To Win Her Heart Page 10

  Duncan strolled through the doors, two long metal rods balanced atop his shoulder. The boring tools clanged against each other softly as he moved. Levi shook off his memories and stepped forward to meet the younger man. Duncan stood the rods on end between them. The shorter of the two reached Levi’s chin, while the other towered well past the top of his head.

  “You drill granite?” Levi asked as he picked up the smaller rod. It was flat on the driving end to accommodate hammer strikes and appeared to be made of iron except for the chisel-shaped tip, which would have to be steel to stand up to the force of boring into stone.

  “Granite? Nae. Fieldman quarries limestone.” He handed Levi the second jumper to inspect. “Me da cut granite back in Scotland afore the fever took him, but ’round here, limestone’s more common.” He shrugged. “Don’t matter much to me. I’ll drill anything they want so long as they pay me wages. I’d like to dress stones one day like me da instead o’ drilling ’em, but I got to do me time in the pit first.”

  Levi ran his hand along the taller jumper, trying not to think of his own father. Had Levi been more like young Duncan and been willing to do his time, the last few years would have turned out much differently. He couldn’t change the past, though. All he could do was move forward. Yet he was reluctant to move forward in a direction that led to a quarry.

  “Let me check my bar iron.” Levi carried the jumpers to the back of his shop. The shorter tool was thicker, about an inch and a half in diameter, whereas the longer one was only about seven-eighths of an inch wide. The first also had an iron ball welded to the middle to give it greater weight for when the drillers pounded it into the hole.

  Levi took stock of his supply and determined he would have ample iron to complete the project. The income he’d receive from the job would go a long way toward covering his expenses. He might even be able to set a little aside to start saving up for his own place. Filling an order this large in a timely manner would boost his reputation among the townsmen, as well.

  So why were his intestines cramping at the idea of taking it on?

  It wasn’t as if he were supporting abusive overseers. Duncan looked hale and hearty, with a ready grin that spoke more eloquently than any sworn vow of the favorable working conditions at the local quarry. The labor was no doubt grueling but honest—motivation provided by a fair wage instead of a whip.

  Surely a small-scale operation like Fieldman’s Quarry, one he hadn’t even heard of until today, did not use convict labor. While within the prison walls, inmates learned quickly of the different places where they could be leased out. Cotton plantations, railroads, sawmills—all owned by companies looking to save on labor costs without care for the working conditions of the men in their employ. The only reason convicts were sent to Marble Falls to work the quarry at Granite Mountain was because of the push to get stone cut and shipped to Austin for the rebuilding of the capitol. Therefore, it was highly unlikely that anything similar to what he’d experienced was taking place at Fieldman’s.

  Maybe if he could keep from visiting the quarry in person, he could supply the tools without reliving his nightmare.

  Setting his jaw, Levi circumvented the garden cultivator and pile of chain waiting for him near the forge and rejoined the quarryman. “A dollar fifty for each weighted jumper. One eighty-five for the longer one.”

  “Done.” Duncan pushed away from the support beam he’d been leaning against. “Can ye have ’em ready by the end o’ next week?”

  Levi mentally tabulated the other jobs he’d already committed to, then estimated the hours needed to complete one of the custom drills. “I think I can manage that. I don’t have a wagon, though. You’ll have to come pick them up.”

  “Can do.” Duncan’s grin flared to life again as he reached out to shake Levi’s hand. “Ye’re makin’ me a hero, Mr. Grant. It’s pleased the boss will be, and that’s a fact.”

  Levi couldn’t help but smile at the kid’s enthusiasm. “Call me Levi.”

  Duncan nodded. “Levi, then. ’Tis a fine name to be carrying.”

  Levi shook his head and chuckled softly. “Keep your flattery for the women, Duncan.”

  “Why do ye think I’m practicin’?” Duncan winked at him. “I got me a bonny lass to impress. She’s a shy one, but I’m determined to coax her out of hiding.” He wiggled his eyebrows and lifted his knees in a high-stepping jig as he danced his way through the doors, leaving Levi with a hearty dose of laughter rumbling in his chest.

