by Lucy Evanson
~ ~ ~
Sam opened the journal on the table and pulled the lamp a bit closer, letting the light spill over the handwritten pages. Not that he really needed to read what was written there; he knew it all by heart, but he found that taking the time every day to study the plan helped keep him focused on the larger task at hand. It was often difficult to find time for himself given his duties on the farm, but so far things were going well. Very well, actually. He had reached his first goal—purchasing the cow—four months ahead of time, thanks to a loan from Bill Taylor.
The thought of Bill, now resting beneath a grave marker up at the top of the hill, made Sam’s brow furrow unconsciously as he reviewed his journal. He had been a good boss and a good man, and although Sam had only just met his brother Thomas earlier in the day, he had high hopes that the brothers were similar men. So far it seemed that way. When he’d gone to meet the new boss earlier, he’d had an envelope stuffed full of money, ready to repay the loan Bill had made him. Thomas had refused to take it.
“You borrowed no money from me,” he had said. “My brother always spoke very highly of you in his letters, so as far as I’m concerned, you can consider that a gift.”
That had been the second nice surprise of the day. The first had happened even earlier, when a beautiful young girl wrapped only in a bed sheet had burst into the dining room, apparently afraid that Sam was about to attack her family members or some other such foolishness. Sam chuckled as he remembered how she’d looked, standing there with her hair radiating out in all directions, her cheeks blazing red and her toes sticking out from under the sheet. She’d made quite an entrance, he thought. Still, in spite of the few brief moments that he’d seen her, she had latched onto his mind like a burr on a saddle blanket. Her eyes, so deeply brown, had pierced him like knives the moment he saw her, and the hair tumbling down over her shoulders had had a similar effect. The cascade of dark locks had been quite beautiful; most of the women he saw had their hair so severely restrained that it almost seemed like punishment. But Kate, whether by choice or not, had shown him another side, a side he’d never seen in a woman before.
She might have overreacted a bit, Sam thought, but I can’t fault her reason. She’d abandoned all propriety—not to mention all her clothing—so she could warn her family about a threat. No harm in that. It was actually touching, now that he thought about it. More than that. She’d been brave. She’d been fearless. As she’d burst into the dining room, her cheeks flushed and a pink glow covering the delicate skin of her neck and dropping below her collarbone, she’d been… passionate.
Sam shook his head to clear his thoughts and tried to turn his attention back to the pages before him. No call to think of her in that way. Nor in any way in particular. If there was one thing he’d learned from the men in town, it was that chasing after the boss’s daughter was rarely a good idea. He glanced down at the figures on the page. He was over halfway though year one of his five-year plan and ahead of schedule. He quickly scanned the goals for the upcoming months and years as if he could have forgotten them. Nope. No women mentioned at all.
He closed the book and turned out the lamp. In the darkness, he made his way across the room to the door and stepped outside. The night was pleasantly cool, and as he sat down on the fat tree stump next to the door and leaned back against the cabin wall, a shred of cloud floated across the moon, lighting up like a gauzy flame. Down the hill he could see a glow in one of the upstairs rooms. Wonder if that’s Kate’s room. He stared at the window, hoping to see some shadows moving, to see some hint of who was inside, but the glow was calmly undisturbed by his attention.
Sam yawned and let his eyes close for a bit. He was tempted to stay outside and enjoy the evening, but he knew from experience that he’d only wake up in an hour or so with a crick neck and a hundred mosquito bites. Time to go to bed. He opened his eyes and was surprised to see a figure silhouetted in the upstairs window at the house, as if somebody were looking out into the night. Could be her. Could be anybody. He stood and reentered the cabin, laying his clothes over the back of the chair and getting into bed. The day’s labor had tired him, and he felt himself slipping into sleep before he’d even had time to organize his thoughts. The last thought he had was one he wouldn’t even remember come morning. No room in the plan for women. But plans can change.
