The Proper Wife
It might have been better had it not revealed quite so much.
A thick coat of dust covered everything. ‘Everything’ being a generous term. Very little furniture remained. And it wasn’t just dust—leaves and other debris from outside had made their way inside, as well.
The cabin consisted of one large open area, with an alcove to their right—probably for sleeping—and a fireplace to their left. Fortunately, the roof seemed relatively sound. There was one steady drip in the alcove area and one near what must be the back door. Other than that, the place appeared dry.
He glanced his companion’s way, expecting to see dismay, and perhaps something stronger. Instead she was looking around with interest, seeming pleased by what she saw. “God was definitely looking out for us,” she said cheerily. “We ought to be able to wait out the storm in relative comfort here.”
A sudden rustling from across the room snagged his attention. Before he could do more than stiffen, a squirrel shot out of a far corner. His companion, who’d merely shrugged her shoulders at the sight of that snake earlier, jumped. The animal, tail flickering in agitation, disappeared through a half-shuttered window, apparently preferring the rain to their company.
Miss Lassiter gave him a sheepish look. “Sorry. Hope I didn’t jar you. The squirrel startled me.”
“I’m fine.” He released her shoulder and braced his arm against the wall. To be honest her reaction made him feel slightly better about his own reaction to the snake.
A few other skittering noises came from the vicinity of the alcove, but he told himself they were caused by the wind coming in, not mice or other vermin.
Besides, there were more pressing things to worry about at the moment. Like, was that a working fireplace? A fire would go a long way to helping them dry out.
“Will you be all right for a few minutes?” she asked, reclaiming his attention.
Eli eyed her suspiciously. “Of course. But where do you think you’re going?”
“I need to unhitch and tether the horse. And while I’m out there I intend to fetch whatever I can find in the buggy that we can use to make us more comfortable in here.”
All things he should be taking care of. “That can all wait until the storm—
She held a hand up, palm out. “I can’t get any wetter than I already am. And it would be cruel to leave the horse standing out there for who knows how long hitched to the buggy. Besides, we can’t risk him getting spooked by the storm and running off.”
She was right, of course. But that didn’t make him like it any better. “At least take this.” He pulled his hat off. “That scrap you’ve got on your head is no protection in this weather.” And from the looks of it, it probably wouldn’t ever be fit for use again.
She nodded and untied the ribbon that secured the soggy bit of frippery. He placed his more sensible hat on her head and found himself brushing the hair off her forehead to tuck it under the brim. The wisps tickled his fingers, as if even her hair was prone to playfulness.
He moved back and studied the picture she made in his too-big-for-her coat and hat. They swallowed her up, making her look like a child playing dress up. But she was covered except for the bottom half of her skirt.
As if reading his thoughts she gave him a reassuring smile. “Thanks, this is much better. And don’t worry, I shouldn’t be long.”
He watched her head back out into the weather, feeling frustrated at his enforced uselessness. Then he looked around, taking stock of their temporary shelter. The least he could do was get to work doing what he could to make the place as comfortable as possible. Even though he was certain that thanks to Miss Lassiter, this would be one of the most uncomfortable afternoons he’d spent in quite some time.
Arms full, Sadie shoved the door of the cabin open with her shoulder. The load was bulky and awkward to manage but she hadn’t cared for the idea of making a second trip to the buggy in this weather.
Stepping inside, she found Mr. Reynolds sitting on the low hearth, working on cleaning out the fireplace. Even with damp clothes and smudges on his sleeve, the always-dapper banker was still quite handsome.
He looked up and caught her staring so she looked away, setting the hamper and the covered bucket of honey just inside the door.
“I feel sorry for the mare,” she said to cover her embarrassment. “She’s a good horse and deserves a nice dry barn to wait out the storm in.”
“Hopefully this will blow over soon.”
Sadie refrained from comment, but she’d seen this kind of storm before. She doubted it would be over “soon.”
“So what did you find in the buggy?” He eyed the hamper with interest. “Any food?”
“Hungry, are you?” She grinned as she folded the blanket into a smaller square. Then she set it down on top of the hamper and bucket, taking care to not let it touch the dirty floor.
