Lesson one: Listen to your heart

With the mortgage due and funds scarce, Madge Morgan can’t afford distractions. Especially not from Judd Kirk, her sister Louisa’s meek tutor and—according to their mother’s plans—suitor. Madge’s focus is on her housekeeping job…little knowing Judd’s connection to her employer, or his real reason for coming to Golden Prairie.

At last, Judd has found the man who swindled his mother. Yet if he seeks revenge, he risks losing the one thing he wants even more: a woman with faith enough to rekindle his own. A woman with strong values and a gentle heart. A woman like Madge.

Madge moved close, rested her warm hand on Judd’s forearm.

The touch seared his nerves, stung his thoughts and made him waver. But God’s justice took too long. His mother shouldn’t have to wait.

“Judd. I like that name. Suits you so much better than Justin.”

He covered her hand with his. “I like it better, too.” Especially the way she said it.

“Judd, I don’t want to see you hurt by taking on the role of avenger.”

Caught in her steady gaze, he couldn’t argue.

But he couldn’t agree either.

“I’ll not do anything wrong.”

She lowered her eyes, leaving him floundering for determination about his course of action.

“I pray you will learn God’s way is best.”

He squeezed her fingers. “I appreciate that.”

Neither of them moved. She kept her head down. He let himself explore the feel of her hand beneath his—strong from hard work and yet soft. Just like Madge herself.

LINDA FORD

shares her life with her rancher husband, a grown son, a live-in client she provides care for and a yappy parrot. She and her husband raised a family of fourteen children, ten adopted, providing her with plenty of opportunity to experience God’s love and faithfulness. They’ve had their share of adventures, as well. Taking twelve kids in a motor home on a three-thousand-mile road trip would be high on the list. They live in Alberta, Canada, close enough to the Rockies to admire them every day. She enjoys writing stories that reveal God’s wondrous love through the lives of her characters.

Linda enjoys hearing from readers. Contact her at linda@lindaford.org or check out her website, www.lindaford.org, where you can also catch her blog, which often carries glimpses of both her writing activities and family life.

The Cowboy Tutor

Linda Ford

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Love Inspired!

2012 is a very special year for us. It marks the fifteenth anniversary of Love Inspired Books. Hard to believe that fifteen years ago, we first began publishing our warm and wonderful inspirational romances.

Back in 1997, we offered readers three books a month. Since then we’ve expanded quite a bit! In addition to the heartwarming contemporary romances of Love Inspired, we have the exciting romantic suspenses of Love Inspired Suspense, and the adventurous historical romances of Love Inspired Historical. Whatever your reading preference, we’ve got fourteen books a month for you to choose from now!

Throughout the year we’ll be celebrating in several different ways. Look for books by bestselling authors who’ve been writing for us since the beginning, stories by brand-new authors you won’t want to miss, special miniseries in all three lines, reissues of top authors, and much, much more.

This is our way of thanking you for reading Love Inspired books. We know our uplifting stories of hope, faith and love touch your hearts as much as they touch ours.

Join us in celebrating fifteen amazing years of inspirational romance!

Blessings,

Melissa Endlich and Tina James

Senior Editors of Love Inspired Books

This book is in special memory of my mother who faced many challenges, including the Great Depression, tuberculosis and being mother to a blended family. As I read her journals and the articles she wrote, I see a woman who was hurt time and again by events and by the people she loved, and yet she determined to show nothing but kindness. Seeing her life through her eyes has given me a deep appreciation for her spirit. May her children arise and call her blessed.

* * *

What doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?

—Micah 6:8

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Golden Prairie, Alberta, Canada

Summer, 1932

Madge Morgan groaned as steam billowed from the hood of the old clunker that served as car, truck and general chore vehicle. “Why couldn’t you save your cantankerous behavior for two more blocks?” So close to her destination, yet so far. And she was late. Mrs. Crebs, her best and most demanding customer, had already warned Madge she wouldn’t pay to have her laundry done unless it was delivered spotless and on time.

Madge glanced about. She could either trudge back to the center of town and the public pump for water for the radiator and get to the Crebses’ late, or trundle down the street with the bundle of laundry. And still be late.

Her heavy sigh lifted her unruly bangs and provided a welcome breeze to her brow.

Better late than never. She only hoped Mrs. Crebs would agree. At least she couldn’t complain about the condition of her clothing and household articles. They were crisp and spotless.

She grabbed the bundle, staggering under the weight of six sets of sheets, all nicely pressed and folded, and an amazing collection of table linens, trousers and starched shirts, all done exactly as Mrs. Crebs desired. She draped the girls’ fresh dresses over her arm and plowed toward the imposing Crebs house. The stack blocked her view, but the path was straight and level right up to the front steps. Of course, she would dutifully take her armload around to the back door.

The wind pushed her dress about her legs and fought for ownership of the pile of laundry. A pair of sheets slithered sideways. Madge struggled to keep everything together. She should have tied the bundle with twine, but she hadn’t expected to trundle it down the street. She hurried on her way.

And hit a wall, staggered back and lost control of her load. “No!” Her wail was far from ladylike, but she was past caring as the laundry landed in the dirt, little clouds of dust greeting its arrival.

“No. No.” She swallowed back the scream tearing at her throat. No sense in announcing her problems to the neighborhood.

She saved her fury and frustration for the source of her problem—the wall shuddering her to a halt—a living, breathing wall that grunted at her impact. “Look what you’ve done.”

Black eyes snapped. She was certain he saw more than an ordinary man, and she almost quivered. Almost. She knew she’d never forget their intensity…nor the surprise in his voice giving it such deep tones.

“Me? You personally own this sidewalk or something?” He picked up his battered cowboy hat and slapped it against his leg before cramming it on his head, restricting his dark, overlong hair to a thick fringe around the brim. He had a square forehead and a firm mouth.

She suddenly remembered his question. “I own my share. What are you doing in the middle of the way?”

“Standing here. Minding my own business. Is that a criminal offense? First I heard of it.”

“Not criminal. Just…dumb.” The accident wasn’t his fault, and this whole conversation bordered on the absurd. “These things are as dirty as mud.” Mrs. Crebs was going to have a kitten. Probably a whole batch of them, squalling and demanding attention. Nothing to do but pick up the items and try to explain what happened. She reached for the scattered articles, now tossed into disarray by the relentless wind.

Seems the man had a similar notion and bent at exactly the same moment. They cracked heads.

“Ow.” She straightened and rubbed her brow.

“Ouch.” He grabbed after his hat, getting away in the incessant breeze.

The wind increased, picked up gritty dirt and pelted them. They turned their backs into the attack and waited for it to pass.

She scooped up flapping laundry. The starched-and-ironed tablecloth was no longer gleaming white. Mrs. Crebs would be offended, especially when she heard the whole thing had been witnessed in amusement by a couple of men on the sidewalk and several ladies peeking from their windows.

The man responsible for her predicament reached for a starched and now crumpled shirt. She snatched it from him.

“Only trying to help,” he murmured, sounding faintly amused.

“You’ve already done enough.” How was she going to explain this?

Despite her protests, he helped gather up garments and piled them in her arms. Fabric draped and flapped over her shoulders. She hesitated, annoyance and worry warring with good manners.

“You’re welcome,” the man said, grinning widely.

It wasn’t his fault. Yet whom else could she blame?

The foolishness of trying to place responsibility for this whole situation on anyone or anything was as silly as trying to attribute the drought, the depressed prices and life in general to someone. Her life, her future, was in God’s hands. Not man’s. Amusement smoothed her annoyance and relaxed her eyes.

He must have seen the change in her. His grin deepened.

She assessed this stranger. Handsome. Holding himself with strength and confidence. She’d already noted his dark eyes and how they probed. Realizing she stared, she looked away. “Sorry,” she gulped and slowly brought her gaze back to his. His wide grin erased the last flickers of annoyance, and she chuckled. “I don’t always run full force into strangers. Nor do I usually take out my frustrations on unsuspecting visitors. It’s just been that kind of day. I apologize.”

He touched the brim of his hat. “Not a problem. We all have our share of troubles these days.”

