The Brides of Chance Collection Part 40

"Are you going to need an extra hand, Paul?" Logan offered.

"Delilah and I'll manage just fine." She liked the way he said her name. Paul had a way of making ordinary things seem more beautiful than they really were.

And that's exactly why I have to be careful. A man like Paul could put a woman's head in the clouds, thinking fluffy dreams made castles. But come the next strong wind, they'd blow away and she'd be left with nothing. Better to enjoy what was than to put stock in dreams.

The next day, the women bustled over to the cabin Miriam and Gideon shared. Working as quickly as possible, they removed all clothing from the pegs as well as the small mirror hung above the dresser, baring the walls and taking anything they could from the room. They stored it all in Delilah's cabin, which she'd share with Miriam until the smell from the whitewash stopped lingering.

"There. That ought to do it." Miriam's p.r.o.nouncement came just in time as the brothers filed in, effectively crowding what had seemed a generous s.p.a.ce scant moments before.

"So you're finished?" Gideon gestured to the now-bare walls.

"We've taken everything we possibly could," Alisa confirmed.

"Would you look at that!" Bryce stood beside the small dresser. "They even took the drawers out!"

t.i.tus let loose an amused guffaw. Perplexed, Delilah looked at Paul, only to see him exchange grins with Logan.

"What's so funny?"

"Don't you women think that with all six of us, we could've moved it even with the drawers inside?" It was the first time Delilah saw Daniel smile without his daughters around.

"We knew you could handle it." Miriam put a hand on Alisa's back and steered her, spluttering, from the room. "It's better for the furniture this way. We'll just leave you to remove the heavy pieces."

Delilah followed, glad to see that everyone was comfortable enough with her around to act like a real family-tiffs, teasing, and all. Next thing she knew, she stood in the empty room next to Paul.

"Ever whitewashed before, Delilah?"

"No, but I know my way around a paintbrush." She thought of her precious paint set, safely tucked away in her cabin. Maybe she could start teaching Polly to sketch...if Daniel would let her and they had the time. But for now, there was work to be done.

"Have you?" She hoped he had. There were sure to be differences between watercolor strokes and wall painting.

"Long time ago. When I was a lad, Mama, my brothers, and I did the outside of our house."

His wistful smile twisted her heart. "That's the first time I've heard you mention your mother, aside from Sunday," Delilah said softly.

"Yeah, well, she was a wonderful woman-G.o.dly and loving and generous. She pa.s.sed on soon after we made Chance Ranch our home." He visibly straightened as he changed the topic. "First you stir it to make sure the color's blended." Looking up to make sure she was watching, he caught her smile before she could hide it.

"What?"

"Nothing. I was just thinking that's probably about how I look when I'm tending the stew." She needn't have worried he'd be offended.

He gave a grin. "Just about, but I'm nowhere near as pretty, and I hope you never have to try my cooking. I'll just leave it to you."

Warmth filled her cheeks at the compliment, so she turned away to pick up the large paintbrushes. "So we're just coating the walls, right?"

"Yep. No point in doing the floor white-it'd just get dirty faster. And we could do the ceiling, but it'd drip on the furniture." He gestured to the middle of the room, where they'd piled everything.

"So where do we start?" Suddenly the room looked immense.

"We each take a wall. You're going to want to paint along with the wood grain, side to side; otherwise it'll drip down and not look as nice as we want it."

"All right." Delilah dipped her brush and went to a wall. "Like this?"

"Not quite. You want to have a longer stroke." He held her elbow and guided her arm, sending tingles up and down her spine. She pulled away. "I see." To cover the awkwardness of the movement, she pointed to the top of the wall. "But I don't see how I'll manage to reach all the way up there."

"Don't expect you to. I'll get the highest parts. It'll probably be best for me to take care of that first, and then you follow." He grabbed a brush and got going.

Discomfited by his nearness, Delilah focused her entire concentration on the task at hand rather than on starting a conversation. What good would it do to learn more about him? He didn't complain when he broke his arm, loved his brothers, worked hard, spent time with his nieces, and spoke tenderly of his mother. He was a family man and obviously needed to find a wife who could give him as much as he gave to everyone else.

