Praise for Linda Ford

“A tender, sweet love story with characters who only want the best for others and themselves.”

—RT Book Reviews on Dakota Cowboy

“Ford’s sweet, charming love story has well-written characters that demonstrate strong faith, even though they stumble along the way.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Cowboy’s Baby

“The Journey Home is a splendid tale of love, hope and faith.” —RT Book Reviews

Praise for Winnie Griggs

“Griggs pens a terrific and lovely story.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Heart’s Song

“Griggs is a wonderful storyteller.”—RT Book Reviews on The Hand-Me-Down Family

“Griggs delivers the perfect blend of romance, adventure and laughter. Her characters are charming, quirky and unpredictable.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Christmas Journey

Once Upon A Thanksgiving

Season of Bounty

Linda Ford

Home for Thanksgiving

Winnie Griggs

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Season of Bounty

Linda Ford

About the Author

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 at www.lindaford.org, where you can also catch her blog, which often carries glimpses of both her writing activities and family life.

Among the things I am thankful for is my family. Each and every one of them holds a special place in my thoughts. This book is dedicated to them:

I am privileged to have every one of you in my family and in my heart. May you realize how much you are loved and how much we have to be thankful for.

O give thanks unto the Lord; for he is good:

for his mercy endureth forever.

—Psalms 136:1

Chapter One

Hopewell, Montana November 1890

Kathleen Sanderson cracked open the door. Before her stood a rough-looking man twisting a battered Stetson in his hands. His bent head revealed overgrown, untidy brown hair. Her glance took in the trail-worn, dusty, shearling-lined coat.

“Rosie, I know you told me to stay away, but I need your help.” He raised his head to reveal demanding brown eyes that widened before they bored into Kathleen. “You’re not Rosie.”

“True. She’s busy with the baby. If you’ll wait—”

“Buck.” Rosie’s voice rang with shock as she joined Kathleen in the doorway. “I thought I’d made myself clear.”

“I’ll take the baby.” Kathleen lifted nine-month-old Lilly from her mother’s arms and retreated to the far end of the room, wishing the house was larger so she could escape and let these two work out their differences without her as audience. Yet this way her curiosity might be satisfied.

“Buck,” Rosie continued, keeping her words low but not disguising her concern, “I told you I don’t want to be associated with—” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You know … Go away before you ruin everything.”

Buck lifted his head, glanced past Rosie, saw Kathleen and shuttered his feelings, but not before she’d seen stark misery. He didn’t shift his gaze away, making it impossible for her to get a satisfying breath. Then he returned his attention to Rosie and her lungs expanded with a whoosh.

“I wouldn’t be here if I knew what else to do.” A beat, two, in which Kathleen wondered if Rosie found his statement as demanding as she did.

“Rosie, I have a son and he’s ill. I can’t chase after cows or live in a bunkhouse with a sick kid. You’re my sister. My only relative. Surely you’ll help me for the sake of my son.”

Rosie gasped. “You’re married? Without even letting me know?”

“Not married. I adopted the boy. Help us?”

“I don’t know.” Rosie glanced over her shoulder toward Kathleen as if seeking some signal one way or the other from her.

Kathleen sensed how troubled Rosie was. Understood something about this man made her tremble.

She shifted Lilly to her hip and moved to Rosie’s side to indicate her support, but it wasn’t clear in her mind if she meant to encourage Rosie or her brother. “Rosie, how would you feel if it was one of your boys?” She had two—Mattie, two and a half, and Junior, four years old—who both nosed around the corner of the bedroom where they’d been playing to eye this stranger at their door.

Buck sent Kathleen a grateful glance before he appealed to Rosie. “I’d help you. You know it.” The emotion in his tone caught at Kathleen’s heart. A man who cared deeply. Her heart buckled and bowed with feelings she didn’t recognize. Had never before in her nineteen years experienced.

Buck stepped aside. “Look at him.”

A child of no more than six or seven slumped on the back of a pinto horse, wrapped up against the elements until he could barely move. Kathleen wondered for a moment if he was alive. Then he swayed, righted himself to keep from falling and lifted his face. Black eyes. A pale, thin face framed by black hair and a gray knitted hat.

“He’s an Indian.” Rosie’s tone carried a hefty dose of disbelief and shock.

“Half-breed.” The way Buck said it made Kathleen think he must have said so enough times to grow weary of making the explanation.

“You adopted him?”

Buck nodded. “I’ll tell you the whole story if you let us in. He needs to be warm and dry.”

Rosie rocked her head back and forth and gave careful consideration to the faces of each of her children.

“Rosie,” Kathleen urged, knowing this was none of her business, yet not able to turn her back on a man and child needing help. More than that, who needed a welcome.

