Careful not to disturb the ladder’s seating, he crawled onto the roof. He’d do anything, if she’d just ask. Why wouldn’t she?
On her hands and knees at the peak of the roof, Julia spread shingles in a disorganized fashion. She glanced over her shoulder. “I can handle it.”
A bunch of shingles nailed in a crazy quiltlike pattern meandered up the left side. He clamped his lips to keep from loosing a roofing lecture. “Why didn’t you ask me to do this?”
She shook her head. “You have enough things to do.”
“Of course I do. Doesn’t mean you should be doing dangerous things.”
“It needed doing, and I’m here to work.”
Why was she so bent on work? A subconscious jolt reminded him that he’d told her he’d been ordering mail-order brides because he needed a helper. He hadn’t asked any of them to come for love.
And she was determined not to have any feelings for him whatsoever. He planted himself on his backside and resigned himself to watch.
She stared at him with raised eyebrows and then returned to work.
She’d almost become human with Helga around, relaxing from constant work to chat and take walks with her friend. But she was back to her old habits. He didn’t want this driven woman trying to prove herself through hours of back-breaking labor. He wanted the woman who laughed, who hummed off-key, who talked to herself when she thought no one was around. She’d shown up for a while but had left as if she’d traveled away with Helga on the train.
Julia had proven she intended to stay—at least bodily. But this was not how he envisioned living with her for the rest of his days. She’d drive him insane. “I don’t need you to work so hard, especially if you could get hurt.”
She glanced up in between a hammer blow, but kept pounding until the nail lay flattened, nice and sideways. She sat back on her heels. “That was the deal. You provide for me. I work for you. What else do you need me to be doing?”
Warming me at night, laughing with me, sitting under the stars and dreaming up names for our future children.
I want you to live with me.
How could he tell a woman so attractive, so distant, what he desired? When he didn’t answer, she returned to her task.
He picked at the dirt under his fingernails. Why couldn’t he charm Julia like he had Rachel’s sister?
Patricia had shadowed him at church and every time she found him in town. She clung to his every word when he visited. Her eyes told him she couldn’t wait for him to whisper in her ear when he said good-night.
Until he had his house built, he’d kept those words bottled, but he’d known she’d say yes. And say yes she did—to another man. A man who hadn’t waited until everything was perfect and ready for a wife. And without a word to him, she settled onto the wagon seat beside her husband and headed back east.
Everett stopped cleaning his nails and glanced at the new house. He’d finished adding the furniture two days ago. He was completely ready for a wife now.
Julia’s tiny form scooted across the rooftop near the edge. Everett held out his hands for support, but she ignored the offer. He let out the breath he’d been holding when she quit backing up. “This is ridiculous.”
Julia dropped her nail, but kept her eyes on the roof. “If I’m doing that poor of a job, you could tell me how to fix it rather than insult me.”
He crawled over and snatched the nail. “That’s not it. I mean how we’re acting. We’re ridiculous.”
She looked up at him, her delicate eyebrows arched. How he wanted to run his finger across them and down to her cheek, her mouth, her neck. Her fake cough made him glance up from where he’d been staring. A twitch pulled at his lip. “I’m sitting here, thinking how nicely you’re put together—” he rolled the nail between his index finger and thumb—“and all you’re thinking about is needing this nail so you can get back to work.”
She swiped the nail from his hand. “Yes, I need to get back to work. I’m more than just a pretty face, you know. Men like my looks. You like my looks. That’s nothing new. Still doesn’t mean I’m incapable of doing anything besides being displayed in a china cabinet.”
“Actually, I don’t like your looks.” Her looks drove him mad, made it hard to get stuff done, to stay in his celibate cocoon, to think about anything else.
She dropped her nail, which skipped down the shingles and off the roof. “You don’t like me for the work I do. You don’t like me for my looks. I’ve got nothing.” She stood, brushed off her dress, and grabbed the hammer.
He stood with her.
