by Peterson, Tracie; Davis, Mary; Hake, Kelly Eileen; Stengl, Jill; Warren, Susan May
Myles lowered one brow. “What makes you say that?”
Antonio waved at the starry sky. “I read it in the stars? But maybe the stars, they are in a young lady’s eyes.” He laughed and patted Myles’s arm. “You will have joy, Red. Gina and I, we will remember you and your Beulah in our prayers each night. Remember what I say about forgiveness—I know this from living it, you see. Don’t imagine you are alone. Everyone has choices in life. Think of Beulah—you cannot offer her an unforgiving heart. The poison in you would harm her.”
The man was like a flea for persistence. Nodding, Myles pretended to ignore the stinging words. “You will write to me? I live in Longtree, the next town over.”
“I not write so good, but Gina will do it. Maybe when the season ends, we come to see you and your little wife.”
Myles smiled and hugged the smaller man’s shoulders. “Thank you, Antonio. You have given me much-needed encouragement.”
Buck met the tired travelers in front of the barn and helped unhitch the horses. “Why are you up so late, Papa? Is Mama still awake?” Eunice asked sleepily.
“Mama and Daniel are asleep. Get ready for bed quietly, children. Go on with you now.” Buck shooed his flock toward the house. “We’ve got church in the morning.”
“Thank you, Al. Thank you, Myles. It was a wonderful circus,” Beulah paused to say. Her eyes reflected the surrey’s sidelamps.
“You’re welcome,” they each replied.
“See you at church,” Al called after her. “May I come pick you up?”
Myles jumped. That would be a sign of serious courtship. Hidden in the shadows behind the surrey, he gritted his teeth and braced himself for her reply.
“Thank you for the offer, but no, I’ll see you there,” Beulah’s voice floated back. “Good night.”
Al smacked a harness strap over its peg and tugged his hat down over his eyes. Without a word, he led his horse from its stall and saddled up. Myles felt a pang of sympathy for his friend.
Buck finished caring for the team while Myles saddled his mare. “Got a job for you Monday,” Buck said.
“What’s that?” Myles asked.
“We got two pasture fence posts snapped off; musta been rotted below ground level. I found Mo among our cows. He may be only a yearling, but he’s all bull. I propped up the fence well enough to hold him temporarily; but we’ve got to replace those posts soon.”
“I’ll run the materials out there,” Al promised.
“And I’ll fix the fence,” Myles said.
Chapter 3
Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil speaking, be put away from you, with all malice.
EPHESIANS 4:31
Clutching a novel under one arm, Beulah peeked into her mother’s room. “I’ll be at the pond if you need me, Mama.”
Bent over the cradle, Violet finished tucking Daniel’s blanket around his feet. Straightening, she turned to smile at her daughter. “Enjoy yourself, honey. Would you bring in green beans for supper tonight? Samuel caught a dozen bluegill this morning, and beans would be just the thing to go with fried fish.”
“He’s getting to be quite a fisherman,” Beulah observed. “Whatever will we do when school starts up and we lose our provider? You’re right, beans sound delicious—or they would if I were hungry. Is Papa around, or did he go into town today?”
Violet led the way downstairs. “He went to help Myles repair the fence the bull broke. Which reminds me…I know it’s asking a lot of you, dear, but would you be willing to carry water to the men? They’re way out at that northwest pasture beyond the stream.”
Beulah followed her mother into the parlor. “Of course I will, Mama. I’m going out anyway.”
“You’re a dear! You might take along some of those cookies you baked.”
Beulah felt slightly guilty about her mother’s gratitude, since her motive was not entirely altruistic. “That’s a good idea. If I hurry, I’ll still have time to read a chapter or two.”
Violet settled into a chair and picked up her mending. “Darling, I want you to know that I’ve noticed your efforts to be cheerful and kind, and so has Papa Obie. You’re my precious girl—I want other people to see and appreciate your beautiful spirit along with your pretty face.”
“Do you really think I’m pretty, Mama?” Beulah tried to see her reflection in the window. “Everyone says I look like my real father, and he was homely. At least, I remember him as kind of ungainly and bony with big teeth.”
