LITMIR.BIZ

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some butter in the pantry, please, and bring out some jam,” Glory said quietly, and Essie moved quickly to obey. A container of jam in one hand, the plate of butter in the other, she paused by Cade’s chair and shot him a quick grin as she arranged the table. Glory sliced bread with a steady hand and filled a plate with the remains of a loaf she’d unwrapped from the kitchen dresser where she stored her bread.

      A coffeepot sat on the back burner of the kitchen range and Essie ran to find a cup for Cade, then brought it to him and placed it by his bowl. “I’ll get you a glass for milk, Glory, and one for me and for Buddy, too.”

      Glory took a pan of biscuits from the oven and dumped them into a bowl, then put them in the warming oven. “We’ll have the strawberries atop the biscuits for dessert, Mr. McAllister. We have lots of cream to serve with them, and we have them often thataway, for biscuits and strawberries are a favorite of the children.”

      They all took their places at the table, then Glory spoke words of thanksgiving for the food, the children folding their hands while she prayed. Buddy looked up at her as she buttered his bread and scooped honey from the dish and spread it atop the butter.

      “Glory, my pa’s not ever coming home, is he?” Buddy asked in a quiet voice.

      Glory lifted her gaze to the boy. “Buddy, we’ve talked about this before, and as tough as the answer is, we have to move on with our lives. Your pa is dead and gone, buried in the churchyard. Now we can only do our best to go on as he would have wanted.”

      “I just feel like he should be here,” the boy said quietly. “Every time I look out in the hay field, I think I should see him there. And when I come in the house, I expect to see him at the dinner table or washing up in the sink.”

      Glory nodded at his words. “I think you’re just grieving for your pa, Buddy. It’s all right to wish he were still with us, but the truth is that he’ll never be back and we have to go on. We’ll have to take up the slack and work hard to make him proud of us, won’t we? And we won’t forget to pray that he’s in a better place now.”

      The boy tore his piece of bread in half and offered it to his sister, who took it with a smile that seemed to be thanks enough for the lad.

      The meal was simple, but the four people around the table ate it with relish and then sat back while Glory prepared the strawberry dessert.

      “Sure looks good, ma’am,” Cade said with a grin.

      “Glory cooks good for us,” Essie told him, sucking a berry from her spoon, earning a quick look from Glory. “I think I kinda remember the day she came here, but I was pretty small back then.”

      “Well, I’ll never forget that day,” Buddy told them. “She was sure pretty, and she washed Essie’s hair and made her a braid and tied a red ribbon on it.”

      “I do remember that, after all,” Essie said with a quick smile at her stepmother. “I’d forgotten the braid and the ribbon.”

      “I’d say you two have more good memories of Glory than you could ever count. Your pa sure was lucky to have her here with you.”

      “He married her so she could be our stepmother,” Buddy said.

      Glory looked at Cade squarely. “It was more to make certain that I would inherit and have this place should anything happen to him, I believe.”

      Cade nodded his agreement with her words and dug into his dessert. “The children were right. This is delicious, Miss Glory. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate a home-cooked meal. I’ve been riding from town to town, kinda on a quest for a place that would appeal to me and hoping I’d feel a sign of sorts when I saw a spot that would be right for me. But I’ll tell you true, any man would want to sit at this table once he’d had a sample of your cooking, Miss Glory.”

      Glory smiled at him, her gaze assessing. He was a man to be admired, for according to the papers he’d given her to review, he was not only honest and forthright, but had a fund of money available should she want to sell any portion of her farm to him. But if she was to be proven wrong, if this Cade McAllister was not all that he seemed to be, she could be making a big mistake. But then again, if she was right, if the sheriff was correct in his thinking, then Cade might be the salvation she sought, for she was weary of carrying this load alone. He might prove to be a mentor for Buddy, an older brother for Essie, perhaps a friend for herself. Maybe even a man to look out for her and the children on a permanent basis. A man who would be willing to take on the work here and make a success of Buddy’s inheritance. Who might consider being a partner in the farm.

      Cade helped clear up the table, then watched as she and Essie made short work of the dishwashing. Glory wiped up the table and hung the dish towels on the short line on the back porch, then shook the rug that lay by the back door. Essie put it back in place, a final chore that seemed to end the evening’s ritual.

      Cade stood and stretched, then pushed his chair back under the table. “I’ll be heading for the barn, ma’am,” he said. “I’ll put my bedroll up in the loft if there’s enough hay left up there.”

      “Enough for a man to sleep on,” Glory assured him, watching as he made his way across the yard to the barn. Their usual bedtime came at dusk and tonight was no different, for the children were weary from a long day, and even Glory sought her bed as soon as darkness enveloped the farmhouse. She settled into the feather tick and closed her eyes, but found that sleep eluded her. The man in her barn appeared before her as if he were there in her bedroom, a vision she beheld as she thought of what might be in her future. It would surely be a blessing to have a man to do the chores and work the fields. After turning from one side of the bed to the other, the bedclothes tangling about her body, she rose to find her dressing gown. Tying it firmly at her waist, she slid into her house shoes, then descended the stairs and went out the back door, seeking the silence of the night and the familiar sight of the fruit trees in the orchard.

      As she had in the past, she walked among the trees, admiring the blossoms that filled the air with a faint scent. She lifted her eyes to the sky, seeking some bit of wisdom perhaps in the stars that pierced the darkness. Change hovered in the air that surrounded her, and she stood as still as a statue, her gaze upward, thoughts of Cade McAllister filling her mind again. There was about him a sheen of honesty, and she was drawn to him, her body almost seeking out the warmth of his whenever she was near him.

      The future loomed before her and she was fearful of what it held, for she was mighty tempted to accept the offer of the man who lay in her hayloft. It was a given that keeping the farm intact for Buddy to inherit one day involved seeking help. Perhaps Cade could be persuaded to work as a partner. She turned from her stargazing and headed back toward the house, hoping she would find Cade agreeable in the morning.

      The barn was warm with the body heat given off by the animals, and in the hayloft Cade rolled up in a quilt and found a lush bed beneath the eaves. From below, the cow lowed contentedly, the horses nickering to each other from neighboring stalls. From the house, he heard the closing of the back door, and he quickly rolled to his feet and went to where the door swung easily open over the front of the barn.

      Below him, in the moonlight, Glory walked toward the garden, and then beyond that to where a half dozen fruit trees bloomed. Her hair hung long against her back, freed now from the dark braid she’d confined it in during the day. It rippled in the moonlight, a cloud that reached her hips and swung with each step she took.

      He watched her for perhaps a half hour, until she turned finally from her stargazing and pondering and made her way back past the fruit trees and through the garden to the back porch. As she turned toward the house, she looked at the barn, her gaze moving across its door, up to the roof and finally to the window in the loft where he stood, watching her.

      “Mrs. Clark, wait up a minute. We need to talk.” His voice was pitched low, but it apparently carried to where she stood, for she nodded, sliding her hands into the pockets of her dressing gown as she turned to sit on the edge of the porch, waiting silently.

      He climbed down from the loft and approached across the yard to stand before her. Glory

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