“Not starving,” he answered. “But I wouldn’t turn down a bite to eat.” He gave her a challenging smile. “Not that I’m worried we’ll starve. There’s always that honey you have there.”
“Bite your tongue—that’s for Cora Beth.” She doffed the hat he’d loaned her and bumped it against her skirts to shake some of the water off. “Besides, I don’t think it’ll come to that.” She removed the coat and gave it the same treatment. No point trailing water all through the place—all this dirt and dust would turn into a muddy mess. “The hamper has all of the stuff Cora Beth helped Viola pack for the folks at the ranch. I think they’ll forgive us if we help ourselves.” She tried to jab a few stray hairpins more securely on her head. “I know it’s nothing fancy but we can always pretend we’re on a picnic.”
“Picnic fare sounds good. Given the situation, I’d say we’re lucky to have it.”
“I’d say, rather, that the Good Lord was looking out for us.” She opened the sack and began digging around. “As far as other supplies, I found an old picnic blanket under the wagon seat, and I also have this sack of honey-gathering tools, including—” she straightened “this flint.”
His eyes lit up at that. “Good. Because as far as I can tell the chimney is clear, and I think the first order of business should be to get a fire started so we can try to dry out.”
“I agree.” She looked around as she crossed the room. “And there certainly seems to be a lot of material laying around that we can use for firewood. That old stool and those rickety benches both seem to be fit for nothing else. And the shutter on that window is already hanging by one rusty hinge.”
He nodded, only glancing up briefly before resuming his work at the fireplace. “There’s a few pieces of actual firewood the last squatters left behind in the hearth. But we could really use some kindling. If you see any twigs or other bits of debris that would serve the purpose gather them up.”
She took in the layers of dirt and debris surrounding them and wrinkled her nose. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”
Once he took the flint from her, she hung his hat and coat on two of the half dozen nails jutting from the mantel. The garments would fare much better there than on any of the dusty surfaces the cabin had to offer.
In short order she had collected a goodly number of twigs, pecan husks and other flammable-looking bits and carried them to the hearth.
She tamped down the urge to offer to lend a hand as she watched him arrange the kindling and bits of wood. Instead, she stood and surveyed the cabin. “If we’re going to be stuck here for a while, we might as well try to make it more comfortable. I don’t suppose you saw a broom anywhere?”
He glanced up with a surprised expression, then shrugged. “Afraid not.” He looked at the floor with a grimace. “Too bad.”
“Then I’ll just have to improvise. A leafy branch or bit of brush will work just about as well—bound to be lots of those handy. If you’ll loan me your pocketknife I’ll see what I can find.”
He paused and frowned up at her. “You’re not going back out in that storm.”
His commanding tone took her aback, but she kept her own tone light. “Don’t worry. I figure with the way things are grown up around here, there’ll be something right out the back door.”
“Distance won’t matter in this downpour. You’ll be soaked as soon as you step outside.”
So he was worried about her. Why did everyone think she couldn’t fend for herself? She spread her arms. “Can’t get much wetter than I already am. And you’ll have that fire going soon so I can dry out when I get back.” She shrugged and added a touch of firmness to her voice. “Besides, I’ve got to do something to keep busy.”
He gave her a long, considering look, then apparently decided to let it go. “At least put the hat and coat back on.”
“Of course.”
It took some time, and quite a bit of shoving to get the back door opened, but when she looked at the rain-shrouded grounds behind the cabin Sadie gave a little crow of pleasure.
“What is it?”
She smiled over her shoulder. “I’ve found a real treasure back here. There’s a whole tangle of dewberry vines growing right up against the wall, and they’re ripe for the picking.”
He sat up straighter. “Need some help?”
“No, I can get them. Besides, you have your hands full getting that fire going and I plan to take full advantage of it when I get done.”
Sadie snaked a hand toward the nearest vine. “I love dewberries.” She plucked two of the plump berries and popped them one after the other into her mouth. Savoring the way the juice exploded between her teeth, she scanned the overgrown patch of ground, trying to spy a likely bit of brush to use as her makeshift broom. No point heading into the weather until she had her quarry in sight.
