did the worst thing a teacher can do—I walked away.”

  Her words tripped Riley up, because there was a kernel of truth there; some of Nora’s students might feel abandoned. But in a life-or-death situation like that, what was she supposed to do?

  “I can’t stand wasting my days like this,” Nora went on.

  Riley’s sympathy fell away in tatters. She might be doing a lot of things, but she wasn’t wasting her time here. “Are you saying writing is a waste of time? Or have you found out already that your literary pretensions were just that? Pretensions?”

  She knew she’d gone too far the minute the words left her mouth. Nora stiffened, then whirled around and stalked off.

  Riley went after her. “Nora, stop! Come on, I didn’t mean that.”

  “Why not? It’s probably true.”

  Nora kept going. Riley followed her. “If you’ve got writer’s block, take the day off. The words will come, you’ll see.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “Nothing worth fighting for is easy. Look, it’s a beautiful day. Why don’t you go for a walk and clear your head? You are an amazing teacher and I know it was hard for you to leave your class behind, but I also know I love you too much to let you remain in danger. If writing turns out not to be your thing, you’ll find another way. I know you will.”

  Nora stopped and faced her. After a moment, she nodded. “A walk. That’s a good idea.”

  “Do you want company?” Riley followed her another few paces, glancing back at the cauldron of water.

  “No. I need to be alone to sort this out.”

  “Okay.” Riley let her go on ahead reluctantly. She’d never seen Nora look so defeated. She was afraid of what Nora would do next if she couldn’t come to terms with life at Westfield.

  They needed her, Riley realized. It took all four of them to make the perfect team, and she hoped that Nora knew how much they all loved her and wanted her here. It was so hard to see her once-vivacious friend become so cynical and unhappy. She’d hoped that a slower-paced existence on the ranch would soften Nora’s sharp corners over time. Instead, the past week had whittled them into lethal points.

  When Riley returned to the fire, still wondering what she could have said to make things better, she maneuvered the iron arm that hung the large cauldron over the flames to the side, wrapped rags around her hands, lifted the huge metal pot off and set it on the ground. She used a pitcher to transfer hot water from it into another large pot that was partially filled with cold water until the mix was right. She added biodegradable soap flakes to the water and picked up the first work dress in the pile. It was Savannah’s and despite her care, it had several stains. Riley had researched old-fashioned cleaning methods, but she soon found the job to be hot and strenuous.

  And wet.

  She was glad that she wore one of her work dresses because soon she was soaked. She
scrubbed diligently until she had gotten all the stains she could out of the first dress and dropped it on a towel she’d spread on the ground. She would rinse them all at once. She picked up the second dress, soaked it in the water and got to work on it. Thank God they’d used easy-to-wash modern cottons and Avery and her friends had taken care to pre-shrink the fabric. She doubted some of the finer dresses Jane Austen and her compatriots wore during the Regency could stand up to this treatment.

  By the time she picked out the third work dress she was ready for a break, but her water was cooling and Riley knew she needed to keep going. Avery’s dress had some particularly tough food stains and she knew the aprons would be worse. At least she could add bleach to the water for those. When she lifted a hand out of the water to push back a strand of hair, Riley noticed her knuckles were red. She needed rubber gloves. But Jane wouldn’t have had rubber gloves.

  She wouldn’t have been doing her own laundry, either, Riley reasoned. Gloves it was.

  “That looks like hot work.”

  Riley jumped and looked up to find Boone standing not five feet away.

  “You scared me.”

  “I’m just about to head to the airport to pick up Clay and Jericho.” He cocked his head. “Everything okay?”

  “No. Not really.” She pushed the dress she was cleaning into the water and stood up to ease her back.

  “Your washing machine’s broken?”

  “It’s non-existent. That’s not the trouble, though. It’s Nora. She’s not happy here. I don’t know if she’ll stay.” She shook her head. “I’m going to miss her like crazy if she goes.”

  “She’s ready to pitch in the towel already? You’ve only been here a week.”

  “I know.”

  “Not everyone’s cut out for simple living,” Boone said.

  “It isn’t about simple living.”

  “What’s it about?” He drifted closer, examining her pots of water and the pile of soapy clothes on the towel beside her.

  “Teaching. Nora’s a teacher. Or she was. She misses it.”

  “After a single week?” But Boone didn’t look dismissive. He looked interested. “She must love it.”

  “I guess she does. I don’t think I could last a week at her job.” She explained the circumstances of Nora quitting. “I think she’s good at what she does, though. I think it’s eating her up to know that one bad egg ruined it for everyone.”

  “Sooner or later there’ll be kids here to teach.”

  “I suppose so.” Why did they always stray into such dangerous territory? She knelt down again, plunged her hands into the water, found the dress she’d been washing and got back to work.

  “Meanwhile, maybe she could teach locally. I never heard of a teacher getting a death threat here in Chance Creek.”

  “Maybe. I’ll suggest that to her. But the idea was she’d write while she was here.” She scrubbed a stubborn spot even harder.

  Boone circled around behind her to watch. After a few moments, Riley looked over her shoulder at him. “Do you mind?”

  “There are machines that do this, you know.”

  She rested her arms on the edge of the pot. “I know. We could have hauled all this into town. I didn’t want to bother James.”

  “I mean hand-cranked washing machines.”

  “Would Jane Austen have had one?” she quipped.

  “I think they came a little later in the century. I’m not sure, though. Want me to look it up? We should probably get one for Base Camp.” He whipped a cell phone out of his pocket.

