Dorothy Garlock by High on a Hill Page A

in most situations.
    “What’s the matter with his leg?”
    Boone shrugged. “Ask him.”
    “Are you going to pout because I wanted to come here and you didn’t?”
    “No, I’m not goin’ to pout. I’m goin’ to eat ever’ dang bite I can hold, long’s he’s payin’ for it.”
    “He’s real nice, Boone,” Jack said. “Folks back home thought the world of him. My brother and I thought he might be interested in Julie, our sister. When he saw that she only had eyes for Evan, he backed off.”
    “I’m not sayin’ he ain’t
nice.
” He looked directly at Annabel. “I’m sayin’ we know nothin’ ’bout him.”
    Annabel narrowed her eyes when she looked at Boone. She had seen Corbin coming back to the table.
    “You … behave,” she whispered.
    During the meal Jack brought up the subject of Corbin’s love of running.
    “It was a shock to some of our neighbors when they saw Mr. Appleby running down the road. They thought he didn’t have any sense at all. Nobody in Fertile runs if they’re not going to a fire. Then they just walk fast.” Jack grinned at Corbin.
    “He won’t be doin’ much runnin’ for a while,” Boone said dryly.
    “You’re right. I’m going to spend some time sitting on the porch here letting my leg and shoulder heal.”
    “Are you a runner like in the Boston Marathon?” Annabel asked.
    “Not at all. I started running while I was in school, then continued while I was in France during the war. It’s something I like to do.”
    “What happened to your leg and your shoulder? Were you in an accident?” Annabel asked.
    “I guess you could say that. Someone took me for a deer and shot me.”
    Corbin smiled at her. His skin was bronze: He had obviously spent long hours in the sun. His eyes had little creases at the corners. She wondered what had caused the scar that ran down the side of his cheek.
    “Is that true? Are you making it up? At times I can’t believe a word Boone says. He loves to make up tall tales and get me riled up.”
    “It’s true. Boone found me and … saw to it that I was taken care of.” His gaze was fully directed on her. It was unnerving, penetrating. She was determined not to appear rattled.
    Annabel turned to Boone, who was eating calmly. “You never said anything about that.”
    “I didn’t think it was that all-fired important. Pass the butter.”
    “So much has happened already this morning. This certainly has been an exciting day, and it’s only noon.” She lifted her fork to her mouth and realized the three men at the table were waiting for her to explain.
    “What’s happened?” Boone broke the silence.
    “Mr. Potter asked me to play a solo at the concert on Sunday.”
    “Harrumpt! Ya goin’ to?”
    “No! I wouldn’t dream of it.”
    “She plays the violin,” Jack said when he realized that Corbin didn’t know what they were talking about.
    “Yes, I play the violin, but I’m not a concert violinist.” She could feel herself blushing. She wished that she hadn’t brought it up. He would think her a braggart.
    “I’d like to hear you play. During the war a fellow in our company played the violin and entertained us when possible. It was like a little bit of home. We all made sure that nothing happened to that violin. Do you attend the concerts they have here in the park?”
    “I haven’t yet, but I’d like to come … sometime, if I can talk Boone into bringing me.”
    “I could come for you. I can drive … short distances.”
    “I’ll bring her if she wants to come,” Boone said gruffly without looking up from his plate.
    To change the subject, Annabel said, “Meeting Mr. Potter wasn’t the only exciting thing that happened to me this morning. One of our neighbors asked me out on a date tonight. He didn’t really ask me, he told me to be ready at sundown. Can you beat that for arrogance?”
    “Who?” Boone spit out the one word.
    “One of the Carters.” Annabel spoke matter-of-factly as she split a biscuit