Читать книгу Courting Miss Callie - Dorothy Clark - Страница 13

Chapter Five

Callie clutched the hastily assembled bundle in her arms and hurried down the path. If she were quick enough, she could climb into the shay before Ezra could secure the basket on the shelf in back and come around to assist her. Since it was certain he would. The man’s manners were faultless. But, after this morning, she was leery of letting him hand her into the vehicle. Not that he’d done anything wrong. Far from it.

She laid the bundle on the seat, gripped the dashboard, placed her booted foot on the small iron rung and stepped up. Ezra’s actions had been innocent enough—even heroic, saving her from a possible burn. And he had made no attempt to take advantage of the situation—as her wealthy suitors would have done. For that she was grateful. Still, the thought of her hand in his was unsettling. The man made her nervous. Which was odd, since she had no such reaction to the wealthy men courting her. Indeed, she had become quite adept at escaping their advances without causing offense. Her father had cautioned that she was not to offend the suitors he permitted to call. After all, it might lower their bid for her hand.

The bitter thought stole the luster from the sunny day. She frowned, shook out her long skirts, settled herself and lifted the bundle onto her lap. The shay trembled as the weight of the basket hit the shelf and the attached straps were tugged tight around it. Ezra’s boots crunched on the gravel. A flutter rippled through her stomach. She stole a sidelong glance as he stepped to the hitching post. There was no sign of a limp. And the swelling on his head was gone—though the scab of the healing gash was visible at his crown. What was the truth about Ezra Ryder? He was no more a logger than she. Why did he lie? He turned toward the shay, the freed reins held in his hand, and she jerked her gaze from him. Heat crept into her cheeks. And of what concern were Ezra Ryder’s doings to her? She had troubles enough of her own to ponder. She straightened in the seat and pulled her burnoose close about her.

The vehicle dipped left as Ezra stepped up, ducked beneath the hood and took his seat. His shoulder brushed against hers. She scooted as far right as possible in the narrow space and looked straight ahead, wishing that Sophia had ordered the carriage brought around instead of the smaller shay.

“Ready?”

She glanced over and met Ezra’s smiling gaze. Another flutter tickled her stomach. She must have been feeling more confined since her arrival than she realized if the prospect of a simple ride to the country brought such a reaction. She pressed the bundle hard against her abdomen to stop the sensation and nodded. “Yes.”

He made a clicking sound and shook the reins. Star moved forward and the shay rolled along the graveled way to the entrance to Main Street and stopped. “You’ll have to direct me, Callie. All I know of Pinewood is the wooden walkway between Cargrave’s Mercantile and your aunt’s hotel.”

She looked away from his smile. There was something of the little boy in it that made her want to trust him, and she’d trust a liar as far as a pig could fly. “We go left, then turn right onto Oak Street.” She gestured across the road a short way up Main Street from the hotel. “It’s there, beyond the gazebo.”

A wagon loaded with bundles of thick, wood shingles rumbled by, headed toward Olville. She held herself immobile as Ezra flicked the reins and urged Star out onto Main Street in the wagon’s wake.

Olville. In the concern and bustle over Charlotte, she’d forgotten about Sophia’s trip. Relief stole the tension from her body. Sophia would not be going to Olville today, and the Citizen was only printed on Fridays. She was safe for another week.

Star’s hooves thudded against the drying mud of the roadbed. The shay swayed around the corner onto Oak Street, rumbled past the gazebo in the park on the corner. She shifted her gaze to the left side of the street, spotted the Hall home ahead and smiled. She’d spent a lot of time in that house when she was young. She and Willa and Sadie coming to play with Ellen—or to get Ellen to come off on an adventure with them. Her smile turned into a sigh. So much had changed. Sadie had moved to Rochester. She now lived in Buffalo. And Ellen was in Buffalo, too, staying with her Aunt Berdena. But they had little in common now, only their memories. Ellen was after a rich husband and loved every minute of the social whirl, coveting the attentions of the wealthy men drawn by her blonde beauty. She was welcome to them. Including Jacob Strand. Especially Jacob Strand. The man was beyond—

“There’s a bell hanging on the porch of that small building. Is that a schoolhouse?”

