by Linda Ford
“Thanks,” she called after him.
He stopped. “For what? Agreeing to let you do something that I fear I will regret?”
“I meant for bringing the water.” She lifted her chin. “Why would you regret me helping you?” She spun around and hurried inside. He was stubborn and unforgiving. Why had she ever thought she cared for the man?
Two ladies faced her from the sitting area.
Aunt Nancy looked concerned. “Are you two at odds?”
Alice grinned and chuckled gleefully. “You know what they say? True love never runs smooth.”
Eve shook her head. “Then why would anyone want it?” She’d once thought she loved Cole, and it had led to heartache. Not something she cared to repeat.
She helped the ladies prepare for bed then, having no desire to see Cole again this evening, she withdrew to her room.
She’d accused him of treating her like a quitter. To a degree he was right. Back then she hadn’t been able to contemplate leaving her family. But, given time, she might have considered it.
He’d judged her and found her wanting without giving her a chance to decide for herself.
She would make sure he would not have that opportunity this time. She would not quit.
The next morning, she rose with a certain degree of trepidation. As Cole said, it would be hard work handling buckets of sand. She made and served breakfast.
“I’ll be out as soon as I clean the kitchen,” she said as Cole headed for the door.
“You’re going somewhere with him?” Aunt Alice practically crowed with delight.
Eve groaned. “Not like that. The well is filling with sand, and he needs someone to help as he digs it out.”
“You’re not—” Alice shook her head.
“Cole,” his mother called. “I need to speak to you.”
Eve groaned again. “Please don’t say anything. I want to help. I need to help.”
“You are helping,” Nancy said. “We need you here.”
Cole returned. “What do you need, Ma?”
Eve gave the woman a pleading look.
Nancy nodded. “I just wondered if you planned to stay home today, or are you going somewhere?”
Cole looked from his mother to Eve, clearly confused by her question. “I’ll be home today, Ma.”
“All right. Glad to hear it.” She waved him away.
“Thank you,” Eve said, when she was sure Cole was out of earshot.
Nancy rolled over to dry dishes as Eve washed. Aunt Alice wiped the table.
“Now you run along,” Alice said, when the dishes were done and the kitchen cleaned. “But I don’t want you to strain yourself. Working too hard can have a lasting effect on someone’s life. Nan, do you remember that little Miss Johnson back home?” She rushed on without waiting for an answer. “She was all bent over and crippled up. Mama said she had been forced to work too hard when she was a youngster, and that was the result.” Alice smiled at Eve and patted her arm. “Sure wouldn’t want to see that happen to you.”
Knowing there was no point in trying to make Alice believe she had no such intention, Eve bent over and hobbled across the kitchen floor. “You don’t want me to look like this?”
“Or end up like me,” Nancy said, touching her useless legs.
Eve went to the woman’s side and hugged her. “That was through no fault of your own.”
“I know.” She returned Eve’s hug, then turned toward the door. “I hear hammering. What’s the boy up to?”
They all crowded to the doorway to watch as Cole constructed a tripod over the well.
Eve knew immediately what he planned. “He’ll use it to lift the buckets up and down.”
Cole tested the apparatus then leaned back on his heels. His wide shoulders stretched the fabric of his shirt. He was so strong looking, so sure of himself. There was a time she reveled in the comfort of his strength, the security of his confidence. Before she realized it meant he was quick to judge others who weren’t as strong and sure of themselves.
Alice nudged Eve. “You can’t deny he’s a fine-looking man.”
Eve’s cheeks grew warm. “I wasn’t trying to.”
Nancy and Alice looked at each other and chuckled.
Eve realized she should have worded her denial differently. “Why would I?”
Another chortle from the ladies.
“It’s neither here nor there,” she protested as she hurried out to join Cole.
“I’ll bring the wagon over.” He drove it close to the well. “Empty the buckets into it. Here are some gloves.”
She slipped on the pair he handed her. They were so big she wondered how she would keep them on.
“Hold out your hands.”
She did so, and he secured the gloves around each of her wrists with a length of leather.
Finished, he stepped back. “Sure you can handle this?”
“I’m sure.”
He climbed over the brick wall, grabbed the rope, and lowered himself along with the bucket that held a shovel. “I’ll holler when the bucket is full.”
It only took a few minutes before he called, and she cranked the handle to lift the bucket. It swung easily from the tripod, and she had only to guide it to the back of the wagon and dump it.
“It’s easy,” she called.
Two hours later, she wasn’t so convinced. Her arms ached from guiding the heavy bucket back and forth.
Cole called, “Crank me up.”
She strained at the pulley and pulled him out of the pit. He was covered with sand and muck to his waist.
“Oh, Cole. That looks most uncomfortable.” She half reached for him, intending to brush off some of the sand then drew back.
He watched her, something dark and challenging in his eyes.
She couldn’t look away from his gaze. “I remember…” Her voice caught.
He nodded. “So do I.”
Was it possible they thought of the same incident? “I wanted to see where you worked, and you took me out to the Landers’ estate. It was so big. The house, the barns. How many barns were there?”