Not everyone would understand her concern. She knew that well enough. If her parents saw this pair on the street they would turn their backs and pretend they didn’t exist. They’d rush Kathleen by and try to shield her from seeing them. Her parents had objected strenuously when Kathleen mentioned she would like to befriend Rosie.

“She’s not our sort,” Father said.

“The children are always grubby,” Mother added, shuddering and pressing her lace-trimmed, monogrammed hankie to her nose as if the mere mention of them offended her senses.

“She’s alone,” Kathleen pointed out, not adding that Kathleen felt almost as alone much of the time. “Her husband is working in a logging camp and she has three little ones.” At least Rosie had her babies. Kathleen had no one but Mother and Father. Not for the first time, she wondered why her friends never seemed to last. Was there something about her that made her forgettable? Or worse? Maybe she somehow, unknowingly, repelled people. “I think she appreciates me visiting.” She helped as much as she could without offending Rosie.

Father studied her for a moment. “How did you meet her?”

She’d told them before but they hadn’t listened. “She was leaving the store with an armload of groceries, trying to hold the baby and keep track of little Mattie, who was set on exploring the display of shovels. She dropped a letter in the confusion and I picked it up and offered to help her get home.”

“She lives across town, doesn’t she?”

“Yes.” He knew that, too, of course. He only wanted to make sure Kathleen realized how inappropriate he considered her association with someone from the poor side of town. “She’s new in Hopewell and doesn’t know anyone. Everyone needs friends.” Neither parent relented, but she knew exactly what to say to get their permission to visit again. “Aren’t we, as Christians, commanded to welcome strangers?”

Her father’s silence meant reluctant acquiescence.

She had been back several times and thought Rosie welcomed her. On her part, Kathleen enjoyed someone her age to visit with.

As she thought how they were slowly becoming friends, Rosie stood at the door, patting her fingertips together in a rapid dance. “I don’t want any trouble.” She flung about to stare into the center of the room. “Once people learn who Buck is and see his kid …” She didn’t say what she expected would happen.

“Who is he?” Who was this man who took in a half-breed child and begged an unwelcome invitation to care for him? It made her long to enter his thoughts and explore them.

She hadn’t even finished the question when he said, “I don’t intend anyone should find out I’m here. I won’t stay any longer than I need to. Only long enough for Joey to get his strength.”

“Joey? That his name?”

Buck nodded and smiled, changing his worry into affection, and if Kathleen wasn’t mistaken, a whole lot more.

She jerked her thoughts back to the present. Why did she think he seemed a loyal, committed sort of man? She didn’t know anything at all about him except he faced Rosie on behalf of his sick son. But he’d informed Rosie he didn’t intend to stay. Why not? She wanted to demand an answer. But it was none of her business. Just because she wanted someone … anyone … to stay in her life long-term was no reason to pin her longings on Rosie’s transient brother. Poor unsuspecting man. She touched Rosie’s elbow in appeal. “He needs a friend. What better friend than a sister?”

Rosie took Lilly and stepped back in silent permission.

Buck trotted to the pinto, spoke softly to the boy and lifted his arms. The child slid into them so smoothly that Kathleen caught her breath, as if feeling the weight of the youngster land against her own heart.

Kathleen opened the door wide and ushered Buck into the house. She shoved a chair closer to the stove for him to sit on.

“Thank you.” Buck sounded weary and wary. No doubt he wondered who she was and what role she played. Then he gave his complete attention to Joey, slipping the heavy winter wear from him.

The boy shivered, though Kathleen knew by the bright red spots on each cheek he was fevered. His breathing whistled in and out.

“I don’t want my children sick,” Rosie murmured, and backed away from the door until she reached her sons.

Buck sighed. “I’m sorry.” He looked into Kathleen’s eyes. “But what could I do? What would you do in the same circumstance?”

“I’d go home.”

His eyes crinkled in a mixture of humor and regret. “This is the closest place to home I have.”

Kathleen felt herself being drawn into something in his look. Couldn’t say for certain what it was—only that it filled her with sadness that a man should not know a welcome any better than what Rosie offered. “If there’s anything I can do to help …”

His smile widened and dipped into her heart. Startled at her reaction, she dropped to her knees to look more closely at his son. “Joey, I’m pleased to meet you.”

Joey’s unblinking gaze revealed nothing.

“My name is Kathleen Sanderson. I’m a friend of your aunt’s. That’s her over there, Aunt Rosie. Those are your cousins.” She named them.

“Hello.” Junior stepped forward, but his mother caught his shoulder and pulled him back.

Kathleen spared Rosie a moment’s consideration. Shouldn’t she be more charitable toward her brother and this child? If Kathleen had a brother or sister, she would do anything she could to help them. But it seemed Rosie was unaware of the blessing of a sibling.

