“I’ve got to feed the stock.” Her brisk tone ripped him out of his daydream. She wasn’t fifteen anymore. No, she was full-on marrying age, and depending on how her folks got along with the Freesons in Fayetteville, he might have missed his chance.
“I’ll do it,” he said.
“You don’t know how.”
“To feed stock?” Josiah leaned against the countertop and noticed how the little hairs escaped from her bun and curled on her neck. “I was born on a farm, and if that ain’t enough, I’ve worked at the auction house for years. I know how to feed animals.”
“But you don’t know how I like it done.” She rocked as she scrubbed the iron skillet like she was trying to punish it. Such a little thing she was, but always putting forth a mighty effort.
“Then maybe you’d better come with me—”
The sound of breaking glass rang out from the parlor. Josiah shoved off the countertop and ran, skidding to a stop at the broken windowpane and the bearded man peering in.
“You locked me out,” Silas grumbled.
Josiah’s outstretched arm caught Katie Ellen as she attempted to rush past him. He pushed her behind him, but she was right up on his heels, so close he could feel her anger warming the back of his neck. “I didn’t lock you out,” he said.
“You sure did. I was just trying to see if this here window was unlocked and it fell apart when I moved it.”
“It did not fall apart,” Katie Ellen hissed as her fingernails became one with Josiah’s forearm. “Windows don’t just fall apart. Not in my house.”
“Stay,” Josiah ordered her. He started forward, then remembered he was barefoot. So did Silas.
“Here’s your boots.” Silas handed a pair through the window, but they weren’t Josiah’s. They were Mr. Watson’s. Josiah eyed them. Too small. He’d be crippled up for weeks if he wore them. Silas’s eyes darted from the boots to Josiah’s overlarge feet.
“Those are mine,” Katie Ellen called. “His are on the other side of the door.”
A close call, but they’d fooled him so far. Silas retrieved Josiah’s boots, much to his relief. If the man was a killer, at least he wanted his victims to have their feet uncut before they died. He pulled the boots on, no small trick with damp skin and no wool socks, and crunched across the glass to the door. It was locked.
“Sorry.” Josiah swung the door open. “Guess I locked it out of habit.”
Silas’s face wrinkled. “An accident, or were you just looking for some alone time with your wife?” He ambled across the glass and dropped onto the sofa.
Katie Ellen moaned with concern over her new furniture. “That’s crush plush upholstery. Your coat is wet.”
“He’s our guest.” Josiah twisted his neck, trying to work the kinks out. The more time the man spent off his feet, the less time he had to practice devilment against them.
Katie Ellen hurried forward, being sure to bump a shoulder into his arm as she passed. She dropped the dustpan on the ground and, taking the broom, she whisked the shards from the corner. “With the porch cover, we shouldn’t get any rain in, but the bugs will be a problem. Got to get that closed.”
“Do you have any waxed canvas?” Josiah asked.
She lifted an eyebrow. “Not usually.”
“We have some,” he said. “I’ll run—” He stopped. Josiah had been about to say home, but choked it down. “I could ask at the cabin down the valley.”
“You ain’t getting down that bluff,” Silas said. “I’ve done tried.”
Well, Josiah figured he could do a lot more than the man gave him credit for, but he couldn’t leave Katie Ellen unprotected. “Where’s the hammer?” he asked.
Now Silas leaned forward. “You have to ask your wife where your tools are?”
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. But Katie Ellen smiled. “He complains about my housekeeping, but let me tell you, he’s no help with any of the manly chores. Needlepoint, that’s about all he’s good at.”
“Katie Ellen . . .” Josiah warned.
“In fact, he stitched that sampler there on the wall.” She pointed at the framed needlework.
Hilarious. She was just hilarious.
Silas snorted. “What’s that say, Josiah?”
