Chapter Text
Barn Burner
Lexa cursed herself. She knew better than to take the dray out on a rainy day. She knew there was a risk of getting stuck in the mud, but she’d had no choice. She had obligations. She had bills to pay and had produce and chickens that needed to get to market. Had she known it wouldn’t be the mud, but a faulty, cracked wagon wheel that ruined her day, she never would have left the house.
She’d made it to the market without issues, and she now had plenty of coins to pay her bills and enough goods to see her through the next month, but she still needed help.
Lexa Woods was the proprietress of a large farm four miles from town. It wasn’t a far distance, not for her two strong draft horses, but she couldn’t go anywhere with a broken wheel. What was worse was that she’d made it halfway home, only to get stuck in the middle of nowhere with nighttime quickly approaching. There would be no further travelers on the road, not at this time of day, or if there were, they were the sorts she wouldn’t want any part of. It left her with few choices.
She could take one of the horses and ride back to town, but that would mean leaving behind her cart laden with goods, goods that could get stolen if someone did mosey on by. Unlikely as it was, Lexa wouldn’t take the chance. That meant staying with her wagon until morning where the chances would rise that someone would travel by and help her, or who could send help once they reached town.
She didn’t fancy a night out in the cold, but she wasn’t a stranger to roughing it. Growing up, her father had taught her not only how to run the farm, but also how to hunt. Together, they had spent many nights lying on the forest floor with only a blanket to cover themselves. The memories of those nights were some of her favorites, even if they were not tainted, but that had been a long time ago, and she couldn’t remember the last time she spent the night out in the open, and she had never done it alone.
To worsen her predicament, Lexa had also gone into town to hire farmhands. Since the start of the war, she’d lost all her workers. They had all been called to fight, but the war was over now. Sadly, most able-bodied men had either died in battle or had come back injured. There were few men who were willing or able to do the hard work that came with working for her.
There was also the burden of being a female landowner. There was no small amount of prejudice over working for a woman, even in these more modern times. Men preferred to remain in their male-dominated world, even when she offered to pay more than her masculine counterparts. The stigma of being a woman who ran a farm stayed with her even though her farm was larger and more prosperous than most.
It had been six years since her father died, and until the war, the workers had stayed with her out of loyalty to him, but none had returned. She didn’t know the fate of a single person who had used to work for her, and it distressed her greatly. She’d seen those men as family, and she doubted that they had all been killed or injured in the war, but now that they had been called away, they probably didn’t want to return because of the ridicule they would face working for a woman.
It disgusted her. She was just as capable as any other person of running her farm, in fact, she was better. All of it was in jeopardy, however, because now she was alone. She was working her tail off day and night to keep her farm running, but it was nearly impossible, no matter how good she was. And the one thing she was lacking was strength. She was strong for a woman, but not strong enough to fix the wheel on her cart, not with it loaded with so many provisions. Even if it was empty, the wagon would have been difficult to handle while fixing a wheel.
She cursed again, this time out loud, while she climbed onto the back of the dray. She dug around until she found a blanket and some food. She had planned to eat at home, but since that wouldn’t be happening, she decided to break into the bread and cheese she carried. Might as well. She had nothing else to do. She returned to the seat of the cart, made sure her pistol was at her side, and broke off a piece of bread. She was about to pop it in her mouth when she noticed a lone figure walking down the road.
In the dimming light, the person appeared to be a young man, a war survivor based on the worn uniform and peaked hat on his head. As he got closer, Lexa could see he looked worse for wear. His cheeks were gaunt, and his uniform hung loosely on his frame. He was tired and probably hungry, if Lexa was any judge of it, but his bright blue eyes held an intelligence that Lexa could appreciate.
His approach became cautious as he got closer to the cart. If Lexa were in his shoes, she’d do the same. Strangers on the road could spell danger. She could be a danger to him just as he could be the same to her. Still, her heart ached for the man. She’d heard about the atrocities the men face during the war, and she was appalled at the condition most returned in. There had been accolades when they had returned victorious, but now many saw the unemployed, battered men as a burden.
“Sir,” she called out, giving herself away as a female. Had she said nothing, the person walking by might have assumed her male dressed as she was, and they probably would have gone on their merry way without even a glance, but her voice gave her away. “Are you in need of a meal? I’ve got food to spare.”
The stranger eyed her carefully, gauging her for sincerity.
Lexa thought that kind of funny considering she was a woman and he a man. Most men didn’t fear women no matter their size or build and considering that Lexa was on the slight side of things, the man had nothing to worry about.
