Loving Linsey Read online

  Addie flew off the veranda, down Briar Hill. “Mr. Potter!” She waved one arm in a frantic hail. The release of a handful of starched bombazine caused her hem to snag under her swiftly churning feet. She stumbled, then righted herself and cried again, “Mr. Potter, wait!”

  He hauled in the reins amidst a duo of raucous neighs. The wagon came to a jerky stop just as Addie reached it.

  Her breathing harsh and irregular, she gripped the homespun material of his trouser leg. “Please Mr. Potter, I need you . . . to follow that balloon!”

  “Balloon? Jarvis’s balloon?”

  “My sister is in there!”

  “What’s Linsey doing in—”

  “Please! There is no time to explain, just . . . make haste!”

  Before he could object, and before she had time to think about what she was doing, Addie hauled herself unceremoniously up the mounting step, over Mr. Potter’s lap, and fell into the empty spot beside him.

  Ignoring his look of astonishment, she pointed west. “After that craft!”

  With a bellowing “Haw” and a snap of the reins, the smithy set the horses to lurching forward.

  “Hurry, Mr. Potter!” she yelled above the clang of harness, the quick clomp of hooves, and the creak of wood. “We must try and catch them.”

  “The horses are goin’ as fast as they can!”

  His sharp tone silenced Addie, though her mind urged the mounts to greater speed. Mr. Potter took them through the center of town, scattering people and animals out of his path. The horses galloped across the sideless bridge that arched over Horseshoe Creek, onto the gently rolling grasslands where the road was little more than twin ruts. Untamed weeds as high as the underbelly of the wagon grew between the parallel tracks, making it hard to judge where the road twisted.

  Addie clamped one hand around Mr. Potter’s muscle-bound arm while her other hand clutched the seat. Wind tore at her chignon and scored her eyes. If her sister wasn’t already, dying, she’d kill her! How dare Linsey do such a reckless, dangerous thing when her life was already being cut short?

  Addie closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer that the winds would ease, that the balloon would drift back to the ground, that Linsey would see the error of her heedless ways and learn to stay at home where she belonged—

  A violent bump interrupted the plea.

  The wagon tilted, then tipped, rolling onto its side. Addie heard the horses scream just before she was thrown to the ground. A crushing weight fell on top of her. For a moment, she feared the wagon was smashing her—except wagons didn’t smell of hot irons and damp leather.

  Then she became aware of a button imprinting itself on her nose, and the expanding breath of a human body. “Mr. Potter, please remove yourself from my person before I suffocate.”

  In the next instant the weight lifted from her, leaving her skin oddly cold.

  “Miss Witt, are you all right?”

  “What happened?”

  “Must’ve hit a stone.”

  “The horses! I heard them scream . . .”

  A moment’s silence wrought with anxiety stretched tightly between them as he glanced around. “Don’t see hide nor hair of ’em. Broke free, I reckon. They’ll head for home,” he said, turning back to her.

  Despite the reassuring smile that tugged at his full mouth, worry clouded the blue of his eyes. She hadn’t realized until now what a pretty blue they were—a mix of light and dark, like the swirling waters of Horseshoe Creek, with long lashes any lady would envy. Then those lashes dropped over his eyes, his gaze lowered, and then climbed back up her.

  Addie’s throat went oddly dry. She undoubtedly looked like she’d been roped and dragged. Her clothes were soiled and torn, her chignon had completely come loose from its pins, and she didn’t need to look to know how dirty she was, for she felt the grit clinging to her skin.

  And still, he looked at her, his gaze growing darker, hooded.

  Disturbed by the steady regard, Addie looked away and passed a trembling hand through her tangled hair. What did he think when he looked at her? She knew how plain she was, how dull—and yet, for a moment there, just before his large body rocked to a stand, she could have sworn she’d seen hunger in his eyes.

  “Dad gummit,” he cussed, standing beside the wagon with his hands on his hips. “I just had this wheel fixed before Bleet kicked the bucket—beggin’ your pardon, miss.”

  “Now what will we do?”

