Diamond Duo by Marcia Gruver Page B

sweet honey.”
    Sarah lunged and tugged at his upraised arm. “Stop, now. Give it here!”
    He laughed and backed away. She followed until she’d chased him in a wide circle around the mule. He finally stopped and turned.
    Still holding the candy far overhead, he pinched off the tiniest bite and pressed it into her mouth. “There,” he teased. “Now you know what you’re missing.”
    The small piece delivered a strong, delightful taste, reminiscent of the potent smell and taste in the back of her throat at Stilley’s. She wondered at what a full-sized bite would be like.
    “Don’t tease, Henry. It’s mean.”
    A strong gust of wind bore straight down on them from out of the treetops, followed by a distant clap of thunder. Dandy laid back his ears and shuffled his feet. Sarah felt a raindrop hit the top of her head.
    Henry looked to the sky then crossed to Dandy and held up the stirrup. “Climb up, Sarah. Let me get you home before your pretty cloth gets wet.”
    She rolled the paper around the fabric and hurried to his side. “Put it back in the saddlebag, quick.”
    He took the package from her and fastened it inside the leather bag then hoisted her into the saddle. He took up Dandy’s reins and they started up the path.
    “Good thing we almost home.” Henry looked back at her with raised brows, winked, and patted his pocket where he’d stashed the candy. “A good rain might ruin my toothsome chocolate.”
    She waited until he glanced back again, a huge grin on his face.
    “Your chocolate, is it? We’ll just see about that, Henry King.”

B ertha held her shawl above her head, but it proved pointless. She surveyed the mess that made up Mose, Rhodie, and herself and stifled a laugh. Mose’s battered hat hung like a woman’s bonnet, channeling sheets of water past his chin. Rhodie, so drenched her eyelashes drooped in streaming tangles, sat upright next to Bertha. She had no shawl, given she wore her usual tattered overalls, no longer spattered with mud because the rain had washed them clean. Rhodie accepted the downpour, pelting her head and running off her braids in twin rivulets, the way she accepted most things–with quiet dignity.
    The sky had opened up a quarter mile back, just when Bertha figured she’d make it to town high and dry. And no matter how hard Mose flicked the reins or how loudly he bellowed, the overburdened horse had given his all. A slow, lanky pace proved the most the poor creature could muster, hardly enough to save them from a good soaking, though the weather did seem to perk him up. The way his head had lifted and swung from side to side, Bertha reckoned his refusal to hurry might be on purpose, as if he were bent on taking revenge.
    Mose raised his voice to be heard over the roar of the pounding rain. “We have to turn here, Bertha. Can’t take you clear to town.
    Our pa will be watching for us in this weather.”
    Rhodie picked up Bertha’s hand. “Come, go home with us. You can dry off and change into something warm. Our baby sister’s garb should fit you fine.”
    Bertha shook her head. “Just drop me by Magda’s place. I need to see her anyway.”
    Rhodie scrunched up her face. “Are you sure?”
    Bertha smiled at the wringing-wet girl. “Yes, but thanks.”
    They lumbered to the lane up ahead, hardly more than a rut that had been cut through the trees on each side. Overgrown branches crowded the entry, causing recent travelers to veer to the right, if the circle of tracks in the high grass were any sign. Past that point, what had been the long byway to Magda’s house now appeared to be a wide, shallow lake.
    Bertha placed a hand on Mose’s arm. “Stop here. You’ll just get stuck if you turn down there. I can walk across the pasture where the ground’s higher.”
    Mose pulled back on the reins, and she climbed down and sloshed around to where he leaned over waiting to speak to her. “You gonna be all right? I sure don’t like leaving you out