Farmer's Daughter Romance Collection : Five Historical Romances Homegrown in the American Heartland (9781630586164)

by Peterson, Tracie; Davis, Mary; Hake, Kelly Eileen; Stengl, Jill; Warren, Susan May

  “Because we’ll spend it together?” That’s what made it a good evening to him, after all—sitting close enough to catch the light, fresh scent of roses her hair always carried.

  “No. Well, that, too,” she amended when she saw his chagrin. “I aim to beat you in the shucking competition. My two crates will be the first filled, I promise you.” Her blue eyes sparkled in lighthearted challenge, needling him to answer it.

  “Wi’ these wee little hands?” He made a show of holding one of her dainty hands between his two large, rough ones. “ ’Twill take you twice as long to do half the work, though ’tis certain I am you’ll put forth a grand effort.”

  Ewan didn’t release her hand until she pulled slightly away. Then she surprised him by pressing her soft palm against his calloused one, stretching her fingers as far as they’d go. They both looked at the contrast silently for a moment. His sun-darkened skin and broad digits dwarfed her creamy delicacy.

  “Well”—Rosalind’s soft voice sounded slightly breathless as she turned her gaze to meet his—“there you hae it. ’Tis plain as the very nose on your face that I’ll be the swifter betwixt us.” Her hand exerted a slight, warm pressure against his as though to push him into agreement with her misguided boasting.

  “Nay.” His fingers curled over hers as he shook his head. “There is no arguing wi’ what your eyes surely tell you, lass.”

  “Of course, which is why I’ll win.” She drew her hand away and lifted her chin. “My hands are small and light, so I’ll be able to move more quickly than your large fingers can manage.”

  “We’ll see.” Ewan waited for Dustin Freimont to welcome everyone to the corn husking and ask God’s blessing on the night’s work. He tensed, ready to spring into action as the man officially began the competition.

  Ewan dove into the work with determined zeal, scarcely sparing a glance at Rosalind’s progress. That brief glance was enough to still his hands for a moment as he watched her swift, confident motions add another shucked ear to her already too-full crate. How did she do that?

  He redoubled his efforts, loathe to let her best him after he’d bragged so certainly of his victory. Husks flew through the air and littered the floor in front of them as he increased his frantic pace. Ewan froze in disbelief as Rosalind stood up, signaling that her crates were completely filled. She’d not only defeated him in their private challenge, she’d bested absolutely everyone hard at work inside the walls of the barn!

  She walked up to Dustin and claimed her prize—a finely sewn quilt decorated with colored scraps fashioned into an intricate pattern of interlocking rings. She exclaimed over it, causing an old woman in the far corner to beam with delight.

  “How did you manage that?” he whispered after she sat at his side once more. “Will you share the trick you use?”

  “Ewan Gailbraith!” Rosalind scowled at him in mock disappointment. “How could you think I’ve any sort of trick? ’Tis plain hard work and”—she grinned in victory as she flexed her fingers in a silent display—“skill.”

  “I see I’ve underestimated you, Rosalind.” He leaned close and whispered so only she could hear his next words. “You can be sure that I’ll not be making the same mistake next time.”

  Her pink blush was all the victory he needed as they set back to work. Ewan’s grin only faded when a shadow fell across him and he looked up to find a familiar young man standing before Rosalind, legs splayed, jaw set belligerently. He remembered the slight young fellow as Marlene’s older brother but had an inkling he’d be remembering him differently soon.

  “Rose,” the youth addressed her with maddening informality, and Ewan had to remind himself that they’d probably grown up together, and thus it was an appropriate address. “Why don’t you come over and sit with Marlene and myself?” He extended his hand to her, overconfident that she’d take him up on the offer.

  “Brent, I’m quite comfortable here.” Rosalind spoke kindly but firmly enough that the lad should have accepted her words.

  “Rose”— Brent leaned closer and spoke in a low tone that carried plain as day—“you needn’t feel obligated to sit near strangers out of a misplaced sense of politeness. Come sit with me and mine, where you belong.” Now. This last wasn’t said aloud, but came across as strongly as if it had been trumpeted.

