Ozark Sweetheart Read online

  When Callie braked to a stop in front of her home, he detected a reluctance to have the ride end. He shared it. They faced each other, and both started to speak. But the sound of a slamming door interrupted them. They looked around to see an angry little sister stalking toward them from the mill where Mr. Blake was loading lumber onto the wagon Callie had used and returned that morning. Clem wore a glower that made Callie sigh aloud. She started to get out. “I may as well see what bee’s under her bonnet.”

  “So you sicced the marshal on us. Some sister you are,” Clem shouted, blocking the door.

  “No, I didn’t,” Callie denied her accusation.

  This little sister must be as rowdy as he had heard. “Why do you think she did that?” he asked, inserting himself into the conversation.

  Clem glared at him, arms raised and hands clenched. “He came over here to talk to me and Delmer.”

  He looked at her wrists. “You don’t seem to be under arrest.”

  He thought he detected a tiny twitch in the corner of Callie’s mouth.

  Clem looked from him to Callie, and then back. “What are you doing here?”

  “Giving your sister a ride home.”

  “Hmph. That thing at the school ended two hours ago. Where you been?”

  “It’s none of your business,” Callie snapped. “But we had to store the leftover stuff. What did the marshal talk to you about?”

  Clem tossed her head and tilted her nose. “He said Delmer should stay out of sight. He said I should stay home more, too, but it’s none of his business where I go or what I do.”

  “It is if you hang around where you shouldn’t be and do things you shouldn’t do. And I didn’t have to tell him anything about you. He knows everything that goes on around here.”

  That statement seemed to give the girl a jolt. She turned and flounced away.

  Callie sighed again and gave him an apologetic look. “I should—”

  “Would you like to go for a walk?”

  Chapter 7

  She would love it, but the idea was foolish. The knowledge didn’t stop her, though. She eyed his casual clothing and couldn’t prevent a grin. “You up to hiking in the woods?” She hopped to the ground.

  “You bet.” He got out and met her in front of the truck.

  Callie forced herself to be calm, not let his nearness make a complete ninny of her. “You’re welcome to come inside while I change clothes. It’ll only take a couple of minutes.”

  “I’ll wait for you here. No point disturbing your family.”

  She ran into the house, did an extra speedy change into the overalls she wore for farm chores or frogging and ran back outside without speaking to anyone. Trace knelt by her mother’s late-blooming black-eyed Susans, pulling weeds from around the stems. He turned at her approach, and grinned. “Those overalls sure look better on you than your brothers.”

  Callie ignored the comment and headed across the yard. “Come on.”

  He caught up with her as she struck out for the east pasture. She led him through a wooden gate that was wide enough for the tractor to drive through and tramped through the field of cornstalks.

  “Where are we going?”

  “For a walk. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  He chuckled. “I didn’t expect you to walk my legs off.”

  At the far side of the timber-bordered field they crossed the fence and entered the woods onto a barely visible footpath. She pointed at the lane they passed. “The Lonigans live up there.”

  He surveyed their surroundings. “Do you think they have a still back here?”

  “They did, but I suspect they’ve moved it again.” She didn’t explain that Clem and Delmer had probably helped them do it.

  “So we’re looking for the new location of their still.”

  She nodded while peering ahead, debating which way to go.

  “Do you know where you’re going?”

  She turned to face him. “Nope. But I figure if we loop around behind their place we’re bound to find something.” She took off again.

  “Ah, gotcha,” he said to her back.

  They plowed on through the woods, pushing back branches when necessary. When they emerged into a clearing, she studied the ground. “Here’s where it was.”

  He peered where she pointed. “I see what you mean. The ground is disturbed, and they left behind some debris.” He picked up a piece of tubing and a strip of wood that looked like a piece from a barrel stave.

  Callie studied the lay of the land. Then she set out again, still heading east.

  They passed an unused road that had grass growing down the center of it. Then they hiked for about a quarter of a mile parallel to Deer Creek until a thick stand of brush caught her attention. They fought branches and worked their way inside the area to an open space. It held a still.

  A flat tin roof had been laid over a crude pole frame. Barrels of various sizes sat in a haphazard cluster. A cooker held place of honor at the right front of the shelter. To one side Callie spotted a rough board bench. She couldn’t imagine drinking anything, let alone alcohol, that had been made in these unsanitary conditions.

  Trace whistled. “Leon needs to know about this.”

  Callie faced him, a hand under her nose to block the smell. “I’ll leave that to you.”

  He studied her expression. “Would you prefer that I not mention your part in finding it?”

  She shrugged and grimaced, realizing that he understood. “They’re my neighbors.”

  “I’ll stop by his place on my way home.”

  They left the thicket, and Callie pointed ahead. “Let’s loop around that way. It’s smoother ground for walking, and we’ll make better time.”

  “Are you in a hurry?” he asked without breaking pace.

  She slowed a little. “I guess not. But there’s always work I could be doing to help Mom.”

