slowly starting to drift back to their shafts.
Luke gave his sister’s hand an impatient tug as Old Joe sent her a meaningful look, then slowly wandered off. “Come on, Hope. Let’s go congratulate him.”
“No,” she cried, snatching her hand back, “I mean—” she hesitated, her gaze nervously searching the men. Frazier and her father were getting closer. “You go. I have to get back. I—I have laundry to finish.”
“Finish it later. This is more important.”
“So is mending your shirt,” she replied with feigned good cheer. She took a quick step toward the burro. Too quick, her mind told her as she forced her feet to a slower pace. It wouldn’t do to have people see her rushing away as though she was being chased.
“Besides,” she continued, taking another step, then another, “the candles will never harden in time if I put it off much longer.” It didn’t matter that she had hidden a dozen in reserve beneath the dresses in her trunk. Those were for an emergency. “And I still have more soap to mill.” Half a dozen bars lay next to the candles. Even stretching her imagination to its fullest, she couldn’t think of an emergency that involved soap. “You men use more in a day than the estate used in a week. I can barely keep up.”
Luke scowled at his sister’s curt, nervous laugh. “But –“
“And I have to start supper,” she added, almost crying with relief when she felt the burro’s coarse coat beneath her fingers. “It’ll never get made if I stand around chatting all day.” She swung on top of the coarse back and gestured impatiently to her brother. “Go on. Off with you. Send my congratulations to Frazier, then get back to work. The sooner we hit a vein and are out of this damn camp the better.”
With a shaky smile, she turned the mule around, guiding the animal past the men who were slowly making their way back to town.
The fingers gripping the reins trembled, but Hope passed the involuntary shiver off as a lack of breakfast. She was lying, of course, and she knew it. But lying was far better than admitting what was really troubling her.
Frazier would be coming for payment, and he would be coming for it soon. Hope couldn’t let that happen, although she saw no way around it—yet. With a little time alone, maybe she could come up with a scheme that would free her from paying him his due. It was doubtful, true. In three days, she hadn’t thought of one yet.
Her mind drifted to the strip of rippled flesh marring her back. Her spine stiffened as her heart took a nervous leap.
She’d think of something. Dear Lord, she had to!
Chapter 5
Hope wrapped a thick cloth around the handle of the iron kettle and lifted it from the hearth. The muscles in her arms accepted the weight easily as she toted the heavy burden from the fireplace and set it down on the table with a thump. The hot, melted tallow swished against the kettle’s gritty surface, clinging to the black iron sides and dripping slow, thick paths back down to the melted pool on the bottom. Fingers of steam curled in the air as she stirred the mixture with a wooden spoon, scenting the small room with the tallow’s cloying aroma.
For the past two hours she’d gone about her chores in a daze, her mind concocting one farfetched plan after another, considering anything that could get her out of paying Drake Frazier. She’d tossed the majority of her crazy schemes aside—except that of telling him the truth. This was the one idea that returned over and over, annoying Hope to no end. She wouldn’t tell him that, she rebuked herself, each time her mind toyed with the idea. She couldn’t tell anyone that.
She was in the process of dipping the hardened candles for a second time when a prick of awareness tickled the nape of her neck. Suppressing a shudder, she draped the candles over a limb of the candle tree and spun on her heel.
Hope gasped when she saw Drake Frazier leaning casually against the door frame.
Luke gave his sister’s hand an impatient tug as Old Joe sent her a meaningful look, then slowly wandered off. “Come on, Hope. Let’s go congratulate him.”
“No,” she cried, snatching her hand back, “I mean—” she hesitated, her gaze nervously searching the men. Frazier and her father were getting closer. “You go. I have to get back. I—I have laundry to finish.”
“Finish it later. This is more important.”
“So is mending your shirt,” she replied with feigned good cheer. She took a quick step toward the burro. Too quick, her mind told her as she forced her feet to a slower pace. It wouldn’t do to have people see her rushing away as though she was being chased.
“Besides,” she continued, taking another step, then another, “the candles will never harden in time if I put it off much longer.” It didn’t matter that she had hidden a dozen in reserve beneath the dresses in her trunk. Those were for an emergency. “And I still have more soap to mill.” Half a dozen bars lay next to the candles. Even stretching her imagination to its fullest, she couldn’t think of an emergency that involved soap. “You men use more in a day than the estate used in a week. I can barely keep up.”
Luke scowled at his sister’s curt, nervous laugh. “But –“
“And I have to start supper,” she added, almost crying with relief when she felt the burro’s coarse coat beneath her fingers. “It’ll never get made if I stand around chatting all day.” She swung on top of the coarse back and gestured impatiently to her brother. “Go on. Off with you. Send my congratulations to Frazier, then get back to work. The sooner we hit a vein and are out of this damn camp the better.”
With a shaky smile, she turned the mule around, guiding the animal past the men who were slowly making their way back to town.
The fingers gripping the reins trembled, but Hope passed the involuntary shiver off as a lack of breakfast. She was lying, of course, and she knew it. But lying was far better than admitting what was really troubling her.
Frazier would be coming for payment, and he would be coming for it soon. Hope couldn’t let that happen, although she saw no way around it—yet. With a little time alone, maybe she could come up with a scheme that would free her from paying him his due. It was doubtful, true. In three days, she hadn’t thought of one yet.
Her mind drifted to the strip of rippled flesh marring her back. Her spine stiffened as her heart took a nervous leap.
She’d think of something. Dear Lord, she had to!
Chapter 5
Hope wrapped a thick cloth around the handle of the iron kettle and lifted it from the hearth. The muscles in her arms accepted the weight easily as she toted the heavy burden from the fireplace and set it down on the table with a thump. The hot, melted tallow swished against the kettle’s gritty surface, clinging to the black iron sides and dripping slow, thick paths back down to the melted pool on the bottom. Fingers of steam curled in the air as she stirred the mixture with a wooden spoon, scenting the small room with the tallow’s cloying aroma.
For the past two hours she’d gone about her chores in a daze, her mind concocting one farfetched plan after another, considering anything that could get her out of paying Drake Frazier. She’d tossed the majority of her crazy schemes aside—except that of telling him the truth. This was the one idea that returned over and over, annoying Hope to no end. She wouldn’t tell him that, she rebuked herself, each time her mind toyed with the idea. She couldn’t tell anyone that.
She was in the process of dipping the hardened candles for a second time when a prick of awareness tickled the nape of her neck. Suppressing a shudder, she draped the candles over a limb of the candle tree and spun on her heel.
Hope gasped when she saw Drake Frazier leaning casually against the door frame.
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