Читать книгу The Cowboy Tutor - Linda Ford - Страница 11

Chapter Three

“Where are we going?” Justin asked as he limped along beside her.

Her first thought had been to stride as fast as usual, leaving him to catch up as best he could, but she’d invited him to accompany her for a specific reason—to try to discover who he really was—the cowboy she’d seen on the street or this weak, namby-pamby man who seemed to prefer books to cows and horses. She’d glimpsed eagerness as he’d talked about ranching. Unintentional, she was certain. But it made her more curious. More convinced he hid something. More confused on how she felt about him.

“I’m forced to take the pair wherever I can find something for them to eat, even if it’s only weeds, which make the milk taste awful. Louisa needs the nourishment.”

“How do you plan to feed them through the winter?”

The question was continually on her mind. “I’ve kept the calf for butcher.” Feeding another animal strained her resources, but if she could provide adequate food for the family… “I hope I can trade some of the meat for winter fodder.”

“Though if no one has any feed…”

She knew as well as he how scarce hay would be. “Perhaps we can get some shipped in.”

“Or might be a farmer is giving up and ready to part with what he’s scraped together.”

“In exchange for cash, which is as hard to find as hay.”

They fell into a contemplative silence. Suddenly she realized how easy it had been to talk to him about her problems, how comfortable they’d fit into each other’s strides, even with his limp, and how she ached to tell him everything crowding her brain. But she didn’t trust him, she didn’t want to be attracted to him, and even though she’d seen him first, he was Mother’s pick for Louisa. Her protests chased through her thoughts like runaway children. “I must hurry. The cow will be begging to be milked by now.” She lengthened her stride, forcing him to step, hop and limp to keep up. She slowed and chuckled.

He caught up to her and coughed a little, though she noted he wasn’t out of breath.

“Something funny?” he asked.

“Yes. Us. Look at me. My chin stuck out, rushing across the prairie like I’m trying to outrun a fire, while you hop along like a rabbit with a broken foot. Anyone seeing us would surely shake their head in disbelief.” She laughed again, then realized how he might interpret her comments and clamped a hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to mock your limp.”

He only laughed, his eyes flashing with amusement. His dark gaze held hers as she gave another nervous laugh. She wasn’t sure if she should be embarrassed more by her ill-considered comment, her continuing suspicion or the way her heart lurched as his look invited her into exciting territory full of adventure, excitement and something she couldn’t…wouldn’t…try to identify—a sense of connection.

She tore her gaze away and forced her steps toward the little slough where she’d found some dried grass for the cow. The cow’s desperate lowing reached her, followed by the bleating of the calf. They directed her thoughts sharply back to her responsibilities. She’d tethered them so the calf couldn’t suck the cow and steal the precious milk. “The cow needs milking. The calf needs feeding.”

“Sounds like a song.” He repeated the words, setting them to a rousing camp tune. “And the wind keeps blowing till my mind is numb.” He added several more verses, each more mournful than the first, yet comical, and she laughed.

“I see you missed your calling. You should be in the entertainment world.”

He grinned, a look so teasing and inviting her mouth went dry. “I don’t have a hankering for being pelted with rotten tomatoes when I jest about how hard times are.”

She lifted one shoulder in resignation and acknowledgement. “Might as well laugh as cry, I say.”

“Amen.”

She allowed one brief glance at him. Remnants of his amusement remained, and something more that she recognized as determination—an echo of her own heart. “And do what one can to make things better.”

“Exactly.”

Her brief glance had gone on longer than she should have allowed. Thankfully they reached the struggling trees at the almost dry slough, and she hurried to release the cow. When she turned to do the same for the calf, Justin already held the rope. Together they headed for home. Usually she had her hands full keeping the calf away from the cow, but with Justin helping it was a lot easier, and they reached the barn in short order.

She turned the cow into the stall. “Do you mind putting the calf in that pen over there? There’s a bit of grain for it.”

He did as she asked, then lounged against a post, watching as she milked. Usually she found the time relaxing, but not under his study. “You don’t need to stay here.”

“See no reason to leave. Unless you want me to.”

Did she? Of course she did. Even if she didn’t suspect him of something dishonest, even if he was the spotless character Mother seemed to think he was, he held no interest for her. Mother hoped he’d be a match for Louisa.

So why then did she shake her head? “Of course not. Thanks for your help.” She returned to the soothing rhythm of milking, as aware of Justin’s presence as if he shouted and yodeled rather than waited quietly.

She finished, poured some milk into a trough for the calf and headed for the house to strain the rest for the family. Sally took the pail as she stepped inside.

“I’ll take care of this. You go deliver the laundry.”