  Ewan got to his feet, unwilling to let the stripling order his Rosalind about or attempt to stake a claim to her affection. He needn’t have made the effort. Rosalind fixed Brent with an outraged stare and crossed her arms as a further barrier.

  “Brent Freimont, ’tis not your place to decide where I belong. And ’tis angered I am to hear you label me as one of yours, as though I were a prize sow displayed at the fair.”

  Realizing his error too late, Brent stammered an apology.

  “I appreciated your kind invitation, Brent”—Rosalind gentled her scowl but kept her tone disapproving—“but when I politely expressed disinterest, you should have behaved like a gentleman and respected my decision rather than try to force your way.”

  “Yes, Rose.” The boy made a swift bow and retreated back to where the rest of his family sat, obviously watching them all with an avid curiosity—and a hint of apprehension, as well.

  Ewan returned his focus to where it belonged—Rosalind. She looked up at him, half-chagrined over the scene, half-defying him to question the way she’d handled the issue.

  He sat beside her, moving as close as was decent, and gave voice to his opinion. “It seems as though I’m not the only one to underestimate you, Rosalind.” He fingered the silken end of her braid to show support. “I’m only glad I’ll have the chance to rectify that.”

  Men. Rosalind viciously ripped off another corn husk and threw it down before reaching for the next one. Bad enough that Ewan discomfits me so, but to hae Brent saunter up and try to stake a claim as though I hae no say in the matter…Ugh. Incredible!

  “Which do you prefer, the apple bee or the corn shucking?” Ewan’s question broke through her thoughts as though he knew what she was thinking. He waited patiently for her answer.

  “Neither.” Rose gave in to the contrary mood. “My favorite gathering is the sugaring-off. ’Tis the most fun and tasty.”

  “Sugaring-off? I’d the notion ’twas only done in Vermont or such.”

  “No, we’ve sugar maples here, as well.” Rose took a shallow breath. “We don’t harvest the sap until February. I suppose the railroad will hae moved on long before that.” It was as close as she could come to asking what he planned for the future.

  Will he continue to work for the rail lines, and take me wi’ him to see all America? Excitement surged at the idea, even as her heart sank. Could I leave Mam and Da and Luke behind if I knew ’twould be forever?

  Intent upon harvesting some clue from Ewan’s answer, she peeked at his face from the corner of her eye. They both continued divesting ears of corn of their husks.

  “Aye.” The single syllable came out forced, and Rosalind saw a shadow pass over his countenance. He said no more, and she did not press the matter.

  Lord, I’ve always wanted to travel the length and breadth of the nation. All the same, I yearned for that adventure with certain knowledge of everyone here waiting to welcome my return. I always thought to settle nearby when I finally wed. It never occurred to me that the man I marry might hae different ideas. Now ’tis far too soon to press Ewan about the matter, but ’twill have to be addressed sometime. Give me the wisdom to handle my doubts and find peace in the path You place before me.

  “Rosalind?” Ewan rose to his feet. “Would you fancy a drink o’ water?” He gestured toward the large bucket.

  “Aye.” She smiled her thanks, relieved to see no sign of the shadow from earlier. He behaved as an attentive suitor should and now ’twas the time to take note of such fine qualities. No sense borrowing trouble, as Da would say.

  She reached for another ear and peeled back some of the crisp green cover. A flash of deep red peeked out, an
d she covered it immediately.

  Oh no! She could feel herself flushing a shade to rival the red corn. I’ll not kiss Ewan in front of the whole town! He’ll be back in a moment.

  She looked about for Marlene. Rosalind had passed any red ears to her bolder best friend for years now. But Marlene sat next to Johnny—and Brent—across the way. Oh bother.

  As Ewan shouldered his way back into view, Rosalind debated what to do. Would she dare slip the red ear into his pile? No. ’Twould still mean sharing their first kiss before everyone she ever knew. As Ewan stopped to say something to a man she didn’t recognize, Rosalind dropped the ear and kicked it under the bench behind her skirts.

  Ewan gave her an odd look as he handed her a tin of water, and she hastily gulped some to cover her unease. She smiled brightly and patted the bench beside her. Rosalind breathed a tiny sigh of relief as he settled onto the seat and began to share stories from his years working for the railroad.

