well enough the McCoys didn’t have that kind of luck. No Irishman does. That’s when Mr. Bainum decided to fire up the pot-bellied stove.”
The doctor blotted the wound with an alcohol soaked pad, and Anna sucked in a breath. Her skin grew ashen. “Isn’t a fire in the barn, even in a stove, dangerous with all those dry husks lying around?”
“Old farmer Bainum took the risk.” Though he kept his voice even, Caleb battled the guilt swamping him. Seeing her in pain invoked a fury he’d never experienced before, along with a deep sense of tenderness. The two disparate emotions raged a battle within him. “Mr. Bainum stoked that stove until it burned hot. Soon enough, everybody took off their coats and rolled up their shirtsleeves. Everyone except Gus.”
A knowing smile stretched across her strained and pale face. “How long did he last with his coat on?”
Caleb’s stomach dipped. He shouldn’t be staring at her lips while talking about kisses. This was hardly the time or place for amorous thoughts. “Through two more kisses. Finally got too hot. Gus pulled off his coat, and six more red ears of corn fell out.”
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