“Thanks.”

A few minutes later, Madge sat behind the wheel of their reluctant automobile and tried not to envy Justin his better car. Justin had continued to follow her and, without seeking permission, climbed in beside her. Obviously he meant to accompany her. She couldn’t find the strength to suggest otherwise. Besides—she clung to her excuse—she might discover something about him he didn’t mean for her to find.

The clean laundry, smelling of soap and hot irons, sat in neat piles behind them, covered with an old sheet to protect it from the dust.

When they arrived at her first delivery point, he got out and grabbed a basket.

“I can manage. I do all the time.”

“Yeah. I guessed that.” He led the way up the sidewalk. “You remind me of my mother.”

“Should I be insulted to be compared to an older woman or flattered it’s your mother?”

He chuckled. “I meant you are independent just like her. She could have let us know she was in trouble, but she didn’t. Even when we found out, we practically had to force her to tell us the truth. When the bank foreclosed on her house, she insisted she and Levi could find a place somewhere. It took all of us talking fast and hard to convince her to move in with Carson.”

“She sounds like a strong woman.” Even as she spoke, Madge shuddered. “I intend to see we don’t lose our house. I think Mother and I could manage, but Louisa would suffer ill health from the upset. Who knows what Sally would do? At times she seems ready to conquer any challenge, yet at other times I fear a harsh word will destroy her.” Why she was telling him all this left her as puzzled as Sally often did in her reactions to life.

They reached the door, so conversation came to a halt. Madge handed over the clean items and received a few coins. She tucked the money into her deep pocket to add to the coffee can when she got home. The payment was due next week, and she knew without counting she would never make it.

“I need something special to happen,” she muttered, then wondered if she’d lost her mind to utter the words aloud.

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind.” She eased the automobile down the street to her next delivery. Again, Justin insisted on carrying the basket to the door. Thankfully, the distance was short, making conversation impossible.

She drove three blocks and picked up another batch of laundry.

“Seems to me you’re working hard, finding ways to cope. What is it you’re worried about?”

She snorted. “We’re in a depression. No jobs. No money. Drought. Poor prices. What isn’t there to worry about?”

“I hear ya. But not all those things touch each of us personally. For instance, you have work. You have a source of food and your house.”

“For now,” she muttered, immediately wanting to smack herself for revealing more than she intended. This wasn’t his problem. She didn’t even trust him, for goodness’ sake. Why would she want to share her problems with him?

“Your house is still mortgaged?”

She grunted. Let him take it for agreement or not. Whatever he wanted. She didn’t intend to discuss this with him.

“Are you in danger of losing it?” His quiet words flushed through her, leaving a trickle of anger and determination.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” She took the corner too fast and skidded. Let him think about that instead of talking about losing the house. She couldn’t contemplate the possibility. Her anger fled as quickly as it came. “I’m not worried. God has promised to take care of us. I simply have to believe He will.” Though it would require divine intervention within the next few days.

“There again, you sound like my mother.”

She glanced at him and gave a tight smile that did not budge the determination tightening the skin around her eyes. “She must be a good woman.”

He grinned. “I think so.” His gaze lingered. Did he think the same of her?

And what difference did it make if he did?

She tried to think of all the reasons it didn’t matter, but for a moment, for the space of a heartbeat—for the time it took to blink away from his gaze—she let herself imagine he had complimented her, and she allowed herself to enjoy the thought.

She headed out of town toward the farm. Her journey took her past the Mayerses’ place. Young Kenny stood at the end of the garden, a few feet from the edge of the road. She squinted at him. “What’s he doing?”

“Best I can guess is he’s taking the chickens for a walk.”

She sputtered in surprise. “Never heard of walking chickens.” But indeed the boy had half a dozen hens tethered by a foot and marched them up and down the end of the garden.

Madge crawled to a halt and leaned out her window. “Kenny, what are you doing?”

“Ma says the chickens have to eat the grasshoppers before they get to the plants.” He sounded as mournful as the distant train whistle. “Says I have to keep them here until dark.”

“Sounds like a chore.”

“It’s boring. Stupid chickens wouldn’t stay here, so I roped ’em. Now they got nothing to do but chase hoppers.” One chicken tore after a hopper to Kenny’s right. Two others squawked at the disturbance and flapped in the opposite direction. Kenny had his hands full keeping everything sorted out.

“Well, have fun,” Madge called as she drove away. She didn’t dare look at Justin until they were well out of Kenny’s hearing, then she saw him struggling as much as she was to contain amusement.

They started to laugh. Madge laughed until her stomach felt emptied and her heart refreshed. She gasped for air and dried her eyes. “Never seen that before.”