  “Ain’t no help for it—we start walkin’”

  “Walking? Where to?”

  “Town, I reckon. It’s only a few miles.”

  “But my sister—”

  “Will have to fend for herself,” he interrupted. “There’s no way we can catch her without horses. And by the time we get to town, that balloon will be long gone. Could be days before she brings it down.”

  “Days?”

  “Yep. Jarvis said some fellas had their airship cloud-borne for a week. Course, they knew what they were doin’ up there.” Oren shook his head. “Sure hope your sister does.”

  Linsey clutched the rope ladder with all her strength as the wind lifted the balloon at a rapid rate.

  Her eyes watered, her muscles felt like jelly, and her arms were stretched to the point of being yanked out of the sockets.

  She chanced a glance down. Her eyes popped wide at the ever-growing distance between herself and the ground. Oh, Lordy! She hadn’t expected the craft to soar so high, and not so fast.

  To make matters worse, Jarvis chose that moment to enter the empty lot, his arms loaded with items Linsey couldn’t identify from her lofty position. Behind him trailed a contingent of spectators, their gestures signaling the excitement of attending such a grand and unique ascension.

  Jarvis spotted her a second later. The gear spilled to the ground. He raced forward. Dimly she heard him shouting at her. Waving his arms, stomping his feet, he demanded she bring his balloon back.

  If only she could!

  Right now, it was all she could do to keep from falling. With a strength she didn’t know she had, she pulled herself upward, only to have a gust of wind swoop down and catch the underbelly of the basket. Her foot slipped off the rung; Linsey dangled in midair, a scream lodged in her throat. Was this it then? The end? She’d known her days were numbered, but of all the ways she’d imagined going, plummeting from hundreds of feet in the air hadn’t been among them.

  The old-timers claimed a person saw their whole life pass before their eyes in the moments before death; Linsey could now support that claim—for in a split second, she saw a five-year-old redhead picking four-leaf clovers on Briar Hill; making faces at Addie while she struggled through one of her piano lessons; the time she dragged Addie upstairs in the Rusty Bucket saloon, just for curiosity’s sake, and got an eyeful of Daniel she never dreamed of. . . .

  “Daaa-nieeel!”

  Oh, please, help me, she prayed, clutching the ropes for all she was worth as the balloon continued rising. Don’t let me die like this, in a broken, bleeding heap. Not now, not yet, not when I’ve got so many things left to do. . . .

  Just when her strength reached the verge of failure, she heard Daniel’s voice. “Jesus, Linsey!” Then a pair of steely fingers wrapped around Linsey’s wrists.

  “Grab hold of me; I’ll pull you up.”

  “If I let go, I’ll fall.”

  “No, you won’t. I won’t let you.”

  She hesitated only a second before releasing first one side of the ladder to grasp desperately at Daniel’s wrist, then the other.

  “Now push yourself up.”

  She didn’t think she had any strength left, and yet, as if Daniel were lending her some of his, she managed to fight both the wind and fear, and she climbed. One rung. Two.

  Then Daniel’s arms were under hers, and around her back, and the next thing she knew, she had cleared the rim. Linsey’s knees buckled beneath her and she collapsed against Daniel’s chest.

  Blessed life pumped beneath the
cheek she pressed against his heart. Linsey savored the strength against her, around her, as she inhaled the glorious musky scent of man, the tang of soap, the crispness of starched linen. Never had smells smelled so wonderful.

  “Are you all right?”

  Willing her shattered nerves to regroup and her racing pulses to calm, she nodded. “A little shaken is all.”

  “Do you realize that if I hadn’t heard all that shouting, I wouldn’t have had any idea you were hanging from that ladder?”

  “I know.” She lifted her head and stared at him. She didn’t care if the worship she felt in her soul showed in her eyes. Daniel had risked his own safety for her, and she could never forget that. “You saved my life, Daniel.” And even though she didn’t have much of it left, every second was precious.

  “If I had any sense, I would have let you fall,” he countered in a gruff, almost affectionate tone she’d never heard from him before.

  He set her away from him and passed a hand through his windblown hair. It surprised her to see his fingers shaking.

