Summer Breeze (20 page)

What was
that
all about?

Thirty minutes later when Joseph shoved half of a fluffy, buttered biscuit into his mouth and decided it was equal to none, he knew exactly what his problem was. He'd found the perfect woman.

The realization did not make him happy. He didn't want a woman. Well—he
did
want a woman.

What red-blooded man
didn 't
want a woman? But he didn't want just
one
woman. He liked variety—plump ones, skinny ones, big-breasted ones and little-breasted ones, tall ones and short ones, bubbly ones and somber ones.
Always
plural.

Only when he looked at Rachel, he didn't think about variety. She was so darned pretty and nice.

It almost didn't seem right that she also cooked like a dream, played poker, and loved dogs.

The woman was out to get him.

He chewed and glared at her butt. She was bending over like that on purpose. He knew she was.

What woman in her right mind opened an oven door to wash away a few drippings and pushed out her rump like

that at a man? Nearly under his nose, give or take a few feet. It was almost an engraved invitation.

Come and get me.
Well,
he
wasn't harkening to the call. Down that path lay marriage, responsibility, and no more Friday nights in town.

He really,
really
needed a night in town. Calving season had kept him at home for going on a month now, and he was as horny as a three-pronged goat.
That
was why her butt looked so good to him, because any woman would tempt him right now.

He pushed another half of a biscuit into his mouth, chomped down, and bit his cheek. Pain radiated. "Damn!"

"Oh,
dear\
What's wrong?" Rachel and her rump raced over to the table. "Did I put in too much baking powder?"

"No, my tooth's just panging." He didn't know where that had come from. But as lies went, it was fair to middling. "The biscuits are fine."

She fixed him with worried blue eyes. He wondered if she practiced in front of a mirror to look that sweet.

"I've got just the thing for that," she said, and raced off to the water closet. "Oil of Cajeput on cotton wool. I keep a few balls from the apothecary on hand. Every now and again, Darby gets a toothache."

Joseph finished his meal in stony silence. When he'd cleared all but two slices of bacon from his plate, he pushed up from the table, tossed the meat to his dog, and advanced on the sink.

"Just never you mind the dishes," she said. "Sit back down so I can doctor that tooth."

If this wasn't a fine predicament, Joseph didn't

know what was. His teeth were fine, but unless he confessed to fibbing, he couldn't very well tell her that. Not knowing what else to do, he sat back down.

She came to hover over him and told him to open his mouth. "Which one is hurting?" she asked.

The scent of roses intoxicated him as she pressed closer and cupped the back of his head with a slender hand. "Naw her," he said. It wasn't easy to talk with his mouth open.

"What?"

One of her breasts was pushing close. He closed his mouth. "I'm not sure."

"Oh, well. That happens sometimes. Open wide, and I'll have a look."

He definitely had an ache now, but it was a long way from his head. Old Glory had gone rock hard and started to throb. He opened his mouth and tipped his head back. She bent to peer in, the pleated front of her shirtwaist grazing his jaw and then the soft, warm weight of her breast coming to rest against his shoulder. God help him, he'd never wanted a woman so badly in his life.

"There it is," she informed him. "Oh, yes, I can see the cavity. You might consider seeing the dentist, Joseph. It needs to be filled, I think."

His eyebrows arched in surprise, but with her fingers in his mouth, he couldn't speak. A nasty smell filled his nostrils, totally obliterating the rose scent. It burned down the back of his throat.

"There you go," she chirped. "Bite down."

He brought his teeth down on the cotton wool, and pain exploded all along his jaw. He came up out of the

chair so fast that he almost knocked Rachel over. "Ouch! Oh,
damn!"
He ran a finger into his mouth to scoop out the wool, then ran to the sink and started spitting. "What
is
that shit?
Ouch.

Oh,
damn!"

"It only hurts for a moment."

Easy for her to say. It wasn't her tooth that was shooting pain clear through her gray matter and out the top of her skull. If he hadn't had a toothache before, he sure as hell did now. "You
knew
it was going to hurt? Why in hell didn't you tell me?" He gingerly prodded the tooth. A cavity? He'd always had perfect teeth. "If that doesn't beat all. I
do
have a cavity back there."

