Chapter Fourteen
Slipping into a simple brown dress for the first day of harvest reaping, Josie noticed in the mirror how her body had changed—the once-loose fabric now clung to her hips.
After two weeks with the Blythes, a small bump appeared through her tight waistline.
Panic gripped her as her heart pounded in her chest. Too late. You must face your consequences.
Travis may not notice the weight gain now—let alone anything about her—but Aunt Polly’s observant eyes were another matter entirely. Josie couldn’t let the woman know her secret, not until after she confessed to Travis.
Josie grabbed her gray shawl and pulled it around her, desperate to hide her form.
For now, it would help distract any curious eyes, especially with Aunt Polly’s medical knowledge.
Josie had always been slim, and her bump took time to appear in past pregnancies.
She glanced down at her round belly, pressing her palm underneath.
At just over four months along, she was nearly as far as she had been in her second pregnancy.
The longest she had carried was five months, and she had been slightly larger than this.
Josie turned away from the mirror, clenching her shawl.
She needed to stop dwelling in the past and focus on her future.
Her future depended on her honesty, and she clung to it as her only chance now.
She might lose Travis’s respect, but could she win it back by confessing?
Josie sucked in a breath. Lord, please give me strength.
She minced towards the window and peered out again, observing Travis and Aunt Polly cutting the stalks.
With each swish of their blades, the wheat tumbled.
Travis set down his scythe, gathered the cut stalks, and loaded them into the wheelbarrow.
Anxious to prove herself as a hard-working and capable farmer’s wife, Josie pulled her waist-length hair over her shoulder and began braiding.
That morning, Josie had woken at the crack of dawn to make breakfast and get the children ready, leaving no time to ready herself. She could have woken earlier with her dress on and hair brushed, but she had grown tired, hardly getting a wink of sleep with her body aches and Gideon’s crying.
Josie braided faster, her heart sinking at the sight of Ivy greeting Travis with the barrow.
So much for a farmer’s wife. Why did she have to be so late?
Josie closed her eyes for a moment, envisioning her younger self, picking cotton, weeding gardens, chopping down trees, and cooking whatever she could to feed what was left of her household.
Those days were about survival. Josie opened her eyes and rolled her shoulders back, tossing her braid behind her.
She would remember and put herself in that sixteen-year-old girl’s shoes again.
Josie paced out the back door and headed to the fields, where she spotted Lillian running towards her. Jonas and Ivy chased each other around the wheat piles while Gideon sat, playing with a rattle.
“Josie!” she called before taking her hand. “Come on!”
Travis set down his scythe, wiped his face with his sleeve, and strode toward Josie. She had barely seen him that morning, exchanging only a quick hello and goodbye when he grabbed a biscuit from the pan before heading to the fields. Josie quickly untied her shawl to cover her midsection.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, heat crawling up her neck.
“Don’t apologize,” Travis insisted. “You have the children and a home to care for. I can’t ask you to put everything aside and join me out here as soon as possible.”
Josie folded her arms over her chest. “What will you have me do?”
Travis removed his hat, dabbing his face with a white handkerchief. “If you don’t mind looking after the children, I will be very grateful. In a little while, you and them can bind the sheaves.”
Josie’s lips parted in disbelief. How degrading of him!
Despite her exhaustion and the urge to stay in bed and rest, the last thing she wanted was to be reduced to a mere babysitter.
Despite being sleep-deprived, she had woken up early, rushed to clean the kitchen as fast as her hands allowed, and stepped outside, ready to put in a full day’s labor as a farmer’s wife.
Yes, she had married Travis for the children, but she also wanted to contribute.
What kind of wife would she be if she sat idle, watching the children play?
With over twenty acres to harvest, she refused to stand by while Travis and Aunt Polly labored.
“I want to help,” Josie stated firmly, her chin high.
Travis gestured towards Aunt Polly, who was cutting through a section with her scythe. “Have you scythed before?”
Josie wanted to roll her eyes. “You must not have listened when I said I don’t shy away from hard labor. I’ve plowed fields and picked cotton in weather hotter than this.”
