Dex cleared his throat and glared at Everett.
Everett pulled his hat off and offered her his arm, a slight redness creeping up his neck. “I’m this way.” Maybe he was just nervous. She could sympathize, since she’d been trembling since she woke up that morning.
She tightened the hold on her package and slipped her free arm into his. The man radiated tension, from the flexed muscles in his forearm to the set of his jaw. If something in her letters to Rachel had been disagreeable, he wouldn’t have asked her there, right? Maybe she’d found a man who didn’t find her attractive. She took in a steadying breath. That would be a good thing.
He tossed her package in the back and handed her up onto the wooden plank seat, his hands tarrying at her waist for less than a second.
John yelled at her from the back of his wagon. “See you at home!”
She waved at him as Everett slid onto the bench, keeping a large gap between them. Farther than decorum dictated.
The wagon jerked forward, and she nearly slid off the seat. She righted herself and clenched the rough wooden plank beneath her. She’d never ridden on a farm wagon before. How was she to keep her seat in a ladylike fashion? As the Stantons’ wagon passed them, she dared to wave at Emma, who peeked over her mother’s shoulder. Their wagon left a cloud of dust, the children’s gay laughter mixed in with the powdery earth.
Glancing behind her, Julia caught several men staring at her from the boardwalks, a few pointing and laughing. She smoothed her bunched skirts with only one hand while glancing at Everett’s stony face. Why was the man she’d come to wed the only person who refused to look in her direction?
They hit a rut, and she grabbed for her hat as she bounced off the seat. Everett’s arm shot around her side and pulled her back beside him. His touch left an icy hot imprint about her waist. She slid to the opposite side of the bench seat. She didn’t want to feel anything like that again.
“Yah!” he shouted at the oxen without giving her the slightest glance. He kept his gaze trained forward. She waited for him to talk first, but his jaw stayed rigid. Maybe he’d talk after they’d gone a distance. She tried to calm herself by watching the tall green grasses wave in the forceful wind, rippling this way and that, chasing each other to the lines of trees scattered in the distance. The tremors in her chest settled with the swaying of the seat as she picked imaginary lint from her skirt. More prairie disappeared behind them.
She couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “So, Mr. Cline. Where’s your property?”
He pointed ahead of them at a line of trees. “My land is adjacent to the Stantons, about an hour and a half southwest of Salt Flatts. The Stantons live to my east and the Parkers just to the south.”
When he didn’t elaborate further, she examined his face. His lips, though hard-pressed, kept moving around, like words wanted to come out but wouldn’t. Silent tension, hard as a block of ice and about as movable as the man beside her, filled more time than she could bear. She didn’t want to start rattling off about herself since he didn’t seem at all interested.
She watched the oxen and Everett’s movements, waiting in vain for him to talk again. More quiet minutes ticked by. She had to make him talk. She didn’t know how long the Stantons’ hospitality would last, but she couldn’t waste several days in silence with the man. In fact, she wasn’t sure she could handle another hour of it now. “What do you use your land for?”
“I’ve several acres of grain and corn. Looking to get more cattle once I get more hedgerow readied. Have a dairy cow and her heifer at the moment.” After another period of silence, he said, “I do a lot of hunting on the property.”
“Will you teach me to drive the oxen?”
Everett’s head snapped her way. “I suppose you could learn.”
She smiled. Looked like he did want a worker. “When do I get to see your place?”
“Soon, I suppose. I’m having several neighbors over in a few days. They’re going to help me put up a barn.”
“That’s nice.”
He flicked the reins and glanced at her dress. “I’m sure our get-togethers can’t compare to anything you’re used to back in Boston, but they’re fun nonetheless.”
“I’m sure it will be exciting.” When they abruptly dipped into a wheel rut, her grip on the seat slid, and she gained a splinter. Thankfully, her gloves kept it from lodging deep into her skin. “I know this isn’t the city.”
“No, it’s not. It’s a rough life and requires hard work.”
“I can work.”
