Rocky Mountain Oasis (9 page)

His thoughts turned to Jason.
I wonder where he is?
Thankfulness that he had had the opportunity to talk to his cousin about the Lord welled up in his heart. Jason could have reacted in any number of different ways, but God had worked it out so that Sky could remind him of his past relationship with Jesus.
Yes, God is good
.

He brought his attention back to the present, his dark eyes resting on Brooke. She tucked a wind-blown curl behind her ear with one small hand, contentment on her face.
I can be thankful that
... But he would not let himself finish the thought. The fact he found Brooke enticingly beautiful was an issue he didn’t yet feel ready to deal with.

She turned to him with a smile, gesturing to the cellar and the surrounding buildings. “It’s all very lovely. You’ve worked hard to build such a nice place.”

Another thing to be thankful for. She understands that it takes a lot of hard work to make a place like this
. He glanced around. “Yes, I have, but it has been enjoyable.” He didn’t add that it might be more enjoyable now that there was someone else with whom to share his accomplishments. “Would you like to see the barn?”

She nodded.

“When I first started this place, I lived in the barn until I had enough logs cut to build the house. I have since converted the room that I stayed in into a tack room.” He walked toward the barn, her soft footsteps following him.

The earthy smell of cut hay, manure, and animal sweat assailed them as they stepped into the dim interior. Sky had always loved the smells of a barn. The aroma brought back many happy memories of days gone by. He chatted easily as he showed her around.

“This is old Bess. She had a calf this last spring. He’s out in the pasture right now. She’d be there herself except she has a sore leg.” The cow peered at them over her back with cinnamon eyes, lowing mournfully, bits of straw hanging out of the corners of her mouth. Sky slapped her on the rump as he passed, continuing his tour. “I keep a couple of steers for plowing and those kinds of things, and a pack mule, but they are all out to pasture. I have a small herd of cattle that I’m slowly building up. I hope to one day quit farming and turn to ranching.” He gestured to the stallion they had ridden up the hill that morning. “Geyser there is the only horse I’ve got. I also hope to be able to get another horse next spring.” His mind went momentarily to the money he had paid to Jason. It had been all of his savings, and he wondered how they would make it through the winter, much less buy a horse come spring, but he said nothing to her, knowing she would feel somehow responsible.

“Geyser?”

Her question brought him back.

He chuckled. “The first time I saw that horse I was down in Lewiston. I was at a roundup and his owner made a bet with all the men standing around that if anyone could ride him, they could have him. If you fell off, you owed five dollars. A couple of them tried it. When that first man hit the saddle and they took the blinders off his eyes, he shot straight up into the air just like a geyser I saw over in Montana one time. That first fellow didn’t last more than two seconds in the saddle, and the second one didn’t do much better. I let a couple more guys go before I gave him a try. I figured he’d be a little tired out by then.” He grinned. “He wasn’t, but I won, and his owner got twenty dollars out of the deal. I can’t think of a name that would fit him better. He’s just like a geyser. You never know when he’s going to erupt.” He grimaced. “He’s thrown me more times than I care to admit. He’s getting a little older now, though, and doesn’t feel his oats so often.”

During this recital Geyser had come to the door of the stall and put his head out. Brooke stood petting his muzzle, one hand resting lightly on his neck. She crooned nonsensical words to the horse, and Sky’s heart contraced at the sight. What was this feeling? He knew he didn’t love this woman. Not yet. But the way his blood pounded through his veins, he knew that if he allowed himself, he
could
love her. Very easily. At times like this, when he saw her at ease, he realized just how tense she usually was. She always had her guard up, as though on the alert against hurt of any kind. What did her past hold? He only knew that the desire to comfort and protect her grew stronger the more he observed her true spirit.

She glanced around the barn, then up to the loft. A smile played on her lips. “My sister and I used to play in the loft of our barn for hours.” She turned back to the horse, but her eyes had a faraway look and Sky knew she was seeing into the past. “We would dig tunnels in the hay, making passageways and rooms. One time we took Mother’s best silver tea service up there and had a genuine tea party.” Her smile broadened as she turned back to Sky. “We got in trouble for losing the sugar bowl. We never did find it. The last time I remember playing with Jessica we looked for it again.” A sadness washed over her face. “Well,” she made an attempt to brighten her countenance, “is there more to the barn? Maybe I should go in and start dinner.” Her guard rose back into place.

“Not much more. Just let me show you the chicken coop and then you can head in if you want.” He led her to a small door that opened on the side wall of the barn. As they came out on the southern side of the barn the sun shone brightly, reflecting off the water in the trough a few feet away. A lean-to stood against the side of the barn with a wooden ramp leading up to the opening where the chickens went in and out. “Since I don’t have too many chickens, I made the coop small.” He lifted the hinged roof of the structure.

A hen, surprised by the burst of sunlight, launched through the opening, cackling, flapping, and sending feathers flying through the air.

Brooke jumped with a sharp intake of breath, her hand going to her heart.

Sky smiled. “Sorry. You okay?” When she nodded with a chuckle, he continued, “I made the roof hinged so it would be easy to collect the eggs. All the roosts are on top, so all you have to do is reach down in and gather them.” She came closer and peered inside the coop, then looked up at him.

“Thank you for showing me around. I think I’ll head in and fix dinner now.”

“That’s fine. I have a couple of chores to finish, and then I’ll be right in.”

As Brooke gathered dinner ingredients she couldn’t seem to keep her mind off the double bed in the corner. He had said he wouldn’t touch her, but there was only one bed. Fear crept back into her soul. He had been kind and courteous all the time she’d known him, but experience had taught her that men were explosive, choosing to do whatever they wanted, often on the spur of the moment’s whim.