  “Now, I’ll not be telling you all these are true, but men in the railroad camps hae been swapping stories for years. Some o’ the tales sound reasonable enough to keep telling.”

  “Do you know any funny stories?” Rosalind asked. “I’ve heard about the wrecks, and those make me sad.”

  “Nay.” Ewan shook his head. “Those are warnings, not tales to be shared when a man sits beside a pretty lass.”

  His smile made her flush once again.

  “I’ll tell you a legend about one spendthrift builder and the clever foreman who outwitted him.”

  “That sounds good.” She straightened. “Let’s hear it.”

  “There was a builder named Mr. Hill, who kept a tight fist around the finances.” Ewan’s own fist tightened around the hapless ear of corn he’d just finished shucking. “He disapproved mightily of anything that could be seen as at all wasteful. Well, one day he was walking along the tracks, inspecting the work, and he spotted something in the dirt. Sure enough, he’d found a new rail spike lying deserted in the roadbed. Outraged, he stomped off to take the section foreman to task for such carelessness. They didn’t have spikes to throw away.”

  “What a horrible man.” Rosalind shuddered. “I’d hate to be that poor foreman, having to answer to that. What happened to him?”

  “The quick-thinking foreman saw him coming, spotted the spike, and rushed to meet the builder. He hurries up to the man, stands tall, and says, ‘Thank goodness you found that spike, Mr. Hill. I’ve had three men looking for it for nearly a week!’ ”

  Rosalind burst out laughing, only speaking when she finally caught her breath. “Oh, that’s a good one. Should have taught that Mr. Hill a lesson. I’d like to think that really happened.”

  “Me, too.” Ewan chuckled. “Can’t you just picture the builder’s expression? He probably gaped like a caught fish.”

  “Most likely,” Rosalind agreed. “Tell another one, please! Out here we so rarely hear things like that. We just get news.”

  “Hmm.” Ewan thought for a moment. “I could hae another story or so to coax a smile. ’Tis a grand reward for so little.”

  “Flatterer.” Rosalind waggled a finger at him. “Fewer fulsome compliments and more humorous stories. I enjoy those more.”

  “All right.” He took a moment, looking as though he enjoyed holding her interest. “Out in California, a railroad agent once got yelled at over doing things wi’out waiting for his orders to trickle down from faraway headquarters, as he should hae done. Then came a day, not long after, when the boss at headquarters received an urgent telegram from that selfsame agent: ‘Grizzly bear on platform hugging conductor. Please wire instructions.’ ”

  “No!” Rosalind’s hands stilled as she looked up in shock. “Never tell me he waited afore helping that poor conductor!”

  “I’m sure he took care of it before he ever sent the telegram,” Ewan soothed. “The man was just trying to make a point. If he waited for official orders before doing everything, nothing would ever get done in time to do good.”

  “Well, in that case…” Rosalind relaxed. “If he kept his job, ’twas a rather clever way to argue his side of the matter.”

  “Aye, that’s my thought, too.” Ewan reached back for a mighty stretch and Rosalind, slightly more cautious since finding a red ear, peeled back a small section of husk as a safeguard.

  Another gash of red blazed forth, and she hurriedly reached for another. As she grasped another ear, she let the red one roll off her lap. As before, she inconspicuously kicked it beneath the bench. Only this time, she kicked too hard. At the thud of the ear hitting the barn wall, Ewan looked back at her.

  “What was that?” He looked around for the sound’s source.

  “Nothing.” The word came out sounding as flustered as she felt. “You know, I’m starting to get a bit peckish.” She hopped up. “Would you like me to fetch you an apple while I’m up?”

  “Aye,” he looked at her strangely. “A green one, please.”

  With a too-bright smile, she headed for the tables, selected two shiny apples, and went back. Before sitting on the bench, she looked down. It wouldn’t do to slip on one of those pesky red ears she’d let drop. Wouldn’t do at all.

  There were no ears on the floor. Startled, she glanced up at a beaming Ewan. In each of his upraised hands lay one of the red ears.

  “Oooh!” A swell of raucous calls filled Ewan’s senses as people took note of the two ears he held up for all to see.

  “Who’s your lucky lady, Gailbraith?” one of the men called out. “Let her know now so she can run away!”

