The Brides of Chance Collection (110 page)

“What’re we gonna do?”

“Stand back, Daisy,” Bryce ordered. “I’m going to have to try and push it back out.”

“All right, Bryce. Go ahead.”

He gave the stove a quick shove, but the thing didn’t budge. He put his weight into it, digging in with his feet and using all the force he could muster.

“I’m out of the way now,” Daisy clarified.

Bryce couldn’t help it. After three days of miscommunication, hefting, and transporting the stove…

“It’s stuck,” he admitted.

“Stuck?” Daisy repeated dumbly. “Just how hard a push did I give that thing?” She walked up to the blocked doorway before venturing an opinion. “Mayhap if I wiggle it a little…” She grasped the edges and tried to move it from side to side, hoping to loosen the metal from where it jammed in the wooden doorframe.

She leaned back as Bryce leapfrogged over the stove and slid down the flat range to stand beside her. Together they looked at the very heavy problem.

“So…no new stove inside the cabin.” Daisy spoke more to break the silence than to really contribute. This had her stumped.

“And no doorway at all,” Bryce finished woefully.

“Miz Willow and Jamie will be back in a couple hours,” Daisy fretted. “What are we going to do?”

“If we can’t get the stove in,” Bryce said, “we’ll have to get the doorframe out. If you go to the far left corner of the barn, you’ll find the toolbox. Bring that and an ax from the wall. I’ll get back inside and start taking the door off its hinges to give us more work space.”

Daisy watched as he carefully squeezed through the doorway, somehow managing not to bang his head on his way through. Then she hurried to the barn, found the tools, and brought them back.

Bryce had already popped the door off its hinges and leaned it against the far wall. She passed him the saw. He squinted at the frame and placed the saw a few inches above where the stove stuck out.

Daisy stepped back. The doorframe was made of three pieces; the two long ones connected by the short one at the top.

“Wait a minute! Why don’t you try separating the doorjamb at the top? It’s gonna be awful hard to saw hunks out of that frame.”

“Hmm.” Bryce stepped back and craned his neck upwards. “I see what you mean.” He pulled over one of the benches. “Would you give me a hammer?”

She passed him one and watched as he pried loose the nails joining the wood together, then worked the top beam free. He clasped his hands around one of the sides and tugged.

Cre–e–eak
. The wood protested ominously as Bryce tried to angle it a little. He hopped down from the bench.

“Easiest thing to do will be using a chisel to split the board longways, then pull it apart.”

“All right.” Daisy rummaged for a chisel and rubber mallet.

“The stove being jammed in already started a crack.” Bryce ran his hand along the frame. “I’ll continue it.”

He was as good as his word. After expanding the crack, he asked for the crowbar and pried the wood apart.

“I’ll take care of it from this side, Bryce.” Daisy wielded the crowbar with precious little skill but more than enough determination. Soon she’d torn the last of the doorframe from around the stove.

“I think,” Daisy panted, tossing the last fragment away, “this should be the first wood we burn.”

Bryce’s laughter rumbled over her, the deep sound sweeping away her frustration and making her see the humor in the situation. She started to laugh, too.

After they recovered, they managed to coax and shove the stove into the cabin. Daisy gathered the pie tins, and they pushed the cast-iron monster into place.

“Ah,” Bryce drew out the appreciative sound, “the time and effort saved by modern technology.”

Daisy was giggling again. They stood side by side, each with more splinters than they could count, surveying the ruined doorway.

“I won’t be able to rebuild it tonight,” Bryce assessed. “You, Jamie, and Miz Willow will have to sleep in Hattie and Logan’s room tonight.”

“Fine by me.” Daisy stretched her aching arms. “Doesn’t matter where I am. I’m shore I’ll sleep jist fine.”

Chapter 8

T
he next morning, after a quick breakfast of day-old bread and butter with milk, they all headed to the school building for church.

“Beautiful mornin’,” Daisy remarked, toting Jamie on her hip.

“Yep.” Bryce, his stride shortened so he wouldn’t outpace her and Miz Willow, took in a deep, appreciative breath of the fresh mountain air. He held out his arms to take Jamie, giving her a much-needed rest.

“We cain fix the door tomorra. I aim to enjoy the day.” Daisy hoped Bryce felt the same way. He might be used to hauling heavy loads—his broad shoulders and strong arms certainly attested to that—but she wasn’t. That stove had been far too heavy, and she, for one, was glad to have a day of rest before tackling the broken doorframe.

“Right.”

“Good thing we’re goin’ to the Lindens’ for Sunday dinner.” Miz Willow chuckled. “I don’t know what I would’ve done iff ’n Otis Nye, Rooster, and Nessie were expectin’ to come to our place. No door to open for ’em, stove ain’t ready to cook on, and it blocks my hearth! It’d be a fine sight to see me and Daisy rushin’ around like that.”

