Courting Miss Hattie (34 page)

Harmon and Bessie Jane had returned to town the previous Saturday, and nearly everyone had expected something to happen at church the next day. They weren't disappointed. Reed walked out to meet the
Leeges
when they arrived. In front of the whole congregation, he offered
Harm
his hand and congratulations. He gave Bessie Jane a chaste kiss on the cheek. If some wondered about his sincerity, none doubted his intent. Reed accepted the new couple, so no one else could have any reason to shun them.

Hattie smiled as she dumped the dishpan full of peeled tomatoes into the colander and headed out to the back porch for more. Reed was the same kind of man that he was a farmer:

Whether it rained too much, didn't rain enough, or was just about perfect, you took what you got and made the best of it.

She paused on the back porch and sniffed the air. The fresh odor of new-mown hay broadened her smile—immediately followed by a look of horror. "Oh, no!" she cried. Grabbing up a bucket and clean dishcloth, she raced across the yard to the cellar. She pulled the door open and hurried down the steps to the darkest corner where the ice crate stood. She peeled back the burlap, grabbed the ice pick that was hanging on a nail above her, and chopped off a large chunk of the cold clear ice.

As she wrapped it in the dishcloth and ran out of the cellar, she realized she'd forgotten her bonnet. She didn't take the time to retrieve it, though. Assuring herself that the ice was secure in the bucket, she slung the handle over her arm and raced toward the fields as swiftly as a young girl.

At the hay meadow, she saw exactly what she had suspected. The team had already made several runs, leaving a ring of mown hay around the tall growth that stood ready
to
cut. Determinedly she strode straight to the team that pulled the mower and the young man who drove them. "What's the matter with you," she shouted, "not telling me it was time for the mowing?"

Reed turned to look at her. At least she thought it was Reed. It was his body and his hat, but the puffy face was unrecognizable. His complexion was bright red, his eyes mere slits. She wasn't even sure he could see.

He pulled up the team and jerked a handkerchief out of his pocket. After blowing his nose rather loudly, he looked up and said in a nasal voice, "I didn't want to bother you."

Hattie sighed with exasperation. "And you don't think it 'bothered' me when I smelled this hay and knew you were out here?"

Ever since he was a child it had been understood that the perfume of haying that delighted most caused an agony for Reed Tyler. For that reason, Reed rarely even got near the field during mowing and raking. Hattie had been hiring it done for years and paying it equally out of her and Reed's shares.

She stared at him. "I can't believe you are so unwilling to have a conversation with me that you wouldn't even tell me when it's time to hire a hay hand!"

"I just wanted to do it myself," Reed said. "I forgot it was this bad."

"Well, get down from there. I've got some ice in this bucket and you're going to need to lie down."

He managed to set the brake on the mower but was unsteady getting off the rig. Hattie wrapped her arm around his waist and allowed him to lean on her as they walked away.

"This is fine," he said. "I can lie down here."

"You're not lying in that hay. We're going to walk up this rise and get you under that shade tree. If I thought I could do it, I'd take you up to the house and put you to bed."

He managed a choked laugh. "I've thought about your bed a time or two, but I don't think today is the day."

"It would be the best thing in the world for you," Hattie said, completely misunderstanding, "but I just don't think you have the strength to make it."

When Reed hooted with laughter, she feared the heat and hay were making him daft.

She helped him to lie down under the shade tree, then seated herself beside him and began chipping the ice in the bucket. As she wrapped the small pieces in the cloth, Reed surprised her by shifting around so he could rest his head in her lap. A small sigh of contentment escaped him, and she was grateful he was able to relax.

She carefully placed the ice-filled cloth on his face, pressing the healing coolness lightly against the swollen sinuses. "Is your throat raw?" she asked. "Do you want an ice chip?"

"Yes, please."

She fished one out of the bucket. Finding it the right size with no sharp points, she brought it to his lips. Her intent was to slip the piece of ice carefully inside. Before she had a chance to ask him to open his mouth, his tongue snaked out and captured her fingers, curled around the ice, and drew it inside. The unexpected contact sent a strange quivering sensation through her entire body.

Making tiny sounds of appreciation deep in his throat, Reed luxuriated in her gentle ministrations. After a while, the sounds ceased, and Hattie assumed by his even breathing that he slept.

As she continued her tender care, her gaze was drawn more than once to the wide expanse of his chest. He had undone the buttons on his shirt. It now lay in crinkled heaps on either side of his chest, and his nakedness was a sore temptation to her.

The only man's chest she could recall ever seeing had been her father's. It had been considerably more
barrellike
than that of this lean-waisted, slim-hipped man. Her father's hair had been brown and gray, in great mats all over his chest. Reed, she noticed, had considerably less hair, but it was jet-black and curled in an attractive trail down the length of his torso. She could see where the sun fell every day and where it only occasionally visited. As her gaze followed the direction of the curly black hair, she discovered a tiny strip of pale flesh just above his belt and caught herself wondering about that area the sun never visited.

Forcing herself to look at his face again, she berated herself for allowing her gaze to wander over him so blatantly. Reed was a good friend and her partner. It was wicked of her to have such carnal thoughts about a man who had always been like a younger brother.

Still, she glanced again at his exposed flesh and wondered if the slight breeze might give him a chill. With perfectly respectable reasons, she reached out to touch him to measure the temperature of his skin. She didn't know if it was cold or hot, but it was incredibly smooth and silky. Her hand cruised lightly across him, feeling the delicious softness of those swirls of black hair. Her fingers were determined to try to make some order out of it, carefully untangling the silky black mat only to have it curl eagerly again, this time around her fingers.