The soldier considered her for a long while. “I appreciate the offer, ma’am,” his voice was higher than most men, but husky, “but what I could really use is a ride, if it wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience.” He paused. “I heard there’s a farm up ahead that needs workers. I was hoping to get there and offer my services. I could really use the work.”
Lexa narrowed her eyes. His voice was slightly off, or maybe just strange, but she paid it no mind.
“That farm is owned by a woman. It wouldn’t bother you to work for one?” She watched for a reaction. “Most men refuse to have a female boss.”
“Not me, ma’am.” He was very polite. “It wouldn’t bother me at all, in fact, I would prefer to work for a woman over a man.”
“Interesting,” she muttered under her breath. “There is one problem though” she said loud enough to be heard. “The dray has a broken wheel. It’s why I am sitting here and not at home. I can’t fix it by myself. Help me out, and I’ll not only feed you, but I will take you to the farm. Deal?”
The soldier nodded eagerly. “I would greatly appreciate that, ma’am.”
Lexa couldn’t help but smile. “One other thing. If I am to get you where you are going, you need to call me Lexa. None of this ma’am stuff.”
“Yes, ma…Lexa.”
“And your name is?”
“Clark. Clark Griffin.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Clark. Come on up and sit.” She heard the soldier’s stomach growl. “Let’s eat first, and then we can fix the wheel.”
Clark shook his head. “It’s probably better to fix your wagon first while there is still some light, unless you have a few lanterns.”
Lexa did indeed have a few lanterns that they could light, but Clark was right. It would be easier to repair the wheel now even if the daylight was almost gone. If they didn’t finish before it was time, then she would light the lanterns. “Good thought.”
It took time, over two hours, and it wasn’t a permanent fix, but it would be enough to get them home. In the morning, she’d call someone in to replace the wheel.
She crawled into the back of the wagon again. She already had the bread and cheese at hand, but Clark had been so helpful with the wheel, she thought he deserved more than just that. She grabbed a few cured sausages and a bottle of wine.
As they ate, she studied the man. He had soft features that were muddied by the dirt on his face. What surprised her most was that he was shockingly free of facial hair. Most soldiers, especially the men as bedraggled as this one, had unkempt beards or at least a bit of stubble, but Clark had none. He also had surprisingly small hands. She’d noticed while they were fixing the wheel.
“Eat your fill. You’ve earned it,” she said to him, pushing the rest of the food his direction. He eyed her for only a second before happily consuming the rest. “I’m going to get us on our way while you finish.”
She didn’t wait for a response. She got the horses moving, pleased that they would be home soon.
They rode in silence. She looked at him a few times, but he kept his eyes lowered, and it made her wonder what he’d been through, what he had seen. Had he been overseas? Had he been on the frontlines? No matter where he was stationed during the war, he had undoubtedly seen death and all the gruesome things men could do to one another all in the pursuit of power.
When the farmhouse finally appeared on the horizon, Lexa pointed. “That will be the farm you are wanting. I have it on good authority that Ms. Woods will hire you. She’s in need of the help, and you’ve already proven yourself a hard worker. I’ll put in a good word for you.” She winked but doubted he could see it. It was now fully dark.
“I’d appreciate that, Lexa. Thank you.”
When Lexa pulled into the lane and headed toward the barn with the dray and horses, Clark looked confused. She should only have been dropping him off, so why was she pulling in?
It made her smile. She thought he would have caught on by now, but he hadn’t, so she waved her arm in a sweeping gesture, one that encompassed the fields, barn, hen houses, shop, silos, and house. “This is home sweet home. There’s a comfortable room in the basement that you can stay in while you work here. It has its own entrance, so it is entirely private. I think you’ll find it suitable, and I promise it isn’t dark or cold. I had the entire house outfitted with electricity a year ago. It’s a wonder how we lived with oil lamps and candles for so long.”
He blinked owlishly at her. “I..uh…Miss Woods. I…I don’t know what to say.”
Her smile widened. “That’s on me. I should have let you know who I was right away. I hope this doesn’t color your opinion of me or the job I have to offer.” She told him room and board would be free and what his salary would be, and to say he was shocked was an understatement.
“That’s too much, far more than most farmhands make,” Clark stammered in surprise.
“That’s because, at least for now, it’s just you and me. We will both be doing the work of several workers each day. You will be getting up early and going to bed late every day, including Sundays, but I do allow time off to go to church if you desire to do so. We will take every second Sunday off except for caring for the animals, and once a month we will go into town. It’s hard work, Clark, I won’t lie. After working a week or two with me, you might think being in the army was easier, at least before the war started, that is.” She paused, nervous that she might run him off. “Do you still want the job?”
He nodded his head vigorously.
