Dorothy Garlock (25 page)

“Has she tried to hurt you or Hettie?”

“No. But she slapped Mama and she talks . . . nasty to us.”

Lily glanced at Soren as she spoke. Her look seemed as tangible as a touch, her throaty voice a cry for help. His throat felt suddenly dry, parched.

“I hate leaving her here with you.” Owen took off his straw hat and combed his hair with his fingers. “But I don’t know what else to do, Do you think you can get her to take a little laudanum in some water? It would calm her down.”

“I think I can. When she’s like this, she stays in the room upstairs. This morning she was up bright and early and seemed so cheerful—” Lily’s words trailed and she shot another glance at Soren. His intense gaze made her short of breath.

“Do you think she’s going out of her mind, Lily?” Owen finally voiced the question that had bothered him for days.

“Sometimes, I do. One day she talked about going home because her mama needed her. Another time she said she’d let Paul eat worms and her pa had whipped her. She tried to show me the switch marks on her back.”

A sharp expletive cleared Owen’s lips.

“It’ll be all right, Uncle Owen. I’ll look after her.” Lily placed a comforting hand on his arm.

“I can’t bring her home just now.”

“She hates Mrs. Fairf . . . ah . . . Ana and she hates Harriet’s baby.”

“I wish I could get you away from here, Lily.” Owen covered her hand with his. “Slip off and come over to my place as often as you can. Ana would like for you to come visit.”

“I’ll try. Maybe at night. But Procter and grandpa stay up with a jug—”

“What’s Procter doing here?”

“Grandpa said he needed him to hoe corn.”

“Good Lord! It’ll be a month before he has a field to hoe. It isn’t even time to hoe thistle. Look out for him. Don’t let him get you or Hettie alone away from the house. Stay together. I don’t trust him.”

“I don’t . . . like him none atall.” Lily’s voice betrayed her fear.

“Has he bothered you?” Soren asked and Lily’s eyes turned to him for a fleeting instant.

“No.”

Owen placed his arm across Lily’s shoulder. “If Esther gets out of hand, let me know.”

“And if Procter gets out of hand, let
me
know,” Soren said his voice low and grating.

“I will,” Lily whispered.

She looked up at the handsome blond man looking down at her. She remembered a laughing Soren, a teasing Soren. This Soren’s face was hard and impatient. His impatience was not directed at her. Instinctively she knew that. Their eyes caught and held. Uncertainty had darkened the brown eyes that stared into blue.

Suddenly Soren smiled the smile she remembered and nudged her chin with his knuckles. Lily thought she had never seen anything as beautiful as Soren’s smile. Soren thought her eyes were incredibly lovely, the soft brown of a young fawn’s eyes. Lily had never before been aware of a man in relation to herself as a woman. A soft morning breeze carried his earthy masculine scent to her, and she felt for an instant how it must feel to be cherished by a strong, good man. Wavering beneath the intensity of Soren’s blue eyes, Lily realized her skin was becoming uncomfortably warm. Reluctantly she dragged her eyes away, swallowed hard and gathered her scattered senses.

“I’d better get the eggs. Grandpa—”

“Will you come over soon?” Soren asked.

“I’ll try.” The words were said as she walked away.

Soren watched her hurry toward the chicken house. His eyes went hard as unfamiliar feelings assailed him. He ran an agitated hand through his light hair, disturbing the lock that usually fell over his forehead.

“Hell,” he burst out as he followed Owen across the pasture. “It’s a crying shame is what it is. That’s too much to put on that girl!”

“Lily has been looking after her mother for a long time,”

“Damnation! That’s not what I mean. Now she’s got to watch Esther and guard against that Procter who’s dumb as a stump and horny as a rutting bull—and there’s the work. Old Jens will work her to death. It’s not fair, Owen. Hell! It’s the drizzlin’ shits is what it is!”