"You really need to keep the wool on it for a few minutes."

Joseph ran some water to rinse his mouth. The pain was finally lessening. "No, thanks. The cure is worse than the toothache."

"It really will help," she insisted.

Free of aches now—in
all
parts of his body— Joseph wiped his mouth on his shirtsleeve and turned to give her a wary look. Old Glory had shriveled up and dived for cover. "It's better already," he assured her.

She beamed a beatific smile. "There, you see? It works for Darby every time."

Accustomed to constant physical activity, Joseph couldn't stand to just sit, so he decided to help Rachel. Over his lifetime, he'd made bread and butter countless times, but he'd never made any kind of cheese.

"This is kind of fun," he said as he minded the large pot of milk heating on the stove while Rachel bustled

around him. She had already added a quarter teaspoon of starter to the milk, and here in a bit they would let it ripen while they churned the butter. For now, the milk had to be heated to a certain temperature before she added the rennet to make it curdle. "What'll it taste like when it's done?"

She laughed lightly. "Well, now, it's my hope that it'll taste like cheddar cheese."

He chuckled. "I mean before it ages."

"It's not very good before it ages, just pressed and drained curd that's lightly salted."

Soon Rachel judged the milk to have reached the right temperature, and she added some rennet mixed with a little water. When it was stirred in, they set the pot on the counter by the sink. "It'll have to sit now for about forty-five minutes until the milk breaks clean."

Once again, Joseph found himself with nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs. William Shakespeare had hit the nail on the head, he decided. Dreams were the children of an idle brain.

He couldn't keep his eyes off Rachel, and his imagination kept taking him places he didn't want to go. Would she surrender her mouth to him just as completely if he kissed her again? And what would it be like to unfasten that prim little shirtwaist to unveil those soft, full breasts?

In desperation, Joseph reached for the book that lay open on the table.
"The Adventures of
Huckleberry Finn?"

Rachel glanced up from the sink where she was lining a colander with cheesecloth. "Have you read it?"

Since his school days had ended, Joseph seldom

read anything unless it pertained to horses, cows, or raising crops. "No, I can't say that I have."

"How about
The Adventures of Tom Sawyer?"

"Nope."

She went to one of the bookshelves along the water closet wall and returned a moment later with a leather-bound novel. "You first meet Huckleberry in this story." She sat across from him, turned up the lamp wick, and lovingly opened the book, her graceful fingers caressing the pages as if they were old friends. "Let me just read a bit of it to you."

Joseph was glad of anything that might take his mind off Rachel and her tempting curves. Thirty minutes later, he was lost in the tale, envisioning the small town of St. Petersburg along the shore of the Mississippi River and laughing over Tom Sawyer's shenanigans, which frequently resulted in his receiving a licking from his aunt Polly.

"That darned Sid is a terrible tattletale," he remarked.

Rachel smiled and pushed the book toward him. "It's time for me to drain the curds and churn the butter. Why don't you read aloud to me while I work?"

Joseph took the book and rocked back on the chair while he found their place. Soon he was lost in the story again. As he read, he was dimly aware of Rachel bustling around the kitchen or occasionally coming to sit.

As punishment for skipping school to go swimming, Tom had to whitewash the fence around Aunt Polly's house. Only, being the smooth talker that he

was, he convinced some neighbor boys to finish the job for him.

Time flew by on swift wings as the story unfolded. Tom fell wildly in love with a girl named Becky Thatcher, the judge's daughter, and got his heart broken. Then one night, he and Huck sneaked off at midnight to the graveyard to perform a special ritual to cure warts. Convinced that the cemetery was filled with ghosts, the two boys were sore afraid of seeing one.

Joseph chuckled and glanced up at Rachel. "I guess I'm not the only one afraid of spooks."

She grinned. "Keep reading."

Within moments, Joseph's skin had developed goose bumps. Frightened into hiding by approaching voices, the boys accidentally witnessed a trio of grave robbers pilfering a grave.

