Julia settled herself beside the cow and reached under. Daisy sidestepped. The cow was a giant compared to her. Fear of doing something wrong and being stepped on crept in.
“She just startled. Your hands are probably cold.”
They were, in fact, icy. Julia rubbed her hands together before creeping back to Daisy’s side. Tucking the bucket between her knees like Everett had, she attempted to keep the material of her skirts covering her bare feet. Why hadn’t she taken the time to put on boots? She reached under to grab a teat and pulled. A dribble plopped into the bucket. Pulling harder with her other hand, the same amount of milk came out, and the trickle hit the ground.
She turned to Everett for advice.
“Kind of walk your fingers down. And watch where you’re aiming.”
She tried again with more success and then applied herself. She would fill the bucket. But after a few minutes, her hands ached, yet she hadn’t gotten close to the amount Everett had milked in less time.
He stooped and felt the cow’s udder. “Feel. It’s not soft. You go until the udder’s soft.”
Julia blew the hair from her face.
He let out a sharp exhale. His eyes shut, and he ran his hand down his face.
Why hadn’t Rachel shown her how to do this? The man was exasperated with her in less than a few minutes. Was he as embarrassed for her as she was herself? Her lips were dry, so she licked them. A swallow couldn’t wet her parched throat. “I’ll get it done.” She went back to the cow with a vengeance.
He coughed and stood. “Easier. Smoother.”
Finally figuring how to use her thumb to the best advantage, she let go of her trapped breath and filled the bucket at a slow, but steady pace.
“Doing good.”
A smile crept onto her lips. She was doing well. The steadily rising liquid’s warm earthy smell made her empty stomach rumble. She looked to see if Everett heard, but he was no longer standing beside her.
She kept at the milking until the udder felt soft like he said it was supposed to. Standing to stretch her back, she waited for her arms to recover enough to heft the bucket to the house.
She patted Daisy. “Thanks, girl, for putting up with me.” She scratched at the cow’s spotted side. Why had Everett left? Rachel’s incredulity at learning that she didn’t know how to milk a cow came back to her. “Maybe he thinks I can’t do this.”
Daisy answered with a low cry that ended with a “bleh.”
Julia tickled her behind the ear. “You think so too, eh?” She hefted the bucket. “But look here, I’ve got a full pail. I’ll get better, if you’re patient with me, that is.”
But would Everett be patient enough? He said he wanted a helper, but he didn’t seem eager to have one.
———
Everett shut the barn door behind him without a sound. Didn’t she know she was indecent? Hair tumbling about her shoulders. Not even wearing stockings. When she blew that strand of bed-mussed hair from her face, he’d been wildly tempted to tuck it behind her ear to see how the brown wavy strand felt between his fingers.
He’d been too close to her. Had she heard his heart thumping when she’d licked her lips? It was unfair how her looks messed with his head. He’d stood and waited until she seemed to milk well enough that she’d drain Daisy tolerably. Then he had to get out of there. Though before he left with Dex to round up the calves, he’d have to come back to make sure she’d milked the cow dry.
Smoke rose from the Stantons’ chimney, and the smell of fried pork called to his near-empty stomach. Inside, he sat across the table from Dex, who was twisting dogbane plant fibers into rope, his booted foot propped on the wall beside him. Rachel hummed as she piled crisp bacon on a plate, slapping little hands attempting to grab slices while they still sizzled.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Everett’s head snapped up at Dex’s question. “Nothing.”
Dex grabbed more fibers to splice into his cord. “Then why are you already in here?”
Rachel set the plate of meat in the middle of the table. “Talk to her. She won’t bite.”
Couldn’t Dex have brought this up outside? “I reckon I just don’t have much to say.”
“Honestly?” Rachel put her hands on her hips. “You’re all of a sudden reserved?”
To prove it, he kept his mouth shut. He wouldn’t remind Rachel in front of the children how all of this was her fault.
Rachel stood, waiting.
Dex waved his cord at him. “Find something to say to her.”