“Four,” he murmured.
She nodded. “One of the prize horses had gotten into a muddy ditch and couldn’t get out. You went down into the ditch with it and helped pull it out. You came out looking like that.”
“Except mud had spattered on my face.”
“I helped you clean up.” They’d gone to a little room in one of the barns, found some water. He’d sat on a chair, as she insisted on washing his face.
Their gazes had locked much like now, only with warmth and awareness between them rather than this guardedness.
He’d pulled her head down and given her a gentle kiss. She’d leaned her forehead to his, and they’d lingered like that until he shivered.
She’d jerked up. “You need to get home and into some dry clothes.”
The house where he lived with his mother and aunt lay on the other side of the estate. She’d wondered aloud if Mr. Landers wanted to keep his hired help out of sight.
“And yet close enough to be able to call on them day or night.”
She’d noticed the harsh tone in Cole’s voice. She should have guessed then that he wasn’t satisfied with working for someone else. Should have foreseen he wanted his own land, his own home. Perhaps if she’d been aware, his proposal wouldn’t have caught her so off guard.
He blinked and turned toward the wagon. “I’ll empty it then get back down there.” He paused. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
He grinned. “Do you really think I’m going to believe that?”
Again, his gaze melded to hers. Again, she was back in the past.
He leaned closer. “I remember when we went ice skating.”
“That’s exactly what I was remembering.”
He managed to look sheepish. “I was never very good on skates.”
She gave a low chuckle. “So I discovered.” He’d fallen and crashed dow
n on her, knocking the wind from her.
“I thought I’d killed you.” He scrubbed at his chin, leaving muddy tracks.
He’d hovered over her, calling her name and shaking her shoulder, his face so full of worry she’d wanted to reach out and calm him. But her lungs refused to work.
And then air rushed in and she gave a loud gasp.
He’d helped her sit up. “Are you all right?”
“I was fine then, and I am now.” She chuckled and patted his cheek, thinking it was a maternal gesture, but she pulled back quickly, as something she wanted to deny rushed through her veins. “My arms might be a little sore, but nothing terrible.”
“Good.” He rushed to empty the wagon.
He seemed in a big hurry. She knew it wasn’t because he was anxious to get on with the work, but because he wanted to escape her presence. Why should she be surprised? But it did hurt a little, especially when they’d been talking about moments in the past that rang with tenderness.
Cole lowered himself into the well. Into the cold quagmire. It was an unpleasant situation but served a useful purpose beyond getting the well working.
It was a good place to forget those sweet moments he’d shared with Eve.
Would he ever be able to erase the fear he’d felt when he’d fallen on her and thought she’d died?
He dug out pail after pail of sand and sent them to the top. Sand gritted between his teeth. It grated in his eyes and between his neck and collar.
“Cole.” Her voice came down to him like nectar from heaven.
He paused from his continual digging. “What?”
“Come on up. I need to make dinner and check on the ladies.”
“I’ll keep working.”
Her head blocked the patch of light at the top. “I can’t leave you down here alone. Something might happen.”
He let the words drift into his heart. It sounded like she cared.
Or was she simply trying to avoid any hint of danger?
It was the latter, as he well knew. How often had she said people must make choices that didn’t put them at risk, if for no other reason than it affected others?
“All right, pull me up.” He helped by going hand over hand on the rope until he was at the top. He swung from the hole and landed beside her. “Are you still trying to protect your world from change?”
She stared at him, her eyes blazing. “I know you’re referring to my reaction when you asked if I would go with you into the Wild West. I admit, there might have been a time I thought I could keep things the same.” Her words were sharp, as if each one was carved out with a razor. “In my experience, change means disaster. If you recall, my Papa and Mama died when I was young. My brother, Timmy, went to get help even though I begged him not to leave me alone with our sick Mama and Flora. He, too, died. I think it is natural for me to want to keep things safe and secure.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “But I’ve lived through many changes and discovered I can survive. Maybe the biggest change of all is in me.” She pushed past him and marched toward the house.
He stared after her. She claimed to have changed. But how much? Those changes had been forced upon her, and she’d survived. But would she willingly choose it?
Would she now see him as acceptable because he had a home close to where her parents and family lived?
It might be selfish of him to say so, but that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted someone who would be willing to follow him to the ends of the earth. Without mother, father, sisters, or brother nearby. Someone who would choose to accept change because she cared for him.
He dumped the wagon, trotted to the river to wash off the dirt, and made his way back to the house and stood a foot away from the veranda.
“Ma, Aunt Alice? Could someone bring me some dry clothes?” No answer. He called louder. “Ma, Aunt Alice.”
“Hold your horses,” Aunt Alice answered.
It was Eve who stepped out holding trousers and shirt rolled into a ball. Her cheeks flared pink.
He chuckled. “They’re just clothes.”
She handed them to him. “Take them and go. Dinner will be in about ten minutes.”
