As evening neared, the hay was all bound and ready for loading. Will's father stood on the cart while Russ and Will handed the bundles up to him. After working all day, Russ was overheated and he took his shirt off. Now Will hardly knew where to look. At every stray glance at the well-built man, Will's breath caught in his throat. Russ's muscles strained each time he reached and lifted up the bundles of hay.
Will looked away from that beautiful sight and stared at another. The sun sank lower in a reddening sky. It turned their skin and hair coppery and shone out of their eyes. But not the boy's. His eyes did not take on the golden glow of the sunset. They stubbornly held on to their silver sheen even when he stared straight at the setting sun.
The cart was loaded. The skinny nag hitched to it. Father had washed up at the stream and was ready to take the reins. While Will and Russ were still washing up at the stream, Sally stood with the boy far from the water. Every time she tried to lead him closer, he would run from her.
"Leave him be, Sally," Will told her.
"He has to wash up too," she insisted.
"He already did. Just take a look at his hands," Will told her. It was a lie, but he had seen for himself that the boy's hands did not have a speck of dirt on them. How that was possible, he didn't know, but it was so nonetheless.
Because she had tried to pull him toward the stream several times, the boy would not let Sally take his hand even just to look at it. Seeing her try to catch hold of him, Russ laughed. The sound of his laugh, big and throaty, filled Will's heart with unaccountable gladness.
While they washed up, stripped to the waist, Will had done his best not to stare at the man. Whenever he saw his wet and muscled body, the thumping of his heart grew too loud and the tingling low in his belly became too strong. Being so near him, he could hardly think, but one thing did occur to him.
"Sally, why don't you go with father in the cart? Me and the boy will follow behind as soon as I'm washed up," he told her.
Sally did not argue and Will breathed a sigh of relief. Russ noticed and grinned at him. Will didn't know why, but his smile made him blush. Each smile was a surprise for one thing. Russ was known to be taciturn to a fault.
"I didn't even know you smiled much less laughed," Will teased him.
"I don't often get to see how it is when one has a family. And little sisters are a lot more like tyrants than I realized," Russ said good-naturedly.
"Sally gets that from our grandmother. She rules us with an iron fist," Will said. Mentioning his grandmother made him look over at the boy. He was still staying well back from the banks of the stream. "She has not been as welcoming of the boy as I would have liked."
"I suppose she doesn't like to have another mouth to feed," Russ said.
"If only it were so," Will mumbled to himself. It was quite the opposite. How Will wished the boy had taken even one bite of food so he could truthfully tell his grandmother that he had eaten. Once again, he would have to lie.
As it got late, Russ had to start heading for the hills. Will didn't want to say goodbye to him yet. In the scant light of evening, climbing the rocky paths might be dangerous. That was good enough reason to invite Russ home with them.
"You could come and have supper with us and sleep over too. It's late to be making your way up the hill," Will said, growing hopeful and nervous at the prospect.
"I know those footpaths. I don't mind traveling them night or day. I'll be safe enough, but thank you for the kind offer," Russ told him and went on his way.
Watching him set off, Will waved at him and wondered at the sense of heavy disappointment that he would not be staying with them. Russ waved in return, but Will noticed that the boy only stared. Will showed him how to wave and then he had to get him to stop as well.
As he and the boy went along home, Will thought about what he had told Russ. He stopped and lowered himself so he was eye to eye with the child. "I meant what I said to Russ. I'll be taking care of you for as long as you need. If we can't find your kid, you can stay with me and mine," Will told him.
As he listened, the child's eyes were bright as if on the verge of a smile but no smile came. At least it seemed to Will that he understood him.
Going on foot, Will and the boy arrived back at the cottage just in time for Will to help unload the cart. That's when he found that his father agreed to pay Russ with a bushel of potatoes when it was time to dig them up. Will made note of it in their ledger and smiled at the certainty of seeing him again.
Once the unloading was done, it was almost time for supper. As Will took the boy inside, the cottage was filled with the smell of cooking. Will looked over at him wondering if he might be tempted to eat.
"I'll help the boy wash up for supper," Grandmother offered and reached for the boy's hand.
"He won't let you," Sally said just as the boy drew away from her.
"We washed up already," Will said, lying once again.
Sally could not contradict him, but she still had something to say. "The baby would not go near the water, and he would not show me his hands to prove them clean."
"We washed up," Will lied and glared at her though she had done nothing wrong.
Without Will noticing, his grandmother had come close. He turned to find her grabbing hold of the boy's hands faster than he could draw them away. And now he saw that she was turning over the boy's hands to check them. They were clean so she found no proof of Will's lie, but she still looked at them strangely.
"His hands are cold and there's not even a speck of dirt under his little fingernails," she noted. "How can any child's hands be so clean?" She frowned at the boy as if being clean was a fault and not a virtue.
"I cleaned them out with a twig, and he didn't do any digging in the dirt that I know of," Will said to her, trying to make light of what she said.
His grandmother saw no jest in it. She stared at the boy hard.
"Come along," Will said to the boy and placed a hand on top of his head. His head felt cool as well. All this time Will had paid no mind to how cool the child felt even as he carried him, but to his grandmother such a thing was sure to be alarming. "Let us go and see if the chickens have any eggs for us, and feed them some scraps," Will said though his real aim was to get away from any more questioning.
Taking the wooden bowl with scraps in it with one hand and the boy's hand with the other, Will led him outside. Though he only meant to keep him from his grandmother's scrutiny, in the end, they did get two eggs out of it.
Now Will was worried about what would happen at suppertime. Before they went in, Will stopped and got on one knee in front of the boy. "At supper, I want you to have a little food. Just a little bit so that grandmother will see you eating and not be so cross with us."
The boy made no sign that he understood, and Will sighed. There was nothing to be done about it. The boy would eat or he would not, it was out of Will's hands.