by Vivi Holt
Dusty and Genevieve gave up their decorum and laughed out loud. “It’s not a complete loss,” chuckled Dusty. “If’n ya can’t bake, maybe ya could take up brickmakin’!”
Jane furrowed her brows and tipped her head back so her nose pointed upward. “Is that so?” She crossed her arms over her chest and turned away from him.
Genevieve stifled her laughter and patted Jane’s arm. But Dusty could see how much he’d offended her, even as he continued chuckling quietly to himself. She must think him rude, laughing at a hostess’s baking, even if it was as palatable as a stone. No doubt she’d hold this against him. But if she did, that would just prove she wasn’t right for him. She was pretty, but it took more than a pretty face to turn his head. If Jane Wilder couldn’t even laugh at her own mistakes, she was way too uppity for his tastes.
***
The ride back to Paradise Ranch was jovial. Genevieve was in high spirits after spending time with her cousin. Dusty sat silently, listening with the occasional grin and nod. But half his thoughts were still on Jane Wilder.
Jane was a city girl – Boston, she’d said. Educated too – certainly more than his meager schooling in Georgia – and prettier than he thought she’d be. But it was obvious she had no interest in him, especially after the currant cake incident. And he was content enough with the single life that he had no need to court her either. Even if he had a mind to wed, he wouldn’t choose a bride like Jane, no sirree. She wouldn’t know her way around a ranch, and she turned her nose up at him – literally – just for having a laugh.
Still, his mind drifted. He pictured Jane twirling around his cottage, her skirts billowing around her, a sunny smile on her pretty face while she burned the pancakes. He grinned to himself, chuckling quietly. Ruined food had never seemed so appealing.
He drew a quick breath and chastised himself for thinking such things. She’d never be interested in a man like him – and he sure didn’t need someone like her in his life.
Genevieve’s voice cut through his imaginings. “What did you think of Jane?”
He cocked an eyebrow, wondering what she was after. “What do ya mean?” He focused on the horses. Womenfolk couldn’t help but want to pry into a man’s feelings.
“You know very well what I mean, Dusty,” pressed Genevieve with a sly smile.
“I dunno.” He glanced at Genevieve, who met his gaze with another grin, then promptly shut her mouth. Soon she was humming a sprightly tune as made their way down the now well-worn wagon trail, bound for home.
Chapter Six
Dusty wiped the sweat from his brow and laid the axe at his feet. He picked up another piece of timber from the pile against the barn wall, set it on top of a tree stump and hefted the axe again. He swung it up, then came down hard, splitting the timber in two, then grunted and retrieved the two halves, adding them to the stack of split firewood in the wagon bed he was loading to take up to the main house.
He heard whistling and stopped to see who it was. Thomas strode coolly around the outside of the barn and smiled. “Mornin’, Dusty. How’s it goin’?”
“Just fine, Tom. Did ya get them last few steers branded?” Dusty set up another log for splitting.
“Yep, sure did. Thanks for ya help with that.” Thomas shifted his hat back a few inches and scratched his hairline before pulling it back into place. “Ya know, I was in Bozeman last week, gettin’ some supplies, and I ran into Rev. Latsch.”
Dusty grunted in response and brought down the axe on a gnarled lump of timber.
“Anyways, he happened to mention the schoolhouse needs some work done. It ain’t really fit to see Miss Wilder and the children through the winter as it is.”
Dusty raised an eyebrow and kept on splitting logs.
“So I told him I’d be happy to send one of my men to fix the place up. I thought that since you’ve met her and all, you’d be the best man for the job.”
Dusty straightened his back and ran his shirt sleeve over his glistening face. “I got plenty of work ‘round here to do. We gotta finish geldin’ the steers, and get that fence fixed over on the eastern boundary. Not to mention the cottage – I’m close to finishin’ it. I think maybe Ost’d be better suited to that kind o’ work than me. He’s the one with the honey tongue.”
Thomas laughed. “Genny told me you might object, but I need ya to do it anyway. It’s only for two weeks – leastways, that’s what I told the Reverend. I know the whole town’ll appreciate it, and Miss Wilder sure will.” He chuckled and headed back toward the barn.
Dusty frowned in frustration. “When’s this all supposed to happen?” he called after Thomas.
“Startin’ tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? How in tarnation was he supposed to be ready to go to town for two weeks by tomorrow? He’d have to pack everything up at the cottage and make sure it was weatherproofed enough to withstand any freak storms. He had a hundred other things he’d planned on getting done. And to spend that much time in Bozeman – with Jane Wilder – was more frustration than any man should have to bear. She’d no doubt be put out by having him constantly under her skirts and in her way. Worse, she’d likely think it was within her rights to order him around.
He grimaced and let fly on the firewood with the axe. He’d have to interrupt her teaching at times to get things done; she wouldn’t like that. And he wanted nothing more than to stay as far away from her as possible. She was pretty and had been friendly enough when they’d met – when she wasn’t getting pushed out of shape by him poking fun – but they’d only had to spend a few minutes in each other’s company.
