The Cowboy Tutor

Madge crawled to a halt and leaned out her window. “Kenny, what are you doing?”

“Ma says the chickens have to eat the grasshoppers before they get to the plants.” He sounded as mournful as the distant train whistle. “Says I have to keep them here until dark.”

“Sounds like a chore.”

“It’s boring. Stupid chickens wouldn’t stay here, so I roped ’em. Now they got nothing to do but chase hoppers.” One chicken tore after a hopper to Kenny’s right. Two others squawked at the disturbance and flapped in the opposite direction. Kenny had his hands full keeping everything sorted out.

“Well, have fun,” Madge called as she drove away. She didn’t dare look at Justin until they were well out of Kenny’s hearing, then she saw him struggling as much as she was to contain amusement.

They started to laugh. Madge laughed until her stomach felt emptied and her heart refreshed. She gasped for air and dried her eyes. “Never seen that before.”

Justin shook his head. “Thought I’d seen every kind of critter that could be led. ’Course, the chickens weren’t exactly cooperating, were they? I think poor Kenny is going to end up trussed by his feathered herd.”

They burst into fresh gales of laugher as she turned into the yard. The laughter died as they approached the house. She slid a worried look at him. Would he think her silly? But his eyes brimmed with amusement and something as warm as fresh milk, as sweet as clover honey and as forbidden as taking candy from a baby. Yet she couldn’t deny the way his glance sought and found a place deep inside where it seemed to fit perfectly.

She tore her gaze away and delivered a firm lecture to herself. Everything about this man was wrong, wrong, wrong. For starters, she knew he was hiding something. Plus, he had been handpicked as a suitable mate for Louisa. What kind of woman would entertain thoughts for a man intended for her sister?

She bolted from the car and reached for the laundry baskets, now full of tumbled, smelly items. But Justin beat her and held them in his arms.

“Where do you want me to put them?”

She nodded toward the coal shed she used as a laundry room. “In there would be fine.” She hesitated as he disappeared into the dark interior, then slowly followed, wondering if she didn’t step into danger as she crossed the threshold. She grabbed the pull chain, and a bare bulb lit the interior. “On the bench.”

He deposited the baskets and looked about, sneezing at the smell of coal dust. “Pretty dingy in here.”

“That’s why I move everything outdoors unless it’s too dusty. Or rainy.”

“Rain would be a welcome reason.”

“Indeed.” The shed was small, and she looked everywhere but at Justin. His closeness pressed at her senses, making her skin warm, filling her lungs with tightness, causing her eyes to sting with embarrassment and pleasure at their recent amusement.

“I enjoyed our little outing.”

The softness in his voice pulled her gaze inexorably toward him. His eyes were dark, bottomless, echoing the blackness in the corners of the room. Something about his expression caught at her, held her, joined them in a common thought.

“Especially meeting Kenny and his herd.”

A grin started in one corner of her mouth and worked its way across her face. “If it keeps the grasshoppers out of the garden, he will surely be in high demand all over the county.”

Justin chuckled. “The price of chickens will skyrocket.”

“No one will be able to afford to eat a hen.”

“Might put an end to this financial crisis.”

They both laughed heartily at their foolishness, but something happened in that shared moment, something Madge would not admit. She could not, would not feel a union of souls beyond anything she had before experienced.

She jerked away. “Thanks for your help and have a good night.”

He followed her outside and paused, as if waiting for her to turn and face him. She would not.

“Good night to you, too.” He limped toward his quarters.

She headed for the house. Just before she stepped inside, she turned. He paused at his own doorway and glanced back. Her heart jerked in response. He lifted one hand in a little wave. She did the same, struggling to keep her breathing normal, and then ducked inside and quietly closed the door.

“Did you have a good time?” Louisa sat in her lounge chair. Her voice was soft but her eyes hard.

Madge knew her sister didn’t care for Justin accompanying her. Not that she had invited him. Or welcomed him. Or so she tried to convince herself. “I delivered laundry and picked up more. Not exactly a fun occupation.”

“What did you talk about?”

She couldn’t remember anything except their shared laughter and didn’t want to tell Louisa about that. “Huh? Pardon? Who talked about what?”