“It’s been a while since I stitched it,” he said, but Silas waited for his answer. Seeing no way out, he yanked it off the wall. “Beneath the alphabet it says here, ‘Dear Children, Let Us Not Love in Words or in Tongue, but with Actions and Truth.’” Josiah slid it back on the nail. She wanted to sass him, did she? How far was she willing to go? “Good advice for any marriage, although I much admire loving in words and tongue, too. Don’t you, wife?”
Her eyes wandered to his mouth, shooting a streak of fire up his spine. She blushed and he let out his breath slowly as if she had no effect on him at all.
“To tell you the truth,” Silas said. “I haven’t noticed any love betwixt the two of you in word or action. Something’s fishy here.” He shifted on the sofa and kicked his dirty boots up over the curvy decorated arm.
Pulling her gaze from Josiah, Katie Ellen’s lips pressed together so strong they went white, but she held her tongue.
If he expected Katie Ellen to play along much longer, he’d better allow her some time away from their antagonist. “Seeing how you’re stuck here, you want to help me feed the animals?”
Silas’s eyes slid closed. “Naw. I’ve been in this rain for three days straight. I need some sleep.” He loosened his hat from his long, stringy hair and settled it over his eyes.
Katie Ellen hurried to sweep the glass into the dustpan and silently glided to Josiah. “I’ll go look after the animals. You stay with him.”
“He’s not going anywhere, and I need to find something to patch up the window.”
Josiah followed her outside. Katie Ellen put on her boots first, and then her gloves, her coat, and her hat. Each step was measured, planned, and done with beautiful efficiency. She tugged her coat tight, then with nimble fingers worked the buttons closed from her neck down. And despite his fervent wishes, she didn’t seem to need any help, so he watched the rain running off the roof like a curtain of water.
She looked through the broken window at Silas lying on the sofa. “You don’t have a coat, do you?” she whispered.
“I’m not made of sugar, so I won’t melt, but I am rather sweet,” he said.
Her gloves slipped on the button. He smiled. She glared. They took out toward the barn, dodging beneath the trees as they went. The afternoon was getting cooler than it was when he’d first gotten there. Once they reached the barn, Katie Ellen made quick work of the lock. Josiah didn’t even have to ask. Since before he was old enough to remember, it hadn’t been safe to leave your cattle unlocked in these hills. Although strangers no longer roved the hills in the numbers they did after the war, some downright mean men had settled here and there. In fact, one had settled right in her cabin.
She pointed out her father’s carpentry tools and the lumber where he might could find a board for the window. He was just riffling through the scraps when the long squawk of an un-oiled pulley slapped his eardrums. He turned to see Katie Ellen holding on to a rope that stretched through two pulleys on a high beam, then down to a sling that held a bundle of hay swinging midair.
“You’ve plumb outdone yourself, haven’t you, Katie Ellen?”
Walking opposite of the suspended sling, Katie Ellen maneuvered it over the wall of the cow pen, then hand-over-hand lowered it. “I’ve gotten better over the years. That drawbridge on my tree house was just the beginning.” Once the rope went slack, she strode with that determined walk of hers to the stall and tilted the sling until the hay slid out. With the sling hanging empty, she once against found her spot at the end of the rope.
Forgetting the board, Josiah moseyed over to inspect this new piece of equipment. With ease, Katie Ellen pulled the rope down, which lifted the empty sling out of the cow pen. “How are those pulleys moving around?” he asked. “Are t
hey welded to that brace?”
“Yep.” She grunted between pulls. “The brace spins around where we can lower the hay and feed anywhere along the perimeter of the barn, and they’re double pulleys so the weight is split in half. I drew up the plans myself and Pa took them to the blacksmith. Pa’s back always had a crick in it. Now it doesn’t.”
Josiah wiped away the rainwater that streaked into his face as he tilted his head back to watch the pulleys work. “You amaze me,” he said.
The empty sling lowered quickly and melted flat on the barn floor. “You didn’t think I was smart enough to figure out something like this?” she asked.
“Are you kidding? I spent half my summers in your hideout to see what you’d make next. From that first slingshot—”
She turned, her eyes wide. “Are you the one who stole my slingshot? I should have guessed it.”