“Far too true.” If she didn’t take care of Mrs. Crebs, her difficulties would multiply several times. She tore her gaze away from the stranger and paused. “Are you staying in town?” Heat stung her eyes at the boldness of her question. Quickly, she added, “If so, welcome.” She fled with her embarrassment. Now the man would think her both cranky and a dolt.

Her feet slowed as the Crebses’ house came into view. Lord, help me be gracious. Help Mrs. Crebs be charitable and give me another chance. She sucked in a deep breath that did little to calm her nerves, and knocked on the back door.

Mrs. Crebs yanked it open as if she’d been waiting for Madge. Madge knew she would have been staring at the big clock hanging on the wall and clacking her fingernails against the table as she waited. “You’re late again. It’s inexcusable.” Then she saw her laundry and shrieked.

Madge grimaced at the shrill sound, then hurried to explain. “I had an accident. I’m sorry. I’ll take everything home and do it over. I promise it will be spotless.”

Mrs. Crebs snatched articles from Madge. “You’ve ruined my best tablecloth.”

“I’ll fix it.” She would fall on her knees and beg for another chance if it would do any good.

“Don’t bother. I’ve given you more than enough chances. I’ll find someone else. Someone I can trust. I’ve never heard of the Chinaman dumping laundry in the dirt.”

The door slammed in Madge’s face. Mrs. Crebs, with her five children, had been Madge’s best customer. Without the few dollars she made doing the Crebses’ washing, Madge would never scrape together enough for the upcoming mortgage payment.

The future looked bleak.

However, she would not entertain defeat. Somehow, with hard work and perseverance, she would earn the money. Lord, open up another opportunity for me. Please.

With no reason to hurry, she didn’t dash back to the car. Instead, she went out the back gate and headed for the church to pray. She desperately needed God’s help.

Judd Kirk watched the woman rush down the street. That had been an interesting encounter. The first thing he’d noticed about her—aside from the alarm on her face as the stack of linens had tumbled to the ground—had been the mass of wavy brown hair tugged by the wind. Her brown eyes had flashed as if driven by an inner urgency. He recognized the feeling…he’d personally dealt with his own inner force for the past year. She hurried down the street as if chasing after something beyond her reach.

He shifted his stance to study the reason he stood here. The silent house. Obviously still empty. For how long? He’d searched for the man since he’d returned home, as soon as his brother had informed him of the details. This was the closest he’d come to locating him—a house he understood had been rented by the one he sought.

He glanced around. Someone stood at a front gate and called across to a fellow sauntering down the sidewalk. Called him by name. They both watched Judd—noting the stranger in their midst. Golden Prairie was small enough that a fellow hanging about for no apparent reason would attract attention. And speculation. Notice would make him conspicuous and likely alert his prey to his presence.

Not something he needed or wanted. But he intended to stay until he completed his business. Best, however, if he blended into the surroundings.

What he needed was a job allowing him to hang around without raising questions.

Turning, he headed back toward the main street. The storekeeper would know what work was available, preferably out of town yet close enough to allow him to watch this place.

He clumped along the wooden sidewalk and stepped into the store. Dust hung in the air. The scent of leather and coal stung his nostrils. The shelves carried a good array of canned and dry goods. But the whole place held an air of defeat—much like the land around him. And its occupants. “Afternoon.”

“Uh-huh.” The bespectacled man nodded and gave him a long, unblinking study. “You another of Mrs. Morgan’s prospects?”

Judd had no idea what the man meant, but it seemed a trail that might lead somewhere. He would follow it and see. “Could be.”

“Well, you ain’t the first. In fact—” He tipped his head and seemed to count something on the inside of his eyelids. “Lesse, a young fella went out just a bit ago. He was number four. I guess that makes you number five.”

“Seems a lot.” But he didn’t know what they were talking about, so he had no idea if it was or not. Perhaps, with a little leading, the storekeeper would spare the information.

“Mrs. Morgan is a mite particular, especially concerning her eldest daughter, Miss Louisa. Frail she is. Not like Miss Madge. There she goes now.” He nodded toward the window at a vehicle chugging along, coughing and complaining.

In the car sat the young woman who, a short while ago, had steamed into Judd. Madge, the man said. Madge Morgan. Somehow the name suited her. Determined despite disagreeable odds.

The storekeeper languidly continued. “Now, there’s a hard worker. Ain’t nothing goin’ to stop her. No, siree. That gal has been fighting for a decent livelihood since Mr. Morgan died. Doin’ mighty fine, too.”

Judd followed the car’s erratic passage past the store. A fighter. And pretty, too. He brought his attention back to the information the storekeeper had hinted at. “What’s Mrs. Morgan looking for in particular?”

“Just what it says in the advertisement. Here it is if you need to refresh your memory.” He pointed to a newspaper clipping tacked by the cash register. “Don’t think she wanted us to know what she was up to but my brother found the ad in the city paper and sent me a copy.”

Judd leaned over to read:

WANTED: A GOOD MAN TO TEACH INVALID LADY FINER ASPECTS OF LANGUAGES AND ARTS. ROOM AND BOARD IN EXCHANGE FOR LESSONS. MUST BE A TRUE GENTLEMAN.

“A tutor?” Never expected that.

“Miss Louisa’s interested in learning.”

“How old is Miss Louisa?”

“Well, lessee. I think Miss Madge must be eighteen now, though she has more smarts than many twice her age. I guess that would make Miss Louisa nineteen. The three girls are pretty close in age.”

“Three?”

“Yup. There’s Sally, too. Guessin’ she’s seventeen. Miss Louisa’s the prettiest, but in my opinion, Miss Madge, now she’s the one a man should consider. Why, if I was twenty years younger…”

Judd stared as the man’s voice trailed off and red crept up his neck before he cleared his throat and shifted away.

“You say there’s been plenty of interest in the job.”

“Mrs. Morgan is particular. Hey, lookee, there’s number four now. Maybe ask him how it went.”

“I guess I might.” In private. He left the store, strode toward the approaching car and signaled the man to stop. “Hear you were out to the Morgan place.”

“Indeed I was. A most promising situation. I didn’t meet Miss Morgan, but I understand she is frail but eager with a goodly desire to learn. I believe her interests lean toward art history and literature, though I’m certain with a little guidance she will develop an equal keenness for science and Latin.” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “The mother is overprotective, which might pose a handicap, but I believe I could have success in overcoming that.” He sat up straighter, though he was small, so his effort to look important lacked impact.

“Well, good luck to you.” Judd stepped back and assessed the information as the man drove away. His years in university might prove productive after all, even if he hadn’t pursued being a teacher.

Yes, indeed, this job would serve his purposes very well.

A week later Madge sang as she hung another batch of laundry. Father had had no idea how the big room upstairs would be used, strung now with row after row of lines, providing a place to dry things away from the invading dust carried by the relentless winds buffeting the house and all God’s creatures.

It was her number one selling point in her offer to do laundry for others—the promise of sparkling white linens. The only way she could guarantee that was by hanging them indoors, out of the dust-laden wind.

She finished pegging the sheet on the line, removed the earlier items, now dry, and started ironing. Her pet cat, Macat, who kept her company as she worked, settled on the nearby stool and began a grooming ritual.

Doing laundry day after day was hard, relentless work, but it was satisfying to produce stacks of fresh sheets and crisp shirts she delivered in town to those people who still had money to pay for her services. Thank God for the few who seemed unaffected by the Depression. The coins she earned slowly collected in the old coffee can downstairs.

Through the open window she watched Sally dump the bucket of kitchen scraps to the chickens, then pause to look around. Her younger sister was quiet and content. Louisa, her older sister, seemed satisfied with her life, as well. Madge was the one with a restless drive to get things done. Without Madge’s constant prodding and working, the others might be lulled into complacency until the house was taken from them, never letting the specter of being homeless cross their minds. Even Mother’s concern didn’t match Madge’s determination that the family not end up in such a state.

