Move over, Marigold.”
The Jersey cow munched on her breakfast, eyes half-closed. When Myles pushed on her side, she shifted in the stall, giving him room for his milking stool and bucket. Settling on the stool, he rested his forehead on Marigold’s flank, grasped her teats, and gently kneaded her udder while squeezing. His hands were already warm since she was the sixth cow he had milked that morning. Marigold let down her milk, and the warm liquid streamed into the bucket. Myles had learned that it paid to be patient with the cows; they rewarded his kindness with their cooperation.
“Meow!” A furry body twined around his ankle, rumbling a purr that reminded Myles of a passing freight train. Other cats peered at Myles from all sides—from the hayloft, around the stall walls, from the top of Marigold’s stanchion. Their eyes seldom blinked.
The plump gray and white cat had perfected her technique. She bumped her face against Myles’s knee, reached a velvet paw to touch his elbow, and blinked sweetly.
“Nice try, you pushy cat, but you’ve got to wait your turn. I’ll give a saucer to all of you when I’m finished.”
“Why do you reward them for begging? It only makes them worse.” A deep voice spoke from the next stall where Al Moore was milking another cow.
“Guess I like cats.”
“I…um, Myles, I’ve got to tell you that I’ll be heading over to Cousin Buck’s farm after dinner. I’ve got to talk with Beulah today…you know, about my letter.”
“I’ll be there, too. I’m working in Buck’s barn this afternoon—mending harnesses and such.”
“Things have changed since Cousin Buck married Violet Fairfield last year and took over her farm, Fairfield’s Folly,” Al commented sadly. “I mean, in the old days he kept up with every detail about our farm, but he’s too busy being a husband and papa these days.”
“He doesn’t miss much. Must be hard work, running the two farms.” Myles defended his friend.
“I run this place myself,” Al protested. After a moment’s silence he added, “You’re right; I shouldn’t complain. I just miss the old days; that’s all. Anyway, to give Cousin Buck credit, being Beulah’s stepfather must be a job in itself, and now with Buck and Violet’s new baby…” His voice trailed away. “Buck has made major improvements at the Folly farm this past year. Guess that’s no surprise to you.”
“I do have firsthand knowledge of those improvements,” Myles acknowledged. “Working at both farms keeps me hopping, but I don’t mind. I’m glad Buck is happily married. I’ve never worked for better people than you and your cousin.”
“Since I’m taking the afternoon off, I’ll handle the milking this evening. How’s that?” Al asked. “Don’t want you to think I’m shirking.”
Myles smiled to himself. “Don’t feel obligated, Boss. You always do your share of the work. Be good for you to take a few hours to play.”
“But you never do. Wish you’d relax some; then I wouldn’t feel guilty.”
“Maybe you and I could toss a baseball around with Samuel this afternoon.” The prospect lifted Myles’s spirits. He liked nothing better than to spend time with Obadiah “Buck” Watson’s three stepchildren. The retired cowboy preferred to be called “Obie,” but Myles had known him for years as “Buck” and found it impossible to address or even think of his boss by any other name.
“That would be great!” Al sounded like an overgrown schoolboy.
Myles stripped the last drops from Marigold’s teats. Rising, he patted the cow’s bony rump. “You’re a good girl, Goldie.” He nearly tripped over the pushy gray cat as he left the stall. With a trill of expectation, it trotted ahead of him toward the milk cans, where several other felines had already congregated.
Myles found the chipped saucer beneath a bench. Sliding it to the open floor with one foot, he tipped the bucket and poured a stream of milk—on top of a gray and white head. Myles smiled as the cat retreated under the bench, shaking her head and licking as much of her white ruff as she could reach. Another cat began to assist her, removing the milk from the back of her head. “Pushy cat, Pushy cat, where have you been?” Myles crooned.
He filled the saucer until it overflowed; yet it was polished clean within seconds. A few cats had to content themselves with licking drops from the floor or from their companions. Myles tried to count the swarming animals but lost track at twelve.
“Too many cats,” Al remarked, emptying his bucket into a can.
“They keep down the rodent population,” Myles said.
“I know, but the barn’s getting overcrowded. There were a lot of kittens born in the spring, but most of them are gone. I don’t know if they just died or if something killed them.”
Myles squatted and Pushy cat hopped into his lap, kneading his thigh with her paws and blinking her yellow eyes. She seemed to enjoy rubbing her face against his beard. He stroked her smooth back and enjoyed that rumbling purr. Myles knew Al was right, but neither man had an answer for the problem.
