Free Beyond All Measure by Dorothy Love

you care for Lillian, and you wouldn’t allow her to drive alone.”
    He was right. Already, she had developed a grudging concern for the older woman. What made her so angry was that Wyatt saw it and was using it to his advantage. She huffed out an exasperated breath.
    “I am sorry for surprising you this way, but something tells me you’ll do just fine.” He tipped his Stetson. “I’ll see you ladies after work.”
    Lillian sighed and pulled on her lace gloves. “Might as well plan on staying for supper then.”
    “Yep,” he drawled, a gleam of mischief lighting his eyes, “might as well.”
    He swung effortlessly into the saddle, then cantered his horse across the yard and onto the road, churning up a cloud of dust behind him.
    “Well?” Lillian tucked her skirts beneath her. “Are we going, or are you planning to sit here all day mooning over my nephew?”
    “Mooning? Over him? Absolutely not.” Ada picked up the reins and yelled, “Get up!”
    Smoky snorted and shook his head. The buggy jostled across the yard and rolled down the lane. Soon the horse settled into a comfortable trot. Far ahead of them, Wyatt’s horse moved smartly down the road. As the buggy neared a sharp bend, horse and rider disappeared into the trees. Ada released a pent-up sigh.
    Lillian dabbed her forehead with a lace handkerchief. “I can’t imagine what I was thinking, agreeing to the hiring of yet another young woman after what happened with Hannah Fields.”
    “You needn’t worry.” Ada glanced at the older woman. “I promise not to abscond with a traveling salesman.”
    “People in love do strange things, especially when the love they feel is not reciprocated.”
    “Surely Miss Fields wouldn’t have gone away with someone for whom she had no tender feelings.”
    The rig rolled past wide, green fields and thick sedges bending in the breeze. Far above, a hawk turned in slow circles, casting a shadow onto the grass.
    “It wasn’t the drummer that she loved.”
    Understanding dawned. Ada’s stomach dropped. “Mr. Caldwell?”
    “It isn’t as if he tries to attract attention. People are just naturally drawn to him.”
    Ada recalled Wyatt’s easy conversation with his mill foreman, his gentle ways with Lillian, his quiet confidence. There was something about him that made people want to be near him.
    “He’s always been that way,” Lillian said, “from the time he was a boy. My house was the most popular place in town whenever Wyatt Caldwell arrived for a visit. People showed up just to find out what he’d do next.” She laughed. “One time—he must have been eleven or twelve—he and his best friend Billy Rondo made a raft out of an old piano crate and headed down the river like Lewis and Clark. That escapade very nearly stopped my heart.”
    Ada smiled, imaging an intrepid young Wyatt, lanky and blue-eyed, setting off on an adventure.
    “It was to be expected, I suppose,” Lillian said, her conversation looping back to Hannah Fields. “A young and handsome bachelor with his own business would be a catch anywhere, but especially in a town like Hickory Ridge. We lost so many men to the war.”
    “Wyatt told me about Cold Harbor.”
    “Did he? That’s a surprise. He rarely talks about the war to anyone.”
    They passed the road to Two Creeks. Lillian said, “I hope he warned you about going down to the colored settlement.”
    Ada nodded, remembering what Wyatt had said about the Klan. The mere mention of it made her stomach tight with apprehension. She had no intention of ever setting foot in Two Creeks.
    Smoky clop-clopped past the lumber mill. The yard teemed with men removing bark from newly felled trees and loading them onto wagons. The steam-powered saws screamed, and the crack of axes echoed through the trees. In a small paddock behind the office, Wyatt’s horse stood placidly cropping grass.
    Ada drove on. She was curious to know what had happened between Wyatt and Hannah Fields but stifled the