really a selfish, brittle-tempered harridan set on having her way in everything, or was it possible that somewhere under that shrill armor plate was a warm, loving woman capable of making him forget the loneliness of a rancher’s life?
Burch’s attention was gradually drawn to the quiet repose of Sibyl’s face. This was how she was meant to be, he thought, not the snapping, snarling alley cat of the last two days. He would discover some way to get past her defenses, for he had decided in that moment she must be his.
He took a deep breath and announced his presence with a cheerful, “Morning.”
Sibyl nearly threw a plate of sausages into the air. “You startled me,” she said crossly, and men remembered her resolution to be pleasant to him no matter what the provocation. Both of them broke into hesitant smiles.
“I’m not so foolish as to intentionally scare anyone willing to fix me this kind of breakfast. Jesse is going to wish he’d stayed.”
“Doesn’t he usually sleep in the bunkhouse?”
“Yes, but this summer we’ve had all we can do to find enough grass for the herds. He only came in to meet you.” Burch scrutinized Sibyl’s face but could find no indication of more than superficial interest in Jesse’s whereabouts. He sat down to the table unaware of his embryonic jealousy.
“Go ahead, or everything will get cold.”
Burch made rapid inroads into the pile of pancakes and sausages. “Where’s your aunt?” he asked, washing down a mouthful with strong, hot coffee.
“I let her sleep,” she said, rigorously repressing her own ripening jealousy. “There’s a lot to do today, and she never spares herself.”
“You don’t either.”
“I’m younger, and besides I never get tired.”
He regarded her remark skeptically but let it pass. “What are you going to do today?” he asked, beginning on the ham.
“I’d like to begin with the parlor, but there’s not a single chair or table to put in it.”
“There might be something around here. A few things arrived after Aunt Ada died, but Uncle never bothered to unpack them.”
“Where would they be?” she asked eagerly.
“I don’t know. Look in the attic or the barns. We stored a lot of stuff in the sheds while the house was being built. In any case, there’s not much, not like what you’re used to.”
“Daddy wasn’t rich. He hated to spend money on clothes or the house, so we were actually poor in that way.”
“What did your father do?” he asked, finding he enjoyed talking to her like this.
“He taught college, but that was only because he had to. His real interest was in developing new breeds of plants and animals that would help make Virginia farmers prosperous again.”
“That was an ambitious task to take on alone.”
“Daddy never considered that. He and Mama were born on plantations that never recovered after the war. He felt the cause lay in the lack of scientific agricultural methods and plain wasteful habits as much as depending on one crop.”
“You seem to know a lot about his work.”
She smiled. “It was all I heard from the time I was old enough to sit at the table. I don’t think we ever had a conversation that wasn’t dominated by Daddy’s experiments.”
“Was he successful?”
“Very much so, but that was probably his greatest misfortune, because even after years of work, the farmers showed no interest in his results. One man accepted a bushel of a new strain of oats Daddy developed, but when Daddy visited the man later to see how the crop turned out, he told Daddy he had fed it to the horses.”
“Your poor father.”
“That did lower his enthusiasm for a while, but Daddy never really liked people very much so, after that, he worked just to please himself and was much happier.”
Burch laughed. “Did you help with his work?”
“Not the experiments.” She got up to pour him another cup of coffee. “Daddy spent all his time teaching and thinking up his next project, so
Burch’s attention was gradually drawn to the quiet repose of Sibyl’s face. This was how she was meant to be, he thought, not the snapping, snarling alley cat of the last two days. He would discover some way to get past her defenses, for he had decided in that moment she must be his.
He took a deep breath and announced his presence with a cheerful, “Morning.”
Sibyl nearly threw a plate of sausages into the air. “You startled me,” she said crossly, and men remembered her resolution to be pleasant to him no matter what the provocation. Both of them broke into hesitant smiles.
“I’m not so foolish as to intentionally scare anyone willing to fix me this kind of breakfast. Jesse is going to wish he’d stayed.”
“Doesn’t he usually sleep in the bunkhouse?”
“Yes, but this summer we’ve had all we can do to find enough grass for the herds. He only came in to meet you.” Burch scrutinized Sibyl’s face but could find no indication of more than superficial interest in Jesse’s whereabouts. He sat down to the table unaware of his embryonic jealousy.
“Go ahead, or everything will get cold.”
Burch made rapid inroads into the pile of pancakes and sausages. “Where’s your aunt?” he asked, washing down a mouthful with strong, hot coffee.
“I let her sleep,” she said, rigorously repressing her own ripening jealousy. “There’s a lot to do today, and she never spares herself.”
“You don’t either.”
“I’m younger, and besides I never get tired.”
He regarded her remark skeptically but let it pass. “What are you going to do today?” he asked, beginning on the ham.
“I’d like to begin with the parlor, but there’s not a single chair or table to put in it.”
“There might be something around here. A few things arrived after Aunt Ada died, but Uncle never bothered to unpack them.”
“Where would they be?” she asked eagerly.
“I don’t know. Look in the attic or the barns. We stored a lot of stuff in the sheds while the house was being built. In any case, there’s not much, not like what you’re used to.”
“Daddy wasn’t rich. He hated to spend money on clothes or the house, so we were actually poor in that way.”
“What did your father do?” he asked, finding he enjoyed talking to her like this.
“He taught college, but that was only because he had to. His real interest was in developing new breeds of plants and animals that would help make Virginia farmers prosperous again.”
“That was an ambitious task to take on alone.”
“Daddy never considered that. He and Mama were born on plantations that never recovered after the war. He felt the cause lay in the lack of scientific agricultural methods and plain wasteful habits as much as depending on one crop.”
“You seem to know a lot about his work.”
She smiled. “It was all I heard from the time I was old enough to sit at the table. I don’t think we ever had a conversation that wasn’t dominated by Daddy’s experiments.”
“Was he successful?”
“Very much so, but that was probably his greatest misfortune, because even after years of work, the farmers showed no interest in his results. One man accepted a bushel of a new strain of oats Daddy developed, but when Daddy visited the man later to see how the crop turned out, he told Daddy he had fed it to the horses.”
“Your poor father.”
“That did lower his enthusiasm for a while, but Daddy never really liked people very much so, after that, he worked just to please himself and was much happier.”
Burch laughed. “Did you help with his work?”
“Not the experiments.” She got up to pour him another cup of coffee. “Daddy spent all his time teaching and thinking up his next project, so
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