Madge had managed to persuade one more lady to let her do part of her laundry—only the sheets and table linens, which she hesitated to hang out in the dust. Madge appreciated the job but it didn’t make up for the loss of wages her work for Mrs. Crebs had brought in.

As she folded items, she muttered to Macat, who watched her every move. “It’s going to be close.” In fact, too close for comfort after having been forced to buy a new tire for the car. She clattered down the stairs, Macat meowing at her heels. She ignored the cat’s demands, paused on her way through the kitchen to say hello to Sally, who sat surrounded by the mending, and Louisa in her lounge chair reading, with her little dog, Mouse, curled on her lap.

Madge hurried to the front room and Father’s desk. She opened the drop lid, scooped up the coffee can, sat down and slowly counted the change and few bills. Her cheeks grew taut, and she felt the heat seep from them. “It’s not all here.” She couldn’t believe it. Who would steal from their savings?

She scooped up Macat and held her close, comforting herself in the silky fur.

Mother paused at the doorway. “Madge?”

Madge struggled to form a thought. A word. “The money. Missing. Stolen.”

Mother slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. She patted Madge’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I took it. I meant to tell you but I—”

“Took it? Why?”

Mother glanced around to make sure they were alone, then whispered. “For Louisa.”

“More medicine?” Madge wouldn’t resent the expense. Louisa had had pneumonia a number of times. The disease left her lungs weak and required all of them to guard her health. Sometimes it seemed, no matter how hard Madge worked, Louisa’s illness ate up way too much of the money. Or the car bit into their savings—though she had figured out how to fix tires on her own, how to adjust the throttle and choke and how to wire things together in hopes they would limp through a few more days. She wished they still had a horse so she could resort to using a wagon. Mentally, she put it on the list. Perhaps someone would trade a horse for her labors. Then she’d need to figure out a way to get enough hay for another animal. She kept her attention on scratching Macat behind the ears, afraid Mother would see her worry and frustration if she lifted her head.

“Not medicine, dear.”

“Then what?” Medicine she understood. What else could there be? Though Mother had a habit of underestimating the expenses and the limited resources for earning money. Father had always protected Mother from the harsh realities of life, so even in these hard times, Mother remained optimistic, always believing things would somehow, as if by magic, fix themselves.

“I want to help Louisa find a husband.”

“You bought a man?” Madge couldn’t decide if she was more intrigued or shocked. How did one go about purchasing a man? How much did it cost? Did you get to select size, color, style? Her thoughts flitted unexpectedly to the man she had bumped into in town. She blinked away the memory of black eyes and dark hair and returned to considering Mother’s announcement.

If one bought a man, was there a money-back guarantee?

Mother pulled a clipping from her pocket and hesitated. “You must promise not to say anything.”

“Certainly.” Her curiosity grew to overwhelming proportions.

Mother unfolded the scrap of paper and handed it to her. “I placed this ad in a paper.”

Madge read the notice. Then she read it again. Mother had advertised for a teacher for Louisa. “It says nothing about marriage.”

Mother sat in Father’s chair—a sure sign of her mental state. Madge watched her closely. Was she hiding something?

“You know there are no eligible young men around. Most of them are in relief camps.”

Madge nodded. The government had created camps for the unemployed young men where they built roads, cut trees and did a number of labor jobs. The idea of work camps was fine. Give young men a place to sleep, food to eat and a job. Get them off the streets. But to her thinking, it only hid the problem. She bit her tongue to keep from saying what she thought of many of the prime minister’s political moves. Surely a smart man, a man from their own province even, could do something to stop this horrible decline.

Mother continued. “The rest are riding the rails, hoping to find a job somewhere or trying to avoid the relief camps.” She sighed long and hard. “I simply can’t stand by and let Louisa turn into an old maid, having to depend on her sisters to take care of her as she gets older.”

“Ma, she’s only nineteen.” She smiled as Macat jerked her head up and meowed as if agreeing with her.

“I was married and had her by that age.”

“I know.” Those were different times. Mother knew as well as anyone. No point in reminding her. “So the money…?”

“I used it to buy the ad for a tutor.”

“You actually found someone?”

“I did. A very nice man who starts today.”

Madge opened her mouth. Shut it with an audible click. Tried again. “You did all this behind my back?”

Mother smiled gently. “I felt I had to do something. I know we need the money for the payment, but I thought the wages from Mrs. Crebs and the other jobs you’ve picked up would be enough.” She paused a beat. “On my part, I can cut down on expenses. We don’t need meat as often as we’ve been eating it. We’ll trust God to provide and do our best to live wisely.” Her look begged Madge to understand.

None of them had expected Mrs. Crebs to be so miffed.

She squeezed Mother’s hands. “And this man you hired?”

“He seems ideal for Louisa—gentle, well-educated…. I know I can count on you to do everything you can to help me in this. But please don’t say anything to Louisa about my ulterior motives. You know how offended she’d be.”

Madge nodded, even though she felt as if she had hung her sister from a tree to be plucked like ripe fruit. “You’re sure he’s a good gentleman?”

“If he’s not, I will personally run him off the place with a hot poker.”

Madge chuckled at the sudden spurt of spunk her mother revealed. Sometimes she suspected she and Mother were more alike than Mother cared to confess. “I’ll do what I can to help the cause, but if I suspect he’s not suitable, I will be right at your side with another hot poker.”

The two of them laughed. Mother patted Madge’s hand. “I can always count on you.” Her expression faltered. “However, I didn’t expect my decision would come at such a bad time.”

Madge couldn’t bear to have her mother worried. “I’m sure things will work out.” She wouldn’t burden her mother with the fear rippling up her spine.

Mother nodded, accepting Madge’s reassurance. “Now I best get back to the kitchen before the girls wonder what we’re up to. By the way, the gentleman arrives this afternoon.”

Madge waited for her departure, then studied the funds in the can. How was she to pay the mortgage? She’d have to find another job, earn more money, perhaps speak to the banker about a few days’ grace. She rubbed the back of her neck. Where was she going to find someone willing and able to pay for any kind of work?

Lord, I can’t help but worry. The idea of the four of us being out on the street is enough to cause me concern. Lord, it’s beyond me to see how to fix this. However, I know You are in control. Please send an answer my way before we lose our house.

Maybe this tutor, poor unsuspecting man, might offer a future for Louisa. Madge giggled, picturing him. No doubt gray-haired and asthmatic. But Louisa would never pay a mind to such things so long as he was attentive and educated. She paused to pray he was everything Mother expected before she returned the can to the desk and closed the drop lid. Time to return to washing and ironing. She sat Macat on the floor and headed back upstairs with her pet purring at her heels.

A while later, dinner over, she hung about waiting for the arrival of the expected man.

Louisa had primped and put on her best dress. She had gathered up her favorite books. “I’m going to ask him if he’s read these. That way I’ll know what we can talk about.”

Madge never quite understood Louisa’s fascination with books and ideas. Since she was small, Madge preferred to be outdoors. It turned out to be a good thing she’d followed her father relentlessly, begging to help. After his death three years ago, she stepped into his role and took care of the chores and so much more. They’d had to let most of the land go, but Madge had insisted they must keep enough for a milk cow and her calf. Again, she wished she’d kept a horse, as well. But looking back was useless.

Sally shoved aside the stockings she had been carefully darning. “I’m going to the garden to see if I can find any greens left after that last blow.”

Mother stopped her. “Sally, I want you to meet this man first.”

Sally sat back down with a soft sigh. Madge wanted to make her face life squarely. Why was Sally so shy? Seemed Madge had gotten too much boldness and Sally none.

“Very well, Mother,” Sally murmured, twisting her hands and looking so miserable Madge had to quell her frustration. At least Mother didn’t relent and let her go, as she often did.

Mother pulled aside the curtain. “He’s coming.” She sat down and feigned disinterest.

Not prepared to pretend she wasn’t filled with curiosity, Madge planted herself in front of the window. Macat climbed to the ledge to join her. “He’s driving a Mercedes Roadster. About a 1929 model, if I’m not mistaken. Makes our old Model A look as pathetic as it is. He must have washed his car before he left town.”

