Chance Of A Lifetime (5 page)

Out in the garden, Daisy plucked weeds as she sorted her thoughts.

“He’s only going to be gone for two days—less, even,” Daisy muttered to herself. “What am I doin’ gettin’ all het up about it? It’s not like I have to be afeared of livin’ without a man—it’s all I’ve done for the past four and a half years. Me an’ Jamie’ll be jist fine, and I still have Miz Willow’s company.”

Daisy reached for a scraggly weed and plucked one of Miz Willow’s yarbs out clear to the roots. She hastily replanted it and continued her musings.

What do I care iff ‘n Bryce Chance didn’t want to tell me what he was goin’ to fetch? It ain’t like he’s trying to be mysterious. He’s just naturally tight-lipped. He’s so quiet; I reckon I’ll hardly even notice he’s not around
.

Daisy’s thoughts ground to a halt as she acknowledged the falsehood of that last one. She sat back on her heels and rubbed the nape of her neck.

True, Bryce was quiet, but it was hard not to notice him. The man had a presence that seemed to command her respect. He didn’t need words to make his opinion known—the way he stood or even shrugged spoke volumes.

Jamie’ll miss him. Jamie always notices even when people simply aren’t feeling their best. Bryce didn’t wake him to let him know he won’t be around for a couple days
.

Jamie’d looked around for Bryce at breakfast and asked her, “When go holp Byce wit eggs?”

“Not for a coupla days, Jamie.” Daisy couldn’t read the look in her son’s eyes. “Bryce has to be gone for a while, but he’ll come back soon. He has to fetch something for Hattie and Logan.”

After the initial surprise, Jamie had thought for a moment.

His “Oh,” came out so serious it near broke my heart. But what do I expect? Bryce doesn’t owe me and Jamie anything. Shore, he’s spending time with us now, but we all know it won’t last. As soon as I’ve made enough lace, I can get us back to our land and rebuild a roof o’er our heads. It won’t be as nice as the one before, but it’ll do, and we won’t be beholden to Hattie and Miz Willow no more
.

It would take a long time—probably all through the winter months—to make enough lace. Logan would stay in the holler with his new bride, but Bryce hadn’t made his plans to go back to California any kind of secret.

Yes, the more I think of it, the better this is. It’ll get Jamie used to the idea of his friend leavin’ for good. It’s nice to have Bryce
around, but we can’t rely on him forever
. She tugged hard on one particularly stubborn weed.
We don’t need to. I can take care of us myself
.

The weed snapped from its roots, the sudden lack of resistance toppling Daisy backward. She scrambled up and stared at the scraggly mess of leaves.

“Stubborn thing,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Don’t you know when to let go, and when to hold on?”

“Hold it steady, right there,” Daisy directed.

“Got ‘t!” Jamie’s brow furrowed as he held the dustpan steady.

Daisy moved the pile of dirt from the wooden floor to the dustpan with one swift, short stroke. This was the only house she’d ever been in with real floorboards. She could sweep these, scrub them, keep them nice and clean for Jamie. That way, Jamie wouldn’t get so dirty when he scooched around the house. It also gave him a steady surface to stack his blocks in complicated piles.

“Perfect!” Daisy lifted the dustpan victoriously, and Jamie clapped as she went outside to empty it. Popping back a moment later, she tickled his tummy. “Yore such a good helper, Jamie. Thankee.”

“We good teeaa …” Jamie took a breath and tried the difficult word again. “Teeaamm.”

I wonder where he heard that?
Daisy passed her hands through his soft blond hair. “We do make a fine team.”

“Byce say so.” Jamie smiled up at her.

“Ah.”
That explains it
.

“Do t’gether,” Jamie recited carefully, “wurk dun better.”

“Yore a big help. You do a lot for yore ma.” Daisy waited for him to look at her. “Yore a good boy and a fine worker all by yoreself. Remember that, Jamie.”

“‘Es, Ma.” Her son nodded happily as Daisy sloshed some water onto the floor and they began to scrub.

They giggled and made zigzags and circles as they cleaned. Jamie liked to help clean, and this was one of his favorite things about Miz Willow’s house. He could help with the floors without anybody carrying him.

Daisy handed him a dry rag and took one herself. She dried a swath through the middle of the cabin, while Jamie scooched around to help mop up the water. After they finished, Daisy helped him get ready for bed. It’d been a long day.

As she wove her needle through the intricate mesh of the netting she used to create fine filet lace, Daisy fumed. She’d always tried to let Jamie think he could do things as well as anybody else.

“Wurk dun better. …”
The words echoed in her mind and rankled. Bryce had no call to tell her son the work he did alone wasn’t good enough. Come to think of it, he’d said something like that to her the other day—about asking for help. Well, she didn’t need Bryce’s help, and she didn’t want Jamie thinking he did, either. She and her son worked hard, loved each other, and made it through each day grateful for what they had. It might not be much, and they might not do things the way everybody else did, but her son was just as good as any other boy in the holler. And she wouldn’t allow Bryce to let Jamie think otherwise.

When that Bryce Chance gets back, I’ll have a little chat with him
, Daisy decided.
We don’t need him trying to change anything
.