Why couldn't you do that? her heart whispered. She shook the thought away. It would never work. Sure, he was a wonderful man, but he was still just that-a man. If she let herself fall for him and marry him, he'd have the right to make her go anywhere he liked. She just couldn't take the risk.

Chapter 8.

The hours pa.s.sed in a deep silence Paul wasn't about to break. No whitewashing ever inspired a furrowed brow, so he stayed convinced Delilah was doing some deep thinking. He sure needed to.

It had been a mistake to touch her arm. Despite the long sleeve on her dress, his fingertips still sizzled at the memory of that contact. She'd felt it, too, since she'd abruptly pulled away, skittish as a frightened colt. Maybe she was thinking about what it meant. The question certainly plagued him.

Lord, why do I feel so deeply for this woman if it isn't Thy will? How can I help her see Thy hand in the beautiful things she loves? I understand why she's afraid to trust others, but not all of it. Please, Lord, give me the strength not to hand her my heart until she gives hers to Thee. And give us both the time we need.

They finished the last bare patch, and Delilah stepped back to survey their handiwork. "That went faster than I thought it would." She offered a tentative smile.

Grateful for the gesture, Paul grinned back. "Good company can conquer time."

As her cheeks turned pink for the second time that day, he decided her inability to accept a compliment only added to her charm.

To his surprise, she didn't busy herself with something.

"It's not often you can be around another person without having to fill the time with words," he observed.

"I know what you mean," she said softly.

His heart thumped as she agreed. This meant she was becoming more comfortable around him.

They gathered their brushes and walked out to the pump. She held the brushes under the water while he pumped. The hot and dusty day alone couldn't account for the dust cloud they spotted in the distance.

"That's odd. Miriam hasn't rung the dinner bell yet, and your brothers are already coming home. I hope everything's all right."

Paul wondered whether she remembered the day he'd broken his arm and worried for his brothers.

"Wait a minute. They wouldn't be coming from the east. Wonder what would bring someone out on a Sat.u.r.day?" He shaded his eyes and squinted as the wagon came closer. As soon as he realized the approaching horses carried the MacPherson brothers, he tried to get Delilah in the house. Why else would they come a day before they should for worship-unless they were coming courting.

"Delilah, why don't you go tell Miriam we might be having company for dinner?"

"All right." She cast one last look over her shoulder and headed for the kitchen.

Paul started walking out to meet them. Maybe he could find out what they needed and send them away without letting them so much as get a glimpse of Delilah.

Mike pulled up beside him. "Reckoned we was a mite late fer the doin's. Hadda hole smack dab in one o' the fences."

It took Paul a moment to realize they thought it was Sunday, and by then, Obie had chimed in.

"Yeah, and seein's how the gully-washer kept us away week afore today, we figgered we'uns best try an' come anyhow."

"Gentlemen," Paul interrupted, "I'm afraid there's been a mistake. You're a day early. Tomorrow is the Lord's Day." Maybe he could get them to turn around and go home before Miriam rang the dinner bell.

"Aw, you're joshin' us fer sh.o.r.e. Leave off cuttin' up." Hezzy guffawed, but Micah silently counted on his fingers.

"Naw, he ain't! Think on it, Hezekiah MacPherson." Micah glared at his older brother, who scratched his head in bewilderment.

"You're the only one as can cipher, Mike. I reckon ya musta messed up." It seemed as though Obie's well-meaning intervention hadn't helped.

"If 'n I done tole ya once, I tole ya agin an' agin. Ya mark the day off after dark! If 'n ya cross it off of a mornin', we end up a day ahead 'cause this one ain't o'er yet!"

Hezekiah had the grace to look abashed. "Sh.o.r.e am sorry, Mike. I done fergot agin."

Paul watched the brothers confer until he couldn't wait any longer to get them out of there. After all, once the dinner bell rang, it would be too late to get them to leave.

"Well, if it isn't the MacPherson brothers!" Paul winced as Miriam bustled up.

"Ma'am." Mike respectfully tipped his grimy hat, and his brothers mimicked the gesture.

"Why are you out in the hot sun? Dinner'll be on the table soon. Come on in."

"We don' wanna be botherin' ya, but we sh.o.r.e would be tickled to sample some of those fine vittles o' yourn, ma'am." The three of them beamed down at Miriam even as Paul quelled the urge to glare at all four of them.

