She arched an eyebrow at him, gazing at him a moment. Her breath came fast enough he could see the rise and fall of her chest. She said nothing.
And then, faster than Arlen could process what was happening, she marched to the washbasin, lifted the pitcher, and flung the water it held at his face.
“That ought to cool off your ambitions,” she said with a satisfied grin.
Arlen blinked through the droplets dripping from his forehead into his eyes as Mrs. Gresham strode from the room, pushing past her brother.
Despite the fact that his shirt was soaked and he dripped water onto the floorboards, Arlen couldn’t keep the grin from his face.
He’d met his match with this woman. And he looked forward to sparring with her again—so long as she didn’t shoot him.
Chapter Four
Josie fumed all evening. After ensuring the horses and chickens were fed, and Turnip of course, she grabbed a couple of slices of bread and locked herself in her room as if she were a prisoner in her own house. Yelling at George could wait until the morning, when she was certain Mr. Thomas would be long gone.
She was just as irritated in the morning as she had been upon falling asleep. Dressing quickly in more of George’s old castoffs, she ventured out into the parlor. All was quiet in the house, and there was no sign of Mr. Thomas’s things. Josie grinned as she leaned against the door frame that led into the kitchen. She didn’t know what had gotten into her brother, but she trusted he would not make the same mistake again. She could already imagine telling her friend Faith Landry about what George had done.
George must have awoken before her, as she found the remainder of some cooked oats on the stove. They were still warm enough to eat, and Josie hurriedly dished herself a bowl. She ate standing as she looked out the window toward the south.
It looked as if it would be another warm day. Better warm than a chance for another blizzard, Josie thought as she finished her breakfast. Exiting the house through the back door, she made her way around toward the barn. Just as she was about to step through the door she stopped still at the sound of voices.
They only had a handful of men helping them out this summer, and by now all of them would be out on various chores around the ranch. Unless there were some things that needed done in the barn, which was possible. Josie scrunched up her forehead and wondered what that could be. Everything seemed right yesterday.
Curious, she stepped inside, blinking until her eyes adjusted to the shadowy light.
“Josie?” George’s voice called from the rear of the barn, back where they kept various farm implements and tools.
“It’s me,” she said, biting her lip to keep from immediately launching in to everything she wanted to say to him. Instead she worked her way to the back of the barn, and just as she was about to ask George what needed doing in here, another figure stepped forward.
“You.” Josie went rigid with anger, pressing her fists into the sides of her legs. “Why are you still here?”
Mr. Thomas stood opposite her brother, still looking annoyingly handsome with that square jaw, the face he had shaved clean, and that hair that somehow still seemed touched by the sun even in the shadows of the barn.
“I’m showing him the barn,” George said before Mr. Thomas could answer Josie’s question.
“And a mighty fine barn it is,” Mr. Thomas said his lips turning up just slightly at the corners.