“Yore fixin’ to make a powerful change with this.” The general store owner, Mr. Norton, thumped the big crate decisively.

“Yep,” Bryce agreed, eyeing the crate with grave misgiving. It seemed a lot larger than he’d expected. Maybe they’d packed it in with a lot of stuff so it’d have safe shipping.

“Let’s get ‘er into yore wagon.” Mr. Norton punctuated the order by narrowly missing the spittoon sitting outside the store. “Aw, now I’ll hafta clean that.”

Bryce doubted it. From the looks of that spittoon and the porch around it, Mr. Norton rarely cleaned it—but he missed often.

The enormous crate barely fit in the wagon, and even then, it took Bryce, Mr. Norton, and three other men who’d happened to see them struggling and lent a hand. Cast iron made for a heavy load.

“Thank you, gentlemen.” Bryce slapped his hat back on his head before shaking their hands. He was set to go when he remembered something.

“Mr. Norton, would you mind bringin’ out that mirror you already wrapped up?” He wondered what Daisy would say when he showed it to her. It was tangible proof that he’d listened. He’d probably get one of those glowing smiles of hers that made him feel warm clear down to his toes. He jumped onto the buckboard and flicked the reins. It was time to get back home.

Good thing I started out early this morning
, Bryce reflected. The horses were having a rough go of it.
I understand why—the thing’s heavier’n an ox stuck in a mudhole
.

He pulled the wagon over to the side of the road when he heard the unmistakable gurgle of a mountain stream. He unhitched the team and led them to the water, letting them drink their fill and cool off.

“There you go, girls. You’ve worked hard today, and we’ve still got a ways to go.” Bryce spoke softly, patting the faithful mares’ necks one after another. “I’ll give you some sugar lumps later, after your rubdown. But first we’ve got to get back. Ready?”

Both horses nosed his palm one last time with velvety muzzles before giving soft whickers and turning around.

“Good girls.” Bryce let them know how much he appreciated their hard work. Too many people expected animals to push, pull, and carry things for them without so much as a thankyou. Some didn’t even give them enough rest or food, either. Bryce shook his head at the thought. How could anyone look into the eyes of a horse and not know it deserved to be cared for in return for its loyalty and hard work? To Bryce’s way of thinking, treating animals right just made good sense.

Refreshed by the break, the horses managed to trot a bit faster despite their heavy burden. Bryce came to the fork in the road just as the sun began to set. A few hundred yards farther, he pulled up to Miz Willow’s barn.

Bryce’s stomach rumbled loudly as he unhitched the team. The horses deserved to be taken care of first—after all, they’d worked a lot harder today than he had! He’d just led them to their stalls when Daisy walked into the barn.

“Hello, Daisy.” It was good to see her in her pretty blue dress. But something wasn’t right. He noticed it in her gait—if she’d been a horse, he’d’ve figured she’d gotten a rock wedged in her shoe.

Daisy walked toward Bryce stiffly, her arms crossed in front of her and her jaw set. To be sure, something had caused a hitch in her getalong.

“Bryce.” Daisy didn’t say another word until she stood in front of him.

He waited. No sense trying to find shelter until you knew which way the wind blew.

“We need to talk.”

Uh-oh. Men never said that. Women did—and only when they were angry. Bruce knew from living on Chance Ranch with four sisters-in-law that if a woman said “We need to talk” it roughly translated to: “If I were a man, I’d’ve given you a shiner, but I’m more civilized than that, so I have to get the message across another way.”

“All right.” Bryce fought the urge to cross his own arms. The last thing he wanted to do was intimidate her. Whatever was on her mind, it was important to her, and that meant he needed to hear it.

“I know you’re trying to be a friend to Jamie, and I appreciate it,” she began.

There was a “but” lurking in there somewhere. Bryce waited it out.

“But …”

There it is. I knew it!

“I don’t think I’ve been clear about the way I choose to raise my son.” She paused to look at him expectantly.

He had no idea what she expected. Somewhere along the line, he’d managed to botch things up, but he hadn’t a clue where. An uncomfortable silence filled the barn before Daisy let out an exasperated breath.

“I’ve tried my best to raise my son with the knowledge that he’s as good as everybody else.” She glared up at him, challenging him to disagree with her.

The lioness was protecting her cub. Daisy’s eyes lit with an amber fire, glowing through in her indignation.

“He is just as good as everybody else,” Bryce agreed readily. “Better than most, I’d say.”

She visibly deflated. He’d stolen the wind from her sails. The anger left her eyes, leaving behind two empty pools of hurt. Bryce ached to hold her close. He’d caused her pain somehow, and he wanted to make it right.

“Then why did you tell Jamie he couldn’t do things well enough by himself?”

“I never said that.” Bryce felt as though he’d been punched in the gut.

“Yes, you did!” She blazed with anger once again. “You told him the work was done better if he did it with someone else!”

“Something’s not right here. True, I tried to teach Jamie that working with someone isn’t any cause for shame.” The boy’s ma already had an aversion to asking for help, but Bryce wanted Jamie to know it was all right.