Making Hay (5 page)

But lust after her he had. She’d smiled her sweet innocent smile, and he’d gone as hot and hard as if Miss Mabel had run a long fingernail up his thigh.

Lessy was the kind of woman a man married, his father had said so. Even Vass could see the truth of that. Marriage was the perfect idea, he’d thought at first.

“That Lessy sure looks like Grandma Rooker,” his father said to him that first day.

Vass had studied her face. He remembered his greatgrandmother only vaguely and could see nothing of the withered visage he remembered in the young, smooth cheeks before him. Still, Pa had said that it was so. And he found it disconcerting to imagine desire and lust with a ringer for Grandma Rooker.

So every time he looked at her, he thought of Grandma Rooker so he could keep his thoughts pure. And he’d managed to mend his ways.

Within a year he knew that to have a saint like Lessy for a wife would be more than any man could ask of heaven. But his dreams were still filled with sinful thoughts ...

Lessy was standing in front of him now, offering a dipper of cool water and looking at him curiously.

“What on earth are you thinking about, Vassar?” she asked. “I’ll swan, you look to have your mind half across the globe.”

He took the dipper and drank it down. “Looks like it’s going to rain,” he said with a gesture toward the western sky.

Lessy turned to look in that direction, raising a hand to her brow to shade the afternoon sun from her eyes.

“How far away is it?” she asked.

Vass had allowed his eyes to drop to the curve of her bosom and then mentally cursed himself for his weakness. He brought his gaze to her face to find her looking at him.

“What?” he asked with a nervous cough.

“The rain. How far away is the rain?”

“Oh! Late this evening or tonight, I suppose,” he said. “I hope it clears up by morning. I’d hate to lose more than a day.”

Suddenly Ripley was there, his arm slung casually around Lessy’s waist, his voice loud and teasing. “You hear that, honey,” he said. “Your bridegroom is so anxious to tie the knot, he’s wishing the rain away. Never heard tell of a farmer doing that in all my days.”

“Plenty do it in a flood,” Doobervale piped in.

Rip gave a little moue of agreement and nodded his head. “A flood, you are right about that. And what we’ve got here is a flood of love.”

The crew chuckled at his words, clearly enjoying the joke on the young couple.

Lessy laughed also as she elbowed Ripley playfully. “You are the biggest sack of foolishness God ever put into the body of a man.”

Rip grinned at her. “And what does a sweet little farm girl like you know about men’s bodies?”

Lessy’s hand flew to her mouth in shock. Vass felt his whole muscles going tense, and his jaw set dangerously.

“Whoops,” Rip said quietly as he caught sight of Vassar’s expression. With exaggerated motions he withdrew his arm from Lessy’s waist and stepped back with his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Just teasing, Mr. Muldrow, sir. What’s a wedding without a little good-natured teasing?”

The humorous murmurs from the other men seemed to be in agreement, so Vass let his anger go.

Although not completely. A part of him continued to simmer that Ripley had made suggestive remarks to Lessy.

And that she hadn’t fainted away in shock and horror.

T
he rain had arrived just
after darkness fell, but it had not dissipated with the dawn. Dismal gray clouds hung overhead, and a slow steady shower rained down on the farm.

Lessy slogged through her chores with less enthusiasm than usual. Vass had been avoiding her since their talk in the parlor, and she feared that he thought the worst of her. She knew Vass to be a very moral, very upright gentleman. He must be horrified by her commonness.

Sugie Jo had once complained bitterly about how men— all men, young and old, rich or poor, farmer or tradesman—turned into twelve-handed boars in rut when they found themselves alone with a woman. Lessy was sure that Sugie Jo exaggerated, as was her nature, but even Mammy said a fellow was likely to try to steal a kiss.

Vassar, however, had never so much as made an improper suggestion.

And she was beginning to suspect why.

