Badland Bride by Lauri Robinson

soon as her head lifted from his chest, an empty, vacant sensation took its place. He wanted to rub at the spot.
    Skeeter watched, not saying anything as she sat up and looked around. After a couple minutes, her green eyes turned toward him, the gaze questioning. “It wasn't a dream was it?” she whispered.
    She hadn't slept long, no more than half an hour. “No,” he said, softly, not wanting to frighten her.
    She crossed her legs, placed her elbows on her knees, and resting her chin in the palms of her hands, asked, “What am I going to do?"
    Her face was stricken with sadness. At that moment, he would have paid all the money in the world to find her a ride home. But there was no ride to the future, no horse, no train, or carriage could carry her a hundred and twenty-six years away. Skeeter filled his lungs with a long, deep breath and held it for a moment. He forced a smile to emit, and touched the end of her button nose with the tip of one finger. “Well, I've been thinking about that."
    Hope flashed in her eyes for a brief moment. It made his heart tumble.
    "I can try and dig the tunnel out."
    "You can?” Her face brightened a touch more. “I'll help."
    "No, it's going to be a lot of work. Work that's not fit for a woman.” He picked up a twig to give his fingers something to do. “And it's going to take some time. So, I'll take you to my mother's house. You can stay there with her, and I'll bring my three younger brothers back here to help me. When the tunnel is done...” The twig snapped between his fingers. He tossed it aside. “I'll come and get you."
    "But I could stay here, with you, and help. I'm stronger than I look."
    Her assurance tickled him, made a wide smile tug on his lips. “I'm sure you are plenty strong enough, but digging a hole isn't woman's work.” He stood, held out one hand.
    She took it and threaded her fingers between his after she rose beside him. “What is woman's work?"
    Her fingertips floated over the back of his hand. The way her closeness awoke every sensation in his body was amazing, something he'd never experienced. It was all quite overwhelming, and enticing. He knew sexual urges. From about the time a boy turned ten, he recognized arousal, and learned how to contend with it on a regular basis. This was different. It was more of an awakening, a gentle and caring awareness that filled his entire body. It wasn't uncomfortable, actually it was quite pleasant.
    "Skeeter?"
    He shook the assessing thoughts from his mind. “Sorry, I-I was contemplating on women's work,” he lied, feeling his cheeks burn a touch.
    "What?"
    He reached down, plucked his hat off the ground and placed it on her head. Tugging their entwined hands, encouraging her to follow him out of the shade, he said, “Well, in our time woman's work may be different than in your time, I didn't want to offend you."
    She pressed her head against his shoulder in a playful manner. “You are quite the gentleman, aren't you Skeeter Quinter?"
    Either it was the light, happy feeling her closeness caused, or the image of him being called a gentleman, he laughed aloud. “I don't think anyone's ever called me a gentleman before."
    "Well, then I guess they don't know you like I do."
    The wide hat prevented him from seeing her face, but he could have sworn her words came from a smiling mouth. She took a step and stiffened. He paused, glanced to see if she'd stepped on something. Her toes wiggled. “Sore feet?” he asked, looking at the leather thong running between her red-tipped toes.
    She nodded.
    "Sit down,” he instructed and pulled off her silly shoes when she did. Large, white blisters covered the insides of her toes where the leather ran between them. He pulled a bandana from his back pocket and tore it in two. After wrapping the strips around the leather, he handed the shoes back to her. “It might be a bit uncomfortable, but will ease the pain of the blisters.
    She slipped the shoes on, stood, and took a couple