“Say, Myles, what if…I mean, are you…do you have any plans to move on? Might you be willing to stay on here over the winter and…I’m not sure how to say this.” Al ran long fingers through his hair, staring at the barn floor.
Myles rubbed the cat and waited for Al to find the words. He had a fair idea what was coming.
“I’m hoping to marry Beulah and take her to California with me—to meet my parents, you know. We would probably be gone for close to a year, and I can’t leave Cousin Buck to run both this place and Fairfield’s Folly alone. I would take it kindly if you would…well, run my farm as if it were yours, just while I’m away, you understand. I would make it worth your while. You don’t need to answer me now; take your time to think it over.”
Myles nodded. In spite of his determination to keep his own counsel, one question escaped. “Have you asked her yet?”
“Asked Beulah? Not yet.” Al’s boots shifted on the floorboards. “That’s the other thing that worries me. She’s…uh…I don’t know that she’ll take to the idea of a quick wedding. We’ve never discussed marriage…but she must know I plan to marry her. Everyone knows.”
Myles glanced at his young boss’s face. “Will you go if she refuses?”
Al looked uncertain. “I could marry her when I get back, but I hate to leave things hanging. Another man could come along and steal her away from me. Maybe I could ask her to wait.” He collapsed on the bench, propped his elbows on his spread knees, and rested his chin on one fist. “She’s really not a flirt, but I can’t seem to pin her down. Every time I try to be serious, she changes the subject. What should I do, Myles?”
Myles rose to his feet and began to rub his flat stomach with one hand. “You’re asking an old bachelor for courtship advice?” He hoped the irony in his voice escaped Al’s notice. “I’ve got no experience with women.”
“No experience at all?” Al’s face colored. “I mean…uh…Sorry.”
Myles shrugged. “No offense taken. I left home at sixteen and bummed around the country for years.”
“What did you do to keep alive?”
“Any work I could find. No time or opportunity to meet a decent woman and had enough sense to avoid the other kind. When I drifted farther west it was the same. You don’t see a lot of women wandering the wilderness.”
“So where are you from?”
“Anywhere and everywhere.” His lips twitched into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “When your cousin hired me and brought me here to Longtree, that was the first time I’d been around women since I was a kid. Guess I don’t know how to behave around females.”
“I didn’t know you were afraid of women. Is that why you almost never go to church or socials?”
Myles lifted a brow. “I didn’t say I was afraid of them. More like they’re afraid of me.”
“If you’d smile and use sentences of more than one syllable, they might discover you’re a decent fellow.”
This prompted a genuine smile. “I’ll try it. Any other advice?”
Al cocked his head and grinned. “That depends on which female has caught your eye. Want to confide in old Al?”
“I’d better cast about first and see if any female will have me,” Myles evaded.
Al chuckled. “Too late. I know about you and Marva Obermeier.”
“About me and…whom?”
“Don’t look so surprised. Since the barn raising at the Obermeiers’ when you and she talked for an hour, everyone in town knows. She’s a nice lady. If you want a little extra to hold and like a woman who’ll do all the talking, Marva is for you.”
“But that was—” Myles began to protest.
“Things aren’t progressing the way you want, eh? You ought to spend evenings getting to know her family, getting comfortable in the home. Try teasing her and see what happens. Nice teasing, I mean. Women enjoy that kind of attention from a man.”
“They do?”
A collie burst through the open barn door. Panicked cats scattered. Both men chuckled. “Good work, Treat.”
Treat grinned and wagged half her body along with her tail, eager to herd the cows to pasture. “Cats are beneath your notice, eh, girl?” Al said, ruffling her ears.
Al carried the milk cans to the dairy. Myles untied the cows and directed Treat to gather them and start them ambling along the path.
Udders swaying, bells clanging, gray noses glistening, the cows did their best to ignore the furry pest at their heels. While Myles held the pasture gate open, Treat encouraged the little herd to pass through. Myles gave one bony bovine a swat before latching the gate behind her. “As usual, last in line. No wandering off today, my ornery old girl.”
The sun was still low in the sky and already the temperature was rising. Myles swung his arms in circles to relieve the kinks. He glanced around. No one watching. He performed a few cartwheels, a round off, then a front flip to back flip in one quick motion. He straightened in triumph, flushed and pleased, arms lifted to greet the morning. The cows and Treat were unimpressed.
“Good thing you’re used to my antics. Hey, Treat, maybe I’ll see Beulah today.” Myles slapped his thighs until the dog placed her front paws on them. He ruffled her fur with both hands. “What do you think, girl? Think Beulah will smile at me?”
Then his grin faded and his heavy boots scuffed in the dirt. Little chance of that while Al was around. Of all the stupid things Myles had ever done, falling in love with his boss’s girl was undoubtedly the worst.