“You have your father’s coloring and his gorgeous brown eyes. Your teeth may be a bit crooked, yet they are white and healthy. You have matured this past year, and I think you must have noticed that boys find you attractive. Al certainly does.”
Beulah looked down at her figure. “I guess so. I wonder why men are attracted by a woman’s shape. When you think about it, we’re kind of funny looking.”
Violet laughed. “Trust you to say something like that! As for me, I’m thankful that men find women attractive and vice versa. It makes life interesting.”
“So it isn’t wrong for a girl to enjoy looking at a man?”
“Wrong? Of course not,” Violet answered absently. “I enjoy looking at my husband.”
“When a girl is interested in a man, what is the best way for her to let him know it?” Beulah perched on the edge of the sofa. “A subtle way, I mean. Without actually saying so.”
Violet looked at the ceiling, touching her needle to her lips. “Hmm. Subtle. How about meeting his gaze and smiling? A touch on his arm, perhaps. Touching can be hazardous, however. A lady doesn’t want to touch a man too much or he will lose respect for her.”
Beulah’s lower lip protruded and her brows lowered as a certain memory of a clinging blond recurred. Her mother’s advice seemed faulty. A shy man like Myles might be different. He might prefer a woman who took the initiative. “How does a lady know if a man returns her interest?”
Violet’s lips twitched. “She will know. Most men are straightforward.”
“But how will she know for certain? If a man stares at a girl, does that mean he is interested?”
“That depends on the stare.” Violet frowned. “Who has been staring at you?”
“It’s a respectful gaze. Don’t worry.” She hopped to her feet. “Thank you, Mama. I’d better hurry before the day is gone.”
Although she took a shortcut through a stretch of forest, the trek to the back pasture was more arduous than Beulah had anticipated. She crossed Samuel’s log bridge over the brook, then hiked up the steep bank, nearly dropping the water jug once.
“Why did I think this was such a good idea?” she grouched, hoisting the jug on her hip. “I’ll be a sweaty mess again before he sees me.” Mosquitoes and deerflies hummed around her head, dodging when she slapped at them. Her arms ached until they felt limp, and her feet burned inside her boots.
Through the trees she caught sight of Papa Obie’s mustang Jughead and open pastureland beyond him. The horse’s patches of white reflected sunshine as he grazed. Wherever Jughead was, Beulah was certain to find Obie nearby.
Sure enough, there were Obie and Myles, ramming a new post into a hole. Both men had removed their shirts; their damp undervests gaped open to reveal sweaty chests. Suspenders held up faded denim trousers, and battered hats shaded their eyes.
“Hello,” she greeted, picking her way between stumps. “I brought water and cookies.”
“Beulah!” Obie straightened. “You’re an angel of mercy. We’ve needed a drink yet hated to stop before we finished this post.” He exchanged a glance with Myles. “Let’s take a break.” Myles nodded, and the two men sat on nearby stumps.
Wiping his face with a red kerchief, Obie drained the dipper in one long draught. “Thanks.”
Beulah’s hands trembled as she handed Myles the dipper. Hazel eyes glinted in his dusty face. He, too, poured the water down his throat and wiped his mustache with the back of one hand. “Thank you.”
“More?”
Each man accepted two more drinks, and the jug felt much lighter. Then they gobbled up her molasses cookies. “These are delicious, Beulah…but then your cookies always are,” Obie said.
She peeked at Myles to see if he agreed. “My favorite.” He lifted a half-eaten cookie.
Satisfied, she settled upon a low stump near Obie’s feet and arranged her skirts. “How much longer must you work in this heat? Is this the last post?”
“Yes. Once we brace this post and attach the crossbeams, we’ll be done. Nasty work.” Obie shook his head, betraying a former cowboy’s natural aversion to fences. “Myles did most of it before I got here. Planned that well, didn’t I?” He grinned at the hired man, and Myles acknowledged the teasing with a smile.
“Ready?”
Myles nodded, and the two returned to their work.
Beulah stayed. Myles never spoke to her, but several times she caught his eye and smiled. He did not smile back. Her heart sank. He is in love with Miss Obermeier! Whatever shall I do?