  “You work very hard, don’t you?”

  She shrugged. “My dad says ‘them that don’t work don’t eat.’” She huffed out her chest and imitated his gruff manner and deep voice the best she could.

  Trace’s hearty chuckle made her heart sing. “The Bible does say something like that. But I bet your parents would like for you to relax once in a while.”

  She stole a peek at him, the butterflies in her stomach addling her. She had had a little-girl crush on him from the age of seven. But she had gotten older, recognized it for the hero worship it had been and gotten over it. Now those feelings had resurrected full-blown.

  Stop. He has his life. I have mine.

  Hollowness filled her middle at the picture of her future—alone. She concentrated on their surroundings, the cloudless sky, and the woods from which they had just emerged.

  “I guess you’ll be picking this soon.” Trace indicated the rows of cornstalks.

  “Probably next week, according to Dad.”

  “The work your family does is a lot more physical than selling cars.”

  Callie turned a mischievous look on him. “You look healthy enough.”

  He flexed his biceps. “Selling cars doesn’t make me strong, but working on them does.”

  She feigned astonishment. “You mean you can make the things run? I don’t believe it.”

  His eyes locked on her, and suddenly the mirth in them changed, became electric. His healthy good looks made her mouth go dry and her breath catch. She resumed motion with a bound, lunging forward and plowing her way through the stalks at a near-run.

  When they broke into the open, Callie caught her breath. Beside her, Trace showed no signs of fatigue. They had come out farther down the road than their starting point. They started to cross the fence to walk up the road the final hundred yards to the house.

  Trace pushed th
e bottom strand of barbed wire down with his foot and pulled the middle one up with his hands. Callie stooped and lifted a foot to step through the opening. But a sound made her stop.

  They both looked up to see a black car coming up the road.

  Fear struck Callie like a bolt of lightning.

  Please, no, Lord.

  Trace released the strand of wire and glanced around. “Here you are, dressed like a boy, out in the open, and no bonnet.”

  The tense edge in his voice stabbed Callie with guilt. She didn’t protest when he grabbed her hand and practically dragged her back into the corn patch. They worked their way into the stalks enough to crouch and peer out without being seen.

  “Be still so the leaves don’t move and draw attention,” he whispered next to her ear.

  Heart thumping, Callie peered out at the road. As the car puttered nearer, she held her breath. Then let it out in a long whoosh of relief when she recognized Pastor Denlow behind the wheel. “He must have traded cars. That’s newer than the one he usually drives. Or maybe it’s his brother’s.”

  They both got up. Callie brushed at her dusty pant legs.

  Trace looked behind them. “Why don’t we go around through those woods and come up behind your house?”

  “I’ll beat you there.” Callie set out at a run. She didn’t have to look around to know Trace was right behind her. Making no effort to be quiet, they circled around the field and came out just below the barn.

  For a few stolen moments Callie let herself feel carefree and pushed away thoughts of threatening men and dangerous stills. God had given them this beautiful afternoon to enjoy. It would be a shame to waste it. She dashed across the barn lot and through the gate. Then she locked it and darted away before Trace caught up with her.

  “You can’t escape me, Callie.”

  Hearing him clamber over the wooden gate and drop to the ground, she veered to the left and ran past the smaller of the two sawdust piles. She stopped and listened for footsteps, but didn’t hear any. Suddenly Trace came running around the other side of the pile.

  “Gotcha.” He grabbed her arms and tumbled them back onto the soft heap of sawdust. Fragrant when fresh, it was far less pungent now.

  Callie squealed and pushed at his chest. “Let me up, you big goon.” She shifted sideways and twisted away from him. Then she scooted backward like an ungraceful crab.

  Instead of pursuing her, Trace threw his hands over his head and flopped backward onto the sawdust. Callie drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, drinking in the sight of him as he worked his arms up and down like a bird flapping its wings. She grinned. “You look like a big kid making snow angels, only without any snow.”

  He went still and stared up into the sky. “I feel like one.”

  His voice held a quality that Callie couldn’t quite interpret, an odd vulnerability. “You probably don’t take time to play very often. Or you’ve forgotten how.” She leaned her chin on her knees.

  He turned his head, and his pupils darkened as their gazes met. The world seemed to shrink until there were only the two of them in it. His eyes traveled over her features one at a time. “You’re good for me, Callie. You offer me friendship without consideration for what I can give you. That’s rare.”

  Heart thudding, Callie didn’t know quite how to respond. “Maybe we both need that kind of friendship,” she breathed uncertainly.

  He sat up and scooted closer, way too close, his gaze riveted on her. He reached for her hand, his gaze intensifying. Awareness pulsed between them as he gave the hand a light squeeze. Callie read in his expression that he felt it, too.

  With his free hand he nudged her chin up, bringing their faces within inches of each other, so close she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. Her insides quivered like jelly.

