when?”
“Will you just go lay down?”
“Yeah, I’ll go, but don’t you be tearing nothing that I’ll have to stitch up later.” With that optimistic advice, Bridgette lumbered off toward the house, leaving Jamie muttering to herself.
She really did hate laundry, but she could bear it for her sister. Bear it right up till Brodie’s shirts came to the top of the dwindling pile. He would just get a kick out of this moment if he could have seen it. After accidently popping off the buttons of Caelen’s britches while cleaning them, Bridgette had protected the twins’ clothes from Jamie’s clutches.
Now with her warning ringing in Jamie’s head, she felt too guilty to do it again. Even if the bastard did deserve it. It would serve him right if she washed his clothes in mud… or with roses.
Snickering to herself, Jamie dropped Brodie’s shirt back into the pile and lifted up the dragging hem of Bridgette’s dress to rush into the barn. Just as it had in the old days, the massive metal tub sat in its stall with the well spigot hanging over its edge. Down the wooden side of the wall ran a ledge that held a variety of objects, one of which was the old rose soap Jamie knew her sister loved.
Roses that would send Brodie and Caelen out in the morning with a reminder of the treat they couldn’t touch waiting for them back at home. Jamie snickered as she plucked the little jar of soft soap off the wooden shelf. Even if it didn’t prickle their desires, the girlie scent would surely rile their annoyance.
It took her near an hour to wash their things. Jamie washed them good, real good, letting them soak in as much of the floral scent as they could before she wrung them out along the board and then to the line to hang.
The enjoyment of her prank waned out under the harsh sun as she began to sweat over the task of emptying out the wash bins and rolling them back into the barn to be stored. Even with the stink, it was nicer in the barn. It was just a little cooler, and Jamie sighed into the stall’s side, thinking of getting herself a drink from the well before going to check on Bridgette.
Geoffrey’s whinnying down the way drew her toward the anxious horse. Linc said they didn’t have the saddle to spare for her to go riding, but she didn’t really need one. What she needed was her bags. What Geoffrey needed was a run. There was more than enough light in the day for her to make it to Head of Elm and back.
Just barely…and Linc will be pissed. Not that she wanted to upset that particular brother-in-law, but Jamie really didn’t want to go back into the house and spend the day getting bitched at by Bridgette either.
What seemed like a good idea at the time didn’t feel so great nearly six hours later as Jamie finally rode Geoffrey back through the open gates of the MacAuley ranch. Drenched through to the bone, Jamie could see the pile of men waiting for her under the porch roof and knew that her that she hadn’t yet paid for her rash decision.
It looked like a lynching party, complete with hardened gun-slingers and the full flames of the lanterns roaring boldly in face of the thunderstorm that had rolled in to blacken the plains three hours past. If only it had kept rolling on, then she could have weathered it out under a tree.
That hadn’t happened. There came a point when she knew her arrival would be greeted with a response more unpleasant than enduring the ride through the rain. Clearly, she’d underestimated that point.
As she drew Geoffrey up to a stop at the porch steps, Linc greeted her. Pissed beyond the ability to speak, he had that muscle flexing in his cheek when he snatched her right off the horse. Jamie’s feet never touched the ground when he chunked her over his shoulder.
Nor did she dare to make a squeak as he carried her off in a march. She figured she should be somewhat grateful not to have to deal with Brodie or Caelen’s opinions on the matter. They passed in no more than
“Will you just go lay down?”
“Yeah, I’ll go, but don’t you be tearing nothing that I’ll have to stitch up later.” With that optimistic advice, Bridgette lumbered off toward the house, leaving Jamie muttering to herself.
She really did hate laundry, but she could bear it for her sister. Bear it right up till Brodie’s shirts came to the top of the dwindling pile. He would just get a kick out of this moment if he could have seen it. After accidently popping off the buttons of Caelen’s britches while cleaning them, Bridgette had protected the twins’ clothes from Jamie’s clutches.
Now with her warning ringing in Jamie’s head, she felt too guilty to do it again. Even if the bastard did deserve it. It would serve him right if she washed his clothes in mud… or with roses.
Snickering to herself, Jamie dropped Brodie’s shirt back into the pile and lifted up the dragging hem of Bridgette’s dress to rush into the barn. Just as it had in the old days, the massive metal tub sat in its stall with the well spigot hanging over its edge. Down the wooden side of the wall ran a ledge that held a variety of objects, one of which was the old rose soap Jamie knew her sister loved.
Roses that would send Brodie and Caelen out in the morning with a reminder of the treat they couldn’t touch waiting for them back at home. Jamie snickered as she plucked the little jar of soft soap off the wooden shelf. Even if it didn’t prickle their desires, the girlie scent would surely rile their annoyance.
It took her near an hour to wash their things. Jamie washed them good, real good, letting them soak in as much of the floral scent as they could before she wrung them out along the board and then to the line to hang.
The enjoyment of her prank waned out under the harsh sun as she began to sweat over the task of emptying out the wash bins and rolling them back into the barn to be stored. Even with the stink, it was nicer in the barn. It was just a little cooler, and Jamie sighed into the stall’s side, thinking of getting herself a drink from the well before going to check on Bridgette.
Geoffrey’s whinnying down the way drew her toward the anxious horse. Linc said they didn’t have the saddle to spare for her to go riding, but she didn’t really need one. What she needed was her bags. What Geoffrey needed was a run. There was more than enough light in the day for her to make it to Head of Elm and back.
Just barely…and Linc will be pissed. Not that she wanted to upset that particular brother-in-law, but Jamie really didn’t want to go back into the house and spend the day getting bitched at by Bridgette either.
What seemed like a good idea at the time didn’t feel so great nearly six hours later as Jamie finally rode Geoffrey back through the open gates of the MacAuley ranch. Drenched through to the bone, Jamie could see the pile of men waiting for her under the porch roof and knew that her that she hadn’t yet paid for her rash decision.
It looked like a lynching party, complete with hardened gun-slingers and the full flames of the lanterns roaring boldly in face of the thunderstorm that had rolled in to blacken the plains three hours past. If only it had kept rolling on, then she could have weathered it out under a tree.
That hadn’t happened. There came a point when she knew her arrival would be greeted with a response more unpleasant than enduring the ride through the rain. Clearly, she’d underestimated that point.
As she drew Geoffrey up to a stop at the porch steps, Linc greeted her. Pissed beyond the ability to speak, he had that muscle flexing in his cheek when he snatched her right off the horse. Jamie’s feet never touched the ground when he chunked her over his shoulder.
Nor did she dare to make a squeak as he carried her off in a march. She figured she should be somewhat grateful not to have to deal with Brodie or Caelen’s opinions on the matter. They passed in no more than
Similar Books