“Beulah, would you bring me the hammer?”
She hurried to comply.
“If you would hand me that spike…” Obie requested next.
This time she hovered. “May I help?”
“Not now,” Obie puffed. “Better stay back.”
Myles lifted the rails into place and Obie hammered in the spikes. The hair on the hired man’s forearms and chest was sun-bleached. Sweaty hair curling from beneath his hat held auburn glints. His trousers bagged around slim hips.
From this close range Beulah could locate his ribs and shoulder blades. Sinews protruded in his neck and chest as his muscles strained. When Mama was pregnant with Daniel, Beulah once sneaked a peek at a human anatomy book in the doctor’s office. Myles might have posed for the model of muscles and bones, so many of them were visible beneath his skin.
He glanced up; Beulah looked away, too late. Her body already dripped sweat; now she burned on the inside. What must he think of me, staring at him like a hussy? She strolled away, fanning her apron up and down. Grasshoppers fled buzzing before her.
When the last rail was in place, Beulah helped the men gather their tools. Obie loaded his saddlebags. “Thanks again, Myles.” He swung into Jughead’s saddle. A wisp of grass dangled from the gelding’s mouth. “Will you see Beulah home, then check on Cyrus Thwaite for me? He hasn’t been eating well since his wife died, and I want to make sure he’s all right.”
“Yes, sir, I will.”
Obie’s silvery eyes smiled, and one brow arched. “You two take your time. Behave yourselves.”
Now what did he mean by that? Beulah wondered.
Jughead sprang into motion, hurdling brush and stumps in his way. Within moments he had disappeared from view.
Beulah looked at Myles. “Why didn’t you bring a horse? I thought cowboys preferred to ride. Or are you really a clown?” she tried to tease.
Wiping one sleeve across his forehead, he clapped on his hat. Every inch of exposed skin glistened red-brown, and his undervest was sopping. Though he was pleasing to behold, Beulah tried to remain upwind.
“First a clown, then a cowboy, now a farmer.” One grimy hand began to rub his belly. “No point in making a horse stand around while I work. The boss was in town this morning; he needed a horse.”
“Don’t forget your shirt.” She scooped it up and held it out.
“Thanks.” He slung it over his shoulder and picked up her water jug.
He wouldn’t even meet her eyes. Beulah’s temper rose. “You don’t need to escort me home. You must be tired.” She picked up her book.
“Let’s cut through Mo’s pasture.”
Not twenty yards down the sloping pasture, placidly chewing his cud, lay Mo. Shading her eyes, Beulah cast a wary glance at the dormant bull. “Is it safe?”
“He knows me.” Myles bent to step through the fence rails. “Come on.”
She slipped through the fence easily enough, but her skirt caught on a splinter and Myles had to release it. Beulah kept glancing toward Mo. The bull watched them walk across his field. Slowly he began to rise, back end first.
“Myles, he’s getting up!” Beulah caught hold of Myles’s arm.
He looked down at her hand on his arm, then back at the yearling Jersey.
Clutching his arm, she let Myles direct her steps and kept both eyes on the bull. Mo began to follow them, trotting over the rough ground.
“Any cookies left?” Myles asked.
“Some broken ones. Why?”
“Mo likes sweets. Don’t be frightened, child. He’s too small to harm you.”
Child!
When the bull approached to within a few yards, it bawled, and Beulah let out a yelp. “Here, give him the cookies!” She shoved the sack into Myles’s hands, then cowered behind him. The man’s cotton undervest was damp beneath her hands, but the solid feel of him was reassuring. Beulah could hear her own heartbeat.
Myles extended a piece of cookie. “Come and get it, Li’l Mo. You’ve had your fun, scaring Beulah. Now show her what a good fellow you are.”
Shaking his head, the young bull pawed the ground and gave a feinting charge. Myles held his ground. Mo stretched toward the cookie, nostrils twitching. When the bull accepted the treat, Myles took hold of the brass ring in its nose. “Good lad.” He stroked Mo’s neck and scratched around the animal’s ears. “This is one fine little bull.”
