Home to Roost_Bower, Colorado Page 8

  “And fashion.”

  Brigid looked down at her clothing and was reminded of her borrowed attire. For the first time, her pride wavered as she wondered what he might think of her appearance.

  “I tried to patch my skirt last night and part of the fabric shredded under the needle. I’ve always admired Amelia Bloomer and Libby Miller, so I took a chance in using your old shirt and pants and making something I could use while I’m here.” She wasn’t sure about the exact fit. There wasn’t a looking glass of the appropriate size to see, but the breadth of his shoulders seemed to add length when she’d pulled it on over her head and the shirt hem still managed to reach the middle of her thighs. “It’s called Rational Dress,” she giggled at the formal sound to an informal style of clothing. “They wanted women to have a more natural shape. I’ve worn Rationals designed specifically for women, with smart collars and short skirts over pantaloons, but this is the first time that I’ve donned men’s clothing. I have to say, it’s exceedingly comfortable.”

  When the words dried up, so did her rush of confidence.

  She looked up and didn’t find him standing there, but she heard the soft scrape of sound as Quinn picked up a crate and brought it closer, placing it down before her, beside the table.

  “I’m afraid to say I didn’t notice the change at first,” he explained, “I was shocked to find a large part of my morning chores done for me.”

  He took her other hand and laid it on his thigh with her palm up. Quinn might not have noticed how close they were, but she certainly did. And the strength and surety of his hands on her skin was lulling her into a comfortable joy with his warmth.

  “You,” she swallowed and hoped to find the right words to ask her question, “you don’t mind? Most people would see a woman in masculine clothing as something abhorrent.”

  He dabbed some of the salve on her palm and she barely felt any pain as she focused her eyes on his handsome face. “I’m not most people, Birdie. If I was, I would probably live in Bower. I like to think what I think. And if you like wearing something that makes you feel comfortable, I wouldn’t take that away from you.” He looked down at her feet and back up into her eyes. “Some would turn their noses up at the boots that I made, but you thought they were nice.”

  “Nice?” She shook her head and he watched the loose curls of hair brush her temples. “They’re wonderful! So soft and comfortable and I didn’t feel a single rock beneath my feet. Yes, I loved my boots, but I loved the idea of them. I wanted to impress people in Bower. I wanted to fit into the community, but I spent so much time worrying that they’d see right through my façade.”

  “I think they’d see you behind it all and like you anyway.”

  She heard the truth in his voice. He believed what he was telling her, and it went straight to her heart. “Quinn, I-”

  “Brigid,” she heard the hesitation in his voice and the flat tone when he said her name. It frightened her. “I went to check the creek today.” He looked away and covered the tin of salve. “It’s gone down, at least a foot down, but it’s still over the banks and the current is vicious.”

  She nodded, slowly. She wanted to go back to town, especially to let the Hamptons know that she hadn’t disappeared on purpose, but she had to admit she wasn’t ready to go. Being with Quinn was opening her eyes to a whole new world, she just had to hope that it wasn’t her only chance to experience this kind of freedom.

  Quinn continued to talk, trying to reassure her that it would only be a day or two more. Brigid couldn’t help the guilty feeling creeping up inside of her when she didn’t feel the least bit upset that she’d have to wait to return. And that was probably the most dangerous part of her situation.

  Chapter 8

  Near sunset, Quinn took her down to the creek to see the water. The water level in the creek had dropped even further since that morning, but as they stood beside the overflooded bank, Brigid eyed the seemingly gentle current.

  Taking the hand that Quinn offered her, she leaned closer and dipped her hand in the water. Perhaps if she had held her fingers apart it might have been fine, but with her fingers closed, the water caught at her hand and pulled it downstream.

  If it hadn’t been for Quinn’s strong grip on her hand, she might have staggered, or lost her footing.

  When he pulled her to her feet, he walked them back a few steps and let her lean against his side until she’d regained her balance.

