Weathered Too Young Read Free Page B

wagon. She nearly threw her arms around Hadley Jacobson’s neck to thank him but caught herself a moment before performing such an impetuous and improper display. Instead, she took his hand and shook it as sincerely as she had Tom Evans’ s a moment before.
    “Oh, thank you, Mr. Jacobson! Thank you!” she gushed. “He’s offered me a chance . H e’s offered to see if I can do the job , and I can’t thank you enough for your help!”
    The young cowboy handed her the old carpetbag that hid her only possessions, touched the brim of his hat , and said, “Yer welcome, m iss.” He climbed up onto the wagon seat once more, gathering the lines to the team. “I hope I’ll be seein’ ya in town now and then,” he said. “But not too soon.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Jacobson,” Lark sighed.
    Hadley nodded and slapped the lines at the backs of the team. The team lurched forward.
    Lark didn’t wait to watch him drive too far away. She wanted to make certain Tom Evans knew she was committed to working hard. Therefore, she turned and hurried back to the house.
    “Here I am!” she announced excitedly, running up the steps to the porch.
    Tom Evans chuckled. “Here ya are indeed.” He studied her for a moment and then stepped aside and gestured that she should enter the house.
    “Well, let’s get you settled in , M iss…um… M iss…”
    Lark thought it was sweet—the way he’d already forgotten her name.
    “ Lawrence ,” she told him. “Lark Lawrence, Mr. Evans. But please call me Lark.”
    Tom nodded. “Lark it is then,” he said as she stepped into the house.
    She felt like jumping up and down with glee and utter elation . She’d prove her worth—yes , she would—and then she’d have a place to winter. Still, she concealed her delirium. She didn’t want Tom Evans to think she was some sort of lunatic woman. No. She needed to remain calm—to move and act with the grace and composure of a refined woman. These Evans men were more mature , in their late twenties perhaps. They would respond more positively to the nature of a more mature woman. After all, she had the sense that their recently departed housekeeper had been quite maternal—an older woman. Thus, they were most likely used to less giddiness—a quieter sort of existence.
    As she stepped into the front of the house, she looked about. It was a rather large house , larger than it appeared from the outside. There was a parlor to her right, a kitchen to her left , and a hallway and stairs before her. It was instantly obvious that the house was inhabited by men—solely men. The furniture was thick with dust—strewn with blankets, clothing , and other clutter , even in the parlor. The kitchen looked as if a small twister had blown through. Still, the furnishings were of quality and the general d e cor very tasteful. She credited this fact to the late Mrs. Simpson.
    “Not much to look at,” Tom began, “but we find it cozy enough.”
    “It’s wonderful!” Lark exclaimed sincerely. “It’s sturdy and temperate and ever so masculine,” she commented.
    “Temperate?” Tom chuckled.
    Lark smiled and nodded. “Yes . I t’s very cool and comfortable inside,” she explained. “And I’ve no doubt it’s very warm in the winter.” Warmth! The thought of being warm in winter purely breathed respite in her.
    Tom chuckled again. “Well, we don’t always leave it such a pigsty,” he said , glancing around, “but we been bringin’ in the crops the past few days and just ain’t had a chance to tidy it up.”
    Lark bit her lip and stifled a giggle as he reached over , attempting to conceal a pair of red flannels strewn across a nearby chair. He was a delightful man! Yet the thought of how kind and lighthearted Tom Evans seemed led Lark’s thoughts to his brother. At the sudden reminder that Slater Evans also lived in the house, Lark’s joy was somewhat lessened.
    “There’s a room off the kitchen here that was Matilda’s,” Tom said , leading