Still chuckling and feeling somewhat pleased with himself at eliciting such a reaction, he trotted to the barn, struggled out of his wet things, and into dry ones. He didn’t have dry socks, so stuck his bare feet into the wet rubber boots. He hung his clothes on the line hoping they’d be dry enough for him to pull on again after dinner.
He sat on the veranda step to work his boots off and tramped into the house barefoot.
Ma tsk-tsked at seeing his naked feet, and Aunt Alice giggled.
He stole a glance out of the corner of his eyes to see Eve’s reaction and had to hold back a chuckle at the way she blushed. He could not explain why it should please him to see her acting like she was aware of him as a man, but it did.
Just as it had two years ago.
He sat at the table, said a decent grace, and ate a hearty meal. All the while his insides jabbed accusing fingers at him. He needed, nay wanted, far more than awareness between a man and a woman. Eve had had a chance to give him more and had chosen not to.
As soon as he finished eating, he grabbed his clothes off the line and went to the barn to pull the heavy wet garments on. He put the wagon in place and was about to climb into the well when Eve called out the door.
“Wait for me. I’ll be there in a minute.”
He considered ignoring her.
Ma rolled up to the door. “Son, you listen.”
“Yes, Ma.” He sighed heavily and sat on the end of the wagon to wait.
A few minutes later she stepped from the house, carrying the gloves he’d given her. When she reached him, he held out his hand for the lengths of leather he used to hold them to her hands. Such small hands. They made his look like huge paws. He couldn’t help but remember how those same hands had clung to his as they walked, as they skated, as they ran across the frosted pasture to share tea with Ma.
He waited for her to put on the gloves and then wrapped them at the wrist.
She smelled like fried meat, cinnamon spice, and something fresh and sweet. He sucked in strengthening air. He recognized that scent. It was uniquely her. One time he had held her close and breathed it in until it filled his entire being. “You always smell so good,” he’d said.
She had tipped her face to him. “Like what?”
He had almost drowned in the blue of her eyes. Then realized she waited for his answer. He’d had to clear his throat before he could speak, and even then his words had been husky. “Like nectar from lilies. Or a field of blooming clover. Or—” He remembered how they had smiled and how he’d realized there was no need for words. Their eyes and their hearts spoke to each other.
What a besotted young man he had been. Blinded by his own thoughts.
He tied both gloves in place. Told himself he didn’t feel an echo of those feelings as he must of necessity lean close to her.
He stepped back and, without looking at her, climbed into the well.
Bucket after bucket of sand went up the rope to the top. Each one held progressively more water. Icy cold water. Despite his hard labors, he was chilled right to the marrow of his bones. He jabbed his shovel into the bottom of the pit. Lifted out another bucket of sand. The water level crept up.
“Looks like we’ll soon be done,” he called as she hoisted up the full pail.
“Good.” Her voice echoed down the pit and reverberated in his brain. He leaned back as another memory raced to his mind.
He’d brought her to the Landers’ estate to visit Ma and Aunt Alice, who had always approved of her and expressed fondness. He’d slipped out to check on a mare that was about to foal.
He’d sat with the animal, knowing she would soon deliver.
Eve must have gotten tired of waiting for him to return. At the time, he thought she followed because she missed him.
She’d called his name at the doorway, and he’d answered,
directing her to the pen where he waited. She’d sat beside him in the straw, seemingly content to stay with him.
A little later, the foal emerged. He’d wondered if she would be embarrassed or offended by witnessing the event, but her eyes had teared up.
“He’s so beautiful,” she’d whispered.
When the foal struggled to its feet, she had laughed and cried at the same time.
And he’d thought he was the most fortunate fellow in the world to have such a beautiful young woman content to share his simple life.
Too bad he hadn’t realized that her contentment came from having her family nearby.
He pushed aside his memories and regrets at a gurgling sound at his feet. Water rushed upward, rising past his knees. And then his thighs.
“Eve,” he shouted. “Send down the bucket. I need to get out of here.”
The water reached his hips. It crept to his waist.
“Eve. Where are you? Where’s the rope? The water’s rising. Hurry.” He had no desire to drown in his own well. “Eve!”
“Hang on. The rope is stuck.”
The water was chest level.
He pressed his hands to the walls of the shaft and tried to scramble upward, but it was too slippery for him to get any traction. He used the shovel to lift himself a few inches, but still the water rose. He stretched and clawed and jammed the shovel into the wall to pull himself upward.
The water reached his shoulders.
It would reach his face in no time.
He sucked in air, filling his lungs to capacity.
But how long could he hold his breath? How many times could he push himself to the surface for a gasp of air before—?
Chapter 6
Eve heard the urgency in Cole’s voice. She heard the gurgle of water. Her hurry made her clumsy as she struggled to unknot the rope and get it back on the pulley. Should she toss the rope down without unknotting it? But she couldn’t be sure it wouldn’t suddenly release. If it let go of the pulley and fell into the water, how would he get out?
She forced herself to slow down and, step by step, untangled the rope and make it secure.
“Cole, are you all right?” He hadn’t called out in several seconds.