Ilsa: Read online

  Ilsa knew he was trying to cheer her up, but her mortification at breaking all the eggs, screaming like a sissy, and having more than a dozen men witness the spectacle made it impossible for her to drum up even the smallest smile.

  “Oh, Ilsa,” Aundy said, trying hard not to smile as she carefully put her hands on her sister’s shoulders and turned her toward the house, knocking eggshells out of her hair as they walked. Garrett winked at his wife and a giggle escaped. Soon everyone was laughing.

  Ilsa glared at Aundy then marched herself around the house to the kitchen door.

  Mad at her sister for laughing and the rest of them for joining in, Ilsa stamped her foot and dislodged a flurry of eggshells on Aundy’s clean floor. Yanking her apron over her head, more broken shells and slimy yolks dislodged themselves from her head.

  Hearing the back door shut behind her, she let her temper have free rein.

  “How could you? It’s bad enough I made a fool of myself, but you set off all the laughter. It’s just mean.”

  The sound of a muffled laugh made her even angrier. Trying to reach behind her back to undo the buttons of her dress, she needed to take a bath and have a fresh start to this awful day. It wasn’t even yet six in the morning.

  “Don’t stand there like a hysterical ninny. Help me get out of this,” she ordered, resisting the urge to stamp her foot again. She felt fingers working at the buttons of her dress but the musky, masculine scent that reached her nose made her fully aware Aundy didn’t stand behind her.

  Spinning around, she looked into the smirking face of Tony Campanelli.

  “You!”

  “Me,” he said, in a husky, low voice. Although his mouth still turned up in a smile, his eyes burned like a golden fire as they bore into hers. “Let me help you, chickadee.”

  So discombobulated by his presence, she didn’t even notice the name he called her. He stepped behind her and quickly finished with the buttons, then pressed his hot lips to the back of her neck.

  A shiver wracked through her entire body while Ilsa experienced a flood of emotions. With the way he sent fiery tendrils curling through her body by touching his mouth to her neck, she wondered what it would feel like if he kissed her on the lips.

  Grabbing onto her sense, despite her lack of composure, she turned to face Tony again.

  “This is completely inappropriate and thoroughly unacceptable, Mr. Campanelli,” Ilsa said, drawing herself up to her full five feet of height. She had to or the buttons Tony had undone would let her dress fall away from her shoulders. “What were you thinking?”

  “That you needed some help. You obviously had a little problem with the eggs this morning.” He tried unsuccessfully to hold back his amusement. A chuckle penetrated the tension crackling through the kitchen.

  Hearing it, Ilsa glared at him for a second before smacking his arm. No wonder Caterina felt the need to hit him repeatedly. The man was utterly exasperating and maddening.

  Tony took a step back, glad Ilsa was finally coming to life. He hadn’t meant to provoke her to this point of irritation, though. Fury rode her face and she clenched her small little hands into fists. He knew she couldn’t hurt him, but the venomous look she shot his direction said she was willing to try.

  “Aundy sent me out to gather the eggs. The process isn’t quite as simple as it seemed in theory,” Ilsa huffed, putting her hand up to her hair and bringing it away with another egg yolk.

  Her look of disgust along with her wrinkled nose was Tony’s undoing. He began laughing so hard he could barely stand up.

  “Oh! I hate those stupid chickens and I hate you!” Ilsa yelled. Spinning around, she rushed out of the kitchen and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

  “Well, I guess she told you.” Garrett walked inside with Aundy. They’d started to open the door just as Ilsa marched out of the room.

  “I tried so hard not to laugh,” Tony said, wiping his eyes and taking a deep breath. When he looked at Garrett, the two of them broke out in laughter all over again. He heard Aundy’s merriment joining with theirs and knew Ilsa would be furious with them all.

  “We’ve got to stop.” Aundy lifted a corner of her apron to dry her eyes. “She’ll never forgive us if we don’t.”

  “Agreed.” Garrett leaned back and stared at the ceiling until he could get control of himself. “But it was about the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “And the egg shells in her hair,” Tony said around a chuckle.

