Chapter Eight
Hazel stepped intothe barn with the unshakable feeling that there was more to Wade Pierce than he’d let her see.
She pondered that thought a moment while Wade hung the lamp they’d brought down, and the yellow light cast a cozy glow around the wood and straw.
Hazel had seen cows before, but never up close. The two in the barn stared at her with doleful eyes, and she couldn’t decide if they liked her or were just happy someone had come to milk them. With an almost gentle demeanor, Wade showed her where the milking stool and pails were kept. It was as if something had changed between them, but Hazel didn’t knowwhatprecisely had changed.
He patiently instructed her on how to set it all up, how to clear any remaining milk from the previous day, and how to stream the milk into the pail. Hazel watched, trying to commit his instructions to memory.
“Like this,” he said when Hazel struggled to imitate the way he’d rolled his fingers down the cow’s teat. He laid his hand over hers and gently pressed and moved her fingers in the same motion he’d showed her.
Hazel’s breath caught in her throat. His hand was warm and secure over hers, and his arm ran against the length of her own arm. She didn’t dare breathe. If she moved an inch, she was fairly certain she’d press up against his chest.
And just as she thought she might faint from lack of air, he let go.
“Try it again,” he said in a voice that sounded lower than usual.
Hazel nodded and tried to breathe normally as she imitated what he’d just showed her. The milk streamed into the pail. It took Hazel by such surprise that she let out a little, “Oh!”
Wade watched for a moment as she worked before excusing himself to complete other chores. The milking took a good, long time—longer than Hazel expected. When she finished the second cow, Hazel stood and stretched her back. Wade’s coat clung to her shoulders as she lifted the pail of milk and the lamp and emerged into the sunrise outside of the barn.
And what a sunrise it was! The low, dark mountains off to the east blocked the sun proper, but its cresting rays lit up the eastern sky in a brilliant arrangement of reds, pinks, purples, and oranges.
Hazel smiled at the beauty as her mind wandered. What a different side of Wade she’d seen this morning. She couldn’t begin to understand what had changed, but she was certainly happy thatsomethinghad. She’d spent so many spare moments yesterday imagining herself writing to Mrs. Crenshaw and begging for help. But now, not only was he helpful, he actuallytalkedto her, was patient, and . . . Her cheeks went warm with the memory of how she’d reacted to the feel of his hand on hers.
He likely didn’t feel the same way. Hazel didn’t dare hope that he had. And if she were smart, she’d keep her emotions in line from here on out.
But if Wade were at least kind to her—as he was this morning—then perhaps she could remain here. It wasn’t the joyful, loving marriage she’d hoped for, but it would be at least a safe and secure place to live. A place where she was needed.
And that, she supposed, would have to be enough.
Back in the kitchen, Hazel fried the eggs, hoping against time she’d have them done before the men arrived for their breakfast. The back door opened just as she’d finished the last of the eggs, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she wiped her hands and waited for the stream of hungry ranch hands to enter.
But the only person at the door was Wade. He closed it behind him and stepped inside the kitchen, which held a cheerful glow from the morning sun.
“Smells good,” he said, and Hazel’s heart soared at the compliment. “I rang the bell. The men will be here any minute.”
“There’s more than enough for all of them.” Hazel gestured at the waiting food.
Wade nodded. He crossed the room toward the small table—barely large enough to fit four people—and paused, looking down at the floor.
“This ought to be swept before people come in here,” he said, looking down at the few bits of dirt and grass that clung to the floor.
Hazel raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. Thatverysmall mess was one that he’d brought in himself after she’d already swept last night. She could remind him of that fact.
But instead, she dropped her arms and lifted her chin. “Would you like for me to instruct you on how to raise your cattle?”
His brow furrowed, as if it were lost on him why she might ask a thing. “No,” he said slowly.