Only soon a fight broke out among the three men, and Tom and Huck witnessed something far worse: a murder. Terrified for their lives, the boys ran. Later they made a pact never to tell anyone of what they'd seen because they were afraid that the murderous Injun Joe might kill them, too.

"This is good," Joseph confessed when he stopped reading to give his voice a rest. "I didn't expect to enjoy it so much."

Rachel worked at the counter, pouring curds into cloth-lined cheese molds. "I absolutely
love
that book, and
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
is even better, I think. Truly Twain's masterpiece."

Joseph went back to reading. A while later, Rachel took another turn as the narrator, and before they knew it, it was time for lunch. While helping to make sandwiches, Joseph marveled aloud over the story. "I haven't been back down south since I was knee-high to a tall grasshopper, but that story makes me feel like I'm actually there."

"Reading is one of my favorite pastimes," she confessed, her cheeks going rosy. "Books bring the world into my kitchen. I can feel the sunlight on my skin, feel the summer breeze in my hair, smell the flowers, and hear the birds sing. Without my books, I truly believe I would shrivel up and die."

Joseph was glad that she had had her books to sustain her, but it saddened him deeply that her only glimpses of the world came to her through the written word. He could tell by her tone that she yearned to feel the sun warm her skin again and that she sorely missed dozens of other pleasures that could only be found outdoors. In that moment, he would have given almost anything to make it possible for her to experience those things again. Sadly, he couldn't think how.

Ace showed up shortly after two that afternoon, ready to stand guard duty while Joseph went to town. Rachel's face fell with disappointment when Ace called through the back door that Caitlin hadn't accompanied him this time.

"We had church this morning, and Caitlin had plans for this afternoon," Ace explained. "She said to tell you that she'll try to come next time."

Joseph slipped out through the archway door. When Rachel had barred it behind him, he exited the house via the broken window to go around back to see his brother. Barking joyously, Buddy and Cleveland met

in the side yard and tumbled to the ground in a blur of reddish-gold and white fur. When the dogs regained their feet, they raced away, taking turns nipping at each other's heels and knocking each other down. Joseph saw them sail over a pasture fence and then vanish in the tall grass. Knowing full well that they would return when they'd played themselves out, Joseph didn't bother calling them back.

"Howdy," Ace called from where he sat on the steps. "Nice weather we've got today."

Joseph nodded in agreement. "It is a beautiful afternoon. Spring is in the air." He gazed off across the tree-studded pastures that stretched as far as the eye could see, wishing that Rachel could come out to enjoy the sunshine. "It's shirtsleeve warm, and that's a fact. A mighty nice change, if you ask me."

"It being the Sabbath, Caitlin can't do any actual chores, so she's out hoeing her garden rows, getting ready to plant."

Joseph had lived in the same household with his sister-in-law long enough to know that she didn't think of gardening as work. The girl flat loved her plants. Every year at the first of February, she lined every windowsill in the house with her garden starts and could scarcely wait to transplant them.

"I keep telling her it's way too early to put anything out yet," Ace went on, "but she'll have her way about it, I reckon. Then along will come a frost to kill all her sprouts, and I'll have to buy her some chocolate drops to cheer her back up."

Joseph chuckled. "You spoil that girl rotten. No

worries about the seed she'll waste, only about how sad she'll be if a frost kills her plants."

Ace just shrugged. "I can buy her a wagonload of seed and never miss the money. Anything that makes her happy is okay by me."

"She's happy, Ace. The woman thinks the sun rises and sets on your ass."

Ace barked with laughter, throwing back his head so sharply that he lost his hat. His black hair glistened like jet in the bright sunlight. "You do have a way with words, little brother."

"I've been told that a lot lately." Joseph went to sit on the steps to have a smoke before he hooked up the team to Rachel's buckboard and loaded all her commodities. Harrison Gilpatrick always opened the general store after Sunday morning services so churchgoers who came into town only once a week could replenish their supplies. "How's the boy's lip today?"

"Fine, just fine." Ace's eyes softened with warmth. "He's playing in the dirt with his ma and having himself a grand old time."