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In Love's Territory

Page 9

by Lucy Evanson


  ~ ~ ~

  Sam was still sitting outside his door, enjoying the evening, when Kate and her family arrived home. She was too far away to see properly, especially in the dim light afforded by the lantern that Becky greeted them with, but he had a pretty good idea of how she looked. He could imagine her now, and she was beautiful. Her new green dress probably brought out those warm brown eyes, and she most likely had her hair piled up in an elegant arrangement, with maybe a strand or two falling loose to graze her neck. Just the thing to gently brush out of the way when taking her into his arms for a kiss.

  Sam jumped to his feet and shook his head to clear his thoughts. Might be a bit soon to be thinking of her like that. Even if she had cooled down a bit and even apologized for it, the last time she’d gotten very excited about him she slammed a door in his face. Yeah, it could take a while for her to come around. A long while, but that’s okay. I can wait.

  A light grew in the window of Kate’s bedroom, and he couldn’t help thinking that just down the hill, Kate was getting undressed and would soon be getting into bed. He vigorously shook his head again and sat down on the stump.

  There were only two ideas that filled his mind these days, and given that thoughts about Kate were getting ahead of themselves tonight, it was probably best to concentrate on the plan. Ever since his father had died, Sam had seen a time coming when he would need to be the man of the house and provide for his mother. Her death the year before had stolen that responsibility from him, but the dreams of the young boy had already hardened into the plans of the young man.

  Of course, there weren’t many opportunities for advancement on Taylor Farm. Sam had already been doing his father’s job for years, but he didn’t want to make a career out of running somebody else’s farm. Bill Taylor had been a great boss, and Tom seemed the same so far, but the only real boss Sam wanted to have was himself.

  He had spent the past year talking to anybody and everybody who would give him the time of day, trying to learn as much as he could, and soon he knew as much as any other man in Iowa County about running a business. It had been difficult to imagine making the leap from being a hired man to a business owner, especially with no land, no animals, nothing of his own besides a one-room cabin on somebody else’s farm. But he had worked at this night and day, spending every free moment with his journal, running numbers on page after page, calculating the price of feed versus the price of milk, comparing the cost of seed against the yield per acre, arguing with himself over the relative benefits of oats, corn, wheat and hops; contrasting the value of his own time against the profit he might gain.

  The numbers turned up the same over and over again. It would be difficult—very difficult—but it was possible. Even with no land yet and hardly any money to speak of, Sam could see a way that would get him, step by step, toward his goal.

  But it all had to start with a cow.

  Sam retrieved a lantern and walked down the hill to the barn. He let himself in and passed by several stalls on his way to the back corner. As he approached the last stall and looked over the gate, his cow turned to look at him, her huge eyes shining in the lamplight.

  “It’s all up to you now, girl,” he said.

  The cow snorted at him and lowered her head back to the straw.

  He watched her for a moment longer and then turned to go, swinging the heavy door closed behind him as quietly as he could, but the old hinges couldn’t help but give out a long, loud squeak as he eased it shut.

  He shot a glance toward the house. This close, in the quiet of the night, the noise might have woken somebody up, and sure enough, almost immediately a light appeared in Kate’s bedroom.

  Damn, he thought. Gotta oil those hinges tomorrow.

  “Sam, is that you?”

  He glanced up. He could see Kate’s silhouette in her window, and he lifted the lantern up higher so she could see his face. “Evening, Miss Taylor,” he said. “I didn’t disturb you with the barn door, did I?”

  “No, not at all. I just couldn’t sleep,” she said, pulling the shawl closer around her neck. “What are you up to? It’s late.”

  “Yeah, I was just checking on some things,” he said. He walked toward the house so that he wouldn’t have to speak so loud. “How was the theater?”

  Her smile was clear and bright even in the low flicker of the lamplight in her room. “It was lovely,” she said. “I enjoyed it even more than I’d been expecting.”

  “You did? That’s terrific,” Sam said. “I’ll have to keep my eyes open for the next one. I’ll let you know if I see anything coming up.”

  “I’d appreciate that, Sam,” she said. “I’d love to go again. You know, you should go next time.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “I’m probably not the right audience for that.”

  “Well, maybe you should think about that again. Part of the fun is who you go with,” she said. “Or who you meet. Who knows? You might even find the woman of your dreams there.”

  “The woman of my dreams, huh?”

  “I’m telling you, it could happen.” Her smile was broad and warm, encouraging a grin to come to Sam’s face as well.

  “All right then, I’ll go next time,” he said.

  “You won’t regret it,” she said, pulling the shawl more tightly around her. “Well, I suppose I should get some sleep. Good night, Sam,” she said.

  “Good night,” he said, watching as she closed the window and stepped away.

  Woman of my dreams. He turned and started back up the hill to his cabin. She had given him a lot to think about. It was almost too much to believe that she’d actually suggested going to the theater with him next time. Or had she suggested it? He rolled her words over and over in his mind. She’d love to go again. She thought he should go too. The fun was in who you went with.

  Yep, that was pretty clear, even for somebody who had as little experience with women as Sam had.

  The smile remained on his face all the while he walked back up and returned to his seat on the stump. You won’t regret it, she had said. No, I can’t imagine I would.

 

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