Owen listened to Soren’s outburst, and a thought tripped in his mind. Seldom had he heard Soren speak so passionately about anything or anybody. He decided to goad him a bit to find out if what he suspected was true—that his devil-may-care, flirting cousin was attracted to shy little Lily.

“Lily will be all right.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t.”

“Then why did you say so?”

“Lily can take care of herself.”

“Goddammit, Owen. That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said. She don’t know the first thing about taking care of herself and you know it. The girl don’t stand a chance against that kraut-eating German. My God! I thought you liked her.”

“I do like her. Procter won’t do anything to turn Jens against him. If he tumbled Lily, Jens would be frothing at the mouth even if he is a cantankerous old goat. Procter’s got it in mind to marry Lily so he can have the farm. Jens may be all for it.”

“Do you think he would marry Lily off to that . . . dirty bastard?”

“Why not? Procter’s distant kin. He’ll get a little something from home. Jens might look on him as the son he never had.”

“From what I hear, the Himmels are a bunch of lazy, no-good beer-guzzling slobs. There’s not a sound fence on their farm, and the hogs root under the porch. Procter wouldn’t get much if it was sold tomorrow.” Soren’s mouth twisted in a sneer.

“Most Germans like their beer. But it’s seldom you see a lazy one,” Owen said calmly. “The Himmels are the exception.”

“Lily wouldn’t marry that suck-egged mule, would she?” Agitation quickened Soren’s stride until Owen had to lengthen his to keep up, and his lame leg began to ache. “The dumb bastard don’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.”

“Lily might not have anything to say about it. Her grandpa is as stubborn a Norwegian as I’ve ever known. If he decides to wed Lily to Procter, he’ll call out the preacher and get it done before you can drop your hat.” Owen gave his cousin a sidelong glance and saw his jaw tighten as he clenched his teeth.

“She’ll not wed that pig-ugly jackass unless she wants him, by God! I’ll see to that.” Soren bellowed the words into the quiet morning.

“Maybe you’d better keep an eye on her, seeing as how I’ve got my hands full at the moment.”

“Maybe I had.”

Owen had to swallow the chuckles that rumbled in his chest and rolled up in his throat. He’d bet his last dollar his world-traveled cousin was having an attack of the heart. Lord! Wouldn’t it be grand? It was more than he’d ever hoped for—Lily and Soren together.

As Soren strode along, his hands deep in his pockets, he was aware of two things. Lily, always shy as a mouse, had grown into a beautiful young woman, and something new and strange was making his heart pick up speed, sending a tingling sensation racing over his skin. In all the time he had known Lily, she had not said over a dozen words to him. He had teased her; she had run. He had tugged on her braid; she had shyly looked at the floor.

Now softly rounded with smooth sun-browned skin, straight dark brows and curling eyelashes, Lily was lovely in a quiet, innocent way. Her thick, wavy hair had darkened to a rich brown. The dress she had worn, Soren remembered now, had patches on top of patches. He clamped his lower lip between his teeth, and his brows drew together in a deep frown. What was the matter with him? In less than a hour his mind had been thrown completely out of circuit.

T
he
day was well on its way when they reached the farm. Ana was hanging diapers on the line that stretched from the windmill to the corner of the porch. With her arms raised Owen could see the rounded outline of her breasts pushing against the bodice of her dress. The wind whipped her skirt against her legs and thighs and billowed it out behind her. She finished and disappeared into the house just as they came into the yard.

“I couldn’t get near that damn goat.” Gus came from the barn with the milk pails in his hands. “Ana milked her.”

“How come she let Ana milk her?” Owen took one of the pails from his uncle.

“Beats me. Ana said she was not used to being tied up and was scared.”

“We’ll make a pen today there beside the hog lot. I’m sure we have enough extra wire.” Owen held the screen door open for Gus and followed him into the kitchen.

Ana was removing a pan of biscuits from the oven. Her eyes caught Owen’s for a mere instant before he lifted the milk pail to the counter and bent over the washdish. He scooped up water to slosh on his face. Then he dried it on the fresh towel that hung on the towel bar.