She started, drawn out of her thoughts by Ezra’s question. “Yes, it is. My friend, Willa, was the schoolmarm until a few months ago.”

He looked her way. “She lost her position?”

“She got married.” Amusement rippled through her. Willa, who had trusted neither men nor God and vowed she would never marry, was the first of the four of them to do so. Matthew Calvert had come to pastor Pinewood Church, and his love and lopsided grin had brought the wall of defense around her friend’s heart crashing down as surely as the walls of Jericho had tumbled at a shout. Now, Willa was Matthew’s wife and mother to his charges—the young son and daughter of his late brother.

Envy rose, fastened a choking grip on her heart. She was happy for Willa, truly she was. But, oh how she wished she could marry a man like Matthew. An honest man who would love her for herself. Not one of the rich men who took one look at her and professed undying love. Liars! They didn’t even know her. If they did, they would know she was not impressed by their wealth or their arrogant boastings and would not be bought. Pain shot up her arm. She glanced down. Her fingers were buried in the bundle of old sheeting. She took a slow breath and relaxed her grip, dipped her head toward the dirt road that wound up the hill on their left. “We’ll turn here.”

* * *

Ezra looked from the spidery shadows on the dirt road to the bare limbs of the huge trees that cast them. What a beautiful, shaded lane this would be in the summer. Too bad he wouldn’t be around to enjoy a ride with Callie then.

He lowered his gaze, shifted it to the right. The rough ride over the rain-gouged gullies in the road had shaken Callie’s hood back a bit, exposing her exquisite profile. He had a sudden urge to make her look at him, talk to him. She’d been quiet since they’d left the village. “It’s a nice day. The sun is quite cheering, though there’s still a chill to the air.”

“Yes.” She glanced his way, then tugged her hood forward.

He frowned and shifted his gaze back to the road. Polite and brief. Clearly, Callie did not care to engage in conversation with him. Why? Was it her initial suspicion of him? Or had she sensed his intent this morning when he’d thought about kissing her? His tenacious side reared, formed a list of questions she would have to answer with more than a yes or no. He wasn’t a successful businessman because he backed away from a tough opponent. And the first step to making a fair and beneficial deal was to get your adversary to talk with you. He tugged gently on the right rein turning Star into the sharp curve ahead. “This road is getting pretty bad. How much farther do we have to go?”

“I don’t— Oh!”

Callie bumped hard against him as they rounded the curve and the front wheels dropped into a wide washout running diagonally across the road. He shot his arm out to brace her as Star lunged forward and the shay rocked up and over the other edge.

“Whoa, Star!” The shay shuddered to a halt. He dropped the reins and twisted toward Callie, their faces almost touching in the small enclosed area beneath the hood. His heart jolted against his ribs. “Are you all right?” He searched her face, looked into her eyes. So close...

She gave a little nod, and the death grip she had on his arm released. He sucked in air, drew back and worked to get his pulse under control as she straightened and slid as far as possible toward her side of the seat. She turned her head toward him. Her gaze fastened on his, but shifted away before he could read her expression.

“Once again, I must thank you, Ezra. That is the second time today you have saved me from possible harm.”

“No thanks are needed.” Her violet-blue gaze touched his again, then slid away.

“Nonetheless, I appreciate your thoughtfulness, and your...concern for my well-being.”

Her soft voice held an undercurrent he could not decipher. He rose and backed out of the shay, away from temptation. “I’ll just check for any damage, and then we’ll be on our way.” He glanced at the wheels, ducked down to look over the undercarriage, then walked to her side and did the same.

She leaned out and turned her face toward him. “It’s a good thing you strapped the basket down tight. There would be a frightful mess if the lid had come off the pot of stew.”

