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Authors: Kate Bridges
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Donald’s mules any time I need them.”
He’d sold them so that Pa could keep his gentle mares. Tom’s secret credit note at the bank had gotten Quaid his new shipment of instruments, but Tom hadn’t wanted to borrow too much. Fortunately, he still had his three best horses, and when he dug out of this financial mess, he’d be able to buy the others back.
He felt a movement beside his boot and looked down. Wolf was digging a deep hole.
“Stop that,” Tom reprimanded. “If someone falls in that hole, they could twist their ankle. Go chase a squirrel.” After a friendly pat on the head, the dog bouncedaway, but Amanda frowned at his gruffness. When he ignored her, she left. Good. He gently slapped the rear of one of the mules to start it walking in a circle, then adjusted his big leather work gloves.
He admitted, being divorced wasn’t a thing most people would brag about, but why hide who you are?
He knew of only three people who’d ever been divorced; none in this town. One older gent back in Toronto who was an alcoholic, one young miner in the Rockies whose poor wife couldn’t take any more beatings, and a tourist passing through last summer whose wife had caught him with his third mistress.
It was common knowledge that more women were divorced in the West than the East. Women were scarcer here, so if their husbands mistreated them in any way, they divorced, taking their children and quickly remarrying—to one of many men in the West grateful for the company and partnership of a woman. But that’s not what had happened to Amanda.
From what Graham had said, it was Amanda’s husband who’d divorced her. Graham hadn’t uncovered the circumstances, and Tom had stopped Amanda’s investigation. No sense asking Graham to uncover more about a woman Tom didn’t care for. Besides, it was bordering on prying, and he still had his code of honor.
While Donald tended to the mules and gave them water, Tom cleared brush beside his father, who was creating a garden for the women. Pa was in a jovial mood this morning, causing Tom to brighten.
“Sure is nice today,” Pa said. “The blackflies are gone, and the sun is warm.”
Squinting in the warm rays, Tom gazed up at the hills. The landscape quivered in the wind, with a dozen hues of green. The soft yellow-green of fresh grass, the brilliantgreen of unfolding maple leaves, and the blue-green growth of spruce needles. Blue jays and cardinals rustled through the woods, and insects hummed above his head. The earthy scent was intoxicating.
Tom blurted affectionately, “Pa, why don’t you come live with me?”
The old man took off his straw hat and fanned the air. “Go on now. Come live with you and Clarissa? You know me and her don’t see eye to eye. Why, she’d have my things packed and bundled by the door before I got back from the privy.”
Lifting his shovel, Tom flipped a furrow of dirt. The hard muscles of his biceps tightened. “Clarissa’s not going to be around.”
“Whaddya mean?”
“She’s gone to visit family for the summer.”
“For good?”
“For the summer.”
“What does that mean? Are you two over?”
Tom stopped digging to catch his breath. “Yeah, I guess we are.” Saying it out loud made it seem final. It was final.
Pa kept shoveling, surprising Tom with his endurance. “I’m not helpless, no matter what your brothers think. I’ll live alone until I can no longer put my pants on by myself.”
Tom sighed. When the mules finished uprooting the first stump, Tom and Donald hitched them to the second. It was hard, physical work, and Tom was reminded of Clarissa’s asking, Why don’t you become the doctor or lawyer? Why do you do it all for your brothers? Why do you choose such difficult labor?
Because I feel like a trapped rabbit inside the walls of any office. I like fresh air and miles of wilderness, he’d told her, but obviously, she hadn’t been impressed.
Tom stepped beside his father. “How are your new
He’d sold them so that Pa could keep his gentle mares. Tom’s secret credit note at the bank had gotten Quaid his new shipment of instruments, but Tom hadn’t wanted to borrow too much. Fortunately, he still had his three best horses, and when he dug out of this financial mess, he’d be able to buy the others back.
He felt a movement beside his boot and looked down. Wolf was digging a deep hole.
“Stop that,” Tom reprimanded. “If someone falls in that hole, they could twist their ankle. Go chase a squirrel.” After a friendly pat on the head, the dog bouncedaway, but Amanda frowned at his gruffness. When he ignored her, she left. Good. He gently slapped the rear of one of the mules to start it walking in a circle, then adjusted his big leather work gloves.
He admitted, being divorced wasn’t a thing most people would brag about, but why hide who you are?
He knew of only three people who’d ever been divorced; none in this town. One older gent back in Toronto who was an alcoholic, one young miner in the Rockies whose poor wife couldn’t take any more beatings, and a tourist passing through last summer whose wife had caught him with his third mistress.
It was common knowledge that more women were divorced in the West than the East. Women were scarcer here, so if their husbands mistreated them in any way, they divorced, taking their children and quickly remarrying—to one of many men in the West grateful for the company and partnership of a woman. But that’s not what had happened to Amanda.
From what Graham had said, it was Amanda’s husband who’d divorced her. Graham hadn’t uncovered the circumstances, and Tom had stopped Amanda’s investigation. No sense asking Graham to uncover more about a woman Tom didn’t care for. Besides, it was bordering on prying, and he still had his code of honor.
While Donald tended to the mules and gave them water, Tom cleared brush beside his father, who was creating a garden for the women. Pa was in a jovial mood this morning, causing Tom to brighten.
“Sure is nice today,” Pa said. “The blackflies are gone, and the sun is warm.”
Squinting in the warm rays, Tom gazed up at the hills. The landscape quivered in the wind, with a dozen hues of green. The soft yellow-green of fresh grass, the brilliantgreen of unfolding maple leaves, and the blue-green growth of spruce needles. Blue jays and cardinals rustled through the woods, and insects hummed above his head. The earthy scent was intoxicating.
Tom blurted affectionately, “Pa, why don’t you come live with me?”
The old man took off his straw hat and fanned the air. “Go on now. Come live with you and Clarissa? You know me and her don’t see eye to eye. Why, she’d have my things packed and bundled by the door before I got back from the privy.”
Lifting his shovel, Tom flipped a furrow of dirt. The hard muscles of his biceps tightened. “Clarissa’s not going to be around.”
“Whaddya mean?”
“She’s gone to visit family for the summer.”
“For good?”
“For the summer.”
“What does that mean? Are you two over?”
Tom stopped digging to catch his breath. “Yeah, I guess we are.” Saying it out loud made it seem final. It was final.
Pa kept shoveling, surprising Tom with his endurance. “I’m not helpless, no matter what your brothers think. I’ll live alone until I can no longer put my pants on by myself.”
Tom sighed. When the mules finished uprooting the first stump, Tom and Donald hitched them to the second. It was hard, physical work, and Tom was reminded of Clarissa’s asking, Why don’t you become the doctor or lawyer? Why do you do it all for your brothers? Why do you choose such difficult labor?
Because I feel like a trapped rabbit inside the walls of any office. I like fresh air and miles of wilderness, he’d told her, but obviously, she hadn’t been impressed.
Tom stepped beside his father. “How are your new
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