Beulah began to relax, peeking around Myles’s shoulder. “I can’t believe he was once a tiny calf. Samuel named him ‘Moo-moo.’ Remember that day when my mother drove us to your farm—Al’s farm—by mistake? Or were you there that day?”
“I was there. I helped deliver this fellow that very morning.” With a farewell pat for Mo, Myles turned to Beulah. “I remember how cross you looked that day. You’ve got a pretty smile, but your pout is like nothing I’ve ever seen.” His grin showed white through his beard.
Beulah gaped, hands dangling. She took a step back and tucked her hands under her elbows. “I—I was not cross; I was worried.”
“With your lip sticking out and your eyes stormy, just like now.” His hat shaded his face, yet Beulah caught the glint in his eyes.
She covered her mouth with one hand, conscious of her overbite. Eyes burning, she turned and picked up the water jug. If Myles knew how she felt about him, he would laugh, and the whole town would know about Beulah’s infatuation within days. Marva would regard her with pity and mild amusement.
“Are you all right, Beulah?” Myles took two steps in her direction. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“I’m not angry; I’m hot.” Water sloshed in the jug. Beulah eyed the sweaty man. “You look hotter.” Without pausing for reflection, she dashed the water into his face.
Water dripped from his nose and beard and trickled down his chest. “Did I deserve that?”
He didn’t seem angry. A nervous giggle escaped before Beulah could stop it. “You needed a bath.”
His eyes flared, and Beulah knew she had better get moving. Picking up her skirts, she dashed for the fence, intending to vanish into the forest. But an arm caught her around the waist. “Not so fast.” Without further ceremony he tossed her over his shoulder and picked up the empty jar. Her book flew into the tall grass.
“What are you doing?” she gasped. “Put me down!” He surmounted the fence without apparent difficulty and headed into the woods.
Beulah found it hard to breathe while hanging head down over his shoulder, and her stomach muscles were too weak to lift her upper body for long. In order to draw a good breath she had to put both hands on his back and push herself up. “Myles, a gentleman doesn’t treat a lady this way! Please put me down. This is…improper,” she protested. The grasp of his arm around her legs was disturbing, the solid strength of his shoulder beneath her stomach even more so. There was a roaring in her ears.
“Very well.” He hefted her and flung her from him. Beulah fell with splayed arms an
d horrified expression only to land with a great splash. She had enough presence of mind to shut her mouth before water closed over her head.
Flailing her arms, she managed to right herself, but her face barely cleared the surface when she stood on the rocky bottom. The source of the roaring sound was now clear: the stream poured into this little pool over a lip of rock suspended twelve feet above the surface. The churning water tugged at Beulah’s billowing skirts, and bubbles tickled her arms.
“How dare you!” she gasped, sudden fury choking her. “I could have drowned!”
An exaggeration, but the sharpest accusation she could think of at the moment. She had to shout for him to hear her.
Myles stood above her, his boots planted wide, arms folded on his chest. Dapples of sunlight played across his hat and shoulders. “It’s not deep,” he protested. “I swim here often.” His smile was infuriating.
“I can’t swim with my boots and clothes on,” she blurted, then choked on a mouthful of water. “You…you monster! You are no gentleman!”
“I had not observed you behaving like a lady.”
“Ooooh!”
Desperate for revenge, she thrashed over to the steep bank and reached for his boots. One frenzied hop and she caught hold around his ankles. No matter how hard she tugged, he remained unmoved. She paused, gasping for air. “Where are we? I’ve never seen this place.”
“Just over half a mile above the beaver pond. The waterfall made this hole, perfect for swimming. It’s one of my favorite places on earth.”
Beulah tried to look over her shoulder at the lacy waterfall, but her bedraggled sunbonnet blocked her view. Hoping to catch Myles unaware, she gave his feet another sharp jerk, lost her grip, and slid back into the pool. Sputtering with fury, she surfaced again, arms thrashing. Her teeth chattered, although the water was not terribly cold. “Help me out of here!”
He frowned, considering, then removed his hat and boots. After stacking his garments well out of Beulah’s reach, he dove into the pool and disappeared.
Beulah let out another little screech, then scanned the pool for him with narrowed eyes. He should pay for this outrage.