“Since you don’t need me for anything, I’m going to go visit Rachel.” She turned her body parallel to the roof’s edge to slip past him.
He grabbed her by the elbows when she passed inches from him. What thoughts ran through her head, making her this skittish? “That’s not what I meant.” His thumbs caressed the crook of her arms. “I said I didn’t like your looks . . . because they distract me.”
She stiffened.
His hands slid to her wrists and then clasped her hands. “Why are you being so stubborn? You act as if I’m invisible.”
She tugged against his grasp, but when he didn’t let go, she looked away. “Don’t think I don’t notice you.” Her neck turned a nice shade of pink.
So she did notice. He’d been attentive, protective, admiring, but still she pushed him away. What else could he do to prove himself trustworthy?
She whipped her head around to face him. Her eyes narrowed into tiny slits. “Why can’t you stay out of my thoughts? Why can’t you leave me be? I’m working as hard as I can.”
He examined the hands he held and her bare ring finger. “I appreciate the work you do for me, but it’s not enough.”
She huffed and shook her head, her mouth constricting into a tiny line.
He tried to capture her gaze, but she wouldn’t look at him. “Actually, it’s not enough that way too. You work hard. I work hard. But we’d need to have a whole army of children to keep up with the work on this land. If we expected our efforts alone to be enough, we’d be fools.”
“So now I’m not enough, and I’m a fool to think so? I’ve got to produce a shipload of children to satisfy your homestead’s never-ending work needs? Well, unfortunately, that’s not even possible. If you’ve forgotten, I’m unlikely to have children, let alone an army of them.” She sniffed. “So you’ll have to be satisfied with the work I do or find someone else.”
“I’d never trade you for anything.” If an arrow struck him in the chest, the pain radiating out from his heart couldn’t be more painful. Did she really think he’d toss her aside? Where had her anger come from all of a sudden? He had to let her know he loved her. Words wouldn’t pierce her heart, but maybe a kiss. The shaking in his gut and the knowledge that this wasn’t the right time couldn’t keep him from her any longer.
Swallowing hard, he moved a bit closer. He’d kissed her once. Wanted to a thousand times. “I don’t need you to work all day long or have a hundred children to be happy. But I’d like it if we could be friendlier.” His hand traveled up her arm to the strand of hair lying listlessly against her neck. He kept his gaze glued on the soft brown lock as he caressed it. “A lot friendlier.”
She wasn’t looking him in the eyes, yet she hadn’t pulled away. Could it be that she wanted his touch but couldn’t ask for it? Whatever made her so upset after Ned’s attempt at harming her kept her stockaded behind a wall of fear.
“You shouldn’t be afraid of me. Haven’t I kept my word? And I will.” His other arm coaxed her forward. “But I can’t help loving you just the same.” His mouth touched down on hers, her lips trembling under his. The softness, the taste. They’d become sweeter since the wedding.
Waves of pent-up desire rushed up from deep within, faster than an uncontrolled fire licking up dead grasses after a season of drought. He needed more. A bit more.
A lot more.
Her hands flattened against his shirt, but he
couldn’t break away. She pushed herself from his embrace with a shove. And right to the roof’s edge.
Falling flat on his chest, the shingles tearing into his shirt, he tried to snatch at the last bit of green fabric disappearing over the eave. Her scream when her ruffle tore off in his hand stomped on his heart.
“Nooooo!” Their like cries ended in unison.
Chapter 20
Like a reckless boy leaping from a hayloft, Everett jumped off the roof after Julia. But the ground was closer than anticipated, and his ankle cursed him upon landing.
Still, the pain knifing up his leg was nothing compared to the agony-laced howl coming from his wife. But at least she was breathing.
Why had he lied to her about being able to control himself? He’d just stolen a kiss on an uneven roof. “I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t blame you if you slapped me good. Repeatedly.”
Julia didn’t snap at him as he expected. Clutching her leg with one hand, she tried to sit up, but slumped back to the ground with a moan.
