rejection from her tongue, and by the time she reached the McCashes’ fence, she’d set aside her irritation.
As she’d done previously, Addie called from the edge of what she considered the yard.
A slump-shouldered woman with brown hair straggling in her face stayed in the doorway. She shook her head sadly. “My man don’t allow no strangers around here. He’ll be comin’ in most any minute now for vittles, so you best get on outta here.”
“Ma’am, I’d like to trade these books from the li—”
“Not today.”
Addie held back a grunt of aggravation and pointed to the fence. “May I use your fence to get on my horse?”
“You best move on.” The woman disappeared inside the cabin.
Addie moved on toward the next stop, consoling herself that at least no one aimed a rifle at her or threatened to sic a dog on her here. Mother would probably call that a blessing, albeit a minuscule one. But she’d used up half the day, seen three families, and hadn’t delivered even one book. Or collected one. How would she face Emmett and the other riders after failing so dismally?
Boone’s Hollow
Emmett
AS EMMETT HAD predicted, the first rider, Glory, returned well before five o’clock. She handed in her books, smiling big, and told him Alba was right behind her. Alba came in as jubilant to have the evening free as Glory was. The girls left together, jabbering and giggling. It heartened him to know they were leaving happy. He and Miss West had done well in organizing their new routes.
He’d just finished recording Glory’s returns when Bettina sauntered in. Recalling their unpleasant exchange that morning, his stomach tightened, but she flopped her pack onto the corner of the table and then offered him an eyelash-batting smile, as if their disagreement hadn’t taken place.
She patted the stack of books Alba had brought back. “Looks like everybody’s gettin’ in early. Tell you what…” She fluttered her eyelashes again and rested her weight on one leg, hip jutted out. “When you’ve got the returns marked in the book the way Miz West always done, why don’tcha come to my place? Got some cream I need to use up, so I’ll be makin’ creamed peas an’ chicken over biscuits for supper. Don’t mean to brag or nothin’, but I’m a pretty fair cook. My biscuits are light as an angel’s wings.”
He rubbed his stomach. “That sounds good, Bettina, but Maw’s expecting me for supper.”
She shrugged. “Come over after supper, then. Mebbe we could play dominoes. Or slapjack. Pap’s got a deck o’ cards just sittin’ around waitin’ for somebody to use ’em.”
Maw would skin him alive if he played card games. She didn’t hold with games of chance—said they were of the devil. He didn’t share her view, but he respected her too much to partake behind her back. “I better not. I’ve still got quite a bit of work to do here. I might have to finish up after supper.”
Bettina flicked the pages on the closest magazine. “Ain’t fair for you to have to work clear into the evenin’ if all us girls got the hours free.”
“Well, so far you, Alba, and Glory have the evening free. Addie isn’t back yet.” He pulled out his timepiece and checked it. Only a quarter after five. He shouldn’t worry yet. He lifted his head and found Bettina examining him through slitted eyes.
“Are you makin’ excuses so’s you can stay here this evenin’ an’ read that story Addie wrote up?”
Emmett had already finished it during his lunch break. Addie’s ability to weave pictures with words had impressed him. She wrote well. Maybe as well as some published authors he’d read. But more than that, she’d stirred his emotions. He wouldn’t share his thoughts with Bettina, though. She didn’t need any more fuel for her jealousy fire.
He forced a smile. “I’ve got too much work to do to think about reading for pleasure. It’ll take me a while to learn every part of this new job.”
Bettina whirled, giving her head a toss. “Well, then, I reckon I better leave you to it. But if you change your mind, just mosey on over.” One more eyelash flutter and she slipped around the corner.
Emmett sagged into his chair. Mercy, that girl was unpredictable. One minute all smiles and charm, the next flinging daggers with her eyes. But as he recalled from their growing up together, she flitted from one interest to another much like a butterfly moving from flower to flower. She’d