My Hope Is Found: The Cadence of Grace, Book 3 (22 page)

Toby ran the rag beneath his nose, and a muscle flexed in his jaw. She wanted to ask him if he was all right but, with Gideon watching them, doubted Toby would want her to. After another minute, Gideon turned and walked toward the barn.

“Something set him off,” Toby said softly.

“How do you know?”

He rubbed his ribs. “I just know.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s right.”

“No. It doesn’t. Then again … I wasn’t either.” He glanced down at his hands as Jebediah stepped out onto the porch. “If Reverend Gardner gets wind that I punched him …”

With a soft smile, Lonnie took the rag from him. “We’ll try and keep it between us.” She rose so Jebediah could move into her place.

“I’d appreciate that.” Toby nodded a thank-you as she turned to go.

Chisel in hand, Gideon worked it through the soft spruce, savoring how this work made sense. It always made sense. And with the letter from Stuart folded up beside the lantern, Gideon needed something that made
sense. Something he could control in some small way. He heard Jebediah before he saw him. After stepping into the dim barn, the older man pulled the door closed behind him.

“Figured I’d find you here.” Jebediah pulled a stool beside him and sat. He rested his thick fists on the workbench. “Just finished talking to Toby. He’s gone now, but he’ll be back tomorrow.” Jebediah held out a hand. “Don’t make that face. Let me finish.”

Gideon set his chisel aside.

Closing his eyes, Jebediah held his hands in front of him. “This has got to stop.”

“I agree,” Gideon said softly. The sooner Toby left, the better.

Jebediah straightened and crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you two think you’re doing? Do you really believe that beatin’ each other to a pulp is gonna make Lonnie want either of you? She’s better off on her own than with the likes of either of you.” He shook his head.

Eyes on the wall across from them, Gideon slowly lifted his head.

Jebediah turned in his stool and kicked Gideon’s boot. “Are you even listening?”

“I’m listening.” Gideon glanced at the letter from Stuart. Grabbing it, he held it out for Jebediah.

The older man took the letter. Gideon watched the lantern light flicker as he read.

“I’m so sorry, son.”

“Me too.”

“All the more reason for Toby to stick around, I’d say.”

“Don’t say that, Jeb.”

“I’m sorry, but somebody’s got to. You ain’t exactly in a position to take care of Lonnie. It’s not fair to her for you to run the reverend off … just ’cause of your pride.”

Hands pressed together, Gideon felt the tendons in his wrist straining. Slowly, he nodded. “I don’t know what to do.” Tonight he’d chosen the wrong path. And it had hurt her. It was as Jebediah said. All because of his pride.

“Lonnie’s seen too much trouble in her life to have more from the two of you.”

Shame burned through him. Gideon dipped his head in a nod.

“I have a solution. Toby’s already agreed to it.”

Shifting his feet, Gideon looked at his friend and waited.

Steel-gray eyes found his. “If you’re going to plant an apple orchard, you’ll need help. We both know that, and I’m
willing
to lend you hand. Was lookin’ forward to it, truthfully. But I’m not going to.”

Heat rose up Gideon’s neck.

“Toby’s gonna be your helper.”

“I don’t think so.”

Tapping his fingertips on the work surface, Jebediah shrugged one shoulder. “Fine. Then tomorrow you’ll move off my farm.”

“Jebediah—”

“If you don’t want to work with Toby, fine. I’ll find another use for that land—other than an orchard. And you can find yourself somewhere else to live while you wait to hear back from the courthouse.”

Head dipped in a nod, Gideon stared at the space between his boots. It suddenly felt like a very long time ago that he’d looked at Lonnie’s pa and pleaded for the man not to make him marry her. Hoping there was some way he could slip out of the situation unscathed. Leave Lonnie in someone else’s hands, for he certainly hadn’t wanted to be burdened by Joel Sawyer’s oldest girl. No matter how much he’d thought he needed her after a quart of moonshine had warmed him through.

The image of Toby gently cupping her cheek had somehow embedded
itself in his mind. In that moment by the wagon, he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he and the reverend were nothing alike.

Gideon’s eyes shifted to the letter. Jebediah must have noticed.

“This is tough news, son. I’ll give ya that.” He turned the envelope over in his leathery hands. He studied the return address a moment.

Elbows on the workbench, Gideon lowered his head in his hands.

“This what started all this?”

“Among other things. I’m not proud of it, Jeb.” He tossed his head toward the house. “I wish I hadn’t lost it.” He glanced at his friend. “For Lonnie’s sake.”

Something flickered in Jebediah’s expression. “And Toby? He’s the one you were beatin’ on. You sorry for him?”

Gideon didn’t like his answer, so he said nothing. The truth hung thick enough in the silence.

“Well, then.” Jebediah pounded a fist gently on Gideon’s knee. “I’ll leave you to get some sleep.” He shoved the door open. Then hesitated. The wind tousled his gray hair as he stood several moments without speaking. Finally, he stepped back and squeezed Gideon’s shoulder as a father would a son.

Gideon sat up and rubbed his eyes with his palms. He pulled straw from his hair and, after combing fingers through it a few times, figured it wasn’t helping. He shook his blanket and folded it off to the side. Other than a crate with the kerosene lantern, his books and pipe, and a few other odds and ends, the stall was empty. That’s if he didn’t count the lingering scent of animals.

His shirt hung over the railing, dry and crisp. After knocking on the back door, he’d asked Lonnie for a bar of soap the night before. Without so much as a word, she’d practically flung it at him. With a scrub in the bucket last night, he’d done his best to wash Toby’s blood out. If only washing away his guilt was as easy. Tugging the wrinkled shirt over his head, his hand still hurt. He folded back his cuffs and, ignoring the suspenders on the top of his pack, didn’t bother to tuck his shirttails in. He needed to fix the Bennetts’ porch railing, but he didn’t want to start pounding on the house while everyone was rising and trying to have breakfast. He’d do it this evening.

