“Has nothing to do with strength, Spring.”
“That’s what he said.”
“Dare I mention your brother again? He treats me like a hothouse flower at times and it can rile me no end. I talked to my aunt Eddy about it when she visited, and she asked if Colt made me happy. I said yes. She said then let him do those things that make him happy—unless he begins acting as if I’m not smart enough to cross the road alone.”
“So I should let him open doors for me?”
“I know better than to try and tell you what to do because we’re very much alike in that way. Just offering things to consider.”
“Okay. That’s fair, I suppose.” Yet, she remained opposed to his shows of chivalry because at the end of the day who cared as long as the damn door was opened.
That night, lying in bed in Colt and Regan’s spare bedroom, Spring thought back on having admitted her attraction to McCray. She didn’t like having feelings she didn’t understand. Avoiding him until he left town might be a way to solve the problem, but what if that only left her pining? Another way might be to invite him into her bed and let nature take its course. In her mind, one quick romp was all she’d need. If he were anything like the other men she’d danced between the sheets with in the past, quick was what it would be. None had ever taken more than three, four pumps before doing up their trousers and going on their way. She’d never minded the briefness when she needed an itch scratched. Coupling was for relieving lust or creating children; it wasn’t supposed to take all day. McCray was a self-professed gentleman, however. Would he be appalled by her invitation? She’d yet to meet a man who’d willingly turn down such an offer, especially one with no strings attached, so he probably wouldn’t,either—gentleman or not. Deciding to make the invitation in hopes it would rid her of the troubling attraction once and for all, she turned over and went to sleep.
The next morning Garrett was eating breakfast in the dining room when Odell came in and approached him with a smile.
“Morning, McCray.”
“Morning, Odell. Any replies to my wire yet?”
“Not yet. Want to ask you something.”
“Sure. Have a seat.”
“Thanks. Are you busy this morning?”
Garrett wondered where this might be leading but responded honestly, “I was going to work on my notes but nothing more. Is there something I can assist you with?”
“Yes. Porter could use some help. You know anything about sawmills?”
“Other than picking up lumber my uncle and I ordered, no. What kind of help does he need?”
“Getting the mill up and running because he can’t do much on his busted leg.”
“What about his employees?”
“They always leave when he shuts down for the winter. They’re due to return in a week or two. I have a small group of volunteers lined up, and thought with you being a carpenter and all,maybe you knew something about how mills run or could help with some of the repairs.”
Garrett thought it over. He did want to interview Mr. James, and this might be a way to accomplish that. “I don’t know if I’d be a help or a hindrance, but I’d be willing to give it a try.”
With Dr. Lee still away and Spring keeping to herself, his time was his own. “When does he want me to start? Is he at the telegraph office?”
“He is, so come over when you’re done with your breakfast. I’ll round up the rest of the volunteers and we’ll meet you at the mill. Thanks,” he said, rising to his feet.
“You’re welcome.”
When his breakfast was done, Garrett walked over to the telegraph office. When he entered, Porter James nodded a greeting. “Appreciate your help. You ready?”
“I am.”
Aided by a cane, James rose and made his way outside to where a wagon waited. Garrett started to ask if he needed help but waited and watched as the old man slowly but smoothly maneuvered his way up to the seat and picked up the reins. Impressed, Garrett climbed aboard, and they got underway.
They headed north and were soon following a river. He’d not seen the area before, but like the rest of the surroundings, the land was filledwith towering pines, birdsong, and stands of brightly colored wildflowers. Off in the distance the snowcapped mountains rose majestically. The countryside seemed to grow more beautiful with each passing day. “How long have you lived here, Mr. James?” he asked.
“Long time,” he replied. “Was young when I first got here though. Maybe fifteen, sixteen years old. I was a slave owned by a Methodist minister from Georgia. He and his wife came west to save the souls of the savages.”
Garrett heard sarcasm in his tone.
“By the end of the first winter though, the minister was dead from fever. His wife buried him, freed me, and took the train back to her family.”