Justin shook his head. “Thought I’d seen every kind of critter that could be led. ’Course, the chickens weren’t exactly cooperating, were they? I think poor Kenny is going to end up trussed by his feathered herd.”

They burst into fresh gales of laugher as she turned into the yard. The laughter died as they approached the house. She slid a worried look at him. Would he think her silly? But his eyes brimmed with amusement and something as warm as fresh milk, as sweet as clover honey and as forbidden as taking candy from a baby. Yet she couldn’t deny the way his glance sought and found a place deep inside where it seemed to fit perfectly.

She tore her gaze away and delivered a firm lecture to herself. Everything about this man was wrong, wrong, wrong. For starters, she knew he was hiding something. Plus, he had been handpicked as a suitable mate for Louisa. What kind of woman would entertain thoughts for a man intended for her sister?

She bolted from the car and reached for the laundry baskets, now full of tumbled, smelly items. But Justin beat her and held them in his arms.

“Where do you want me to put them?”

She nodded toward the coal shed she used as a laundry room. “In there would be fine.” She hesitated as he disappeared into the dark interior, then slowly followed, wondering if she didn’t step into danger as she crossed the threshold. She grabbed the pull chain, and a bare bulb lit the interior. “On the bench.”

He deposited the baskets and looked about, sneezing at the smell of coal dust. “Pretty dingy in here.”

“That’s why I move everything outdoors unless it’s too dusty. Or rainy.”

“Rain would be a welcome reason.”

“Indeed.” The shed was small, and she looked everywhere but at Justin. His closeness pressed at her senses, making her skin warm, filling her lungs with tightness, causing her eyes to sting with embarrassment and pleasure at their recent amusement.

“I enjoyed our little outing.”

The softness in his voice pulled her gaze inexorably toward him. His eyes were dark, bottomless, echoing the blackness in the corners of the room. Something about his expression caught at her, held her, joined them in a common thought.

“Especially meeting Kenny and his herd.”

A grin started in one corner of her mouth and worked its way across her face. “If it keeps the grasshoppers out of the garden, he will surely be in high demand all over the county.”

Justin chuckled. “The price of chickens will skyrocket.”

“No one will be able to afford to eat a hen.”

“Might put an end to this financial crisis.”

They both laughed heartily at their foolishness, but something happened in that shared moment, something Madge would not admit. She could not, would not feel a union of souls beyond anything she had before experienced.

She jerked away. “Thanks for your help and have a good night.”

He followed her outside and paused, as if waiting for her to turn and face him. She would not.

“Good night to you, too.” He limped toward his quarters.

She headed for the house. Just before she stepped inside, she turned. He paused at his own doorway and glanced back. Her heart jerked in response. He lifted one hand in a little wave. She did the same, struggling to keep her breathing normal, and then ducked inside and quietly closed the door.

“Did you have a good time?” Louisa sat in her lounge chair. Her voice was soft but her eyes hard.

Madge knew her sister didn’t care for Justin accompanying her. Not that she had invited him. Or welcomed him. Or so she tried to convince herself. “I delivered laundry and picked up more. Not exactly a fun occupation.”

“What did you talk about?”

She couldn’t remember anything except their shared laughter and didn’t want to tell Louisa about that. “Huh? Pardon? Who talked about what?”

“You and Justin. You must have said something. After all, you went to town and back. You spent the better part of an hour together.”

“I didn’t know you would object. Where are Mother and Sally?”

Louisa sighed. “I want to have all his attention. Is that so wrong? He’s a good teacher and might turn into a good friend. They’re in the living room unraveling an old sweater of Father’s.”

Guilt clawed at Madge’s throat. “I’m sure he’ll find you very interesting. You’ll soon be the best of friends.” He wouldn’t be interested in someone like Madge. She was only an old workhorse. Louisa was a graceful swan. “Just be careful. We know very little about him.”

Louisa looked ready to argue, then sighed. “It’s not like I expect anything but a few lessons from him.”

Madge knew Louisa wanted more. And who could blame her? Louisa missed out on a lot of fun because of her health problems, but they had shared confidences all their lives. Louisa dreamed of all the things Madge did—home, love, security. “Do you want help preparing for bed?”

“I can manage.” Louisa put Mouse down, and he rushed to the bottom of the stairs where Macat waited. Louisa pushed to her feet.

Madge wrapped her arm about Louisa’s waist and held her close. Louisa had been ill so many times. Madge would do anything to protect her. “You mustn’t overtire yourself. You’ll end up sick. Then you wouldn’t be able to study with Justin.” She injected a teasing note into her voice and pretended she didn’t feel the tiniest ache in her thoughts…her lungs…her heart.

