Under the Summer Sky

by Lori Copeland

  Her eyes focused on his hands. He passed her the bar of soap and continued. “I was swimming before I cut most of my teeth.” He remembered the warm summer days when his pa had taken him to the river and they’d played on a rope swing overhanging the water. Some of the best memories he had.

  She worked up a lather, focusing on her task. “Sounds like you had a nice childhood.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “My ma and pa set off for town one day and never came back. Rob was fourteen that year and I was five. They were gone for days. Rob said something must have delayed them and I shouldn’t worry. We didn’t have much in the way of supplies—that’s why Ma and Pa went to town. After a few weeks a passerby told Rob that a woman’s body had washed up downstream. No man, no buggy, no horse—just a woman about Ma’s age. Rob said the rains had been heavy that year.” Shrugging, she rinsed her hands. “We never knew for certain what happened.”

  “Your brother raised you?”

  “We lived on a small piece of land—not too close to any settlement. Rob figured we were making it well enough on our own. By the time I was eight I could cook as well as he did. We planted a garden every year, and I canned our food for the winter. Rob hunted and trapped and sometimes he sold the pelts to traveling peddlers.”

  Jones listened with growing admiration. The woman wasn’t all fluff. “No family member came to check on you?”

  “There were only the two aunts, Pauline and Priss. But we didn’t know how to reach them. Rob couldn’t figure out where to send a letter, and I couldn’t either. But what about you?”

  “Me?” He shook his head. “My ma died shortly after I was born. Pa remarried later, and his new wife didn’t take to a stepson. It wasn’t long before I decided I could make it on my own. I left the cabin when I was fourteen and lived with a bunch of drifters for a while. I was sixteen when I hired on with the railroad.”

  “Then you worked with Tom?”

  “Yes. He was hired a few years before me.” He handed her a cloth to dry her hands. “So you never knew what happened to your parents?”

  “No. After a while we just stopped looking out the window. They weren’t coming back.” Her eyes darkened. “Rob said it didn’t matter. Pa had a temper, and Rob said he wasn’t afraid to use the whip on either one of us. I was too young to remember, but I can recall him locking me in the cellar when I misbehaved. It was dark and cold—and there were spiders.” She shuddered. “I could hear the water dripping and Pa said that if I wasn’t good the cellar would fill up with water and…” She stopped.

  “That explains your fear of water and tight places.”

  “For a while Rob wouldn’t allow me in the cellar, but then we had to store canned goods. He’d fetch anything I needed, but there were times he wasn’t around and I had to go down there alone.” She shook the thought away.

  “Well, don’t feel bad. We all have our dislikes and peculiarities. I don’t like the sight of blood.”

  She caught back a snicker.

  “I know—it’s not a manly trait, but I get all lightheaded when I see it. I try to avoid the sight as much as possible.”

  She smiled. “Did you mention dinner?”

  “I’ve got cold biscuits and ham waiting for me.”

  She stood. “I’ll get the canteens and get some fresh water.”

  His gaze followed the petite form. She was quite a woman. Her story explained a lot—her fear of water, her fear of dark places. He made a mental note to steer her clear of the things she dreaded.

  Trinity returned from the spring and they opened their sacks. She glanced up when she discovered the contents of the brown paper-wrapped bundle. “Cold biscuits and ham.”

  They looked at each other and burst into laughter.

  “It appears we have the same cook,” said Jones.

  A twinge of dread filled his empty stomach. That wasn’t all they had in common. Jones, don’t go falling for a woman with blue eyes and a tragic past. You’ve steered clear this long. Don’t let your guard down now.

  The last thing he wanted to do was hook up with a woman; she might turn out like his stepmother.

  The mares’ hooves ate up the miles that afternoon. Clouds overhead at least made the building heat bearable. The cold biscuits and ham sat hard in his stomach. Jones’s thoughts were on supper, and his plans to roast a fresh rabbit over a spit. No sooner had he thought of it than the unthinkable occurred. Looking back when he heard a scream, he saw Trinity’s mare plunging headlong to the ground, pitching her rider into the air. Trinity slammed down onto the path.