Vass, her Vass, had hummed a naughty ditty as he worked beside her. It seemed that Vassar perhaps wasn’t the stalwart young man she thought him to be. Perhaps it wasn’t his high moral nature that kept him at a distance from her. Perhaps it was something lacking in herself. When he was alone with her, he thought about farming. If he were to be alone with Sugie Jo, would his thoughts be different?

“All work and no play makes the bride look tired on her wedding day!”

Lessy started at the unexpected voice and turned in the direction of the caller. She spied Ripley seated underneath the tarp that the men had raised over their little camp. A light glowed from a lantern beside him, highlighting his face.

With a wave of his arm he called her over.

She walked closer, within easy speaking distance but still far from the tarp. “I can’t come in there,” she protested.

Rip gave her a look of long-suffering patience. “Now, Miss Lessy,” he said with light sarcasm. “It is broad daylight, and anybody within a half mile of the farmhouse can see us plainly. Come on inside and get out of the rain. I’ve got something to show you.”

Lessy hesitated a minute more and then shrugged. Rip was absolutely right. The tarp may be where the men slept, but on a day like this it was hardly a private assignation. She stepped beneath the cover of the tent and pulled the sodden rain bonnet from her hair.

“Where are the rest of the men?” she asked.

Rip shrugged. “In the barn, I suppose, cleaning harness.”

Lessy nodded. It seemed a likely occupation on such a day. “Why aren’t you helping?”

“I will if they ask me,” he said. “But if they don’t notice that I’m not there, I’m not about to point it out.”

“You’d rather sit out here and do nothing?” Her expression was incredulous.

“I’m doing something.”

“What are you doing?”

“Drawing.”

“Drawing? Pictures? Oh, let me see!” There was enthusiasm in her voice as she hurriedly seated herself beside him.

Rip seemed amused at her excitement and a little apologetically handed her the paper he was working on. Lessy stared at it curiously. The pen and ink drawing was all circles and perfectly straight lines. She couldn’t quite make out what it was supposed to be. Biting her lip nervously and glancing at him under lowered lids, she turned the picture upside down, hoping the image would reveal itself. It did not.

“It’s lovely,” she said politely.

Rip laughed out loud and leaned over to squeeze her shoulders. “Lovely? Well, ma’am, you must really have farming in your blood to see a side-loading packer binder and think it lovely.”

“A side-loading packer binder?”

Her expression was so dumbstruck, Rip squeezed her shoulders again. “Yes, Miss Lovely Lessy. This is my latest design. I’ve been working on it all summer. Hope by fall to sell it to one of the farm implement companies, McCormick or Ralston maybe.”

“You design farm implements?”

Rip nodded. “Indeed I do.” He pulled a tablet wrapped in sealskin from his grip. “I’ve designed machines that will do everything on a farm but kiss the babies.”

“Let me see.”

He did, showing her page after page of neat, intricate mechanical drawings.

“If what you really do is design farm equipment, why are you working on a hay crew?”

Rip shrugged. “I design equipment,” he said. “You only make money if you sell your designs.”

“But you said McCormick or Ralston—”

Rip shook his head. “I’m dreaming,” he admitted. ‘They have more engineers and draftsmen in those companies than ticks on a blue hound. They aren’t very likely to buy something from outside when they can get it from their own people for free.”

“But you keep trying.”

“Can’t stop,” he said. “Once you start a thing, it kind of gets in your blood and you can’t get away from it. It doesn’t seem to matter what the truth is or if it’s the right thing to do. Once you’ve invested a goodly amount of time on something, it seems you just can’t quit it. It’s funny really.”

Lessy didn’t think it was a bit funny. That was exactly what she had done with Vass. She’d decided that she wanted to marry him, and she’d pursued him obstinately. Now she was only weeks away from the wedding, and she was wondering if their perfect matchup was full of corn borers.

“If I had a lick of sense,” Rip was saying, “I’d quit this nonsense and find me a real job.”

