The Proper Wife

The woman was already soaking wet.

“Come along, let me help you inside.”

He held onto the frame of the buggy again as he climbed down, but then gingerly placed his arm around her shoulder. There was no time for another argument over the proprieties.

He did his best to help her open the door of the cabin, taking out some of his frustration on the stubborn hinges. Once inside, it took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust. There were four windows with shutters, one set on each wall. Since most of the shutters were broken or askew, enough daylight had pushed through so that it wasn’t entirely gloomy.

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.

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