"I should never have agreed to be floor supervisor," Jack grumbled as she sifted through the last of the stack of folders Walter Cartwright had left her to review before leaving the factory for the night.
The mirky glow of twilight was falling, and still Jack was at the factory with only a candle to light her way since gas lamps were far too risky with all the explosives in the factory. The factory had a few electric lights, enough to illuminate the women's work, but for the sake of keeping costs down, Cartwright preferred to use natural light instead. That was why huge windows lined each wall--to let sunlight in, as well as warmth and fresh air during the summer months. In the winter, however, the women had to choose between freezing air that could freeze off their fingers or breathing in the toxic fumes from the TNT. Jack would rather freeze, she decided.
"Done!" she declared aloud to herself as she lifted the stack of the folders in her arm, carefully balancing them so she wouldn't trip and have to reorder the many shipment orders she'd reviewed. Her boots echoed on the floor as she walked across the factory floor to the narrow stairs that led to the separate office building, heated by a coal stove and fully insulated for the comfort of Mr. Cartwright, his business associates, and the secretaries he employed.
"Perhaps I should have become a secretary," Jack mumbled under her breath as she jogged up the stairs. When she reached the top, she balanced the stack of papers and turned the doorknob with her elbow.
The office was empty and dark, all of its inhabitants home with their families for the evening, and Jack tripped over a crate as she went. She hopped the rest of the way to the desk and deposited the files, flying out the door and into the early evening.
Only a few thin clouds marred the serene sunset sky, fire and lavender marked in sharp strata. Jack paused for a moment beside her bicycle, discarded behind the women's building, and studied the sky. Her spirit lifted as her gaze traced the panorama around her, and she spun in a slow circle, a satisfied smile creeping across her face.
Oh, hang it all, she thought. I can't be angry when the world has so much beauty to offer. Jack placed one foot on the closest pedal and both hands on the handlebars and swung herself onto the bike, her petticoats fluttering as she began to fly down the road. The artistry of the scenery fueled her weary muscles.
Home loomed before her only a few minutes later, and even Theodore the donkey's corpulent figure looked poetic silhouetted against the majestic sunsight. Jack laughed at the thought and hopped off her bike. As she walked the rest of the way to her house, she spared a glance at the Bookers and wondered for not the first time about Donovan.
How long would he stay here? It had only been a few days since their unexpected meeting and the dinner that had followed, and already that day felt like something of a dream. Jack had spent so long disregarding those who didn't choose to look beyond her outer facade that she had not expected to find a friend is such an unlikely fellow, yet she had. And now she wondered how long he would spend in the town of Irvington. His Model T was still in the Bookers' front yard, so he was still here at least, and they would probably meet again--they were temporary neighbors, after all.
The distressed bleating of a goat interrupted Jack's aimless speculations, and she turned to find her most troublesome barnyard animal, Lawrence, munching on grass in her front yard instead of in the fenced pasture where he belonged.
His eyes were round and rolled back in his head as he bawled, casting mournful eyes towards the four goats still enclosed in the pasture.
"Lawrence, you rascal!" Jack cried, throwing down her bike and her bag with fury. "Not again."
Though Jack loved to garden, she was not much of a farmer when it came to animal husbandry. She loved her livestock too much and they knew it, so they got away with just about everything because she refused to punish them for their misbehavior, much less sell or eat them. And Lawrence was the worst of the lot.
"Come here, Laurie," she said, extending her hand to the goat and bending slightly to make herself look less menacing. "Come on, sugar. Let me get you home."
Jack held her breath as she took a halting step forward--she was almost in reach of his curving tawny horns. But Lawrence was well aware of this, and just as Jack lunged towards him, he bolted in the opposite direction, his hooves clattering on a nearby rock. Jack's lunge landed her face first in the dirt, legs sprawled behind her and dirt speckling on her muslin dress.
"Blast you, you rotten goat!" Jack yelled after him. "I have half a mind to come after you with my shotgun!"
"Is this how you treat all creatures of the male variety that trespass on your property?"
The voice surprised Jack and she scrambled to her feet, her dress in a tangle about her legs and her hair falling in loose waves. She spun around and was only partially surprised to find Donovan watching her with that same bemused expression. He leaned against the tying post in Jack's front yard, his plain shirt rolled to the elbows and a stalk of wheat hanging from his lips. His onyx hair fell loose today, straight and smooth past his shoulders. It changed the sharp structure of his face, making him look younger and leaner.
Jack straightened her dress and frowned at him for a moment, disconcerted and pleased by his presence at the same time. "Only rascals like that Lawrence."
"Lawrence?" Donovan asked with a raise of his eyebrows. He removed the wheat from his mouth and tossed it on the ground, standing straight.
"My goat," Jack exclaimed, gesturing to the miscreant creature who grazed harmlessly a few yards away. "He escaped his fence again, and he's a bugger to catch."
"Need some help?" he asked with an easy smile.
It was Jack's turned to express surprise. "You? You're a...a lawyer!"
Donovan threw his head back and laughed, and the sound delighted Jack, low and rough and rippling. "Yes, I am, but I grew up on a reservation and we raised sheep and goats. You're not the only one with a few surprises in their past, Miss Jack," he said and Jack smiled at the way he used her nickname.
"Well, I'd be grateful for the help," Jack confessed, "for Lawrence is an ornery beast."
"Well then. We'll force him into the barn," Donovan said, coming to stand next to Jack and gesturing the open door and the sagging barn. "And then he'll be easy prey."
Jack cocked her head and looked up at him, a smile merry in her eyes. "You're sure you've done this before? I assure it won't be quite so easy."