Travis’s forehead creased. “This is harder than you think. I don’t even let my children get near those blades, and I know they could do it. Just wait for the threshing. There will be plenty of time for you to work.”
Josie chewed the inside of her cheek. Looking into Travis’s blue eyes, shadowed by dark circles beneath them, she couldn’t bear it any longer. “Please, Travis. I want to help. I can’t have you and Aunt Polly doing all the work.”
Travis sighed and put his hat back on his head. “All right, come over here, and I’ll show you what you have to do.”
Josie looked down at Lillian who was still at her side. “Go tell Ivy she’s in charge and to look after Gideon.”
Lillian nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Josie followed after Travis, grateful for the stalks’ height, which helped conceal her midsection.
The crop was breathtaking—golden and swaying with the breeze, reminding Josie of the Book of Ruth.
Travis grabbed his scythe, its long wooden handle curved into a sharp blade.
He lifted it with ease like it weighed nothing at all.
“You’ll want to hold it with your left hand below your right. Aim to cut low, right at the stem.”
Josie nodded. She understood the concept but wasn’t sure how she’d manage to lift the scythe and cut for hours without her arms aching.
She watched as Travis swung the blade in a smooth arc, cutting through the stalks with ease.
He moved steadily down the row, leaving a clean path behind him, as if he put in little effort.
“Wanna take a turn?” he asked.
Josie nodded, straightening her posture and pulling her shoulders back. She was eager to please him, determined to show her husband that she was more than just a Southern belle meant to sit in a parlor, sip tea, and knit all day long. “Yes, please.”
She took hold of the scythe and nearly jumped when she felt Travis standing behind her.
The hair on her arms stood tall like the stalks before her.
The scythe was heavier than she had anticipated.
Travis gently lifted it from the bottom to help guide her hands.
His hand rested over hers, positioning them correctly, and his strength made the tool feel lighter and more manageable.
“Take a swing,” he said close to her ear, making the skin behind her neck tingle.
Josie swung the scythe as hard as she could at the wheat stems, the curved blade slicing through the air with a satisfying swish.
She focused on the motion, trying to remember Travis’s instructions about the angle and the grip.
With each swing, she grew more confident, but the weight of the scythe began to wear on her arms as Travis’s grip loosened.
“I’m going to step away and get my spare. Can you take this from here?” Travis asked, setting the scythe down.
Josie pulled her braid over her shoulder, catching her breath. “I can try.”
Travis ambled off, and Josie was alone with the chore she volunteered for.
Her braid started to unravel, loose strands of hair plastering to her face from sweat.
She imagined her skin reddening under the sun, but she was thankful for the high-neckline of her dress, which offered some protection.
Still, she wondered if it would be enough as the temperature continued to climb.
With the relentless sunlight beating down on her, she realized she had made the wrong choice in her attire—shawl and all.
Josie glanced ahead as Travis used his scythe to slash through the stalks, his muscles flexing with each swing.
His sweat-coated white shirt clung to his body, highlighting the muscles of his back.
Travis wasn’t as muscular as Marcus, but that didn’t mean he lacked strength.
She turned away, focusing on the scythe in her pale, soft hands.
Josie couldn’t look at Travis that way—not when there was no telling what he’d do once the truth came out.
She swung the scythe back and forth like Travis had instructed, refusing to let fatigue stop her.
If Josie was going to be a farmer’s wife, she needed to learn the work that came with it.
Yet, a nagging worry crept into her mind—what if he wouldn’t want her after she revealed the truth?
She pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the rhythm of the scythe cutting through the golden wheat, determined to prove her worth in this new life.
Josie, Travis, and Polly stopped for a break during the mid-afternoon.
They had finished half a section, but they’d have to separate the stalks into piles to dry out then bind them together—meaning Josie and the children had work to do on their own.
Josie looked out into the seemingly endless field and exhaled, her muscles already sore and fatigued.
Few clouds dotted the sky, making the weather hotter than ever.
They would work from sun-up to sundown every day until this field was cleared. The harvest season was going to be grueling, but they had to finish before they could turn the wheat into grain and receive payment.