He eyed her, and she shot him her most winning smile. Pulling his collar away from his neck, he looked her straight in the eyes. “I’m sure you can do whatever you set your mind to, but I have to warn you, it’s not easy.” He glanced at her from under his heavy eyelashes. “I’m sure you had servants or cooks or some manner of paid help back in Boston, but I haven’t the money. The women here have to do everything from mending to cooking to cleaning to farm chores. Sometimes, with big projects like a barn, neighbors pitch in, but homesteading is all about self-sufficiency because everyone needs to survive. And if you don’t sow enough, harvest enough, can enough, stockpile enough . . . you may not.
“You may not like that. And that’s—” He cleared his throat. “That’s fine. And I can’t promise I can help you adjust since I’m racing the first frost like everyone else around here. And if you marry me, so will you. I want you to know that I hold you under no obligation if you decide that’s too much. Just . . .”
He squirmed, and she gripped her seat tighter. Was he trying to convince her to forget this whole arrangement? She wasn’t too comfortable with the idea of marrying a stranger. Getting married at all, actually. But maybe a man not wanting a wife was exactly what she needed.
“Just, well, there’s no need to drag on anything if it’s not what you want.” He looked off in the distance, and she could barely make out his words. “But if you want to work hard and marriage is why you’re here, then I’m willing to offer that. For God knows I need a helper.”
Chapter 3
Julia swayed in the wagon seat next to Everett, her gaze glued to the waving prairie, her hands clamped onto her wooden seat. Marriage. Funny how hearing him vocalize his proposal made her heart skitter in fear—she’d come here for this very reason, known that’s what he wanted, but somehow it hadn’t seemed real. But now he’d asked, and she’d have to answer—aloud. But words wouldn’t come.
“You don’t have to say anything now.”
She let the tension in her body flow out with a slow, controlled exhale. She’d never been so thankful to have someone read her thoughts.
Everett pointed to a faraway stand of trees so close together they entwined with one another. “Dex and Rachel’s place is just beyond that hedge row.”
She nodded, the only answer she was capable of giving.
The wagon swayed at an agonizingly slow pace until they finally passed the line of hedge. Julia watched as William hefted her largest trunk from the back of the Stantons’ wagon and hauled it toward the barn. The peace of knowing she had a place to stay while she worked up the courage to discuss Everett’s proposal in more detail washed over her.
Everett’s wagon jerked to a stop, and she clenched the seat to keep from hopping down unassisted. She could see the question she hadn’t yet responded to lingering in Everett’s eyes as he held out his hand. He supported her elbow as she navigated her way down. Her feet found solid ground, yet she felt as if she were sinking as she stared up into his cold blue eyes, a touch of heat in his cheeks.
“Thank you, Mr. Cline.”
He swallowed and dropped her hand, yet stood staring at her. She quickly clasped her hands together. He’d said she didn’t have to say anything now; had he not meant it? But how much more time did she need to frame a reply? He’d not wait forever.
“I can’t stay for dinner. I have to get home.”
“Oh.” Julia sighed with relief. She’d at least have tonight.
>
“Good-bye, Miss Lockwood.” The tone of his voice descended, sounding final and resigned. He hoisted himself back into the wagon and was off before she could think to bid him farewell.
Rachel walked up beside her and jammed her hands on her hips. “Where’s he running off to so fast?”
“He said he wasn’t staying for supper.”
“Hmm.” Rachel wrapped her arm around Julia. “It will just take some time. You’ll be talking marriage any day now.”
Yes. Already. A half hour ago. How she wished she never had to talk about marriage. But that wasn’t an option.
The cool night wind threatened to blow out the lantern in Rachel’s hand, though she shielded the light with her body. She held the door open with her backside and tilted her head toward the barn’s dark interior. “In here.”
Julia pulled her skirts up as she crossed the threshold but didn’t release the fabric. The smell of manure, hay, and mice cautioned her against letting her dress drag on the floor. She could imagine Theodore’s look of disdain if anyone had even suggested that he were to sleep in such a place. She tried to discreetly cover her nose.