“No, not that,” Lessy told him. “If you had a lick of sense you’d go into business for yourself.”

Rip laughed humorlessly. “Me and whose bank?”

“You don’t need a bank, you just need some farmers with a little money to invest. And there is no better place to find those than right here. We’ve had three good harvests in a row. Folks here about are looking for a good place to put what’s stuffed in the mattress.”

“Nobody around here even knows me.”

‘They don’t have to know you, just your designs. I’m no engineer, but some of the farmers around here know a lot about equipment. If it’s really good, they’ll be able to tell.”

Ripley shrugged, not quite dismissing her idea.

“I can see it now,” she said. “Rip Ripley Farm Machinery.” She hesitated. “No, that will never do. What is your given name?”

“My given name?”

“Your given name. John Ripley, Will Ripley, Chester Ripley?”

He shook his head. “Just Ripley, ma’am. My name is such an embarrassment, 1 don’t even remember it anymore.”

Lessy nodded. “All right. Then Ripley and Sons—that sounds very official, don’t you think? The kind of long term solid company a farmer can trust.”

“I have no sons.”

She waved away his concern. “Believe me, when you own your own manufacturing company, some woman will marry you up real fast.”

“They might try.”

Lessy laughed. “Oh, a confirmed bachelor. I suppose you know that women love a challenge.”

His expression was careless and his shrug teasing. “Seriously, though,” she said, “I believe that we should all try to find a way to achieve our heart’s desire. It is such a waste of our gifts if we don’t.”

Ripley’s expression became solemn. “I’m going to do it someday. I just have to wait for the right time, settle down, and get started.”

“I could ask Vassar to have a look at your drawings, if you like,” she said. “I’m sure he has money to invest.” Her sincerity and determination showed clearly on her face, and the sight brought a warm tenderness to Ripley’s smile. He brought a hand to her cheek and smoothed away a damp tendril of hair that clung there.

“You are really a fine kind of woman, Lessy. You are surely what God had in mind when he used the word helpmate."

Lessy’s eyes widened, and she shook her head in disagreement. “No, I’m not really like that,” she confessed. “I pretend to be that way, but I’m really just foolish and selfish.”

Rip’s expression turned quizzical. “What a strange thing to say.”

Lessy blushed. “It’s true,” she said quietly. Suddenly she wanted somebody to know the truth. “I’m really not as hardworking and temperate as I seem.”

“You’re not?” Ripley clearly did not believe her, but was intrigued by the possibility.

“I. .. well, I started acting that way for Vass.”

Raising an eyebrow, he looked at her curiously. “Vass wants you to act hardworking and temperate?”

“Oh, no. I mean yes.” She was both confused and embarrassed at her own revelation. “Well, he doesn’t know that it’s an act. He thinks I really am the person I’ve been pretending to be.”

Rip leaned closer, resting his hand on his chin. “And why have you been pretending to be some other person, Miss Lessy?”

“I’m not exactly pretending to be another person. I’m just... well, I’m trying to be the woman that Vass would want to marry.” She lowered her head shamefully. “I can’t believe I’ve told this to you. It’s really terrible, isn’t it?”

She looked up to find Rip grinning ear to ear. “Yes, Lessy, it is very terrible, a sin of major proportions to allow your intended to think the best of you. But, truth to tell, I’ve never met a woman—or a man, either—that was exactly what he seemed to be before the wedding.” “Well,” Lessy admitted, “maybe most folks are on their best behavior before the wedding, but I’m just an out- and-out liar. Vass doesn’t know that I have a temper or that I daydream during Sunday School or that I only like gardening because it gives me an excuse to dig around in the dirt like a gopher.”

Rip smiled at her. “I doubt the man will care. When a fellow’s in love, he can forgive a lot in a woman.”

“What if he’s not in love?” Lessy’s words were only a whisper.

Rip took her chin in his hand and raised her eyes to his. “None of that nonsense,” he said. “Vassar Muldrow is so much in love, he looks like a mule hit between the eyes with a poleax.”