“Well then, help me get the dray unloaded, and after that I’ll show you your room.” She pointed. “If you need it before we start, there’s an outhouse over there. The plumbing in the house bathroom is a bit iffy, so it’s better to use that for now. I’ll make it a priority to get it fixed.”
“I can fix it, ma’am.” They were back to formalities. “I can do a little of everything.”
“We will worry about it in the morning,” she assured him.
It took a little time to get everything offloaded from the wagon, and Lexa could see that Clark was beyond tired. Normally, she would never consider inviting a hired hand into the house, but she felt bad for the man. Really, he was still a boy based on the looks of him. He couldn’t be much past 22 or 23 years old.
“Come on into the house. I baked some cookies this morning, and I have fresh milk in the ice box. After all this work, you deserve something sweet, and don’t worry, you will be paid for everything you’ve done today.”
“Miss Lexa, I can’t ask you to do that,” Clark protested.
“Good thing you didn’t ask then.” She headed to the house assuming Clark would follow.
Clarke was completely stupefied.
She was sitting on her bed in her basement room, although really it was more of an apartment, wondering how lady luck had decided to give her everything she needed in one fell swoop.
The war had ended, and she’d been released from duty. The problem was, she had nowhere to go. She had no family, and the friends she’d had all died during or before the campaign that finally turned the tide and ended the fighting.
She was free, but she had no money and no place to live. Her only hope had been to find a job somewhere in town, or on one of the farms nearby. The problem was no one wanted to hire a girl who had been dishonorably discharged from the army for hiding her identity from her superiors for four long years during the war.
It didn’t matter that she had been awarded multiple medals for her bravery, charitable works, and chivalry during the war. She had saved countless lives during the long years of the war, but any good she had done had evaporated when her ranking officer learned she was a woman.
Her rank as a medical military officer and her pension had been stripped of her all because she was a woman. She’d been a surgeon, one of the best, in the Army Medical Corps. She’d excelled at keeping wounded soldiers alive, but once she’d been found out, none of it mattered.
She supposed that once relieved of her duty, she should have returned to dressing and presenting as a woman, but she’d found early on that being a man was a much easier thing than being a woman.
No one batted an eye at her when she entered a pub wearing her frayed uniform. Everyone assumed that she, or rather he, was a war hero.
Strangers would buy her drinks and dinner while asking her for stories about her time at war. She readily shared the most grueling and terrorizing moments of war. It kept her alive. She might not have a place to stay, but she was always well fed. It wouldn’t have been the case if she’d presented herself as she was, as a woman.
She hated that she had to live a lie, but after her parents died, she’d had no choice. Her parents had been poor, and she’d been left with practically nothing after they were gone. Her only choice had been to join the army, but at the time, they had only been accepting men.
It was why Clarke had hidden her identity.
It hadn’t been easy. She’d refused to cut her long, golden locks, but she’d found a way to hide them under her hat, and she made sure to never shower when the other men were present. For four years she’d been able to keep things under wraps, including her large chest, and it wasn’t until after the war had ended that she’d finally been discovered.
Now she wished she’d never even tried to hide who she was. It had been so hard and stressful to keep herself hidden, to present as a man, fearing every day that someone would figure out that she didn’t belong. She had almost given up and gone AWOL several times, scared that someone was on the brink of discovering her identity, but they never had, not until Finn Collins outed her.
She’d never been so pissed as she had been the day Finn figured out her secret. They had been friends and drinking buddies in the mess hall and had spent many nights playing cards to pass the time, only he had always been jealous of her. She was a far more skilled surgeon than him, and she could perform surgeries that he only dreamed of attempting.
For a while, he had kept his jealousy at bay. Shooting the shit and passing the time together had been fun, but that was when she’d been one of the guys. The second he walked in on her in the shower, the moment he realized that he was a she, it was all over.
The thing that really sucked was that the war was over. Had she made it one more day, she’d have been released from duty with honors and her pension intact. It might have been a few years before she’d receive it, but it would have made it easier to get a job. Most employers looked favorably on war veterans, but not on her. Everything had gone up in smoke because despite four years of exemplary service, her superiors had overlooked everything she had accomplished and only looked at the fact that she was a woman. It wasn’t even the lie she’d maintained. It was that she was a woman. That was it.
It was completely unfair, and she’d tried to argue that she was no different than her counterparts, but it hadn’t mattered. Her world shattered all because of one man’s insecurities. The worst part was that Finn, the wanker, had the audacity to ask her out on a date after everything that he had caused. He’d left the room with a broken nose and a pair of black and blue balls.
