Chapter Six

Cory was in a dreamy half-sleep when she heard the heavy footsteps of a man descend the staircase. At first, she thought nothing of it. It was her father responding to an early morning call. Then she realized she was alone in bed without her youngest sister, Juliet, curled against her back. Her mind focused as she stretched, opened her eyes, and looked around. The bed wasn’t hers, and the footsteps she had heard belonged to Tyler. Any remnant of slumber vanished as she bolted from the bed. She flung open her bedroom door. His footsteps faded down the main hallway and toward the back door.

The barn! She ran to her window and saw him approach the door they had used the night before. He’d find the runaway slave if she didn’t stop him. She tossed off her nightgown and slapped on an old dress she wore for chores. She didn’t have time for undergarments. She didn’t even run a brush through her hair. She hurried down the steps, hopped into the old boots parked by the back door, and barely missed a beat as she dashed across the yard.

The barn door was open, and morning light filtered inside. The barn appeared friendlier than last night. Nell munched on oats while Cory searched for any signs of the slave in her stall. Where was he? Had Tyler already found him? She heard a low baritone voice singing the pro-slavery minstrel song “Dixie.” She followed the music to the cow pen. “What are you doing?”

Tyler sat on a three-legged milking stool with his hands beneath a black and white cow. He tugged on her teats and squirted milk into a wooden bucket beneath her udders. He was still bare to the waist except for the strip of Cory’s petticoat. It was twisted and darkly stained near the wound. He turned his head and looked at her, his head resting against the bovine’s side. “Cory?”

She carefully stepped around the piles of cow dung decorating the hard packed ground and put her hand on the cow’s hindquarters. She attempted a less hysterical pitch. “What are you doing?”

He grinned. “I have my hands on a couple of teats.”

She recalled last night’s shameful actions. She had to put a stop to his innuendos. “I don’t know what the girls are like in Virginia, but the only udders you’re going to touch on this farm are the cows’.”

“Bessie doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Her name is Gertie.”

Tyler had an easy rhythm as he squeezed and squirted milk into the bucket.

“Where did you learn to milk a cow? Harvard dairy?”

Tyler laughed. “A Quaker couple raised me on a farm in Vandalia, Virginia.”

“A Quaker couple?” The Quakers were peace loving, simple folk who dressed plainly and practiced restraint. Tyler hardly fit the mold. “You’re joking.”

“Sarah and James Yoder tolerated my shortcomings.”

“Too bad you didn’t learn modesty from them.”

“I would dress if I could.”

“Your clothes,” she recalled. “I left them in my room.”

“I thought it might be rude to come in uninvited.”

Cory blushed. In her dreams he had entered uninvited but welcomed. All the stirring emotions of last night returned with a wet rush. She needed to put an end to this nonsense. “I need to mend the holes and put your shirt out on the line to dry. It shouldn’t take long. You can probably find a ride into town.”

He stood and lifted the milk bucket safely out of Gertie’s way. “You can’t take me?”

“I have chores to do.” She realized he was doing one of them. “You shouldn’t be working.” She studied his soiled bandage. “You might open your wound.”

He looked around the barn and focused on her. “You do all the work around this farm without any help?”

“You must be used to genteel ladies who can barely lift a pen to write a letter. I take care of the livestock, garden, and help with the cooking, cleaning, and baking,” she rattled off on her fingers.

Tyler untied Gertie and smacked her on the hindquarters. She swatted a few flies with her tail and waited for Cory to open the gate to the pasture.

Cory stepped into the light streaming from the east to let Gertie pass.

Tyler stared at her standing in the morning sun.

She looked down at her attire. The dress was hemmed shorter to keep the material out of the dirt, but the only thing revealed were the old leather boots on her feet. She looked around. “What?”

He touched the ribbon of fabric across his chest. “Did you use your only petticoat for this bandage?”

“No.”

“Then you must have dressed in a hurry.”

“This is an old work dress. You don’t expect me to muck the stalls in silk?”

Tyler put the bucket of milk down on the milking stool, passed the other cow and calf, and grabbed her skirt. He lifted it.

Cory shoved his hands. “What are you doing?” They struggled until he released the fabric.

“I’m no expert on what women wear under their dresses, but I’ll wager you forgot a few things.”

