Page 43 of Hank and Elsie
The breeze sent a vivid gold leaf dancing in the air and lifted the brim of the new hat Elsie had fashioned of straw taken from Mack Taylor’s stable. Miss Taylor’s father had kindly pointed out the clean bales and told her to select whatever she wanted. His straw was thicker than the grasses growing around their farm, which made for a sturdier brim, and the pink ribbon circling the crown also tied under her chin.This hat is not about to end up in the pigpen.
The leaf landed on her lap, making the yellow of her former best dress look sallow.
With a sigh, Mary slid lower until her head could rest on Elsie’s shoulder.
Careful not to knock the brim of the hat, Elsie rested her cheek on her sister’s head, inhaling the scent of her hair. When Mary was small, they’d often sat this way. But her sister hadn’t cuddled up to her for years.
For a brief moment, Elsie savored their connection before a glance at the patchwork bag once again made her remember the hated corset.What if Hank’s one of those men who insists his wife have a tiny waist?
Catching the stab of fear, Elsie made herself mentally shrug.I’m not getting married for years, so what does it matter what Hank thinks?
But, somehow, it did.
CHAPTER 16
Four days later, Hank, Torin with Jewel on his lap, and Brian sat on fallen logs around a campfire, drinking Brian’s home-brewed ale, their traditional ending to getting the harvest in. Jewel, of course, had her own small tankard of watered-down ginger-beer, also fermented by Brian.
Although their mood was good, they sat in exhausted silence. The harvest was always a strenuous stint, the physical effort only exceeded in the winter by the bone-cold labor of carving blocks of ice from the lake.
These quiet hours of companionship and relaxation, watching the flames, talking here and there, and feeling grateful they were now supplied for the winter was a peaceful closing to a harried time.
Hank set his tankard on a smooth spot on his log and stretched out his legs. “Going to take a day to make sure everything’s organized right and tight. Rest a bit. Then the next day, I’m heading out to help the Baileys and their neighbors with their harvest.”
Both Brian and Torin broke into teasing grins. But Torin was the first to speak. “Let me guess. You want us to take care of your livestock?” Without waiting for an answer, he looked down at hisdaughter. “What do you think, sweetling? Do you want to feed Hank’s horses and chickens and gather eggs?”
Jewel gave Hank her big smile, tongue a bit extended. “Eggs.”
“That’s right.”
“Swwanss, feed.”
“There’s a whole jar of old bread crusts, and I’ll add some peas.” Hank held up a finger. “Just don’t give those greedy swans all of them at once.”
Brian rubbed a hand over his bristly chin. “I’ll go with you.”
Hank glanced at him in surprise. Brian was a loner, and a curmudgeonly one, at that. Most times, only Jewel could bring a smile to his face. He went to town as seldom as he could get away with, which meant not at all this past summer. With Hank visiting Elsie so often, he’d brought back whatever his friend required. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Need some thinking time.”
“Need some thinking time,” Hank echoed, incredulous. “You can’tthinkhere in our beautiful,peacefulsurroundings?”
“Ain’t working.”
Now that’s interesting.Brian never said much about his past, and neither Hank nor Torin ever asked. But he could tell from the erudition of their conversations and the volumes of books they exchanged that besides being a writer, Brian was also an educated man.Ain’twasn’t normally a part of his vocabulary.
Torin set down his tankard. “Still struggling with the next book?”
Brian gave a reluctant nod.
“Anything we can help with?” Hank ventured, bracing for Brian to bite back.
“Nah.”
Nah.Another word Brian didn’t usually use.Well, perhaps, more hard labor amidst a bunch of strangers would shake loose some inspiration.
“The Baileys are poor but proud,” Hank warned. “They’ll be hard-pressed to set me up with a pallet to sleep on and food to eat. I’m bringing my own bedding. Figured I could stop by the mercantile on the way and bring some supplies along. A ham, some flour, cornmeal, sugar. About all I can carry in my second saddlebag.”
“I’ll bring my own bedding.” Brian sipped his ale. “I’ll contribute, too. With two of us, we can carry more items.”