Rachel returned to the cookstove and cracked eggs into a bowl. “It’s not like she’s stupid or repulsive.”
Wishing there was a way to close his ears, Everett settled for closing his eyes.
Dex cleared his throat. When he gave in and looked at his friend, a glint in Dex’s eye flashed. “Well, maybe just a bit repulsive.”
He groaned. It would help if she were.
Rachel brought a stack of plates and silverware to the table. “John, please set the table. Ambrose, get the napkins.” She turned to Everett. “You’re staying for dinner tonight—no arguing. Won’t hurt you none to talk to her over dinner.”
“I’m sorry, Rachel. If I’m still here I’ll take lunch, but I’m expecting my lumber this evening or tomorrow. Want to make sure they put it in the right spot.”
Dex left off fiddling with his rope. “So you done bought everything? Enough for a house?”
Everett nodded. “Yes. But next week, we’ll just put up the barn. I’ll do the house myself.”
“Why not let us help you put up the frame while we’re there?”
“Not sure what I want yet.” Everett glanced around the Stantons’ three-room home. The living area felt large until the entire family crowded in. The kids’ loft above and the bedroom behind the table weren’t much in space, but nicely done. To make a house as nice as this one, he’d need time. If Julia did marry him, they’d have to make do with his rickety cabin—not that she’d be willing to live in such a place, especially since his animals would have nicer housing.
The door creaked open. Julia entered, fancy leather shoes on and hair coiled at her neck. Her face glowed as she set the bucket by her feet, sloshing milk on the floor. “I did it, Rachel. What do I do now?”
Rachel instructed her on how to strain the milk. Something any child in Kansas knew how to do without being told. Julia didn’t belong here, but rather in some fancy house, in a big city like New York or Boston—where she came from.
Why had she left? No matter what the answer, it wouldn’t change facts. Julia might find a few farm chores exhilarating, but they would turn into drudgery all too soon. He’d find out how committed she was to the idea of being a farmer’s wife at the barn raising. One glance at his farm, and she’d surely run.
Chapter 4
The Parkers’ wagon pulled in a few hours late for the barn raising. Too bad Ned decided to show up at all. Had the echo of hammers floating across the gully guilted him into coming over? Everett hadn’t forgotten the look in his neighbor’s eye the day Julia arrived. And he still wanted to pummel him for it. He jogged to the stopped wagon. “Good morning to you.”
Ned’s face remained expressionless as he leaned his tall, thin frame away from the very plain woman with wide shoulders next to him. He spat on the ground. “A good morning now that the wind’s died down.”
Everett shifted his gaze. “Mrs. Parker, how do you do?”
Giving him no answer, Helga stepped onto the wagon wheel and to the ground without assistance. Though Everett smiled at her, she didn’t return the favor. Her eyes simply met Everett’s for a second before she ducked her head.
Everett jerked his head up at Ned and narrowed his eyes at the man’s indifference to his wife. “Hope you brought your hammer.”
Ned jumped in the back and picked up a few tools. “That and a plane.” He hopped off the wagon.
Mrs. Parker bit her lip, her arms wrapped around a small basket.
<
br /> Ned left them and headed toward the construction site, where the postmaster and his sons, along with Dex and William, had already helped put together two walls of the barn.
Everett offered his arm to Helga. “I’ll take you to the other women.”
“I bring bread.” She gestured to the covered basket. Her head tipped down so low he couldn’t see her face.
“I appreciate it.” Even if the bread was as stale as ten-year-old crackers, he’d not tell this woman for the world. She surely received enough criticism. Why had God blessed a man like Ned with a wife that had been meant for him? But Everett no longer felt hurt when he thought of how she’d left him for Ned, only compassion.
He opened his shack’s door for Helga. Julia lay sprawled on the uneven floor, reaching for Emma under the table. Her pointy boots kicked out from under her petticoats as she pretended Emma was too far to reach, causing the toddler to giggle uncontrollably. Rachel, John, and Ambrose echoed the laughter.
