She gradually lowered her right foot to the ground, testing its ability to hold her weight. The cool cloth that Roy had provided for her had done its job in reducing some of the swelling, and although she felt a slight twinge of pain when she set her foot down, it was not as severe as before. She released her grip on the headboard and took cautious steps forward, pleased to find that her ankle was cooperating and that she was able to walk.
She sat down on the edge of the bed to retrieve the shoe that Roy had so gingerly removed from her injured foot, and then she heard footsteps approaching the sleeping quarters. She turned her head to face the sound, her heart racing in fear that it would be one of the drunken ranch hands who were making such a ruckus earlier. Her shoulders sagged in relief when she saw that the footsteps belonged to Roy.
He stopped in the doorway between the dining and sleeping areas, as if he were struggling to know what to say to her. He was covered in sweat, with his hair matted to his forehead and the sides of his face. A streak of dirt was smudged across his cheek, just beneath the mysterious, yet strangely handsome, scar.
Cora finished lacing up her shoe and then stood up quickly, placing both of her feet firmly on the ground like she was a circus performer demonstrating a unique ability.
“I’m feeling much better now,” Cora said proudly, as if her quick healing was a personal accomplishment. “The swelling has receded, and I can even put weight on this leg now.”
Roy nodded slowly in acknowledgment, his eyes trailing to the floor where she stood on her own two feet without the support of the bedpost.
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, and he sounded genuine. “Let me get cleaned up, and then I’ll accompany you home.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Cora said quickly, bending down to pick up her satchel and following Roy out of the room. She was not completely healed, and she walked with a slight limp that almost mirrored Roy’s own handicap, although hers was only temporary. “I am quite capable of seeing myself back to Lakewood on my own, just as I arrived here on my own.”
Roy didn’t stop walking, only turning his head slightly over his shoulder to address her.
“It’s late, almost sundown. It’s not safe for you to go back on your own. Especially considering you have no horse with you, which likely means you hitchhiked to get here in the first place.”
Cora was back to being frustrated with Roy, this traitorous son who had the gall to tell her what was and wasn’t safe. She was also highly annoyed that he was right about her hitchhiking.
“And what makes you think I’ll be any safer traveling alone with you?” Cora demanded. Although she didn’t distrust Roy—quite the opposite, as he had proved himself today to be, well, quite the gentleman if she were honest—she felt the sudden urge to challenge him in response to his patronizing comment about whether she should travel alone.
They were halfway to the well now. Roy stopped walking and turned to face her, his mouth curved in an amused half-smile that both irritated her and made her stomach flutter.
“You’ve been lying in my bed all day with a hurt ankle, which I doctored up for you. I also made sure that the other ranch hands stayed out of their own living quarters while you were there to ensure that you had privacy and dignity. Don’t you think that if I had bad intentions, I would have already hurt you by now?”
Cora did not have anything clever to say in response, so she simply folded her arms defensively over her chest. Roy smirked and continued walking, and Cora followed his path to the well. Roy went about his business as if oblivious to her presence, and Cora watched as he soaked a nearby washcloth and wet first his face, then his hands and arms, cleansing off all the dirt. When the cloth was appropriately darkened with the dirt that had previously coated Roy’s skin, he dipped it back into the bucket of water, rinsed out the dirt, and gave his face, hands, and arms another thorough cleaning.
Cora watched in wide-eyed surprise as yet another preconceived notion she had of Roy—that he was a slovenly brute of a man who couldn’t be bothered to wash himself—was put to rest. While Roy was not the most organized or tidy man, he did place a certain degree of importance into hygiene. Yet another remnant of Pastor Burns’ upbringing that had stuck with Roy despite his departure.
Roy took a second cloth and dried himself, leaving his golden, suntanned skin free of the grime that covered him when he entered the ranch hand quarters just minutes before. He slowed his pace when he noticed that Cora was still watching him, and she looked away in embarrassment. She had been thinking that he looked quite nice when he was cleaned up, and she was afraid that thought might be written all over her face.
“Why is it not safe?” Cora pressed again to distract from her shame for staring at him.
“You’re relentless, do you know that?” Roy said, shaking his head and giving her a side eye as he walked toward the stable, motioning for Cora to follow.
“‘Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up,’” Cora quoted in response.
Roy chuckled in a way that came across as more impressed with her good memory than condescending. “Oh yeah? Where did you learn that one?” he asked as he attached Iggy to the wagon and climbed inside. He offered Cora his hand.
Cora rejected his offer for a hand up, pulling up the bottom of her dress just slightly and climbing into the wagon with independence, although wincing at the pain in her ankle in the process.
Cora set her satchel down at her feet, crossed her arms in front of her chest, and answered Roy’s question with just two words:
“Your father.”
Chapter Six
The ride to Lakewood was quiet, with neither Cora nor Roy speaking to each other from the moment the horse and wagon pulled out of the stable. The silence wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable; for Roy, it was more introspective. It had been five years since he had been back in Lakewood, not since he first left home when he was eighteen years old.
He wondered how much had changed, if anyone would recognize him, and how they might react if they were to see him.
If Roy could help it, that wouldn’t be a problem. He had no intention of lingering in Lakewood after delivering Cora safely home, and he hoped that by the time they got to town, it would be past dark and too late for them to be spotted by any members of the community.
With Lakewood being ten miles away, it took the horse-drawn wagon about three hours to make it into town. However, while they were quiet, Roy would catch Cora sneaking sideways glances at him. The condemnation of the community of Lakewood was reflected in the glances that Cora threw his way, although he was sure she thought he didn’t notice.
He knew what she was thinking. Cora was always one of the good church girls who sat near the front of church, attentively hanging on to every word his father spoke. It was no wonder that they got along so well, although Roy was at least glad that someone was near his father when he died, if it couldn’t have been him.