There! That one should work. She sprinted out into the rain and made quick work of breaking off the targeted bit of brush. In the process she caught sight of a stout stick on the ground. Scooping it up, she headed back to the house. Leaning her brush-broom against the inside wall, she shook out her skirts, then reached back to pluck a few more berries.
Crossing the room with her two offerings, she smiled at the sight of the crackling flames. “Oh good, you’ve got the fire going.”
“The chimney is clear enough to draw the smoke, thank goodness.”
She held out the stout branch. “Look what I found. I thought you might be able to use it as a walking stick.”
The relief and approval on his face sent an answering warmth through her.
“Thanks.” He took the stick and used it to leverage himself up. Placing his weight on it, he took a couple of hobbling steps to test it out. “Perfect.”
“Good. Now here, try some of these.”
He stared at the berries she held out but didn’t make a move to take them. “You picked them, you eat them.”
She waved away his concern. “Oh, don’t be silly—I’ve already had a handful.” From the look on his face she reckoned he didn’t get called silly often. “There are lots more on those vines. This is just a little snack to keep our strength up. I plan to pick a whole passel more once I’ve gotten some of the cleanup done.” She raised her hand a bit closer to his face and slid the berries back and forth under his nose.
After rolling his eyes, he took half of the berries and popped one into his mouth. “Delicious.”
“Nothing like berries fresh from the vine. Here take the rest so I can get to work.” She held up her other hand, palm out.
With a nod and a thank you, he accepted the rest of her offering.
That was better. The man just needed someone to stand up to him occasionally. And this afternoon was as good a time as any.
Chapter Six
Eli watched Sadie energetically swish her rustic but surprisingly effective broom across the floor, chafing at the fact that he couldn’t be of more help. Thank goodness she’d found the walking stick for him, at least he could get around a little better now. Even though his foot throbbed enough to make his teeth ache, the renewed mobility made him feel a little more in control of the situation.
While she swept and cleaned he hobbled around, determined to do what he could. He shoved the heavier bits out of her way, gathered up whatever scraps of wood he could find to stack by the fireplace and tossed some of the rest of the junk in a far corner. The woodpile grew surprisingly large and while he hoped they wouldn’t be here long enough to need it all, his gut told him that there was a good chance they would be.
Not that he had any intention of letting Miss Lassiter see his concern. He wasn’t sure how she would feel about being trapped out here for an extended period and he didn’t relish the idea of having a hysterical female on his hands on top of everything else.
As the minutes ticked away, however, her energy and continued positive attitude surprised him. He hadn’t noticed her being this industrious back at the boardinghouse. Her fervor with the broom coupled with the sodden, muddy hem of her skirt and damp, disheveled hair should have given her the appearance of a scullery maid.
But somehow it didn’t.
He wasn’t sure if it was the cheery smile she wore, or her soft humming as she worked or something that went deeper, but she looked both softer and more competent than before.
She kicked up enough dust with her efforts to set them both to sneezing, but she maintained her good humor, treating it more as a game than a chore. In short order she had the area in front of the hearth as clean as she could make it given the tools on hand.
Finally setting aside her broom, she fetched the blanket and spread it in front of the fireplace. “There now, why don’t you sit and rest that foot of yours?”
That did sound good. “Ladies first.”
Rather than showing appreciation for his manners, she looked exasperated. “Oh for goodness sake, this isn’t Cora Beth’s parlor. Given the situation, I think we can put those sort of niceties aside.”
He clenched his jaw. Didn’t she realize that, “given the situation,” they should make every effort to maintain whatever decorum they could? “Good manners are always in order, no matter the circumstances.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “You know what I mean. You’re hurt and I’ve got berries to collect. Now, do you need help getting situated before I head back out?”
Her question set his teeth on edge. He wasn’t entirely helpless. “I’ll manage.”
She studied him uncertainly. “Your foot—”
“Is better off inside my boot where the pressure will keep the swelling down.”
