by Merry Farmer
“I see.” Her voice wavered.
“In fact….”
He couldn’t think of anything else to say, so he dipped closer to her and captured her mouth with his. He kissed her with a deep, tender passion—insistent without demanding. His heart wanted nothing more than to revel in the taste of her, in the warmth of her body pressed against his. There was no need to rush or press, only to love.
She opened to him, lifting a hand to cradle his rough jaw as her tongue teased against his. She was sweetness and light itself, seeking for what she wanted and enjoying it. He would never get enough of kissing her, of loving her. His heart had found its home.
She broke their kiss with a swift intake of breath, and stood.
“I’m sorry,” she said, pressing her fingertips to her reddened lips. “I can’t keep doing that. It’s not right.”
Jarvis stood, stepping closer to her. “It’s right,” he assured her.
“No.” She shook her head and edged closer to the door. “It’s not. Harry is barely cold in his grave.” She choked on the last word.
Jarvis’s heart squeezed. “It’s been almost a year.”
“That’s hardly anything.” In the lamplight, her eyes were glassy with tears. “I owe him more than falling into the arms of the next man who comes along.”
“If it were me, I would want you to be happy,” Jarvis said, as soft and tender as he could. Every part of him wanted to wrap Alice in a hug and soothe all of her troubles away, but the timing wasn’t right. “Wherever he is, I’m sure he knows you loved him very much.”
“I did,” she said, then repeated, “I did,” as though convincing herself.
“No one’s saying you didn’t.”
She glanced up at him, tears finally escaping her eyes. For a moment, she swayed toward him, then she stopped herself and pulled back.
“We need to focus on Howard and Ginny, on bringing them back together and solving this dispute.”
“We do,” he agreed. There was no sense in rushing things.
“Once we’ve settled that, we’ll go home and….” She didn’t finish her sentence. Her eyes lowered.
“And we’ll deal with that when it gets here,” he finished for her.
“Right,” she said without looking at him. “Let’s concentrate on that for now.”
At last, she dragged her gaze up to meet his. He did the only thing he could do. He smiled and nodded.
Alice broke into a weak, grateful smile, then turned and rushed out of the shed.
Jarvis stayed behind to put out the lantern and make sure it was safe. He would do anything to help Alice climb out of her pit of grief, but the smarter part of him knew she would have to do the climbing herself. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t throw her a rope.
The unsettled feeling Jarvis’s kiss had provoked in Alice’s heart stayed with her all the way through the next day of preparations, through another night, and into the morning that the competition was set to begin. Her lips remembered the way Jarvis’s felt on hers at the most inconvenient times—when she was helping Hattie cook for Howard’s men, when she was sorting through the various tools that they would need for the competition, when she was practicing riding astride with Franklin’s help. No matter what she tried to do to take her mind off of things, her lips and her heart kept coming back to Jarvis.
She lay awake half of the night before the competition, hoping he would sneak over and throw rocks through her window again. Part of her wanted to argue with him to leave her alone, that it was too soon and his suit was too hopeless. A whole other part of her wanted to beg forgiveness for being so lost and stubborn and to ask him to hold her forever.
By the time morning dawned over the ranch on the day of the competition, Alice was tired and restless. She couldn’t read her own soul. The only thing she could do was load up a wagon with food and drink for the men who would build the fences and drive it out to the span of land around the stream.
The field where Howard’s and Ginny’s properties bordered with their neighbor, Carl Brannon, looked like the scene of a county fair when Alice and Hattie arrived. It was a pretty stretch of land, wide, rolling fields with summer wildflowers baking in the sun. A sturdy fence marked off Brannon’s property, save for the twenty foot gap where the stream meandered across the line and onto his farm.
“Most folks out here don’t have fences at all,” Brannon was in the middle of telling Jarvis. “Truth be told, I only put this one up last year when Howard and Ginny started going at it to stop my land from being caught up in the fight.” He laughed as he told the story, which stopped Alice from piling another worry on top of the ones she already carried around with her.