Discovering his nipples, like shiny pennies in the curly black forest, she ran her fingers lightly across them. So different from her own, she mused, yet so similar in the way they sprang to attention. The vision of his hand against her breast that night so long ago flashed through her mind. The memory spawned an odd quiver inside her, and she squirmed.

Her movement must have awakened Reed, for although he didn't speak, he moved his head restlessly. She jerked her hand away from his chest as he continued to seek a comfortable position on her lap. To her dismay, he seemed determined to wedge his head as firmly as possible into that secret
womanplace
, which was just as unchastely determined to throb against him.

Panicked that she might lose control of this strange new lustfulness, Hattie focused her gaze on the hayfield and the two poor mules standing patiently in the hot sun. Grateful for her mother's stern belief in the recitation of Bible verses, she whispered to herself the entire St. Matthew's version of the Sermon on the Mount. The warmth didn't completely go away, but she gained control of her breathing and resolved to keep her hands to herself in the future.

Reed was snoring lightly now, and she eased his head from her lap. The team had been standing in the heat for the better part of an hour and needed tending. Having left her bonnet at home, Hattie picked up Reed's hat and headed down the hill with the intention of watering the animals.

* * *

Reed awakened slowly. The melted ice had dripped in runnels onto his temples and into his hair, leaving the wet cloth in a soggy heap on his face. His head was not clear, but it was better. Finding the bucket, he dampened the cloth and wiped his face and neck.

As he sat up, he began buttoning his shirt. He remembered that it was unbuttoned. He remembered everything
…
When sweet, caring, gentle Hattie had run her hands across his chest, he had wanted to moan aloud with pleasure. But he hadn't. He had been surprised but pleased by her touch. Too pleased, he thought wryly. When she'd touched his nipples, it had been all he could do not to take her hand and lead it to the area where it could really do some good. He was glad he hadn't. Her whispered Bible verses had been a sure sign that she wasn't ready to accept lustful gestures.

Assuming that she had returned to the house, Reed was taken aback when he stood and glanced down at the hayfield. Most of the sweet grass was cut, and the team was making another round under the leadership of a driver in a dress and apron, sporting his straw
workhat
. He grinned in appreciation as he watched her. Hattie Colfax was not a woman to be taken lightly.

In fact, Reed had spent a good deal of time in the last few weeks thinking about Hattie. Grabbing up the bucket and cloth, he headed down the hill toward the meadow. Bessie Jane's defection had stunned him. The embarrassment of being jilted, he'd decided, could be measured only by the sorrowful expressions of his neighbors and acquaintances, and the kind words and pats on the back from his friends and family. It was a horrible experience, knowing everyone was watching, looking for signs of heartbreak, hoping for emotional outbursts,
then
conversely thinking him brave and noble when neither occurred.

Those first few days he'd merely tried not to think at all. He'd been angry at Bessie Jane, puzzled by Harmon. Remembering the blow he'd taken from Harm down on the levee, he didn't doubt that something had been going on between those two for some time. He felt cheated by his friend, betrayed by his intended, but creeping stealthily on the edge of those emotions was relief.

He could no longer remember what he'd ever seen in Bessie Jane. All his memories of her seemed vague and out of focus. He hadn't been able to fathom it until last Sunday when they arrived together at church.

Having already decided to put the best face on everything, he had been stunned nonetheless by the sight of the two of them together. Bessie Jane had never looked happier, and Harmon had seemed more carefree and animated than Reed could remember. When he and Harmon had clasped hands, the feeling of goodwill between them had been genuine.

Thank God he hadn't married, Reed had thought. Bessie Jane could never have made him as happy as she made Harmon. A buoyant feeling had overtaken him in the churchyard, and he almost shouted out loud, "I'm free!" The thought ricocheted through him joyously.

At the edge of the hayfield he caught Hattie's eye and waved to her.

"Stay right where you are, Reed Tyler!" she called to him. "I'm almost finished here, and I don't want your sniveling to start up again."

 
"'Sniveling
'!" he hollered back in mock outrage. "I'll have
you know, woman, that I do this swelling-up on purpose, just so I don't have to do
haymowing
!"

Her laughter floated to him across mown grass, and he remained there watching as she finished the field. The wind was coming from behind him, so the worst of the dust was blown away from him. The pungent odor still tickled his nose, and within a few moments his eyes had begun to run again.

Hattie raised the blade and drove the team out of the field, heading them for home. Reed caught up with her and jumped up beside her on the
crosstongue
. "You didn't need to mow my field, Miss Hattie," he said gravely. "I'd already decided to ask Cal and Andy to come help me tomorrow."

She glanced at him and answered with almost a teasing
flirtiness
. "I don't always need to get your permission, Mr. Tyler."

His grin widened. "I can see that. But who gave you leave to go wearing my worst beat-up straw hat?"

Hattie jerked off the hat and slammed it none too gently upon his head. The motion threw her off-balance, and Reed steadied her with a strong arm around her waist. To Hattie it seemed he was holding her unnecessarily close. She failed to complain, however, and traveled the remaining distance to her barn with the strong arm of her sharecropper around her.

At the barn they parted company. Reed stayed to unhitch the team while Hattie hurried to her kitchen to check on the forgotten stewing tomatoes.

By the time Reed got up to the house, Hattie had relit the fire in the stove, washed the worst of the field grime off, and traded her hay-strewn dress for a fresh cool calico one.

"Now don't you look pretty after a hard day in the field," Reed said, coming in the back door.

Hattie blushed at the compliment,
then
harshly reminded herself that a kind word from a friend was not the same as the truth. "Well, you're looking a little better too," she said. "When I got down to the meadow, I wasn't sure your face would ever look human again."

"I
feel
a lot more human than I did then," he said, and took her hand in his. "Thank you, Miss Hattie. These hands of yours could heal a lot of hurts."