  “I just don’t understand.” She shivered at the unspoken thoughts rushing through her head. “It looks so calm.”

  “The surface can be deceptive. As beautiful as it is,” he explained, “it’s the current below that can drag you under. I’ve seen animals fall in and disappear.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. “You’re welcome to come out here and check for yourself, but don’t touch the water if I’m not here with you.”

  She agreed readily. One brush with fear at the mercy of the creek was enough. Turning into his gentle half-embrace she looked up into his face and saw concern plainly written on his face. “I don’t think I want to come out here without you. Just thinking about what happened that night, knowing that I’d managed to get across the water in the dark without falling into it? I don’t want to leave anything to chance.”

  “Pragmatic as always, Miss Belham.”

  She heard his laughing tone and knew that he was trying to lighten her mood, not hurt her feelings. “If it’s pragmatic to want to survive this, then yes. I agree.”

  As they walked back to his homestead, he left his arm around her shoulders, lending her the strength she needed, but couldn’t ask for. It was nice to have someone who seemed to understand her, almost more than she understood herself.

  For now, she would enjoy every moment she could, until the creek was low enough to cross.

  Brigid took care of the eggs, with her usual cadre of feathered followers tagging along with her. And when she helped at the pump, she wore a pair of borrowed gloves from Quinn. Whatever water that dropped over the edge of the bucket was put to good use by Dandy. The little goat happily danced around the base of the pump trying to drink up any spare droplets while kicking up his heels.

  While Quinn took care of his chores, they’d cross paths from time to time, and more often than not, they would stop and talk. Carrying an armload of cut wood, he paused behind her as she read on the porch. “I would have brought the chair out for you.”

  Holding her book carefully to make sure she didn’t lose her place, she twisted a little on the seat to meet his eyes. There was a playful look in his eyes that lightened his features and made her heart thunder in her chest. “I carried it out just fine.”

  Quinn nodded, shifting the wood in his arms. “You certainly do take care of yourself just fine.” His smile broadened. “You’re a strong woman, Birdie, but I don’t think you believe it all the time.”

  She couldn’t help it. The soft wincing smile that she liked to show the world was instantly on her lips, but she didn’t want to just be that same old person. Brigid knew she could just be herself with Quinn. He’d already seen her in torn and muddy clothing, there was nothing more to hide after that. “I’m beginning to,” she confessed, “you don’t expect me to be anything else.”

  He shrugged, nearly losing control over the pieces of wood at the top of the pile. “Why would I,” he wondered aloud, “you don’t expect me to be anything else than who I am.”

  Brigid started to close her book. “Do you want me to help you with the wood?” She turned enough to set an elbow on the back of the chair. It allowed her to look at his arms, he had rolled back his sleeves and his forearms were distracting, drawing her eyes and her interest in so many ways. “If I do, maybe you can sit down and talk with me for a bit.”

  She saw the question in his eyes.

  “We don’t have to talk.” She felt a flush creep up into her cheeks, “I just wanted you to sit for a while.”

  “I have more chores to do,
” he rushed on when she started to stand, “you read the book. I have to go check my traps. I’m not sure you’d want to see what it looks like if I caught something.”

  She couldn’t argue with his reasoning. She really wouldn’t want to see an animal dead or in pain, but she couldn’t fault him for doing what he needed to survive. “You’ll let me know if you do need help?”

  His smile was sure and warm. “I will.” With that, he disappeared inside the cabin, leaving Brigid looking after him, her book in her lap, forgotten.

  After supper, Brigid started to clear the dishes before he stood up from this seat on the crate. It was a pleasant surprise when she walked around the table and plucked his plate from his hand.

  He stood slowly, enjoying the soft sway of her walk as she crossed to the basin against the wall. She had said that her corset and all the other underpinnings were meant to accentuate a woman’s body and made to show her form at the height of her femininity.