Jarvis laughed along with Mr. Brannon. The sight of him smiling and ready, the sleeves of his work shirt already rolled up and his hair tucked into a nice ponytail at the back of his neck under the broad hat he wore, tickled at her heart and lower. He was breathtakingly handsome. His face was so strong and noble. And who would have ever thought she would find a man with hair almost as long as hers so attractive?
“Let’s get this competition started,” Howard boomed as he strode up to Jarvis and Mr. Brannon. “I’m ready to do some cheering.”
“You aren’t joining the workers, you old slob?” Ginny ribbed him as she broke away from her men to join the group. Her insult had no teeth, and she smiled as if she’d won a blue ribbon.
“Wouldn’t be fair,” Howard said, patting his stomach. “It would give my side an unfair advantage.”
Ginny snorted her opinion of that, but kept any other comments to herself.
“Alice,” Howard called to her when he saw her setting up the food for when the workers got hungry. “Come over here and meet Carl Brannon and his sons, our fine judges.”
Alice dragged her wandering eyes away from Jarvis, nodded to Hattie, brushed her hands on the bright green skirt of one of Lucy’s dresses, and headed toward the group. She could feel Jarvis’s admiring glance as she came close, and could imagine what he was thinking. Probably that she looked good in something other than black. It was just her luck that she felt much better in something other than black too.
“Alice Porter, this is Carl Brannon,” Howard introduced her.
Franklin, who was keeping close to his father’s side, rushed on with, “She’s staying with us, our special guest from New York City.”
“How do you do, ma’am.” Carl was an older man, close to Howard’s age. He reached for Alice’s hand, charming and friendly, but without the smoothness of someone who had lived in a city back East. Alice rather liked it.
“Mr. Brannon,” she nodded, all smiles.
“These are my sons, Deno and Jared.”
Two men who looked to be a few years older than Jarvis came forward to shake her hand like their father had. They too were rough but welcoming, perhaps a little too welcoming for Franklin’s liking. He looked as if he was ready to box either man if they held her hand too long.
“The Brannons are here to make sure everything’s done above board,” Ginny said.
“Right you are, Mrs. Piedmont.” Mr. Brannon tipped his hat to her. There was another reason to like the man. He treated both Howard and Ginny with respect and didn’t play favorites. Alice relaxed a little. This competition might work out after all.
“Let’s get going,” Howard boomed once more, rubbing his hands together. “I’m in the mood for giving a certain someone a thrashing.”
“Oh are you?” Ginny plunked her fists on her hips and stared him down.
Mr. Brannon laughed. “All right,” he said. “Here are the rules as I’ve been told. Both sides will build a simple, zigzag, split-rail fence with supports at the junctures. Five rails high, each rail no longer than ten feet. You’ll start here at my property line and continue along the stream, each building ten yards back from the bank, until you get to Dennison’s property on the other side. That sound about right?”
“Yes.” Ginny nodded.
“It sure d
oes,” Howard agreed.
“You’re working in teams of six,” Mr. Brannon went on. “No substitutions during the day. We stop for lunch at noon, and call it quits for the day at six. Supplies can be carted in at any point during the day, but only by men who are part of the crew of six.”
“Understood,” Howard nodded.
“Right.” Ginny did as well.
“Are your teams ready?”
Murmurs of assent rose up from the men gathered around the starting line. Alice was surprised when Jarvis nodded and joined in with five of Ginny’s other workers.
“You’re going to be building the fence?” she asked.
“He’s my team foreman,” Ginny announced with pride.
Surprise and delight warred with worry in Alice’s chest. “Isn’t that taking sides?”
Jarvis shrugged, his ever-present, good-natured smile still in place. “I was asked. How could I say no?”
“Well, I suppose.” She told herself she shouldn’t be upset that Jarvis was participating, even if it was for the wrong side.
Then again, she told herself as she let out a breath and lowered her shoulders, there wasn’t really a right or wrong side in this fight.
