like dead flowers crushed into the fresh turned dirt. He’d cushioned the deadline when he’d signed the contract, but with his brother, Aaron, being the only one working in the woodshop for the past three weeks, the padding had been jerked away hard and fast.
Fighting to remain hopeful, he pushed himself off the bed, his cracked ribs protesting with the movement. He inhaled sharply, digging his toes into the rag rug’s nubby texture.
His jaw ticked with instant irritation as a distant chorus of giggles wafted through his open window. It didn’t take much to conjure up the origin of the twittering noise. He could see it now…a cluster of bonneted women standing in front of the hotel. Lined up like flowers for the picking, just another batch of mail-order brides brought in to help populate the west.
It was downright demeaning, in his book, the way they’d set themselves on display like that.
When a knock sounded on his front door, he startled. Clad in just underclothes, he lurched forward, struggling for balance as he probed for the wall where his clothes were hung.
Ben’s strong urging that Joseph gradually ease back into life on his own whipped through his mind like a warning knell. But bandages over his eyes or not, Joseph was a twenty-seven-year-old man, and like a caged animal, he craved independence and freedom. Privacy.
“I’ll be right out,” he yelled after another knock sounded.
His fingertips brushed against sturdy cotton fabric and he sighed with relief. He pulled on his britches and boots, then shrugged into his shirtsleeves, although a new level of frustration assaulted him as he intently focused on lining up the five wooden buttons with buttonholes.
Eight years ago he’d built his own home, but now he could barely dress himself. He shuffled out of the bedroom, galled at having to give such simple routines a second thought. Groping along the wall, his breathing grew shallow as each awkward step echoed over the hardwood floor—a mocking reminder of his vulnerable state.
When his leg knocked hard into something, Joseph flinched, reaching down to steady the imposing piece of furniture. His hands careened into the small table and tipped it over, sending a loud bang reverberating throughout the quiet house.
“Joseph? Are you all right?” Ben rapped at his door again.
He stooped to right the piece. “I’ll be right there,” he shot back through tightly clenched teeth.
Hands quivering, he felt the satin-smooth finish. He’d always prided himself in this well-known trademark, but now he wondered if he’d ever be able to resume his profession.
And his plans to marry and have a family… None of that was certain now. If his vision didn’t return, there was no way he’d saddle any young woman to life with a blind man.
Humiliation cloaked him soundly and offending images of himself stumbling through life alone and without sight intensified his bad mood.
When Joseph finally reached the front door, he fumbled for the handle, then eased it open. A gust of fresh air hit him square in the face, reminding him just how long he’d been down.
“Mornin’, Joseph!” Ben clapped him on the arm. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurry you, but you said you didn’t want me barging in anymore, but then when I heard…” Ben’s voice trailed off. “I see you made it up and about.”
“Were you expecting something else?” Joseph retorted.
“Not exactly, I guess.”
Joseph tried to push aside his sour mood as he caught the rumble of a buckboard rolling slowly by in front of his house. “What brings you over? I thought you gave me a clean bill of health yesterday.” Sliding a hand up the front of his shirt, he checked for misaligned buttons.
“How are the ribs? Are they giving you much trouble?”
“I feel fine,” he lied, ignoring the constant dull ache and the comment he could swear he overheard from inside the wagon, regarding his bandages. His accident had probably been the talk of the town for the past three weeks.
“Well, your color is better. Not bad for a man who’s been through what you have. Are you sure you’re feeling strong enough to tackle things today?”
“I said I’m fine.” Joseph furrowed his brow. “But if I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were expecting me to trek up the Flatirons with you. That’s not likely to happen.”
“Believe me, a quiet day in the mountains sounds great after visiting with ol’ Donovan Grimes. The fellow’s hearing must be just about gone, the way he shouts. My ears are still ringing.” Ben shifted his booted feet on the porch floor. “By the way, Aaron said that Ellie had planned to bring dinner tonight, but she’s not feeling well. I’m going to check in on her after this.”
Joseph grew immediately concerned for his sister-in-law. She was having a difficult time of this first pregnancy and he knew it weighed on his younger brother Aaron. Especially now that he was carrying double the load in the woodshop with Joseph being laid up.
“Tell you what, I’ll just have the hotel diner make you up a plate and deliver it to you. How’s that sound?”
Joseph balled his fists. “I said yesterday that I’d take it from here.”
“I’d accept the help if I were you,” Ben urged. “Soon enough you’ll be begging us to have a little pity on you and bring over some good, home-cooked meals again.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stepping outside, he closed the door behind him so Ben wouldn’t get any ideas of staying for a visit.
Ben cleared his throat, a trait Joseph had begun to recognize over the past three weeks as a nervous gesture. “Remember when we talked, shortly after your fall, about getting you training in case you don’t—”
“Whoa. Whoa.” He swiped beads of perspiration forming on his brow. “We talked? I think you mean you talked. I didn’t agree to anything.”
“I know how adamant you are about being independent—I want that for you, too. But you’ll get there quicker with training,” Ben finished as though racing to get it out.
Gritting his teeth, Joseph plastered himself against the door. He’d prove to his older brother that he could make it on his own, but he couldn’t even seem to move his feet enough to turn and stalk back inside. Truth be told, he was scared to death to take a step forward into the darkness.
And he’d never been afraid of anything.
“What are you getting at, Ben?” A bout of light-headedness assaulted him and he struggled to keep his balance as he stood to his full six foot, three inches. “What’s going on?”
Ben sighed. “Promise me you’ll hear me out before you go jumping down my throat, all right?”
“I’m not promising you anything.” Joseph tightened his fists. “Just tell me what you did. Now!”
“I—I arranged for a teacher to come out from Iowa.”
“You did what?”
“I arranged for a teacher to help you,” Ben declared
