A Time to Bloom (Leah's Garden #2)(49)

“I like the look of it so far.” Hands on hips, she surveyed her property. “You have enough workers?”

“I’d like more, but these are all I could get for now. Most moved on with the railroad.” He nodded at O’Rourke up on the roof frame. “Had one new man just show up today, so I’m putting him on trial.”

“Isn’t that Mr. O’Rourke?”

“You know him?”

“They’re a new family at church. From Ireland, I believe.”

“And more recently New York. He said he’s experienced with construction, so we’ll see.”

“Mr. Young is also putting an advertisement in newspapers back east for jobs for workmen in Salton, billing us as a ‘booming railroad town.’ I don’t know how accurate that is, but hopefully that will bring in more help soon.” Lark pushed back the brim of her sunbonnet. “I know my sister Del regrets that we’ve taken all the workmen for the boardinghouse instead of starting on the schoolhouse. But the new workers will need a place to stay, as do arriving families, and . . .” She raised her hands and sighed.

RJ kept his mouth shut. If anyone asked him, which they hadn’t, her sister Del could stand to be taken down a peg about her precious school. It wasn’t like she had no place to hold classes. Guilt niggled as he remembered the passion in her eyes when she’d spoken about her students during their dance at the celebration. When was the last time he’d felt that strongly about anything? And those eyes, their rich vibrant color. She’d fit nicely in his arms too. . . .

“Well, I just wanted to check in on you and also ask a question. We’re looking to breed our mare and wondered about your horse, Captain, as a stud. Anders said he’s a stallion?”

RJ’s attention snapped back to the present. What had she just said? “I beg your pardon?”

“Your horse is a stallion, correct? Would you be open to his servicing our mare?”

His face flamed as if struck by a branding iron. “Uh, well, yes.”

“Yes, he’s a stallion, or yes, you’d be open to the idea? We’d pay you, of course.”

“Uh.” RJ blew out a breath. “Both, I suppose.”

“Well, fine, then. I’m thinking she might be ready sometime toward the end of this week, from what we’ve observed. Could you come over for supper Friday or Saturday and bring Captain?”

RJ hardly knew where to look. “I suppose.”

“Splendid. I’ll let you get back to work, but do let us know if you need anything.”

“I will.” RJ watched her climb back in the wagon, willing his ears to cool. Were Lark’s lips twitching? Things sure were different out in this territory—at least when four sisters took it on themselves to run a farm alone.

Just as Larkspur drove away, a scream rent the sweltering air.

“Boss! Over here.”

Suppressing a curse himself, RJ ran over to where several men huddled at the corner of the boardinghouse frame. One worker lay sprawled on the ground, clutching his head. Blood spurted onto the dirt. Wonderful.

“Paddy didn’t see him and swung back too far with his hammer just as Mike was bending down behind,” Lars explained, stepping out of RJ’s way.

Mike writhed on the ground, groaning and holding his forehead.

“He’ll need stitches, that one.” Liam O’Rourke yanked off his neckerchief and pressed it to the wound. The fabric swiftly stained red.

“I’d better get him to the doctor.” RJ glanced back and saw Larkspur had pulled her wagon around and come back.

“Need a ride?” she called.

“Yes, please. I sure hope the doctor isn’t away.”

“I saw him entering his office when I drove by.”

RJ and O’Rourke hauled the groaning, bleeding Mike to his feet and half dragged him to the wagon.

“Come on, man, pull yourself up. You’re not dying.” RJ bit his tongue at the sharpness of his own tone. Of course, the pounding pain in his eye socket didn’t help matters. If he moaned whenever he felt like it, he’d be moaning all the time.

But Mike swallowed his next complaint and heaved himself into the wagon bed.

RJ faced his crew. “The rest of you, back to work. I’m leaving Lars in charge till I return. And I don’t want to hear of any more careless accidents when I do.”

The men nodded and stepped back to their tools.

RJ puffed out a breath and hopped into the back of the wagon to keep an eye on Mike, who was now lying quietly as if he’d fainted, though one hand still held the bloody kerchief to his wound.

One thing after another today. Maybe this incident would knock some sense into the men’s heads. No pun intended.

Half an hour later, RJ watched as Adam Brownsville finished the line of stitches across Mike’s forehead.

“You’re fortunate, young man.” Adam tied off the thread. “The claw of that hammer could have taken out your eye had it been half an inch lower.”

RJ swallowed and averted his gaze from the angry gash, his stomach wrenching.

“I thank ye, Doc.” Mike got unsteadily to his feet. “Don’t got money to pay ye, though. Not till next payday.”

RJ frowned. “Didn’t you get paid for finishing the train station?”