She turned to Franklin, who hung back, his arms crossed.
“Are you participating?” she asked.
He blinked at her, color rising to his face. “Who, me?” He snorted a laugh. “No, no. I’m not a laborer. Although I’m ready with a few tips and pointers if the boys need them.”
It was all Alice could do not to let her amusement show.
“Jake,” Howard called to one of the men who stood a few inches taller than the others in his group. “You think you can out-captain our guest here?”
The tall, brawny man made a show of looking Jarvis up and down, then said, “Yes, sir, I believe I can.”
Judging by the thickness of his arms, Alice thought he just might be able to as well.
“If everyone’s ready, then. Ginny, could I borrow your revolver?” Mr. Brannon asked.
“It would be my pleasure,” Ginny replied, handing her shiny gun over.
Mr. Brannon took it with a teasing grin. “To your marks, gentlemen.”
What happened next was ridiculous enough to make Alice laugh. The two teams of workers glared at each other—for show as much as anything—then crossed past each other, climbing over the narrow stream and into the territory of the other side. Ginny’s crew gathered around a pile of rails that had been unloaded on Howard’s side of the stream, and Howard’s team clustered over a pile on Ginny’s side, even though each of their supply wagons was parked yards away from them on the opposite side of the stream.
“Well,” Mr. Brannon said when he saw Alice’s confused expression. “They’re each trying to take a bite out of each other’s land with these fences, so until one or the other is finished, I guess all this territory and the stream belongs to no one. But they can’t rightly drive their wagons back and forth across the stream all day to fetch supplies, can they?”
“I suppose not,” Alice said. She was glad that she and Hattie didn’t have to worry about sides. Their wagon of refreshments would follow along in the middle of the disputed territory, feeding and watering both teams.
“You ready, Jake?” Howard shouted to his foreman.
“Yes, Mr. Haskell.”
“And you, Jarvis?” Ginny imitated her brother. “You ready to win this?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jarvis laughed.
Even Alice felt her spirits soar and butterflies line up in her stomach. Ill-advised or not, a competition was always great fun.
“On your mark,” Mr. Brannon said, raising Ginny’s revolver above his head, “Get set….”
He fired.
Both sides leapt into action.
Chapter Twelve
It had been years since Jarvis last built a fence. He’d helped his father’s men construct one between the vineyard and a field that his father had sold for a huge profit in ’58, but that fence was carefully planned and used the finest materials. The fence he raced to build for Ginny was crude, rickety, and gave him splinters every fifteen minutes, but he’d never had more fun doing such hard work.
He had his suspicions that they’d chosen the zigzag, split-rail design because it worked well over uneven and rocky land. But it was also fast, simple to throw together, and didn’t require any nails or hardware. He also figured that when everyone involved came to their senses, the foolish fences would make excellent firewood.
As the afternoon sun beat down, he and the rest of the men who had been sucked into the competition threw down rails, building up the zigzags on either side of the stream.
“Put your backs into it, men,” Franklin shouted at Howard’s crew. He’d found a crate to stand on, and overlooked their work from a safe distance. “They’re getting ahead of us. Can’t you work faster?”
Far from being motivational, Franklin’s carrying on caused grumbles amongst Howard’s men. They frowned—glared in some cases—faces red, eyes darting to Franklin now and then as they heaved rails across the stream from Howard’s supply wagon to their fence. The man who actually was in charge of the team, Jake Masters, kept shooting Franklin looks that could kill, then calmly instructing his men where to put the next section of fence.
“Come on,” Franklin whined. “You can do better than that. You aren’t worth the price we pay you at that rate.”
“He’s not making any friends.”
Alice’s low voice shook Jarvis out of the rhythm he’d established for laying down fence rails. He stood straight and turned to find her a few feet away with the water bucket, offering the dipper to Ginny’s men.
He smiled. “He may not be, but you certainly are.”
