Welcome to Paradise (23 page)

That
had
made things a little better, Gabe thought on Saturday as they walked along the path toward today’s challenges. They’d had a few minutes in the garden another day, the half-hour they’d spent milking every night. Not exactly the most romantic spot, though. He wasn’t far enough gone yet to grope a girl in the middle of the cow pies.

No, not nearly enough chances to be with her. A couple short walks, always trailed at a discreet distance, pulling her into the trees to kiss her. Lingering for a whispered goodnight, a brief embrace before climbing the ladders to their opposite lofts. And, whenever he could, holding her hand. It had felt so good when he’d first had the chance to do it, he thought, squeezing that
same
hand in his own now. How quickly, though, he’d wanted so much more.

He sighed in frustration and tightened his hold on her as they approached their destination. They’d been given directions to a new spot this time, not the Clearing. Which had occasioned some conversation. But they’d just have to see when they got there. And if he didn’t get his mind into the game, he reminded himself, and win this challenge, he wasn’t going to have any more time with Mira at all, because she and Scott would be leaving.

“Oh, no,” Gabe heard Zara say from behind him as Arcadia came into the challenge area from the opposite direction.
Four contestants walking.
And one, Hank, on crutches.
“What happened? And why didn’t I know?”

“Welcome,” Cliff said when both teams had arrived in front of him. “We’ve got you in a new spot today, as you’ve noticed, closer to Arcadia. And that’s partially because of Hank. Good news is
,
it’s just an ankle strain. We’re keeping him off it today though, Zara, just to be on the safe side.”

Hank waggled a crutch at his wife with a grin. “Need to watch where I’m going better, that’s all,” he called out. “Stepped in a gopher hole and twisted my ankle. Good as new in a couple days.”

“So that makes it pretty obvious
who
Arcadia will be sitting out today,” Cliff went on. “Because as you can see, the men are going to be plowing today.”

Sure enough, two horses were standing with their
handlers,
each hitched to the smaller cultivator, Gabe saw with relief, not the big breaking plow.
Small mercies, anyway.

“This one is going to be man against man,” Cliff told them. “Three separate races, plowing down to the end of the field here, then turning around and coming back. Easy, right? You’ll be getting points for how straight your furrow is, and, of course, how fast you do it.”

“Here are our pairs,” he went on. “We’ve selected them for you, just to make things easier. First up, Stanley against Alec.
Second, Gabe against Calvin.
And for our last leg,” he paused significantly, “Kevin against Scott.”

Hank swung
himself
over to the bench, took a seat with the three women as the rest of the men gathered in their teams at their start lines.

“Good thing we practiced,” Gabe muttered to Kevin and Stanley. “Let’s hope they haven’t.”

But as Stanley moved down the field alongside Alec to start the event, it was clear that Arcadia, too, had done its share of plowing this past week. Stanley was giving it his usual strong effort, but Alec had clearly been getting into shape out here. Gabe watched in dismay as Alec made the turn ahead of Stanley, widened the gap on the return journey. At the same time, he found himself proud of his normally deskbound brother. No Dr. Pepper, no late nights now, and Alec was showing the results. He was leaner, harder. And, Gabe thought as his twin pushed with all his might for the finish, taking this completely seriously.

Stanley didn’t let up despite Alec’s lead, and was blowing hard, sweat standing out in huge patches on his pale blue work shirt, by the time he reached the finish line. Gabe handed him a jar of water, clapped him on the back.

“Good job,” he told the older man.

Stanley shook his head tiredly, took a welcome gulp of the cold water. “Twenty years ago, I would’ve left your brother in the dust. I’m not the man I was then, and that’s the truth. Hope I haven’t given you too much to make up. Can’t believe I’m saying it, but I’m betting you can beat my boy out there.”

“I know what you mean,” Gabe said ruefully. “Loyalty’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

“And that’s 10 points to Arcadia,” John announced after coming back from inspecting the two men’s furrows. “Alec came in with a good lead, but Stanley, you plowed it straighter.”

“Next pair up,” Cliff called. “Gabe and Calvin,” he gestured widely, “come on down.”