A circle of illumination around Rachel closed in around them. “I’m sorry to have to put you here. We’ve had guests find these accommodations not to their liking.” Rachel sighed. “But unlike the boys’ loft, you can stand up without hitting your head. I do so hope you can bear it for a while.”
“Rachel, you told me I’d be out here, and I came anyway. I can handle it.” Julia squeezed Rachel’s upper arm to assure her. To assure herself. The sudden lowing of a cow caused her to jump.
Rachel giggled. “Sure you can.”
“I can.” She had no choice. She loosened her grip on Rachel’s flesh.
Rachel headed to the ladder at the back of the barn, then hitched her skirts and climbed, keeping the lantern extended from her side. “Mornings are still quite brisk in March. It’d be best to sleep in the loft. The air is warmer. Plus, there’s no chance Daisy could wake you with a wet tongue to the face up here.”
“Is Daisy the dog?”
“No, the cow. Dixie’s the dog.”
Julia gathered her skirt material with one hand, stepped up to the first rung, and stopped. “Did the boys put my trunks up top?”
Rachel peered over the edge of the hayloft. “Goodness, no. I forgot. You’ll want to get yourself a nightgown. It’s there in the corner. But I see Ambrose brought the quilts up here like I asked.”
Rachel’s lamp dangled over the edge of the loft, giving Julia enough illumination to find her trunks. But she had to feel the fabrics to find her nightwear. Something small scurried over her shoe, and she rushed back to the ladder, suppressing the childish squeal that bubbled in her throat. Would there be more rodents up there? She had whapped quite a few mice with a broom before, but never in her bedding. A shiver shook her entire frame as she clung to the ladder’s rungs. At the top, she pulled herself and her voluminous skirts onto the straw-littered floor.
“This is the best I can do.” Rachel gestured to a corner. Several quilts spread on top of a flattened pile of hay formed a bed. Shards of moonlight filtered through cracks of the exterior wall.
Julia removed the straw clinging to her skirt. “Really, you needn’t apologize anymore.”
Rachel set the lamp on a box. “I’m sorry.” She covered her mouth, but not quick enough to conceal her amused smile. “I’ll bid you good night, then. Make yourself at home. But don’t fall asleep with this lit. Don’t want a fire.” Rachel walked off into the darkness, but at the ladder, she stopped. “Just so you know, Everett’s coming in the morning to help Dex and William round up calves for branding.”
A few minutes later, the barn door creaked open and slammed. The lamp’s feeble light couldn’t reach the four walls of the barn, and a mouse, perhaps, scampered across the beam above her. Gooseflesh formed on her arms, and she hugged herself. Undressing quickly, Julia laid her crumpled clothing across a pile of hay and slipped into her nightgown. Thinking it unwise to bring the lamp any closer to her sleeping area, she blew out the flame and felt her way to the pile of quilts.
The sound of animals moving and making noise would take getting used to, but they didn’t disturb her sleep—her brain did. How many disparate feelings had coursed through her within so few hours? The feeling of belonging while chatting with Rachel, immediate love for the children, discomfort as she rode beside taciturn Everett. Unrest in her soul. She relived everything she’d done today since she’d awoken, replayed everything she’d had the nerve to say to Everett and the few words he spoke in return, how he sat stiffly on the wagon seat, his sun-darkened face intent on his oxen and his square jaw clamped shut. His dark blond hair flopping with the ruts in the road, intermittently giving her a peek at his eyes, the color of roiling ocean waves during a winter storm. She sighed and rolled over.
Could his disturbingly familiar looks be a sign that she shouldn’t pursue marrying him? She trusted Rachel hadn’t encouraged her to marry a disagreeable man, but what did she really know of him? He didn’t seem drawn to her, he barely spoke, and his proposal sounded more like a work agreement than a marriage.
But wasn’t that exactly the kind of man who would agree to her own proposal?
The corners of the hayloft came into focus with the dawn as Julia shivered under the quilts.