“Never mind. They’ll soon be your friends.”

Joey turned his face up to ask Buck a silent question. In the moment of wordless interchange between the pair she sensed a connection, an affection needing no words, yet so evident it brought a sting to her eyes.

Buck cupped the boy’s head and pressed it to his chest. “We’ll be okay, little buddy.”

Joey let out a sigh ending on a gasp as he fought for air.

“How long has he been ill?” Kathleen asked.

“Longer than I care to admit.” Buck sat the boy up and brushed the long black hair off his face. “I haven’t been fair to him, dragging him along with me. I guess I figured it was the sort of life he was born to.” He shook his head. “He deserves more.”

“Children get sick. It happens.” She longed to reassure him. She ached to give him the welcome Rosie refused. “Now that he’s here, he’ll start to mend.” She touched his cheeks. Hot. Dry. Parchment-paper fragile. Her knuckles brushed Buck’s and she jerked back. Pushed to her feet. Turned to Rosie. “He’s burning up.”

“Sponge him. A good washing wouldn’t likely go amiss.”

“Rosie, you surprise me.” Buck spoke in a flat tone.

Kathleen silently echoed his words as she prepared a basin of water.

“Take his shirt off,” Rosie instructed.

Kathleen waited as Buck did so, then knelt at his side and lifted a wet cloth. Joey shrank back, his eyes widening.

“I’ll do it.” Buck reached for the cloth. Again their fingers brushed. She stilled herself not to react. He paused. Slowly she lifted her head to meet his steady consideration, sat back on her heels as his look went on and on, peeling away protective layers she didn’t even realize existed—layers established by her upbringing, of being sheltered to the point she often felt she was a lonely spectator of the world. Her parents had long taught her that their station in life demanded certain requirements of her. Namely, to associate only with appropriate people and marry within their circle, meaning to marry well. Yet nowhere in the approved acquaintances had she seen a man so devoted to a child not his own, from an often despised race. Nor had she ever felt a reaction that made her heart beat so erratically.

She drew back to one of the mismatched chairs around the table and watched Buck sponge Joey, murmuring softly as he worked, sometimes in foreign sounding words. All the while, Joey watched him with utmost faith.

Kathleen knew for a fact a man who could earn such trust from a child was a man worthy of the same kind of trust from others. Yet there was something about him that put Rosie on edge. What could it possibly be?

Buck wondered about the young woman watching him. She didn’t seem the kind who normally hung out with Rosie, nor visited in a shack barely big enough for a family. He looked about the room. A battered wooden table. Mismatched chairs. A stove and one cupboard in the kitchen area. Beyond, a rocking chair and a small bookshelf containing two books and a basket of mending. One door next to the bookshelf where Rosie hovered, her eyes guarded. His visit would seriously crowd the place, though the floor provided more than enough room for the pair of them. In his twenty-two years he’d slept in far worse places.

Kathleen Sanderson. She’d said her name with pride and confidence of one familiar with respect. No doubt she would be shocked to learn his identity.

Nor did he intend she should. Marriage had provided Rosie with an escape and he didn’t plan to ruin things for her.

Being a cowboy, moving from job to job, had given him his only escape.

Kathleen leaned forward. “He’s certainly fond of you.”

Buck chuckled. “He’s smart enough to know where his next meal comes from.”

She blinked as if startled by his frank words. Then laughed. “You’re teasing, but I’d say it was more than that.”

He looked at Joey who watched him with those dark, unblinking eyes of his. “We’ve formed a sort of mutual admiration society, haven’t we, buddy?”

Joey nodded, his expression still solemn.

Buck cupped his son’s head and brushed his thumb along the boy’s cheeks. When had they shrunk so badly? “I’m sorry, little guy. I should have realized sooner just how sick you are.”

“He needs some nourishing broth.” Rosie sighed. “Guess I’ll have to get some.” She handed the baby to Junior. “You kids stay here and play.” Then she marched toward the stove and pulled a pot forward. “Good thing for you soup is about all we eat around here.”

Buck chuckled. “I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me for long.” He turned to Kathleen to explain. “She likes me a lot more than she lets on.”

“She hides it awfully well.” Her smile lit up her face, sent dancing lights into her blue eyes, riveting him motionless.

He studied her. Blond hair carefully pulled back in a wave ending in a roll at her neck. An oval face that belonged on a cameo, pretty pink lips. Everything about her said rich, refined.

What was she doing here?

Her cheeks blossomed rose color, and he realized he’d been staring and tore his attention away.

Rosie pulled a bowl from the cupboard and ladled in broth and bits of carrots. She set the bowl on the table. “Eat.”

Joey pressed into Buck’s chest. Buck understood his caution, fear even. He had plenty of reason for it. “Say ‘thank you, Aunt Rosie.’”