Making mental notes of what supplies he still needed, Gideon moved tools to the clearing. The morning sun had cleared the horizon as he tugged Sugar’s lead rope from the barn. The old mule plodded along, and
Gideon knew better than to try and hurry her. It hadn’t snowed in days and days, and here in the clearing, almost every patch had melted away.

Hitching Jebediah’s old plow to Sugar’s back, Gideon flicked the reins, and she slowly marched forward. The plow’s blade cut through soil softened by warmer days and melting snow. Gideon leaned back, enjoying the satisfying feeling of breaking ground. When the plow stopped suddenly, he bumped into the handle, then knelt to see that it had snagged on a root. Using his hands, he probed the soil, trying to gauge the root’s depth.

He’d set his tools against a nearby tree. After grabbing a shovel, he tried to work the root out. The blade shot free, spraying clumps of dirt into his face.

He grunted.

Startled, Sugar marched forward without him. Gideon jogged after her and, in a few long strides, wrapped his hand around her harness. He smoothed her scruffy neck. “Sorry, girl.” He brought her back around to where he was working. “Easy. You just stay right there.”

After running the back of his wrist over his forehead, he bent and dug at the root. Another spray of dirt shot up.

Sugar lunged forward, breaking into a trot. Gideon went after her. He dug his heels in the dirt when his hand caught the harness. “What are you doing?” he asked in as soothing a voice as he could manage. He brought her back, commanded her to stay, and went in search of the root. He found it when it snagged his boot and he tripped. He caught himself against the dirt with his hands. Standing, Gideon picked up his shovel and flung it towards the wood. A low growl rose in his throat.

“Stay.” He motioned to Sugar when she leaned forward.

“Your technique could use a wee bit o’ work.” Standing not ten paces away, Toby lifted his chest and slid his hands into a pair of work gloves.

Gideon stared at him. Slamming his mouth shut, he marched toward
his shovel, snatched it up, and leaned it against the tree. Beside it sat his ax, and he lugged it forward. Toby stepped back. In one swoop, Gideon flung the ax over his head and down on the root, which split beneath the sharp blade. Bending, he threw the root aside. Without giving Toby a second glance, he exchanged his ax for the shovel and, after thrusting the blade through the soil, worked the rest of the root loose.

Without speaking, Toby took hold of a second shovel, and other than the sound of their blades breaking ground, they worked in silence.

The March sun beat down, bringing perspiration to their brows. Gideon slapped the reins against Sugar’s thick coat, and she picked up her feet, nearly a quarter of the plot tilled. Gideon glanced back as Toby unearthed a thick chunk of root. It clomped on top of a nearby pile when he tossed it.

Gideon spoke only when necessary, as did Toby. Gideon tried not to pay attention to the flesh beneath Toby’s eyes that was tinted blue. He kept his grip on the plow. Toby followed behind, moving the largest rocks and sticks out of the way. A line of sweat appeared on the reverend’s shirt between his shoulder blades, and Gideon knew he should switch jobs. He mulled over the thought for several minutes before finally offering.

“I’m fine.” Toby straightened. “I’m happy just to follow you.” He knelt and freed a rock from the soil, then tossed it toward the tree line.

Gideon clicked his tongue, urging Sugar onward. His arms jerked forward with the motion, grip tight. When his sore hand ached, the knuckles tinted with a greenish bruise, he shook it out gently. After lowering a large rock, Toby winced. Gideon pretended not to notice.

And he pretended not to notice each time Toby glanced at the house. Which was more often than need be. Lonnie emerged only once, both of
them stopping their work when she did. She offered a small wave, ducked into the chicken coop, then walked back to the house without looking their way again.

Toby and Gideon exchanged sharp looks before turning their attention back to their work, as if each man silently dared the other to let his gaze linger. The sun made its slow arc, rising up one side of the sky and, when it could go no higher, beginning its descent.

The screen door slammed, and Gideon looked up to see Elsie emerge. A basket hung on her arm. Skirt clutched in one hand, she plodded toward them.

Her words were breathless. “Sweet tea and sandwiches.” Her bun of gray hair bobbed when she lowered the basket to a stump. Gideon and Toby stopped their work. After unhitching Sugar from the plow, Gideon led the tired mule to some shade for a break.

They crowded around her, and Elsie handed them each a damp rag. Gideon wiped the grit from his hands. After studying their faces, she arched an eyebrow. “Where you expecting someone else? someone younger, perhaps?” Her smile was genuine as she pulled out two glass jars of golden-brown tea and a pair of sandwiches. “Don’t worry. You don’t hurt my feelings. Eat up.” She handed them each a napkin-wrapped sandwich.

Gideon nodded his gratitude. The bread was warm in his hand, the yeasty scent thick and rich. “Thank you, Elsie.” He tucked the jar in the crook of his elbow and sat on a nearby stump. Propping a foot up on a fallen log, he used his thigh as a table.

“Aye, thank you, Elsie,” Toby said.

“Looks like you boys have been hard at work.” She glanced around the field.

With his mouth full, Gideon nodded. He took a moment to swallow. “We have. But we haven’t even started clearing away the trees.” He pulled
a pickle from his sandwich and popped it into his mouth, then licked the tangy taste from his thumb.

“Well, I’d say the two of you got a lot accomplished this morning.” She glanced at each man, a knowing glint in her eye. Instinctively, Gideon slid his injured hand from view, though he knew there wasn’t much about last night that Elsie didn’t already know.