Deep in thought, Beulah Fairfield dumped used dishwater behind her mother’s gladiolus. Something jabbed into her ribs, and the last of the water flew skyward. “Oh!” She spun around, slapping away reaching hands. “Al, stop it!”
Al took the two back steps in a single bound and held the kitchen door for her. “Testy woman. Better make myself useful and return to her good graces.”
She was tempted to suggest that he choose another time to visit, but her mother had chided her several times recently for rudeness. “Thanks.” Beulah forced a smile as she entered the kitchen before him. His return smile seemed equally fake. “Is something wrong, Al?”
He let the door slam behind him. “Nothing much.”
Beulah hung the dishpan on its hook and arranged the dishtowels on the back of the stove to dry. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Uh, sure. Yes, please.”
“Please take a seat at the table, and I will join you presently.”
In another minute, she set down his coffee and seated herself across the table from him. His forehead was pale where his hat usually hid it from the sun; his dark hair looked freshly combed. Beulah knew her apron was spotted, but she was too self-conscious to change to a fresh one in front of Al. Her hair must be a sight—straggling about her face. “I’ve been canning tomatoes all morning.” She indicated the glowing red jars lining the sideboard.
Before Al could comment, Beulah’s sister Eunice burst into the room. The hall door hit the wall and china rattled on the oak dresser. “It was your voice I heard in here! Why did you sneak around to the back door, Al? I was watching for you out front.”
A black and white dog slipped in behind Eunice and thrust her nose into Al’s hand, brushy tail beating against the table legs. “Watchful, shame on you! Get out of the kitchen.” Beulah attempted to shoo the dog away.
“She’s all right.” Petting the dog, Al gave Eunice a halfhearted smile. “I didn’t sneak. My horse is in the barn, big as life. I rode over with Myles. He’s mending the whiffletree the horse kicked apart while we were pulling stumps.”
“Myles is in our barn?” Beulah asked.
“Still want to go for a ride today, do you?” Al asked Eunice as if Beulah had not spoken.
The girl flopped down in the chair beside him. “Of course we want to ride with you. My brother has to finish cleaning the chicken pen, but he’s almost done. I finished my chores. Won’t you teach me to jump today? Please?” She laid her head on Al’s shoulder and gave him her best pleading gaze, batting long lashes.
He chuckled and roughed up her brown curls. “Subtle, aren’t you, youngster? We’ll see. I’d better talk to your parents before we try jumping. To be honest, Blue Eyes, I want to talk with your sister in private for a minute, so could—”
The door popped open again, this time admitting Violet Fairfield Watson, the girls’ mother, with a wide-eyed baby propped upon her shoulder. “Would one of you please take Daniel while I change his bedclothes?” She transferred the baby to Beulah’s reaching arms. “Thank you, dear. Hello, Albert. Will you stay for supper tonight?”
“I…um, thank you, but no, not tonight, ma’am. I…I’ve got to do the milking. I promised the kids we’d go for a ride this afternoon, but then I’ve got to get home and…and get some work done.”
Violet gave him a searching look. “Hmm. Is something wrong, Al?”
Blood colored his face right up to his hairline. “Actually, yes. I got a letter from my mother yesterday. She wants me to come home to California. I’m the oldest son, you know. It’s been five years since I was last home, and my folks want to see me again.”
“I see.” Violet Watson sent Beulah a quick glance before asking Al: “Do you plan to leave soon?”
“I’m not sure, ma’am. That depends…on a lot of things. I’ll have to work out a plan with Cousin Buck—Obie—for care of the farm. I can’t expect Myles to handle everything alone for so long. I mean, he’s just a hired hand.”
“How long is ‘so long’?” Eunice asked, her expression frozen.
“I don’t know. Could be up to a year. The train fare between here and California is no laughing matter. I have to make the visit worth the price.”
“Yes, you do need to speak with Obie about this, Al.” Violet looked concerned. “That is a long time to leave your farm.”
Al held out his hands, fingers spread. “I know, but what else can I do? They’re my parents.”
“But, Al, a whole year? What will we do without you?” Eunice wailed.
Wrapping one long arm around the girl, Al pressed her head to his shoulder. “Miss me, I hope. I’ll be back, Blue Eyes. Never fear.”
Rocking her baby brother in her arms, Beulah watched Al embrace her sister. No more pokes in the ribs, no more mawkish stares. I wonder how soon he will leave?
Baby Daniel began to fuss. Beulah took the excuse to leave the kitchen and wandered through the house, bouncing him on her hip. He waved his arms and kicked her in the thighs, chortling. She heard the others still talking, their voices muffled by intervening doors.