  He trailed a finger along the line of her lips, his breath making her cheek tingle. Callie couldn’t think, couldn’t get her breath. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, woozy from the rush of anticipation and pleasure that flowed through her with the force of an avalanche.

  Suddenly he went still, as if struck by a dash of cold reality. Breathing quickly, he released her hand and literally threw himself back onto the soft bed of sawdust. Eye contact broken, he stared up at the clouds drifting across the sky.

  “I don’t have a good history with women,” he said, as if speaking to himself.

  Cheeks flushed, Callie eased back and put a few more inches between them. “Your first fiancée didn’t see you as someone to give her things, did she? I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “If we’re friends, you don’t have to apologize for asking questions that rise from something I said.” He spoke without looking over at her. But it wasn’t a rude ignoring. It was more like he was taking a long look back at his past. “Joanna was sweet and wholesome. And she loved me.”

  “And you loved her.”

  He expelled a heavy sigh and spoke to the clouds. “We knew by our second date that we were meant for each other. We also knew we were too young to get that serious.”

  “I knew that,” Callie said quietly. “I used to see you together sometimes when my parents took us all to town on Saturdays. Joanna was a very pretty girl.”

  She remembered watching them from a distance and envying Joanna Michaels. Joanna had been bright and popular, perfect for Trace, something she, Callie, would never be.

  “I gave her a ring a year after we graduated from high school.” His words slowed. “She wore it for a year and a half. One day two months before our wedding date I had just come home from a three-day meeting in Saint Louis, and her brother came to the house. When he asked me to come outside, I knew by his manner that something was wrong, but I couldn’t have imagined how wrong. The first thing he did was hand me a ring box and explain that Joanna had asked him to return it to me. I was too stunned to even ask why.”

  Callie listened in silence, sensing that he needed to talk about this, that it had been buried inside him for a long time.

  After several moments, he continued, “I couldn’t understand. After I absorbed the shock a little bit I made Jesse tell me why he was delivering it. He said Joanna was sick. She had scarlet fever, and their house had been quarantined. He wasn’t home when it happened, so he was staying with a friend. His mother had called, crying, and said she was leaving the ring on the porch for him to pick up and bring to me. Joanna had made her do it. Said she wanted me to have it. I still do,” he finished.

  “It’s been, what, five years?” Callie could hardly speak, her heart aching for him. She had still been in high school, but she remembered the mourning of the town.

  “Yeah.” He swallowed. “She died a few days later. I never saw her again.”

  Callie cleared her throat past the surge of emotion. “I don’t understand why God allows suffering, but I know He loves us and doesn’t torture us for any unloving reason. I also know we can find comfort in the word of God, that sorrow can bring us closer to Him. Jesus said, ‘Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’”

  He raked a hand over his eyes. “I was bitter and did some things I’m not proud of. I ignored God and quit going to church. I couldn’t pray. I didn’t care what happened to me.”

  He turned his head and looked right at Callie. “I eventually became so desperate that I talked to the pastor. He helped me see that I will never understand, that I have no choice but to accept and go on with my life, and that God never left me when I left Him. But I refused to associate with women, thinking that part of my life was over.”

  “Until your parents pressured you.”

  “You know how my second engagement ended.” His tone went flat, and he stared up into space again.

  He seemed to retreat to somewhere she couldn’t follow. But after
a long pause he turned his head toward her again. The hollow look in his eyes gradually faded. Then a ghost of a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I have an idea, if you’re willing to make a deal.”

  Callie straightened her knees and leaned back on her hands, not sure what to expect. “Let me hear it.”

  “I’ll clean up and organize that room at the business, build some shelves and racks, so you can operate your swap shop out of there. I’ll even talk to the town board and encourage members to donate goods for you to distribute to those who need them.”

  Callie tilted her head. “And what do I have to do for you in exchange?”

  All hint of a smile disappeared. “Some of those goods need to get to Joanna’s parents. The Michaelses have suffered from losing Joanna, and they haven’t been doing well since the economy got so bad. Jesse has a family of his own that he’s struggling to support.”

  The tightening in her chest made it hard for Callie to respond. “Of course I’ll do that. But are you sure about letting us use your space?”

  “I’m sure.” The declaration rang with certainty.

  “What will your dad say?”

  Trace sat up. “He encourages civic involvement, and he’s gradually turning the business over to me. So it’s my decision regarding the building. The other item we discussed is a private matter.”

  Callie reached down and tugged off a shoe. “I think Joanna would be pleased to know that you keep an eye on her parents.”

  Silence reigned for a long moment. “Do you think she knows?”

  Callie nodded and shook sawdust from the shoe. “I think so. Moses and Elijah came down from heaven and met with Jesus and some of His disciples. Some people believe that, since they knew one another, people in heaven know what’s going on down here on earth. I agree.”

  He stared upward into the heavens, a muscle in his jaw moving. “I find that comforting. Thank you for the thought.”

  Callie started to put the shoe back on, but then changed her mind. Instead, she pulled off the other one and wiggled her toes in the sawdust.