Joey shivered. But he must learn his manners, so Buck nudged him.

“Thank you, Auntie.” The boy’s normally soft voice crackled from the effects of his illness.

Rosie sat across the table. “You’re welcome.”

Buck pulled up to the table close to Kathleen. He knew Joey wouldn’t be comfortable sitting on a chair by himself, so he held him and encouraged him to eat.

“This is lots better than what I’ve been feeding you, isn’t it, buddy?”

“I like rabbit.” Joey’s firm tones informed everyone where his loyalty lay, and Buck chuckled.

“You’d say that if all we ate was gopher.”

“I like gopher, too.”

Buck laughed and scrubbed his knuckles across the boy’s head. “You ever tasted one?”

“Not yet.”

Kathleen’s soft laughter filled Buck’s senses. My, he did like a woman with a gentle laugh. “He’s determined to be loyal to you no matter what.”

Buck allowed himself a glance of acknowledgment and was immediately warmed by the admiration in her eyes. “He doesn’t know any better.”

“Yes, I do.”

Kathleen and Buck both laughed, sharing something more than enjoyment of Joey’s conviction. Something he couldn’t name, but it felt like a gift from God.

Strange. He hadn’t thought of God, or His gifts or anything of the sort for a long time.

Rosie leaned forward on her elbows. “So how did you and Joey find each other?”

“Bless you, Rosie.”

“For what?”

“For saying it like that.”

She shrugged. “I have never been able to stay annoyed with you.” She shifted her attention to Kathleen. “Does that make me weak?”

“No, Rosie,” Kathleen said gently. “It makes you a good sister.”

“She is that. We learned to stick together a long time ago, didn’t we, sister?”

“Then we found out we were better off not being together.” Her words contained more than a hint of warning. “Now tell us about Joey. Unless you’d rather wait.”

He understood her unspoken acknowledgment that he might prefer not to speak of it in Joey’s hearing. Or before her own children who hovered at the doorway, hearing and seeing everything. “He knows every detail already.”

“I was there,” Joey pointed out as if they might have forgotten.

Buck wished the little guy could have missed certain portions of the experience, but at least God had protected him. Again, he thought of God. Not once until now had he stopped to consider God protected Joey throughout an ordeal that might have ended much differently. Why was he suddenly realizing it?

He shifted so he could consider Kathleen out of the corner of his eyes. Something about her nudged him toward nobler, kinder thoughts than he’d enjoyed in a very long time.

What would she think after she heard Joey’s story?

Would she be repulsed? Warmed? He could only hope it would give both her and Rosie a kindly disposition toward his son.

Chapter Two

Kathleen leaned close, not wanting to miss a word of Buck’s explanation. Something about the fondness between Buck and Joey made her wonder if a heart could weep with emotion.

Buck settled back in his chair, a distant look in his eyes, as if he lived the past again. “It was a year ago this past spring and I was heading west. Heard a rancher out there needed a few more hands. Figured it was as good a place as any to find work. I rode up a little ridge and stopped to look around. Remember thinking the mountains made a mighty purty sight, glistening with their winter snowcaps under the bright sunshine. Then I brought my gaze closer to hand and saw what appeared to be the remains of a wagon accident. Rode on down to investigate.” He paused and swallowed hard.

Kathleen guessed what he’d found had been unpleasant.

“A man and his wife had been killed.”

“Bad man shoot Mama and Papa,” Joey said, his voice betraying a thread of sorrow.

“The woman was Indian, the man appeared to be a white miner. I gave them a decent burial and marked the place with fragments of their wagon. There were no papers, no identification. Everything had been picked through and scattered.”

“Man look for Papa’s money. Find it. Steal it.” As Joey listed the deeds he kept his attention on his bowl of soup, though he no longer lifted the spoon to his mouth.

Buck squeezed the back of Joey’s neck and the boy relaxed visibly. “I knew from the things left that a child had been with them. I hated the thought the murderers had taken him. It was late in the day so I made camp, intending to resume my journey in the morning. During the night I heard something or someone, but the intruder was gone as fast as he came.”

“I was hungry,” Joey explained.

Buck chuckled. “When I got up I knew no critter had been in my camp. Only things missing were biscuits and beans. So I hunkered down over my breakfast and studied the tracks. Knew it was a child. Guessed it was the one who’d been on the wagon.”

“I hide from bad man. Hide from Buck, too. I not know he not be a bad man.”

“Took me a few days to prove it. Then I headed to the nearest town. No one knew the dead family. No one knew Joey. He didn’t know of any family but his ma and pa. The sheriff made inquiries. But nothing. I asked the preacher what I should do and he said, why not adopt him? So I did.”

