Chance Of A Lifetime (6 page)

“Work together is done better,” Daisy chanted.

“Oh.” Bryce finally understood. “Close, but not quite. I taught him that work is better when done together—it’s more fun being part of a team. It makes the time go faster.” A sudden thought chilled him to the bones. “I was so sure Jamie understood what I meant. Does he think I was saying he wasn’t good enough?”

“No.” Daisy practically shrank before his eyes. “I thought that’s what you meant. Jamie said he and I were a good team when we swept the floor, and then he repeated that rhyme. … He swapped the words a little, but I’m the one who messed up the meaning.” She bit her lip. “I’m so sorry, Bryce. I could hardly believe that you would think that, but my son …” Her voice trailed off.

“Is your priority.” Bryce finished the sentence for her. “I understand you were protecting your own, Daisy. It was just a mix-up.”

“Thanks, Bryce.” She managed a tight smile. “I don’t know how to make it up to you.”

“I do.” Bryce grinned. “What’s for supper?”

How could I have been so foolish? Bryce Chance never gives anything to me and mine save kindness, and I repay him with accusation and suspicion
. Daisy paced the floor as Miz Willow and Jamie slept, berating herself.

Do I trust him when he’s never given me a reason not to? No, I jump to conclusions. Then do I ask him about it? Give him a chance to explain? No. I barge into his barn like a mother hen with my feathers ruffled, ready to peck him to death with my angry words. And after I’ve accused him of faults he doesn’t possess, he understands. He forgives me and acts like I never spoke a rotten word to him
.

He’s a good and wise man, that Bryce Chance. Jamie’s lucky to learn from him for however long he stays. I’m glad he’s here. I jist wish I could say the same thing about myself. When I think of how I treated him, I could sink into the dirt like a worm
.

“Tomorrow I’ll do better,” she resolved as she finally crawled into bed.

The next morning, Daisy awoke feeling better than she had in two days. Bryce was back, and better still, he hadn’t insulted Jamie and never would.

Daisy jumped out of bed and hurried to get dressed. She’d make a huge mess of flapjacks to celebrate. It was going to be a wonderful day.

Bryce tapped on the door while she set the platter of food on the table. Miz Willow slid the comb through Jamie’s hair one last time.

“Come on in,” she called.

“Morning.” Bryce stood for a second in the doorway as he always did, probably letting his eyes adjust. After the bright morning sunshine, the cabin seemed dim in comparison.

His broad shoulders filled the doorway, the sun catching his brown hair and giving it a rich glow. His image alongside Daisy’s recollection of his kindness the night before made him seem larger than life as he stepped inside.

“Hi, Byce!” Jamie scooched urgently across the floor and flung his arms in the air.

Bryce didn’t hesitate a second to scoop the little boy into his arms. “Mornin’, Jamie.”

“Mor’in’,” Jamie repeated excitedly.

“Do you remember what I told you I’d bring back when I left?” Bryce leaned close and spoke in a loud whisper. Daisy heard every word.

So he had told Jamie he’d have to be gone for a short time. Jamie wasn’t sad when she told him; he was remembering that Bryce had shared a secret with him.

Jamie glanced around the cabin at Daisy and Miz Willow before putting a finger to his lips.

“Not anymore, buddy.” Bryce turned Jamie a bit so they both faced the women. “Now we get to tell them. We’re going to be hauling in a …” Bryce nodded at Jamie to finish telling the surprise.

“Sofe!” Jamie threw his hands up in the air.

“That’s right. A stove.” Bryce set Jamie down at the table and sat beside him. “And not just any old stove. This one’s for heating and for cooking.”

“Glory be!” Miz Willow beamed at them. “The Chance family bought Hattie and Logan a kitchen range stove! What a surprise for when they get back.”

“Wonderful!” Daisy exclaimed. Cooking would be a lot simpler with a stove, once she and Hattie learned to use it. “We’ll have to move a few things. …”

“No, it’s far too big to fit in Hattie and Logan’s room.” Bryce beamed. “Besides, the cooking is done in here anyway. Just makes sense.”

Daisy couldn’t stop smiling at that. It did make sense, and it made sure that everyone was included. A stove would mean a warmer winter for Miz Willow’s rheumatiz and less chance for stray sparks. She’d sleep better knowing her son wouldn’t face another fire.

After breakfast—Daisy noticed with satisfaction how Bryce happily polished off the last few flapjacks—she and Bryce went to open up the crate. Miz Willow had taken Jamie to visit with a few young children in the area.

“Shore is big,” Daisy observed.

“I thought the same thing,” Bryce admitted. “I hope it has a lot of packing straw inside for shipping.”

“We’ll see.” Daisy grabbed one of the hammers to start prying off some nails.

“Wait a minute.” Bryce stopped her.

“You want to start on the other side?” She craned her neck to get a better view.

“No. I want to show you something.” Bryce handed her a flat package.

“It’s for Hattie and Logan, but it was your idea.” His smiled seemed a little shy. “Open it.”

Daisy unwound the brown paper to uncover a framed mirror a little bigger than the one on Miz Willow’s wall.

“You remembered!” She traced the wooden oval that was decorated with vines similar to those Otis Nye had carved on the wedding chest. “It matches the chest so well. Hattie will love it.”