  Soon the three of them were sitting at the table, unable to stand upright as laughter overtook them again.

  “This time, we must stop. I need to cook breakfast and if you two keep it up, I’ll never get it done. Go on outside and leave me in peace to clean up the mess,” Aundy said, getting to her feet and picking up the broom. Eggshells crunched underfoot as the men walked out the door.

  Hurrying to clean the floor, Aundy washed her hands then went down the hall and tapped on the bathroom door. “Ilsa? Do you need anything?” Aundy felt more subdued now that she’d gotten the laughter out of her system. At least until the men started at it again.

  “If you could bring me my wrapper, I’d appreciate it,” Ilsa said, still angry and humiliated. She’d heard the gales of uncontrollable laughter coming from the kitchen and it only made her more aggravated.

  Aundy should have known sending her out to gather the eggs would end badly. Her adventures in being brave and bold, at least where chickens were concerned, were over.

  Standing in front of the mirror, swathed in a soft towel that smelled like sunshine, she ran a comb through her damp hair and studied her reflection.

  Big blue eyes, still bright with fury, stared back at her. Sticking out her tongue at the face in the mirror, she felt a little of her good humor return. Ilsa supposed there probably was some amusement in what transpired between her and the chickens.

  Feeling the corner of her mouth quirk up in a smile at the vision she must have made, she quickly schooled her face into a scowl when Aundy tapped on the door and stuck her head inside.

  “Here you go,” she said, opening the door wider and holding out the wrapper Ilsa requested.

  “Thank you.” Ilsa took it from Aundy and turned her back, slipping it on and letting the towel fall to the floor. Bending over, she picked it up along with the one she’d used to dry her hair and wrapped her egg-splattered clothes in the towels.

  “Let me take that.” Aundy grabbed the bundle from Ilsa and started out the door. Before she walked into the hall, she glanced over her shoulder with a look Ilsa thought appeared to be somewhat remorseful. “I’m sorry we got so carried away with the laughter. I know it hurt your feelings and I apologize.”

  “Apology accepted.” Ilsa nodded to Aundy. Hearing her sister’s footsteps walk toward the kitchen, Ilsa went to her room and dressed for the second time that morning in one of the few plain cotton dresses she owned.

  She supposed with the embellishments around the hem and along the bodice, that most people wouldn’t consider it plain. At least this one hooked up the side beneath her arm so she wasn’t at the mercy of someone else unfastening the buttons in the back.

  Thinking of who unfastened the buttons on her soiled dress made her feel hot, clammy, and lightheaded.

  She’d checked in the mirror before she dressed to make sure Tony hadn’t seared her skin with his lips. The spot where he pressed them still tingled, even after her bath. His scent somehow lingered in her nose, leaving her agitated and unsettled.

  He was an arrogant charmer and entirely too full of himself for his own good. He was definitely too full of himself for her own good.

  Remembering how those honey-colored eyes flamed with something she couldn’t even put into words, she felt wobbly-kneed all over again.

  Trying to chase thoughts of Tony from her mind, she brushed her hair and pinned it, gave herself one final critical look in her mirror, and hurried to the kitchen to help Aundy.

  No mention of the chicken
s occurred while she helped peel potatoes and wash vegetables. When Nora arrived mid-morning, she came in carrying a basket of eggs. Ilsa helped her bring in two cakes and a kettle full of baked beans cooked with chunks of bacon and onion.

  The wonderful aromas from the food made Ilsa’s stomach growl. Between her mishap with the chickens and scurrying around to help Aundy, she missed breakfast.

  Pouring herself a glass of milk, she took a couple of cookies out of a basket and munched them while she followed Nora’s direction for cutting up cabbages for a cold salad.

  Watching Aundy swipe perspiration off her forehead as she stood at the stove frying what seemed like a hundred doughnuts, she felt a mixture of admiration and pity for her sister.

  Although Aundy appeared to love everything about ranching and farming, Ilsa thought she lived a life of unending labor. Her sister worked every bit as hard as the men did on the ranch, rising before dawn and staying up after the sun set for the evening.

