LITMIR.BIZ

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and opened her eyes. Doc Dougherty had ordered her to take afternoon naps, but really, this was ridiculous! From the angle of the sun through the bedroom window, she guessed she had slept for hours.

      The sound of hammering came through the open window, and she dragged her aching body off the bed and peeked out. Danny was perched at Mr. Winterman’s elbow, handing him nails, which he pounded into the new porch step. Molly was playing with something in the porch swing. She wondered what it was until a tiny ball of orange fur tumbled off onto the floor.

      A kitten! Where had she found a kitten? As she watched, another orange ball dropped off the swing, and then another! She groaned aloud. Surely Cord wouldn’t have brought kittens from town without asking her first?

      Molly gave a squeak and scrambled out of the swing to corral the animals, and Eleanor turned away from the window. She splashed lukewarm water over her flushed cheeks and patted some on her neck. Imagine, sleeping away the afternoon when she should be baking bread and starting the beans for supper. It was probably because of that whiskey Cord had slipped into her coffee. The man was a bad influence.

      Well, maybe not so bad, considering that he’d apparently worked all afternoon and watched over Daniel and Molly while he repaired whatever he was working on. She looked out the window again.

      The front porch step was fixed. Oh, yes, she surely did need a hired man! She was glad she had hired Cordell Winterman. She thought about the tall, sun-browned man all the way down the stairs and into the kitchen to start supper.

      An hour later the children tumbled in through the new screen door, dusty and happy. And hungry. “Wash up,” she ordered.

      “We already did,” Molly answered.

      “Oh? Where?”

      “At the pump out front,” Danny volunteered. “With Cord. I mean Mr. Winterman.”

      She propped both hands on her hips. “With soap?”

      “With soap,” Cord said as he came through the door. He took the chair she indicated, tipping it back until the two front feet lifted off the floor.

      “You’re gonna fall over backward,” Molly observed.

      “You want to bet on that?”

      “Yes!” the girl shouted.

      “Okay. I bet three lemon drops that I won’t tip this chair over.”

      “Please,” Eleanor interjected, setting a platter of fried potatoes on the table. “Do not teach my children to gamble!”

      He stared up at her. “You mean I can’t bet even one lemon drop?”

      “I mean exactly that,” she said, keeping her voice extra-crisp. “And kindly tell me where those kittens came from? Not from town, I hope?”

      Molly went rigid. Cord returned all four chair legs to the floor. “Well, ma’am, to tell you the truth—”

      “Don’t tell her anything!” Danny yelled. “She’ll make us get rid of ’em.”

      “Would you do that, Mrs. Malloy?” Cord inquired, his voice quiet. “Make your children get rid of some kittens?”

      “Well...”

      “Because,” he continued, “actually they’re your kittens. They were born in your barn, up in the hayloft.”

      “Are you absolutely sure about that?” She couldn’t soften the suspicion that tinged her voice.

      “Oh, I’m sure, all right,” he said with a laugh. “Mama Cat and the little ones snuggled right up to my belly last night. They’re yours, all right.”

      She sat down suddenly, completely out of steam. “What? Oh. Well, then, I suppose...”

      “Yaaay!” Molly cried. “Tomorrow I’m gonna give them all names.”

      Cord studied the white-faced woman sitting across from him. “Daniel,” he said quietly, “why don’t you check on whatever’s in the oven.”

      “Oh, yessir, Cord.”

      “And, Molly,” he continued, “get your mother’s napkin and wet it under the pump at the sink.”

      The children bustled about their tasks while Eleanor sat limp as a cooked noodle. When Molly handed her the wet napkin, she took it without a word and laid it against the back of her neck.

      Cord kept his eye on her while he pointed to the oven. “Dan?”

      Danny opened the oven door and sniffed. “Beans, I guess. A big pot.”

      Cord stood, grabbed two potholders and lifted the pot of bubbling beans to the table. Danny handed him the big serving spoon, and Cord ladled out a dollop onto a plate and pushed it over to Eleanor.

      She pushed it back across the table to Cord. “I’m not hungry.”

      Cord added a square of corn bread and slid the plate back to her.

      “I said I wasn’t hungry,” she murmured.

      “Yeah, I heard you. Eat some anyway. You’ve got two kids who need their mother, so don’t argue.”

      “Well!” She ruffled herself up like an angry banty chicken. “Mr. Winterman, just who do you think you are, giving me orders?”

      He drew in a tired breath. “I’m your hired man, Eleanor. I’m trying to help you here, so do what I say, all right?”

      Molly and Danny exchanged wide-eyed looks and picked up their forks without a word. Cord ladled some beans onto their plates and then some onto his own. After a long moment their mother picked up her fork, and the kids exchanged another, even longer, look.

      Cord caught Danny’s eye and gave him an imperceptible shake of his head. Don’t say anything, son. Nobody likes to give in when they’ve made a speech about refusing something. To Molly he sent a smile and a wink.

      After that, supper was dead quiet except for the clink of utensils against the china plates. Finally Danny broke the spell. “We got any dessert, Ma?”

      “No, I’m afraid not,” she said. “I meant to bake an apple pie, but...”

      “I make a humdinger of an apple pie,” Cord announced.

      Three startled pairs of eyes stared at him. “Aw, you can’t neither,” Danny said.

      “Don’t bet on it, son.”

      Eleanor pinned him with a disapproving look but he paid no attention, just grinned.

      “You all get ready for apple pie tomorrow night, all right?” He held her gaze just long enough to make her a little nervous.

      Eleanor stared at him. Apple pie? Surely he was joking. After an announcement like that, she found she couldn’t stop looking at him. Well, maybe it was more than his apple pie promise. Maybe it was his way of taking over, of making her feel...cared for somehow.

      She gave herself a mental shake. The man left her with an uneasy, fluttery feeling in her stomach. She watched Danny and Molly gobble down their beans, butter extra squares of corn bread and gulp down their milk. Then, without a word from her, they gathered up the plates and pumped water into the teakettle to heat for washing up the dishes.

      Things were certainly different since Cord Winterman had appeared at her door. She wasn’t sure she liked it. She wasn’t sure she even liked him. Could a man like that really deliver on a challenge to bake a pie? She didn’t think so for one minute. Not for one single minute!

      * * *

      That night, Cord lay awake in the loft until long past moonrise, not because he wasn’t tired from fixing the screen or the porch step or the front gate, but because Mama Cat brought her wriggly kittens to curl up against his back and he was afraid to roll over for fear of crushing them. He could move them, he supposed. But after a few hours he kinda liked hearing them

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