Free Sycamore Hill by Francine Rivers Page B

morning to get everything in readiness for the children.
At least, I thought with some satisfaction, the schoolroom had become more
cheerful with the children’s artistic contributions.
    Intending to do my wash, I was in the process of toting water when
I heard laughter coming from the front play yard. Coming around from the back,
I spied Jordan Bennett coming up the street on his buckboard. Behind him a
sturdy horse was tied and following. In the back of the wagon was a hand plow.
At a safe distance behind the horse I spotted Sherman and Grant following,
laughing between themselves.
    From the gleam in Jordan Bennett’s eyes I knew that his malicious
intention was to make me look a complete fool. Squaring my shoulders, I started
forward to meet him at the front gate.
    “Good morning, Mr. Bennett,” I greeted him pleasantly enough. “How
kind of you to come by to plow our play yard for us.”
    Jordan Bennett laughed. “Nice try,” he said in a low voice only I
heard. “Just unload it over there, boys,” he instructed Sherman and Grant.
Matthew Hayes had arrived with two of his brothers. They all were more than
eager to oblige Bennett’s order.
    “The horse and plow are my contribution to your cleanup efforts.”
He grinned.
    “I’m sure I should be very grateful,” I said glumly.
    “I’ll even be kind enough to give you a quick lesson,” Bennett
went on. I knew he expected me to decline and tell him what he could do with
his horse and plow.
    “All right,” I agreed. “I’m more than willing to learn if it’s
necessary.”
    His blue eyes narrowed as he considered me in silence. He jumped
down off the buckboard. “We’ll see if you have the back muscles for it,” he
commented. “A woman of your intelligence should be quick enough to learn
something as simple as plowing a field. Wouldn’t you say?”
    “I don’t imagine I’ll be the first.”
    With a few succinct instructions he showed me how to harness the
horse, which was looking dubious about the whole thing. I eyed the animal
warily, half expecting it to kick me. Jordan looped the reins about my
shoulders, positioned the plow and stood back. I had watched the play of his
hard muscles through his cotton shirt. He made everything look easy, and my
confidence grew. After taking the plow for a step or two, he turned the job
over to me.
    It was not as easy as it looked. I mimicked his movements, and the
knowledge that he and five of my students were watching me gave me added
strength. After about ten feet I knew it would be impossible for me to plow the
play yard myself. My back and arms were already aching.
    Pausing to wipe my forehead, I glanced back to see Jordan Bennett
standing there with his arms crossed over his broad chest. He was enjoying
this. He was just hoping I would quit so he could make another one of his
cutting remarks about my ineptitude. I turned back around, determined to go on.
    Something scurried through the grass and startled the horse. It
bolted to the side, jerking the plow out of my hands and making me fall heavily
to the ground. My thigh hit something hard, and I gasped in pain. I barely had
enough time to get my breath when Jordan Bennett was leaning down, intending to
haul me up like a sack of potatoes.
    “I can get up by myself, thank you, Mr. Bennett.” I pulled my arm
away from his far-from-gentle touch. I kept my face averted so he could not see
how much my leg hurt. I knew I had bruised it badly. He disregarded my
assertion and grasped me around the waist to lift me to my feet.
    “Are you always so damned stubborn?” he demanded harshly, his face
so close to mine that his breath fanned my cheeks. “You didn’t seriously think
I meant for you to plow this damn yard, did you? Now, what did you do to your
leg?”
    “It’s nothing,” I stammered, unable to pull my eyes away from his.
My heart was thudding frantically, and my breathing was shallow. His eyes
narrowed and dropped to my mouth.
    “Are you all right,