Brides of Ohio (44 page)

“I’ll clean this up, Miss Long,” he said, handing Anne off to Emma.

She found herself releasing his hand reluctantly and couldn’t help but look back at him as Emma gently grasped her by the elbow. His voice sounded young, but his full beard and mustache made her wonder if he was much older. He knelt down, took out a handkerchief, and wiped up the remains of the spider. “Thank you,” she said, hoping to catch sight of his green eyes once more. But they remained focused on his task, and he simply nodded.

Peter’s heart raced. She wouldn’t have been hurt, of course; wolf spiders weren’t poisonous, but the sight of them was anything but pleasant. What set his heart at such a pace was his first sight of Anne Kirby.

He’d known when he’d taken the job working for Mr. Dixon he might cross paths with Professor Kirby’s niece. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon or in such a way. Normally he would have caught the spider and let it go, but the look of fright on her face compelled him to crush the thing.

And he certainly hadn’t expected her to be even more beautiful in person. Her small build, porcelain skin, and ginger-red hair made her look just like one of the china dolls he’d seen in the shops back in Pittsburgh.

Stop it
, he told himself sharply. She wasn’t a toy for him to play with, but a person. He tried to reinforce that thought in his mind by remembering the fear in her brown doe eyes and how shaky her hand had been as he helped her to her feet. Peter shook his head. Thinking of her like that didn’t help either.

He wadded up his handkerchief and, not seeing a trash can handy, placed it in his pocket. He’d shake it out and wash it later. He finished his work, placed the tools Mr. Dixon had given him in their bag, and slipped out the door. He struggled to push thoughts of Miss Kirby from his mind as he made his way over the gravel walkway to the new botany building.

Setting his jaw, he tried to go over the list of things Mr. Dixon wanted him to check, but all he heard was her soft voice, thanking him, making it hard to concentrate. Why had he helped her to her feet? He still felt the gentle pressure of her fingers on his. Peter was so focused on his thoughts, he bumped into someone as he walked.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!”

“Sorry,” he said. He began to move on when someone grabbed his arm. Frowning, Peter turned to see a dark-haired man a few years older than him. Another man stood beside him, thumbs in his suspenders.

“Who are you? What do you think you’re doing with that bag?”

His superior tone sparked Peter’s temper, but he managed to answer civilly. “I’m Peter Ward, the janitor’s assistant. Mr. Dixon gave me this bag this morning.”

“No, I know all the fellas Mike uses as assistants,” he said. “I’ve never seen you before.”

Peter noticed the man with the suspenders looked at him with a glimmer of recognition in his eyes and was instantly on his guard. Had he been sent by his uncle? He quickly decided to be on his way.

“Well, I’m new. Now if you two gentlemen will excuse me—”

The first man grabbed his arm. “Whoa! How about this guy? Us ‘two gentlemen’? Pretty fancy talk for a janitor.”

Suspenders gave him a hard look. “Mike said he was going to hire me for fall term. Why’d he hire you, fancy-pants?”

Peter narrowed his eyes, sorely tempted to give them the fight they sought, but held back. He needed this job and the anonymity it provided. Gently but firmly, he freed his arm. “I have to go. Mr. Dixon has things for me to do.”

Scowls crossed their faces, and Peter steeled himself for a fight just as Mike Dixon walked up.

“There you are, Pete. I’ve been looking for you.” He caught sight of the men. “Hello there, Frank. What are you and Harvey up to?”

“I brought Harvey by like you said.” Frank pointed to the man with the suspenders.

“What’s with this guy?” Harvey jabbed his finger toward Peter.

Peter worked his jaw but kept his mouth shut.

Mike sighed and stepped up to him. “I’m sorry, Harvey. Pete really needed a job. He’s been out of work for a while.”

“Then why doesn’t Mr. Cope know about him? We just saw him a few minutes ago, and he didn’t think you’d hired anyone yet.”

“He will. I’m going to tell the board at their next meeting.”