Donovan clutched his chest. "You doubt me, Miss Jack?"
"Well, your hands are awful soft--perhaps you've grown unaccustomed to physical labor," Jack said, gesturing to his soft hands, free of the calluses grown into Jack's.
Donovan opened his hand and turned the palm up and they both studied it for a moment, the worn lines and the smooth skin. "I suppose you're right. I acquiesce; you're a harder worker than I am."
Jack flushed under the praise and opened her own hand next to his--her hands were riddled with cuts and bruises and even a healing burn from the TNT, and calluses formed under her knuckles. Hers were the hardened hands of a laborer, nothing like the soft pale hands of the women with whom Donovan must associate.
But rather than laughing at Jack's scars, Donovan lifted her hands with his, keeping her palms facing up. Jack started at his touch, and he studied her hands for a moment while her eyes flew to his face. What in tarnation is he doing?
But he offered no explanation, the same bemused smile on his face. "These are the hands of a woman who's seen much of the world," he murmured as much to himself as to her. "I quite admire that, Miss Jack," he said as he looked at her again, removing his hands from hers.
Jack's hands dropped to her side, her fingers tingling from the familiar touch and she wished she could hide the blush forming in her cheeks. Get ahold of yourself, woman. No man admires a woman as worn and weathered as you.
"Shall we catch a runaway goat?" Donovan said, breaking the tenuous silence between them with a smile, and Jack felt her worries fade away.
"We can try," Jack said, and the two approached the delinquent Lawrence who munched on a crop of clover.
Donovan and Jack separated, each taking one side of the goat in order to force him towards the barn door. Lawrence continued to eat, but he watched the two advancing humans out of the corner of his eye, and Jack knew he was ready to dart as soon as they grew closer to him. She glanced at Donovan and started to smile at the dignified gentleman crouched over and chasing a goat, eyes intent.
"Ready?" he whispered.
Jack gave a jaunty nod and they both rushed forward at the same time. Bleating his taunting laughter, however, Lawrence darted between them, jogging closer to Jack's house and farther from the barn. Donovan staggered forward, nearly falling from his unsuccessful attempt at grasping the creature, and he barely managed to right himself before tumbling into the dirt. He let out a laugh and they both turned to chase after Lawrence, who was making a beeline towards Jack's beloved garden.
"Don't you dare eat my tomatoes, Lawrence!" Jack cried, sprinting after the animal as he lifted his bearded head towards the fresh green leaves.
When Lawrence saw Jack and Donovan barrelling towards him, he darted away again before Jack could even get close enough to attempt capture.
"Perhaps bribery is in order," Donovan suggested, his chest heaving as he sucked in a breath. "I hear goats are rather fond of apples."
Jack sighed and shrugged her soldiers, casting a mournful glance at her blossoming apple trees. "I suppose it's time to surrender," she said, plucking a crimson apple from the tree and offering to Lawrence.
The goat trotted after Jack, following her all the way back to the barn in pursuit of the delicious treat, and once he finally entered the barn, Donovan slammed the door shut behind them both and Jack forced Lawrence the goat back into the pen, offering the apple as a peace treaty.
Once Jack had locked the door and offered Theodore an affectionate pat, she turned around to look at Donovan with a flushed face and blonde hair hanging in loose torrents about her face, no longer held in its original neat braid.
Donovan leaned against the barn's half door on his elbows, studying Jack with a smile. She joined him so they faced each other across the door, both of their faces florid from chasing after the goat.
"Thank you for helping," Jack said.
"It was my pleasure, Miss Jack."
"Just Jack, please. I don't like to consider myself an old maid."
"Jack, then," he returned, the sun glinting in his near-black eyes. "I'm happy to help. I'm happy the Bookers have such a neighbor in you, Jack."
"I'm lucky to have them," Jack confessed. "They actually own this house and let me rent it from them. I rather like living here, out of the city and the gossip and all."
"Irvington, it's a nice city, then?" Donovan asked, turning his squinted eyes in the direction of the small town.
"I suppose, for a small town in the south," Jack said with a wry smile. "I've lived here most of my life, so I don't know any different." Jack studied him for a minute, his fine, smooth features and sharp eyes. "Do you plan on staying here for a while, Mr. Donovan?" Jack asked, his name tasting like fresh honeysuckle on her tongue.
"If I can call you Jack, you have to call me Donovan." Jack wanted to ask if that was his first or last name, but she didn't want to overwhelm him with her curiosity. He sighed, sagging against his elbows. "I don't know how long I'll be here, to be honest with you, but I won't be leaving immediately. Are you eager to be rid of me, Jack?"
Jack started, standing to her full height with her eyebrows raised. "Why, no, of course not! I'm glad you're here--er, you should stay as long as you wish, of course. It's of no consequence to me--" Jack stopped when she saw the twinkle in Donovan's jet black eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "You hooligan, teasing me so!"
Donovan threw his head back and laughed, and again Jack revelled in the sound--open and free, from such a guarded person.
"I take it you won't mind if I stay a while longer?" he asked when he'd recovered from the bout of hilarity.
"Of course not," Jack said. "But if you plan on staying, you should come into town some day and meet some of the better Irvington folk. I could take you some day when I'm not working--give you a tour, if you'd like."
Donovan smiled at her. "I'd like that very much, Jack."
"Fine, then. Saturday?"
"Saturday it is." He stood to his full height and nodded his head at her. "I'll see you then. Have a good night, Jack." And a good night it was.
What do you think of Donovan? Do you have a favorite farm animal? I have always loved sheep since I raised them when I was a kid.