She paused at the front-room door. “Mother, Louisa and I are headed upstairs. Good night.”

“We’ll finish this before we go up.” She spared a brief smile, then turned back to winding yarn as Sally carefully pulled out row after row.

Upstairs, Madge offered again to help, but Louisa insisted she was quite capable of getting to bed on her own. Madge smiled a little at Louisa’s faint determination, then retired to her own quarters. Thankfully Father had built the house large enough for the three girls to have their own small rooms. The big room where she hung sheets to dry had been intended as an upstairs parlor for the women when they had company. Mother’s room was downstairs off the front room. Madge savored her solitude. She could think and pray and struggle with her wayward thoughts—as she did tonight—without the others knowing.

Louisa had carefully, guardedly, expressed her interest in Justin. And rightfully so. He was perfect for her, as Mother had already seen. At least, if he turned out to be honest he would be. Madge had no right to think of him as anything but Louisa’s tutor and, perhaps in the future, Louisa’s husband. And her own brother-in-law.

That settled, Madge opened her Bible. She had established a habit of daily reading as a youngster when Father had carefully instructed all of them in the value of such a practice. All three had promised Father they would read at least a few verses every day. Mother continued to remind them of their promise and the value of keeping it. Sometimes Madge mentally excused herself as being too tired, but she’d discovered she found incredible strength and guidance in the Word and comfort in prayer.

She read the chapter where her marker indicated she had quit the night before. The passage was Micah, chapter six. She began to read, got as far as verse eight and stalled. “What doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with thy God?”

Her thoughts smote her, and she bent forward until her hair fell to the page. Macat thought she wanted to pet her and pushed under her arm, but Madge ignored her. Oh, Lord, I have forgotten to be humble. I have forgotten mercy and justice. I’ve been so caught up with fighting my attraction to Justin and in fretting over how I’ll pay the mortgage that I’ve forgotten who You are. I trust You to help me be true and faithful in everything. Both in her concerns over the needed money and her wayward, unwarranted thoughts about a man who filled her with such nagging doubts. Lord, show me, reveal to me any secrets he is hiding that might harm us.

A few minutes later she crawled into bed, her mind at rest, her heart at peace. She would trust God and keep her distance from Justin.

Over the next few days Madge did her best to live up to her decision. Justin kept busy with Louisa. The little bit she saw of them together reinforced her resolve. Louisa’s cheeks took on a healthy color. She showed more enthusiasm than she had in a long time. Several times Madge heard her laughter ring out like bells. The sound both seared and cheered her, reminding her of the laughter she’d shared with Justin and, at the same time, reaffirming how perfect he was for Louisa. She caught bits and pieces of conversation between the two as she hurried up and down the stairs. Justin was always so kind and patient with Louisa. In fact, Madge told herself, a perfect match for her. She was happy for Louisa.

If only it was anyone but Justin.

Judd watched Madge hustle up the steps and clenched his teeth. She worked far too hard, packing heavy baskets, carrying buckets of water, delivering the laundry and caring for the cow. Why, he’d even seen her with her head in the bonnet of their old car, adjusting things so it ran.

He wished he could help her, but his job was to teach Louisa, who devoured every bit of information he relayed to her. He’d had to send back home for several more books.

The evening he and Madge had spent together had been enjoyable, but she had pointedly avoided him since. He couldn’t help but wonder why. Had he offended her in some way? He intended to find out.

His opportunity came when she began to empty the washtubs. She grabbed her back and stretched as if she hurt. And well she might. The endless work was heavy. “I think I’ll help Madge carry away the wash water. She looks tired.”

“But—” Louisa ducked her head and swallowed loudly, then her gaze sought her sister and her expression softened. “Of course. To my shame I confess I often take her strength for granted. Yet if something were to happen to her we would all pay an awful price. Go and help her.”

“You have this book to study. You’re a good student. I feel a fraud trying to teach you. Really, all you need are the books and you could manage on your own.”

Bright color stained her cheeks. “How kind of you to say so.” She stroked Mouse’s back. “But it’s because you explain things so well.”

He chuckled. “So long as you’re happy.”

The color in her cheeks deepened. Was she so susceptible to a few kind words? The poor girl needed to get out more, mingle with people. Learn to fight her own battles. Like Madge.

Madge—who seemed set on making it impossible for him to spend time with her.

He hurried out and caught up the pails while her back was turned.

She spun around. Surprise filled her eyes and then, what he hoped was pleasure. The look disappeared so quickly he wondered if he imagined it simply because he wanted it.