Strong and Stubborn (11 page)

Though the water helped, persistent thoughts of dinner got him to thinking about how bad he must look if his face matched his hands. The idea of Naomi handing him a plate made Mike plunge his hands back in the water for a good scrub. For good measure, he splashed his face free of dust and the grime made where sweat met dirt. Mike remembered too late that he'd given away his clean bandanas, leaving him less grubby but sopping wet instead.

Oh well. At least he wouldn't show up filthy to his first dinner in Hope Falls. Besides, he might have time to bake dry before being called in for supper.
Unless …
Mike frowned. Any work dust he gathered in the meantime would probably make him a muddy mess.

“Here.” A soft, feminine voice made him spin around. There stood Miss Higgins, holding out a fresh bandana in a now properly bandaged hand. “With my thanks for your thoughtful loan earlier.”

Unsure how to thank someone who was thanking him, Mike nodded and accepted the gift, swiftly mopping up before shoving the bandana into his back pocket. His search for something to say ended when he spotted the buckets. One rested on the ground beside her, where she'd obviously laid it down so she could dig out the bandana. A second swung from the cradle of her other freshly bandaged palm.

He shrugged his canteens so they clanked against his back and grabbed the bucket at her side. When she made no motion to give him the second, he reached out and offered, “Let me help with that.”

“Oh no.” She gave a shy smile. “You're already toting all those canteens. Besides, I came down here to get water for you—well, all of the men—to wash up for supper. It's little enough to thank you for the hard work you're putting in to save my cousin.”

“Believe me, miss,”—Mike grinned—“if the rest of the men are anything like me, they'll be glad enough to see dinner that they might miss the washtub altogether in their rush to appreciate
your
work.”

“
My
work?” Naomi discovered that once she started smiling, it was hard to stop. Maybe it was relief over knowing how close they were to saving Lacey. After so much worry, she might have gone a little giddy to know her cousin would be home soon. But honesty forced her to admit—if only to herself—that the day would have held far fewer smiles without the man standing in front of her.
Mr. Strode
.

There was something endearing about him. Despite his size, strength, and calm capability, Naomi found his good- natured awkwardness most appealing. The way he'd smacked her back, mistaking panic for choking. The mulish glint in his gaze when he grabbed her shovel. The sheepish look on his face when she caught him shaking like a dog because he'd forgotten he had no clean bandanas left. For a man named Strode, he managed to stay a little out of step.

Naomi understood. No matter how hard she tried to keep ahead of Lacey, she usually got caught in the wake of her cousin's search for adventure. Today's disaster proved more the exception than the rule.

“Your cooking.” Mr. Strode patted his stomach as though in anticipation. “There's no thank-you like a home-cooked meal.”

“If I didn't already know that you're newly arrived, that comment would give you away.” She felt the bucket slip along the soft surface of her bandages and tightened her grip. “Everyone in Hope Falls knows that Evie deserves the credit for our cooking.”

“True. The mountainside hadn't finished shaking when my train pulled in.” Something akin to concern flashed across his face too fast for Naomi to gauge it better. “In all the commotion, I clear forgot about my hopes for lunch—so you can probably see why I'm happy to give credit to anyone who stepped foot inside a kitchen.”

Hopes for lunch …
Naomi frowned at the implication behind that phrase.
Had he planned to get back on the train after he ate but stayed and helped out of nothing more than Christian kindness?

“If needed, we'll replace your train ticket.” She couldn't dredge up a smile at the thought of him going. For a town with more males than females, Hope Falls was short on hardworking gentlemen. It would be a shame to see such a helpful one ride off so soon.

“Ah. That won't be necessary since I planned to stop in Hope Falls.” His shirtfront gave a faint crinkle when he patted the pocket. “This is a letter of recommendation to give to Mr. Lawson.”

“Lawson?” Naomi hid her grin at his response by sidling closer to the stream. “Are you another sawmill engineer looking for work?”

“Not quite.” Mr. Strode stepped forward alongside her, his big boots making it more of a shuffle. Before she could dip the bucket into the water, the warmth of his large hand brushed against hers, slipping the handle away from Naomi's suddenly nerveless fingers.

Blaming her clumsiness on her bandages, she waited until he filled both buckets with water before reaching to reclaim one.

“I've got them.” He hefted both of the large buckets easily.

“But you shouldn't,” she protested. “I'm supposed to be—”

“Resting your hands so they heal?” He raised his eyebrows. “Because I'm fair certain the doctor didn't list hauling heavy water buckets around the mountainside as a recommended activity.”

“He didn't give a list of recommended activities,” she shot back. “Only to change the bandages daily and keep them dry.” Naomi knew she'd lost as soon as she said it. If Mr. Strode's brows were high before, by now they rose practically up to his hairline.

“My mistake.” To her astonishment, he set the first bucket down. “Here I thought the weight and friction might aggravate your wound, but I should have been concerned with the water itself.”

“I'm not likely to spill upward.” She moved for the bucket, only to pull up short when his arm slid behind her back. Distracted by his proximity, at first she didn't notice that he'd removed his collection of canteens and looped them over her shoulder instead.