  Despite the stifling heat in the kitchen, Aundy stood over the hot stove making the men a treat they’d consume in minutes without a thought to all the work that went into preparing it.

  That was one of the reasons Ilsa loved making beautiful clothes. Not only were they lasting, but also the women who wore them fully appreciated the effort and skill that went into creating the designs.

  “Ilsa, if you can carry the basket of cookies, Nora will take the doughnuts and I’ll get the cold tea on our way out to the buggy,” Aundy said, rushing out the door.

  Picking up the large basket of cookies, Ilsa watched as Nora lifted the paper-lined box of doughnuts and motioned for her to go out the door. “Those men will be watching for us,” Nora said, walking across the yard toward the buggy Aundy drove their direction from the barn.

  “While I get the tea, can you please fill a bucket with water and grab the dipper by the pump?” Aundy pointed to the side of the barn.

  Hefting the bucket and pumping it full of water, Ilsa set in the dipper then struggled to carry it over to the buggy. She gratefully relinquished the heavy bucket to her sister when Aundy saw her attempting to make it the last few steps to the back of the buggy.

  “I’ve got it.” Aundy slipped a hand beneath the handle and easily carried it the rest of the way.

  Ilsa felt inferior to her sister, once again. The one and only thing she could do better than Aundy was her sewing.

  Swallowing down her resentment, Ilsa climbed in the buggy next to Nora. Aundy drove it out to the edge of the field where the men worked.

  Nik noticed their approach and waved as he yelled to Garrett, letting him know it was time for a break.

  Men, mules, horses, and machinery came to a halt.

  Ilsa held a scented handkerchief to her nose, waiting for the dust, thick with chaff from the just-cut wheat, to settle. The hulking machines and teams of animals made her feel very small and insignificant.

  “You ladies are a welcome sight,” J.B. said, kissing Nora’s cheek as he took off his gloves and helped himself to a doughnut.

  “For more than one reason.” Garrett winked at Aundy as she handed him a tin cup full of cold tea.

  Drinking it down in one gulp, he handed the cup back to her and she refilled it, giving it to Tony, who stood eating a cookie and staring at Ilsa.

  Feeling his gaze on her, Ilsa willed the heat filling her cheeks to go away, especially when a few of the men asked if she brought out scrambled eggs for them to eat.

  Nik came to her rescue, taking her hand and leading her over to a piece of equipment, hooked to a team with more mules than she’d ever seen in one place in her life.

  “So how does this work?” she asked, not particularly interested, but grateful Nik drew her away from the laughter of the men.

  “This is a combined harvester. That means it does several jobs with just one piece of equipment,” Nik explained, pointing to a broad section of the machine that appeared to mow off the wheat. “The reels pull in the wheat as it travels down the row. See, that’s the header. The cutter removes the top, that’s where you find the kernels of grain. It spins around and cuts off the heads, leaving the stalks behind.” Nik pointed to the already harvested swath behind them. “Then it goes into the thresher unit, that’s this part where the men ride.”

  Ilsa thought it looked like a big box with wood and metal pieces sticking out. She was sure a dozen men could have easily fit inside it.

  “Then what happens?” she asked, staring up at the massive machine.

  “When the kernels of grain are separated from the chaff and anything else that got into the thresher, it shoots out into burlap sacks. The jigger is the man who fills the sacks and the sewer sews them shut. I’m a sewer today.” Nik proudly pointed to a stack of burlap sacks. “When we get about a dozen sacks full, we set them off and a wagon comes along and picks them up. When they get a wagonload, they’re ready to go to the warehouse or the depot.”

  “Why are there so many animals involved?” Ilsa counted thirty mules attached to this particular piece of equipment. She could see five other similar outfits scattered across the vast wheat fields, each attached to mule teams. One of the smaller machines had half a dozen big workhorses pulling it.

  “It takes a lot of power to move the machines. Some of them can weigh many tons, so we need all the mules to make it go,” Nik said, walking Ilsa around the back of the machine to the small platform where the filled sacks rode until they were set off in the field.

  “Why are there so many more mules than horses?” Ilsa watched as the mules stood quietly, seeming to enjoy the break while the men partook of the refreshments Aundy and Nora doled out to them.

