squirmed slightly to try to get him to loosen his grip on her waist, but to no avail.
"You was a funny little thing in them days," he said. "Almost like a growed woman dressed up like a child. We sure did give you a lot of grief, I'm thinking."
"I don't recall," she lied primly. "It was a long time ago."
"It surely was. It's funny, but I remember it like it was yesterday. All us boys playing tag and rope-the-goat and you girls sitting round giggling over button-button."
It was not exactly how Hattie remembered it, but she declined to comment.
"Were you sweet on me then, Miss Hattie?" he asked her, his face uncomfortably close and his smile unreasonably smug.
"I certainly was not."
"I thought you was . Yes, I thought you was plumb taken with me. But then, a lot of them gals was back then, afore I lost my hair."
"Mr. Drayton, I'd like for you to release me," she said, her voice carefully controlled.
"Hattie- hon , you need to loosen up a bit," he told her, ignoring her complaint. "It's a pretty night, we got a nice big old moon up there, and we're due some sparking." He squeezed her again. "Ain't nobody to see and none to know."
"I believe I am already sufficiently loose," she said.
Ancil laughed loudly. "Now that, Miss Hattie, I ain't heard. But I'm willing to test it out." He pulled her tightly against him and leaned down in an attempt to kiss her.
She squealed in terror. "Don't you dare! "
"It's just a little smoochy-smoch , Miss Hattie. There ain't no call to be getting yourself all riled."
"I have not given you permission to kiss me, Mr. Drayton."
If his scowl was any indication, Ancil was clearly displeased. "These days, a man don't need to ask permission," he said. "Everybody knows that courting couples kiss. Why, how else are they going to be able to tell if they like each other?"
"Prior to marriage, a kiss might be appropriate," Hattie said, her chin high. "However, I do not believe any dalliance at this point in our courtship is proper." Her words were as cold as icicles and had the desired effect.
Moving away, Ancil flicked the reins sharply. The horse immediately quickened its pace.
"At your age, Miss Hattie, I'm thinking you'd be better off trying to be pleasing than proper."
She turned to him, her mouth open in shock.
"You'd best do some thawing out," he added. "A bit of kissing ain't going to ruin you."
* * *
The moon came out from behind a cloud, making the white paint on the Turpin house glow with silvery highlights. Harmon Leege approached the house by the road, but before he reached the yard, he veered to the left, into the woods.
It was well after
midnight
, and not a lamp showed inside the house. As he quietly approached on the back side, his stealth disturbed neither the chickens in the nearby pen nor the lazy dog asleep on the back porch. He stopped underneath the huge elm tree on the south side of the house. Leaning against it, he watched the curtains of one second-story window wave lightly in the breeze. His stance was calmly determined and patient, as if he had been on this watch many times. Even in the anonymity of the darkness, he did not allow his expression to reveal his inner thoughts. He merely observed the tantalizing play of the curtains and cursed the fates for destroying what might have been.
Reed was not so bad. Harm had finally had to admit that. The time they'd spent together in Helena and working at Miss Hattie's place had taught him that the man was fair and could be trusted. The way he treated Miss Hattie was surely evidence that he would be neither cruel nor thoughtless as a husband. Even his sense of humor encouraged Harm. A man who was willing to enjoy the vagaries of life, rather than set himself against them, would find a pleasant future.
Harm's own future seemed infinitely more bleak . He had known from the time he was small enough to walk upright under the buckboard that he was "trash." Worthless white trash, not fit to consort with decent folks. Hearing
"You was a funny little thing in them days," he said. "Almost like a growed woman dressed up like a child. We sure did give you a lot of grief, I'm thinking."
"I don't recall," she lied primly. "It was a long time ago."
"It surely was. It's funny, but I remember it like it was yesterday. All us boys playing tag and rope-the-goat and you girls sitting round giggling over button-button."
It was not exactly how Hattie remembered it, but she declined to comment.
"Were you sweet on me then, Miss Hattie?" he asked her, his face uncomfortably close and his smile unreasonably smug.
"I certainly was not."
"I thought you was . Yes, I thought you was plumb taken with me. But then, a lot of them gals was back then, afore I lost my hair."
"Mr. Drayton, I'd like for you to release me," she said, her voice carefully controlled.
"Hattie- hon , you need to loosen up a bit," he told her, ignoring her complaint. "It's a pretty night, we got a nice big old moon up there, and we're due some sparking." He squeezed her again. "Ain't nobody to see and none to know."
"I believe I am already sufficiently loose," she said.
Ancil laughed loudly. "Now that, Miss Hattie, I ain't heard. But I'm willing to test it out." He pulled her tightly against him and leaned down in an attempt to kiss her.
She squealed in terror. "Don't you dare! "
"It's just a little smoochy-smoch , Miss Hattie. There ain't no call to be getting yourself all riled."
"I have not given you permission to kiss me, Mr. Drayton."
If his scowl was any indication, Ancil was clearly displeased. "These days, a man don't need to ask permission," he said. "Everybody knows that courting couples kiss. Why, how else are they going to be able to tell if they like each other?"
"Prior to marriage, a kiss might be appropriate," Hattie said, her chin high. "However, I do not believe any dalliance at this point in our courtship is proper." Her words were as cold as icicles and had the desired effect.
Moving away, Ancil flicked the reins sharply. The horse immediately quickened its pace.
"At your age, Miss Hattie, I'm thinking you'd be better off trying to be pleasing than proper."
She turned to him, her mouth open in shock.
"You'd best do some thawing out," he added. "A bit of kissing ain't going to ruin you."
* * *
The moon came out from behind a cloud, making the white paint on the Turpin house glow with silvery highlights. Harmon Leege approached the house by the road, but before he reached the yard, he veered to the left, into the woods.
It was well after
midnight
, and not a lamp showed inside the house. As he quietly approached on the back side, his stealth disturbed neither the chickens in the nearby pen nor the lazy dog asleep on the back porch. He stopped underneath the huge elm tree on the south side of the house. Leaning against it, he watched the curtains of one second-story window wave lightly in the breeze. His stance was calmly determined and patient, as if he had been on this watch many times. Even in the anonymity of the darkness, he did not allow his expression to reveal his inner thoughts. He merely observed the tantalizing play of the curtains and cursed the fates for destroying what might have been.
Reed was not so bad. Harm had finally had to admit that. The time they'd spent together in Helena and working at Miss Hattie's place had taught him that the man was fair and could be trusted. The way he treated Miss Hattie was surely evidence that he would be neither cruel nor thoughtless as a husband. Even his sense of humor encouraged Harm. A man who was willing to enjoy the vagaries of life, rather than set himself against them, would find a pleasant future.
Harm's own future seemed infinitely more bleak . He had known from the time he was small enough to walk upright under the buckboard that he was "trash." Worthless white trash, not fit to consort with decent folks. Hearing
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