We're back with another chance to use our cooperative imaginations. Scroll down to read last week's full story. Let's just get right to it, shall we?
A passing horse and buggy splashed muddy water over Tracy's boots, soaking the hem of her dress. She paid it no heed. Gathering up her skirts, she confidently trudged across the soggy road, not bothering to avoid the puddles. That fool of a brother of hers had better not try to stop her this time. She had no intention of letting Samuel get away with this uncivilized behavior--business owner or not.
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His behavior was getting out of hand and it was about to ruin her life. After all, who wanted to marry into a family of lunatics? Tracy wanted to marry and have children, all women did. She was eighteen. Most of her friends were married or at least engaged by now. It was almost too late for her. Soon she would be on the shelf and her life would be over.
Tracy made plenty sure when she opened the door to the mercantile that Samuel could gauge her mood with the slam.
"Got a bee in your bonnet?" He didn't even look up when she stormed in.
"How dare you? My students need those McGuffey readers? I gave you my order and the money. It's your job to follow through and order those books."
Tracy's green eyes focused on nothing but Samuel. He fidgeted with the ledger, looked up, and then chuckled at the firecracker of a woman in front of him.
The flames shooting from her eyes made him rethink his mirth.
"I'm sorry, Sis. I sent in the order; I know I did." He prayed she wouldn't be able to tell he was lying. He couldn't tell her that Thomas Radwell had made him cancel the order. She already disliked the man; this would only make it worse. But he owed Thomas his life and that was more important than a simple book order, wasn't it?
She just continued staring the way she always did, until he had to force himself not to squirm like a worm on a hook. Lord, he hated it when she did that. He considered telling her about Mr. Radwell and letting them fight it out themselves. That could be entertaining, he thought for a brief moment. They fought like cats and dogs every time they were together. It was very... passionate...
"If you'd of sent it in, it'd be here by now. Now fess up."
A breeze lifted her bonnet from where it hung down her back.
"Good afternoon, Miss Finch, and how is my lovely bird this afternoon?" Thomas Radwell's broad shoulders filled the door.
"About to peck my eye out." Samuel chuckled.
Tracy turned to face him as she carefully schooled her expression to hide the sudden racing of her stupid heart. "Mr. Radwell," she replied, inclining her head slightly. "Please excuse me. I have business to attend to." "Perhaps I may be of some assistance." Mr. Radwell replied as he followed her out the door and into the street. He smiled as he observed her straight-as-a-rod posture; she was beautiful when she was angry...
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