  Jones swung Sue around and galloped back, springing from the saddle before the animal had stopped.

  Trinity’s hand was gripping her side. Gently rolling her to her back, he searched for broken bones. “It looks like you’ve hurt the same arm.” When he was certain she had no major injury he gently sat her up.

  The mare’s sides were heaving from the pain, and her whinnies shot straight to his heart. He’d always had a soft spot when it came to animals.

  “Is my arm broken now?”

  He tested it, frowning. “I don’t think so. You’ve aggravated it more, but I’ll rewrap it for you once I put the mare out of her pain.”

  Her eyes brightened with unshed tears. “Is that necessary?”

  “Believe me when I say I would avoid it if I could.” He braced himself, then rose and moved to squat beside the animal. One eye gazed up at him, glazed with agony. He stroked her head, speaking softly. “It’s okay, girl.”

  She snorted, her eyes wild with pain.

  Trinity stood and approached, her gaze fixed on the scene. “Must you put her down? She doesn’t belong to me, and maybe we can find someone to help her when we reach Piedmont.”

  “She belongs to the good Lord now.” Jones gently touched the damaged fetlock. Trinity could see the exposed bone. She turned away.

  Taking her by the arm, Jones led her to the side of the road and sat her down before he examined her injury more closely. “It’s starting to swell. You may have a break after all. Does it hurt?”

  “It’s throbbing like the dickens.”

  “I have bandages in my saddlebag.” His gaze met hers. They could both hear the panicked whinnies filling the air. “Will you be all right here for a few minutes?”

  Anxiety filled her flushed features. “I don’t want to see this.”

  “Then you won’t.” Scooping her into his arms, he carried her up an overgrown trail, deep into the woods. She’d hear the shot—there’d be no escaping that—but the timber would mute the sound. Lord knew he didn’t relish what he was about to do.

  “I’m sorry, Jones.” Her words spoke more than empathy. She felt his reluctance.

  He straightened and removed his hat, running a sleeve over his forehead. “No matter how many times I’m forced to do it, it never gets easier.”

  “Rob had to put our old plow horse down. Ed—he was like family. I’ll help…if you need me.”

  “You don’t want to see this.”

  “Neither do you.” She met his eyes.

  “I’ll handle it. Now stay here.” He turned on his heel and walked off, the tight knot in his throat threatening to do him in.

  The sun was dipping low in the west as Jones changed Trinity’s arm bandage. A sizzling rabbit slowly turned a golden brown over the open fire. Getting the mare’s carcass off the road hadn’t proved easy, but Sue had managed the load. Trinity had appeared minutes after the shot.

  “Go back. You can’t do anything.”

  “I can keep you company.” She hadn’t shirked the unpleasantness, and she worked beside him to clear the road just like a man.

  Losing an animal meant they were now down to one horse. Jones had helped her into his saddle, thrown the dead mare’s saddle over his shoulder, and walked. His gaze swept the ugly site they had just left. Blood. Carcass.

  “I’d just as soon camp elsewhere tonight,” he said.

  She hadn’t given him any troubl
e on that suggestion.

  Wrapping the arm snugly, he sat back on his heels. “I don’t have anything for pain, unless you want a shot of gin. I carry a bottle for incidents like this.”

  “That isn’t necessary.” Her eyes roamed the camp. “I would love a bath.”

  “There’s a river nearby. Want me to walk you there?”

  “I can manage.” She struggled to her feet as his hand supported her. “May I use the soap?”

  He walked to his mare and dug around in the saddlebag. “What about clean clothing? You have blood on your shirt and trousers.” So did he—a reminder he’d wash off as soon as she returned.

  “I’ll wash off in the river.” She offered a grateful smile as he handed her the bar of soap. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  Crossing his arms, he grinned. “You don’t need my help? Where’s your fear of water?”