Was he? Josiah scratched his forehead. “I remember playing with it, but I wouldn’t have taken it. Not on purpose. I’m pretty sure I put it back.”
“Pretty sure?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“I was eight years old,” he said. “You can’t hold me responsible for something I may or may not have done that many years ago.” But her look said that it was their more recent history that riled her the most.
Chapter Five
He thought she was smart. Of course he did, but he didn’t think she was pretty enough, or lovable enough, or something. Since that kiss, he’d made himself scarce, which told her she lacked something he was looking for in a woman. Katie Ellen locked the barn and slid the key into her pocket. Lately he’d come around more, trying to tease her into the easy friendship they used to share, but they weren’t children, however much she might wish she could be so carefree. Josiah waited with the two-by-eight planks raised over his head, partially shielding him from the never-ending rain.
“You don’t have to wait on me,” she said. “I’ll stay dry.”
“Just being a thoughtful husband,” he said.
Something in her chest fluttered. This pretending wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t real, and Katie Ellen preferred real life to any whimsy moonshines Josiah could spin.
But if it were real . . .
She splashed across the yard to the house, frowning once again at the broken window. She’d kept everything perfect thus far, but she couldn’t produce a pane of glass out of thin air. Pa and Ma would see her mistake the minute they drove up. But they couldn’t drive up, could they? Did she have to fix the bridge, too?
Once on the porch, she began her complicated routine of disrobing. Tedious to some, perhaps, but it kept her without a drop of precipitation on her. Josiah shook his head like a wet dog and sent water flying in all directions.
“You’ll have another puddle on your floor if I go inside.”
She’d noticed how his clothes were drenched again. “I suppose if this were your house, you’d have something dry to change into.”
He lifted his head, his wet eyelashes framing concerned eyes. “Katie Ellen, have you paid any mind to what we’re going to do tonight?”
Katie Ellen scanned the drenched field. Water ran down the hill toward the river in ever-widening rivulets. Silas wouldn’t be leaving. Not until morning, at least.
“He thinks you sleep in the barn.”
“I’m not leaving him in the house with you alone.”
Her face warmed. “I’ll send him to my parents’ room in the loft. You can wait until he’s up there, then sleep on the floor in front of the fire.”
His eyes narrowed. “You mean to tell me that your parents sleep in the loft while you have the room downstairs?” He shook his head in disbelief. “You are one spoiled gal, Katie Ellen.”
“I am not.” But the familiar itch of shame tinted her protest. She hung her coat on the hook she’d designated for herself. She wished she could go to bed at a healthy hour, but she always found just one more thing that needed doing. “I’m usually the last one to go to sleep and the first one up in the morning. Ma said they just got tired of hearing me banging around in the kitchen.”
Her voice had risen, as Silas was more than happy to point out. “That’s all the shut-eye you’re going to let me catch?” he called from inside.
How much of their conversation had he heard? The considerate look on Josiah’s face seemed out of place as he gazed at her. He was probably thinking again what a stick-in-the-mud she was. Well, she wanted him to think that so he couldn’t turn her world upside down again.
“Simmer down, Silas,” Josiah hollered back. “We have to fix this window you broke.”
Spared from having to confront the man herself, she let out her breath in a whoosh. Maybe there were a few things that Josiah could take care of for her.
He lifted the board to the window and held it against the log wall. “I think about here,” he said.
“You don’t want to measure?”
“I don’t need to measure. I’ll start here and work my way down.”
“But what if you get to the end and see there was a better way—”
“This is how I’m doing it.” He lowered the board, pulled the hammer out of his waistband, and offered it to her. “You want to do the honors?”
Low thunder rumbled over the mountains, but no gust of wind disturbed the rain falling straight out of the blanket of clouds overhead. Katie Ellen took the hammer. Josiah positioned the board over the window and spread his arms wide, holding it flat against both sides.
“Where are the nails?” she asked.
