Josie followed after Travis, grateful for the stalks’ height, which helped conceal her midsection. The crop was breathtaking—golden and swaying with the breeze, reminding Josie of the Book of Ruth. Travis grabbed his scythe, its long wooden handle curved into a sharp blade. He lifted it with ease like it weighed nothing at all.
“You’ll want to hold it with your left hand below your right. Aim to cut low, right at the stem.”
Josie nodded. She understood the concept but wasn’t sure how she’d manage to lift the scythe and cut for hours without her arms aching. She watched as Travis swung the blade in a smooth arc, cutting through the stalks with ease. He moved steadily down the row, leaving a clean path behind him, as if he put in little effort.
“Wanna take a turn?” he asked.
Josie nodded, straightening her posture and pulling her shoulders back. She was eager to please him, determined to show her husband that she was more than just a Southern belle meant to sit in a parlor, sip tea, and knit all day long. “Yes, please.”
She took hold of the scythe and nearly jumped when she felt Travis standing behind her. The hair on her arms stood tall like the stalks before her. The scythe was heavier than she had anticipated. Travis gently lifted it from the bottom to help guide her hands. His hand rested over hers, positioning them correctly, and his strength made the tool feel lighter and more manageable.
“Take a swing,” he said close to her ear, making the skin behind her neck tingle.
Josie swung the scythe as hard as she could at the wheat stems, the curved blade slicing through the air with a satisfying swish. She focused on the motion, trying to remember Travis’s instructions about the angle and the grip. With each swing, she grew more confident, but the weight of the scythe began to wear on her arms as Travis’s grip loosened.
“I’m going to step away and get my spare. Can you take this from here?” Travis asked, setting the scythe down.
Josie pulled her braid over her shoulder, catching her breath. “I can try.”
Travis ambled off, and Josie was alone with the chore she volunteered for. Her braid started to unravel, loose strands of hair plastering to her face from sweat. She imagined her skin reddening under the sun, but she was thankful for the high-neckline of her dress, which offered some protection. Still, she wondered if it would be enough as the temperature continued to climb. With the relentless sunlight beating down on her, she realized she had made the wrong choice in her attire—shawl and all.
Josie glanced ahead as Travis used his scythe to slash through the stalks, his muscles flexing with each swing. His sweat-coated white shirt clung to his body, highlighting the muscles of his back. Travis wasn’t as muscular as Marcus, but that didn’t mean he lacked strength. She turned away, focusing on the scythe in her pale, soft hands. Josie couldn’t look at Travis that way—not when there was no telling what he’d do once the truth came out.
She swung the scythe back and forth like Travis had instructed, refusing to let fatigue stop her. If Josie was going to be a farmer’s wife, she needed to learn the work that came with it. Yet, a nagging worry crept into her mind—what if he wouldn’t want her after she revealed the truth? She pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the rhythm of the scythe cutting through the golden wheat, determined to prove her worth in this new life.
Josie, Travis, and Polly stopped for a break during the mid-afternoon. They had finished half a section, but they’d have to separate the stalks into piles to dry out then bind them together—meaning Josie and the children had work to do on their own. Josie looked out into the seemingly endless field and exhaled, her muscles already sore and fatigued. Few clouds dotted the sky, making the weather hotter than ever.
They would work from sun-up to sundown every day until this field was cleared. The harvest season was going to be grueling, but they had to finish before they could turn the wheat into grain and receive payment.
Josie sat on a log while she watched the children play in the distance. Travis and Polly stood in the fields, drinking water from their canteens. Josie used her shawl to wipe the sweat from her neck. Hiding her pregnancy was more exhausting than thephysical labor itself. She was burning up in her shawl and dark-colored dress, the fabric clinging to her skin as sweat trickled down her back.
She closed her eyes, savoring the cool breeze while it washed over her, like an answer to her prayers. When she opened them moments later, she was surprised to see Travis strolling toward her, his canteen in hand. His thin lips held a hint of smile, eyes glinting in the sunlight as he held it out to her.
“I figured you’d want some water. Fresh from the well.”
Josie mustered a smile of gratitude. “Thank you.” She took hold of the canteen, desperate to soothe her parched mouth. The cool water slid down her throat, instantly relieving her. When Travis sat beside her, Josie’s breath caught, and she nearly dropped the canteen. Though her throat had just been soothed, it grew dry once more. They were alone. The oppressive heat only added to her misery. Perhaps now was the time—to face her confession head-on and finally endure the inevitable consequences.
Travis’s gaze focused on the children for a moment, then he looked down at his feet with a sigh. His posture slumped, folding his hands in his lap. Lillian held Gideon’s hands as the little boy took wobbly steps. Josie’s heart skipped, both solemn and delighted at Gideon’s effort. It wouldn’t be long before he was running all over the place, and Josie would be even more worn out.
The thought brought a faint smile to her lips, but it quickly faded as the weight of her secret pressed down on her. What if, by the time Gideon could walk on his own, she was no longer in his life? That motherly bond she developed would be gone, and the boy would never remember her. Worse yet, the older ones would see her as nothing more than a liar who tried to deceive their pa.
Josie set the canteen down and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “It won’t be long until he’s full grown. He’s almost a year old now, right?”
Travis stiffened. “Yeah.” His hand gripped around his knee, and he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Josie’s brows rose at his behavior. He pressed his lips together, as though something bothered him. A bad memory perhaps? Worse yet . . . the baby? Could he tell?
“What’s wrong?” Josie asked, her stomach tightening.
Travis shook his head, rubbing his nose. “Nothing.”
“You look like something’s bothering you. What is it? You can tell me.”
Travis looked up at Gideon, who squealed as Lillian tried to take his hand. He folded his lips under his teeth and closed his eyes. “I don’t know how . . . I’m ever going to celebrate any of his birthdays.”
“Why is that?”
Travis picked up a stray stick and dug it into the ground. “Because that was the day his mother died.”
Josie’s mouth fell open. “Oh, Travis. I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have pressed—”
