Courting Miss Callie. Dorothy Clark

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      Chapter Five

      Callie clutched the hastily assembled bundle in her arms and hurried down the path. If she were quick enough, she could climb into the shay before Ezra could secure the basket on the shelf in back and come around to assist her. Since it was certain he would. The man’s manners were faultless. But, after this morning, she was leery of letting him hand her into the vehicle. Not that he’d done anything wrong. Far from it.

      She laid the bundle on the seat, gripped the dashboard, placed her booted foot on the small iron rung and stepped up. Ezra’s actions had been innocent enough—even heroic, saving her from a possible burn. And he had made no attempt to take advantage of the situation—as her wealthy suitors would have done. For that she was grateful. Still, the thought of her hand in his was unsettling. The man made her nervous. Which was odd, since she had no such reaction to the wealthy men courting her. Indeed, she had become quite adept at escaping their advances without causing offense. Her father had cautioned that she was not to offend the suitors he permitted to call. After all, it might lower their bid for her hand.

      The bitter thought stole the luster from the sunny day. She frowned, shook out her long skirts, settled herself and lifted the bundle onto her lap. The shay trembled as the weight of the basket hit the shelf and the attached straps were tugged tight around it. Ezra’s boots crunched on the gravel. A flutter rippled through her stomach. She stole a sidelong glance as he stepped to the hitching post. There was no sign of a limp. And the swelling on his head was gone—though the scab of the healing gash was visible at his crown. What was the truth about Ezra Ryder? He was no more a logger than she. Why did he lie? He turned toward the shay, the freed reins held in his hand, and she jerked her gaze from him. Heat crept into her cheeks. And of what concern were Ezra Ryder’s doings to her? She had troubles enough of her own to ponder. She straightened in the seat and pulled her burnoose close about her.

      The vehicle dipped left as Ezra stepped up, ducked beneath the hood and took his seat. His shoulder brushed against hers. She scooted as far right as possible in the narrow space and looked straight ahead, wishing that Sophia had ordered the carriage brought around instead of the smaller shay.

      “Ready?”

      She glanced over and met Ezra’s smiling gaze. Another flutter tickled her stomach. She must have been feeling more confined since her arrival than she realized if the prospect of a simple ride to the country brought such a reaction. She pressed the bundle hard against her abdomen to stop the sensation and nodded. “Yes.”

      He made a clicking sound and shook the reins. Star moved forward and the shay rolled along the graveled way to the entrance to Main Street and stopped. “You’ll have to direct me, Callie. All I know of Pinewood is the wooden walkway between Cargrave’s Mercantile and your aunt’s hotel.”

      She looked away from his smile. There was something of the little boy in it that made her want to trust him, and she’d trust a liar as far as a pig could fly. “We go left, then turn right onto Oak Street.” She gestured across the road a short way up Main Street from the hotel. “It’s there, beyond the gazebo.”

      A wagon loaded with bundles of thick, wood shingles rumbled by, headed toward Olville. She held herself immobile as Ezra flicked the reins and urged Star out onto Main Street in the wagon’s wake.

      Olville. In the concern and bustle over Charlotte, she’d forgotten about Sophia’s trip. Relief stole the tension from her body. Sophia would not be going to Olville today, and the Citizen was only printed on Fridays. She was safe for another week.

      Star’s hooves thudded against the drying mud of the roadbed. The shay swayed around the corner onto Oak Street, rumbled past the gazebo in the park on the corner. She shifted her gaze to the left side of the street, spotted the Hall home ahead and smiled. She’d spent a lot of time in that house when she was young. She and Willa and Sadie coming to play with Ellen—or to get Ellen to come off on an adventure with them. Her smile turned into a sigh. So much had changed. Sadie had moved to Rochester. She now lived in Buffalo. And Ellen was in Buffalo, too, staying with her Aunt Berdena. But they had little in common now, only their memories. Ellen was after a rich husband and loved every minute of the social whirl, coveting the attentions of the wealthy men drawn by her blonde beauty. She was welcome to them. Including Jacob Strand. Especially Jacob Strand. The man was beyond—

      “There’s a bell hanging on the porch of that small building. Is that a schoolhouse?”

      She started, drawn out of her thoughts by Ezra’s question. “Yes, it is. My friend, Willa, was the schoolmarm until a few months ago.”

      He looked her way. “She lost her position?”

      “She got married.” Amusement rippled through her. Willa, who had trusted neither men nor God and vowed she would never marry, was the first of the four of them to do so. Matthew Calvert had come to pastor Pinewood Church, and his love and lopsided grin had brought the wall of defense around her friend’s heart crashing down as surely as the walls of Jericho had tumbled at a shout. Now, Willa was Matthew’s wife and mother to his charges—the young son and daughter of his late brother.

      Envy rose, fastened a choking grip on her heart. She was happy for Willa, truly she was. But, oh how she wished she could marry a man like Matthew. An honest man who would love her for herself. Not one of the rich men who took one look at her and professed undying love. Liars! They didn’t even know her. If they did, they would know she was not impressed by their wealth or their arrogant boastings and would not be bought. Pain shot up her arm. She glanced down. Her fingers were buried in the bundle of old sheeting. She took a slow breath and relaxed her grip, dipped her head toward the dirt road that wound up the hill on their left. “We’ll turn here.”

      * * *

      Ezra СКАЧАТЬ