“Breakfast is ready. Uncle Gus and I went ahead and ate.” She turned hot puffy biscuits onto a platter, carried it to the table, and went back to the stove to stir the mixture in the skillet. The potatoes left from the night before had been diced, eggs added and fried in meat grease. She turned them into a bowl and set the spider on the back of the stove.

“Mornin’, Sunshine.” Soren had washed at the bench on the porch. He greeted Ana with his customary grin.

“Morning.”

As Owen took his place at the table, he noticed the clean tablecloth, the places set with the fork on the left, the knife on the right, the spoon holder beside the caster set, the cups on
saucers
beside each plate. Butter had been scooped from the crock into the cut-glass butter dish with the dome cover. Such niceties had been absent before.

Although Ana’s brown work dress was faded from many washings, she was neat as a pin. The sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, the bodice fit snugly over her firm breasts, her snowy-white apron was tied securely around her small waist. While her back was to him, Owen could feast his eyes on the coils of honey-colored hair pinned to the top of her head. When she turned, he could see that her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the stove. She had scarcely looked at
him,
but she was smiling at Soren.

“Cousin Ana, you’re as pretty as a speckled pup this morning.” Soren’s drawl was thick and teasing.

“Why, thank you, Soren. I don’t know when I’ve been so pleased by a compliment.” Her smiling face abruptly turned sour. She lifted her brows haughtily and looked down her nose at the man grinning at her. “Speckled pup indeed! I think I saw some old turnips down in the cellar that I can boil with moldy sauerkraut for your dinner.”

“Turnips and sauerkraut? I take back every last word, Cousin Ana. Have pity! I’ve had to eat a ton of turnips while on-board ship.”

“Is that so? Well, you’d better watch your mouth from now on, Cousin Soren, or you’ll be eating more.” A girlish giggle escaped her as she ladled water into the dishpan from the reservoir.

Silence fell as the men ate. Owen willed away the jealousy that washed over him, telling himself that his cousin was a natural-born flirt. Nonsensical talk came as easy as breathing to Soren, while unnecessary talk of any kind was an effort for Owen. Compared to Soren, he must seem like a dull clod to Ana.

The men ate with lusty appetites. The biscuits were light and hot. One after the other they disappeared from the platter. Finally Soren placed his knife and fork on his empty plate, pushed back his chair and stood. Now was the time to make himself scarce so that Owen could explain to his new wife about the rumpus with Esther this morning.

“I’ll get that roll of fence out of the loft and see how much we have before we start digging fence posts for the goat pen.” Soren said, and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Ana to study an empty doorway.

Now that he was alone with her, Owen was unable to summon up his voice. He needed to know how she felt about the scene Esther had pulled this morning. She would have to be deaf not to have heard it. Somehow all he could think of was how fetching she looked and how her golden eyes matched her hair. He was almost startled when she sat down at the table across from him.

“I heard the commotion with Esther this morning. It was because of me, wasn’t it?”

He hadn’t expected her to come right to the heart of the matter so quickly. But he should have known; it was her way.

“Partly, I guess. She thought it was Monday and came to do the wash. Right now she’s sick and confused. It could be that she’ll straighten up and come to terms with you being here.”

“If you believe that, you’re hiding your head in the sand. It’s plain to me that she’s having a breakdown. She’s not going to accept my being here. I think it would be better if I took Harry and went back to Dubuque.”

Owen felt as if someone had pinched his nose shut, and he couldn’t breathe. “But you can’t . . . leave. We’re . . . married.”

“Can’t you see that it would make matters here much easier for you?”

“No. I want you . . . and the boy to stay. We’ll work things out.”

“Mr. Jamison, I’ve not told you the main reason I left that day to walk to town. I was out of the house for just a moment or two, and when I returned, your sister was bending over the cradle. I’m sure she intended to harm the baby.”

“How can you be sure? Maybe she was just looking at him.”