“Madge, get away from the window. He’ll think we’re spying.”

“Mother, I am spying. And if he thinks we shouldn’t be interested, well… He’s getting out now.” She laughed aloud. “And he’s wiping the dust from the fenders. If he figures to keep his pretty car dust free he’ll have a full-time job.”

Louisa hissed. “Madge, stop staring. He’ll think we have no manners.”

“No. He’ll think I have no manners. You’d never give him reason to think it of you.”

Louisa giggled.

Madge didn’t have to look to know her pretty sister had blushed becomingly. Everything Louisa did was pretty and becoming.

“I couldn’t stand to work with a man who wasn’t clean and tidy,” Louisa said.

“Well, this one is downright fastidious. And he’s headed this way.” Madge turned from the window. But only to move toward the door to invite the man in. And give him a good once-over before she allowed him to spend time with her older sister.

She waited for the knock, then pulled the door open. The man before her sported a beard. His hair was short and tamed. His dusty suit hung on his body as if he’d recently lost weight. His subdued coloring supported the idea. He seemed faintly familiar. As she stared, he turned away and coughed.

“Excuse me, ma’am. I’m here to tutor Miss Louisa.”

“Have we met before?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Didn’t I run into you on the sidewalk a week ago? Literally.”

“Ma’am. I’m sure I would recall such a thing.”

She stared into dark eyes. They no longer probed, but she would never forget them. Yet no flicker of recognition echoed in the man’s face.

Could she be mistaken? She tried to recall every detail of the encounter. Certainly this man looked tidier, wore schoolteacher clothes, and slouched—but the eyes. How could she be confused about them?

She hesitated, not yet inviting him in. What reason would he have for pretending she hadn’t seen him before? And why did her heart feel shipwrecked at the idea of Mother choosing this man for Louisa?

Madge sucked in bracing air, straightened her shoulders and stepped back. She was not one to entertain fanciful ideas. Not Madge Morgan, who was practical to the core.

“Please, come in.” Whoever he was, whatever he hid, she’d watch him so keenly he’d never succeed in doing anything but what he was meant to do—tutor Louisa.

Chapter Two

Judd knew she recognized him, but it was imperative he remain incognito. He’d grown his beard, cut his hair and changed his appearance as much as possible. He’d even found a suit coat that hung on him, hoping to persuade anyone who cared to notice that he’d lost a lot of weight. Of necessity he would give a false name, for if his prey heard his real one, he might suspect something. He did not want the man warned and cautious.

Mrs. Morgan joined her daughter. “Madge, this is the man I told you is to tutor Louisa. Justin Bellamy. Please come in, Mr. Bellamy.”

Judd limped into the room. He figured a lame leg and poor lungs would complete his disguise.

He immediately saw the young woman who would be his pupil. A chinalike beauty in a pale pink dress sat beside a table laden with textbooks and sketch paper. A small white dog with black spots sat on her lap, studying Judd with interest. He figured Louisa’s hands on the dog’s back persuaded the animal not to go into attack mode. Though the dog would offer little threat.

“My daughter, Louisa.”

Judd bowed. “Ma’am, I understand you’re interested in furthering your education.”

Louisa smiled—sweet and gentle—a marked contrast to the decisive study from Madge, who followed him across the room like a cat watching a pigeon, waiting for the right time to pounce.

He sucked in air and remembered to slouch as if it hurt to walk. She could play guard cat all she wanted. He refused to have his feathers ruffled.

As if to reinforce Judd’s feeling of being stalked, a big gray cat jumped from the window ledge and sauntered over to examine the toes of his boots.

Louisa spoke, drawing his attention back to her. “I’d love to go to university. Unfortunately…” She trailed off, but he understood the many things she didn’t say. It was too costly. Her health wouldn’t allow it. It simply wasn’t practical. But she was fortunate her mother cared enough about her thirst for knowledge to hire a tutor. He would do what he could to satisfy her.

“It’s a stimulating environment. I’ll do my best to share some of what I learned.”

She leaned forward, eagerness pouring from her in waves. “I especially want to learn the history of the great artists. And if you would be so good as to…” Her voice fell to a whisper. “Tell me what it’s like to be surrounded by so much learning, so much knowledge.” As if uncomfortable with her burst of enthusiasm, she ducked her head, but not before he’d seen the flood of pink staining her cheeks.

“I’ll do my very best.”

To his left he could feel Madge building up a boiler full of steam.

Mrs. Morgan saved them both from the explosion he feared would sear the skin off him. “This is my youngest daughter, Sally.”

Judd turned, noticed for the first time the younger girl shrinking back against her chair at the far side of the table.

Her gaze darted to him and away. Then she lifted her head and gave him a sweet smile. “Welcome, Mr. Bellamy.”

“Justin, please.” He’d never remember he was Mr. Bellamy, but at least Justin started the same as Judd, which is why he’d chosen the name. He remembered to cough as he glanced around the circle of women. Madge’s gaze waited, hot and demanding. He gave his most innocuous look, rounding his eyes in faux innocence.

“I’ll show you to your quarters,” Madge said, her voice full of warning. “Then you can get to work.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She pulled her lips into a terse expression, and her eyes narrowed before she spun around.

He followed her swift stride outside, his own pace slow and measured, though he fought an urge to march to her side and match her step for step. As the wind blasted him in the face, he gave a cough for good measure.

She waited by his car. “Get your things and follow me. It’s just across the yard.”

Mrs. Morgan had said he’d have his own private quarters when he spoke to her in town, having arranged an interview there. Another reason to convince him he wanted this job. He would be able to slip in and out unnoticed as he tracked his foe.

He followed her to a tiny house—one small window, a narrow door and a low roof. She opened the door and stepped inside with him at her heels. Only the wall facing the yard was boards. The others were sod. “It’s a—”

“A soddie. Yes. The original house. I hope you’ll be comfortable.” The tone of her voice suggested she wished anything but. “The bed’s made up. There’re shelves for your belongings.”

She’d been waving at things as she talked but now spun on him. Her gaze raked him. “I know you’re the man I saw before. If you’re up to no good, I’ll soon enough find out.”

“Miss Madge, you must be mistake—”

“Don’t Miss Madge me, Justin Bellamy. Whatever your scheme, I’ll not let you harm my family.” She marched for the door—all of three steps away. “You’ll be taking meals with us. Supper is at six, which gives you time to earn your keep by teaching Louisa something she wants to learn.”

Judd watched her until she slammed into the house. Her suspicions were going to make his stay complicated, but he’d simply have to be extra cautious. He hated being dishonest, but he didn’t have much choice.

He recalled Madge’s anger when she’d plowed into him on the sidewalk. Remembered how she’d relented and chuckled. Too bad she couldn’t find humor in this situation. He’d love to hear her laugh again, see her eyes flash with amusement.

He flung his bag on the bed. He was not here to let pretty brown eyes confuse him. On the surface he was here to teach Louisa history and other subjects.

His real reason, however, would never take second place to his job. And if he felt any tug of regret that his dishonesty made an enemy out of Madge, he firmly ignored it.

Madge returned to the house. She’d been churning out clean sheets all morning and hauling them upstairs to hang and dry. She still had two more tubs to do, but she welcomed the chance to stomp up and down the stairs, huffing and puffing. Macat, sensing her mistress’s mood, climbed to her perch on the stool and observed with narrowed eyes.

“I’ll keep this to myself,” she muttered to the cat. “No need to worry Mother or Sally or frighten Louisa, but that man is hiding something.”

But what? And why did it make her so cross?

She hated herself for denying the truth and even more for admitting it, but since she’d bumped into him a week ago, she’d thought of him once or twice—dark, intense eyes full of honesty. Or so she’d believed. She snorted. “Honest, indeed. That man is lying through his teeth.”

But then, so was she. Thought of him once or twice? Ha. But she did not want to admit the truth… He came to her mind almost constantly.

She pretended she didn’t notice him return from the cabin with two books under his arm. Instead, she rushed upstairs with the last load of wet laundry, and muttered protests as she hung the sheets.