  And yet, as Brigid turned away from the basin and crossed back to the table, her chin tilted down in a demure expression, he was sure that Brigid didn’t need anything more than her smile. Her femininity, even in his castoff shirt and pants, fairly glowed with a gentle warmth. A warmth he wanted to stand closer to. He just didn’t know how long he’d have her near. Picking up their cups he moved to the basin beside her, seeing the soft smile on her lips.

  “Where did your smile come from?”

  She bumped him with her elbow and set the tray into the basin before she raised her eyes to his face. “I smile all the time.”

  He agreed and surrendered the cups to her reaching hands. “You know what I mean.”

  Reaching for the scrub cloth she focused her gaze on the dishes in the basin. “I want to thank you-”

  “You don’t have to-”

  “For the flowers.”

  That brought him up short. “The flowers?” He didn’t recall bringing her flowers, but that was something to remember for later. “The yarrow,” she seemed nervous while she spoke, “you listened to me when I asked you not to pull them.”

  The memory flooded back as she pushed her hands into the soapy water. Earlier in the day, just before they’d started supper, he’d mentioned a plan for the next day.

  “With your help, I’m almost caught up with so many things I haven’t had time to do.”

  She turned to him, excitement plain on her face. “What’s next?”

  He shrugged, gesturing in the vague direction of the barn. “I want to get rid of the weeds by the barn. It wouldn’t take me more than an hour, finish it before full sun finds the wall.” He saw her watching him with rapt attention. “I just have to grab them by the handful and pull them straight out of the ground.”

  Brigid grabbed his arm and the sensation turned his head.

  “You’re not!”

  He was shocked into silence.

  “Don’t you dare!” Her vehement tone shocked him and her grip tightened on his arm. “Those aren’t weeds.” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand. “They’re flowers!” Before he could say a word, she’d led him across the yard to the side of the barn and she’d pointed out each and every plant, giving him their scientific and common names, and explained any possible medicinal uses. “Of course,” she admitted, “I haven’t tried to use any of them, but I’ve read all the books.”

  The argument had left him stunned and pleased to see that she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind.

  And she certainly wasn’t afraid to push for an answer. “Well?”

  “Well,” he replied back, trying to soothe her worries, “I’ll leave them, just for you.”

  Quinn had expected a smile and received one, but it had been tinged with a shadow a moment later. He took her hand and felt her squeeze it in response. “What’s wrong?”

  “When I go,” she’d withdrawn her hand from his arm, taking a slight step back, “will you pull them out then?”

  The question poured over his skin like a fall of cold water, slowing down his heart until it barely throbbed within his chest. “No.” He shook his head. “I won’t. I’ll leave them there for you.”

  The answer had seemed to placate her, returning her smile to her beautiful face, but the thought had echoed through him ever since.

  Quinn had never been very comfortable with touching, but it seemed only too easy with Brigid. She reached out to touch him without hesitation and it had shocked him to look down and find that he had done the same. Touching Brigid, holding her gently at his side, feeling her warmth spreading through his skin was enough to scare him. Alone had always been his comfort. Relying on the work and efforts of his own two hands and the strength of his back had served him well so far, fulfilled his goals and dreams. Having someone near him, someone he could talk to, and enjoy the conversation with ease, was changing him deep beneath his skin where he had been empty before.

  “I can finish on my own.” Her words were softly spoken, but he was taken with the sweet light in her gaze. “You should get more rest.”

  He didn’t want to tell her that since she’d arrived he’d had even less sleep than before. At nights, he laid awake thinking, listening for danger, worrying… because of her.

  Letting him leave earlier would only mean another hour or two of worry and an ever-growing loneliness.

  Beyond her flowers, Brigid’s mark on his life would be permanent.

  He lingered in the cabin. He could have sought the quiet of the barn, but even she knew that it must be a pain for him. Even with the pallet that he’d formed on the hay and bags of feed, it couldn’t be that comfortable for him.