“But what if it’s a break?”
“It’s not.” And even if it was, there was nothing she could do about it.
She nodded, then looked around. “Now, what can I put the berries in?”
“Are you sure you want to do that now? The rain hasn’t slacked off yet.”
She shrugged and gave him a playful smile. “I’d rather be wet than hungry.”
He started to point out that they had other things to eat, but then decided there was no point. Her mind seemed to be made up. “In that case I think the hamper is probably our best bet.”
“Of course.” She knelt and quickly emptied the contents. Reaching for the hat and coat, she nodded toward the blanket. “Set yourself down and I’ll be back in no time.”
“I’m coming with you.”
She paused with one arm in a coat sleeve and one not. “I can handle this. You should get off that foot—”
He ignored her protest. “It doesn’t take legs to pick berries. And, since I’ll be sharing in the fruits, literally, I should also share in the labor.” He grabbed up the hamper, tightened his grip on his cane and headed for the door. She could follow or not as she liked.
A heartbeat later he heard her scurrying to catch up. “You are one of the stubbornest men I’ve ever come across. And if you’d met my brothers you’d know that was saying something.” She flounced past him, pushed the door open, then turned back to face him. “You stand here with the hamper and I’ll pick the berries.” Before he could argue she held up a hand. “You’re almost dry so no point in getting yourself soaked again. Besides, if you insist on going out there I’ll feel obliged to give you back your coat and hat and how gentlemanly of you would that be?”
Speak of stubborn! He stared at the downpour. “Perhaps we should just wait to see if this lets up soon.”
“It’s not coming down quite as hard as it was earlier. And what if it doesn’t stop? I’d just as soon get to it while I’m still wet. Once I get dry I’m not going to be quite so eager to step outside again.”
He supposed that made sense. But the woman was never going to dry out at this rate.
Without waiting for his response, she drew the collar of his jacket up higher and stepped out into the storm.
Several minutes later, as she dumped yet another handful of berries in the hamper, he took her wrist and drew her out of the rain. “Time to come back inside. We have plenty enough to hold us for a while.”
As if not quite trusting him, she peered into the hamper. “I suppose that’ll do for now.”
Eli turned, glad that he could finally get off his feet. He hadn’t taken more than two steps, though, when he realized she’d stepped back out in the rain. What was she up to now?
Ignoring the throbbing in his foot, he set the hamper on the floor and limped back toward the door. “Miss Lassiter?”
“I’ll be there in a minute.” Her voice was muffled but he could tell she hadn’t gone far.
It was several long minutes later before she reappeared inside the doorway. Not surprisingly, she wasn’t empty-handed.
“Look what I found,” she said nodding to the four large pieces of firewood and two stout sticks in her arms. “There’s a chopping block out back. There’s more but the other pieces hadn’t been split yet and they were too heavy to carry. Anyway, I thought these might come in handy for the fire.”
Hadn’t she seen the small pile he’d stacked by the fireplace? Or, like him, was she worried about how long they’d be stranded here? “It was a good thought, but these pieces are soaking wet.”
“I know, but if we place the pieces just inside the fireplace around the fire, they’ll dry out faster. Then if we get down to where we need them, we’ll have a better shot at getting them to burn.”
While she crossed the room with her burden, he followed more slowly with the hamper. The woman had a sensible head on her shoulders after all, it seemed. Had he been wrong about her in other ways?
Once she’d arranged the damp wood to her satisfaction, Miss Lassiter stood and rolled her shoulders. Then she shed the garments he’d loaned her and hung them back on the make-do coat pegs.
“Thanks for the use of your hat and coat.” She studied them with a wince. “I’m afraid they’re showing signs of what I put them through.”
He shrugged. “They can be replaced.”
She made no move to approach the blanket and her face wore a slightly embarrassed look. Surely she wasn’t worried that he would—
“I’ve got water in my shoes,” she blurted out. “I was thinking I’d take them and my stockings off and set them by the fire to dry. If it won’t offend you, that is.”
Was that all? “Of course.”