He cleared his throat.
Julia bumped her head on the underside of the table. “Oh!”
The boys snickered before their mother’s warning glare shushed them.
Julia’s hair was a mess, half of it fallen out of her updo. Why couldn’t she keep herself properly made up? A prim woman would help him keep his thoughts where they ought to be. Especially since she’d never answered his marriage proposal, not the day he asked, not the three days since. He had no right to think so warmly about another woman who’d decided against him.
He cleared his throat again. “Miss Lockwood, this is Mrs. Parker. I’m not sure if you’ve met.”
Arms splayed, Rachel strode over and hugged Helga. “I hope you’ve brought needlework or something to keep your hands busy.”
At Helga’s nod, Everett headed back to the men.
The image of Julia sitting on the floor rubbing her head, lower lip pouting, taunted him.
“Everett!” Julia’s lilting voice stopped him midstride.
He turned and waited for her.
“I was hoping to help outside.”
“What?” It was hard enough seeing her in his cabin, but for her to be outside with him the entire day? He took a breath to calm himself.
“Well, I don’t really do needlework, and Rachel can teach me some other time. I’m not needed until lunch. So I thought I could help out here.” Her hands rested on her hips as she surveyed the working men. A bright smile settled on her face.
He assessed her dress, which was barely serviceable, and the bonnet in her hand wasn’t the least practical. Why’d she think he needed her help when seven men were there to do the carpentry? But then, he couldn’t steal glances at her loveliness if she remained inside. He bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t need to spend any more time absorbed in her looks than he already did. If he couldn’t enjoy them later, then he shouldn’t enjoy them now.
He cleared his throat. “You aren’t a skilled woodworker by chance?”
Her lips bunched to the side. “No, but I can work hard, do whatever needs to be done.” She shrugged. “Maybe hand nails to the men?”
“John or Ambrose could do that. Wouldn’t you rather talk with the women?”
Her cheeks flushed. “I’m not saying it wouldn’t be nice, but I am here to . . .” She shrugged. “To help you.”
His insides churned. Had he been wrong? Maybe her silence hadn’t been an answer. But she still sounded undecided. Well, maybe he was undecided too. He needed a woman who could do farm chores as well as attend things in the house. Could she prove today that her tiny frame was up to the task?
She tipped her head toward the barn. “I’d like to help.”
What would the men think if he allowed her to help? She distracted him more than he was comfortable with, and perhaps the men would not welcome her in their midst. He followed her gaze toward the construction site, where the sound of work had receded. The Stantons were still pounding nails, but the others had stopped and formed a ragged line in front of the woodpile, their gazes fixed on Julia. Ned’s slanted smile and Axel’s sly grin made Everett want to send them home. “I don’t think—”
Caleb Langston, a gangly fourteen-year-old, swept his hat off and nodded past him. “Good morning, ma’am.”
Everett glanced back at Julia. Her dazzling smile as she answered Caleb sucked the wind from his chest. Her lit face could not fail to have the same effect on the young lad.
No more time to waste deciding—they needed the whole day to get the frame up before nightfall. He waved his hand toward her. “Miss Lockwood, this is Caleb Langston. His brother, Axel, and father, Jedidiah. This other man is my neighbor, Ned Parker.”
Axel’s hungry eyes beamed. “It’s nice to see you again, Miss Lockwood.”
Everett swallowed before delivering the news. “She wants to help us out here, so let her know if you need anything.” He expected to see apprehensive faces, but smiles played on every set of lips.
“That’d be mighty nice, ma’am.” Caleb tipped his head at her before flipping his hat back on.
Julia rubbed her hands together. “All right. What shall I do first?”
Axel stepped in and offered his arm. “Father told me to cut that wood over there. You could help me hold it steady.”
She turned pleading eyes toward Everett as Axel dragged her away.
“Perhaps she might rather help us, um . . .” Everett looked around for something, anything to get her back.