Cory stiffened. How did he know she had nothing underneath her dress? She felt naked under his scrutiny. “I’m covered.”

“In the South, a woman, even on the hottest day, wears at least one petticoat.”

“It’s July, and I normally don’t have a man criticizing my appearance while I’m working in the barn.”

He leaned in close. “I’m surprised you don’t have a dozen men helping you with your chores.”

“What would I do with a dozen men?” She turned her attention to the cow. “Are you going to milk her or should I do it?”

Tyler blocked her path.

“What do you want?”

“I want to know why you kissed me last night.”

“You kissed me.” She needed to correct any misconceptions about her lack of outrage at his actions. “And I didn’t give you permission.”

He stepped closer, inches from her. “You said you were hot.” He brushed back a loose curl from her cheek.

“The barn was stifling.” Cory’s heartbeat raced beneath the thin fabric, and her body responded to his presence in spite of her resolve. Her nipples throbbed and breasts swelled from the memory of his touch. Cory checked her buttons. One twisted off in her hand.

“Fresh hay in the loft,” Tyler whispered. “Wouldn’t take much effort to shed what clothes we’re wearing.”

Cory fought the desire to lift her skirt and accept his offer to show their nakedness. She was no better than an animal in heat. What was this strange base urge to mate? “I have no intention of rolling around in the hay with you.”

He turned and moved the milking stool under the other cow. “Then I might as well milk Bessie.”

Cory was stunned. No outrageous propositions? No pursuit? Wasn’t he equally affected? She followed him to the cow. “That’s Lulu.”

“Aren’t any of your cows named Bessie?”

“No, and the calf is a bull.”

“Well, I had a cow named Bessie, and she gave milk without even squeezing. Never once kicked me or smacked me with her tail.”

“Are you comparing me to a cow?”

“I loved that cow.” Tyler milked Lulu. “I cried all the way home when I had to take her to the butcher.”

He sounded sincere in his affection. “I’m sorry. My sisters and I are always becoming attached to the animals on the farm, but I didn’t think men did.”

“She was sweet.” He looked at her. “Unlike some females.”

Did he think she was naïve to fall for this new tactic to seduce her? She patted his shoulder while restraining a slap to the back of his head. “Didn’t you have any human friends, Tyler?”

“You may scoff, but I had plenty of friends in my younger days.” He winked. “Even had a girlfriend.”

“Bessie?”

He frowned. “Funny. Her name was Reggie Johnston, and she was a skinny little girl with dirty blonde hair and big owl-like eyes. Mrs. Yoder tutored her along with me and a few other children. They were miners’ brats and lived in tiny shacks no bigger than your chicken coop.”

“How old were you when this torrid romance began?”

“I was nearly nine when she started coming to the house for schooling. Reggie was three years younger and was missing her front teeth.” Tyler made a face. “Kind of a homely child. She was horribly shy and traumatized from working in the coal mines.”

Cory gasped. “A six-year-old girl worked in the mines?”

“Younger,” he corrected. “They used small children to fit into the tight spaces in that hole of black gold. I only went down once on a dare and never complained again about helping Mr. Yoder in his sweat box of a blacksmith’s workroom. Hell’s heat was a lot easier to take than hell’s darkness. A candle never quite dispels the thick shadows. Reggie was five when the other miners lost her.”

“Lost?” Cory tried to fathom what he meant. “In the dark? In the mine?”

“It took nearly two days before they found her. I remember Mrs. Yoder talking about her and how concerned she was for the little, lost girl. When they finally carried her out of the hole, she was hoarse from screaming. She never worked in the mines again. Couldn’t. She was terrified of the dark. Mrs. Yoder offered to school her. She barely talked at first. I made friends with her by giving her candles. She was afraid she’d run out. She’d take a candle over candy any day of the week.”

“That was sweet of you,” Cory gushed. “What happened to her?”

“I left for boarding school when I was fourteen. She was crying about missing me, and I worked up the nerve to kiss her. First time I kissed a girl. It startled her so much, she stopped crying.” He paused. “I was too young to appreciate the moment. I came home summers and watched her grow older and prettier each year. She helped Mrs. Yoder with the chores around the house to pay for schooling and shadowed me everywhere. Then she grew into a young lady and stopped following me.”

“And you fell in love with her.” Cory took his silence as affirmation. “Why didn’t you marry her?”

