fact that he couldn’t be of more help. Thank goodness she’d found the walking stick for him, at least he could get around a little better now. Even though his foot throbbed enough to make his teeth ache, the renewed mobility made him feel a little more in control of the situation.
While she swept and cleaned he hobbled around, determined to do what he could. He shoved the heavier bits out of her way, gathered up whatever scraps of wood he could find to stack by the fireplace and tossed some of the rest of the junk in a far corner. The woodpile grew surprisingly large and while he hoped they wouldn’t be here long enough to need it all, his gut told him that there was a good chance they would be.
Not that he had any intention of letting Miss Lassiter see his concern. He wasn’t sure how she would feel about being trapped out here for an extended period and he didn’t relish the idea of having a hysterical female on his hands on top of everything else.
As the minutes ticked away, however, her energy and continued positive attitude surprised him. He hadn’t noticed her being this industrious back at the boardinghouse. Her fervor with the broom coupled with the sodden, muddy hem of her skirt and damp, disheveled hair should have given her the appearance of a scullery maid.
But somehow it didn’t.
He wasn’t sure if it was the cheery smile she wore, or her soft humming as she worked or something that went deeper, but she looked both softer and more competent than before.
She kicked up enough dust with her efforts to set them both to sneezing, but she maintained her good humor, treating it more as a game than a chore. In short order she had the area in front of the hearth as clean as she could make it given the tools on hand.
Finally setting aside her broom, she fetched the blanket and spread it in front of the fireplace. “There now, why don’t you sit and rest that foot of yours?”
That did sound good. “Ladies first.”
Rather than showing appreciation for his manners, she looked exasperated. “Oh for goodness sake, this isn’t Cora Beth’s parlor. Given the situation, I think we can put those sort of niceties aside.”
He clenched his jaw. Didn’t she realize that, “given the situation,” they should make every effort to maintain whatever decorum they could? “Good manners are always in order, no matter the circumstances.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “You know what I mean. You’re hurt and I’ve got berries to collect. Now, do you need help getting situated before I head back out?”
Her question set his teeth on edge. He wasn’t entirely helpless. “I’ll manage.”
She studied him uncertainly. “Your foot—”
“Is better off inside my boot where the pressure will keep the swelling down.”
“But what if it’s a break?”
“It’s not.” And even if it was, there was nothing she could do about it.
She nodded, then looked around. “Now, what can I put the berries in?”
“Are you sure you want to do that now? The rain hasn’t slacked off yet.”
She shrugged and gave him a playful smile. “I’d rather be wet than hungry.”
He started to point out that they had other things to eat, but then decided there was no point. Her mind seemed to be made up. “In that case I think the hamper is probably our best bet.”
“Of course.” She knelt and quickly emptied the contents. Reaching for the hat and coat, she nodded toward the blanket. “Set yourself down and I’ll be back in no time.”
“I’m coming with you.”
She paused with one arm in a coat sleeve and one not. “I can handle this. You should get off that foot—”
He ignored her protest. “It doesn’t take legs to pick berries. And, since I’ll be sharing in the fruits, literally, I should also share in the labor.” He grabbed up the hamper, tightened his grip on his cane and headed for the door. She could follow or not as she liked.
A heartbeat later he heard her scurrying to catch up. “You are one of the stubbornest men I’ve ever come across. And if you’d met my brothers you’d know that was saying something.” She flounced past him, pushed the door open, then turned back to face him. “You stand here with the hamper and I’ll pick the berries.” Before he could argue she held up a hand. “You’re almost dry so no point in getting yourself soaked again. Besides, if you insist on going out there I’ll feel obliged to give you back your coat and hat and how gentlemanly of you would that be?”
Speak of stubborn! He stared at the downpour. “Perhaps we should just wait to see if this lets up soon.”
“It’s not coming down quite as hard as it was earlier. And what if it doesn’t stop? I’d just as soon get to it while I’m still wet. Once I get dry I’m not going to be quite so eager to step outside again.”
He supposed that made sense. But the woman was never going to dry out at this rate.
Without waiting for his response, she drew the collar of his jacket up higher and stepped out into the storm.
Several minutes later, as she dumped yet another handful of berries in the hamper, he took her wrist and drew her out of the rain. “Time to come back inside. We have plenty enough to hold us for a while.”
As if not quite trusting him, she peered into the hamper. “I suppose that’ll do for now.”
Eli turned, glad that he could finally get off his feet. He hadn’t taken more than two steps, though, when he realized she’d stepped back out in the rain. What was she up to now?
Ignoring the throbbing in his foot, he set the hamper on the floor and limped back toward the door. “Miss Lassiter?”
“I’ll be there in a minute.” Her voice was muffled but he could tell she hadn’t gone far.
It was several long minutes later before she reappeared inside the doorway. Not surprisingly, she wasn’t empty-handed.
“Look what I found,” she said nodding to the four large pieces of firewood and two stout sticks in her arms. “There’s a chopping block out back. There’s more but the other pieces hadn’t been split yet and they were too heavy to carry. Anyway, I thought these might come in handy for the fire.”
Hadn’t she seen the small pile he’d stacked by the fireplace? Or, like him, was she worried about how long they’d be stranded here? “It was a good thought, but these pieces are soaking wet.”
“I know, but if we place the pieces just inside the fireplace around the fire, they’ll dry out faster. Then if we get down to where we need them, we’ll have a better shot at getting them to burn.”
While she crossed the room with her burden, he followed more slowly with the hamper. The woman had a sensible head on her shoulders after all, it seemed. Had he been wrong about her in other ways?
Once she’d arranged the damp wood to her satisfaction, Miss Lassiter stood and rolled her shoulders. Then she shed the garments he’d loaned her and hung them