  If she thought he’d accept her offer, she would gladly switch places with him. He should be able to sleep in his own bed at night and the idea of cuddling up to little Dandy was more appealing than she’d ever thought possible before coming to Bower.

  “I was wondering,” she heard the words in her voice before she’d made the conscious decision to say them, “would you like to stay for a bit.”

  “Stay?” His tone was guarded, and with his gaze turned toward the window she couldn’t see the expression on his face. “You’re not tired?”

  “Not particularly,” she replied. “I feel bad that I’ve taken so much from you. If you wanted to stay inside for a bit, I would want you to have the opportunity.” She wondered if he could see the tentative expression that she wore.

  He seemed to listen to her offer, his eyes focused inward for a moment before he spoke again. “We could take the lantern outside and sit out on the porch.

  “I haven’t seen a cloud all day and when the sky is clear at night the stars are truly glorious against the night sky.”

  She sighed audibly and didn’t think to feel any shame for the dreamy sound. “And if there are clouds?”

  He smiled at her. “Bring your book and we’ll read.”

  The book laid untouched at her side from the moment they sat on the step. Drawing her feet up onto the second step, Brigid took in a long breath of the cool night air.

  “Did you always know you were meant for a place like this?”

  He tried to hold off the smile that tugged at his lips. “The woods?”

  She didn’t answer, but she didn’t really have to.

  “I moved West because staying where I was felt like I was stuck in the mud. When I reached Bower, it was a nice enough town, but everyone was so taken with the idea that it was growing. They wanted it to become as big as New York or San Francisco. A cosmopolitan center of commerce.” He saw Brigid tense for a moment. “It sounded good to them, but the more the town grew, the more I-”

  “Wanted to be somewhere else.” She sighed and leaned back, brushing her shoulder against his. “I don’t blame you. I would prefer this to life in Bower any day.”

  Quinn leaned forward and turned his head so he could see her prepossessing face. She was fairly lit from within. The soft flush of her skin reminded him of ripe peaches bathed in cream. “You mean that don’t you?”

 
; Lifting her face up toward the night sky, she drew in another breath as if she could keep it all inside her just from that breath alone. Closing her eyes, she sighed and shook her head, letting her hair fall back over her shoulders.

  “I do,” her voice was dreamy, softly spoken over her parted lips.

  Quinn moved closer, slipping his shoulder under the fall of her hair. She relaxed against him and he echoed her earlier sigh.

  “You mentioned that your father remarried.”

  “Mmm hmm.” Her breathing was slowing. “There wasn’t room enough for two women with the name Belham in one household. And as much as my father liked having an employee he could underpay and overwork, I wanted a home of my own too.”

  “And is that what you thought you’d get here? A home?”

  Her smile was soft, but there was a tinge of sadness in her eyes. “That’s what I wanted, but he was… disappointed.”

  “In you?”

  She nodded her head, just the tiniest bit, but it was enough to tell him how much it hurt her.

  “I never liked that stuffed-shirt lawyer.”

  She laughed quietly. “Well, right about now, I don’t like him much myself, but he was the one person who wanted to marry me. Now that he doesn’t want to, I can’t go home, so I’ll have to see what my options are when I get back to Bower. I can ask around. Carolina said one of the other men in town might be looking for a bride. I could see if I’d suit him.”

  He stilled, and she gave a little disgruntled sigh.

  “Although, I did take a chance and stopped by the mine office, looking for a job, and it got me a fairly good view of the men working in and around the mine. I’m not sure that they would find me any more acceptable than I would find them.” She yawned, or rather stifled a yawn as she settled against his shoulder.

  “Brigid?”

  He heard a soft tremble of laughter from her lips. “I thought you liked calling me Birdie. Getting tired of me already?”

  Quinn pulled her closer, his hand settling on her hip, letting her snuggle even closer. It would help him to talk if he wasn’t worried about looking her in the eye.