Tyler finished milking Lulu. She trotted to the pasture with her calf chasing her. He placed the bucket on top of the stool. “She married another man.”

“Why?”

“She said she was in love with him.”

“But what about you?”

He rested his hand on his chest. “Broken heart.”

“And I thought your feelings ran more toward passion than sentiment,” she countered.

“I wouldn’t have described my feelings for anything or anyone as passionate until last night.” He stepped toward her. “And my desire hasn’t diminished in the daylight.” His deep voice was husky.

Cory turned her back on him before he saw confirmation of her own desire. “I don’t think Mr. Douglas Raymond would approve of your words.”

“Douglas Raymond? Was he the man who called last night?”

Cory faced him. “You saw him?”

“You’re not going to waste your charms on that Ichabod?”

Cory prickled at his insult. “He’s a mathematics instructor at Western Reserve College in Hudson. He graduated from Yale.”

“Figures.”

“You didn’t hesitate to brag about graduating from Harvard.” She stuck a ladle in the bucket of milk and poured it into a small bowl on the floor. Several cats emerged from the barn’s nooks and crevices to drink the milk. She hung the ladle on a nail.

“Do you plan to marry him?”

Cory turned to face him, surprised he was only a deep breath away. She attempted an escape, but the barn steps were in the way. “He’s a good catch.” She ducked underneath the staircase and paused in the narrow alley next to the horse stalls.

He continued to advance. “I’d tell you to throw him back in, but I’m a man. I guess women know what they want.” He spread his arms across the hallway and leaned into her. “But explain to me what makes Douglas such a good husband?”

She ducked under his arm and moved to a safe distance in the cow pen. “He comes from a good family. He’s well educated, and he has a promising future as a professor.”

“Those are impressive traits.” He shook his head. “I doubt if I could compete against such a man.”

Cory rolled her eyes. “This is where you tell me you’re a lawyer.”

“You’re forgetting the part about a good family.”

“You said the Yoders were Quakers. There can’t be any scandal there.” She paused as she recalled part of his confession. “You said something about a blacksmith.”

“Mr. Yoder is a blacksmith. I worked summers in his shop.”

Cory shook her head in disbelief. “That’s how you ended up so big and strong.” She also recalled something else. The runaway slave was trained as a blacksmith. His slave, Noah.

Tyler grinned. “You think I’m big and strong?”

He was a slave owner. The heat of his proximity turned cold. “It doesn’t matter. The only man I’m interested in is Mr. Raymond.”

“Are you going to tell him about our lovemaking in the barn?”

Cory gasped. “We didn’t make love! It was a kiss.”

Tyler leaned in close. “When Douglas kisses you, do you respond the way you did last night?”

“No!” Cory automatically answered. “I mean, he hasn’t kissed me.”

“What?”

She squared her shoulders. “He’s a gentleman.”

“A fool,” he said. “A man doesn’t go through all the tea sipping and hand holding for nothing.”

She scowled. “Is a woman’s companionship so boring there must be some physical reward at the end of the evening?”

“It helps.”

Cory’s temper took off like an angry hornet. “Well, if you think I’m going to bare my breast and wiggle my hips to keep your attention, you’re wrong, Mr. Montgomery. There will be no repeat of last night’s mistake. You can find some other innocent girl and seduce her into a kiss.”

“Innocent girl?” He ran his finger along her jawline and lifted her chin so her gaze met his. “Honey, I could take lessons from you in seduction.”

She jerked away. “I may have given you the wrong impression, but let me make this clear. I won’t compromise my principles for any man, especially a slave owner.”

“But if I wasn’t a slave owner, you’d consider me for a beau?”

“I’d want to know you better, and that would involve silly tea parties and boring walks in each other’s company.”

“Oh, I think we know each other well enough.” He winked. “And if I did marry you, I could steal as many kisses as I wanted and more.”

Cory blushed.

“Don’t be embarrassed, my love. Douglas won’t hesitate to toss your skirts over your head once he has a ring on your finger.”

She stomped her foot. “That’s not true.”

Tyler studied her from head to toe. His gaze lingered on the gap her missing button exposed on her bodice. “A husband has rights, and a man doesn’t marry without an intention to enforce those rights. And you won’t be able to do anything about it.”