She lowered her voice and spoke in a shocked whisper heard by everyone. “Their legs will show up to their knees, and even beyond!”
“Not if we wear trousers,” Emma put in quickly.
Maummi’s mouth fell open, and her chest heaved with her effort to reply. Even Papa had lost his impassive expression, and he stared at his older daughter with disbelieving wide eyes.
“Beneath our dresses,” Emma hurried to add. “Black trousers that will preserve our modesty. Trousers like yours, Papa. Maummi has mended the damaged ones. Rebecca and I can wear those.”
While Maummi sputtered with outrage, Papa closed his eyes and bowed his head. Emma exchanged a glance with Luke, who had taken a subtle step backward, thereby removing himself from the family discussion. He lifted an eyebrow in her direction before turning to scan the horizon with feigned nonchalance.
After a long, silent moment, Papa lifted his head and opened his eyes. “In service to our Lord, the apostle Paul contended with strange customs in pagan lands. Yet the Lord sanctified him and kept him pure. I believe that will happen here, that my girls will be sanctified in this offering of assistance and kept pure.” He turned toward Rebecca. “Bring two pairs of mended trousers.”
Rebecca cast a triumphant grin toward Emma before turning and running for their wagon.
Maummi battled an obvious struggle, and then she stomped over to thrust her face a few inches from Emma’s. “Some things the bishop does not need to know.” Her sparse eyebrows lowered. “Mind that well, girl.”
Emma kept her expression carefully clear as she nodded. When Rebecca returned, Maummi stomped off in the direction of the chuck wagon to check on her patient, as though she couldn’t bear to witness the disgrace of her granddaughters donning men’s trousers.
The men politely turned their backs while Emma and Rebecca slipped Papa’s trousers over their legs. Papa’s girth was much wider than Emma’s. She grabbed a double handful of excess fabric at her waist. Giggling, Rebecca whispered, “We shall need suspenders to keep them on.”
Should they ask to borrow Papa’s spare suspenders as well? Emma glanced over her shoulder at her father’s stiff back. No, they shouldn’t push him any further.
“Tuck the excess into your bloomers, and be sure to hold them up when you mount the horse,” she whispered back.
Rebecca’s peals of laughter were contagious, and both girls were giggling uncontrollably when they finally turned to the men, their hands holding bunched fabric at their waists.
With an effort she regained control and announced, “We are ready.”
Luke and Papa turned toward them. Papa kept his eyes averted, but Luke’s gaze dropped immediately to her feet. Grinning, he caught her gaze and winked a private message for her alone. Her stomach fluttered in response.
“All right,” he said, much louder than necessary, “back to the lesson.” He stepped close to Sugarfoot’s side, cupped his hands, and stooped low to the ground. “Miss Switzer, if you’re ready.”
With a grin for Rebecca, Emma approached. Placing a hand on Luke’s shoulder to steady herself proved to be distracting. She was aware of the firm muscles beneath the rough fabric of his shirt, and the warmth of his skin. Her face was inches from his when he paused for a moment, her foot in his hands, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that she felt all the way to her core. His breath warmed her cheek and snatched her own breath from paralyzed lungs with an intense feeling she’d never experienced before.
And then he broke the moment with a deepened grin. “Up you go.”
Her fingers wrapped themselves in Sugarfoot’s coarse mane, and she pulled herself upward at the same time Luke raised his hands. Almost on instinct, her right leg swung over the horse’s back, and in the next moment she sat high in the saddle, the faces of those gathered around turned up to look at her.
Luke awarded her with a huge smile. He lifted his hand to pat her leg but then stopped before he touched her. A tickle erupted in her stomach. He brought his hand back to his side with an embarrassed expression and turned away. “Rebecca, you’re next.”
Riding the horse wasn’t nearly as difficult as Emma feared. In fact, straddling Sugarfoot was much easier than clinging to Big Ed’s mane, trying to keep her balance with both legs on one side of the horse’s barrel chest. Rebecca whooped with delight when she successfully mounted her own horse, and Emma didn’t bother to control a grin that seemed