  That kid could charm the horns off a bull. Levi doubted the bonny lass would resist for long.

  Images of another bonny lass floated through his mind. A lass with mossy green eyes and hair that caught fire when the sun glinted upon her auburn tresses. One with a willowy figure exuding grace and refinement and a smile that set his heart to racing every time she aimed it his way. One who was so far above him, he’d be a fool to pursue her.

  Levi’s grip on the jumper rods tightened. His gaze slid past the forge to the shelf along the back wall and the book lying upon its ledge. The note inside called to him, and his foolish heart longed to answer.

  But he had work to do—work the Lord had provided. He’d not forsake his responsibilities. The note would keep.

  Levi propped the jumpers against the north wall and hefted the thick pile of chain onto the slab at the end of the forge. As his fingers sought out the faulty links, he strove to put Eden from his mind. Not an easy task.

  At the end of the day, he finally gave himself permission to collect the book, but as an added exercise in self-discipline, he refrained from opening it until he was alone in his shed at the Barnes’ homestead. Somehow he managed to talk horses with Claude, compliment Georgia’s skillet ham and dried-apple pie, and even launder his work shirt with a borrowed tub and washboard without thinking of the note more than a couple dozen times.

  So when he finally sat on his cot, book open in his lap, lantern glowing from its hook in the shed’s ceiling, he wasn’t prepared for the hesitation that suddenly immobilized him.

  Anticipation had grown within him as the day progressed until he felt ready to burst. Yet now that the time had come to read Eden’s note, he froze, fearing disappointment. Most likely it merely contained a few friendly words of apology over not urging him to borrow a book sooner. He had no reason to expect more, regardless of the titillating possibilities his imagination had been spoon-feeding his heart all evening.

  Castigating himself for making more of things than was warranted, Levi snatched the folded slip of paper and pried it open.

  Levi,

  Over the course of our brief acquaintance, I’ve deduced that you are a man who prefers to keep his own counsel. While I, on the other hand, enjoy a spirited sharing of ideas, even when those ideas represent opposing perspectives.

  He jerked his face toward the ceiling as he blew out a hard breath. It always came down to that, didn’t it? His speech or lack thereof. He didn’t have Duncan McPherson’s glib tongue and never would. As he’d feared, Eden suspected his growing feelings and was kindly pointing out the reasons why they wouldn’t suit.

  Of course, he knew why they didn’t suit better than she. Although that knowledge had done precious little to temper his affection.

  Was she spoken for? Sherriff Pratt had certainly acted possessive with her on the day he’d found her at the smithy, calling her darlin’ and shooting Levi warning looks that carried enough heat to scorch a man’s hide. But the thought of Eden with that man made Levi ill. Something about Pratt rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe it was his heavy-handed manner or his threat to shoot Ornery. Then again, maybe it was just because the man had more right to court Eden than Levi ever would.

  Levi closed his eyes and steeled himself as he faced her letter once again. Might as well take his punches like a man. Opening his eyes, he read the rest of the note.

  Please feel no pressure to respond, but should you be interested, I would very much like to hear your impressions of the book you are rea
ding. Do you consider Professor Von Hardwigg to be a passionate explorer whose absolute faith and zealous determination lead him to scientific triumph? Or is he a man with an obsession who carelessly endangers his nephew’s life by rushing into an ill-advised expedition without adequate concern for the consequences?

  I know you have not yet finished reading this novel, so if you prefer to respond after completing it, I will be happy to wait upon your convenience.

  Eden

  By the time he reached her signature, Levi’s heart rate had tripled its pace. Far from pushing him away, Eden was actually giving him the chance to deepen their acquaintanceship.

  Levi stood so fast, he knocked his head against the lantern. He winced and raised a hand to steady the lamp as he slid out from under it. Two steps took him to the door, but when he pulled it wide, wintry air assaulted his bare chest, reminding him of his inappropriate attire. Grabbing his freshly laundered shirt from where it hung across the back of the room’s single chair, he pulled it over his head, not caring that the wet cotton suctioned to his skin like an icy leech.