  “What the hell were you doing on that ladder anyway?” he demanded.

  “Hanging on for dear life.”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way, I swear! You were supposed to—” Linsey clamped her lips shut.

  His eyes narrowed to slits. “I was supposed to what?”

  Appalled at how easily she’d almost let her plan slip, Linsey changed the subject. “Nothing. Let’s just figure out how to get this thing down.”

  Chapter 9

  Blacksmiths are credited with magical powers because of their association with fire, iron, and horses.

  Nibbling on her thumbnail, Linsey studied the gear secured in the center of a metal hoop above her head and tried to ignore Daniel’s taut silence. But she knew she’d have better luck putting out a wildfire with a paper fan.

  In a menacing voice, he asked, “What do you mean, figure out how to get this thing down? Don’t you know how to work this contraption?”

  “How am I supposed to work it? I’ve never been in a balloon before!”

  “And I have?”

  “Jarvis is your friend, not mine.”

  “That doesn’t mean he told me how to operate this thing. Until two days ago, I didn’t even know he’d bought it. He kept it a guarded secret.”

  She felt her face blanch. “Oh, no.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  So much for her theory that Daniel would know how to handle the craft. “Well, there must be some way to lower the balloon.” Linsey searched the interior of the basket. All around the perimeter, burlap bags tied with twine lay in beds of coiled rope. She bent to investigate one of the sacks and discovered it was heavy with sand. “Aha, maybe these will do the trick.”

  After tying each sandbag at intervals around the rim, Linsey tossed them out of the basket one by one, then leaned over the side to assess her handiwork. The sandbags simply dangled in the air, knocking against each other but doing nothing to weigh down the craft. In fact, the balloon might even have risen a few feet.

  “That worked real well,” Daniel drawled.

  “Got any better ideas?”

  “We could toss you out.”

  She shot him a blazing look. “At least I’m trying. All you’re doing is standing there.”

  “You’re the one who got us up here. It’s only fair that you get us down.”

  Though it remained unsaid, she got the impression that he didn’t think she could do it. “Okay, let me think, let me think. . . .” Ignoring his snigger, Linsey walked in a circle, tapping her temples. “Jarvis said something about opening a flap.” She eyed the swollen panels, then the apparatus at the mouth. “I know one of these valves releases the hydrogen, so maybe the other one opens something to release the air.”

  But which valve?

  She reached up for the one on the right, then the one on the left, then the one on the right again in indecision.

  At Daniel’s exasperated breath, she settled on the right valve. A sudden whoosh of hydrogen shot the craft up and threw Linsey to the bottom of the car. She landed hard on her shoulder, though the pile of furs cushioned her fall. The balloon stuttered in flight. The basket wobbled but remained upright.

  Daniel must have managed to shut off the flow, for when Linsey climbed to her knees and pushed her hair out of her eyes, he was gripping one of the overhead supports with one hand, wiping his brow with the other. “Calamity Linsey strikes again.”

  “I must have turned the wrong valve.”

  “Obviously.”

  “At least we know which one it isn’t.” She pushed herself to her feet and staggered toward the equipment. “So I’ll just try the other one.”

  “And what, shoot us to the moon?” His hand covered hers over the second valve. Once more, the feel of his warm palm over her knuckles sent a jolt of lightning down her arm. “You’ve caused enough damage for one day.”

  Linsey tried tugging away from the disturbing sensation his touch created. “Like you said, I got us up here; I’ll get us down.”

  Daniel’s hold tightened. “I’d like to touch ground in one piece, if you don’t mind.”

  Glaring at him, Linsey kept a firm grip on the valve, refusing to let him win this little battle he’d started. For the love of Gus, he could be so stubborn! It would serve him right if he was the one to fall out and not she.

  Just then, a cord suspended from the deepest recesses of the balloon caught her notice.

  Daniel followed the direction of her attention and also spotted the cord. Linsey reached to grab the line. Daniel blocked her move.

  With a frustrated “grrr!” she tried sidestepping around him. He responded in kind.