My friends all think I’m the luckiest girl in the world because Al likes me. He is handsome, nice, loves God, has his own farm—he’ll make a great husband for someone. But that someone isn’t me!
She strolled back into the hall, studying the closed kitchen door. No one would notice if she slipped outside. Snatching a basket from a hook on the hall tree, she headed for the barn. Her heart thumped far more rapidly than this mild exertion required. Shifting Daniel higher on her hip, she reached for her hair and winced. No bonnet, and hair like an osprey’s nest. Oh well; too late now. If she didn’t hurry, Myles might finish his work and leave before she had a chance to see him.
A tingle skittered down her spine. Without turning her head, she knew that Myles stood in the barn doorway. The man’s gaze was like a fist squeezing her lungs until she gasped for air. Daniel squawked and thumped his hand against Beulah’s chest. He managed to grasp one of her buttons and tried to pull it to his mouth, diving toward it. Beulah had just enough presence of mind to catch him before he plunged out of her arms.
One ankle turned as she approached the barn, and she staggered. Daniel transferred his attention to the basket hanging from her arm beneath him. He reached for it and once more nearly escaped Beulah’s grasp. “Daniel, stop that,” she snapped in exasperation, feeling bedraggled and clumsy.
“Need a hand?”
Swallowing hard, Beulah lifted her gaze. A little smile curled Myles’s lips. One hand rubbed the bib of his overalls. The shadow of his hat hid his eyes, yet she felt them burning into her.
“I came for eggs,” she said, brushing hair from her face, then hoisting Daniel higher on her hip. “For custard.”
“Your brother Sam headed for the house with a basket of eggs not two minutes back.”
“He did?” Beulah felt heat rush into her face. “I didn’t see him.”
Daniel grabbed at a button again, then mouthed Beulah’s cheek and chin. She felt his wet lips and heard the fond little “Ahh” he always made when he gave her kisses. Unable to ignore the baby’s overtures, she kissed his soft cheek. “I love you, too, Daniel. Now hold still.”
When she looked up, white teeth gleamed through Myles’s sun-bleached beard. “Thought Al was with you.”
“He’s in the kitchen with my mother and Eunice. Daniel and I came out for the eggs. Are you—will you be here long?”
“Might play baseball with Samuel and Al. Glad you came out for a visit.”
Myles appeared to choose his words with care, and his voice…that rich voice curled her toes. Did he know she had come outside in hope of seeing him? Why must her mind palpitate along with her body whenever Myles was near? She was incapable either of analyzing his comments or of giving a lucid reply.
“You haven’t been to our house for a while, and I haven’t seen you at church all summer.”
His smile faded. He took a step closer, then stopped. Did Myles feel the pull, almost like a noose tightening around the two of them and drawing them ever closer together? She had never been this close to him before. Only five or six feet of dusty earth separated them.
Tired of being ignored, Daniel let out a screech and smacked Beulah’s mouth with a slimy hand. Pain and anger flashed; she struggled to hide both. “Daniel, don’t hit.”
The baby’s face crumpled, and he began to wail. Sucking in her lip, Beulah tasted blood. “I think it’s time for his nap.” She spoke above Daniel’s howls. “I’ll try to come back later.”
Myles nodded, waved one hand, and vanished into the barn’s shadows. Beulah trotted toward the house, patting Daniel’s back. “Hush, sweetie. Beulah isn’t angry with you. I know you’re tired and hungry. We’ll find Mama, and everything will be fine.”
Al held the door open for her. “What are you doing out here? What’s wrong with the little guy?”
“Where’s my mother?”
“Upstairs. You going riding with us?” he called.
“No, you go on. I’ve got work to do.” She barely paused on the bottom step.
“Play ball with us later?”
“Maybe.” Beulah hid her grin in Daniel’s soft hair.
Once Daniel was content in his mother’s arms, Beulah returned to the kitchen to work and ponder. Sure enough, a basket of brown eggs waited on the floor beside the butter churn. Samuel must have entered the kitchen right after she left it.
Beulah found her mother’s custard recipe on a stained card and began to collect the ingredients. I’m just imagining that Myles admires me. Probably he watches everyone that way. I scarcely know the man. No one knows much about him. He could be from anywhere—a bank robber or desperado for all we know. It is ridiculous to moon about him when I can have a man like Al with a snap of my fingers. Myles is beneath me socially—probably never went to school. Could never support a family—we would live in a shack…
Al’s words repeated in her mind: Just a hired hand. Just a hired hand. Just a hired hand…