“Just in case.” His voice went low as a whisper, catching her as surely as his brown gaze. The moment passed as quickly as it came. Mr. Strode retrieved the bucket and gestured for her to lead on.

Naomi shifted the canteens—which were heavier than they looked—to shake off her bemusement. It had been ages since a man looked at her with admiration and far longer since one left her so unsettled.

As she led the way back to their makeshift supper station, Naomi had plenty of time to think about how foolish she'd made herself. Yes, it had been an emotional day, and it wasn't surprising that the newcomer who'd been so much a part of it would unsettle her. But that was all. Lacey would come out of the mines, and life would return to some semblance of normality again.
Besides
, she reminded herself,
I'm much too old for a handsome man to turn my head
.

All the same, she caught herself looking back more than once.

N
aomi ignored the speculative glances Evie and Cora cast her direction when she returned with Mr. Strode at her heels. What she couldn't ignore quite so easily were their loud remonstrances.

“I couldn't believe it when I saw you'd slipped away with those water buckets!” Evie shook a wooden spoon to illustrate her ire, making Naomi swallow what would have been an inappropriate chuckle.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Strode marshal his features into a mask of polite concern.
He's having just as much trouble as I am, trying to keep from laughing at the spoon of wrath
.

“You know I would've seen to it.” Cora's softer chastisement didn't strike Naomi as so humorous. “Think of how upset Lacey will be when she sees the way you've injured yourself trying to help her. Take better care of yourself for her sake, if not your own healing!”

“You're right,” she conceded more humbly. “I don't know where my good sense has gone today. Without Mr. Strode's help”—she gestured for him to move forward, thinking that “help” seemed like a weak description for his determined assistance throughout the day—“I wouldn't have noticed that I'd hurt myself in the first place.”

“Mr. Strode, is it?” Cora gave an unladylike grunt as she hauled the heavy metal washbasin farther away from the foodstuffs. “It's rare that a man becomes a blessing to an entire town, but you've managed it in a matter of hours. We owe you our thanks.”

The man made a noncommittal sound as he emptied the buckets into the washbasin. “Kind words, but the blessing will be when we work through the barrier and get your people home safe and sound. Then we ought to be giving all our thanks to God for His mercy.”

“You're right.” Naomi felt like she could snuggle under the weight of his words, burrowing into their comfort like a blanket. “We have much to be thankful for.”
And I've been busy worrying about all of it for the past three months instead of enjoying it!

“This is a mighty big basin and could use more filling.” Mr. Strode kept hold of the now-empty buckets. “I'll be right back.” With that, he left the three of them to finish setting up dinner.

And, apparently, to gossip. The minute he passed through the trees on the edge of the field, Cora and Evie began interrogating.

“Did he follow you to the stream?” True to form, Evie sounded like a concerned mother hen looking after a wayward chick.

“No, I stumbled into him while he was filling canteens.”

“Still,”—Cora managed to look both solemn and pleased at once—“it seems the new arrival has taken special notice of you, Naomi.”

She huffed away the idea at once, seeing where her friends were heading. “The poor man's been thrown alongside me since the moment he stepped off the train. He's done more for Lacey than anyone else, but no one would speculate he's taken some sort of interest in her.”

“That's ridiculous. He hasn't even
seen
Lacey,” Evie countered.

“But if he had even glimpsed her, we'd all be thinking he was working so hard because he's sweet on Lacey.” The truth of that statement tasted sour to Naomi, but she knew better than anyone how a young girl could turn a man's head—especially a beauty like Lacey.

“She does have a way of catching attention,” Cora agreed.

Even when she's not present
. Naomi smiled at the realization. Her younger cousin's zeal for life transformed those around her, and Naomi knew God had made the exile to Lyman Place her saving grace. Newly grieving her father, a younger Lacey needed love, guidance, and stability just as much as Naomi needed a reason to rejoin the world. They found it in each other, and neither one would have changed it.

Though, if possible, I would've changed a lot of things since
.

Naomi shook the maudlin thoughts away. Regrets didn't change the past—but they had a sneaky way of staining the future if they weren't caught and corralled early on. The trick was to focus on what was possible today and how today could make tomorrow better.

So she put all her energy into making supper run smoothly, knowing that well-fed men could break down the wall more quickly to get Lacey back. Besides, work helped her keep her mind from worrying. It distracted her from the way the shadows stretched on the ground as the sun slowly sank behind the mountains.

Indeed, the light had grown thin and pale by the time Mr. Lawson came running through the trees, arms flailing like a rag doll's. “We broke through!” He gasped for air. “They're saved!”

Time itself seemed to speed up at his words—Naomi certainly did. She hiked up her skirts and raced across the clearing, through the trees, and up the mountain path almost before she blinked.

Panting, she skidded to a halt just in time to see Lacey wriggling through an opening in the stone wall, her hands clasped in Granger's as he steadied her progress. No one made a sound, afraid to distract them. Maybe afraid that one of the now precariously stacked stones might shift if they dared breathe too heavily. Then Lacey was out of the mine, and Naomi was running once more.