His lips quirked. It had taken an almost accident, but at last she had addressed him voluntarily. “Not to mention the waste of your excellent cooking.” He ran his hand along a spoke of the wheel to keep himself from stepping forward and kissing her.

“Is anything broken?”

“It doesn’t appear so. I believe it’s safe to go on.”

“It shouldn’t be far. Aunt Sophia said the Deering farm is the first one on this road.”

Her voice held a different tone. He straightened and looked at her. She smiled. A genuine, friendly smile that was unbelievably sweet—not at all like the heretofore cool and polite curve of the lips she’d given him. And her eyes, her incredibly beautiful violet-blue eyes, had lost their guarded look. There was a warmth, a trust in their steady gaze. It was tentative to be sure, but it was there. What had changed? No matter. The change was something to build on. He’d figure out the reason for it later. He brushed his hands free of dirt and gave her a wry grin. “I’ll try not to wreck the shay and spill the stew before we get there.”

He’d not heard her laugh before. It was like music. Lord, I don’t know what the future holds. But, whatever it is, please, let me never disappoint this woman.

He walked back around to his side, climbed in and urged Star forward, keeping a tight rein on the growing wish to take the sweetness that was Callie Conner into his arms.

* * *

Ezra carried the cot and blankets into the barn, went back into the equipment room and brought out the tonsorial case and his jacket. He snatched the broom from where it stood propped in the corner and went back inside and destroyed the cobwebs clinging to the beams in the ceiling. The thought of a spider dropping down on him while he slept held little appeal. And he wasn’t going anywhere. Not after today.

Callie was so beautiful. So unspoiled. Could it be true? The woman affected him like no other he’d ever met.

He yanked the dusty, scarred chest into the center of the small room, manhandled the tin cupboard out of the corner and swept down the walls, including the halters and harness equipment hanging from pegs. They’d been sorely neglected. He’d start oiling them when he’d finished cleaning the barn. He stomped a scurrying spider and started sweeping the floor. Dust swirled in the dull light of the lantern.

He’d never in his life seen a sight that could equal the beauty of Callie Conner standing in that doorway this morning with her violet eyes shaded by her long, black lashes, her delicate features warmed by the golden light of the lantern and her hair— Whoo! Her hair.

He puffed out a breath and swept with new vigor. He’d been so stunned by the sight of her with those black, silky curls around her face and tumbling over her shoulders he’d dropped that whole armload of firewood. Shocked himself. And her, too. She’d whirled into that other room and slammed that door faster than a blink.

He coughed, shot the pile of debris he’d swept up out into the barn area and hurried out the door to catch a breath of dust-free air. Callie Conner was an enigma. Every other woman he knew would have taken advantage of that moment. And the moment later on, too, when he’d caught her to keep her from burning herself on the stove. He’d been so tempted by her.

The women he knew would have encouraged him to kiss them. Of course, they knew he was wealthy. It was so good to not have that problem. To not have to wonder if it was you or your money a person was interested in. Not that Callie had shown any interest.

He dunked a grooming cloth into the watering trough and strode back into the equipment room. A few quick swipes and moonlight streamed through the small window to mix with the lantern’s glow. He ran the cloth over the dusty chest, shoved it back against the wall and did the same to the tin cupboard.

Perhaps that’s why Callie hadn’t encouraged him. Perhaps she thought he was just a poor, itinerant worker with nothing to offer her. She had certainly seemed friendly toward that well-dressed man he’d seen her with on the porch. She hadn’t smiled at him like that. Until later on. After their near accident in the shay. He’d been sorely tempted to kiss her then, too, with their faces so close, and her holding on to his arm. If she had shown any encouragement at all he’d have given in and pulled her into his arms. But she had slipped away from him to her side of the seat.

Perhaps she hadn’t encouraged him to kiss her because she was promised to someone.