  She couldn’t say when annoyance gave way to mischief. Maybe it was when she saw his lips twitch. Oh, he didn’t dare crack a smile, but miracle of miracles, there was a luster in his brown eyes hinting that he wasn’t completely devoid of humor.

  Exhilarated by that competitive gleam, Linsey sidestepped, only to have Daniel thwart the way. Back and forth, around and around. Daniel had height and strength on his side, but Linsey had speed and cunning on hers. And the game was slowly advancing from good-natured fun to a fierce battle to win. But sometimes, Linsey recalled hearing her father say, the best strategy was surrender.

  Or at least the impression of it.

  She relaxed her body and yawned. Daniel dipped his head and watched her with suspicion. One thing was certain, she thought with grudging respect, he was not a fool. Nor would life with him ever be dull.

  Addie was luckier than either of them expected.

  After several minutes, Linsey’s patience paid off, for Daniel’s coal black brows lifted in a cocky expression of victory. Then he made the mistake of letting down his guard.

  Linsey sprang.

  Daniel lunged.

  Both yanked the cord at the same time.

  And it broke.

  Both stood gaping up at the coils falling out of the mouth of the balloon, around her arm, across his shoulder . . .

  When the last slithering echo died away, Linsey rounded on him. “Now look what you did!”

  Daniel’s jaw dropped. “Me! You’re the one who insisted on yanking on the damn thing!”

  “There’s no reason to curse at me.”

  That didn’t stop him from letting loose a string of profanities under his breath. He braced himself against the rim, elbows locked, one leg cocked. “This is just peachy.” He pushed his hair back with his fingers. “I’m stuck in a bucket with the Queen of Catastrophe.”

  Linsey frowned at him. “I’m no happier with the situation than you are.” After all, this should have been the perfect opportunity for Daniel and Addie to become acquainted with each other, not for Linsey to spend some of her precious last hours trapped aloft with the ogre of Henderson County.

  It seemed they’d both become the victims of a plan gone absurdly awry.
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  “Look,” she said with a sigh, “We aren’t going to force this thing to the ground, so there’s only one thing left to do.”

  “And that is?”

  “Enjoy the ride.”

  “Enjoy! Have you lost every last ounce of sense you were born with?”

  “Think about it. What goes up must come down—eventually. So until this thing runs out of hydrogen, we might as well relax and ride the wind wherever it wants to take us—unless you’re afraid of having a little fun.”

  “I have fun!”

  “Oh, cow patties. You wouldn’t know fun if you sat on it. You’re too busy tending to the county’s bumps and bruises.”

  “I’m a doctor. It’s my job.”

  “I’m perfectly aware of that, but haven’t you ever heard that all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy?”

  Daniel stared at her, his mouth agape.

  “There are no patients to tend up here, Doc. Just you, the wind, and the wide blue yonder—so why don’t you try closing your mouth, opening your eyes, and enjoying the view.” She paused, turned, then whispered, “You might never get this chance again.”

  He didn’t mean to obey her. He sure as hell didn’t mean to enjoy the view at her command. Neither one of them knew the first thing about landing a hydrogen balloon much less how to navigate one, and yet he seemed to be the only one who recognized the severity of their situation.

  But as his sullen gaze swung away from Linsey and landed on the view below, Daniel couldn’t stop the tide of wonder washing through him.

  They were coasting above the treetops, some so close that if he wanted, he could reach out and grab a fistful of pine needles off the uppermost branches. A northwestern wind lifted them into the gentle palms of clouds scuttling by, and carried them farther into the open countryside.

  The land looked like a patchwork quilt sewn in perfect squares. The rich brown of turned fields, the dun yellows of mowed hay, the gemlike green of grassland, with seams of bluish black water adding to the design. Cattle grazed near ponds, and now and then a lone horseman would look up at them, his eyes shielded with his hand.

  They spotted several familiar homesteads. The Chisms’. The Hannickers’. Did old man Arbuckle know he had a hole the size of wagon wheel in his barn roof? Daniel made a mental note to mention it to the cotton farmer when he next came into the apothecary for his monthly supply of camphor.