Part 16 (1/2)
difficult than he had ever imagined.
Greg didn't wait for Winn to answer.
”I ain't giving them away to n.o.body, but you can have one.”
Winn corrected and Greg dutifully repeated the words.
”I'm not giving them to anybody.”
”But wait a minute,” Winn said.
”I thought this was Peter's dog. How can you give her puppies away?”Greg had stopped so he could open the barn door. ”Peter said he'd give meall the puppies. But he don't know how many 'cause she didn't tell him that.”
”Doesn't know,” Winn corrected.
”Doesn't know,” Greg said leading Winn into the barn .
”It's dark in here,”
he cautioned.
”Good. That'll slow you down.”
Greg giggled.
”You got long legs, you should move faster'n me.”
”Yeah, but it's dark out there,” Winn mimicked, and let Greg hold his hand
out to meet a cool damp nose.Greg and Winn were filling buckets with water for the wash. Winn worked thepump and Greg watched the bucket to tell him when it was full. Greg's attention was easily distracted, but the system worked as well as it needed to.
”Peter says if we was Indians, Mama'd wash the
clothes at the creek and we wouldn't have to carry no water.”
”Any water,” Winn corrected absently. He was trying to learn how the bucketsounded when it was full. When he stopped to answer Greg he realized that hehad been counting the pump strokes. It was becoming a habit. He counted everything.
”Our clothes will get cleaner in the hot water than they would at the creek.”
”We wouldn't care if they wasn't clean if we was Indians,” argued the child.
”And I'd never get a haircut. Stop!” Greg giggled.
”More water always keeps coming after you stop pumping and it spills on mytoes.”
Winn laughed. Greg found fun in everything. ”Let's get these buckets to thefire,” he said, feeling for the handle of the bucket at the Waterspout.
”I'll help you carry one,” Greg said, but the water only spilled when hetried to help.
”Maybe you better take my other hand and lead me. We can come back for the second bucket.”
Earlier, Cynthie had asked Winn to help her carry the heavy metal frame fromthe shed. Now she had her large pot suspended on it and a fire startedunderneath. She was going to take advantage of the pretty morning and getthe laundry, sheets, blankets, everything clean.
Cynthie had listened to the exchange between Winn and Greg as she tended thefire, and couldn't help but marvel at how they got along together.
Victor would never have thought of let ting Greg help with anything.
To be fair, Cynthie reminded herself, Greg had been only three when Victordied and therefore less able to help. Somehow she couldn't picture it, anyway. Victor wouldn't have been out here pumping water for her. He would have sent one of the hands to help her in the first place.
She watched Winn walk toward her, noting the confidence in his stride.
She knew she watched him with more than a caretaker's eye. She noticed the width of his shoulders, the strength of the arm that carried the bucket andthe gentleness of the hand that held her son's. She noticed the blue eyes,masculine jaw and dimples and found herself longing to touch him.
When he stopped in front of her, she offered to take the bucket.
”Just guide it over the pot. I'll pour,” he said.
Greg had already raced back to the well. Before she could talk herself out of it, Cynthie decided to take advantage of their moment alone. She steppedas close to him as possible and guided the bucket over the lip of the pot.The nearness made her heart race. She leaned closer still and let her arm touch his as she helped him dp the bucket up. His arm was warm from the sun and sent little tremors of heat through her body.
Her shoulder brushed against his upper arm when he lowered the bucket to hisside. She couldn't help but wonder if his body was reacting the way hers wasto these briefest of touches.
He stepped away and she tried to not sigh in frustration. How could she flirt with a man who couldn't see her? She ought to know better anyway. It would just lead to disappointment, but it felt so good that she didn't wantto be reasonable.
Winn turned and counted his steps back to the well.
He hoped she would think he was grinning at Greg as they returned with thesecond bucket. He wasn't About to tell her that all she needed to do was getthe bucket resting on the side of the pot. He could tell easily enough whenit was empty. He wondered how many buckets of water it took to do the wash.
His guide deserted him suddenly, halfway to the fire. Cynthie was there tohelp him empty the second bucket. Her hair smelled the way it always did,sweet and fresh. The brief contact, which he did no thing to avoid, made himwonder more about the rest of her. What did she look like? What might shefeel like in his arms, right now, right here, with the wind in her hair andthe sun on her face? He decided it was probably a good thing that Greginterrupted them just as he lowered the bucket and Cynthie stepped away.
”Someone's coming,” announced the boy.