“True.” Daisy gave a small laugh, but the rueful look on Bryce’s face stopped her. “It’s been a lot of work, but that’s a mighty fine gift. I reckon having such a grand stove’ll be more’n worth the wait. Bryce’s been so clever in figgurin’ out how to get the thang inside, the rest should jist fly by. Ev’rythang’ll be up and runnin’ afore Hattie and Logan get back.”

Bryce’s shoulders relaxed, and though he didn’t smile outright, Daisy knew he understood her appreciation. He’d worked hard and deserved for it to be acknowledged.

In a few minutes they slid onto their bench and bowed their heads while Asa Pleasant, filling in for the circuit preacher, prayed.

“Lord, we ask to feel Your presence in this place as we gather together to worship You and strengthen our knowledge of all You are. Please bless this congregation and let it be a fruitful time. Amen.”

Lord, please give me the strength I need to take care of Jamie. I have a lot of work ahead of me to provide for my son. Let me have the will and the determination to see it through
.
Holp me to figgur out what I need to do. Amen
.

Daisy rose to her feet, cradling Jamie on her hip, as they began to sing the hymns.
Funny how I cain’t hear Bryce’s voice so much as feel it next to me. Like a cat purring. I know it’s there, happy and reassuring, but it ain’t like Asa’s raspy voice up there
.

As they began a favorite folk song, Bryce’s comforting rumble stopped. Daisy could tell he was listening hard, trying to catch the words:

“Enoch lived to be three hundred and sixty-five
,

And then the Lord came down and took him up to heaven alive….”

They moved through the other verses about Paul being freed from prison, Moses and the burning bush, Adam and Eve, each time coming back to the chorus:

“I saw, I saw the light from heaven

Come shinin’ all around
.

I saw the light come shining
.

I saw the light come down.”

By the third time they sang the refrain, Bryce joined in with them. Daisy smiled as the praise rolled out of him so low and deep it flowed under all the other voices.
His sangin’ fits him—quiet and not showy but powerful strong
.

The next morning, Miz Willow took Jamie out to the garden for an outdoor lesson. Daisy had taken care of the herb garden, but the vegetable garden needed weeding.

Bryce brought out a yardstick and wrote down the dimensions for the doorframe. Then he and Daisy checked out the lumber left over from building Logan and Hattie’s new home. After selecting three pieces of the right width, she and Bryce worked at sawing them to be the proper length. Bryce finished the first two before coming over and polishing off the one she hadn’t gotten through.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Daisy marveled aloud. Bryce’s shoulders rippled beneath his tan cambric shirt as he worked the saw.

“Practice,” Bryce answered as he finished. “Lots and lots of it.”

Next they needed to sand the wood smooth. Bryce handed her a piece of sandpaper, and they got to work.

Daisy took the rough paper and scrubbed at the lumber vigorously. She had enough splinters to last through the rest of the year.

“Easy.” Bryce came up alongside her. He reached over and put his hand atop hers, leaning in and pulling back. “You don’t have to attack it. Simple, straight strokes.”

Daisy’s arm tingled. She turned her head the slightest bit and barely refrained from burying her face in his chest. Bryce smelled so good, like sawdust and leather and strong soap.

He let go, and Daisy had to force herself to keep sanding. Suddenly, the afternoon felt cold. She hoped this project would be finished soon—she didn’t know how much longer she could work alongside him and not push back that errant lock of wavy brown hair that teased his strong brow.

As Bryce continued working, he noticed how rough the sandpaper was. He’d used it often in his life but never realized how coarse the paper felt beneath his fingertips. Daisy’s hand had been so soft—had she noticed how rough his own palm was?

He shook away the pesky thoughts. He’d never met a woman any finer than Daisy Thales. She didn’t demand he entertain her or even expect him to try to fill the air with meaningless chitchat. Daisy made him feel comfortable—except for when being near her made him ache to hold her closer.

And he couldn’t. Strong though his attraction to her had grown, Bryce had noticed how Daisy made it more than clear she didn’t need him. She’d already lost the man she loved, worked hard to build a life for herself and her son, and was trying to regain what the fire took from them. Daisy had made her plans, and he wasn’t a part of them. When he left, it would be easier to quell his urge to take her in his arms, but now, while she filled the house and his mind, he struggled.

Lord, I know this is not the woman for me. She isn’t interested in me and has no place for a new husband in her plans, much less one who would take her and her son from everything and everyone they love. My home is Chance Ranch, my place beside my family. Daisy works so hard to make a life for her and Jamie here. They’ve lost so much. I can’t pursue her with the aim of making them leave behind the few things they have. I won’t try to make her feel for me what I feel for her. Lord, please take away my longing and let me enjoy her and Jamie’s friendship instead. Amen
.

After a quick break for a hasty lunch of bread, cheese, and apples—with the stove not hooked up and still blocking the hearth, no cooking could be done—he and Daisy finished reconstructing the doorframe.

Daisy shut the door, then opened it again before passing judgment. “Perfect!”

“Snug, but it shouldn’t stick.” Bryce nodded. It would hold out drafts and danger, keeping Miz Willow—and Daisy and Jamie—warm and safe.