“You and Justin. You must have said something. After all, you went to town and back. You spent the better part of an hour together.”

“I didn’t know you would object. Where are Mother and Sally?”

Louisa sighed. “I want to have all his attention. Is that so wrong? He’s a good teacher and might turn into a good friend. They’re in the living room unraveling an old sweater of Father’s.”

Guilt clawed at Madge’s throat. “I’m sure he’ll find you very interesting. You’ll soon be the best of friends.” He wouldn’t be interested in someone like Madge. She was only an old workhorse. Louisa was a graceful swan. “Just be careful. We know very little about him.”

Louisa looked ready to argue, then sighed. “It’s not like I expect anything but a few lessons from him.”

Madge knew Louisa wanted more. And who could blame her? Louisa missed out on a lot of fun because of her health problems, but they had shared confidences all their lives. Louisa dreamed of all the things Madge did—home, love, security. “Do you want help preparing for bed?”

“I can manage.” Louisa put Mouse down, and he rushed to the bottom of the stairs where Macat waited. Louisa pushed to her feet.

Madge wrapped her arm about Louisa’s waist and held her close. Louisa had been ill so many times. Madge would do anything to protect her. “You mustn’t overtire yourself. You’ll end up sick. Then you wouldn’t be able to study with Justin.” She injected a teasing note into her voice and pretended she didn’t feel the tiniest ache in her thoughts…her lungs…her heart.

She paused at the front-room door. “Mother, Louisa and I are headed upstairs. Good night.”

“We’ll finish this before we go up.” She spared a brief smile, then turned back to winding yarn as Sally carefully pulled out row after row.

Upstairs, Madge offered again to help, but Louisa insisted she was quite capable of getting to bed on her own. Madge smiled a little at Louisa’s faint determination, then retired to her own quarters. Thankfully Father had built the house large enough for the three girls to have their own small rooms. The big room where she hung sheets to dry had been intended as an upstairs parlor for the women when they had company. Mother’s room was downstairs off the front room. Madge savored her solitude. She could think and pray and struggle with her wayward thoughts—as she did tonight—without the others knowing.

Louisa had carefully, guardedly, expressed her interest in Justin. And rightfully so. He was perfect for her, as Mother had already seen. At least, if he turned out to be honest he would be. Madge had no right to think of him as anything but Louisa’s tutor and, perhaps in the future, Louisa’s husband. And her own brother-in-law.

That settled, Madge opened her Bible. She had established a habit of daily reading as a youngster when Father had carefully instructed all of them in the value of such a practice. All three had promised Father they would read at least a few verses every day. Mother continued to remind them of their promise and the value of keeping it. Sometimes Madge mentally excused herself as being too tired, but she’d discovered she found incredible strength and guidance in the Word and comfort in prayer.

She read the chapter where her marker indicated she had quit the night before. The passage was Micah, chapter six. She began to read, got as far as verse eight and stalled. “What doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with thy God?”

Her thoughts smote her, and she bent forward until her hair fell to the page. Macat thought she wanted to pet her and pushed under her arm, but Madge ignored her. Oh, Lord, I have forgotten to be humble. I have forgotten mercy and justice. I’ve been so caught up with fighting my attraction to Justin and in fretting over how I’ll pay the mortgage that I’ve forgotten who You are. I trust You to help me be true and faithful in everything. Both in her concerns over the needed money and her wayward, unwarranted thoughts about a man who filled her with such nagging doubts. Lord, show me, reveal to me any secrets he is hiding that might harm us.

A few minutes later she crawled into bed, her mind at rest, her heart at peace. She would trust God and keep her distance from Justin.

Over the next few days Madge did her best to live up to her decision. Justin kept busy with Louisa. The little bit she saw of them together reinforced her resolve. Louisa’s cheeks took on a healthy color. She showed more enthusiasm than she had in a long time. Several times Madge heard her laughter ring out like bells. The sound both seared and cheered her, reminding her of the laughter she’d shared with Justin and, at the same time, reaffirming how perfect he was for Louisa. She caught bits and pieces of conversation between the two as she hurried up and down the stairs. Justin was always so kind and patient with Louisa. In fact, Madge told herself, a perfect match for her. She was happy for Louisa.

If only it was anyone but Justin.