Chapter 35
W hen Lenore’s phone made the bubbling, crackling sound, her heart dropped into the soles of her boots.
Brandon.
She already knew what he wanted. Even if she ran inside right now, put on the only dress she owned—the same one she’d worn to church every Sunday for the past month—and drove with the gas pedal to the metal, she still wouldn’t make it to church on time.
His text read: You’re not coming to church today?
She’d texted him an hour ago, when it still made sense for her to be awake and him not to be. She just didn’t want to go to church today, for a variety of reasons.
But now, her thumbs flew across the screen. I managed to get the skid steer yesterday about noon, she said. Remember? I sent you that picture. Anyway, because the hardware store isn’t open on Sunday, I basically get a day free. I want to utilize it to the best of my ability.
He, of course, could work twice as fast as she could in the skid steer. But that didn’t need to be said out loud for both of them to know it was true.
All right, he said. I miss you. As soon as Dawson hears if they’re coming home today or not, I’ll let you know.
Okay, Lenore said. Miss you too.
She tucked her phone in her back pocket and faced the yawning sky. “He doesn’t have to know all of your insecurities upfront,” she told herself, though part of the reason she didn’t want to go to church today was because she had to wear the same dress again .
He’d say no one cared and no one but her paid attention to what she wore, but Lenore was a woman, and she knew other women noticed. And judged.
She also couldn’t imagine making that drive by herself, then walking in alone, though she’d hated every moment of the past few days since Brandon had left to go help his brother.
Loneliness followed her like a phantom now, and she found herself looking over to his cabin more often than not, almost expecting him to show up laughing about how he was a little late or how Dumpling blocked the way and wouldn’t let him come to work until he’d been fed a second breakfast.
The thought of Brandon and his cat made her smile as she walked toward the skid steer. He’d brought up what would happen after the job ended, and she hadn’t had an answer for him. She hadn’t stopped thinking about it either, but she still didn’t know what to do.
She’d never imagined she’d have any romantic feelings for the person who’d seen her at her absolute lowest and had to dig through the mire of what the homestead had become.
She had no handbook for this kind of thing. Her parents had been married for ten years before they’d moved here with her grandparents, and subsequently bought the homestead from them.
What should I do? she wondered, keeping the words contained inside her own mind. She’d asked several times, hoping something wise her mother or grandmother had said in the past would come forward. Perhaps God would tell her what to do.
No one had yet, and Lenore patted her pocket for the skid steer keys. When she found she had them, she headed for the machine. She might as well do the work she told Brandon she was going to. After all, she didn’t want to be a liar on top of insecure and indecisive.
Tuesday morning found Lenore gathering her eggs as usual and checking the gate every five seconds as if Brandon would drive through it before eight a.m. Of course, he wouldn’t. He probably wasn’t even up yet, and an irritated scoff fell out of Lenore’s mouth.
Dawson and Caroline had not brought their new baby boy home until yesterday afternoon, and Brandon had called her to ask what he should do.
“Whatever you want,” she’d said, completely unaccustomed to having to give her opinion to another person.
Her opinion was that he return to the homestead as soon as possible, but he’d decided to stay and cuddle his new nephew. Dawson had named his new son Bronco, and that fit perfectly with Colt.
But she’d wanted Brandon back on the homestead with her. Then she wouldn’t have to spend another night alone in her cabin. They could hit the ground running that morning. As it was, she only got him for three and a half more weeks. It felt like every minute mattered.
But it didn’t matter. He’d stayed, and he’d get here when he got here.
She finished with the eggs, cartoning them into the orders that would get picked up tomorrow.
Lenore sometimes arranged to meet her buyers somewhere, but she’d explained that for the next few weeks while she had Brandon with her, she would not be able to make any trips to town.
Thankfully, everyone had agreed to come pick up their orders.
She didn’t have much else to sell this month, unless she could somehow rent Calvin’s planer again. But her water catchment tank was full, thanks to a few more storms in the past couple of weeks.
In these milder winter months, she now had enough to water her strawberry plants, everything in her greenhouse, and her chickens without having to buy water at the store. She only had to do that for her drinking water, so that bill had been reduced significantly.
A flash of gratitude moved through Lenore.
She took a moment to turn in a full circle and look around at the massive amount of progress that had been made on the homestead: the fully functional and beautiful barn, the well-organized array of supplies and equipment she could choose from for any project she needed to do, cataloged and easy to find.
The chicken palace, the solar panels, the greenhouse, the fully stocked woodpile, which stood literal steps from her back door.
The wagon hoop beds and the cleared land beyond where she could plant more in the spring. The wind-breaking garden storage sheds, the tire planters, and the mobile mini-coops, which brought such joy to Lenore’s heart every time she looked at them.
The land behind the livestock enclosures, which she’d sketched out to be the planting grounds for the pumpkins and alfalfa. The partially completed goat enclosure that Brandon would be sure to finish before he left. The waiting turkey enclosure.
With her savings, she planned to add to her livestock before Brandon’s deadline arrived.
So she pushed the worry away, because if she had animals, and meat, and crops, and honey, and eggs, she’d have enough to buy the water to keep the homestead alive.
But….
“Everything would be easier with a well.” Lenore felt like she was in a chicken-or-egg situation. Which came first?