Bryce’s grin filled her heart. He hadn’t agreed that a mirror was strictly necessary, but he trusted her and was thoughtful enough to follow through. He surprised her at every turn.

“Let’s go hang it above the washstand,” he suggested.

She nodded, following him into the cabin. He pounded in a nail at the right height, and she reached up to hang it.

“Whoa.” Bryce’s hands covered hers as the frame slipped. The metal ring on the back of the frame hadn’t caught on the nail.

He was so close, his arms reaching over her shoulders, his hands warm and rough on hers. Heat coursed through her. She hadn’t been this close to a man since Peter died, and she had forgotten how safe and cherished it made her feel.

Why would she remember that now, with a man she already knew would leave soon? Bryce Chance was a good man, but surely he didn’t feel anything for the plump widow with a four-year-old son. When Jamie was born, she’d become a mother. Why did Bryce remind her she was still a woman?

Daisy felt so soft against him, fresh and sweet like some kind of flower after the rain. Her hair brushed softly against his sleeve; her hands seemed so small and smooth beneath his.

Her surprise was reflected in the mirror. Daisy’s golden locks and fair skin glowed next to his dark hair and sun-darkened skin. Her pink mouth opened in an
O
of surprise; her brown eyes looked deep and dreamy.

She made him feel big and strong, powerful to protect her against the world, and all he wanted was to hold her safe. He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until Daisy slipped her hands from beneath his and moved away.

He stood for a moment, bereft, before sliding the mirror into place and clearing his throat. He stared into her eyes.

“Looks good to me.” He didn’t mean only the mirror, but Daisy didn’t acknowledge what had passed between them.

“Jist right.” She patted her hair. “Now let’s go see about that stove.” She led the way out the door, but Bryce didn’t mind. Daisy was worth going after.

Bryce hitched the horses to the wagon and had them pull the stove as close to the door as possible before tying the stove directly to the harness. It was the only way to get the box out of the wagon. Then he tackled trying to open it.

“There!” With a final heave of the crowbar, the front of the crate opened wide. Bryce stared at the stove, which took up almost the entire space inside the crate.

Whoever boxed it hadn’t used a lot of packing straw; they hadn’t needed to. The crate itself made a tight fit, with little chance the stove would slide around and become damaged.

“It’s incredible!” Daisy walked around it, looking from every angle. “A wood-burning stove, a kitchen range top, and even an oven built right in!” She opened the oven door experimentally and peeked inside.

Bryce smiled at her excitement. The stove was a beauty all right, but he didn’t see how he could move it. If it had come in pieces or could be disassembled, he’d have managed. As it was, the thing was fully constructed with the pieces welded together. It had already been difficult to ease it out of the wagon onto a haystack and down to the ground. Bryce didn’t see how he could move it to the cabin.

“I’ll go get the pie tins.” Daisy rushed off before Bryce could ask her what she was talking about. She returned in a moment with four metal pie tins.

“Ready?” she asked expectantly, crouching beside one of the stove feet.

“For what?” Bryce hated to admit it, but he had no idea what she was doing.

“You lift up the edge, and I’ll slide the pie tin under the leg. We do it four times; then we can slide the stove to the door.” She blinked at him. “It’s too heavy to lift.”

“Right.” Bryce hefted one corner of the stove. Pie tins weren’t wheels. He had his doubts about this scheme.

Once the pie tins were in place, Daisy hopped around, pushing aside bits of wood to clear a path. When she gave the signal, Bryce got behind the stove and gave it a mighty heave, expecting the heavy thing to scarcely budge.

He just about ended up on the ground for his doubts as the thing slid a goodly distance.

“It works!” He couldn’t hide his amazement. The metal pie tins made the stove slide smoothly across the hard-packed dirt. He’d never have thought of this in a million years.

“Of course it does,” Daisy teased him with an amused grin. “So how about putting those pie tins to work?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bryce put his hands on the stove and slid it to the doorstep.

“We’ll have to lift this monster to get it inside on the wooden floor,” he mused. “I’ll go in backwards and lift while you push it on the two back feet. It’ll slide forward, and then I’ll yank it inside.”

“Sounds good.”

Bryce backed into position, stepping inside and crouching to lift the bottom of the stove the requisite few inches. “Now!”

He pulled, Daisy pushed, and a resounding
cra–a–ack
rent the air as the stove lodged itself in the doorframe. Bryce let go, but the stove didn’t move. He put his hands on the range and leaned over it to get a view from the outside.

“It’s splintered the doorway,” Daisy moaned, hovering close. She squinted and stepped back. “Mayhap if I try and yank it back—”

“Nothing doing,” Bryce stated firmly. “If the weight of the thing itself won’t tilt it, there’s precious little you or I can do. The thing’s about two inches too wide to get inside the building.”

“What’re we gonna do?”

“Stand back, Daisy,” Bryce ordered. “I’m going to have to try and push it back out.”

“All right, Bryce. Go ahead.”

He gave the stove a quick shove, but the thing didn’t budge. He put his weight into it, digging in with his feet and using all the force he could muster.

“I’m out of the way now,” Daisy clarified.

Bryce couldn’t help it. After three days of miscommunication, hefting, and transporting the stove …

“It’s stuck,” he admitted.