Loaded Guns and Broken Fences [On Hold]

Chapter 44

At the McGrath farm, the rain just kept coming. And true to Bran's prediction, the creek had swelled right past her banks and overtaken the narrow footbridge, cutting off access to the cabin from the rest of the farm. As miserable as the rain was, it had its good points--mostly in that it had provided privacy to him and Tom.

Bran fell back across the bed, his nude form heaving and panting as he struggled to catch his breath. He let his gaze travel to where Tom was laying in much the same fashion. 

Tom's body felt twice as heavy as it normally did. He was exhausted, but he forced himself to sit and detangle himself from the twisted quilt. Getting cleaned up before he'd completely cooled down sounded far more appealing than bathing with a chill.

"You ever courted someone before?" Tom asked as he padded over to the washbowl--grateful that he'd emptied and refilled it before heading out for chores.

"Naw, I went to call on Addison Delano, once er twice, but her Pa weren't too keen on me," Bran said as his breath began to settle.

Tom snorted as he grabbed a washcloth and the bar of soap. "I can't imagine why anyone's pa wouldn't like you," he teased from over his shoulder. "Why, you're a right angel." Tom's gaze lingered on the scarred-over mark burned onto Bran's skin. "Not a bad influence or nothin' like that."

"I ain't ever meant ta be that way." Bran grinned from where he was still sprawled, in no hurry to move just yet as he directed his gaze to the rafters. "You know, I tried real hard ta stay outa' trouble, but it ain't never done me no good. But I suppose if this is where its all led me, that ain't too bad a deal." He looked back towards Tom. "What about you?"

A soft smile spread across Tom's lips as a lick of heat touched his ears and face. He shrugged his bare shoulders as he lathered up the wash rag and began to wipe himself down. "Ya know, I never really thought I would," Tom said, submerging the cloth into the water. "Guess I figured I wouldn't find no one I wanted that would want me back."

"That's awful pessimistic, Mr. Birch."

"Well, I don't think that now." Tom finished rinsing off with the washcloth and tossed it at Bran. The rag landed on Bran's abdomen with a wet 'smack', and Tom smirked as he fetched some clothes.

Bran pulled himself from the bed, deciding that he'd best get cleaned and dressed too so that they could go out and check on the cows.

From the kitchen window, Celly could only see the form of the tiny cabin through the rain and mist.

"You sure they'll be alright out there mama?" George asked. Celly didn't get to see much of George, besides meals and bedtime. He was getting to that age where he wanted to spend time with the older boys more than the girls and little children.

"They'll be fine. Besides, someone's gotta keep an eye on the cows," Celly assured, handing him another pot to dry.

He probably took longer drying it than was really necessary, but it wasn't often he got to help with anything. So, he took any little chore very seriously.