  “No.” Riley got back to work. She wanted him to leave. She was hot and sweaty and her hair was falling out of its bun and she had an overwhelming urge to drop the laundry, hurl herself into his arms and convince him to finally make love to her again.

  Boone jabbed at his phone and she pressed her lips together. “I said no,” she burst out when he didn’t stop.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not my cell phone time.” God, that sounded lame. She got back to work.

  Boone lowered the phone. “You have a specific time for using cell phones?”

  “We wanted to ban technology altogether, but there are some things we can’t do without. We decided we each get a half-hour a day for phone calls and Internet access.” When Boone chuckled her irritation grew. “What?”

  “You guys are more hard core than we are.”

  Was that admiration she heard in his voice? “Don’t you have to get to the airport?”

  He checked his watch. “Yep, I’d better get going. Clay and Jericho will be happy to see you. Even happier to see your friends.”

  She stopped scrubbing. “They’d better steer clear of my friends.”

  Boone backed away. “You hook up with me. Your friends hook up with my friends. Everybody’s happy, right?”

  “You’re sick in the head. Tell Clay and Jericho they’re off limits.”

  “WHERE’S MY WIFE?” Clay asked as they waited at the baggage carousel at the Chance Creek Regional Airport. Boone had just finished detailing the events of the previous week.

  “I’ve picked her out for you. Unfortunately Riley has drawn a pretty deep line in the sand and your future mate is on the other side.”

  “You’ll have to sweet talk her into changing her mind,” Jericho said. “After all, she’ll be promising to obey you within the month, right?”

  “I highly doubt that phrase will be in our marriage vows.”

  “What are her friends like?” Clay asked.

  Boone kept his eyes on the moving belt. “Two of them are candidates. Savannah is musical and loves the life they’re building here. Clay, I think she’ll do for you. Avery is sweet and has aspirations to be an actress. She seems fun-loving and dedicated; I think she’s a match for Jericho.”

  “What about the other one? You said there were three,” Jericho pointed out.

  “Nora?” Boone shook his head. “Sounds like she might fly the coop soon.” He detailed the conversation he’d had with Riley that afternoon.

  “Hand-washing the laundry? That’s hard-core.” Clay lunged suddenly and grabbed a bag. “This one’s mine. There should be another one. Wait… there it is.” He grabbed it, too.

  “That’s what I told Riley. It’s uncanny the way these women have almost reproduced the same rules that we have—and downright aggravating they won’t give up a couple of things that would put them right in line with us. We could join forces right now and just get on with it, but they’re obsessed with these dresses and parties and art and music and…”

  “…all the things that make life worth living?” Clay said.

  Boone frowned. “Don’t you start.”

  “You’ve got to lighten up a little, Boone.” Jericho reached for a bag and picked it up off the carousel.

  “Lighten up? I have to be married within the month. Then we need to hit the ground running when the cameras arrive. We don’t have time to fool around with music and art.”

  “We can’t work all the time.” Jericho dropped his bag on the floor and held up his hands when Boone turned on him. “All I’m saying is that you’ve probably scared Riley off with that attitude. Why not give a little to get a little?”

  “I don’t want to operate on false pretenses.”

  “Hold on. Are you saying there’s no room for fun in our community… ever?” Clay asked.

  “Of course there is, but right now we need to focus, and even though Riley’s agreed to marry me, she’s shown no real interest in Base Camp. I think—” He broke off. “Wait a minute, that’s Nora—right there. The one I said might fly the coop.” He pointed across the terminal to where she was gazing at a monitor that showed arrivals and departures, her light brown hair scooped up into a messy bun. She’d exchanged her Regency gown for a pair of jeans, knee-high leather boots and a cream-colored shirt. Boone could have sworn Riley had said they’d burned all their twenty-first century duds, but Nora must have kept a stash. Maybe she’d never meant to stay.<
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  Boone couldn’t let her leave. “Come on.” He strode across the hall toward her. “Nora? Everything all right?”

  Nora jumped, guilt glinting in her eyes when she took him in. “Boone, what are you doing here? Did Riley send you after me?”

  “No. I’m here to pick up my friends. Clay Pickett, Jericho Cook, this is Nora Ridgeway. Nora’s a teacher. Nora, meet Clay and Jericho. They grew up around here and served with me in the SEALs.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Nora murmured. She sent a furtive glance toward the departures board.

  “You catching a plane somewhere?” Clay set down his bags, shook her hand, and held onto it. Jericho waited for his turn, his hand half raised, but after a moment he let it fall again. Nora didn’t notice.

  “I… think so. You won’t tell Riley you saw me here, will you? I need a head start.” She extricated her hand from Clay’s.

  “Riley said you miss teaching a lot. Are you going back?”

  She nodded. “I have to. I’m not used to being a quitter. I was helping those kids. Some of them, anyway.”

  “Sounds like it was a pretty rough situation, though.” All Boone could think to do was delay Nora. He knew Riley would be devastated if her friend gave up on Westfield, and if Nora left, what would the others do? If Savannah and Avery quit, too, Riley would have no reason to stay on the ranch.

  No reason to marry him, either.

  “It was.” Her indecision was all too clear. Boone wondered if he could capitalize on it, but Clay beat him to the punch.

  “Aren’t you going to miss your friends if you leave?” he asked.

  Nora glanced back up at the monitor, but nodded. “Definitely. I missed them for years when we all lived in different places. No one else I know is quite like Riley and the others. I know they think I hold back a lot—that maybe I’m not as into the group thing as they are, but they’re wrong.”

  “Maybe there’s a compromise,” Clay suggested. “What if you found a teaching job in Chance Creek?”