A Time to Bloom (Leah's Garden #2)(83)

“That’s all well and good, but I wish they would keep to their own place and not bring trouble here.”

“And what place would that be, Mrs. Dwyer?” Del stepped up to the counter, a cool smile in place.

“Well, not having first choice of our town’s new boardinghouse, for one thing. Begging your pardon, Miss Nielsen”—Mrs. Dwyer peered down her nose at Del—“but your family ought to know how the folks of Salton feel about your letting that boy stay in your building and bring disorder into our community.”

“I believe Mr. Thacker is a young man, actually. And the disorder came from our town to him, not the other way round.” Heat pounded in Del’s ears. “If the fine people of Salton have some problem with our decision, they are free to speak to my sisters and me about it. As long as they give their reasons for not wishing to welcome and defend a new citizen and hard worker of our town.” She brushed the last crumbs off her fingers, not caring if some hit the floor. “I trust I’ll see you ladies at the meeting on Monday?”

She turned and rushed past RJ to the door.

“I’m sorry, I need to go.”

“Right behind you.” He touched a hand to her elbow and followed her.

A cold wind hit her hot cheeks when she stepped out on the porch. Del paused to wind her scarf about her head. “Thank you for the treat. Forgive me. I’m afraid two fine ladies of our town nearly made me lose my temper.”

“I overhead something about William.”

“I don’t understand people. Didn’t we just spend four years in an awful war over this?” Del fought with her scarf, the wind determined to blow it over her face.

RJ stepped in front of her to block the gusts and tucked the scarf under her chin, then over her shoulder. “People were fighting for all different reasons in that war, believe me. Not as many for equality and freedom of the slaves as we might like to think, I’m afraid.”

She stilled, looking up at him. “I suppose you would know better than I.”

His face appeared older now, the eye patch and dark hair clubbed back reminding her of all he’d seen, things she couldn’t even imagine.

He lowered his hands from her shoulders and shoved them into his pockets, hunching against the wind. “See you Sunday?”

“Yes.” Del forced her gaze from his face. She shouldn’t stare. “At church, then. And thank you again.”

He nodded and strode away from her, his figure somehow lonely. And leaving her bereft.

She was glad for the long walk home, despite the bitter wind. Pale gray clouds blanketed the sky over the sere expanse of grasses. Would they bring snow soon? She’d so hoped to get the school raised before then. She’d forgotten to ask RJ if everything was in place for next week.

She had too much on her mind. Too much of it RJ himself. How had he suddenly come to occupy so much of her mind—and, if she dared to admit it, her heart?

She arrived home in time to help with the chores, grateful for a turn at the evening milking. Buttercup’s supply was dropping since she was with calf again, only yielding half a pail. But it was comforting to sit beside the cow, listen to her chew her cud and swish her tail, and lean her head against the warm flank. Things were uncomplicated here in the barn, away from horrid prejudice and abused children and rakish one-eyed soldiers who did unexpected things to her well-guarded heart.

Del closed her eyes. Lord . . . She was too weary to think of more words, thankful God didn’t need them.

After supper, she and Lilac continued sorting the dried seeds they’d saved from Leah’s Garden while Lark washed the dishes. Carefully they poured the precious seeds into brown paper packets, sealed them, then labeled each by flower variety and date. The fire crackled comfortably in the stove, and Scamp curled at Lilac’s feet with his fluffy head on his paws.

“I think he’s snoring.” Lilac leaned down to give the puppy’s head a rub. He was hardly a puppy anymore in size, though certainly in spirit.

“What did you get done today?” Del carefully penned zinnia on another packet.

“We finished filling the root cellar from the vegetable garden. And threshed more wheat, so the pile of shocks is near to gone. We still need to shuck the corn.”

“How is our wheat crop looking? Now that we can measure it?”

“Not as much as we’d hoped. But Lark thinks we’ll still be able to sell some after setting aside what we keep for flour. We scrounge for every kernel that falls, which takes more time, but we can’t afford to lose any.”

“Is nothing left in the garden now?” Sometimes Del felt so distant from goings-on at the farm, being at school so much.

“Only a few hardy greens. We got the last of the root vegetables in. Between that and the canning we did, the cellar is nearly stuffed full. We’d better not have another late tornado like last year, or we wouldn’t fit.”

“I doubt it. That was highly unusual, from what I understand, and we’re later in October now anyway.”

“I know. I was merely joking.”

At the slight edge in Lilac’s voice, Del looked up. But her younger sister was concentrating on pouring seeds into another packet, dark curls shadowing her face in the lamplight.

“Where are we on the temperance rally?” Those plans had fallen by the wayside of late, but the Kinsleys made the need all the more urgent.