  “In the proper place, where yours obviously isn’t.” A grin escaped her. “I have no fear of a good scrubbing.”

  “I’m happy to help.”

  She offered him a look he couldn’t decipher—and didn’t care to at the moment.

  The water was shallow and Trinity waded in up to her waist, then stripped down and scrubbed her clothing, hair, and body. The stench of death gradually washed away, and when she returned to camp she smelled pretty again.

  The spit was empty, her portion of the rabbit lying on a tin plate. Her gaze swept the small camp and she smiled when she spotted Jones. He had spread his bedroll in the nearby pasture. Stars twinkled overhead, a few bright ones seeming to outshine the rest.

  Carrying her plate to the pasture, she went to sit beside him. He had proven himself to be a good man. A decent, compassionate person. He had handled the mare with calm and care. Easing down beside him she picked at the meat, savoring the light breeze that lifted and dried her hair. The slight wind felt good on her sunburned skin. She ate quietly, gazing out at the night’s splendor.

  “Ever seen anything prettier than a summer sky?” Jones asked in his soft baritone.

  “I haven’t,” she admitted. The heavens outdid themselves tonight. She thought that if she could reach high enough she could pluck out one of the twinkling lights and put it in her pocket. “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Then God said, ‘Let there be light’; and there was light,” she murmured. On the long winter evenings Rob had always read to her from the family Bible, and she loved recalling his voice reading those passages.

  Jones rolled to sit up, his gaze focused on her now. “The night is almost as pretty as you, Miss Franklin.”

  Heat crept up her neck. “I prefer fall, when the leaves turn golden and the air is crisp and the moon is round as a dinner plate—but I admit it would be difficult to create a night more spectacular than this.”

  “Our Creator has quite the touch.” His gaze swept the twinkling brilliance.

  “It’s nice to hear you believe in God.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Have for a long time.” He was silent for a moment, watching the sky. “Name me one other Being that could do this.”

  The sky stretched limitlessly across the horizon, more lovely than a rare jewel.

  Trinity sighed. “Penny for your thoughts.”

  He chuckled. “I thought you’d be too tuckered out for conversation.”

  “I am, but this—how often does one get to observe such beauty?”

  “Not often.” His eyes trailed over her, and the intensity in his gaze made her blush. She was glad it was too dark for him to see. She hoped he didn’t think she had invited a personal—almost intimate—observation. She’d only meant…

  He put his hands back behind his head and sang softly.

  Lift up your head, find a smile, and search for the rainbows.

  “That was very nice,” she said. “You have a lovely voice.”

  She drew her knees to her chest and rested her chin, her eyes shifting to the mare pastured nearby. The grass was dry but plentiful. “And you have a lovely animal.”

  “Sue?” Leaning back on his elbows, his eyes followed her focus. “She’s my lady.”

  “Had her long?”

  “Since she was a yearling.” Lying back on his pallet, he smiled. “Bought her with my first paycheck and we haven’t spent a day apart since.”

  “I wondered why you spent so much time in the saddle. You could ride the train anywhere you like.”

  “I could, but I love the outdoors, and I don’t work by a train’s schedule. So I ride. She’s good company.”

  “She sounds like she’s found a very loyal owner.”

  “She’ll be with me as long as the good Lord keeps her here on earth.” He ran a hand through a mass of dark hair. “Strange how you can get so attached to an animal.”

  “Sue sounds more like family than an animal.”

  “She is.”

  “And your real family—are they still living?”

  “I couldn’t say.”

  Trinity straightened. His tone had turned cold. She had struck a nerve. She nibbled on the rabbit.

  “What about you?”

  She started, surprised that he wanted to continue the conversation. “I have no family—none but my aunt.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No need. The Franklins were never close.” She sighed. “You know how you meet people who have brothers and sisters and cousins and they’re all close? Lovingly joined at the hip? My family was never like that. It was just me and Rob, fighting to survive.” She turned to look at him. “But we don’t have to talk about our pasts.”

