A Time to Bloom (Leah's Garden #2)(57)

“No, there isn’t,” Del agreed. She hadn’t known this quiet lad could say so many words at once. “You know, my family is having a boardinghouse built in town. Perhaps you could stop by the site sometime and see if Mr. Easton would give you some scraps.” Not that she’d have considered RJ the genial type, but he seemed to have softened some at their home the other evening.

“I think my da has been working there.” Timothy straightened, his eyes lighting. “That’s a grand idea. Thank you, Miss Nielsen.”

Mr. O’Rourke working on the boardinghouse? That was news to her. But between teaching and helping on the farm, it was little wonder Del wasn’t up on all the news in town, let alone who RJ had hired on for the job.

A sudden shriek sent both her and Timothy hurrying for the creek.

Josie Jeffers stood knee-deep in a muddy sinkhole and was sinking farther. Lilac had her fast by the hand, her own boots sinking, while the children around shouted encouragement or admonitions.

Del ran toward them, holding her skirts away from the clinging brush. “Stay back, children. Lilac, how stuck is she?”

“It’s a patch of quicksand. We didn’t realize. Get a branch.”

Del turned to dash for one and ran smack into Jesse, who held out a branch bigger than the one he’d been carving. She snatched it and ran back to the mud. Keeping her own feet on firm ground, she held out the branch to Lilac.

Her sister reached it out to Josie. “Put it under your back, little one. That’s it. Now lie back on it. We’re going to pull you out.”

Del steadied Lilac’s waist while her sister tugged, the mud sucking and oozing as it gave up the battle. The little girl squelched free with a sudden burst, sending Lilac and Del tumbling in a heap, Josie landing muddily on top.

The children clapped and cheered. Jesse and Climie held out hands to help everyone up.

Del staggered to her feet, knees weak now that the danger was past. She knelt beside Josie and brushed back the child’s muddy hair. Goodness, this little one was prone to crises. “Are you all right, Josie?”

Josie hiccupped a sob and nodded.

“That was frightening, I know.” Del hugged her. “But you’re safe now. And think what a story you’ll have to tell from our outing.”

A smile tipped the corners of Josie’s mouth, and she ran to join her friends, safely on higher ground under Mrs. Caldwell’s watchful eye.

“Well.” Del blew out a breath, her hands still trembling. “I think that’s enough excitement for one day. We’d better head back.” She reached for Lilac’s hand beside her. “You all right?”

“I am.” Lilac squeezed back, her face pinched. “I’m sorry. I should have taken more care.”

“Quicksand is so hard to see or predict. You had the presence of mind to keep hold of her and get her out. That’s what counts.” Del frowned. “Whatever are you doing, Jesse?”

Being careful where he stepped, the young man was poking with the branch under some brush near the sinkhole. “Q-quicksand forms where there’s lots of water. I’m t-tryin’ to see where it’s coming from. We’re not by the c-creek.” He stepped onto a grassy hummock and bent to clear away reeds with his hands. “There.” He sat back with a grin as water bubbled up through the mud. “It’s a spring.”

“Oh my goodness.” Mrs. Caldwell hurried forward. “I wonder—we’re not that far from where our friend Atika used to live. Could this be the salt spring she told us about? We’ve never been able to find it.”

“What salt spring?” Climie asked.

“The native people used the waters for various ailments, and the mud too, I believe. Dr. Brownsville asked Henry about it, wondering if it might help that young man’s eye.”

“RJ—that is, Mr. Easton?” Del had heard nothing of this. But why would she? She bent close to the spring and ran her hand through the cool, muddy bubbles. “Perhaps we can take some mud back with us and see what the doctor thinks.”

“A fine idea.” Mrs. Caldwell nodded. “I believe I’ve got an empty jar in my wagon from the tea I brought.”

“Or this.” Climie appeared at Del’s elbow, a small crock in hand that she must have fetched from their own basket in the wagon.

“Thank you.” Del took it with a smile and shake of her head. “How do you always know just what we need?”

“She p-pays attention, that’s how,” Jesse said, sending Climie a shy grin.

Del bent to scoop up the mud, wonder and foreboding mingling in her heart. If only this could make a difference for RJ. But, oh, she was terribly afraid she wasn’t mistaken about Jesse and Climie at all. And what could possibly come of that?





17


RJ could hardly believe what he was seeing.

Perched up on a roof beam of the skeleton boardinghouse, he stared down as Clive Johnson approached the building site. Or more accurately, staggered toward it.

Was the man dead-dog drunk?

Clive always tended to be late, but today RJ had given up on seeing him at all. Work started at sunrise—all the men knew that—and the sun was climbing toward midmorning.

Now here came Johnson, lurching along with an out-of-tune whistle as if he hadn’t a care in the world. And maybe he hadn’t, with that much alcohol in him.