Only when she was certain he would be ensconced in the front room with Louisa did she clatter down the stairs, rushing past the doorway without allowing herself to glance in. Macat followed at a leisurely pace, protesting Madge’s haste.

Madge’s emotions gave strength to her muscles, and she carried the wash water, two buckets at a time, to the garden where she rationed a drink to the few surviving plants. Whatever they raised was essential for providing adequate food, so she’d constructed wooden windbreaks around the plants in the hopes of nursing them through the dust storms and drought. Still, they didn’t promise more than a bit of cabbage or a few scrawny potatoes.

She drove off the grasshoppers, only to watch hordes more replace them.

She paused from her labors to glance toward the heavens. God, You see our situation and that of so many people. Please send relief. And make it possible for me to find more paying work or some source of income.

Trusting God was difficult when the circumstances offered nothing but failure. But as long as she could remember, she’d made it a practice to trust Him. She never doubted His love. It was as solid as the Rock of Gibraltar—as Father had always said. His love surely meant He would meet their needs. Having a home seemed pretty essential to her, especially given that they had no male protection and Louisa was frail.

She drew in a deep breath and settled her assurance on God’s provision before she returned to the washtubs and turned them over to dry. Until tomorrow, when she would begin another stack of laundry.

Finished with that part of the task, she stepped inside and paused to watch Louisa and Justin bent over a book. Harrumph. She knew he was hiding something.

Louisa glanced up, a glitter of pleasure in her eyes.

Instantly, guilt flooded Madge’s lungs. Mother had approved this man. Decided he was an appropriate candidate for Louisa. Seeing Louisa’s enjoyment after an hour shamed Madge. She had no reason to be so distrustful or so—

Lord, help me. Not only am I suspicious, but I am annoyed because I saw him first. Unless he has a stronger twin.

She could always hope.

By the time Madge had finished ironing and taken care of a few outdoor chores, Sally announced supper. Madge had decided to give Justin the benefit of the doubt until she had something more solid than a chance encounter on the street to base her suspicions on.

Mother and Sally had the meal almost ready, but Madge helped place the serving dishes on the table. She noted with a mixture of gratitude and annoyance that the extra plate had been placed besides Louisa’s, which put Justin across from her. Not that it mattered where he sat, but perhaps this was the best place for him. From this position she could steal glances at him, perhaps catch something in his eyes he couldn’t hide.

Besides the dark intensity she recalled.

Mother announced the meal was served, and they sat around the table, Justin taking the indicated spot. Knowing her expression would give away things she didn’t want known—like interest and regret—she kept her head lowered until Mother said the blessing.

For a few minutes they were busy passing food. Somehow Mother and Sally managed to make their meager supplies stretch to satisfying meals. Tonight the hunk of meat she’d received in lieu of wages from one of her customers had been ground and mysterious ingredients added until it looked generous and succulent. The aroma had teased her taste buds for the past hour. Sally had managed to scrounge enough lamb’s quarters for rich greens and had stolen new potatoes from under the plants in the garden. Two small, tasty nuggets each. Now, with a man sharing meals, they would have to make food go further. Justin Bellamy had better prove his worth.

Madge had almost balked at accepting the meat instead of getting the cash she needed, but tonight she was grateful for good food.

“This is wonderful,” Justin said. “I haven’t eaten this well in months.”

“You can credit Sally with her inventiveness,” Mother said.

Justin turned to Sally. “Thank you, Miss Sally.”

Sally ducked her head. Always so painfully shy. Madge supposed it came from being the youngest. Then she flashed Justin a bright smile. “You’re welcome.”

Madge studied Justin, assessing his reaction to Sally’s gratitude. But he only gave a slight smile and a quick nod. Then, before she could look away, his gaze shot to her. “You have a very nice home.”

She nodded. “No need to sound surprised.”

“Madge!” Mother scolded.

But Justin laughed. “I’m not at all surprised.”

Did she detect a hint of acknowledgement? As if admitting they’d met earlier?

“Tell me more about yourselves.” He held Madge’s gaze a moment longer, then shifted to include the others. “How long have you lived here?”

Madge held her tongue for almost a second, but she burst with insistent curiosity and the words poured forth. “Surely you and Louisa have discussed this.” After all, they had sat almost head to head, undisturbed, all afternoon. A little sting of jealousy shocked her. She couldn’t resent the time he spent with Louisa. That’s why he was here.

“No. It’s been strictly business.”

Louisa blushed. “He told me of the first day in college when there are get-acquainted parties. He says within a few days it’s easy to tell those who want to learn from those who only want to have fun. Or freedom from parental control.” She drew in a rough breath. “I can’t imagine wasting such an opportunity.” Her sigh was long and shaky.

Madge stuffed back any remnants of resentment. She’d always been able to do what she wanted—work, run, play, ride—whereas Louisa’s activities had been shaped by her weak lungs. She must not resent any scraps of happiness her sister found.

Not even if they involved a man like Justin—a man about whom she held suspicions and a lurking sense of something else, which would remain nameless and denied.

Mother took on the job of telling Justin about the family. “We moved here from the city of Edmonton six years ago. My husband wanted to farm. We bought this place and built a new house.” She sighed. “In hindsight, perhaps we should have been satisfied with something much smaller, but at the time the economy was so bright. My husband died unexpectedly three years ago—just before the crash. At least he was spared that.”

Somehow Madge didn’t think Father would be as glad as Mother seemed to think. He’d surely have wanted to shepherd them through this crisis, see they were safe and sheltered. They needed him now like never before. But obviously the Lord thought otherwise.

“I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sure it’s been tough to manage.”

Justin sounded as if Mother’s loss really mattered to him. Did he understand how hard life was? Truly, without assurance that God would take care of them, there were times Madge wondered how they would make it through another month.

“The situation is difficult for everyone. We are perhaps more fortunate than some,” Mother said.

“How’s that?”

Madge continued to study him, drawn inexorably by the gentle concern in his voice. Their gazes touched, and he held the look for a moment before sliding away, leaving her feeling washed and exposed. She must guard her thoughts better, lest he guess at her confusion of interest and caution.

Mother spoke her name, and Madge shifted her attention to hear her words. “Madge has kept us all afloat.”

Madge revealed nothing in her expression. None of the agony some of her decisions had caused as Mother explained how she’d negotiated a deal to give the bulk of their land to the bank in exchange for keeping the house and a mortgage they could manage. She might soon be forced to admit it was too much if God didn’t provide an answer to her prayer for another job, another source of income.

After a few minutes she interrupted the discussion. “It’s your turn. Tell us about your family and where you’re from.”

Judd hauled his thoughts to a halt. He didn’t want the conversation focused on him. He’d tried to plan what he could reveal and what he must hide. Figured he had it worked out satisfactorily, but still he didn’t like the thought of having to tell half-truths in order to keep his identity a secret. Besides, he’d enjoyed hearing how Madge managed to save their home. And not just save the home to live like paupers. These people ate decently and were together. Not everyone could claim such success.

His jaw tightened. His own mother could testify to that, but it wasn’t her fault things had turned out as they had.

Four pairs of eyes silently urged him to share. One pair, especially, challenged him. He’d tried to divide his attention equally among those at the table, but again and again, his gaze left the others to watch Madge. She wore a practical brown dress. Her glistening brown hair tumbled about as if it had a mind of its own.

Aware they waited for his answer, he pulled his thoughts back from concentrating on Madge. “My mother is a widow, too. She’s had a difficult time because of the reversal of her fortunes.”

Mrs. Morgan sighed. “The crash hit so many people. Now the drought is touching even those who had no money to lose in the first place. On top of that, the low prices for our products…why, wheat is down to twenty-eight cents a bushel. How can farmers hope to survive?”

They all shook their heads. He let them think his mother had lost everything in the collapse of the financial markets. Only in her case, it was a scoundrel who’d brought about her personal crash.

Mrs. Morgan continued. “At least she has you to help.”

“And three more sons.”

“Four boys?” Mrs. Morgan perked up.

He wondered if she regretted having only daughters.

“I expect your mother is well taken care of.”