The way he grinned gave Kathleen an emptiness, as if her life lacked something. She tried valiantly to dismiss the feeling. After all, what could her life be lacking? Her parents provided her with everything she needed. She had been at finishing school getting a privileged education until her mother’s illness required she return home to help care for her. As soon as her mother felt better, she’d return to the Eastern college. She hadn’t been there long enough to make friends, but when she got back she would. God willing, she’d find a friend who would remain loyal throughout their years at college.

Above and beyond that, she had a living relationship with God. Had never doubted His love and care. Still, had she ever done anything half as noble as Buck had? Had she ever loved anyone like Buck loved Joey? Had she ever been loved like that? Yes, her parents loved her, she had no doubt, but it seemed their love carried heavy expectations.

Buck watched her. His eyes revealed understanding. Warmth.

As if he read her thoughts.

She ducked her head, amazed at how foolish she proved to be. Until this moment she considered herself a commonsense person who didn’t think or act rashly.

“Buck my papa.” Joey sounded so proud, Kathleen’s throat tightened.

She dare not look at Buck again, afraid of the way her emotions clogged her heart. Instead, she glanced at Rosie. When she saw the same glisten of tears in her eyes she felt in her own, she sniffed.

“Yes, I am. And you’re my son. Forever and always.”

Kathleen couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think beyond the stuffiness in her nose. Never before had she known such open affection between a man and his son … his adopted son, though she guessed he wouldn’t acknowledge any distinction. He seemed such a decent man.

Rosie blew her nose on a hankie. “You’re a good man, Buck, but it doesn’t change anything.”

Kathleen couldn’t imagine why Rosie was so fearful.

“I’m well aware of it. I’m only here until Joey is better.”

At that moment, Joey’s head nodded. Buck caught him before he planted his face in the bowl of soup. He lifted the boy, tossed his coat on the floor in the corner and was about to put Joey there.

Kathleen gave Rosie a hard look. “Are you going to let him sleep on the floor? The boy is sick. Besides—” she lowered her voice “—don’t you think he’s been through enough?”

Rosie lifted her hands in a sign of defeat. “I give up. Buck, use the room past the stove. It’s our bedroom, but I can’t bring myself to sleep there with Bill gone.”

Buck jerked to full attention. “He’s gone? How long ago?” He shifted his gaze to the children who played in the doorway.

“He left a few weeks ago to work in a logging camp. We came here expecting a job but it fell through. We can’t live in the camp so Bill left us here.” She glanced about. “This is a nice, solid little house.”

Buck let out a noisy gust. “I thought you meant he was gone … gone for good, as in … well, you know.”

Rosie grinned widely. “If you could see the look on your face …” She tipped her head back and looked pleased with herself. “I have to admit I enjoyed that. Sort of evens us up for you showing up at my door.”

Kathleen couldn’t read the look the two exchanged. Sharing a secret. She felt she intruded into their lives without invitation. She envied them their obvious affection. She wondered if they realized how blessed they were to have each other and their children.

“Consider us even, then. I’m happy to let you do so.” Buck shouldered his way into the room. A cold draft blasted through the kitchen.

Junior waited until Buck was out of sight. “Mama, do we have to stay here forever?”

Rosie crossed the room and took Lilly. “Come on over. It will soon be time for supper.”

Kathleen glanced out the window. Long shadows slanted across the skiff of snow. She jumped to her feet. “I’ve stayed far too long. Mother will be worrying.” Her coat hung near the stove and she shrugged into it, pulled on her fur hat and mittens.

Buck stood in the bedroom doorway, watching.

She felt his measured consideration. Determined to ignore him, she turned to Rosie instead. “I could come back tomorrow.” Perhaps Rosie wouldn’t welcome her company as eagerly now that her brother was there. “If you want.”

Rosie’s lips flattened. “Nobody’s forcing you to come.”

Kathleen refused to be offended by the woman’s remarks. In the few weeks she’d been visiting, she’d learned Rosie didn’t expect any offers of friendship. But Kathleen didn’t intend to be a fair-weather friend. She patted Rosie’s shoulder. “I only asked because I thought you might enjoy spending time alone with your brother.” For some insane reason her cheeks warmed. She could well imagine such pleasure.

Rosie nodded. “I’m sorry for being prickly. It’s just …” She darted a look toward Buck. The pair sent wordless messages to each other, then Rosie shrugged. “I’d be pleased if you’d come again.”

Kathleen understood Rosie’s caution. She, too, had learned to wonder if a friend would visit again. “I’ll be back. After all, we have that quilt to work on.” She’d noticed a shortage of warm bedding and offered to help Rosie sew a quilt. Rosie had scraps of material and Kathleen intended to supply a woolen batt.

