Find the Lightning by Madeline Baker

Author:Madeline Baker [Baker, Madeline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ethan Ellenberg Literary Agency
Published: 2019-12-15T18:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Rusty blew a damp wisp of hair away from her forehead. She hadn’t ironed anything in years until today. She remembered watching her grandmother iron dresses and grandpa’s shirts and trousers. Sometimes, grandma had let her iron grandpa’s hankies, which had been fun when she was seven. But heating and using the heavy iron Jay had was no fun at all. She sincerely hoped she’d soon be back in her own time—where ironing was practically unheard of—before wash day came again.

Waiting for the iron to reheat, she found herself thinking about last night’s attack. Except for the time in high school when she’d slapped Brian Anderson for trying to put his hands where they didn’t belong, she had never hit anyone. Last night, she’d whacked two men over the head with a shovel. And enjoyed it.

At breakfast, Jay hadn’t said a word about what happened last night. But she’d noticed he was wearing a gun on his hip when he went outside to feed the stock. Was he expecting more trouble?

She glanced out the kitchen window. Surely those men wouldn’t come here. Idiots. What gave them the right to tell Jay who he could be seen with? And yet, hadn’t she seen numerous similar scenes in old westerns, where white men beat or killed Indians for daring to be seen in the company of a white woman? Or where women were shunned by friends and family alike for having been captured by one tribe or another, or for having the unmitigated gall to fall in love with an Indian man?

She shook her head as she ironed the last of Jay’s shirts. Prejudice was an ugly thing, no matter what century you lived in.

She folded Jay’s shirt, set the iron aside to cool off, and put the ironing board away. At the sink, she filled a glass with water from the pump. She’d taken so many things in her time for granted, like hot running water and electricity, permanent press clothing, washers and dryers, refrigerators and microwaves. And especially whirlpool bathtubs and toilet paper.

She drained the glass and set it in the sink, then went out on the front porch.

Jay was down by the barn, shirtless in the hot sun, as he fit a new shoe to the palomino’s front hoof. He’d mentioned shoeing the mare a couple of days ago, but hadn’t gotten around to it.

The bruises on his face and his black eye looked even worse this morning. There were ugly bruises on his rib cage, too. She noticed he moved cautiously, but she couldn’t blame him. No doubt his ribs were mighty sore.

He set the last nail, filed the edges of the hoof, then patted the mare on the neck. After putting his tools away, he turned the mare loose in the nearest corral, then grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his face and chest.

Rusty grinned inwardly. Despite the colorful bruises, it was quite an impressive chest. It went well with his muscular arms and long, long legs.

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