No, he had no desire to spend any more time in Bozeman than was strictly necessary, and to spend it under orders from a woman – especially a schoolmistress from Boston — would be wholly unbearable. Two whole weeks stuck in town with a hoity-toity schoolmarm? Thomas must be out of his dadgum mind.
***
Jane rolled over in bed, the fresh straw that filled the tick mattress rustling beneath her. She yawned and blinked a few times to clear the sleep from her eyes. It had been a long week, and she was glad for a day off.
Teaching was always draining, but never more so than when starting at a new school. There was so much to learn about the how it operated and each of the students. She liked to have everything planned well in advance, so she’d been working evenings as well. Not that she really had anything else to do or anywhere to be. She’d still managed to avoid building friendships with the townspeople, and they’d left her alone for the most part.
Then there was the matter of the schoolhouse’s disrepair – it seemed the entire building was held together by a few rusty nails and a peeling coat of paint. She could see straight through the gaps between some of the boards, and even in her own rooms the wind gusted through the crevices with an eerie howl.
She yawned wide again, then slid her feet off the edge of the bed and raised her hands high to stretch. She didn’t have much planned for the day and had considered taking a walk in the countryside. She hadn’t had much chance to look around since she arrived and it really was beautiful. She’d heard there was a church picnic scheduled, but the idea of joining a group of strangers who all knew each other wasn’t appealing. She’d be the outsider, the topic of all the conversations — again. That she was teaching many of their children meant she was already a curiosity to them.
No, she’d take today to spend some much needed time on her own, maybe even get some sewing done. She smiled at the thought. Taking a piece of fabric and fashioning it into something gave her a sense of accomplishment and renewed her energy. Right now, that sounded very appealing. Anyway, she needed clothing and linens to set up house, so a walk followed by an afternoon of sewing was the perfect way to spend the day.
A rap at the door startled her. Who would be calling this early on a Saturday morning? She wasn’t even dressed yet. She slipped into her housecoat and slippers. With a quick swipe at her hair in the looking glass, she ran to answer the door just as the visito
r knocked loudly once again.
It was Dusty. What in Heaven’s name was he doing here? “Mr. Lewis!” She almost whispered his name, then cleared her throat with a cough. “What … ahem. Good to see you. What brings you by?”
“Mornin’, Miss Wilder. ’Fraid I’ve called too early.” He tipped his hat, his eyes twinkling as they met hers – he seemed to find humor in the situation.
Self-consciously, she lifted her nose a little higher and tightened the housecoat around her torso. “Yes, you have. How can I help you?” She’d be Mother Francis before she’d let him see he’d rattled her.
“Did the Rev. Latsch speak with ya, yet?” He leaned against the door jamb, crossing one leg casually over the other. He looked to be enjoying himself far too much at her expense, his eyes traveling up and down her body and his mouth turning up at the corners in a smug grin.
She sniffed. “No, he hasn’t.”
“The thing is, he asked me to do some work around the schoolhouse. Seems it’s in need of some repairs, and I’m here to do ‘em.”
Jane’s stomach flipped and her eyes widened in surprise. It was true, the place needed work, but why had they asked Dusty Lewis of all people? “Is that so? Well, that is good news.” She forced herself to smile and stepped back from the door as if readying to close it.
“So I’ll be around for the next couple weeks … if’n ya don’t mind, of course.” He shifted, and she could see him tense as he waited for her response.
“Of course I don’t mind. I’m grateful for the help, to be sure – I was wondering how I’d manage in winter. It’s fine for August to have the breeze rushing through, but come October I’d as soon be without those gaps in the walls and flooring, I can tell you.” She laughed awkwardly and her cheeks warmed as the moment stretched out.
She wished she could close the door. She’d never before received a man while in such a state of undress and it was making her stomach churn with embarrassment. The worst of it was, he seemed to be drawing out the silence for as long as possible, leaning against the door jam and watching her with interest beneath lowered lids. He was having fun, while she was in Hades. “Well, if there’s nothing else …”
“Actually, just wonderin’ if I could have a cup of coffee. If ya got some to spare, that is. I rode all the way here from the ranch and hain’t had nothin’ since ‘fore sunrise.”
“I … of course, Mr. Lewis. If you’ll just give me a few moments to dress, I’ll bring you a cup as soon as the pot boils.” She smiled and closed the door quickly as he tipped his hat once more.
She could hear him chuckling all the way down the steps and across the yard to the tool shed that backed up against the edge of the woods. Her cheeks burned and she stamped a foot in consternation. He really was the most impolite cad, to keep her at the door for so long, knowing full well how uncomfortable it made her feel.
Jane hurried to wash at the basin by her bed, then dressed in a sprigged green muslin dress and black boots. She fixed her hair into a bun with shining loops caught up on each side of her face. As she placed the last pin, she heard banging overhead and looked up in surprise. Was he starting with the roof already? It made sense, she supposed, given that the drizzle they’d had a few days earlier had sent her running for buckets to put beneath the drips across the entire floor.
She went to fix the coffee, but found the water jug empty. She sighed and strode out to the water pump to fill it, then hauled it back. She glanced up and saw Dusty balancing precariously on the sloping roof. He stopped to give her a cursory wave, and she smiled back at him. He might be a ruffian, but he certainly looked fine up there, with his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned, muscular arms.