  He hunched his shoulders against the wind and trudged past the barn to the Barnes’s back door. After pounding twice, he folded his arms across his chest and fidgeted from foot to foot. Finally, Claude appeared.

  “Need something, Levi?”

  “Yep.” He looked at his disheveled host, feeling only a twinge of guilt for disturbing his evening. “Got any writing paper?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Eden sat at her library desk, staring down at the packets of dried flowers scattered across the tabletop without really seeing them. Her sketchbook lay open before her, blank. A pencil poised between her thumb and forefinger angled toward the page; however, no inspiration stirred it to motion.

  “I brung you some tea.” Her housekeeper placed a steaming cup on the edge of the desk, rattling it against the saucer with more volume than was strictly necessary.

  Eden sighed and dropped her pencil, along with her pretense of working. “Thank you, Verna.” She offered the woman a small smile and reached for the china cup. The bitter aroma succeeded in sharpening her dulled senses a bit as she lifted the tea to her mouth. “Maybe your special brew will enhance my concentration. My mind seems trapped in a fog this afternoon.”

  She sipped the warm beverage and savored the sweetness of the honey that gentled the pungent blend of black teas. Verna always managed to find the right balance between the sweet and the strong.

  “You’re pining over that man, aren’t ya?”

  Eden sputtered. The tea sloshed and dribbled onto the white paper of her sketchbook. She hastily returned the cup to its saucer and tore out the stained page, hoping to prevent the liquid from bleeding through.

  “Really, Verna.” Eden crumpled the ruined paper in her palm. “You come up with the oddest notions.”

  Her housekeeper gave her one of those looks—the kind that made her squirm like a little girl caught in a fib. “So I guess it’s just coincidence that your concentration troubles started up about the same time that big feller stopped comin’ by? What’s it been—a day or two?”

  Three, actually, but admitting she’d been counting would only validate Verna’s argument. So she chose a bland reply, hoping to throw the too-perceptive housekeeper off the scent. “I had grown accustomed to Mr. Grant’s visits during the lunch hour, that’s true. Perhaps the change in routine has affected me more than I realized.” Eden tried to make it sound as if the possibility had not occurred to her until that moment.

  Verna’s gaze narrowed. Eden glanced away. Subterfuge was apparently not one of her strengths.

  Eden didn’t know what to expect from her brash housekeeper next, but it certainly wasn’t for the woman to lay a tender hand on her arm.

  “Ain’t nothing wrong with having feelings for the fella, Eden. He seems a decent sort. In fact, I should prob’ly be encouraging it after all the nights I sat awake prayin’ for you—askin’ the good Lord to bring you a man that’d treat you right.”

  Eden inhaled a sharp breath. Praying for God to bring her a man? After Stephen left, she’d vowed never again to word such a request. It took her aback to learn that someone else had been wording it for her.

  No, she’d spent the last five years begging the Lord to help her find contentment in her spinster status. And he’d been faithful. She had her library, her Ladies Aid work, the children’s reading hour. She could come and go as she pleased, spend her money as she deemed fit, all without the hassle of first gaining a man’s permission. And if the loneliness sometimes ate away at her like water poured on a sugarloaf . . . ? Well, God had seen her through the last five years. She figured he could be depended upon to see her through the next fifty.

  Eden cleared her tightening throat. “Verna, you shouldn’t ask for such things. I—”

  “You deserve a good man,” the housekeeper declared, her voice surprisingly stern. “Not like that fella who couldn’t see past his pocketbook. A man like my Harvey.” Her voice softened as her attention drifted out the window to rest on the man who was hoeing the weeds from the flower beds. “One who will offer you his coat when you’re cold or cut you a bloom from his favorite rosebush just because he was thinkin’ about ya while he worked. One who’ll take your sass in good humor and sass you back when ya need it.”