“You said she could help us with anything we needed, and I need her.” Axel threw a challenging look over his shoulder, then cupped Julia’s elbow, giving her a charming smile. “I don’t know how I could manage without you, ma’am.”
Everett stood, clenching and unclenching his fists. Why had he given in to Axel? The whippersnapper was hardly older than William. And Everett was just old enough to be the boy’s father.
He should have sent her back in or insisted he needed her, rather than tie her up with Axel for the rest of the morning. He had thought she’d distract him out here, and would she ever. Especially now that Axel was fawning over her. At least she didn’t look thrilled to be with the kid.
The harmony of hammer, nails, and saws buzzed around him. He couldn’t just stand and stare. Stepping over the arranged lumber on the ground, he joined the Stantons but kept his eye on the group working on the other side of the barn’s floor. Imitating Axel, Julia hefted a board and carried it to his set of sawhorses—impressive for a person that small. Maybe she could survive the work his farm and the Kansas earth threw her way.
Julia brushed sawdust from her face. Axel had stolen her again to steady the wood he was cutting.
“You know, Miss Lockwood.” Axel swiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm, exposed below his rolled-up sleeve. “You’re just the right-sized counterweight: featherlight, but made of something stronger, like you’ve got pinions of silver and gold.”
How long had it taken him to piece together that line? He should have thought longer . . . much longer.
“Thanks.” She sighed and leaned her weight against the board as Axel’s saw ripped through the wood. She muttered under her breath, “I guess.” Flying wood shavings attempted to take up residence in her eyelashes, so she turned her head aside.
Everett’s body braced a wall frame not ten feet away from her. Ned and William nailed the wall to the adjacent frame Dex held steady.
If she wasn’t to be a part of Everett’s group, she really should have stayed inside and learned to sew, though she wouldn’t admit just yet to Everett that she didn’t know how. But she’d said she was willing to help however she was needed, and she would prove true to her word despite the sawdust flying in her eyes.
Everett whooped and twirled a hammer in his hand. He patted William on the back before both men positioned themselves along a series of long boards lined evenly across the top of another. Dex lowered his arm and shouted, “Go!”
Everett and William both pounded nails into the boards furiously
. With each step Everett took, he pulled a nail from his mouth and pounded it in with ease and quickness. He looked over at William and shouted around his mouthful after every finished nail.
The sullen Everett she’d encountered was not the one she was observing now. The playful gleam in his eye made his face more attractive, and the muscles under his shirt rippled with every hammer stroke. He was jovial and cooperative with the other men; why would he be so different with her?
Everett threw his hammer down at the end of the row and flexed his arms while William nailed in his last nail. After ruffling William’s sweaty hair, Everett glanced at her.
“Julia?” Axel tapped her shoulder from behind.
She whirled toward him. “Yes?”
He wiggled the board under her fingers. “You can let go. I’m done with this one.”
“Oh.” She took her weight off the board.
“I’m done with this stack. Maybe I’m working you too hard? I know I’m getting tired myself.” He walked up close.
Julia looked back toward Everett and saw him frown.
“You still thinking about marrying him?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” She narrowed her eyes at Axel.
“Just seems like a woman of your qualities would go for a man ladies flock to, not run from.” His smirk unsettled her stomach. Everett might look like Theodore, but Axel’s egregious manners were more like him. His allure was weak in comparison, though, and he surely was several years younger than her.
Axel had more guts than Everett did with all his flirtatious teasing, but he simply churned her stomach. “I suppose you have plenty of girls.”
“Quite. But you, Miss Lockwood, dazzle them out of the sky.” He stepped closer and reached for her arm, but she sidestepped him at the last second. His affected charm might have worked on her a year ago, like Theodore’s had, but she could now spot bitter poison hidden under spoonfuls of sugar.
His finger slid down her arm. “Perhaps we should set a spell?”
“If you’re tired, you ought to sit, but I can’t—lunch preparations.”
It was Axel’s turn to frown.
Holding her skirts, she moved as fast as she could toward Everett without running. “How’s the barn coming?”
A Bride for Keeps Page 5