“Coffee if you have it.”
“I don’t.”
“Then nothing.”
Clara’s suspicion deepened.
People did not do work for nothing.
Henry had taught her that too.
Sometimes the price simply arrived later.
“What’s the favor?”
Amos understood.
“No favor.”
“Then why?”
“I want to know what kind of neighbor settled beside me.”
Clara looked at him.
“And?”
Amos glanced toward the squared corner logs.
“So far?”
“Yes.”
“Stubborn.”
Jesse laughed.
Clara did not.
Amos continued:
“Competent.”
That word surprised her.
Not brave.
Not inspiring.
Competent.
The compliment Henry would have given.
Clara looked away.
“Come tomorrow.”
Amos nodded.
“We will.”
They arrived at sunrise.
The wall plates were nearly thirty feet long and too heavy for Clara to safely position alone.
Amos rigged ropes.
Jesse controlled one line.
Tommy another.
Clara stood above guiding placement.
At one point Tommy stared along the south wall.
“This is straight.”
Clara did not look up.
“It had better be.”
“I mean really straight.”
“Yes.”
“Most men don’t check every course.”
Clara drove the wooden mallet against a joint.
“Most men pay for mistakes later.”
Amos looked up at her.
Something like admiration entered his eyes.
Clara noticed.
Pretended not to.
They finished by late afternoon.
Amos leaned against a post.
“You’ll make the deadline.”
Clara looked at the structure.
Twenty-four days left.
“No.”
Amos frowned.
“No?”
“I’ll beat it.”
He smiled.
That was the first time she saw what happened to his face when the severity left.
It made him younger.
Dangerously so.
The next stage was rafters.
Clara built a ladder.
Amos arrived unexpectedly while she was halfway up carrying a roof brace.
He looked up.
“No.”
Clara stopped.
“Excuse me?”
“No.”
She stared down.
“You have exactly three seconds to explain why you are standing on my land giving commands.”
Amos removed his hat.
“You’re eight months pregnant.”
“Nearly nine.”
“That makes my argument worse, not better.”
Clara climbed another rung.
Amos swore.
“I can do this.”
“I can see that.”
“Then go home.”
“No.”
Clara glared.
Amos walked beneath the ladder.
“I’m not telling you not to build.”
“You sound remarkably like you are.”
“I’m telling you that if that ladder slips, there is nobody close enough to help.”
“There is now.”
Clara regretted the words immediately.
Amos looked up.
Silence.
Something passed between them.
Clara adjusted her grip.
“Hold the ladder.”
Amos did.
No lecture.
That bothered her more than if he had argued.
She climbed.
The ridge beam was the hardest piece.
Even with ropes, it refused to seat.
Clara pushed.
Amos lifted the opposite side.
“Your end down an inch.”
“It’s catching.”