He smirked. “In my pocket.”
The thunder rolled again. He laughed. “Just joshing. I dropped them in the flowerpot so they wouldn’t roll away.”
If she didn’t need him to keep Silas in his place, Katie Ellen would’ve clobbered him on the head with the hammer. Instead she found a nail, brushed the soil off of it, and reached for the board.
But Josiah’s arms were in the way.
“How am I supposed to reach it?” she asked.
He lifted his elbow. “Duck under, I reckon.”
She lowered the hammer. The front door opened and Silas stepped outside. A yellow toenail peeked from the hole in his sock. “Lookee here,” he said. “The happy couple finally working together.”
And somehow he sounded genuinely happy about it. If she didn’t know better, she might think he and Josiah were in cahoots.
“Can you move your hand over?” she asked Josiah.
“I’ll try.” And he did try, but it wasn’t far enough. She took the hammer in her left hand to try a different angle but couldn’t bring herself to smash the nail being held in her right hand. This wasn’t going to work.
“Maybe the happy couple don’t work so well together, after all,” Silas pouted.
Katie Ellen stepped back. Driving a nail was child’s play compared to the skills she’d developed. She could do this. Squaring her shoulders, she bent at the knees and ever so carefully ducked beneath Josiah’s arm. Slowly she straightened, fearful of any accidental contact. He widened his span to give her more space. Even with all the rain, the air felt as combustible as a kerosene tin. She cleared her throat and tried to place the nail. Her hand brushed his. She jerked it away and shot a guilty look at Silas, who’d caught the whole exchange.
Josiah leaned forward until he brushed against her back. His words tickled her neck. “Let me hold the nail.” She couldn’t move. Gradually her eyes focused and she realized that although his palm was still holding the board in place, his fingers were opened. She slid the nail into his grasp. He closed his fingers around it. The hammer had never felt so heavy or her wrist so wobbly. With her face almost against his forearm, she took a practice swing, stopping just above his fingers. Without a guide, she’d hit him for sure. Biting the inside of her cheek, she laid her hand on his to steady her aim. Still damp, he felt warm to her touch. The rhythmic movement of his chest against her back was going to mess up her aim, and then he’d be sorry. Maybe if she could time it right.
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“For crying aloud,” Silas said. “Can’t you swing a hammer?”
With a marksman’s focus Katie Ellen swung for the nail. Whack! She peeked through one eye. Josiah’s fingers were whole. The nail stood a half inch shorter than it had before. Another hit, and another. The air between them had warmed. A fine perspiration broke out on the back of her neck. Forgetting to keep a distance, she’d taken the nail herself, her fingers over his until it lay flush with the board.
“I can get the other side myself.” Josiah’s breath chilled against her damp neck.
She spun before remembering how close to him she was. Eye to eye, with his arm stretched just past her shoulder, she faced him full-on. His jaw was sharper, his lips fuller. Not since the kiss at the church raising had he been this close to her. No, one kiss and he hadn’t come near again. She handed him the hammer, then ducked out from under his arm.
“Silas can help you from here,” she said. “I’m going to set about supper.”
Josiah started to speak, but his voice came out a growl. He cleared his throat before scratching out, “Now that you’ve shown me how, I think I can do this myself.”
Josiah stoked the fire, then returned to his chair opposite of Katie Ellen. The flames splashed her face with orange, interrupted by an occasional flash of white from the lightning. Her eyes drooped. Her jaw stretched with a strongly contested yawn, but Silas had shown no signs of sleepiness yet. Nothing to do but stare into the fire and reminiscence.
Ever since that kiss, Josiah had been waiting impatiently for Katie Ellen to grow up, for him to grow up, so he could come back and court her proper. Finally he’d decided he’d waited long enough and began paying her particular attention again but was surprised to find that somewhere along the way she’d learned to detest the sight of him. Coming to check on her today had been just the next step in reacquainting her to his druthers, but he hadn’t expected to be thrown into the fire like this.
With This Ring? Page 10