She hadn’t been to the bank, because she had nothing to show them for consistent income. No. She’d decided to try to earn more from the homestead, save, and fund things herself.
She turned to the sound of a loud, rumbling engine, pure excitement bounding to the top of her skull and bringing a smile to her face. That quickly dropped off when she saw the truck entering her property did not belong to, nor was driven by, Brandon.
Instead, an enormous industrial truck seemed to breathe fire over the land as it entered, the width and breadth of it making it a hulking giant in a place that should be serene.
She recognized the long arm tucked into the top, as well as the logo on the side, and a frown settled over her face and deep down into her soul.
What in the world was the well-drilling truck doing here?
Two men rode in the cab, and the driver came right up on her. His partner handed him a clipboard, and he got out of the truck using a set of steps on the side to do so.
“Howdy,” he said.
Lenore wasn’t sure if she should demand he leave or say hello. Since she was Texan, she said, “Good morning.”
Then, “What are you doing here?”
“I got an order for a Brandon Rhinehart,” he said. “This his place?” He looked down at the clipboard while the earth disappeared completely beneath Lenore’s feet.
No. No, this was not “his place.”
“I reckon this is it,” the man continued.
“Put it in my GPS and all.” He looked up, his demeanor changing when he saw Lenore’s face.
She wasn’t sure what she was broadcasting, but if it was anything like the poisonous, angry feeling coiling inside her, the man would probably get in his truck and leave without her asking.
“Is Brandon here?” he asked, his voice a touch more guarded.
“No,” Lenore bit out. “This is not his place.”
“Oh,” the man said. “Maybe you help me find it.”
Lenore could not believe that this was happening. Brandon had said nothing about the well-drilling truck coming today, and Lenore disliked surprises as much as she did men laying claim to her land.
A horn blared behind them. Several times, as someone really pumped on it.
The man—Kenneth was the name stitched into his shirt—turned, and Lenore stepped out to the side of the enormous truck to see Brandon’s pull-up alongside it.
He barely came to a stop before he launched himself out of the cab. “Hey, you guys really mean it when you say you’ll be there bright and early.” He shot a look at Lenore and then moved to shake Kenneth’s hand.
“You Brandon?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Brandon said. “You found the place okay?”
Lenore’s brain boiled. She could not believe he was claiming her homestead .
Kenneth looked at her and then back to him. “Yeah, we found it.”
Brandon looked at Lenore too. She honestly felt like crying—not because she was overwhelmed or sad. No, these tears would be borne of pure anger.
Brandon’s expression pleaded with her. He, at least, knew she was not happy. But he turned to Kenneth anyway.
“My sister-in-law told me you could help us determine the best place for a well. I’m afraid we don’t really know much about it out here.”
He flashed Lenore a look that didn’t stick, though she’d heard him throw Zona under the bus loud and clear. This absolutely could’ve been Zona’s idea. She’d wanted to drill a well for months now.
“Let us consult our maps,” Kenneth said, shooting Lenore another look. “We’ve got some equipment we use as well. Gives us a good idea of where to start.”
“Okay, great,” Brandon said.
“I just need one of you to sign that we can go ahead and do this.” Kenneth looked at the clipboard but didn’t move it toward Brandon or Lenore, staying in completely neutral territory.
After a couple of long seconds where Lenore stood as still as a statue, Brandon snatched the clipboard and said, “I’ll get this back to you.”
Then he took the three steps to Lenore, linked his arm through hers—which whipped her around—and said, “Walk with me.”
“I don’t want to walk with you,” Lenore hissed, trying to pull her arm away. “How dare you order a drill truck?”
“I didn’t,” Brandon said. “Arizona did.” He glared at her out of the corner of his eye. “But you need this, so I’m not upset about it.”
“Well, I am.”
“It’s not charity,” he said over the top of her.
“You’re going pay her back.” He stopped moving, having put enough distance between them and the drill operators to have a little bit of privacy.
He glanced that way, and then moved toward the greenhouse, further sheltering them around the corner of the cabin.
“Fine. I asked her to schedule the truck,” he said. “After having the most fabulous hot shower at Dawson’s house that I’ve ever had. I just want that for you, Lenny.” He wore that pleading expression again.
“You want it for me,” she asked, refusing to let her heart melt at his puppy dog eyes, strong jaw, and sexy beard. “Or for yourself?”
“For both of us,” he said.
“This is not your land,” Lenore said, edging in closer to him. “How dare you put your name on it and say this is your place?”
“Lenore.” He sounded tired. “I’m not trying to take your land from you.”
“It’s what it feels like,” she said. “You and Zona are always doing what you want, even when it’s not what I want. This is my land, Brandon, and I get to decide.”
He looked at her for a long moment. Then two or three layers of hardness moved over his face, shuttering off his emotions. “You’re right,” he said, in a hard tone that held a river of anger just beneath it. “You get to decide.”
He thrust the clipboard toward her. “But you better do it quickly, because if you’re not going to let them drill today, I’m sure they have other customers who will.”
He turned and started to walk away.
Lenore’s heart yelled at her to get him to come back. She ignored it. He had crossed the line. She was tired of bending to him and Zona. “Where are you going?”
“I need to get Dumpling out of the truck,” he called without looking at her. “He was really grumpy that we got up so early.”