To be a Wildflower

Chapter 5

Chelseaville February 1975

Hope narrowed her eyes at the ranch outstretched in front of her and fixed them on Harrison as she tried to catch his attention.

Harrison never saw anyone by the ranch, specially girls, except on January twentieth, when the town belles paraded in front of the fence with low gazes and giggles, a homemade ritual by the belles for the eve of St. Agnes, which Harrison thought was a relief for the workers until they attempted to do more than just observe, and create chaos. Hence he gladly avoided such occasions of heavy crowds which was a bit much for his tastes. So, when he noticed a dark copper haired girl leaning against the fence, all by herself, he knew something was going to make his day better.

With a low smile on his face, he got up from his porch steps and headed towards the white wooden fence, but as he got closer did he begin to outline the features of Hope Mayfield, and his smile dropped flatly.  Harrison had begun to believe if a Mayfield was lurking anywhere close to a Crawford it was bad luck. Unable to turn away now that she had spotted him and was evidently determined to seek his assistance, he cursed lightly under his breath and reached the fence.

"What can I help you with Hope Mayfield?" he asked flatly, standing a few inches away from the fence on his side.

"Harrison," she nodded her head with a brief smile. She never understood the feud between her folks and the Crawfords, and she was certain that she was not going to instigate any of her own. "I know this is an abrupt request, but I'm in desperate need for a bale of hay, you see my grandpa Joe—

"Your old grandpa Joe is headlining the festival, Hope. He doesn't need my help." Harrison interjected ruthlessly.

"I-I know, but he really is in need of one bale and he's very stubborn too, but he'll never have to find out I asked help from the Crawford ranch. I'll return the favour!" Hope said casually, but he heard the desperate urgency in her voice. He stepped closer to the fence and bent lower to her ear, while Hope remained still, unnervingly.

"You do know that's treacherous right?" He asked, his eyes looking over her tiny stature.

"Is it, Harrison?" She looked right up at him, which he did not expect, making him step back.

"Well I don't believe in this feud, because it's stupid, so I say no, I don't think it's treacherous." She continued and shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly and as she did, Harrison noticed her oversized lemony sweater slip down one of her shoulders, but she was not aware of it. His eyes reverted to her denim skirt that ended near her knees, which had a mimosa leaf tangled at the skirt's hem and her usual worn out muddy boots covering her feet. Harrison had heard from the townsfolk about Hope's wild journeys in the river and forest and god knew where - she was the sweet wild child the town could never get enough of and he was simply tired of hearing about the "spirit of the town".

He shook his head and looked back at her, who was waiting patiently with a hopeful beam on her face that made her grey violet eyes sparkle. Harrison wavered for a second at the glimmer in her eyes, he knew the one thing he could not deny about Hope was her exceptional beauty, specially her eyes that rippled like pools of elixir. He knew half the town could not resist Hope, and he didn't even blame them. 

"I can't help you Hope," he said with a straight face and Hope's face drained instantly to one of loss, which almost made him bend.

"Wh-what do you mean you can't?" She asked.

"I don't have to negotiate with the Mayfields- I don't allow myself to," he said sternly and turned to walk away.

"You know Harrison Crawford, for a grown rancher, you have quite the reigns holding you back." She said with a surprising smirk on her face and Smitty, a ranch helper, who was just then taking a horse out to the paddocks muffled a laugh at Hope's words.