LITMIR.BIZ

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protect Henry and ensure that happy life she wanted for him, she must first save their home and livelihood.

      Help me, Lord. Please, save my shop.

      She kissed Henry on both cheeks, and then walked to the door. “Sleep tight.”

      “’Night, Mama.” Henry’s eyelids were already lowering, his mouth opening in a wide yawn.

      Once satisfied her son was asleep, Carly began her search for the deed. In the attic, Max’s trunk was tucked in a dark corner of the back wall, off by itself. Much like the man. During the eight years of her marriage, Max had dwelled on the fringe of her life. What did she know about him, really?

      Inside the trunk under a pile of photo albums, Carly found Lillian’s Bible, the binding wobbly, the pages worn, verses underlined. Stuck beside the Twenty-third Psalm was an envelope addressed to Max, the flap open. She pulled out and unfolded a single sheet of paper, the words written with an unsteady hand.

      Dearest Max,

      I pen this letter knowing my time on earth is coming to an end. I love you, son. I will die with a prayer for you on my lips, that you will return to the Lord and one day we will meet again.

      Your loving mother

      Tears stung Carly’s eyes. From what she knew, Lillian’s prayer had gone unanswered. If she’d tried harder, could Carly have led Max to the Lord? Or would she have paid dearly for suggesting he needed God and should attend church?

      The choice had been Max’s to make. The consequence, his doing, yet Lillian had also paid a price for her son’s rebellion.

      What would Carly do if Henry made bad choices, turned his back on God? To be both father and mother to her son weighed heavily on her, but better to rear him alone than to expose him to another bad influence, another heartless man.

      “I’m sorry, Lillian. So very sorry.” With a sigh, Carly returned the letter to the envelope and closed the flap. If only she could shut out her regrets as easily.

      Life was never that simple.

      Please Lord, if the deed is here, help me find it.

      Filled with a surge of energy, Carly scoured every nook and cranny, then left the attic. She would turn the house inside out and upside down, search every drawer, clothespress and cupboard. The deed had to be here somewhere.

      * * *

      What could Nate say to convince his sister that her future depended upon that deed lying on the table in front of her?

      Dressed in black, her tidy bun perched high on her head and her mouth set in a stubborn line, Nate knew all too well that Anna was prepared for battle. Yet Nate knew he would win. He had logic and necessity on his side. Even his softhearted sister would see she must accept reality.

      Still, that deed would force another widow from her home, from her place of business. Who would help Mrs. Richards move her things? What would happen to her and her son?

      Nate steeled his spine. The widow was able-bodied and strong-minded; like a cat, she would land on her feet.

      “Are you ready, sis?” he said, reaching for the deed.

      Anna thrust out her hand, palm up. “I don’t want anything to do with that shop. Walt lost his life over that deed, same as his killer. And you could’ve been killed.” She shook her head as if trying to rid her mind of such ugliness.

      “I didn’t want to kill Richards. He forced my hand.”

      “You’d never kill anyone unless you had to,” Anna said, her tone gentle without a speck of condemnation. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want any part of that deed.”

      Nate tapped his forefinger on the document. “Anna, this piece of paper means you’ll have a place to do your stitching, a business with customers ready to pay for your efforts. God’s bringing good out of bad, giving you a fresh beginning.”

      “I know God’s in control and I need to trust Him, but I hate change, you know that. I’d much rather stay here.”

      “The new tenants are moving in tomorrow.” He grinned. “Doubt they’re expecting a boarder.”

      Anna fiddled with her handkerchief. “What if things don’t work out in Gnaw Bone? Just the name of the town makes me think twice. I’ve never run a shop before.” She shoved the deed away. “This could be a mistake.”

      “Or an opportunity. Last I knew, you were mighty good with a needle. Did you make that dress?”

      “Yes. I had enough black fabric to make a couple dresses and a skirt.”

      “To own a dress like that would give any woman confidence. Think what your talent could mean to ladies living in a town with the name of Gnaw Bone.”

      Anna chuckled. “You should consider becoming a salesman.”

      With a wink, Nate scooped up the deed and slipped it into his saddlebag before Anna changed her mind, then helped his sister to her feet and out the door.

      All morning Anna had dithered here and there, cleaning nonexistent dirt from the corners and under the bed. Scoured the sink, watered the flowers and garden, straightened the curtains covering the windows, putting off the inevitable.

      Nate understood it was hard to leave memories behind. “Thought we’d stop at the cemetery on our way past so you can say goodbye to Walt.”

      “He wanted only to give me an easier life...” Anna fell silent, blinking back tears. “Now he’s gone.”

      The pain in Anna’s soft gray eyes told of her love for Walt Hankins, a gentle, unassuming man, but not much of a provider. He’d risked and lost the family farm. Then year after year, he’d toiled on this tenant farm for half the crop, barely scrimping by. Whenever Nate earned a reward, he’d sent Anna money. Money that Walt soon lost on one fool scheme after another. More than once Nate had been tempted to knock some sense into Walt. If he had, perhaps his brother-in-law would be alive today.

      He inhaled the cool morning air and let his gaze travel the shed and barn, then on to the rolling fields and budding woods beyond. The nearest farm was barely visible over the next rise. With Walt gone, Nate would rest easier knowing Anna lived in town surrounded by people. Had a doctor nearby.

      At the wagon, Nate tugged the brim of his Stetson low to block the glare of the rising sun, then shoved the last trunk further into the back crammed with every item Anna owned.

      She turned to him, disquiet in her eyes. “I won’t know a single person in that town.”

      No doubt reeling from the sudden changes in her life, his sister had grown timid, not at all like her. Once they were settled, Anna would handle the move as she’d handled every hardship in her life, with strong faith in God.

      “Won’t take you long to get acquainted.” He wrapped one arm around her shoulders. “I’ll be there ready to step in should an unhappy matron complain you made her hem too short.”

      A gentle smile riding her lips, Anna laid a palm on Nate’s cheek. “My protector,” she said. “You’re always looking after me. How can I thank you?”

      “Make me a cherry pie, sis, and we’ll call it even.”

      “A cherry pie it is.” She accepted a helping hand onto the wagon seat. “Now, if you had a wife, she’d make all the pies you could eat.”

      “Why bother, when you make the best pies anywhere?”

      Nate tied Maverick to the back of the wagon, then tossed his saddlebag on the seat and clambered aboard.

      He shot his sister a grin, to keep her from seeing how much the responsibility for her weighed on his shoulders. Not just for her, but for all the defenseless. He’d seen firsthand how quickly life could make a detour, how quickly life could end.

      He had promised

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