rich, black dirt. It had been too long since he’d soiled his hands in worthwhile pursuits instead of deception and crime. "The boy does a fine job."
Miss Vee nodded. "He sure does. With Rainy’s knack for growing things and Mariah’s gift for cooking, they make a tasty combination." Laughing, she tugged on Tiller’s sleeve. "You’ve tricked me into dawdling long enough. Let’s get to those chores."
Instead of heading for the crooked little lean-to, Miss Vee led him to the barn. Lifting the bar from across the heavy doors, she yanked them open with a grunt. "Mariah keeps her thingamajigs in here to protect them from the dampness of the shed. The girl is more particular with these old wrenches and hammers than most men are with their wives." She winked. "Count yourself among the privileged few she allows to touch them."
Miss Vee crossed the shadowy barn and ducked into a small storeroom in the corner. From inside a built-in cabinet with squeaky doors, she pulled a wooden box with shiny tools of every sort nestled beneath the curved handles like eggs in a basket.
Tiller glanced at Miss Vee. "These are Mariah’s?"
She held them up for a closer look. "Every oiled and polished piece."
He cleared his throat. "I thought they’d belong to her pa."
A grin lit Miss Vee’s face. "Not hardly. Mariah’s the handy one. At least when she has the time." Her eyes warmed. "For all his talents, John Coffee’s not so good when it comes to repairs." Her bosom shook with laughter. "Chores either, for that matter."
By her smitten look, Mr. Bell’s failings didn’t bother Miss Vee one bit.
"If you don’t mind my asking, ma’am … where is Mariah’s pa?"
She motioned with her head for him to take the toolbox. He obliged, and she closed the cabinet with a squeal of hinges. Pausing for several long seconds, she studied him, the love-struck shine faded to worry. "Poor John is sick, I’m afraid. Gravely ill, the last I heard. Some ailment afflicting his lungs."
"Well, I’m sorry to hear it," Tiller said. "Will he"—he cleared his throat—"recover soon?"
Her apple cheeks swelled with glee. "Yes, he will," she said, stressing each word. "The doctor sent him away to get better. ‘Healed once and for all,’ to quote Mariah." She sobered. "It burdens my heart that he’s gone who-knows-where, depending on who-knows-who to care for him, but he’ll be home soon, just as feisty as always." Her thoughts busy elsewhere, she stared mindlessly at Tiller’s chin. "Then all the folks who love him can get on with living again."
Tiller gave her a knowing smile. "Yes, ma’am. I expect you will."
Oblivious, she drew up her shoulders and returned to the present. "Here you go again, distracting me to get out of doing your work." She jabbed him in the chest with her finger. "Well, it won’t work, mister. Come with me." She ducked out of the storeroom and led him across the barn. "I figure you’ll start from the top and work your way down, which means the roof comes first."
"Yes, ma’am."
"If you look in the shed, you’ll find enough shingles to get you started. For the rest, I’m going to ask your help with a minor duplicity."
Tiller angled his head. "Ma’am?"
"A little harmless deceit for a good cause."
He shoved the door open. "What are you up to?"
She gave him a playful wink. "Starting tomorrow, you’ll have the supplies you need. If Mariah asks, you say you stumbled across them in the shed or behind the barn." She grinned. "As in fact you will, once I give Rainy the funds to run into Canton. I just need a list from you and your promise to keep my secret."
Tiller shoved back his hat. "Lumber and nails are expensive."
She shrugged. "What else do I have to spend money on?"
He ducked his head to catch her eye. "It’s very generous."
"Oh, pooh." Miss Vee waved him off. "After all, I live here, too." She hooked her arm through his. "Let me show you where to find the ladder. Then I’d best go see about Mr. Gooch. We’ve
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