Nervousness made her fidgety, and she jumped when the door clicked open. If Sky noticed, he did not let on but went straight to the wash basin and cleaned up as she placed dinner on the table. Thankfully Darcy, Uncle Jackson’s cook, had taught her to prepare several different dishes. Tonight she had relied on an easy favorite—beef stew with potatoes and carrots. Hot biscuits with butter and honey also graced the table.

“Do…do you prefer coffee with dinner or m-milk or...water?” Brooke stammered.

He dried his hands on the towel, watching her as though he knew something was bothering her. “Coffee is fine.” He nodded at the pot and took his chair, his back to the main part of the room.

She moved to the stove, picked up the coffee pot, and let out a yelp of pain. Reflexively, she let go of the searing handle, spilling the contents all over the stove and floor.

Sky was at her side in an instant. “Here, let me see that.”

He took her hand into his, examining her palm and adding to the turmoil already churning in her heart. Her pulse began to race at the tender touch of his hand. Averting her eyes from his expression of concern, she focused on the droplets of coffee that sizzled and danced across the stovetop, sending steam wafting through the air. On the stone firebreak. On the patchwork quilt covering the bed. On anything to get her mind off the way his touch curled her stomach and increased her breathing. A floorboard creaked under their feet, and somewhere outside an owl sent a lonely call into the night.

Only a split second had passed, but she couldn’t stand his closeness any longer. Snatching her hand away, she rubbed it down the side of her skirt. “I’m okay, really. I’ll clean up this mess,” she gestured to the spilled coffee, “and put on another pot. You go ahead and eat while the food is hot.”

He shook his head, leading her to her chair and gently pushing her into it. “Don’t move,” he commanded as he headed out the door. “I’m going to get a bucket of cold water.”

Brooke felt a surge of irritation.
Who is he to tell me what to do?
She got up the instant he was out of sight and, crossing the few steps to the stove, began to clean up the mess. Mopping up the coffee, she wrung it out into a bowl, her burnt hand stinging unmercifully every time the warm coffee soaked through the towel and touched the seared flesh. But she kept on, willing herself to forget the sensations his touch had sent coursing through her.

Only when she heard Sky come back in the door did she pause to consider what her impetuous actions might cost her. She had just cleaned up the last of the mess and was down on her hands and knees wiping up the floor when Sky spoke from behind her.

“I told you not to move.”

She tensed, half expecting a blow, but then realized that his voice had been gentle.

He took her elbow to lead her back to her chair.

Embarrassment at her own carelessness and anger with herself for allowing the feelings this man evoked sparked her temper. She jerked her elbow from his grasp. “Someone had to clean this up—” she gestured emphatically to the stove and floor, “—before it soaked into everything and made stains that wouldn’t come out!”

When the surprise on his face registered, she felt chagrined. She walked back to her seat and sat down.

Coming over beside her, he set a small bucket on the table. She obediently put her stinging hand in the cool water, watching as he set about making a second pot of coffee. When he sat back down, she said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

A twinkle lit his eyes. “Think nothing of it, Mrs. Jordan. I’m sure there will be plenty of times in the future when I will need to be put in my place. That temper of yours might come in handy.”

Plenty of times in the future?
Suddenly the morrow seemed to stretch out for eternity. Could she live with this emotional stress for the rest of her life?

He ladled stew into both of their bowls and they ate in silence, the only sounds in the room the metallic
tink
of silverware on tin bowls and the perking of the coffee. When she finished eating she removed her burnt hand from the water, finding that it felt much better.

Still, the closer it got to the time to turn in for the night the more nervous she became. She was attracted to this man like she’d been to Hank at first, and the thought that he might turn out to be like Hank scared her more than she would admit, even to herself.

As she washed dishes at the sideboard, Sky read an old paper in the cane chair by the door. But when she dropped the second dish with a metallic clatter, she heard him get up, his stealthy footsteps coming nearer. He spoke from directly behind her. “Brooke?”

She stilled, not daring to look at him.

“Brooke, look at me please.”

Slowly she turned and fixed her eyes on his intense face, her wet, soapy hands held over the wash basin.

He stood casually with his hands behind his back. “Do I look like a liar to you?”

She was caught off guard by the question and could only shake her head.

“I made you a promise. Last night and again this morning. I always keep my promises, Brooke. You have nothing to fear from me.” He slid one hand over his head, his eyes intent on hers. “I have made myself a bed in the barn. I hope you will be comfortable in here. Feel free to look around if you need anything. If it’s here, you are welcome to use it.”

With that he bade her good night and, picking up his bag by the door, went out into the night.

Brooke finished the dishes and crossed to the bed, tears of thankfulness coursing down her cheeks.
I don’t deserve a man like this. Are there really men in the world who are the same in the privacy of their homes as they appear to be in public? Maybe it has something to do with his religion?

She quickly dismissed this idea. Uncle Jackson had been faithful to attend church every Sunday. Wasn’t it at a church social that she had met Hank? And once her inebriated father had beaten her when he found out she’d forgotten to say her prayers before bed. With a sigh, she blew out the lamp and dressed for bed. Sleep didn’t come for quite some time as she pondered the mysterious man she had married.

5

At dawn the next morning the crowing of the rooster penetrated her consciousness. Brooke rolled over with a groan, not yet ready to wake up. But the memory of how late she had slept the day before propelled her out of bed.

She had the bed made and was in the middle of making coffee when she heard men’s voices outside. She recognized Sky’s voice, but the other was unfamiliar. She went to the front window and peered out into the yard. Sky stood talking with a huge burly man. Greasy blond curls hung limply about the man’s head and a sweat-stained red shirt stretched across his broad chest.