A Time to Bloom (Leah's Garden #2)(74)

“Adam didn’t take it?”

“No, he took the gig. It’s faster.”

Del nodded. “Let’s do, then. Mrs. Caldwell says the Kinsleys live a ways out.”

After fetching the wagon from the Brownsvilles’—along with the promise of Forsythia’s prayers—they drove out across the prairie. Evening shadows already stretched long, the grasses sere and gilded in the lingering October rays.

Since RJ had insisted on driving, Del tucked her mittened hands in her lap to shield them against the chill. “So what really brought you out here to Salton?”

He shot a glance at her. “Anders invited me.”

“I know that. But why did you stay after Anders left? Don’t you have family and a life back in New York?” Now that she’d begun, the questions bubbled up. Funny that she’d never thought of them before. Of course, only lately had she and RJ been getting along.

RJ blew out a breath. “You really want to know?”

“I do.”

He shifted the reins to one hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “I was in the Army Corps of Engineers during the war—maybe you know that.”

“Building bridges and such?”

“Yes, among other things. That’s how I met Anders, when our companies intersected for a time.” He seemed to debate how much to say. “Do you know how I lost my eye?”

“Anders said something about a Confederate renegade.”

“Yes. I guess there’s a number of them around even now, disgruntled Southerners who can’t let the war go. Or just use that as an excuse for stirring up trouble. At any rate, I ran into him when I was on my way home. I only lost an eye, but he lost his life.” RJ’s jaw shifted.

“That must have been difficult.” Del tried to imagine going through life with one eye missing. She’d heard the body would compensate, but even so. “Does it still pain you a great deal?”

“It’s improving since Adam started using that salt mud on me. I was skeptical—well, more outright disbelieving. But you might say God got hold of my stubborn hide long enough to sit me down to try it.” He drew a long breath. “It’s brought a relief I didn’t think possible, though pain still flares up now and again.”

“I’m so glad.” Del’s throat tightened. And all from their school excursion to the salt flats. “So you came to Salton because of your injury? Were you not able to continue the work you’d had before the war?”

“I was in the hospital for months, but I could have returned to engineering school if I really wanted. I didn’t feel the need. And after I finally got home . . .”

Something in his voice made Del look up. His face had turned hard, set straight ahead. “Did something else happen?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched.

“I’m sorry.” She glanced away. “You must think me quite the nosy schoolmarm.”

“No. It’s just . . .” He breathed out hard through his nose. “I had a sweetheart back home, a fiancée waiting for me through the war . . . I thought. I finally came back from the hospital to find she’d up and married someone else.”

“What a horrid thing.” Del’s heart hurt for him. How could a woman do that? But then, many did.

He shrugged. “Not as horrid as what many have endured.”

“I lost my fiancé in the war too. But at least that wasn’t by his own choice.”

He shot a quick glance at her. “I’m sorry.”

“It was years ago.” Yet something stretched between them, a warming thread of understanding. Del nodded at the homestead appearing on the horizon. “That must be the Kinsleys’.”

The sod house and barn stood silent as they drove up, seeming to hunker against the chilling prairie for warmth. A few chickens scratched in the yard, unshielded from hawks or coyotes. RJ set the wagon brake and jumped down, then offered a hand to Del.

Leaning on his strong grip, Del scanned the farm as she climbed down. Where was everyone? A field of grain stretched to the west, some still lying cut in haphazard swathes, the rest in slipshod shocks. Squinting against the setting sun, she saw a slender figure bent out there, attempting to bundle some of the fallen wheat into a sheaf. A few clumsy shocks behind him told of his effort. He was too small to be the father. Was it John? Harvesting all by himself?

“Miss Nielsen?” At the childish squeak of surprise, Del turned.

Bethany had emerged from the sod barn, a foaming milk pail straining her small hands. “What—what are you doing here?” She glanced between Del and RJ, the surprise on her face shifting to fear. The purple bruise around her eye was fading to yellowish-green.

“Bethany.” Del put on her gentle teacher smile and stepped forward. “This is Mr. Easton. He helps me at the school. We just came to check on you and your family, since you and John haven’t been to school for a few days.”

Bethany shifted the pail between her hands, a milky splash wetting her bare feet. “My ma’s been sick, and Pa—needed our help.”

Did Del detect a flinch? “I’m so sorry to hear that. Would you take us inside to meet your folks, please?”

Bethany hesitated and glanced to the fields where her brother had stopped bundling and stood motionless. Then she gave a slight nod and headed toward the soddy, the weight of the milk pail leaning her to the side.