Page 59 of The Prospector's Only Prospect
“Thenyourun.”
Emmett snapped his head up with such a look of suppressed fury, Virgil had to drop his gaze in shame.
“I’m not being sarcastic,” Virgil muttered, but he knew as well as Emmett that men with skin the color of Emmett’s had about as much traction with gaining voting rights as women. Not that having white skin and a cock meant people would line up to elect the bastard son of an indentured servant.
“I’d rather know we had some say,” Emmett said, leaning hard into the draw knife. “I trust you to at least try to get me the vote. If it comes up, I want you to run.”
Virgil wavered, thinking it was easier to skip trying than to try and fail.You’re nothing. Hear me? Nothing.
“I’ll keep an open mind. Is that good enough?” Virgil asked.
“Guess it has to be, doesn’t it?”
Virgil heard Emmett’s anger. The most frustrating part was, of the bunch of them, Emmett was probably best suited for politics. He wasn’t a hothead and had a natural ability to envision what he wanted to build, then break it down into the steps to make it happen.
“I shouldn’t have said it like it was easy,” Virgil said with compunction. “I promised Marigold I’d do what I could for women’s rights. Of course, I’ll do what I can for you, too.”
Emmett’s stiff shoulder jerked an acknowledgment.
Virgil jabbed the spud under the thick bark, working it away in chunks, angry with himself for disappointing his friend. Maybe he should quit wondering if he should marry Marigold and ask himself whether she would want to marryhim.
…
Marigold was so attuned to Virgil, she felt him approaching before she heard his footsteps as he returned from his evening wash at the stream.
This was her favorite time of day despite it being so excruciating. The children were abed, and she and Virgil would rest by the fire. She sewed while he whittled pegs and wedges to be used in the cabin construction. They would exchange a few words about their day, always too tired to stay awake more than thirty minutes before they found their beds, but it was precious time to her.
She always wished for something more to happen between them. Her whole bodyyearnedfor more, but she also appreciated how companionable these evenings were.
He set the filled bucket near the fire, something they’d become diligent about because the grass and trees were tinder dry as they edged into the middle of August. She hadn’t seen much rain since she had arrived.
Strange to think that tomorrow would mark one month of her being here. In some ways the days had flown, in others, she felt as though she’d lived a lifetime within each one.
“You forgot the cloth,” Virgil drawled.
“I have a splinter.” Marigold sat as close as she dared to the flame’s flicker, tilting her finger into every angle of light, but couldn’t seem to get the needle into the right spot. She was right-handed, so that added awkwardness as she tried to remove it with her left.
Virgil moved a log round next to hers and sat. He opened his palm. “Let me see.”
She offered her finger and he squeezed the tip, rolling it in the pinch of his finger and thumb. “Needle.”
She gave it up, then had to catch her open hand on his hard thigh as he took her off-balance, tugging her hand into the space between his splayed thighs while he leaned closer to the light of the fire. The sharp end of the needle picked at her fingertip.
“Don’t hurt me!” She instinctively tried to pull away, but he was too strong.
“Brave smile.”
“Virgil.” The next poke hurt a little more. She turned her face into the bulk of his upper arm. “Can you really see it? Or are you torturing me for your own entertainment? Because that is…Stop.”
“Done.”
“Really?” She lifted her head.
He showed her the splinter silhouetted on the end of the needle against the firelight. He gently rolled her plumped fingertip again. “Not even bleeding.”
He swiped the needle clean on his knee, then picked up the corner of her apron and secured the needle in it, forcing her to quit lolling into him and sit up straight.
She should have made a remark about him having a career in surgery and moved away. She was overheated, sitting so close to the fire, but she stayed where she was, waiting for his big body to brush hers again.
