Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 47222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
“Hey, what are you doing?” I gasp. “These table and chairs belonged to my great grandma!”
He shrugs, blue eyes calm.
“Then they need to properly fixed-up, so they can belong to your great-granddaughter,” he tells me matter-of-factly. Outside from the yard, we hear Miss Bethy’s plaintive low to be milked.
Ranger shakes his head. “Darcy. I know it was kind of you to make us breakfast, but the cow hasn’t been milked yet and it’s nearing eight o’clock. And after you came out of the hen house, I went in to check on them, because they were making a fuss. You’re losing chickens.”
“How on earth would you know that?” I demand incredulously, even though I know he’s right.
“Because there’s a small hole in the back of the coop fence where three of them tried to escape while I was in there.”
I sigh. He’s right, chickens have been disappearing lately. I had been blaming an errant predator, but I couldn’t hide behind that fib anymore. There doesn’t seem to be anything that escapes this mysterious man’s vibrant blue eyes.
“And tell me. How on earth do you expect to harvest the crops when the tractor is clear broke? You’re only one person.”
Completely humiliated by my lack of resources, I lower my head and feel my eyes brimming up with tears. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to fix the tractor and I can’t afford to have someone come look at it. I was just going to deal with it when the time came.”
He lifts my chin gently so that I’m forced to look at him. “Darcy. We both know that’s not how farming works. You have to stay on top of things, otherwise the entire farm will collapse.”
“I’m trying. I’m doing my best.” I sniffle.
“I can help you. If you will let me help you.”
A single tear slides down my cheek as I nod ‘yes.’ Ranger nods along with me, and wipes my tear with his thumb.
“I can’t afford to pay you.” I’m mortified by the admission, but he has to know the truth. “But I can let you stay here, in one of the bedrooms. And I can feed you, since I eat most everything that grows on the farm anyway. Minus the meat,” I add.
Ranger nods, his azure gaze thoughtful. “That’s how it works at most ranches I work at, so I’m used to this kind of arrangement.” He shoots me a smile. “I usually do get paid a little, but you’ve been nothing but good to me, and I want to return the favor. I want to help you get this place back up and running properly.”
I hesitate. Is it fair to accept his assistance, if I can’t pay him? I don’t want to be a slave driver, or to take advantage of anyone. After all, I was forced into a type of indentured labor when I was traveling through Europe a couple years back, and I would never force that on anyone else.
But Ranger seems to sense my uncertainty. “Look, let’s just agree to a week. A week and I’ll do whatever odd jobs you need done. Help fix things up, put the tractor back in gear, make sure your sickles and axes are up to snuff, too. Whatever you know needs fixin’ and maybe whatever I might notice that looks like it needs some loving.”
He takes my hand again and its warmth startles me. “It’s the least I can do, after you saved my life.”
I contemplate his offer. Ranger squeezes his grip ever so slightly, his blue gaze direct.
“It’s just a week Darcy. Then I’ll head on to the next place.”
I’m not sure if it’s the closeness of this man’s body to my own or the very real need for help, but I find myself agreeing to his proposal.
“Okay, yes. A week. I’d be most grateful, Mr. McLeod.”
Ranger smiles and I know I’ve made the right decision. And it’s not just because his smile makes my insides turn to mush, but it’s because I really do need someone to help get things back to working order. The tractor is a problem for future months, but the daily weeding and threshing has been made nearly impossible without functioning tools.
After all, I’m the only person at the farm at the moment, and I honestly can’t even remember the last time someone offered to help. I’m weary to my very bones, and a week of someone like Ranger helping me out is bound to make a difference.
Abashed from our conversation, I finish my breakfast quietly and quickly. In a way, it’s as if I want to prove to Ranger that I not only know what I’m doing, but that I have just as much get up and go as him.
For the rest of the morning, we fall into an easy rhythm: Ranger fixes posts, realigns doors, and tinkers with tractor, as I feed the animals, repair the hole in the chicken coop, and weed the garden.