Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was summer and she was eighteen. She needed no provocation to run out of the house into the golden heat that covered her uncle’s estate. Her home in Washington never saw so much light as her uncle’s farm and she revelled in every opportunity to feel it on her skin. Sometimes when her uncle rode into town and she knew she was alone she would walk out into the field and take her clothes off. She’d set them down and lie out on top of them and let the sun spread its heat across every inch of her pale skin. This was exactly what she was doing on the day of the plow accident. How it’d happened she wasn’t too sure. All she knew was the plow’d been above her aways, sat up on a hill. Her uncle had stopped short in the middle of work to run into town for something or other and she was grateful for a chance to bathe in the golden sun. She removed her clothes and folded her hands behind her head. The summer sun came down and rested heavy on her naked skin. There was no sound save for the chirping beetles in the grass or the birds that flew overhead. She found herself lulled asleep by the beetles’ soft music. Some hours later she jerked awake at the sound of screaming only to realize it was her own shrill cries she was hearing. The plow was upon her, its blade pinning one of her legs into the dirt and driving tendrils of pain up her body. She struggled against the weight of the plow, screaming at the sight of the blood soaking into the dirt around her. How long she’d been asleep she wasn’t sure. When her uncle would be back she knew not. She began crying out frantic, her desperate pleas punctuated by agonized moans and hopeless sobs. She was certain no one would hear her. She was sure she would die. But someone did hear. A tall boy, with something handsome about him and brown hair that stuck out from beneath a Stetson that was much too big for him.

Where are you, ma’am? His voice carried over the field and made her breath catch in her throat.

Here! She called. I’m here, the plow’s on top of me, there’s blood! He didn’t answer for some time which made her anxious. Please! She cried. I’m real hurt!

Hold on, ma’am, I’m comin’! He shouted. She covered herself with her arms and listened as he ran through the field in her direction. He emerged from the thick of the field panting and stopped short, his face stricken with shock.

Don’t stand there like that! She said. Help me! He rushed to her side and examined the bloody scene.

Oh, ma’am this is a bad situation we’re in here. He said. I’m not sure I can lift this. I can barely pull the one back home and this one’s bigger.

Just get it off! She cried. Please! The boy knelt down next to her and gripped the blade of the plow by its flat side. She grimaced as he forced himself up to his feet. He raised the blade enough for her to crawl out from beneath its weight. Blood spurted from the deep cut and she gripped her leg and cried. He dropped the plow and fell on his back. He winced and held his hands between his knees. He glanced down at his palm and cussed. Blood seeped out of his hand and ran down his forearm. He seemed to forget about his wound as he became aware of her crying. He clambered over to her and did his best to comfort her in hushed tones, calling her ma’am and all. She watched in horror as he seized the dress she was sprawled out on and tore a lengthy ribbon of the fabric from its seam. Ignoring her protests he wrapped the strip of lace around her gushing wound. The white of the fabric quickly turned crimson and he reached out for her dress again. Her bloody hands gripped his.

Please don’t. She said. My mother gave it to me. He nodded at this, understanding and removed his flannel shirt. He tore shreds from this and continued to dress her wound. When the blood stopped soaking through, he sat back and grinned.

Reckon that’s the most blood I’ve ever seen on a lady. He said.

You’re bleeding too. She said. He looked at his hand.

Suppose I am. He kept grinning.

What are you smiling so much for? She asked.

I’s just thinkin.’ He said. I’da never heard you callin’ if I hadn’ta been lookin’ for my lucky hat. And I wouldn’ta been lookin for my hat if I hadn’ta thrown it at the wind last night on account’a bein’ so upset. And I wouldn’ta been so upset if I hadn’ta asked God to help me only to be ignored.

What did you need God’s help for? She asked.

Well, I reckon I been by myself my whole life I didn’t want to be no more. He said.

So you think God set that plow on my leg and cut up your hand? She said. He smiled at this.

I think God heard us both callin’ and set us on each other. He said.

Is that your lucky hat you’re wearing? She said.

Sure is. He grinned. Picked it up not a second b’fore I heard you yellin.’ I reckon it was fated that I be settin’ here with my hand bleedin’ and you settin’ there with your leg torn up.

Well, why would it be fated that we’d be bleeding? She said.

Look ma’am. He said. We’re the only two people in shoutin’ distance of this place and we’re both settin’ here bleedin’ and our blood’s been mixed. Yours with mine, when you grabbed my hands. Now I ain’t had too much readin’ but I recall readin’ something about what to do when two people get their blood mixed.

What do people do? She said.

When people mix their blood, they make a bond. He said. And that bond ain’t none too easy to get broke. They have’ta make a promise to each other that caint be broke no matter what.

What kind of promise? She said.

Any kind, whatever they choose. He said.

Well, what do you promise me? She said. He lifted the Stetson from his head and held it to his heart.

Ma’am, I promise I’ll always keep close in case more plows get set on your leg and I’ll be the one that come and lift ‘em off.

He spent his summers with her from then on.

Reviews

[EssenceofDaringx]

I literally cringed when I was reading about that plow on her leg! One hell of a first date, lol.