Sighing, she looked around at her new home. It was comfortable, dry, well lit, and had a comfortable bed. In the next room, which wasn’t much bigger than the small bedroom she was in, was a table for two, a few books, and a lamp. The creature comforts were lacking, but it was better than sleeping in the dirt or in the hayloft, which was what she’d expected for the night. Miss Woods’ generosity was beyond comprehension. It had Clarke worrying about what would happen when she found out that Clarke was not Clark. She would probably be fired and back to being unemployed.
She flopped back onto the bed, not bothering to change. She only had one change of clothes in her rucksack, and she wanted to keep those clean. There was no sense changing when she was just going to get grimy and sweaty in the morning when she started helping on the farm. If it was just her and Miss Woods doing all the chores, it was going to be a hard day. She would wear what she had on for as long as she could get away with it, and then she would take care of it.
Rolling over, she grabbed her bag and dragged everything from it. It didn’t contain much. It had her change of clothes, one pair of socks, a pair of underwear, a few personal items, and a worn, black and white photo of her parents. She left everything on the floor except for the picture. That she looked at for a long time before hugging it to her chest then setting it upright against the lamp.
What would her parents think of her now? She’d grown up poor, but that didn’t mean she’d had a rotten childhood. She hadn’t. They had given her everything they could. They were hard workers and wanted a better life for her than she’d had, but she’d gone and screwed everything up, and to keep her job, she was going to have to continue the charade.
It wouldn’t be easy. The cool days of spring would soon give into the hotter ones of summer. She’d have a hard time keeping herself covered enough to hide her larger attributes when the heat came. She was sure Miss Woods would wonder why she remained covered up as the temperature climbed.
Her eyes drooped. That would have to be a worry for another day. For now, she had a comfortable bed to sleep on. If and when the truth came out, she’d worry about it then.
∞∞∞∞∞
Lexa couldn’t sleep. She was over the moon that she finally had some help to run the farm, but she was also worried. She’d just hired a man on the spot without knowing anything about him except that he’d obviously fought in the war. He was disheveled and very small for a man, and she worried that Clark wouldn’t be able to keep up with the heavier aspects of farm life.
She needed muscle. She needed someone who could work the long hours it took to keep things going, and she wondered if Clark would be able to keep up.
He obviously had some knowhow. He’d easily been able to help her fix the wagon wheel enough to get them home, but beyond that, Lexa didn’t know if he had what it took to do what needed to be done.
She supposed she would find out in the morning. After breakfast, they would have to get right to it, and because she had help, the heavy lifting she’d been putting off because it was just her would have to be done. She’d find out early if Clark had the mettle to see things through.
Clark.
Lexa found herself wondering what he was doing. Was he awake? Was he thinking about his time in the war?
She’d been careful not to ask too many questions as they ate cookies and drank a glass of milk before bedtime. She had wanted to ask but figured he would share when he was ready. He had a haunted look in his eyes that told her not to pry too much.
That she was thinking about him at all was a wonder. She’d never been attracted to any men. Sure, she’d had many, many suitors, especially since becoming the sole owner of a very large, prosperous farm. It would have been easy for her to catch a man and a husband, but the thought disgusted her. No one knew it, not even her closest friends, but Lexa was not into men, not that way. She was attracted to the feminine side of the human race.
Maybe that was why she was still thinking of Clark when she should have been sleeping. He was small, had soft features, and was certainly effeminate. They way he moved, was soft-spoken, and demure had her wondering about the man.
She wasn’t attracted to him, no, that would never happen, but she couldn’t help but appreciate his slighter build, sharp blue eyes, and unblemished skin.
He reminded her of a girl she’d fallen in love with long ago, Costia Rivers. Costia was a migrant worker who had come with her parents to work on the farm as a teenager for a summer years ago. She was a gorgeous, sweet, smart, and energetic young woman who Lexa had become fast friends with. They’d had a secret summer fling, but when it came time for Costia and her family to move on, they had. Lexa never saw her again.
Sometimes, she missed her, wondering what could have come of a relationship with her, but then Lexa would put it at the back of her mind. Being with someone of the same sex wasn’t just taboo, it was illegal. Terrible things happened to men and women caught in same sex relationships.
It was why she knew she would always be alone. She’d never be able to be with who she wanted, and she wouldn’t settle for a man simply to make her life easier.
She reached up and turned off her light. If nothing else, at least she was no longer alone on the farm. If she were lucky, perhaps she and Clark would become friends. If not, she’d find a way to ward off the loneliness she sometimes felt creeping in. She would take things one day at a time. It was what she had always done and would continue to do. What happened in the future was out of her control, so there was no sense in worrying about it.