The Green Lace Corset, стр. 44

If he thought she was so pretty, why wasn’t this working? She’d better take it up a notch.

She put her hand on his elbow and tilted her head up. “Wanna have amorous congress?” She’d learned that term from her aunt too.

He moved her hand to her side with a laugh and stepped back. “You don’t know what you’re proposing. Why would a nice girl like you say something like that?”

Embarrassed, she sat with a thud at the kitchen table, put her head on her arms, and wept.

He was right—she had no idea what it all meant. How could she have acted like such a hussy? She didn’t know the first thing about cajoling a man to do her bidding.

He sat across from her and said slowly, “A gentleman doesn’t take advantage of a fine lady like you.” He blew out the chandelier candles, lit a lamp for her, put on his coat, and left for the night, without so much as a good night. She cried herself to sleep.

The next morning, he carried strips of wood inside and laid them on the floor. With droopy eyes, she collected pails full of snow and dumped them in the cauldron. Mortified about the night before, she refused to meet his eyes.

At the breakfast table, he rambled on cheerily as if nothing had happened. “We’ll wait until chances of frost are over, then prepare the ground and plant the garden.”

Outside the window, sleet flew sideways in icy strips. “What would grow out here in this godforsaken place?”

“Lots. Corn, squash, and beans. Haven’t you noticed the plot laid out on the side of the cabin? Might even get us some goats, sheep, or cattle to graze. That’d make you happy, wouldn’t it?”

It didn’t matter to her, because come spring, she wouldn’t even still be there. She changed the subject. “How about teaching me to shoot a gun?”

He paused. “In this weather?”

“How about just showing me how to hold one?”

He stared at her with those eyes. No smile, no frown.

She tried to gauge Cliff’s emotions, usually evident in his facial expressions. But it seemed like he hid a secret, just like he’d hidden that money somewhere. What was he thinking? Did he want to teach her to shoot, or didn’t he? Maybe his emotions were mixed, like when meadow colors shifted as clouds passed overhead, first blocking the sun and then opening up.

“I’m going out to slice more wood.” He put on his coat and stomped out the door.

She spied a clump of gray yarn on the floor. Something must have dropped from her basket. She leaned down to pick up the clump. It was a dead mouse! The poor dear. Sally Sue squinted, grasped the thin tail between her thumb and forefinger, and avoided looking at the teeny buckteeth and closed eyes. The little critter was one of God’s creatures. Was it right to poison them just because they made a mess? Was there a way to pack everything away more carefully? After all, the mice had been here before she was.

She hurried outside, shivering in the cold, and called to Cliff, sawing in the barn.

He poked his head out the door. “What have you got there?”

She held up the mouse. “A dead mouse.”

“That’s good. Just throw it out and the birds will get it.”

“But won’t the birds eat it and get poisoned too?” Sally Sue blinked back a tear.

“Never thought of that. Just a minute.” He went into the barn and got a shovel.

“Come on.” He motioned for her to follow him to the big oak, broke the ice, and dug a deep hole. Sally Sue laid the mouse in it and said a silent prayer while Cliff covered the poor soul with dirt.

That evening, Cliff came into the cabin with a sideways grin on his face. “I’ve got something that’ll be a surefire way to keep the mice away.”

“Not another poison?”

“Nope.” Cliff stuck his fingers in his front shirt pocket, pulled out a squeaky ball of fur, and handed it to her.

It fit in the palm of her hand. She stroked the kitten’s soft ears. Its eyes were still clamped shut. “This is the most precious thing I’ve ever seen. Wherever did you find him?”

He took the kitten back from Sally Sue, tilted it onto its back, and pointed at the smooth mound. “He’s a she.”

“Oh.” She felt herself redden.

He guffawed. “It’s just nature, Sally Sue. I found her mewing in the hayloft.”

“What about her mama?” Sally Sue was in awe of the fur’s sleek blackness.

“There was a feral hussy slinking around. But I haven’t seen her for nigh on five days.”

The kitten mewed loudly. It had a white chest, paws, and tail tip.

“If we don’t do something to help, this little one won’t make it.”

He held the kitten in one hand, grabbed a rag, and went out to the front. “Open up the chest and a fresh milk container.”

Sally Sue followed his instructions. He dipped the rag in the milk pot and let the liquid drip into the kitten’s mouth; she quickly sucked it up.

He handed her back to Sally Sue. “Try it.”

She couldn’t believe how the kitten wouldn’t let go of the rag.

“You’ll need to feed her every few hours like this. Are you up to the task?”

“Of course.” Every time the neighbors’ Butterscotch had kittens, there were a slew of them. “Were there others?”

He shook his head. His eyes didn’t meet hers. “Keep her inside.”

“I know it’s dangerous out there.” She wanted to thank him but didn’t quite know what to say.

“I guarantee we won’t see any mice for a while.”

She pictured the kitten grown big and fat, with blood dripping from a mouse in its jaw. “The poor mice.”

“Don’t worry, darling. Once they know there’s a cat living here, the mice’ll tell each other and stay out.”

Sally Sue liked that he had called her “darling.” “Is that really true?”

“Cross my heart.” He waved a finger over his chest.

She sure hoped so.

He brought in