What is she thinking? Paul watched helplessly as they all hopped out of the wagon and followed Miriam.

Delilah dropped the edge of the curtain as Miriam headed toward the house. She recognized the three men as ones they'd seen at the general store but didn't quite understand why Paul seemed so displeased to see them. Two were large bears of men, but the third stood shorter and had a wiry build. One thing was clear: They would be staying for dinner. Delilah quickly slid three more bowls on the table as Miriam rang the dinner bell. The men strode inside.

"Delilah, you may remember the MacPherson brothers: Obadiah, Hezekiah, and Micah," Miriam said in introduction.

Obie spoke up. "Back in Kentucky, we don' stand on ceremony. We's just plain Obie, Hezzy, and Mike."

"He's got the right of it," Hezzy added. "Don't make a lick o' sense to call us all *Mr. MacPherson.' "

"Right nice to make your aquaintanceship, miss." Mike bowed over her hand.

"Aw, wouldja look at the jack-a-dandy come a-courtin'," one of the older brothers crowed.

"Hush your face, Obie," Hezzy whispered loudly as he elbowed his brother.

"Pleasure to meet you," Delilah greeted them, amused rather than appalled by their manners. They seemed well-meaning enough, after all. She didn't like the reference to courting, but the thought that this was the reason Paul seemed so put out lifted her spirits.

"What're you doin' here?" Daniel growled as he stepped up to the washbasin.

Delilah was relieved to see that the MacPhersons didn't seem to take offense at Daniel's curt tone.

"We swapped days, I reckon," Obie explained, then seemed struck by an unwelcome thought. He turned to Mike, clearly the brains of the family. "We kin still come tomorra, right?"

Hezzy's face fell at that, and the pair of them looked for all the world like children about to be denied a treat.

Mike nodded. "We still gotta honor the Lord's Day."

The older brothers broke out in matching grins. As Paul scowled at the blue willow plate Miriam loaded with biscuits, Delilah bit back a smile of her own.

Chapter 9.

Everyone began jockeying for a seat. Paul noticed the MacPherson brothers hovering around the table as though waiting for Delilah to sit down so they could swoop in beside her.

His eyes narrowed. Over his dead body would they get any closer to her than absolutely necessary. He plunked down toward the end of the bench and snagged Delilah as she leaned over to put another batch of biscuits on the table. The second he was certain he had a hold of her, he hooked his boot around her foot to make her stumble right onto the seat beside him.

"Oh! Sorry, I must've tripped." She made as if to get up, but he didn't let go of her arm.

"I've never known you to be clumsy. You'd best stay seated-sometimes the smell from the whitewash can make a person lightheaded."

"Just stay put, Delilah," Miriam said with a slight wink toward Paul. "We're just about done anyway."

Maybe Miriam was trying to make amends for inviting the MacPhersons to lunch. Whatever the reason, he'd be glad for any help she'd give him.

There was a brief tussle as Obie and Hezzy both tried to elbow their way to the end of the bench. Hezzy won and got there first. Fortunately, try as he might, he couldn't figure out a way to squeeze his large frame onto the half inch of bench peeking out by Delilah's skirts.

"Ahem." The big oaf cleared his throat. "I'd be much obliged if 'n ya could see your way clear ta scoochin' o'er a bit, miss. Don't much fancy perchin' like a jaybird durin' vittles."

His b.u.mbling manners coaxed a smile from Delilah as she obligingly began scooting over. Paul didn't move, which he found yielded double benefits: First, it stopped Hezzy from sitting down, and second, Delilah was now close enough that Paul could catch the scent of jasmine that lingered sweetly in her hair.

"If it's all the same to you, Hezzy, I'd appreciate it if you'd try the other bench. If we're packed tighter than a tin of sardines, my arm'll give me trouble." Paul avoided looking across the table at Daniel, who sat parked next to Obie already.

"Oh, how thoughtless of me!" Delilah interjected. "Paul's been working hard whitewashing, and it certainly won't help to have Logan jostling his arm today, too. Do you mind?"

Paul was gratified to hear the concern in her voice as she neatly made it impossible for Hezzy to refuse.

"Yes'm." Hezzy shuffled over to the other bench, where Polly obligingly bounced over toward her father. Hezzy hunkered down, and the bench gave an ominous creak.