framed her intriguing silhouette.
He sauntered to where she stood and braced his hands on his hips. “It’s a good location. Rain will drain down to the river, so the cabin floor will remain dry. It’s close to the road for safety and convenience. And if we clear the six trees to the Bow River, you’ll have an unobstructed view of the water.”
He almost groaned as he said it, knowing at one time he and his father had planned a similar location. Pa no longer remembered. And as for Tom, well, he’d buy himself another pretty— prettier —piece of property.
Amanda gave such a huge sigh of contentment, his eyes followed the movement of her breathing down to her chest. A nicely rounded swell that she was hiding beneath shapeless clothing. He muttered to himself and glanced away.
After smearing the stinky concoction Amanda had given them on their skin for protection against the blackflies, Tom grabbed the two-man saw.
“Let’s start with the big cedar.” He indicated to Donald.Although Donald was a good ten inches shorter, he was a muscular man who walked with a spring in his step and who easily took direction.
Amanda pulled on her leather gloves and Tom moaned. So she was serious about helping. Glancing up, he caught Grandma exiting the shack, dressed in a workman’s shirt tucked over her dark dress. A quake of alarm bounced through him. Both of them planned on helping? It wasn’t women’s work, not even for younger Amanda, but certainly not a woman as old as Grandma.
Donald stopped. “Sweet Jesus O’Grady,” he muttered. “You’re hirin’ women now, are ya?”
“It’s not my idea,” Tom declared.
“And a good mornin’ to you, too,” bellowed Grandma in good humor. “You can both close your mouths now.”
How old must she be? Tom wondered.
“Sixty-two, since you’re lookin’ at me like that. But I’m not a weak old woman. I was splittin’ logs and cordin’ wood long before you arrived in your mama’s cabbage patch.”
“Don’t worry about us.” Amanda brought out her own shovel. “We’ll clear the raspberry bushes and the juniper shrubs. We promise we’ll stay out of your hair.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze.
Was he supposed to allow women to help him? He was ashamed to see them work so hard. They should be sitting out in the sun and knitting, or mending clothing. But as much as he ached to have the final word and say no, a deal was a deal.
So while the men cleared the clump of green cedars, the women transplanted raspberry bushes to the far side of the shack. Amanda seemed to take pleasure in the company of Wolf, scratching behind his furry pointed ears and patting his luxurious double coat.
“Why, you’ve got two different colored eyes,” Tom heard her murmur to the dog. “One blue, one brown.”
Near lunchtime, Grandma waddled off to the privy. Amanda slid off her gloves and wiped the perspiration from her forehead. “It’s time for lunch. I’ve got some stew.”
Just then, Ellie strolled around the corner with a picnic basket, obviously thinking of lunch, too. “The children have eaten and the three oldest girls are hangin’ the laundry. I thought we might go fer a picnic by the river.”
Tom stumbled forward. For cryin’ out loud, this wasn’t a social call. This was difficult work, and if he accepted one invitation, the woman might appear every day. “I don’t think so. I brought an apple and a slice of ham, and I’ll enjoy sitting under that tree. Alone. You go ahead with Donald.”
Amanda wrung her hands into her shirt and tried to slide out of the invitation, too.
Ellie insisted. “I’m not taking no fer an answer. I’ve been cookin’ fer the last hour. Fresh bread. Fried-egg sandwiches and pickled peppers.” Spotting Amanda’s grandmother as she came out of the privy, she called out “You’ll join us, won’t you, Miss Clementine?”
Miss Clementine waved them off with a plump arm, like a queen waving from a balcony. “Go on
Learning to Kill: Stories