Gabe glanced across at Calvin, frowning with concentration behind his plow. Stanley thought he had this, he reminded himself. And Stanley ought to know.

“Ready . . . set . . . GO!” Cliff shouted, and they were off. Gabe kept his eyes glued on the black soil ahead of him, concentrated on plowing a straight furrow, on walking as quickly as he could while using all his considerable strength to keep the plow firmly rooted in the ground. Began the turn around the post at the end of the field, and saw with relief that he had a bit of a lead already.

Calvin wasn’t going to make it easy, though. The other man was pushing himself to the limit. Gabe wrested his gaze away again, focused with all his intensity on the task at hand. By the time he had reached the finish line, he was blowing as hard, sweating as much as Stanley had been. But had also come in ahead of Calvin.

“You both plowed it straight,” John announced. “And Gabe came in a little faster. That’s five points to Paradise, I’d say. So we’ve got . . .” He stopped. “Arcadia by five.”

“Which means it’s a cliffhanger,” Cliff agreed. “It all comes down to the last leg. Kevin and Scott, come on over and get started.”

Gabe felt a stab of worry as Kevin lined up behind his horse and Scott did the same.
Not that Kevin couldn’t win.
Gabe didn’t have a doubt in the world that Kevin could beat Scott if he tried.
Would
he be trying, though? Kevin and Rachel would be better off, after all, if Arcadia won today. And strategy was always uppermost, Gabe knew, in Kevin’s devious mind.
 

“Ready . . . set . . . GO!” Cliff shouted for a final time. And the challenge was on.

Two things were clear to Gabe at once. First, that Kevin would have to practically lie down behind the horse to lose to Scott. And second, that he wasn’t going to. As always, Kevin and the horse seemed to have established an immediate rapport, some magic
that traveled down the reins and made the animal go
exactly where the man wanted her to. And Kevin, too, had gained muscle and stamina out here.

Scott, on the other hand . . . Gabe supposed, watching the tall, thin figure struggling behind the horse, that Scott had got stronger. It was pretty hard not to, when you were doing this much physical labor every day. But as far as rapport with animals . . . whatever was traveling down the reins from Scott was the opposite of encouraging. In fact, his horse seemed to be slowing down, not speeding up.

“Go! Damn it to
Hell! Go!”
A string of curses followed from the end of the field. Kevin had made the turn, was on the way back, but Scott was floundering badly, the horse seeming to decide that he would just as soon keep heading straight ahead.

In the end, Scott had to leave the plow, go around to the horse’s head, and lead him by the bridle to make the turn. And by that time, Kevin was all but galloping home, to the whoops and cheers of the rest of the Paradise homestead.

John watched, his expression bemused, as Scott finally approached, red-faced, furious, and still swearing, back at the finish line, then dropped the plow handles with disgust and moved to confront the older man.

“How am I supposed to compete,” he raged, “if you give me a lousy horse? This was rigged! The whole thing’s a setup!”

“
Wellll
. . .” John removed his hat and scratched his head thoughtfully, then settled it carefully back on his grizzled head. Scuffed a boot in the dirt, seeming to examine the ground before looking back up at Scott, who stood clenching and unclenching his fists impatiently. “Didn’t seem like anybody else had any problem,” John drawled. “Alec, now, he did just fine. Calvin too.”

“The horse was worn out,” Scott insisted.
“Their
horse,” he nodded contemptuously over at Paradise, “was still fresh.
Whereas
my
horse was obviously overworked, or weak to start with.
It couldn’t do it!”

“Uh-huh,” John said. “Couldn’t do it, you’re right about that. Horse isn’t a machine. You
gotta
talk sweet to ’
em
.
Kinda
like a woman that way. You push ’
em
around,
you aren’t going to get a whole lot of cooperation. Maybe you should ask Kevin there for some lessons.”

“With horses, not with women,” Kevin clarified solemnly. “Or maybe ask Gabe. He might be able to help you out with both. He wins, oh, pretty much all the time, from what I’ve seen.”

Scott’s face got, if possible, even redder. His mouth opened and closed, and Cliff came forward hastily. “What are our points for this round?” he asked John.

“The full 15 points to Paradise, this time.”