  “I know who he’ll choose!” Johnny bellowed. Beside him, Marlene was beaming and casting Rosalind knowing looks.

  Rosalind, for her part, had turned as petal pink as her namesake flower and sat down as though her knees had given out. She couldn’t have looked any more enticing had she tried.

  Though he thought it impossible, Ewan’s grin widened. I knew I saw her hiding something behind her skirts. Sure enough, when she’d gone to fetch the apples, he’d found two partly unhusked ears of corn. Red ears. The thought of her squirreling away kisses charmed him. His Rosalind wouldn’t hold up the red ear in triumph and boldly claim her forfeit. Instead, she clumsily hid the evidence.

  Good thing I’m not shy. Ewan clasped Rosalind’s hand and purposefully drew her to her feet. Her eyes, impossibly wide, shone with a beguiling mix of anxiety and anticipation.

  “There’s only one woman I’ve eyes”—Ewan waved one of the cobs of corn—“or ears for.” Resisting the urge to hold her close, Ewan kept her hand in his and leaned forward to press a chaste kiss on her soft lips. After the barest moment—a moment far too short, to his way of thinking—he drew back.

  Amid the stares and cheers of the crowd, Rosalind held his gaze and raised her hand to gently touch her lips. The gesture nearly made Ewan reach for her again, but he saw the moment when she remembered the whole town watched her reaction.

  Ewan addressed the crowd, diverting their attention from Rosalind as best he could. “ ’Tis the truth, no man could ask for more than that.” He held up the second red ear and pretended to consider it. “Now then, since I’ve experienced perfection, ’twould be churlish of me to deny another the same opportunity.”

  At his words, it seemed as though every man in the barn stood and shouted to be chosen. Ewan made a show of considering whom he’d pass the second red ear to before tossing it to Johnny. Envious groans shook the barn clear to the rafters.

  As though I’d give it to some other man who’d choose my Rosalind. And honestly, any other man would be daft to choose another girl. Johnny, enamored of Marlene as he is, was the only safe choice.

  And Johnny made the most of his good fortune, bussing Marlene with more enthusiasm than grace. With everyone’s attention turned to the other couple, Ewan and Rosalind sank back onto their bench. Their moment of excitement had ended.

  “Thief.” Rosalind whispered the indictment under her breath and out of the corner of her mouth. All t
he same, her eyes held no matching reproach to make him regret taking action.

  “Sneak,” Ewan muttered back, grinning at her resulting gasp.

  Long seconds stretched between them before she answered. “Aye,” she admitted, biting back an impish smile.

  “Aye.” Ewan shouldered a bit closer, beginning to regret his gift to Johnny. “You know what that makes the two of us?”

  “What?” The question in her eyes seemed less lighthearted.

  “It makes us”—Ewan spoke seriously, to let her know he meant what he said—“a likely pair.”

  Chapter 10

  Is it true that the railroad will be moving on soon?” Marlene burst out with the question almost the instant Ewan and Johnny sat down for their pre-dinner-rush meal. “You’ve not even been here a month! Surely this type of haste isn’t typical?”

  Although Rosalind wouldn’t have chosen to handle the issue in this manner, she shared Marlene’s worries about whether the railroad would take their beaus away with it. She looked at Ewan, careful to school her features into a neutral expression. Whatever his decision—whether he stayed for winter or left now with plans of returning later—she planned on supporting it.

  “Yes, sugar-pie.” Johnny looked every bit as miserable as Marlene at the prospect of leaving. “We’ve lingered a bit long to enjoy the comforts of home-cooking and pretty smiles, so the foreman tells us we won’t be able to delay any longer. Camp will be moved a good thirty miles away. We’ve no choice.”

  “Thirty miles!” Marlene sank down onto the nearest bench, tears dotting her pale eyelashes. “Can’t they at least hold off until after Thanksgiving? That’s only a few days away!”

  “They say they won’t risk losing our impressive pace.” Ewan shook his head. “Though ’tis bound to slow. Tomorrow we head out.”

  “Why didn’t they give us a warning?” Rosalind’s firm resolve not to complain melted in the face of such an immediate separation. She bit her lip.