Page 20 of Mail-Order Bride Substitute
Riley straightened. They’d known for a time they needed to fence a larger area. But he guessed they’d all put it off because of Pa’s dislike for fences of any sort. “We’re in open-range country and let’s not forget it,” he’d said on many occasions.
But keeping the young horses close to home required containment. “Let’s do it.” They loaded posts and wire, post-hole augers, mallets, hammers, and nails to the wagon and drove along a proposed fence line, dropping off posts at regular intervals.
For the rest of the afternoon, Riley dug holes. Matt dropped in posts and pounded them into place. Luke came to help with the hot, hard work. They paused frequently to go to the pump close to the barn and drink cold water.
Riley wiped the water from his lips, his gaze going in the direction of his house even though it was hidden behind Andy’s. Matt and Luke chuckled and nudged each other. He ignored them and returned to work.
The sun began its downward journey. The men gathered up the tools and returned everything to the barn.
Riley hung the hammers on the appropriate nails. If he put them in the wrong place Matt would correct him. “There was a time we’d work until dark.”
Luke chuckled. “You mean before we had a warm welcome waiting for us at home.”
Matt patted Riley’s back. “And now you do too.”
He wasn’t allowing himself to think of Olivia welcoming him. He knew if he gave his heart to her, she would take it with her when she left.
No thank you. He would keep his heart safe and secure. He matched his stride to the eager pace of Matt and Luke as they went toward their houses.
Alfred called out from the doorway of Andy’s house. “I’ll be eating here. Mrs. B and I have things to do yet.” He ducked inside and closed the door.
Riley shrugged as he turned toward home. The man was free to do as he wished.
Olivia looked up at his entrance. The house was hot as a furnace. Her face glowed red. Strands of her hair clung to her cheeks. “Welcome home. Supper is ready.”
He was hungry and sat down, anxious to eat.
She studied him a moment then nodded and brought serving dishes to the table.
“Looks good.” Boiled potatoes, pieces of roast chicken, carrots, and peas. He said grace then helped himself to the food, tentatively poking a potato with his fork. The tines went all the way in. She hadn’t made gravy, but the potato was at least cooked. So were the peas and carrots. He cut his piece of chicken. It seemed a little brittle. He put the forkful in his mouth. Dry as wood.
She watched him the whole time and sighed when he tested the chicken. “Gwen warned me it had to be cooked clear through, but I think I overcooked it.”
He washed it down with water. “It’s certain we won’t get sick from it being undercooked.” Hungry as he was, he didn’t even care about the dryness of the meat and ate two more pieces and cleaned up the vegetables.
“I made dessert.” She hurried to the pantry and returned with a plate full of tiny squares, covered in white icing.
“What’s this?”
“Petit fours. Little cakes.” Her eyes went from the miniscule white squares to his face, and she waited, an expectant look on her face.
What did she want from him? Was she like Nina who had asked more than he could give? Disappointments that had eventually eroded her love. And then—
Her gray eyes steady and watchful, Olivia looked from him to the squares of cake and back to him.
This wasn’t about Nina or his failures with her. It was only about the food set before him. He gingerly picked up one of those squares between his thumb and forefinger and studied it. “They’re certainly little.” He’d make sure it was safe to eat before he took more. He popped the tiny bite into his mouth. Heavy and a little doughy, but certainly edible. He ate more than a dozen of them.
She watched them disappear. “This would have served four or five ladies.”
He gulped down the cake still in his mouth. “I’ve spent the afternoon working hard and I’m hungry.”
She studied the now empty plate that had held the dessert and shook her head. “I gathered as much.” When she lifted her head to look at him, a smile widened her mouth.
He’d expected her to be offended, not amused. Unable to reconcile his thoughts with the look on her face, he looked past her to the wall. “The meal was good. Thank you.”
“I’ll do better each time. You’ll see.”
He studied her. Despite not wanting to do so, he admired her. She reminded him of himself in a way.