  “Horses tend to get sick, develop sores, but the mules will go all day without a problem.” Nik escorted her down the line of harnessed animals to the lead mule. He scratched behind its ears and patted its neck.

  Ilsa refused when he tried to get her to pet it, shaking her head.

  “I’ll admire him from afar,” she said, taking a step back. She thought the mule had a rank odor and wrinkled her nose at the stench.

  “He doesn’t smell like posies, does he?” a rich, masculine voice asked from behind her.

  Not sure if she was ready to face Tony, she kept her eyes glued to the mules. “Posies are not what he brings to mind, not even dead withered ones.”

  Tony laughed and stepped closer to her. Although he smelled of dust and sweat mingled with his unique scent, she didn’t mind. In fact, the heat of his presence permeating her back made gooseflesh ripple down her arms.

  “I see you… um… got the eggshells out of your hair.” He gave her a devilish smile when she glared at him over her shoulder.

  Teasing her was the last thing on his mind. His thoughts ran more toward the line of kissing her senseless.

  Ilsa wore a dress the color of ripe peaches that made her skin glow with warmth and vitality. Her golden hair, straight and sleek, made him think of the wheat fields surrounding them. He had the most unreasonable desire to unpin it from its confines on top of her head and watch it fall down her back.

  Grinning to himself, he didn’t think she’d appreciate the comparison between her hair and the crunchy stalks holding up the heads of wheat, or his wish to take it down.

  One more step brought him so close to her side he could smell nothing beyond her violet fragrance. The scent was intoxicating.

  Knowing he trod a fine line between behaving appropriately and causing a scandal if he whipped her around and kissed her like he desired to do, he breathed deeply then stepped back.

  “So what is it you do out here?” Ilsa asked, trying not to let the heat flaming in Tony’s amber eyes make her disconcerted. She shifted her attention to his face and noticed for the first time a scar that ran through his right eyebrow. Wondering how he acquired it, her fingers longed to reach out and smooth over the spot. Clasping her hands tightly together, she was startled when Nik touched her arm.

  Lost in her thoughts of Tony, she’d completel
y forgotten the boy was even there.

  “Tony is the skinner,” Nik said, looking with fond admiration at his friend.

  “What’s a skinner?” Ilsa asked, envisioning something terrible that had to do with animal hide.

  At her wrinkled nose and disturbed look, both Tony and Nik laughed. “He drives the mules.” They pointed to what looked like a ladder that went up to a platform with a seat, extending over the mules.

  “Oh,” Ilsa said, glad to know a skinner’s job didn’t involve dead animals. “So you have a skinner, a jigger, and a sewer. Is that correct?”

  “Don’t forget the header tender,” Tony said, pointing to a wheel at the front of the thresher, behind the skinner’s platform.

  “And that is…?”

  “Very important,” Tony explained, pointing to the header. “He makes sure the header is going where it’s supposed to and working properly.”

  “I see,” Ilsa said, not understanding how any of it worked and not truly interested enough to care.

  Tony held a hand to his chin thoughtfully, studying her for a moment. He knew she didn’t understand how the machinery operated and most likely didn’t care. His little chickadee, as he thought of Ilsa, was as out of place here in the wheat field as he would be in her aunt’s fancy dress shop.

  Watching Kade’s dog approach, he tried not to laugh at the horrified expression on Ilsa’s face when the big animal walked up to her and sniffed her dress.

  “What is that thing?” Ilsa whispered, glancing from Tony to Nik, uncertain if she should hold still or run to the safety of the buggy where Aundy and Nora stood visiting with the men.

  “He isn’t a thing and wouldn’t appreciate you thinking ill of him,” Nik said, rubbing his hand over the dog’s head. A huge tail began to wag enthusiastically and Tony stepped aside to keep from receiving a beating from it.

  “That ‘thing’ is Kade’s dog, Ike. Caterina ranks just a little higher for Kade’s affection, so you best be nice to him,” Tony said, patting the dog on his side. A huge tongue lolled out of his mouth and licked Tony’s hand. “Isn’t that right, Ike?”