“You never did that before,” Frank said. “You always told them before you hired anyone.”

“There wasn’t time. This came up at the last minute.” Peter looked at him. Mike sounded like he’d hired him only yesterday. He’d been working a couple of weeks now.

Harvey glared at him. “I need a job, Mike.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have the funds for you.”

“Yes you do,” Frank said. “The university always gives you enough for two extra men fall term.”

“Well, not this year.”

Frank frowned and shook his head at Harvey. His face scrunched up like that of a sulky schoolboy, and Peter choked back a laugh. “You just don’t want to hire me do you?”

“To be honest, I can’t say I’ve ever heard good things about you,” Mike said. “I’m sorry.”

Both men glared at Mike for one long, tense moment. Peter hoped it wouldn’t come to blows but was ready to help if his boss needed him.

“Fine.” Harvey said finally. “Let’s go, Frank.” The two veered off the gravel path, stomping through the newly cut grass.

Mike shook his head. “Jack will need to rake that now,” he said, referring to the groundskeeper.

“Who’s Mr. Cope?” Peter asked.

“The secretary to the board of trustees,” he replied. “Don’t worry. I’ve worked here since ′78. I’m sure they won’t mind me hiring someone without their approval. They’ve never refused anyone before, even someone like Harvey Pryce.” He pointed his thumb in the direction the men had gone. “Come on, let’s finish up in the botany building and get dinner.”

An hour or so later, Peter and Mike sat down to eat in Mike’s log cabin, which stood on university grounds. It had been there since before the university’s founding, and when the state bought up the land, the cabin had been deeded over to the institution. Mike said it hadn’t been used until the university offered it to him just a few years ago. He’d installed a potbellied stove, which Peter now stood over, frying up some ham for them both.

“You sure took to the cooking real quick,” Mike said as Peter slid meat onto his plate. “It’s kind of hard to believe you’d never done it before.”

“Well, not over a stove. I learned to cook a lot of things over an open fire.” Peter put another slab of ham in the cast-iron skillet.

“So you really were a tramp, huh?”

“Not by choice,” he replied with a half smile.

“If you don’t mind me asking, just where are you originally from?”

Peter looked at his boss a moment before answering, then laughed at himself for hesitating. Mike Dixon, a kind and simple man, was by no means stupid but hardly a Pinkerton agent working undercover. “Pittsburgh.”

Mike nodded. “Never been there; heard about it though. Those steel mills sure put out a lot of smoke, I hear.”

Peter bent to tend to the fire in the stove, hiding a small smile as he did so. “Yeah, they sure do.”

He carried the skillet to the table and slid his meat onto his plate then returned it to the stove. He sat down next to Mike. The older man worded a small prayer before they started on their meal.

“Did you get to the pipes in the Main Building?” Mike asked as they ate.

“Yes I did, Mr. Dixon.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Son, do me a favor.
Please
call me Mike. Even the students call me that.”

Peter smiled. “All right.”

It would be odd, though. Mr. Dixon—Mike—was several years older than he. Granddad may have given him free rein in most areas, but he’d insisted Peter respect his elders.

“Everything in the Main Building seemed fine,” he said.

“You checked the new library, too?” Peter nodded, and Mike smiled in approval. “Good. It won’t do for students to catch cold while they’re studying, not to mention those young ladies who work so hard keeping that place looking nice.” He shot Peter a grin. “Did you get a chance to meet them? They’re just about your age.”

“Ah—yes. Miss Long introduced herself. I didn’t get the other young lady’s name.” It was true. He’d been too busy cleaning up that spider.

“She’s Professor Kirby’s niece, I hear. They’re pretty girls, too.”

Peter smiled at the look the man gave him. “I’ve got too much to do right now to think about things like that.”

Mike’s eyebrows shot up. “Well that’s a surprise. But I suppose I understand. Never did decide to get married myself. A lot of fuss, women. Not that I don’t appreciate them. Just seems easier to be on your own, you know?”

