“Don’t,” Justin said one evening, putting his hand on Leah’s arm as she filled a plate for Kim. He turned to Wes. “Isn’t it about time she stopped being a princess? Leah isn’t her waiting woman.”
“Kim’s still grieving for her brother,” Wes said stubbornly.
“Then you wait on her. Not Leah!” He grabbed the plate from Leah and thrust it at Wes.
They ate in silence and Kim came out of the wagon to sit, leaning against a tree while Wes hovered over her.
With seeming disgust, Justin threw the last of his coffee into the fire. “We all need a rest. There’s a waterfall a few miles from here and I thought maybe tomorrow Leah and I could ride over there.” He smiled at her across the fire. “Maybe do some washing.”
Leah looked down at her cup. “I do need to do some washing,” she murmured.
Before the morning was fully awake, Justin was standing over Leah, wanting her to hurry up so they could go.
“But what about breakfast?” she asked, gathering dirty clothes into a bundle.
“Let the duchess fend for herself for a day.”
Leah suppressed a giggle. “I’m ready.”
“Leah!” Kim called and came running to them. She was very pretty in the early light. She held out a couple of dresses and some underwear to Leah, “Would you mind? It looks like I have all the camp work to do today since you’re going off to have fun, so could you do this little thing for me?”
“Of course,” Leah answered, but Justin grabbed the clothes.
“You can do your own laundry,” he began.
Leah put her hand on his arm and took Kim’s clothes. “Of course I’ll wash them.”
“Come on,” Justin said in disgust, half-pulling Leah to his saddled horse. “Why do you let her take so much from you? You’re worth fifty of her.” He mounted the horse then pulled her up behind him.
“No I’m not,” Leah whispered, but she didn’t think Justin heard her.
They traveled north for over an hour, away from the houses that dotted the countryside, away from sight of other wagons that traveled westward. After another hour, Justin dismounted and lifted his arms up for Leah. When he held her aloft, hands on her waist, he lowered her slowly and kissed her gently.
Leah felt no sparks, but it was a pleasant kiss. She looked away when he set her on the ground.
He looked at her, a puzzled frown on his brow. “Who’s hurt you, Leah?” he asked softly. “I’ve never met a woman as pretty as you who hung her head all the time and thought she was another woman’s slave.”
“There are things about me you don’t know,” she said, pulling away from him, but she kept her chin up. “And I’m no one’s slave.”
“Then why are you so frightened of Wes?”
“Frightened?” She gasped. “I’m not afraid of him—or any man!” She lowered her voice. “But there are things between Wes and me, things you know nothing about.” She could feel the anger in her growing. “I’d better get started with the washing.”
“Forget the washing!” Justin said fiercely, grabbing the bundle from her. “What’s between you and Stanford?”
“Not what you mean,” she flashed at him, eyes bright with anger. “Wesley Stanford hates me, just as I hate him and all his kind who let my family starve while they spent money on fine clothes and horses. Wesley’s horse cost more than what all nine of us lived on for over a year.”
She moved away from him, knowing she’d disgusted him. He wouldn’t care about her now that he knew who she was—and she wasn’t going to let him see how his change hurt her. “You and your fine manners,” she said, seething. “All of you men are alike. You think because we’re poor you can get what you want from us. But let me tell you that only one of us Simmonses is a whore.”
“Is that what you think of me?” Justin gasped. “That I think you’re a…a…”
“Go on and say it!” she shouted at him. “I’ve certainly heard the word enough times from men and women like you. Pretty clothes on the outside and filth inside.”
Justin stood still for a moment, looking as if he were in shock. “Is that what you think I am? Some rich dandy that grew up in a big house with servants to wait on me?” Quickly he turned around, and when he looked back he was grinning. “I wish the people of Sweetbriar could hear this. One of the Stark boys accused of having manners and riches. Oh Leah,” he said, beginning to laugh. “I don’t know how poor you grew up but you’ll have to go some to beat me. Sit down here and let me tell you the true story of my family.”
Bewildered, Leah sat beside him on the ground and listened to the true version of Justin’s life. It wasn’t that he’d lied when he’d told her of his family earlier, but he’d left out all the bad—because he thought Leah was a lady born and raised, and he didn’t want to shock her with the tales of his life.
Justin told about his father, Doll Stark, who, it was rumored, was the laziest man east of the Mississippi. It might have been a joke to others, but to the rest of the family it was a constant battle to survive. Doll would spend his days in the Macalister trading post, laughing, enjoying himself, while his wife and children tried to feed themselves from a few acres of overworked land. Justin, the oldest boy, grew up hating his father. Doll would eat a massive breakfast, for which the family had worked, disappear until nightfall, come home, eat more, then spend hours trying to impregnate his wife. Justin would lie awake and hear the quiet sounds and hate his father even more. As for Doll, he never asked how his family fared or how Justin worked long, long hours to keep meat on the table.