Only when she reached the outer door did she allow herself to look directly at Buck. “It was nice meeting you, Mr.—” She realized he’d never given his surname.

He grinned. “Buck is name enough for me.”

“Nice meeting you, Buck.” She knew she blushed to speak so familiarly. Her parents would be shocked.

“My pleasure, Miss Sanderson.”

The way he said it made her cheeks grow even warmer.

She scurried out and rushed toward home. When had she ever had such a reaction to any man? Never. But then she’d never before met such a cowboy, never seen such a kind smile. Her feet slowed. What was she thinking?

Nothing. Nothing at all, except it would be nice for Rosie to have a man around to take care of filling the wood box and fetching water.

It would be equally as nice for Buck to have a place to care for his son.

Her parents both sat in the drawing room and glanced up as Kathleen hurried in, rubbing her hands together to ease the chill.

“You’re very late,” Mother said. “I was beginning to worry.”

Father lowered the papers he’d been reading and studied Kathleen. “I’m still not comfortable with you going to that woman’s shack. It’s in a rough area of town. You aren’t safe.”

Kathleen held back annoyance at their continued resistance to her being friends with Rosie. “There is no danger.” For some reason, Buck’s image flitted through her mind. There was something about him his sister considered threatening, but she couldn’t imagine it was the kind of danger her father meant. “Rosie and her children are very nice people. You would like them if you ever got to know them.”

Mother fluttered her hand. “That’s not likely to ever happen, is it? We simply don’t belong in the same circles.”

Kathleen had invited Rosie to attend church with her. Assured her she would be welcome. “I would think rich and poor are both welcome in the church.”

“Why, of course they are.” But Rosie heard her unspoken qualifier—just don’t expect us to sit in the same pew.

Having no desire to argue with them or upset them, Kathleen let the topic end. She sank to an ottoman at her mother’s knees and took her hands. “How have you been this afternoon?”

“I’ve managed to sit up and read a bit.” Mother’s voice quavered. “I’m sure I’m getting stronger.”

Father set aside his papers. “Kathleen, I should think you could see your mother needs your care. I don’t like you neglecting her when she’s not well.”

Stung by his criticism, Kathleen remained on the stool beside her mother. “Mother sleeps much of the afternoon. I only intend to be gone during that time.”

He glanced at the big grandfather clock ticking out the seconds in demanding rhythm.

“Today was different. Rosie’s brother and his little boy showed up, and the time simply slipped away on me.”

Father leaned forward in his chair. “A brother? Good. He can take care of his sister and you can find a more suitable pastime.” He sat back, satisfied life would fit into his sense of right and order.

“Father, I promised her I would help her sew a quilt. I told her I would return tomorrow. I hope you won’t say I can’t go.” She couldn’t imagine returning to the boredom of sitting quietly in an armchair reading as her mother slept.

Father tapped his knee and considered her. “You used to be such an obedient child. I should never have sent you East to that college. They’ve filled your head with all sorts of radical ideas. I’m glad you’ve had cause to return home. Given time, I expect you will come to your senses.” He flipped the paper in front of his face, signaling he’d spoken his last word on the subject.

Kathleen eased a sigh of relief over her teeth. At least he hadn’t forbidden her to return, which left her free to do so. In the future, she would simply return before the afternoon was spent.

She schooled herself not to smile with anticipation of a visit the next day. Nor would she admit, even to herself, that it was the thought of seeing Buck again that brought the smile to her lips.

She only wanted to assess if the affection she’d witnessed was as evident as she remembered. And check if Joey was feeling better.

Buck sponged Joey several more times and fed him more broth throughout the evening. For now he seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

Rosie glanced in on them. “Likely all he needs is a warm bed and decent food.”

“I hope you’re right.” If anything happened to the boy—”I’ve grown to love him more than I imagined possible.”

“It’s pretty obvious.” She remained in the doorway. “Care to join me for tea?”

He draped an arm across her shoulders. “Just like old times?”

She patted his hand. “Buck, I’d just as soon forget about old times, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” They sat across from each other, nursing warm cups of steaming tea. “So who is this Kathleen Sanderson and why is she visiting you?”

Rosie bristled. “What? I’m not fit for the likes of her to cross my threshold?”

He chuckled. “Is that what you think?”

“Sometimes.”

“Guess we’ve both got reason to consider others think that very thing. So who is she and why is she here?”

“Kathleen’s father is the richest man in town.”

A punch of alarm raced up Buck’s spine. Rich men with beautiful daughters were the worst sort. They didn’t want the likes of Buck to even be in the same town. “If her father learns who I am …”

“And who I am.” Her gaze bored into his—angry at his visit to her home. “You should never have come here. You promised you wouldn’t.”