  She’d never heard Verna talk so. Harvey and Verna Sims had been a fixture in her life for so long it was hard to imagine them as people with lives of their own—people in love. Yet as she listened to her housekeeper describe their relationship, a profound longing for a similar connection stabbed Eden’s heart.

  Stephen had bought her gifts, escorted her to parties, and showered her with compliments and pretty declarations. But looking back, she realized none of those actions measured up to the standard Verna had just set. They’d been mere flattery, lacking depth and substance. Why hadn’t she recognized them as such? She’d always considered herself intelligent, educated. How could she have been so deceived?

  Her thoughts flew to Levi. Was it happening again? He was as different from Stephen as a mountain was from the prairie, but that was no guarantee that her budding feelings could be trusted.

  Give me a discerning spirit, Lord. Please don’t let me fall prey to romantic delusions again. Help me see the truth.

  “Drink your tea, gal, and forget I said anything. I oughtn’t have stuck my nose where it didn’t belong.” Verna wiped the trail of spilled liquid from the side of the cup with a corner of her apron and gave Eden’s shoulder an awkward pat. “I reckon you’re wise enough to take a gander at what lies beneath the surface before makin’ a judgment on a fella’s character. You never were one to make the same mistake twice.”

  Eden snatched her cup and drew it to her lips to avoid having to manufacture a suitable reply. Her already-bruised heart winced at the reminder of her past folly, but as Verna bustled off to see about a batch of cookies for the children who would start arriving in an hour, the encouragement hidden in her statement seeped into Eden’s consciousness.

  Verna was right. She wasn’t the same gullible girl she’d been when Stephen came calling. She was older. Wiser. Better able to guard her heart against insincerity and deception.

  Yet, if her heart was so wise and protected, why did the fact that Levi hadn’t visited the library since she’d written him that note leave her feeling vulnerable and achy inside?

  Levi’s fingers fumbled over the buttons on his good shirt as he tried to make himself presentable. He gritted his teeth and rubbed his damp palms down his trouser legs for the fifth time in as many minutes. Then he tilted his chin out of the way and tried again. It was like threading a needle without looking. Useless fingers. A growl echoed in his throat that set Ornery to whining. He glared the dog into silence and finally managed to shove the last minuscule button through its hole.

  “Ha!”

  Ornery met his shout with a bark that sounded more exasperated than congratulatory.

  “Yeah?
Well, you oughta try it.” Then again, the dog’s paws would probably prove more dexterous than Levi’s clumsy mitts.

  He should have gone at lunch. There would’ve been fewer people around. Less chance of making a fool of himself. But he’d had a set of those quarry drills in the fire and couldn’t leave them unfinished. He quit work early to compensate, but if he didn’t put boot leather to road—and soon—he’d end up at the library after all the kids tromped in for their weekly story time. He’d never get the chance to talk to her then.

  Levi’s gaze shifted to the shelf, where the corner of his borrowed book peered at him from over the ledge. The pages gapped a bit in the middle, but the slit wasn’t wide enough to reveal the sheets of paper stuffed inside. Had he written too much? Not enough? Did she even remember she’d asked the question?

  He rubbed a hand over his face and blew out a quivering breath. Then, before he could lose his nerve, he snatched his coat from its peg, grabbed the book, and marched out of the shop.

  As he strode up the library’s walk, he caught sight of a man stooped over a bush. “Hey, Harvey. They budding yet?” He and Mr. Sims had struck up an acquaintanceship over the last couple of weeks, bonding over the simple fact that they both wore trousers—an uncommon occurrence in an establishment dominated by women. Not counting the boys who attended the reading hour, most of the library patrons were of the feminine persuasion. And according to Harvey, when the Aid ladies descended on Thursday nights, there were so many hens in the coop, even the bravest rooster knew to make himself scarce until they left.

  Harvey straightened and waved, a small pair of pruning shears in his hand. “Good to see you, Levi. Got me some new leaves comin’ in. Spring must be on its way.”