“Julia?” His sore ankle protested beneath him, but he shoved off it anyway and scrambled over.
Perspiration lay atop her creased eyebrows, and her mouth had thinned into a tight bundle of lines.
“What hurts?” He pulled her up into his arms.
She answered with nothing but a gasp, and then stillness.
He’d known women to faint at pain any boy would scoff at, but that didn’t explain her ashen skin. He brushed a hand against her face where a rock had scraped her cheek. “Look at me.”
Her eyelids obeyed halfheartedly as if awaking from a long night’s slumber. “Mmm?”
“What hurts?”
She tried to push into a sitting position again. “Can’t.”
He threaded his arms under hers to haul her toward the shack’s wall, but a yelp brought him up short.
“Stttttop . . . sssssst . . . opppp,” her voice slurred, though he’d quit moving her the second she’d hollered.
A trail of blood colored the grass where her leg had dragged a few inches.
His breathing sped up. It couldn’t be that bad. “Did you scrape your leg on the way down, or are you talented enough to land on every spare rock I have in the yard?”
She didn’t even scowl at his ill-timed joke. But at least her eyes remained open.
“William’s actually pretty good at stitching if you need it.” Everett propped her against his bent leg so he could maneuver to look without dropping her. “One of my steers slashed himself real good once. After William was done with him, I could have sworn he’d figured out a way to sew up animals from the inside out—couldn’t even see the gash once he’d finished.” He stretched over to straighten her leg, and blood bloomed against her skirt.
He muttered words he didn’t want her to hear as his shaky fingers pulled up the layers of skirting. “Hold still.”
Her stockings were pristine until he exposed the gash—and then the bone, a sickening white protrusion in a pool of blood.
“That’s . . . that’s . . .” Julia heaved.
He dropped the wad of fabric and turned her upper body so she could keep from getting sick on herself. His own stomach was barely under control.
He’d seen broken bones jutting from a man’s flesh a few times during the war.
But he never again saw that soldier with all of his limbs intact.
If he ever saw him again.
The tears obscuring his vision swelled faster than the crimson spreading across her skirt.
He had offered to let her slap him—but she ought to smack him into kingdom come.
If she didn’t arrive there first.
Julia turned her head toward the front of the cabin. White flashes followed her vision’s progress until she found the groaning door. Rachel’s stout form entered and flew to the bedside.
“Oh, Julia!” Rachel landed on her knees beside her. “How did this happen?”
Julia groaned and held her cold hand against her throbbing temple. “Everett?” The raw side of her face hurt when she moved her mouth, but that pain was minuscule compared to her leg.
“He’s gone to Salt Flatts. Dex was out somewhere in the pasture, so I sent Everett for the doctor. Figured it’d be faster. I didn’t know where William was.” Rachel pulled the tendrils of hair from the scrape near her eye. Each strand stung as if Rachel were pulling out thorns. “Maybe I should have gone myself and sent Everett back to you.” Rachel squeezed her hand. “I’ll get water.”
“Everett cleaned—” though the vocal reverberations inside her skull hurt, she powered through—“cleaned it. Whiskey.” She rolled her head in the direction of the jug sitting on the stool.
Rachel scooped up the jug, rag, and bowl and knelt beside her. She soaked the rag.
“No,” her voice croaked. “Drink.” The pain and fire in her leg cried for relief.
Rachel slid across the mattress. Her backside bumped against Julia’s knee. Twinkling stars danced in patterns Julia couldn’t track.
“Oh dear. I’m making it worse. Let me have a look at your leg.” Rachel stood.
A bit of petticoat stuck in the wound as Rachel pulled the fabric away. Hot pricks of pain crawled through her already screaming flesh.
Rachel’s eyes grew huge, and her hand shook as it floated up to cover her mouth. “Oh!” She closed her eyes. “I . . . I don’t know what to do.”
Was there any hope if Rachel was at a loss? The searing pain made Julia wish life would end today anyway. The glimpse of bone protruding at the shin and the lightning strike of pain when she’d first seen the injury had made her lose her lunch. She’d have fainted if Everett hadn’t gathered her in his arms and shouted in her face.