“She is now.” Shoot. He shouldn’t have said “now.” Four pairs of eyebrows shot upwards, and four pairs of eyes demanded an explanation. Aware of an especially intense gaze from across the table, he turned to Mrs. Morgan, afraid his emotions might reveal themselves despite his best intentions. Could he explain without giving away more than was safe? “We didn’t realize how badly she needed help. She had too much pride to confess it. Somehow she managed to hide it even from Levi, who is still living at home.”

“Tell us about your brothers. Is Levi the youngest?”

“Yes. He’s seventeen. Redford is the next one. He’s teaching. Has been for…well, he’s twenty-three, so I guess he’s been teaching four years now. Then Carson is a lawyer. He’s a year younger than I am.”

“How old would that make him?” Madge demanded.

Judd tucked away a smile. Curious about him, was she? Even though she watched him with as much concentration as did Louisa’s small dog. “Carson is twenty-five.”

They studied each other across the table, measuring, assessing. He wished he didn’t have to conceal the truth about who he was. But he did. Determination stiffened his muscles, making his mouth tighten.

Her eyes narrowed. “How did you hurt your leg?”

“Madge!” Mrs. Morgan sounded as if she couldn’t believe her daughter, though whether because her question was so bold or because of the hint of mockery in her voice.

“I got thrown from a wild horse.” At least that part was true.

Louisa gasped. “A wild horse? Why would you be riding such a creature?”

“My job was to break him. I decided to do it the fast way. Only it proved to be the slow way for me. Someone else had to finish the job while I lay around recuperating.” Again, that part was true.

Madge squinted at him. “I thought you were a teacher. Isn’t that why you went to university?”

He chuckled, pleased he confounded her with the truth. “After a year of teaching I realized I didn’t really like the job, so I let Redford apply for the position and I headed to the foothills. That’s where I was when my mother lost her home.” If he’d been around, he might have seen what was happening. Perhaps been able to stop it.

Instead, he’d been away, unaware of events, but he aimed to right things as best he could now. The man responsible for his mother’s loss would not escape without somehow paying. Judd didn’t much care how, so long as he paid. He’d watch the man, see what he planned, who he picked for his next victim, then confront him, expose him to one and all, make him own the truth and then turn him over to the law. He wondered if the courts would make him repay his victims. Sometimes he considered taking the law into his own hands but so far had listened to the voice of reason—or moderation, perhaps—drilled into him by his mother.

“Where is your mother living now?”

Mrs. Morgan’s question pulled him back to the watchful interest of Madge and the quiet curiosity of her sisters. “Mother and Levi found a good home with Carson in Regina, Saskatchewan.”

“I’m glad. It must be a relief for her.”

“And me.”

Mrs. Morgan’s gaze softened. “Your mother is blessed to have sons who care about her.”

“She’s doubly blessed. Her faith has never faltered. She’s certain God will take care of her no matter what.” She’d repeated the words over and over as she tried to make Judd understand the man who stole her money shouldn’t be hunted down and tied to a fence to dry. “‘God,’ she’d said, ‘is in control. He will see to justice.’”

“As do I,” Mrs. Morgan said. “Girls, I want to assure you I interviewed Justin at length about his faith, and he convinced me he is a strong believer.”

At her faith in him, guilt burned up Judd’s throat. He certainly believed in God, had become a Christian when he was only eight, but he wasn’t willing to sit back and wait for God to take care of things that were in his power to deal with. Like the man who stole his mother’s life savings.

“Where were you when you broke your leg?” Madge sounded like Carson with his best lawyer voice. Her question was more than a question; it was a demand for an explanation.

“On a ranch in the foothills of Alberta.”

“A cowboy.” She sounded as if that explained everything.

His heart fell as he realized his words verified her suspicions about meeting him on the street a week ago when he’d been dressed as a cowboy rather than a teacher. In hindsight, it might have been better to disguise that fact. But it was too late now. Somehow he had to convince her—all of them—he was no longer a cowboy. He shrugged and remembered to cough. “It seemed like a good idea at the time, but it’s not as romantic and adventuresome as one might think. It’s mostly hard, unrelenting work that wears many a man down to the bone.” He spoke the truth—a relief to his burning conscience, though it wasn’t an opinion he shared.

“Wouldn’t the fresh air be good for your lungs?” Madge asked, her voice signaling a touch of disbelief.

“Madge, I’m sure Justin doesn’t care to have his health problems as part of our conversation.”

Madge gave her mother an apologetic smile, then fixed Judd with an uncompromising look. He didn’t claim any special powers at reading a woman’s mind, but he got her loud and clear. She silently warned him she would be challenging everything he said and did.

He would have to guard his words and steps carefully.

She pulled her gaze away and pushed back from the table. “It’s getting late. I’ve lingered too long. Sally, Mother, do you mind if I don’t assist with dishes tonight? I still have to get the cow and calf home and milk the cow. I have laundry to deliver to two customers as well as pickup for tomorrow’s customers.”

“I’ll help you.” Judd pushed back, then remembered his frail health and struggled with getting his breath. He’d watched her pack heavy baskets of wet laundry up the stairs. Fought an urge to assist as she’d emptied the tubs.

“No need.”

Louisa released a sigh, causing Judd to think she’d been holding her breath for a long time. “I wondered if we could do more lessons tonight.”

“Louisa, I don’t want you overtaxed,” Mrs. Morgan said. “Besides, I told Justin he would have the evenings to do as he wished.”

“Of course, Mother.”

Judd already realized how hungry Louisa was to learn. If the students he’d had in school had been half as eager, he might have found teaching a little more rewarding. But even then it wouldn’t have satisfied his love of wide-open spaces. Ranching had called to him. It was still in his blood. As soon as he finished with this other business, he’d head west again and perhaps find a place where he could start his own little ranch.

“I don’t need help.” Madge interrupted his thoughts. “But you’re welcome to accompany me. I could show you around a bit.”

The warning in her eyes let him know she had more in mind than friendly welcome. His lungs twisted with anticipation.

Mental dueling with Miss Madge might prove to be a lot of fun.

Chapter Three

“Where are we going?” Justin asked as he limped along beside her.

Her first thought had been to stride as fast as usual, leaving him to catch up as best he could, but she’d invited him to accompany her for a specific reason—to try to discover who he really was—the cowboy she’d seen on the street or this weak, namby-pamby man who seemed to prefer books to cows and horses. She’d glimpsed eagerness as he’d talked about ranching. Unintentional, she was certain. But it made her more curious. More convinced he hid something. More confused on how she felt about him.

“I’m forced to take the pair wherever I can find something for them to eat, even if it’s only weeds, which make the milk taste awful. Louisa needs the nourishment.”

“How do you plan to feed them through the winter?”

The question was continually on her mind. “I’ve kept the calf for butcher.” Feeding another animal strained her resources, but if she could provide adequate food for the family… “I hope I can trade some of the meat for winter fodder.”

“Though if no one has any feed…”

She knew as well as he how scarce hay would be. “Perhaps we can get some shipped in.”

“Or might be a farmer is giving up and ready to part with what he’s scraped together.”

“In exchange for cash, which is as hard to find as hay.”

They fell into a contemplative silence. Suddenly she realized how easy it had been to talk to him about her problems, how comfortable they’d fit into each other’s strides, even with his limp, and how she ached to tell him everything crowding her brain. But she didn’t trust him, she didn’t want to be attracted to him, and even though she’d seen him first, he was Mother’s pick for Louisa. Her protests chased through her thoughts like runaway children. “I must hurry. The cow will be begging to be milked by now.” She lengthened her stride, forcing him to step, hop and limp to keep up. She slowed and chuckled.

He caught up to her and coughed a little, though she noted he wasn’t out of breath.

“Something funny?” he asked.

“Yes. Us. Look at me. My chin stuck out, rushing across the prairie like I’m trying to outrun a fire, while you hop along like a rabbit with a broken foot. Anyone seeing us would surely shake their head in disbelief.” She laughed again, then realized how he might interpret her comments and clamped a hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to mock your limp.”

