Free Brighter Tomorrows by Beverly Wells

saluting the sky. For a second, she seemed suspended in air, as if sitting on an invisible carpet hovering two foot above the ground. Or more like she’d been propelled through the air by a cannonball’s impact in the gut.
    Either way, he mused, gravity finally won out. With a resounding thud she landed flat on her rump, knees bent wide under the full skirt, a stunned look upon her colorless face. Despite the woman’s disaster, his usual manners—drilled into him by his loving mother—and better sense, Luke let loose a howl. Tears sprang to his eyes as he doubled over in a fit of chortles.
    “Yur ass is showing, ya moron,” Hans said with a snarl.
    Luke roared all the more, thinking it a wonder the lady’s ass wasn’t showing.
    His expression cold and furious, Hans rushed toward the woman. Hans’s rancor sobered Luke. Well, almost. They’d clowned in mock anger, but they’d never crossed words. He found it difficult to totally suppress his mirth, but he, too, dashed to the middle of the road.
    “Missy,” Hans said, his concerned voice far different from a moment ago. Kneeling at her side, he brushed from her face the strands of hair that had pulled loose from her now-drooping upsweep.
    Hans gripped her shoulders. “Don’t try to move yet. Catch yur wind first.” The woman took a deep breath, shivered, then exhaled long and hard.
    Luke skirted them and retrieved her shawl from where it had flown. He turned, placed it over her shoulders, and stood silent behind her. Without acknowledging him, she wiggled her shoulders to adjust it.
    Hans leaned on his haunches. “Can ya move?”
    Clutching the shawl with both fists, she squirmed from side to side as if testing body parts. “It takes more than one clumsy fall to do harm to these tough bones.”
    Her laughter tinkled through the evening’s chill like soft chimes. Luke had to give her credit for her resilience. “Only my pride’s hurt, Hans. If you’d help me up, I’d appreciate it.”
    Hans assisted her till she found sure ground beneath her feet. Only then did she turn and look straight at Luke.
    “Thank you for rescuing my shawl.” Her voice held a bit of shyness, her dark brown eyes mirrored equal embarrassment. Though the sky had turned ashen, he noted her becoming blush. He’d first thought her quite plain in her drab brown dress and matching shamble of hair. But with cheeks rosy, her eyes gleaming like polished mahogany, Luke felt something stir deep inside. Her mere presence drew him. Warm and welcoming. Unsettling, to say the least.
    Luke nodded. “You’re more than welcome, ma’am.” Her eyes seemed to ask a gamut of questions before she turned to face Hans. Her footing faltered as she tried to balance between hilled clumps and valleys of dirt. Luke reached out instinctively. He caught her by the shoulders before she went down again. He couldn’t hold back his chuckle. Was the woman clumsy, or did she just have difficulty walking on uneven furrows?
    “Let’s get you off the road before you have all three of us wallowing in the dirt like pigs.”
    He guided her to the wagon, one hand clasping hers, the other at the small of her back. Hans followed at her other side. Releasing her hand, he noted how small, how warm it had felt within his. Thin as a sapling, she barely reached his shoulders, yet her hand had clutched his with a vise-like grip as she’d trekked across the road. No wispy willow here, he thought with a smile. Most women would kill for a waist as small as hers.
    Before he could introduce himself, Hans spoke. “Missy, I need to talk to Luke for a bit.”
    She lifted her chin and met Luke’s gaze with unforeseen boldness. Was this the same woman who had appeared so shy, topsy-turvy awkward, and hesitant a minute ago?
    “I know exactly what you have to tell him, Hans. So, please, speak freely...or I can, for that matter.” Her gaze remained fixed. Lord, how dark her eyes were, how they glistened under the abating light. Could