“Yeah,” Peter said thoughtfully. All those days of chasing Pittsburgh’s eligible young ladies came back to him. He’d never been serious about any of them. For one reason or another, none of them seemed right—too tall, too short, too something. Or had that been just an excuse? He pushed the ham around on his plate with his fork. Not all of them had been like that. He could have fallen in love with at least one or two if he’d allowed himself. Well, those days were over now. He’d told the truth a moment ago. He was too busy to be thinking about courting someone. He didn’t intend to try ever again. But even as he made that vow, doe-like eyes and a sweet face filled his vision.

He sighed inwardly as he picked up his plate and took it over to the washtub. The whole reason he’d turned down the job with Professor Kirby was so he wouldn’t be tempted to return to his old habits. And he would have if he’d stayed. Look at the way he had behaved today, acting like some sort of knight-errant. He shouldn’t have allowed the professor to help him get this job with Mike, but after seeing how his refusal to work for him had disappointed the man, he hadn’t had the heart. Well, at least Anne Kirby worked in the library. The chances of him seeing her again were quite slim.

Peter helped Mike clean up the dinner plates and then settled down at the table with his Bible while his boss sat and whittled. Dr. Kirby had insisted Peter keep it when he left. At the time, he’d felt bad that he couldn’t pay him for the book, but at the moment he was glad. With Anne Kirby’s beauty running rampant in his head, he flipped back and forth through its pages, looking for a verse on self-control. As he still wasn’t familiar with it, he quickly came up empty.

Frustrated, he stopped. The pages fell open to the book of Psalms. As he idly skimmed them, the twenty-third caught his attention:

He sat back, staring out the cabin’s narrow window. It was a heartening verse and gave him hope. The idea of the Lord leading him in his new life, looking out for pitfalls along the way, made him feel more at ease.
Lord, lead me in the right path; show me where You want me to go
, he prayed.
I know with Your guidance I can throw away my past and begin again.
He was a new creation now, and that meant he should desire a whole new life, one without horses or chasing young ladies.

A
nne entered her room with a frown creasing her lovely features. When she and Uncle Daniel returned to the house, he’d urged her to get ready quickly, as Dr. Townshend’s carriage was coming for them in less than an hour. But she hadn’t been able to resist slipping out to the barn to check on Scioto. To her consternation, while the horse seemed content enough, he was wild and shaggy looking, as if he hadn’t been near a brush and currycomb all day. And Ben was nowhere to be found.

Though not nearly as thorough as she would have liked, she quickly brushed him. What could Ben have been thinking? Scioto wasn’t a plow horse. Uncle Daniel intended to ride him every so often and use him to convey the two of them back and forth to church. He may be an older horse, but he was still a strong animal. Professor Townshend had even brought a couple of his mares up to the farm this summer to breed with him. Anne opened the door of her room and found Mrs. Werner waiting for her.

“There you are,” she exclaimed. “Dr. Kirby fetched me almost fifteen minutes ago to help you get dressed.” The housekeeper frowned and crinkled her nose. “You went out in the stable, didn’t you?”

“Oh no! I smell like horse, don’t I?” She unbuttoned her bodice. “Maybe it’s just my clothes.”

Happily that was the case, and soon she stood in front of her oval mirror in her best dress. It was dark green with three-quarter sleeves. Anne smiled, remembering Pa’s frown when she, Ma, and Millie had shown it to him. He hadn’t quite approved of the square neckline. But Ma had been careful to make sure it was more than proper. It was actually shallower than the one on the dress she and Millie had copied from
Godey’s Lady’s Book.
Tears pricked her eyes as she thought how hard they’d worked, making this just for her to wear for best. She fingered the ruffles at the end of her sleeve and resolved to take special care of it. It would be a reminder of them once she was far from Ohio. Mrs. Werner began to fuss with her hair, and Anne glanced at the clock on her bed table.