LITMIR.BIZ

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fine and she shouldn’t worry. Or he hoped that was what he said. His grasp of sign language still did not rival Birdie’s.

      Emma stepped away, primed the pump, filled the bucket and made him rest his foot in cold water up over his ankle. He noted that she tried not to look directly at him and wondered if it was just this situation. After all, she had volunteered only to dust, not to take care of him. Or was it just her not wanting to be here with him?

      “I know most people put sprains in hot water,” Emma said, standing in front of him, “but my mother always told me that cold water does best to reduce swelling. I hope Judith still has some goose grease. That works amazingly on sprains.”

      He nodded. The cold water was painful on his throbbing ankle. Goose grease. Good grief.

      Emma stood near him, scanning the area and obviously thinking. “Children, we need to do the chores. Mr. Chandler isn’t able—”

      “I’ll be fine. Just give me a few minutes—”

      “Mr. Chandler,” she interrupted, “of course it’s understandable that you don’t want us to do what needs to be done, but you are going to have limited mobility for several days.”

      He wanted to argue but the throbbing in his ankle underlined her words. He nodded, head down.

      She turned to the boy. “Colton, Mr. Chandler is going to need a crutch. I want you to go in the woods and find a young tree about this thick.” She curved her hands together, leaving about a three-inch-diameter opening. “Take a hatchet and cut it off and bring it here.” She turned to Mason. “While you’re soaking your ankle, you can fashion it into a crude crutch.”

      Mason nodded, pulling out his pocket knife. Disagreeing would be pointless and graceless. And he still felt shaken. I should have been more careful. Why couldn’t anything go right this year? His one hope was that the words he’d said upon regaining consciousness had been inaudible. So far Emma had given him no indication that she’d heard his much too personal words.

      * * *

      “You’re so good. And you could have been mine.” Mason’s words played in her mind much later that unexpectedly stressful day. Now she walked beside him up the forest track on their way to Judith’s for supper. He was balancing himself on the crutch he and Colton had contrived out of a young tree, now stripped of its bark with cushioning rags wrapped around the crook under his arm.

      “Are you sure—” she began again.

      “I can walk the short way to Asa’s,” Mason said, grimacing as he stumped along on the uneven dirt track.

      She sighed inwardly. Men. Sometimes when the bounds that hemmed her in as a “lady” felt onerous, she reminded herself that men also were hemmed in. Men didn’t show weakness—period. And then he’d been forced to sit and watch her get his place ready for the night, including the cattle. So she understood how lowering this situation was for him, especially in front of her.

      “You’re so good. You could have been mine.” She couldn’t get his words out of her mind. She never appreciated the way people always first commented about her appearance. But this man had mentioned her character and so had proven that he was looking into her as a person, not just at her face. This once again inched her toward caring about him. She resisted it, must resist it. Love was too treacherous a path to go down again—ever. Just thinking of allowing herself to be vulnerable again caused her to feel slightly nauseated. I can never do that again. I don’t have it in me to love like that again. No.

      “As long as you are patient and don’t try to hurry the healing, you should be fine in a week or so.” She did not look at him as she murmured this.

      “No doubt you’re right.” He exhaled, releasing his obvious dissatisfaction audibly. “There’s just so much to do.”

      “There always is.” And then they were walking around a bend and met Asa, who was already on the road, striding toward them.

      “What’s happened? I was just setting out to see why Colton hadn’t returned,” Asa said.

      With relief Emma let Mason explain the situation. Now, as they continued toward Asa, she could hurry on to her sister and turn Mason over to Asa. She listened to the men talking, and when Asa reached them, she headed briskly down the road. “I want to go help Judith!” she called over her shoulder. After supper, she would walk home to her own room, her own place behind the school, and relax. And not give this day or this man another thought.

      * * *

      On the Brants’ table the wiped-clean plates showed how they had all devoured Asa’s wife’s good supper. Within Mason the good feeling of being well fed vied with his painfully throbbing ankle. Asa and his wife with their two children sat across from him, his two girls and Emma. Mason noted that the girl Lily did not speak but kept looking at his girls and then away. He hoped she was just shy, like Emma had said earlier.

      “Mason, you will just have to stay here,” Asa said, “till you get back to normal.”

      Variations of this had been mentioned all throughout the evening meal. Mason felt exhausted by the day’s events and he couldn’t take much more. He’d replied politely but finally reached the end of his tether. He stated the truth. “I just want to go home. I’ve been away from home for months and I want to be in my own bed under my own roof.” Without turning his head, he watched Emma out of the corner of his eye as he had throughout the meal. She was gazing at him, her chin downward. What was she thinking? Was it of him?

      “But you’ll need help,” Judith said.

      “I can help,” Colton spoke up.

      Asa, Judith, Emma and Mason all turned to look at the boy.

      “I can help.” Colton stood up. “I can fetch and carry. Mr. Brant, you helped me and Lily when we needed help. So I can help Mr. Chandler.”

      Asa gripped the boy’s shoulder and smiled at him with approval.

      “That makes good sense,” Emma agreed. “Mr. Chandler walked here. He has a crutch. He just needs a little help. I completely understand why he wants to be in his own place, don’t we all?”

      “Thank you,” Mason said with emphasis. “Asa, please let Colton go with me and the girls. Thanks to Miss Jones and the children, everything is ready for us to settle down for the night. And that’s all I want.” He was grateful to Emma for backing him up and to the boy for offering. But he was afraid to look at her and betray more than this. Why did she have to be both lovely and kind? She could do much better than him for a husband.

      Asa and Judith exchanged glances. “Very well,” Asa agreed. “Colton, gather your things and your bedroll from up in the loft. Thank you for offering to help our neighbor.”

      Colton didn’t reply but obeyed.

      Pressing his hands on the table, Mason pushed himself up. Then he manipulated his crutch and secured it under his right arm. He thought he had just enough energy to get home.

      Emma stood also and walked to the door. “I’ll bid you all good night. And Judith, thank you for the lovely supper.”

      Mason watched the woman he had hoped to marry walk away into the gathering twilight. He bound up his mind against thinking of her. She had been helpful. She has been kind. But she had made it clear with her every glance and every word that she wanted to be only his neighbor and nothing more.

      * * *

      Emma arrived home and soon, in her nightwear, sat in her rocker, sipping a cup of chamomile tea and honey. She still felt stirred up and hoped the tea would soothe her so she could sleep. The day played through her mind. Her shock at meeting Mason Chandler on Main Street, seeing his two little girls—the silent and troubled Charlotte, the bright and sweet Birdie—and hearing the unguarded words he’d said when he woke.

      She took another sip of the warm, sweet tea. If only she were young and unmarked by war, she might have reacted differently. But for four

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