She nodded and hesitated. Realizing her dilemma, he busied himself with studying the items she’d pulled from the hamper earlier, keeping his gaze averted to allow her what privacy he could while she removed her footgear.
A few moments later she carefully arranged her shoes and stockings on the uneven hearth.
“Ready to eat?” Wanting to put her at ease, he kept his tone conversational.
She nodded. “As soon as we give thanks.”
Give thanks? She saw something in this situation to be thankful for? But he supposed keeping to normal rituals in such an otherwise unusual situation gave her comfort and perhaps some sense of normalcy. So he would go along with her request. And since she seemed to be waiting for him to lead the blessing, he dutifully bowed his head. “For the food we have before us, Lord, we give You thanks and ask that You continue to bless our respective families and our endeavors. Amen.”
Miss Lassiter echoed his “Amen”, then nodded toward the cluster of food items. “I’ll take one of those pears if you don’t mind.”
He nodded and reached for the fruit. To his surprise, she remained standing as he handed it up to her. What now?
As she accepted the pear from him, he noticed the red marks on her wrist and frowned. “What happened?”
She followed the direction of his gaze, then gave a sheepish smile. “I got a little careless. Dewberry vines have lots of nasty little thorns and I tangled with a few when reaching for the plumper berries.” Before he could offer sympathy, she shrugged. “Don’t worry, though, I’ve gotten much worse on other berry-picking expeditions.”
She took a bite out of the pear, and his gaze was captured by a little dribble of juice that found its way to her chin. He couldn’t seem to look away, until she used her sleeve to wipe it away.
Giving his head a mental shake, he turned his focus to the food, grabbing the jug of apple cider to moisten his unaccountably dry throat.
Miss Lassiter appeared not to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. She was staring at one of the windows, her head cocked to the side. “Sounds like the rain’s coming down even harder now. Good thing we picked those berries when we did. We may be in for a long afternoon.”
Eli merely nodded. No point in adding to her worries. Fact was, even if the rain stopped in the next few minutes, he had no idea how in the world they were going to get around that fallen tree. His only hope right now was that they’d be missed before long and someone would be out looking for them.
“Did you tell Danny you were planning to come out here?” He kept his tone casual.
“Not specifically. It was supposed to be a surprise.”
So much for that idea. No one would know where to look even if they realized the two of them were missing. Miss Lassiter had definitely not thought things through this morning.
“You might as well sit,” he said. “There’s plenty of room here.”
She shook her head. “My skirts are soaked.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sitting would be uncomfortable right now. I thought I’d stand in front of the fire for just a bit to try to speed the drying process.”
Which was sensible but it put him in the position of lounging on the floor while she remained standing. He wasn’t doing very well in the gentleman department.
They ate in silence for a while, Eli trying hard not to stare at her bare feet and trim ankles peeking out from the hem of her skirt.
An explosive sneeze, quickly followed by a second, jerked his gaze up to her face. “Are you okay?” Had she caught a chill?
But she dismissed his worries. “I’m fine. I think it’s just all the dust we kicked up when we were cleaning earlier.”
Eli grabbed the jug of cider. “Would you care for some of this?”
She nodded and set the core of the pear in the fireplace. Wiping her hands on her gown with the indifference of a child, she took the proffered cider.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to drink straight from the jug—I didn’t see any drinking glasses.”
The caveat didn’t seem to bother her. “I’ll manage.”
As Miss Lassiter drank, Eli studied her closely for other signs that she might be taking ill, but she seemed remarkably robust.
After a couple of deep swallows, she absently handed the jug back to him while she studied the room. “I wonder what kind of history this place has. I mean, I know it’s not much to look at today, but now that we’ve cleaned it up a bit, I can picture how it might have looked back when it was new. It would have made a cozy little home for some farmer and his wife.”
Eli looked around skeptically. Even though it was mid-afternoon, the dark-lidded sky and semi-shuttered windows left the one room cabin in shadow except for the area here by the fireplace. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t picture this place as anything but a hovel.
“Whatever its history, apparently it didn’t suit,” he said diplomatically. “It appears to have been abandoned for some time.”