He nodded to one of the men to take over the section of fence he was working on, then stepped over to Alice to get a drink. It was comforting to see her helping everyone and not playing favorites. Then again, if she wanted to make him her favorite….
“I’m here to help Hattie,” she explained with a teasing grin, “not to make friends. We agreed that we’d keep all of the men from drying out or getting too hungry.”
“And every man here will sing your praises by the end of the afternoon,” Jarvis agreed with a wink.
Alice blushed and laughed. It was so good to see her in high spirits that Jarvis was ready to forget about the fence and whisk her off for a long walk.
“Alice,” Franklin shouted from his crate. “Bring me some water, would you?”
“You should refuse,” Jarvis murmured, handing the dipper back to her.
Alice rolled her eyes and pushed past him without a word.
Jarvis watched her walk across the stream, plunging right in and getting her feet wet without much of a care on her way over to Franklin. Jealousy curled through his gut, but he brushed it aside. Alice didn’t have eyes for Franklin. No, the problem was that Alice didn’t think she should have eyes for anyone.
“Jarvis, where should I put this one?”
He was brought back to the reality of the moment as one of Ginny’s crew members marched up to him with a rail on his shoulder to start a new section of the zigzags. He focused on the work, but a part of him kept track of Alice even as he directed the tired work crew.
The afternoon was hot. Alice was kept busy bringing water to all of the workers, but it wasn’t enough. Jarvis had sweat clean through his shirt by lunch, and now it was little more than a useless wet rag. He’d kept working in it for Alice’s sake, but every man had his limit. August in Wyoming was punishing, even with the tiny bits of shade cast by scrub trees along the stream. He couldn’t take it anymore.
With a quick glance to Alice—who had crossed back to the middle of the crews, closer to the stream itself—he paused in laying rails to slip his shirt off over his head. As soon as it was off and the afternoon breeze hit his bare chest, he sighed in relief. As inappropriate as it was for him to strip down when a woman was present, it was a life saver. He walked
his wet shirt to one of the bushes near the section of fence they had just started on and spread it out to dry.
Within minutes, half of the rest of the men had shed their shirts as well. A few refused, even when their buddies asked if they were going to, sending Alice respectful glances. Jarvis figured that Alice had spent enough time in the company of men between Ft. Bridger and the ranch, heck, on the trail too, that she wouldn’t mind. He went back to work with renewed energy.
“That’s not fair,” Franklin hollered at them a few minutes later. “The rules don’t say anything about taking off your clothes.”
“What does it matter?” One of Howard’s men snapped back at him.
“It… it matters if it’s an advantage,” Franklin replied, sounding like a boy who’d had a toy taken away. Jarvis knew just what kind of an advantage it gave him, and it had nothing to do with fences.
“Then we’ll take off our shirts too,” one of Howard’s men reasoned.
“No, no, it’ll take too long, and you’re already behind,” Franklin protested.
It was too late. Four of Howard’s men were already stripping to the waist. Jarvis spared a glance to watch them, but in about three seconds he saw that it wasn’t the men who had Franklin’s nose out of joint.
Alice may have looked like she was busying herself with water and refreshments at the wagon by the stream, but when Jarvis checked on her, she was staring hard at his bare chest. So hard, in fact, that it took her a few seconds to realize he’d caught her watching. He stood straight to give her a better look. She tensed, blushing bright red and giggling, and whipped back to the wagon.
Jarvis laughed as he made himself go back to work. It was a fine thing to be appreciated by a woman. The look that had been in Alice’s eyes, if only for a few seconds, had been enough to tighten his groin and make him wonder how much hotter the afternoon could get.
Good Lord. He’d caught her staring.
Alice bit her lip as she refilled the water bucket from the larger barrel in the wagon. She took a drink, figuring that what she really needed was to douse herself. Jarvis was an attractive man. She wasn’t some fainting miss who had never seen a man’s bare chest before. Even before marrying Harry, she’d seen men working shirtless on hot days, in the city and outside of it. A chest was nothing to get excited about.