He only laughed, his eyes flashing with amusement. His dark gaze held hers as she gave another nervous laugh. She wasn’t sure if she should be embarrassed more by her ill-considered comment, her continuing suspicion or the way her heart lurched as his look invited her into exciting territory full of adventure, excitement and something she couldn’t…wouldn’t…try to identify—a sense of connection.

She tore her gaze away and forced her steps toward the little slough where she’d found some dried grass for the cow. The cow’s desperate lowing reached her, followed by the bleating of the calf. They directed her thoughts sharply back to her responsibilities. She’d tethered them so the calf couldn’t suck the cow and steal the precious milk. “The cow needs milking. The calf needs feeding.”

“Sounds like a song.” He repeated the words, setting them to a rousing camp tune. “And the wind keeps blowing till my mind is numb.” He added several more verses, each more mournful than the first, yet comical, and she laughed.

“I see you missed your calling. You should be in the entertainment world.”

He grinned, a look so teasing and inviting her mouth went dry. “I don’t have a hankering for being pelted with rotten tomatoes when I jest about how hard times are.”

She lifted one shoulder in resignation and acknowledgement. “Might as well laugh as cry, I say.”

“Amen.”

She allowed one brief glance at him. Remnants of his amusement remained, and something more that she recognized as determination—an echo of her own heart. “And do what one can to make things better.”

“Exactly.”

Her brief glance had gone on longer than she should have allowed. Thankfully they reached the struggling trees at the almost dry slough, and she hurried to release the cow. When she turned to do the same for the calf, Justin already held the rope. Together they headed for home. Usually she had her hands full keeping the calf away from the cow, but with Justin helping it was a lot easier, and they reached the barn in short order.

She turned the cow into the stall. “Do you mind putting the calf in that pen over there? There’s a bit of grain for it.”

He did as she asked, then lounged against a post, watching as she milked. Usually she found the time relaxing, but not under his study. “You don’t need to stay here.”

“See no reason to leave. Unless you want me to.”

Did she? Of course she did. Even if she didn’t suspect him of something dishonest, even if he was the spotless character Mother seemed to think he was, he held no interest for her. Mother hoped he’d be a match for Louisa.

So why then did she shake her head? “Of course not. Thanks for your help.” She returned to the soothing rhythm of milking, as aware of Justin’s presence as if he shouted and yodeled rather than waited quietly.

She finished, poured some milk into a trough for the calf and headed for the house to strain the rest for the family. Sally took the pail as she stepped inside.

“I’ll take care of this. You go deliver the laundry.”

“Thanks.”

A few minutes later, Madge sat behind the wheel of their reluctant automobile and tried not to envy Justin his better car. Justin had continued to follow her and, without seeking permission, climbed in beside her. Obviously he meant to accompany her. She couldn’t find the strength to suggest otherwise. Besides—she clung to her excuse—she might discover something about him he didn’t mean for her to find.

The clean laundry, smelling of soap and hot irons, sat in neat piles behind them, covered with an old sheet to protect it from the dust.

When they arrived at her first delivery point, he got out and grabbed a basket.

“I can manage. I do all the time.”

“Yeah. I guessed that.” He led the way up the sidewalk. “You remind me of my mother.”

“Should I be insulted to be compared to an older woman or flattered it’s your mother?”

He chuckled. “I meant you are independent just like her. She could have let us know she was in trouble, but she didn’t. Even when we found out, we practically had to force her to tell us the truth. When the bank foreclosed on her house, she insisted she and Levi could find a place somewhere. It took all of us talking fast and hard to convince her to move in with Carson.”

“She sounds like a strong woman.” Even as she spoke, Madge shuddered. “I intend to see we don’t lose our house. I think Mother and I could manage, but Louisa would suffer ill health from the upset. Who knows what Sally would do? At times she seems ready to conquer any challenge, yet at other times I fear a harsh word will destroy her.” Why she was telling him all this left her as puzzled as Sally often did in her reactions to life.

They reached the door, so conversation came to a halt. Madge handed over the clean items and received a few coins. She tucked the money into her deep pocket to add to the coffee can when she got home. The payment was due next week, and she knew without counting she would never make it.

“I need something special to happen,” she muttered, then wondered if she’d lost her mind to utter the words aloud.

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind.” She eased the automobile down the street to her next delivery. Again, Justin insisted on carrying the basket to the door. Thankfully, the distance was short, making conversation impossible.

She drove three blocks and picked up another batch of laundry.

“Seems to me you’re working hard, finding ways to cope. What is it you’re worried about?”

She snorted. “We’re in a depression. No jobs. No money. Drought. Poor prices. What isn’t there to worry about?”

“I hear ya. But not all those things touch each of us personally. For instance, you have work. You have a source of food and your house.”

“For now,” she muttered, immediately wanting to smack herself for revealing more than she intended. This wasn’t his problem. She didn’t even trust him, for goodness’ sake. Why would she want to share her problems with him?

“Your house is still mortgaged?”

She grunted. Let him take it for agreement or not. Whatever he wanted. She didn’t intend to discuss this with him.

“Are you in danger of losing it?” His quiet words flushed through her, leaving a trickle of anger and determination.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” She took the corner too fast and skidded. Let him think about that instead of talking about losing the house. She couldn’t contemplate the possibility. Her anger fled as quickly as it came. “I’m not worried. God has promised to take care of us. I simply have to believe He will.” Though it would require divine intervention within the next few days.

“There again, you sound like my mother.”

She glanced at him and gave a tight smile that did not budge the determination tightening the skin around her eyes. “She must be a good woman.”

He grinned. “I think so.” His gaze lingered. Did he think the same of her?

And what difference did it make if he did?

She tried to think of all the reasons it didn’t matter, but for a moment, for the space of a heartbeat—for the time it took to blink away from his gaze—she let herself imagine he had complimented her, and she allowed herself to enjoy the thought.

She headed out of town toward the farm. Her journey took her past the Mayerses’ place. Young Kenny stood at the end of the garden, a few feet from the edge of the road. She squinted at him. “What’s he doing?”

“Best I can guess is he’s taking the chickens for a walk.”

She sputtered in surprise. “Never heard of walking chickens.” But indeed the boy had half a dozen hens tethered by a foot and marched them up and down the end of the garden.

Madge crawled to a halt and leaned out her window. “Kenny, what are you doing?”

“Ma says the chickens have to eat the grasshoppers before they get to the plants.” He sounded as mournful as the distant train whistle. “Says I have to keep them here until dark.”

“Sounds like a chore.”

“It’s boring. Stupid chickens wouldn’t stay here, so I roped ’em. Now they got nothing to do but chase hoppers.” One chicken tore after a hopper to Kenny’s right. Two others squawked at the disturbance and flapped in the opposite direction. Kenny had his hands full keeping everything sorted out.

“Well, have fun,” Madge called as she drove away. She didn’t dare look at Justin until they were well out of Kenny’s hearing, then she saw him struggling as much as she was to contain amusement.

They started to laugh. Madge laughed until her stomach felt emptied and her heart refreshed. She gasped for air and dried her eyes. “Never seen that before.”

Justin shook his head. “Thought I’d seen every kind of critter that could be led. ’Course, the chickens weren’t exactly cooperating, were they? I think poor Kenny is going to end up trussed by his feathered herd.”

They burst into fresh gales of laugher as she turned into the yard. The laughter died as they approached the house. She slid a worried look at him. Would he think her silly? But his eyes brimmed with amusement and something as warm as fresh milk, as sweet as clover honey and as forbidden as taking candy from a baby. Yet she couldn’t deny the way his glance sought and found a place deep inside where it seemed to fit perfectly.

She tore her gaze away and delivered a firm lecture to herself. Everything about this man was wrong, wrong, wrong. For starters, she knew he was hiding something. Plus, he had been handpicked as a suitable mate for Louisa. What kind of woman would entertain thoughts for a man intended for her sister?

She bolted from the car and reached for the laundry baskets, now full of tumbled, smelly items. But Justin beat her and held them in his arms.

“Where do you want me to put them?”