With a smile, she closed the door with her hip and lugged the water jug over to the table to fill the coffee pot. Before long, the delicious aroma of coffee filled the room and wafted out the open window, bringing Dusty to her door once again. She’d also cooked pancakes – at least she could manage those – and served them onto two plates with butter and preserves. “Here you go,” she said, raising an eyebrow as if daring him to refuse to eat.
He smiled as he picked up the mug and plate. “Thank ya.” He grabbed one of her rickety kitchen chairs and looped it over his arm to carry outside. “I’ll eat out here, if’n that’s all right.”
“Fine.” She stood aside as he passed, but the doorway wasn’t wide enough, so he had to turn sideways to fit through. As he did, his bare arm brushed against hers and a tingle passed through her body, setting her heart racing. He seemed to feel it too, giving her a look of surprise before hurrying out the door and into the yard.
Jane closed the door behind him and leaned against it with a quick intake of breath. What was that? It was like a spark from a flint – she’d never felt anything like it before apart from the first time they’d met. The fact that it had happened again made her head spin. Her entire body trembled, from one soft touch. She slumped down in a chair and poured herself a cup of coffee. The first sip singed her tongue and she cried out in pain, then shook her head.
Just because she found Dusty attractive, didn’t mean anything at. She’d been attracted to men before — one in particular back in Missoula had made her pulse race as well. Granted, Robert had never made her entire body tingle just by brushing his arm against hers, still she’d loved him – or at least thought she had. But when Mr. Figway found out about her parents and shared his discovery with the rest of the town, Robert had given her up – on the eve of their wedding, no less. Just like that. No explanation, no apology.
It wouldn’t do for her to let herself get close to anyone, not with her family history. If she let Dusty in, let him make her feel things for him, then one day he’d find out the truth and he’d break her heart into pieces just as Robert had. Just as everyone she’d ever cared about had, apart from Aunt Priscilla and now Genevieve. They were the only people in the entire world who cared about her, even though they knew everything about her.
Oh dear – what if Genevieve told Dusty? Her heart skipped a beat and she tapped her foot on the floor as she carefully sipped the coffee. She hoped Genevieve would keep it to herself. But for that matter, why should it bother her if she didn’t? Dusty wasn’t her fiancé, so if he walked away it would make no difference to her. After all, he didn’t care for her, nor her for him, and she had no intention of letting him take that place in her life.
Chapter Seven
Dusty walked back toward the schoolhouse, whistling and enjoying the feel of the sun on his head and the breeze blowing through the valley, setting the trees to whispering. He had a bag full of new slate shingles, the latest development in roofing, and he’d been impressed with how easy they were to attach to the gaps where the existing wood shingles had rotted away. He’d nailed dozens to the roof already over the past few days and was happy with the progress he was making.
The roof was almost complete. Next, he’d work on chinking the gaps in the walls, which would take a few days. After that there was the painting, and cutting firewood, sweeping out the chimney and fixing some of the children’s desks. It would easily take the two full weeks allotted.
Dusty frowned at the realization. The cot at the Langstons’ parsonage was comfortable enough, but he yearned to get back to the countryside. He hoped he could to finish up early and head back to the ranch to complete his own cottage. He was anxious to see it finished and move in.
It wasn’t that he was unhappy in the bunkhouse – he’d miss the easy camaraderie – but something deep inside was pushing him to find his own space, a place just his own and no one else’s where he could unwind. No doubt he’d still spend time in the bunkhouse, but as soon as he finished the cottage he’d have somewhere to retreat to – a home.
An image sprung to mind of Jane, her shining blonde hair swept up with loose curls framing her face. Her blue eyes sparkled as she smiled at him, and his pulse quickened. They’d shared a moment the other day when he’d brushed past her. Something had happened between t
hem, and he was sure she’d sensed it too. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since, and it took everything he had to stay away.
Every morning when she called the children into class, his heart would sink, knowing it would be hours until he caught a glimpse of her again. Then he’d chastise himself for being a spineless sap and focus on fixing the roof until lunch time, when the children came out to play and he’d climb down the ladder to wait outside her door for a plate of food. His heart would race and his palms grow damp while he stood there, shuffling his feet in place, unable to stand still.
He reached the schoolhouse just as the children came pouring out the front door and down the steps, their lunch pails swinging in their hands as they ran. He laughed, ruffling their hair, patting heads and calling out greetings as they passed. They each grinned back at him and asked him how the roof was going and what he’d bought, where he’d been and what he planned to do next. They never seemed to run out of questions – that was one thing he’d learned about them already. He’d gotten to know each one over the past few days and he was surprised at how fond of them he’d grown in such a short time.
He set the bag of shingles down by the back door just as it swung open and Jane appeared, looking out at him with a shy smile. Her smile always seemed a little sad, like she was hiding something deep inside, and it tugged at his heart. He tipped his hat.
“Lunch time.” She held out a plate of bread, cheese and beans.
“Thank ya, ma’am. I’m mighty hungry.”