She was doubtful, but she didn’t want to confess the rest. “But he’s in love with someone I’ve pretended to be.” Rip shook his head. “He’s in love with you, Lessy Green. Believe me, when that man is kissing your sweet lips, the last thing he’s thinking about is what occupies your mind during Sunday School.”

That was the problem, Lessy thought with despair. He didn’t seem to want to kiss her.

The rain finally stopped late in the day, and the sun came out with blistering ferocity. Steam rose from the ground in eerie little patches, and the men were as wet from sweat as if they were still working in the rain.

Because dinner was early and the day had been a slow one, it was expected that Vass and Lessy would walk out after supper. Both knew that it would appear strange if they did not. But both would have forgone the experience if they’d been offered the chance.

Vass rose from the table and offered Lessy his arm in a most gentlemanly fashion. This action drew a tableful of catcalls, and the two embarrassed young people could not get away from the group quickly enough. They walked in silence as far as the peach orchard, when the strain became too much for Lessy.

“I’m sorry about the song,” she said. She didn’t look at him, and unable to gauge his reaction, she blundered on. “It was the kind of distressing moment that a woman should have just forced herself to immediately forget. I should never have passed on the incident like a careless piece of gossip.”

“It was all my fault, Lessy, and I do beg your forgiveness. But please let us not talk about it anymore.”

Lessy nodded agreeably as she mentally berated herself for once again bringing the subject up. Talking so openly and easily with Rip had loosened her guard. She had to remind herself how Vass preferred women who were more upstanding.

Conversation waned as Vass was loath to bring up the farm for discussion and Lessy was second-guessing every thought that came to mind.

“Did you know that Mr. Ripley does mechanical drawing?” she asked finally.

Vass looked at her curiously. In memory he could see the two of them with their heads together giggling like children. It was an incongruous image, but one that had him stinging with jealousy. “No, I was not aware of that,” he said.

“Well, I saw some of his drawings today, and I really think that you should have a look at them.”

“Really?”

With the natural confusion of the nonmechanically minded, Lessy explained the side-loading packer binder, the double row corn planter, and the other implements that she had seen. Vass listened with some interest as he watched the enthusiastic expression on Lessy’s face. Was she enthusiastic about the machines or about the man?

“He’s really quite talented, and I thought you might look at his work and give him your opinion.”

Vass nodded. “Well, certainly I would. Roscoe said that he was very handy with the equipment, but I never would have guessed he had ideas for machines of his own.”

Lessy smiled. “He says the implement companies are not interested in inventions from outsiders. But I think he could go into business for himself if his ideas were sound and he had some farmer investors to back him.”

“It’s certainly possible,” Vass said, slightly surprised by her enthusiasm. He’d never doubted that Lessy had a keen mind; she always agreed with him. But she’d never come up with ideas of her own.

“You like Ripley, don’t you?” His question was somewhat abrupt.

Lessy was momentarily taken aback. “Well, yes, of course I like him. He’s a very entertaining man. He tells such funny stories, I swan, he has me laughing all the time.”

Vass wondered if he himself ever made her laugh. At that moment he couldn’t remember a single time.

“The fellows tell me he’s very popular with women,” Vass said tentatively.

Lessy grinned. “I’m sure that he is. My lands, the things he says! He must be breaking hearts all across Arkansas.”

Because she said it with good humor, Vass didn’t tell her that her little joke was very likely true.

“I didn’t see Rip in the bam today. Where did you talk to him?”

Lessy couldn’t meet Vassar’s eyes. “Under the tarp,” she said a little too hurriedly. “We were just sitting under the tarp to be out of the rain.”

Having been beneath that tarp on several occasions, a mental image flashed through Vassar’s brain of an eight by ten foot space that was a long row of bedrolls—men’s bedrolls. The color drained from his face.

“We were just getting out of the rain,” Lessy said again.