Kentucky Bride by Hannah Howell

Author:Hannah Howell [Howell, Hannah]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary, General, Love Stories, Historical, Man-Woman Relationships, Scots - Kentucky, Kentucky
ISBN: 9781420104653
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 1994-01-02T07:00:00+00:00

Muttering curses, Clover hefted the pile of wood. Ballard had told her to call Shelton, Lambert, or him when she needed the woodbox filled, but she had not wanted to interrupt their field work. She decided she would not be so reticent next time. The wood was dirty, heavy, and awkward to carry. At the rate she was toting wood from the woodshed to the woodbox near the house, it would take her the rest of the day to finish. She had not yet gained the strength for such a chore and her hands were riddled with splinters.

She dumped the wood into the box, moved to brush off her skirts, and screamed. Squatting on her skirt was a huge spider, bigger than her hand. Just as she told herself not to panic, Ballard loped up to her side.

“Get it off,” she whispered pointing at the spider, afraid of speaking too loudly and causing it to move up her dress.

Ballard picked up a piece of wood, brushed the spider from her skirts, and crushed it. He watched her closely as she sat down on the back steps. Although she was pale and shaking, she looked unhurt.

“Ye gave me a fright, lass,” he murmured as he sat down next to her. “I feared the bears had returned to the area and wandered up to the house. They used to do that at this time of the year. They are powerful hungry after the winter.”

“I believe I would have been less upset by a bear.”

He laughed and kissed her cheek. “That was a big spider, although I have seen bigger.”

“You must be joking. Spiders are supposed to be small, things you can brush away and step on. That thing covered the whole front of my apron. What kind of spider was it?”

“No idea. We call them wood spiders, as we only seen them ‘round the wood.”

Clover sighed, a little embarrassed now that her shock had passed. “I am sorry. I am not usually such a hysterical—”

He stopped her words with a quick kiss. “Dinnae apologize, lass. No one likes spiders that big. The first time I saw one, I ran inside, got the musket, and shot it. Put a hole in the woodhouse. ‘Tis why I told ye to tell the boys when ye need wood.”

“Have you ever found one in the woodbox?”

“Nay, never. ‘Tis built a mite tighter than the woodshed. Are ye all right now?” She nodded and he stood up. “Need any more wood?”

“I have enough for now, but the box does need to be refilled.”

“I will get the lads to do it afore supper.”

She watched him walk back to the stables and sighed. A glance at the dead spider assured her that it was as big as she recalled, but that did not make her feel much better. Pioneer women were supposed to be a hardy lot. They were not supposed to scream loud enough to raise the dead just because a spider climbed onto their aprons, even if it did look big enough to eat her for dinner.

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