I looked around, disconcerted. “Didn’t think this would be so easy.”
“We’re simply like-minded.” He started drawing me close again.
Eyes narrowing, I braced my hands on his chest. “You’re awfully agreeable.”
“Well, of course.” He kissed my neck. “Because I’m awfully in love.”
*
With Fancy wagging her tail and trotting happily at Gid’s side, my brother soon returned and threw us a distracted wave, clearly oblivious to our disheveled appearance. By way of hello, he announced, “It’s official. Bob and Ed can’t cook, either. Hope you’re well enough to keep us from starving, Freddy.”
“I can do that.” I’d worked up an appetite, too.
Flashing me a smile, Daniel jumped out of the wagon and began organizing provisions. Gid restored the canvas covering, and I hung the blankets from branches, then made a late breakfast.
Full and in good spirits—perhaps inordinately good, for Daniel and me—we set out to finish the cabin, running poles across the walls for the loft and adding a ridge beam and rafters to support the roof.
Lighter than the men, I took charge of the topmost job.
Squinting, Gid watched me attach an oak splint to the half-finished roof. “You’re like a cat. Aren’t you scared up there?”
“Not any different from climbing trees.” I arranged another splint. “I thought house building would be trickier.”
By the wagon, examining some basswood he was considering for the floor, Daniel murmured absently, “No great secret to building. No special magic.” He looked over with a smile. “A person just has to have the desire and make the effort.”
“Desire and effort.” Gid grunted and crouched to continue working on the ladder for the loft. “Well, we’ve got plenty of both.”
When we took a break, I taught Daniel and Gid how to mix a batter, fry biscuits in pork fat, and put together a decent soup, letting them do the chopping, portioning, and stirring so they’d remember the lesson. Gid grumbled about the time it was costing him, but I shook my head. “You’ll thank me when I’m gone and you’re cooking for yourself.” Then, with a teasing smile: “No secret to cookery, no special magic. Just takes a little desire and effort.”
Hours later, we stopped our work on the cabin. It was almost done but, with the clouds covering the moon, destined not to receive its finishing touches until morning. Daniel took my outstretched hand and walked with me to the wagon. To my brother he provided no false explanation of where he was heading, and I didn’t wish him to. My decisions were none of Gid’s business.
That night again proved the day’s lesson. When it came to ensuring an endeavor’s success, there was a great deal to be said for desire and effort.
In this case, however, I couldn’t dismiss the possibility of enchantment. I felt spellbound. There was, indeed, some special magic.
*
The next morning, Gid was gone. Since both his cap and coat were missing, I guessed he was off visiting the brothers or exploring his property. I breakfasted with Daniel, then climbed the ladder to the roof. I’d nearly finished attaching the splints when I heard my brother return.
He was whistling. Loudly.
Lightly swinging a hammer, Daniel wandered out of the cabin and glanced up at me with an amused face. “Giving fair warning.”
Gid bore no cheer to go with his whistle. He looked sorely put out. After tossing his coat on the ground, he planted his hands on his hips. “Well, this is just splendid. Headed over to the brothers again to see if they could spare some treenails and found the boys tipsy.” He kicked his coat. “Before breakfast! If they keep this up, they’ll drink themselves to death. Of all the stupid ways to squander their time. I tried to talk some sense into them, even took them to task for abandoning Rachel at the Lintons’, but I don’t know if any of it sank in. They’re plain saturated with whiskey.”
“Goodness, that’s too bad,” I murmured.
“It’s despicable!”
I bit my lip and briefly met Daniel’s eyes. There was something excessive about Gid’s anger. I got the impression it wasn’t all for Robert and Ed. It was clear Daniel thought so, too.
Throughout the morning, my brother glared at Daniel and me off and on, glowered at the rough field, stomped around the cabin, and complained bitterly about how much work there was to be done “just to get the ridiculous bumper crop of rocks out of this bloody soil.”
I steered clear, but before our nooning, Daniel followed him to the stream. The discussion that transpired clearly didn’t prove productive. My betrothed’s expression was pure impatience when he joined me by the campfire.
I smiled ruefully. Poor Daniel. First Matthew. Then me. Then Gid. “We Winters are a tedious lot, aren’t we?”
“Your brother’s acting like an idiot.” His hand plowed his hair. “One more week, Harriet. That’s it. One more. We’ll finish the house. We’ll fix him up the beginnings of a garden. We’ll plant some potatoes. Then we’ll go. I don’t want a long engagement. We can get married in Batavia.”
My smile wilted. So soon? What about Rachel? She needed me even more than Gideon did. And what about Freddy? I wasn’t finished with him yet. Then there was my family in Middleton to consider. “Mama won’t understand.… If we rush this, she’ll be disappointed.… The lack of ceremony, not having the chance to help me make my dress—”
“We can throw a party after the fact. Let’s not wait, Harriet. No one knows us in Batavia. No one. Think about that: the lack of interruptions, the privacy.”
This was true. Privacy. Blissful privacy. My thoughts returned to the previous night. How wonderful it had been. The doubts remained, but now desire, like a commanding song, muffled them. “You’re right, Daniel,” I sighed.
“Is it a plan?”
“It’s a deal.”
He beamed a relieved smile. “Shall we shake on it?”
“Heavens, no.” I took his hand and pulled. “We can do better than that.”
*
“Gid?” I patted my face dry and ran the towel over my wet head.
“What?” He was kneeling by his stoneboat and didn’t bother taking his attention away from the broken board he was repairing.
“Better wash up. Friends will be here soon.” When he ignored me, I added cautiously, “For the housewarming.”
He threw down his hammer. “What’s there to celebrate? Nothing is working out the way it was supposed to.”
I gave him a stern look. “Try a little gratefulness. You have a sweeping piece of land and a sturdy cabin.” Not to mention many helping hands.
“And best friends who’ve turned into lazy drunks and a sister who just can’t wait to flit away, who’s gallivanting here and there and everywhere.” My burst of laughter only deepened his scowl. “I’m serious. It’s shameful. Meanwhile, I’m stuck with no family, no helpmate, no—no—”
“Wife?”
He slumped. “No wife.” His brow fell in his hands. After a moment, he muttered, “I’m sorry.”
I patted his crown. “Things did turn out differently than we expected, but different doesn’t mean bad. You have possibilities you’re not even pursuing.”
“Marian Gale?” He grunted and shook his head. “As if she’d even consider me.”
“I think she would. Why wouldn’t she? You’re a good catch, Gid.” I crouched to give him a sideways hug. When you’re not a gloomy fool.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Accompanied by the cacophony of the children’s shouts, Phineas alighted from the wagon with the finesse of a young duke disembarking from an elegant phaeton. He stood for a moment and scrutinized the new cabin, nodded in satisfaction, flicked a speck off his delicate yellow pantaloons, twisted gracefully but quickly enough for the long tail on his blue superfine coat to enact a jaunty wave at the end, then held up his hands to the driver’s seat, where Rachel awaited.
He wore such an expression of tender regard, I couldn’t help but gasp. Could the two actually be getting along? Had Phineas relinquished his merciless buffoonery? Had Rachel decided to look past his obnoxiousness?