“Everett cleaned it.” And she had screamed almost the entire time. When her voice turned raw from overuse, the yells became moans. After he’d finished cleaning her leg he apologized over and over as he set it in a splint and waited for the applied pressure to stop the bleeding.
The pain was old now, as if she’d always lived with it, like she would always have to live with it. “Don’t need to clean it again.” The pain swelled into her head and burst forth with fresh tears.
Rachel gingerly set her skirt back around her legs. “Everett’s coming, honey.” She grabbed the whiskey and filled the cup to the brim. “There now, the doctor will be here real soon.” She glanced toward the door. “Please, Lord, let them hurry.”
Julia floated into darkness accompanied by the sound of Rachel’s pleading.
Blaze slid to a stop in front of the homestead, and Everett jumped off his sweaty horse and rushed over to the doctor’s mount. The nag sagged under the large man’s weight. “Let me get your bag.” He grabbed the black leather portmanteau and left Dr. Forsythe to follow after him.
Inside, Rachel kneeled beside the bed, her head cradled in her arms by Julia’s side.
Julia’s face was pale, her eyes were closed.
“She’s not . . . she’s not . . .” Everett dropped the bag on the table and rushed to touch her face.
Rachel’s hand rubbed his back. “No, Everett. She’s passed out.”
Dr. Forsythe’s rotund form hefted its way to the bedside. “Make room, please.”
Rachel jumped back, and Everett clung to Julia’s hand as the man did a quick check of her face and pulse before moving to her leg.
The sweaty physician settled himself and moved aside the torn dress. He peered down his spectacles at the splint Everett had thrown together before racing to the Stantons and on to Salt Flatts.
“You did well enough for something this extreme.” He opened his bag. “Just so happens I’ve been reading the material I picked up about Lister’s antiseptic principle in regard to compound fractures.” He pulled out a bottle and gauze. “Seems successful enough, but I’ve yet to try it. A bit impractical, but with a mortality rate of eighty percent of my own cases with fractures like these, it can’t hurt to attempt it.”
Rachel whimpered.
Ev
erett’s whole body tensed. Eighty percent! How could the man say such a thing? His taste buds relived the sweetness of Julia’s lips. He might have very well killed her for that second of pleasure. He slid down the wall until his rear hit the floor, dragging her limp and clammy hand to the bottom with him.
Julia moaned.
Rachel knelt beside him as the doctor huffed and bustled about Julia’s injury. “We best pray, Everett.”
He nodded and listened to her prayer but couldn’t form words to add to her petition. Julia might never want him, but he prayed God would want her and save her, not just from death and decay, but from an eternity without His love. Since the day at the pond, he knew Julia didn’t have a relationship with God. He’d figured he’d have time to talk to her about it once she opened up. If God would turn this horrid mistake into the path that would lead her to understand God loved her, he could let her go. His desires had put her in jeopardy. He could, he would, lay them down. If she would only survive . . .
“I need you up here, boy. Hold her down.”
For a few seconds, his tears thwarted his vision, keeping him from detaining her thrashing limbs. Her cries murdered his heart, and he choked on her screams.
Falling, falling, falling, splash. Julia sputtered and clawed to keep herself above the water’s surface. “Help! Help!” She yanked the arm that plunged in near her face. “Help!”
“Shhhh.” A deep soothing voice hushed her. She knew that voice. She pulled the muscular arm and tried to see through the water. Worried steel gray eyes swam before her.
“It’s me, Julia. You need to stop moving. You’re going to disturb your leg.” His tone was forceful. “You cannot disturb your leg.”
Her leg. Her leg was on fire.
“You’re burning up. I’ve got to get more water.”
A door slammed, leaving her alone. Alone in a fire, reaching inch by inch to her middle. She didn’t want to feel that fire anymore. Make it go away!
A Bride for Keeps Page 21