  Yet after a moment he did, his throat tight with emotion—perhaps resentment. “The Good Book says to honor your mother and your father, but sometimes it’s mighty hard.”

  “That’s true. There are…varying circumstances in every family.”

  The silence stretched. She ate her meal, sensing that if he needed to say more he would. She needed to hear more.

  The thought took her by surprise. They’d had their differences, but the man appeared goodhearted and solid—the sort of man a hovering mama would be delighted to welcome into the family. She studied him out of the corner of her eye. How had he escaped matrimony all these years?

  “I had another horse I cared about. Jeannie.”

  “You appear to favor mares.”

  “I didn’t name her. Pa gave her to me when he found her alongside the road, limping. He wrapped the ankle and when she healed he said she was mine. Her name was Jeannie. She was ornery and had a will of her own, but she was mine and I loved her.”

  She set her plate aside. Something in his tone suggested he would continue, given sufficient time to swallow the knot crowding his throat.

  “My stepmother resented that horse about as much as she resented me.” His chuckle was as mirthless as the bombshell that followed. “She gave her away to a stranger while I was putting up hay in the field. Swore she was eating us out of house and home.”

  Trinity reached over and took his hand. His grip tightened in hers.

  There was a light bouncing across the prairie, coming straight at them. Trinity lifted her head and peered closer. “What is it?”

  There was an earsplitting recoil followed by a shower of light. Jones jumped to his feet, scrambling for his holster.

  “Marauders?” Trinity sprang up, cowering against his tall frame.

  “It sounds like”—Jones grunted—“It’s Lil. On that blasted machine.”

  “Lil?” Trinity stepped around him to peer more closely at the approaching light. Another backfire convinced her. “What’s she doing here?”

  Lil skidded to a stop and killed the engine, her smile radiant even in the dim light. “Good! I was hoping it would be you two!”

  “What in the world are you doing here this time of night?” Trinity planted her hands firmly on her hips as she spoke. Jones didn’t look all that pleased to see her either.

  “Sorry to interrupt your trip, but you gotta come back, Trinity.”

 
; “Go back?” Visions of the long day on the trail washed across her mind. “Why must I go back?”

  “It’s Pauline. She collapsed in the post office late this morning. They can’t get her to wake up.”

  Bile rose to Trinity’s throat. “Is she…”

  “Not yet—at least, she weren’t when I left—but the doc thinks it could be close. He sent me to get you. Benjamin’s with her, and he says you’d better hurry.”

  Trinity felt the touch of Jones’s hand on her elbow. “I’ll saddle the horse,” he said.

  “Yes. Thank you.” Stunned, she was turning to follow him when Lil’s voice broke her concentration.

  “You won’t make it back in time if you ride that horse—especially double. Climb aboard. I’ll have you there in a few hours.”

  Trinity stared at the noisy contraption Lil was straddling. Her pulse thudded in her chest. She could be killed on that thing—and not be there when Pauline drew her last breath.

  “I’ll get you there.” Lil’s upturned lip suggested she resented Trinity’s obvious reluctance.

  “I…”

  “She’s right,” said Jones. “You ride with Lil and I’ll follow after.”

  Lil gave the throttle a couple of hefty twists and the monster roared to life.

  Numb, Trinity allowed Jones to lead her to certain doom. “What if I don’t get there in time?” she asked. Not only would she lose a lovely old aunt she had just found, but Pauline would take the deed’s location to the grave.

  “Worry about one thing at a time.” Jones helped her onto the machine and she wrapped her arms around Lil’s waist. “Hold on tight. Lil, drive safe,” Jones warned. “I want her there in one piece.”

  Lil arched an eyebrow. “She’ll get there. You questionin’ my ridin’ abilities?”

  “Right now I’m questioning my sanity. You get her there safe, understood?”

  “I ain’t deaf!” She popped the clutch and the machine shot forward.

  …to certain, agonizing death, Trinity was absolutely convinced.

  Fifteen

  Lil, slow this thing down! You’re going to kill us!”