“It’s only for Joey and then I’ll be gone.” He glanced about the house. There were days he wished he didn’t have to keep on the move. But wishing didn’t change the facts. “I’ll do my best to keep our secret from Kathleen. I can think of no reason she’d suspect who I am. Why should anyone be suspicious of your brother visiting? Your married name gives no clue as to who we are.” He didn’t want to think about his past. “Tell me how you met her.”

“The Sandersons live in a big house. Even have a cook and housekeeper. Can you imagine paying someone to clean your house? ‘Course, it’s a mighty big house and dust probably isn’t allowed to settle for even a minute. Someday I’m going to ask Kathleen how many rooms there are.”

Buck sighed. Seemed he was going to get a detailed description of the house before she explained about Kathleen.

She must have guessed at his impatience. “Won’t likely ever see inside the place, now will I?” She shrugged. “Not that it matters. I’m happy enough here, and Kathleen doesn’t seem to mind how small and mean my house is.” She told about Kathleen helping her home one afternoon as she struggled to corral young Mattie. “Since then she visits me, plays with the kids. Even helps with the dishes if they aren’t done when she gets here. Now she says she wants to help me make a quilt for the children.” She rocked her head back and forth. “I just don’t understand why.”

“Have you asked her?”

“I did. All she said was she couldn’t bear the thought of me living on the edge of town with no friends. Though from what she says, I think she’s as lonely as I am. She’d like me to go to church with her but I can’t. If I let myself care about people and what they think, it only hurts the more when they discover the truth.” Her eyes hardened. “Someone is likely to, now that you’re here. Once they realize our father was—” She clamped her lips together as tears swelled in her eyes.

He filled in the blank she’d left. “A murderer.” Saying the word forced him back to reality. “Don’t worry. I won’t be around long enough for anyone to take notice.” Though he wished things could be different. Wished he could offer Joey a real home. Wished he could belong somewhere. With someone. A forbidden dream flashed through his thoughts of home and a woman. He’d had the thought before, and always the woman was faceless. Just a presence. But this time she had a face and voice … those of Kathleen Sanderson. “I will leave as soon as Joey is rested. Before people find out and drive us out of town.” He knew his voice had grown hard. Rosie would understand why. They shared a secret with the power to destroy their lives. He understood why Rosie would be cautious about making friends. A person needed to be able to leave when the time came with no regrets, no glancing back over one’s shoulder.

Yet he rose the next morning wondering if Kathleen would return as she had promised Rosie.

Rosie noticed how many times he glanced out the window and laughed. “She won’t be along for a bit. She never comes until after lunch when her mother is napping.”

“I wasn’t looking for her.”

“Sure you were.”

“Only because I wondered if she would come as she promised.”

Rosie grew serious. “I always wonder the same thing, but every time she’s said she’d come, she has.”

Joey sat at the table spooning in thin porridge. “Buck, who you waiting for?”

He turned away from the window. “Nobody. Just checking the weather.”

Rosie snorted. “She’s not your sort.”

“No one is.” They both knew what he meant, and he sat at the table to consider his two nephews. Sturdy-looking boys. Made Joey look as thin as he was. “Your boys appear well fed.”

“Bill left us with adequate supplies. He’ll send money from time to time. We won’t go hungry.”

“Didn’t think we were, either.”

“I not hungry.” Joey put his spoon down as if to prove he only ate because the food was before him.

Buck smiled. He appreciated Joey’s devotion, but not to the extent of him choosing to go hungry. “Finish it up.”

Joey hesitated only a moment before returning his attention to the food.

Rosie stood beside Buck. “He seems a little better today.”

“I hope so.”

But an hour later, after playing with Mattie and Junior, Joey curled up on the floor, exhausted. Buck carried him to bed and sat at his side, watching him. Surely he would regain his strength in a day or two and they could move on. But to where? And what did it matter? One place was the same as the next.

Joey slept through a lunch of soup and freshly baked bread. He was still asleep when a gentle knock sounded.

Buck sat at the table pretending a great interest in the pencil Junior had given him to sharpen, but every sense tingled with awareness as Kathleen stepped into the house, laughing about the wind tugging at her fine woolen coat. She shrugged out of it and hung it on a nail. “Hello, everyone.” She smiled at Rosie who held Lilly, leaned over and kissed the baby’s cheek, squatted to kiss Mattie’s forehead, hugged Junior and then finally lifted her attention to Buck. “Hello to you, too.”

“You’re a breath of sunshine.” He hadn’t meant to sound so adoring. He only meant she made everyone smile with her greeting.

Her cheeks flushed a very becoming pink, reminding him of summer sunrises. “I’m just passing on my own feelings of happiness.”

Rosie waggled her hand toward Buck. “He meant it as a compliment.” She gave Buck a scolding look. “We’re all glad to have you visit.” Silently she warned Buck not to ruin things for her. As if his very presence wasn’t enough to do that.