She nodded toward the coal shed she used as a laundry room. “In there would be fine.” She hesitated as he disappeared into the dark interior, then slowly followed, wondering if she didn’t step into danger as she crossed the threshold. She grabbed the pull chain, and a bare bulb lit the interior. “On the bench.”

He deposited the baskets and looked about, sneezing at the smell of coal dust. “Pretty dingy in here.”

“That’s why I move everything outdoors unless it’s too dusty. Or rainy.”

“Rain would be a welcome reason.”

“Indeed.” The shed was small, and she looked everywhere but at Justin. His closeness pressed at her senses, making her skin warm, filling her lungs with tightness, causing her eyes to sting with embarrassment and pleasure at their recent amusement.

“I enjoyed our little outing.”

The softness in his voice pulled her gaze inexorably toward him. His eyes were dark, bottomless, echoing the blackness in the corners of the room. Something about his expression caught at her, held her, joined them in a common thought.

“Especially meeting Kenny and his herd.”

A grin started in one corner of her mouth and worked its way across her face. “If it keeps the grasshoppers out of the garden, he will surely be in high demand all over the county.”

Justin chuckled. “The price of chickens will skyrocket.”

“No one will be able to afford to eat a hen.”

“Might put an end to this financial crisis.”

They both laughed heartily at their foolishness, but something happened in that shared moment, something Madge would not admit. She could not, would not feel a union of souls beyond anything she had before experienced.

She jerked away. “Thanks for your help and have a good night.”

He followed her outside and paused, as if waiting for her to turn and face him. She would not.

“Good night to you, too.” He limped toward his quarters.

She headed for the house. Just before she stepped inside, she turned. He paused at his own doorway and glanced back. Her heart jerked in response. He lifted one hand in a little wave. She did the same, struggling to keep her breathing normal, and then ducked inside and quietly closed the door.

“Did you have a good time?” Louisa sat in her lounge chair. Her voice was soft but her eyes hard.

Madge knew her sister didn’t care for Justin accompanying her. Not that she had invited him. Or welcomed him. Or so she tried to convince herself. “I delivered laundry and picked up more. Not exactly a fun occupation.”

“What did you talk about?”

She couldn’t remember anything except their shared laughter and didn’t want to tell Louisa about that. “Huh? Pardon? Who talked about what?”

“You and Justin. You must have said something. After all, you went to town and back. You spent the better part of an hour together.”

“I didn’t know you would object. Where are Mother and Sally?”

Louisa sighed. “I want to have all his attention. Is that so wrong? He’s a good teacher and might turn into a good friend. They’re in the living room unraveling an old sweater of Father’s.”

Guilt clawed at Madge’s throat. “I’m sure he’ll find you very interesting. You’ll soon be the best of friends.” He wouldn’t be interested in someone like Madge. She was only an old workhorse. Louisa was a graceful swan. “Just be careful. We know very little about him.”

Louisa looked ready to argue, then sighed. “It’s not like I expect anything but a few lessons from him.”

Madge knew Louisa wanted more. And who could blame her? Louisa missed out on a lot of fun because of her health problems, but they had shared confidences all their lives. Louisa dreamed of all the things Madge did—home, love, security. “Do you want help preparing for bed?”

“I can manage.” Louisa put Mouse down, and he rushed to the bottom of the stairs where Macat waited. Louisa pushed to her feet.

Madge wrapped her arm about Louisa’s waist and held her close. Louisa had been ill so many times. Madge would do anything to protect her. “You mustn’t overtire yourself. You’ll end up sick. Then you wouldn’t be able to study with Justin.” She injected a teasing note into her voice and pretended she didn’t feel the tiniest ache in her thoughts…her lungs…her heart.

She paused at the front-room door. “Mother, Louisa and I are headed upstairs. Good night.”

“We’ll finish this before we go up.” She spared a brief smile, then turned back to winding yarn as Sally carefully pulled out row after row.

Upstairs, Madge offered again to help, but Louisa insisted she was quite capable of getting to bed on her own. Madge smiled a little at Louisa’s faint determination, then retired to her own quarters. Thankfully Father had built the house large enough for the three girls to have their own small rooms. The big room where she hung sheets to dry had been intended as an upstairs parlor for the women when they had company. Mother’s room was downstairs off the front room. Madge savored her solitude. She could think and pray and struggle with her wayward thoughts—as she did tonight—without the others knowing.

Louisa had carefully, guardedly, expressed her interest in Justin. And rightfully so. He was perfect for her, as Mother had already seen. At least, if he turned out to be honest he would be. Madge had no right to think of him as anything but Louisa’s tutor and, perhaps in the future, Louisa’s husband. And her own brother-in-law.

That settled, Madge opened her Bible. She had established a habit of daily reading as a youngster when Father had carefully instructed all of them in the value of such a practice. All three had promised Father they would read at least a few verses every day. Mother continued to remind them of their promise and the value of keeping it. Sometimes Madge mentally excused herself as being too tired, but she’d discovered she found incredible strength and guidance in the Word and comfort in prayer.

She read the chapter where her marker indicated she had quit the night before. The passage was Micah, chapter six. She began to read, got as far as verse eight and stalled. “What doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with thy God?”

Her thoughts smote her, and she bent forward until her hair fell to the page. Macat thought she wanted to pet her and pushed under her arm, but Madge ignored her. Oh, Lord, I have forgotten to be humble. I have forgotten mercy and justice. I’ve been so caught up with fighting my attraction to Justin and in fretting over how I’ll pay the mortgage that I’ve forgotten who You are. I trust You to help me be true and faithful in everything. Both in her concerns over the needed money and her wayward, unwarranted thoughts about a man who filled her with such nagging doubts. Lord, show me, reveal to me any secrets he is hiding that might harm us.

A few minutes later she crawled into bed, her mind at rest, her heart at peace. She would trust God and keep her distance from Justin.

Over the next few days Madge did her best to live up to her decision. Justin kept busy with Louisa. The little bit she saw of them together reinforced her resolve. Louisa’s cheeks took on a healthy color. She showed more enthusiasm than she had in a long time. Several times Madge heard her laughter ring out like bells. The sound both seared and cheered her, reminding her of the laughter she’d shared with Justin and, at the same time, reaffirming how perfect he was for Louisa. She caught bits and pieces of conversation between the two as she hurried up and down the stairs. Justin was always so kind and patient with Louisa. In fact, Madge told herself, a perfect match for her. She was happy for Louisa.

If only it was anyone but Justin.

Judd watched Madge hustle up the steps and clenched his teeth. She worked far too hard, packing heavy baskets, carrying buckets of water, delivering the laundry and caring for the cow. Why, he’d even seen her with her head in the bonnet of their old car, adjusting things so it ran.

He wished he could help her, but his job was to teach Louisa, who devoured every bit of information he relayed to her. He’d had to send back home for several more books.

The evening he and Madge had spent together had been enjoyable, but she had pointedly avoided him since. He couldn’t help but wonder why. Had he offended her in some way? He intended to find out.

His opportunity came when she began to empty the washtubs. She grabbed her back and stretched as if she hurt. And well she might. The endless work was heavy. “I think I’ll help Madge carry away the wash water. She looks tired.”

“But—” Louisa ducked her head and swallowed loudly, then her gaze sought her sister and her expression softened. “Of course. To my shame I confess I often take her strength for granted. Yet if something were to happen to her we would all pay an awful price. Go and help her.”

“You have this book to study. You’re a good student. I feel a fraud trying to teach you. Really, all you need are the books and you could manage on your own.”

Bright color stained her cheeks. “How kind of you to say so.” She stroked Mouse’s back. “But it’s because you explain things so well.”

He chuckled. “So long as you’re happy.”

The color in her cheeks deepened. Was she so susceptible to a few kind words? The poor girl needed to get out more, mingle with people. Learn to fight her own battles. Like Madge.

Madge—who seemed set on making it impossible for him to spend time with her.

He hurried out and caught up the pails while her back was turned.

She spun around. Surprise filled her eyes and then, what he hoped was pleasure. The look disappeared so quickly he wondered if he imagined it simply because he wanted it.

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