An odd mixture of anger, helplessness and frustration struck him at that thought. He threw the wet rag over a nail in the wall, grabbed up the tonsorial case and put it beside the lantern sitting on a thick plank shelf that had held old horseshoes. He manhandled a short, thick log into the room, upended it beneath the shelf, plunked a bucket on top and felt some better after the physical exertion. Another cloth draped over the bucket’s handle completed his personal grooming area.

Or maybe Callie was exactly what she seemed—a woman totally unaffected by her beauty, and free of guile.

The way she’d been with those children today. And the sight of her cuddling that tiny infant...

The frustration swarmed back. He pivoted on his heel, strode to the cot and carried it back into the cleaned equipment room. One thing was certain, he was not going to leave the Sheffield house until he found out the truth about Callie and his growing attraction to her. And now, thanks to Sophia Sheffield, he would be able to maintain his disguise as a laborer. She had given him the perfect excuse to stay.

* * *

It was useless. The longing in her heart wouldn’t let her sleep. She never should have held Charlotte Deering’s tiny newborn. But she’d been unable to resist. Callie tossed back the covers, grabbed her dressing gown from the foot of the bed and pushed her feet into her slippers. She needed something warm and comforting—like the strong arms of a husband who loved her. But she’d have to settle for a cup of tea.

She shrugged into the dressing gown, fastened the ties and walked out into the kitchen. Moonlight streamed in the windows, made a dark shadow of the open doorway to Sophia’s private quarters. She tiptoed over and pulled her aunt’s door closed, stopping before the latch clicked into place and woke her. She was too vulnerable to hide her feelings in a chatty conversation.

A twist of the damper in the pipe and another to open the bottom draft brought the embers in the stove to life. She grabbed the lifter, quietly set aside the front plate, then reached for some wood. There were only a few pieces in the bottom of the box.

The image of Ezra standing in the kitchen with his arms full of stove wood snapped into her mind. Would he bring more in the morning? Or would he decide to move on in spite of her aunt’s offer of steady work? Who knew what to expect of Ezra Ryder, except for good manners?

She added three small sticks of wood to the glowing embers, ladled water into the iron teakettle and set it over the fire. Caring for the Deering children today had awakened the longing in her heart for a family of her own. And holding that tiny newborn... Tears flooded her eyes. It was going to be a long night.

The silk of her dressing gown whispered softly in the silence as she placed the china teapot on the worktable and crossed to the shelves on the wall. She reached for the tin of tea, paused and stepped closer to the window. A small square of yellow lantern light glowed through the silver of the moonlit night. The equipment room window. Ezra was awake. What was he doing at this late hour?

She frowned, took down the tea and walked back to spoon some into the teapot. He’d worked hard today. Whatever else Ezra was lying about, there was no gainsaying the fact that he knew what was needed on a farm. She’d caught glimpses of him out the window, tossing hay to the cows and carrying buckets out to the pigpen. And then he’d found a hen’s nest...

She put down the spoon and rested her hands on the table, remembering the way he’d come to the house and lifted Lily into his arms, took little Asa by the hand and went back out to show them the baby chicks. And the way he’d coaxed them into eating supper by telling them silly stories about animals until they forgot to be upset about their mama not getting out of bed.

Did Ezra have children of his own? Is that why he’d been so relaxed and natural with the Deering children? The men she knew were uncomfortable around two- and three-year-old toddlers. She placed the lid on the tea tin, carried it back to the shelf and peered out the window. The barn loomed in the darkness, the moonlight casting an argent sheen on the gambrel roof. There was no lantern light glowing in the small window. He’d gone to bed. Did he have a wife somewhere wishing he was home with her?

The thought sickened her. She didn’t want to believe it. But it was certain the man was hiding something. Why not a family? Perhaps that’s why he hadn’t taken advantage of the opportunity to kiss her this morning. Or in the shay.

It was the first time in her life she’d wanted a man to kiss her...

Oh, how foolish was she, letting a liar reach her heart. She knew better than that. And it would stop right now. The silk dressing gown billowed out around her as she turned from the window and went to pour the water for her tea.