A Home in Drayton Valley by Kim Vogel Sawyer

Author:Kim Vogel Sawyer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC042030, FIC042040, FIC042000, Pioneers—Kansas—Fiction, Wagon trains—Kansas—Fiction, Life change events—Fiction, Man-woman relationships—Fiction, Domestic fiction
ISBN: 9781441260437
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group

21

Sunday morning dawned rosy and calm, the fury of last night’s storm chased away by cheerful fingers of light spreading across the horizon like a fine lady’s jeweled fan. Tarsie tiptoed, barefooted, over soggy ground strewn with scraps of green leaves to the well and lowered the bucket into the cool depths.

She wore her robe over her nightclothes, just as she had all night. Where would she find the privacy to change into her church dress? If she asked, would Joss step outside and allow her to disrobe without audience? As her husband, he had every right to remain inside. To even observe her, if he desired. The thought of Joss’s eyes on her sent tremors through her belly.

She pulled the full bucket upward on its squeaky rope as heat built in her face. “He’s never once demanded his rights as husband,” she murmured, trying to reassure herself. “Surely a tipped wagon won’t be changin’ how we’ve done things in the past. He’ll just set it back to right again an’—”

“Tarsie?”

Tarsie let out a yelp of surprise and released the rope. The bucket plummeted downward and landed with an echoing splash. She whirled around, her mouth open, to find Joss a few feet behind her. His tan trousers and blue untucked shirt were rumpled. A dark shadow filled his lower face, and his thick hair stood in untidy tufts, signifying a rough night’s sleep. For one brief second, Tarsie found herself wanting to smooth his hair into place. Her hand lifted, but she caught herself in time and linked her fingers together, pressing her joined hands to her ribs, where she felt the pound of her heartbeat.

Joss strode toward her, the ties of his boots flopping against the moist grass. He tugged the bucket upward, then sloshed water into her waiting pail. Tossing the empty bucket back into the well, he studied her solemnly. “Did you take a look at the wagon?”

“N-no.”

He pursed his lips, his mustache forming a grim line. “It’s ruined. Cover’s shredded, front axle broken, box all busted up. It’s nothin’ more’n scrap lumber now.”

Although he didn’t come right out and say so, she knew he’d be residing in the house from now on. She lifted the pail and started for the house, Joss on her heels. His hand curled around her elbow, halting her progress. She looked up at him, her mouth dry. Although they’d exchanged vows nearly two months ago, they’d never stood so close. She could see her own reflection in his pupils.

“Before you go inside and wake the young’uns, let’s talk.”

Tarsie swallowed. Her attire and his sleep-tumbled appearance lent too much intimacy to the moment. She didn’t think she’d be able to form a coherent sentence. “C-can’t it wait . . . ’til later?” After breakfast. After worship service. After she was dressed and had gathered her wits about her.

He scowled. “Puttin’ it off won’t change anything. Just listen. I don’t think you oughta teach that colored woman to read.”

Tarsie drew in a breath, an argument forming on her tongue, but before she could speak he went on.

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