A rooster crowed. Again. She swore he’d been aiming his morning vocal display at her for the last half hour. A dog’s bark made her jump. The barn door creaked.
“Julia?” Rachel’s voice called softly. “Are you awake?”
She moaned despite her teeth chattering.
“I came in as late as possible to let you sleep.”
She pulled the quilt tight around her shoulders before scooting to the edge of the hayloft and leaning against an upright beam. After rubbing her eyes, she focused on Rachel’s cheery face below. “Yes, I’m up. Your chicken woke me.”
“Big Red’s quite good at crowing—won’t let you forget it either.” She walked over to Daisy and seated herself at the cow’s side. “If I’d waited any longer, Daisy here would have woke you with some pitiful lowing.”
Julia tried to make her gravelly voice heard over the sound of liquid spraying metal. “I need to learn how to do that.” No better time to start learning to be a farmer’s wife than now.
Rachel stopped to stare at her. “You’ve never milked a cow?”
Julia shook her head. “City girl. From Boston. Remember?”
“Right.” Rachel returned to her chore. “Didn’t stop to think you hadn’t milked a cow before.”
Julia stood, stretched, and then rushed through changing clothes. She had no brush in the loft to fix her hair, so she settled for finger combing. “I’ll help you.” Climbing down the ladder carrying a lantern and not stepping on her skirts was tricky.
“If you don’t mind, go ahead and take the lantern to the porch. It needs refilling.”
“Of course.” She’d wait and let her help, wouldn’t she? Rachel couldn’t milk a cow that quickly, but the barn door refused to budge. Julia kicked at the bottom corner. If she couldn’t open a simple door, how would Everett believe she could do the work around the farm that needed to be done? Using all her weight, she rocked the door back and forth. With a final push, the bottom hopped over a dirt rut and flew open. Her feet entangled with each other and she tumbled to the moist dirt outside, the lamp rolling from her grasp.
“Whoa, there!” Dex’s hands encircled her upper arms.
She bit her lip as he hoisted her to standing. His face, aglow with suppressed laughter, appeared through the hair obscuring her vision.
With a big puff of air she blew the errant strands away. “The door was stuck.”
Switching the placement of his hands, Dex turned her to face the door. “I saw that, but . . .” He reached around her and took hold of the handle. “If you lift it ever so slightly,” he pushed up a bit and pulled the door toward him, “no tumbling in
the mud required.”
She laughed, but her face still burned. “I’ll have to remember that.” She bent over and grabbed the lantern handle.
“Good.” Dex glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll be right back, Everett.” Dex let himself inside the barn, the door giving him not even a modicum of trouble.
A violent chill traveled the length of her body. She didn’t have enough time to wait for her raging hot face to cool before she would look rude for not acknowledging Everett’s presence.
Prepared to see him laughing at her, she turned, but was surprised at his expression—almost like he was in pain. “Good morning, Everett.” Was he afraid she’d hurt herself? “I’m all right.”
“Good morning, Julia. Good to hear.”
She ducked her head and hurried past him, intent on setting the lamp near the house and then running back to Rachel. She’d known he was coming today, but she thought she’d have plenty of time to ready herself to see him. Ready herself to talk to the man she’d decided she’d marry if he agreed to her terms.
But she wasn’t ready, not yet. Or was she only fooling herself into thinking that she’d ever be ready?
Everett stayed outside the barn, his mild gaze clinging to her back, sending more heat to her face. Would that her reddened cheeks were already hidden on the other side of that barn wall!
She put the lantern on the porch and returned to the barn, hoping she was strong enough to push up effortlessly on the door. She gave him a slight nod and headed past him.
He took a step in front of her before she grabbed the handle and pulled the door open for her. “Let me.”
Rachel’s voice reverberated from the dim interior. “Everett? Here already? I hope you haven’t eaten breakfast.”
“We both know whatever I scrambled up back home wouldn’t keep me from eating whatever you’re offering.”
Julia ducked under his arm and into the barn. She might not know her way around a farm, but she could cook. Perhaps making him breakfast might cause him to think better of her.
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