“Which makes it Paradise by 10,” Cliff announced. “But don’t worry, Arcadia,” he went on, ignoring the still-furious Scott, who had gone over to stand near the other members of his homestead, none of whom looked especially welcoming. “The women’s challenge is worth the same 45 points. You’re not out of this yet.”

The margin was too narrow, Mira thought nervously. It all depended on what the challenge was. Rachel was
good,
Mira had seen that since Day One. And she wanted to win this game as much as Kevin did. If Arcadia won today, Rachel and Kevin were safe for another week. But if they lost . . . This wasn’t a must-win challenge for Rachel, but it was close.

“Guys, I know you’re tired,” Cliff went on, “so we’re not going to make you move.” The men had, in fact, settled down now onto the spectators’ benches and were sitting with elbows on knees or legs sprawled in front of them, resting after their labors.

Two young men appeared from the trees, leading a cow apiece. “That’s right,” Cliff said. “It’s going to be short and sweet.
A milking race.
As you know,
milking might have been done by either men or women out here
. And even if men did it most of the time, women had to take their turn when a man was unavailable for some reason. Which may or may not have been the case for all of you. So if you’ll come forward, the three of you . . .” He beckoned to the women.

“Rachel,” he said when they were standing before him. “As the only woman left on Arcadia, you’re obviously nominated. But to make this fair, we’re going to let you select your opponent. Mira or Zara. Your choice.”

Mira thought fast. Quickly schooled her face into a worried frown that was all too easy an expression to assume as Rachel looked sharply at her, then shifted her gaze to Zara.

Don’t pick me,
Mira attempted with all her might to project. She didn’t dare look to see Zara’s expression, but she was willing to bet it appeared less anxious than her own, even though Mira was the better
milker
. Zara hadn’t done it since their one lesson with Alma, but somehow, she always appeared confident anyway.

Mira saw Rachel’s face firm with
decision,
but wasn’t sure she’d convinced her until she heard the words.

“Mira,” Rachel announced. “I’m going up against Mira.”

Mira bit her lip, looked across at the cows uncertainly as they were led into place, tied to stakes driven into the ground in front of the spectators’ area.
If she could lull Rachel into complacency, so much the better.
In fact, it wasn’t too hard to act concerned. She’d only been milking the past few days. What if Rachel had been doing it all along? Maybe she, like Kevin, had an affinity for animals.

Stop it,
she commanded herself. She could only do what she could do. And right now, that meant milking a cow just as fast as she could.

“We’ve got two
Guernseys
for you here,” Cliff announced as Zara returned to the bench, leaving Mira and Rachel to approach the big brown animals. “Same breed you’re used to, and we’ve selected them specifically to match, to make this fair. They each give about the same amount of milk, and give it equally easily. Piece of cake, right?” he asked with a smile to which Mira responded with a nervous laugh that she didn’t have to fake.

“Mira,” he went on, “Since Rachel got the pick of opponents,
you
get the pick of cows. Which one do you want to milk?”

“This one,” Mira decided. She went to the cow on the right, who had turned to look at her with what Mira chose to think was a kindly eye, and laid a hand on her flank. “This is my cow.”

“All right, then.” Cliff nodded at the milking stool and pail already set next to the cows. “The winner is the one with the most milk at the end of twenty minutes. Simple.” He waited until they were both seated on their stools, with their buckets positioned under the udders. “And challenge is . . .
on!”

Mira shut all thought of Rachel out of her head. Put her head against the big, warm flank and tried to send calm and certainty into the hands that grasped the rubbery teats. To her relief, the cow was docile and good-natured, and let down her milk as easily as Gabe had joked about Bessie doing.

On and on she went, her fingers squeezing steadily, the milk squirting into the bucket. She focused on the rhythm, felt her hands tiring, and refused to slow down. When her mind began to spiral down into fear, the pain in her hands threatened to distract her, she began to sing in her head. The very first song they’d sung together, that first night. “Michael, Row the Boat Ashore.” She finished the last verse she remembered, started at the beginning again, milked to the rhythm, the upbeat tune reverberating in her head, mingling with the sound of the milk hitting the bucket.