Within minutes he had filled a pitcher from the range reservoir. He recapped the reservoir spigot and walked over to the dry sink, thinking about how nice it was to have warm water every morning. He should have uncrated that range ages ago. He washed, and humming away, faced the mirror while lathering his face. He was just brushing the soap on his chin when he saw Hallie’s reflection in the mirror. She wore her nightclothes, but that sight wasn’t what stopped his breathing. It was her hair. He’d never seen it unbound. Pale and silvery, it hung in tangles clear down to her hips.
His shaving brush stilled.
Her startled expression turned icy, and she purposely ignored him, walking over to the range with a pottery pitcher in her hand. Kit dropped the brush into his shaving mug and picked up his straight razor, trying to ignore her. His effort failed; he couldn’t keep his eyes off all that hair. When she bent over the reservoir to open the spigot, her hair pooled like a waterfall to the dark wooden floor. He shook his head, trying to forget the sensuous image that had flashed through his mind. Pulling his razor strop away from the wall, he slapped his blade across it. When she tossed some more hair over her shoulder, his eyes locked on her mirrored image and the room reverberated with the sound of his razor flapping rapidly over the strop. Finally, in a last ditch effort to distract the dangerous path of his thinking, Kit drew the razor across his cheek.
“What is wrong with this thing?” Hallie eyed the spigot, and Kit leaned closer to the mirror so he could see her better, blindly shaving his face. She set the pitcher on the floor and straightened so she could open the reservoir lid. “It’s empty.”
“There was hot water there a few minutes ago.” Kit drew the blade across his other cheek.
“You hogged all the water.”
Kit raised his chin to shave the heavy stubble along his jaw. He completed the stroke and dipped the razor into the water basin. “First come, first serve. The early bird gets the worm,...”
“Oh, hush! You didn’t have to use it all, Kit.”
“Well, then, I guess you shouldn’t lounge around all morning...”
Hallie slammed down the iron lid. Pitcher in hand, she marched over and filled it from the water pump. She vigorously pumped the handle, using two hands in a choking grip.
He knew exactly what she was thinking.
She lugged the filled pitcher to the range.
“... in bed,” he added to irritate her, watching in the mirror as she repeated her angry motions.
She muttered as she dumped the water into the reservoir, so he couldn’t make out what she said, which was just as well, considering her expression. She returned to the water pump and pumped away.
He poised the razor below his nose and let loose with his final dig. “... in my bed.”
“Maddie gave me that room, after you demanded we move here!”
“I realize that, Hallie-girl”
“Then why did you bring it up?”
He looked at her in the mirror’s reflection. “Because I’m getting damned tired of sleeping on that crooked sofa.”
She slammed her filled pitcher on the dry sink and turned to face him. “Why do you have to sleep here? Just go out, get drunk, and crawl into someone else’s bed.”
“Damn!” Kit dropped the razor and pressed the towel to the cut on his upper lip. It hurt like the devil. Turning toward her, he pulled the towel away and eyed the blood spot. He looked up and froze.
She stared at his naked chest, her look curious, yet for all its innocence, cloaked with sensuality. Then her stunned gaze roamed downward and his body responded. Her eyes widened, and she grabbed the pitcher, holding it in front of her, like a shield.
She looked like she wanted to run, and any other time he might have tried to stop her, but now he saw the fear in her eyes—real honest-to-goodness fear. Her anger or her sarcasm he could have dealt with, but realizing that she was truly afraid of him—and his body’s response—well, that bothered him. So he turned back to the mirror, masking his concern with a bored look of dismissal.
A moment later she fled the room. Kit watched the door close, and then he dumped the basin and refilled it with fresh water from his pitcher. He bent over the bowl and splashed water on his soapy face.
“Dammit!” Kit gasped. He opened his eyes and stared at the water—the icy, cold pump water. She’d taken his pitcher.
“At Sacramento City aReverend Mr. Hummer has been arrested for an attempt to murder his wife, by suffocation, under the pretense of driving the devil out of her. She was rescued from his hands by neighbors. A strong desire was shown to lynch the reverend gentleman... Humph. Looks like things aren’t any better there than they are here.” Hallie closed the newspaper and folded it in her lap. “Well, Duggie, that’s all the news for now.”
Hallie followed her sister’s dull gaze and sighed. Dagny stared at a blank wall. Hallie placed the paper on a night table and bent over the bed. She turned her sister’s face toward her and looked into her dazed eyes. “Please hear me, Duggie... I’m sorry, so, so sorry—”
Liv burst into the room with her cat flung like a cape over her shoulder. “Aunt Maddie wants you to find the boys and get them washed up to eat.”
“Oh?” Hallie asked, not liking Liv’s bossy tone. “And what, pray tell, are you going to do?”
“Brush Mrs. Skunk.” Liv pulled a silver hairbrush from her skirts and began to brush the pregnant cat.