“I’m relieved to hear it.” Kathleen glanced about. “Where’s Joey?”

“Still sleeping.” Worry grabbed his gut. “He’s been sleeping a long time.” He rushed into the bedroom, pressed his hand to the boy’s forehead, but even without feeling his hot skin he knew the boy was again fevered. “I hoped he was getting better.”

Rosie brought in a basin of water, and both women hovered at the bedside while Buck stripped the boy to the waist and sponged him.

“I don’t think this is a good sign,” Rosie murmured. “Fevers that return every day generally mean something like lung fever.”

“No.” Buck wouldn’t allow it. “He’s just run down. He’ll be fine.”

“Let’s pray for God to strengthen his little body.” Kathleen reached for Rosie’s hand.

Buck understood Rosie’s hesitation. Hadn’t their ma prayed for God to intervene? It hadn’t happened. Instead she’d died, and he and Rosie had been on their own. But for Joey, his son, he’d storm the gates of heaven if he must. He reached for Kathleen’s hand, saw her start with surprise and likely shock, and he pulled back. But she reached out and clasped his hand on one side and Rosie’s on the other. From her flowed confidence and faith that poured into his heart. God could heal his boy. He knew it. He believed it. He bowed his head.

“Dear Heavenly Father.” Kathleen’s voice rang with love and joy. “You love us so much. You are the great healer. Touch Joey. Stop the fever. Show us what part we need to play, that Your name might be glorified. Amen.”

He pulled his hand to his knee, kept his head tilted down. He’d never heard such a simple prayer, and yet he felt he had stepped into the throne room of God.

He picked up the wet cloth and continued to sponge Joey. But no longer did his spirit fret.

The fever slowly abated as it had done before. He almost dared believe this might be the last time.

Joey opened his eyes and smiled. “Hi, Buck.”

“Hi, buddy. How you feeling?”

“Maybe a little hungry.”

Buck’s laugher was joined by Rosie’s and Kathleen’s. “Surely he’s on the mend.” He turned and gripped Kathleen’s shoulder. “Thanks to you.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Thanks to God.” Her look of assurance filled him with a sense of wonder. God actually might care about him. Amazing. Or was it only Joey God cared about?

It was a question he didn’t care to answer at the moment.

Chapter Three

Kathleen couldn’t believe her boldness at taking Buck’s hand to pray. Praying came naturally enough to her. But what made her think it required holding a hand as solid and firm as the ground beneath her feet? Her palm still felt warmer than normal.

But she had no doubt God intervened for Joey’s improvement and would continue to do so. She silently prayed it would accomplish much more … that Rosie and Buck would find healing for whatever made them so fearful and kept them away from each other.

Joey ate a bowl of soup, played with the toys for a few minutes, then crawled into Buck’s lap and closed his eyes.

Kathleen watched the play of emotions on Buck’s face—worry, love, hope. He lifted his eyes to hers and allowed her to see the depth of his feelings. They caught at her heart. Then he ducked his head, pressing his cheek to Joey’s black hair.

Emotion clogged Kathleen’s throat. This kind of love awed her. Filled her heart with yearning.

She drew in a shaking breath, wondering at the lightness of the air she sucked in, which did little to relieve her need for oxygen.

Lilly slept in Rosie’s arms. Young Mattie whined.

“I need to put the little ones down for their nap.” Rosie pushed to her feet. “Come along, Junior. Time for you to have a sleep.”

“Mama, I want to play with Joey.”

Buck looked at his son. “I don’t think Joey feels much like playing at the moment. When you wake up he’ll likely be ready.”

Rosie took the children to the bedroom to settle them.

Kathleen expected Buck to do the same with Joey, but he stayed seated. She forced herself to remain still, though she longed to jump to her feet and pace the room. A crack in the wooden table caught her attention and she ran a fingernail along it.

“Is he asleep?” Buck whispered.

She looked. “I would say so.”

“Then I’ll put him down now.” He shifted the boy and carried him to the bed, covered him carefully, smoothed his hair from his forehead … all ordinary things, yet watching him made her heart ache.

He stepped back, watched his son a moment, then tiptoed from the room and pulled the door part way shut. “I didn’t want to put him down until he fell asleep. Seems like the least I can give him is lots of assurance of safety.” He returned to the chair he occupied previously and rubbed his hand across his face. “I fear I am an inadequate parent, but I’m all the poor little guy has.”

Such hope and desperation filled his voice, she couldn’t bear it. “From what I’ve seen, you are an excellent father. The way he adores you is proof enough.”

Brown eyes met hers, brimming with hunger and longing. “Do you think so?”

He loved the boy deeply and wasn’t afraid to show it. The knowledge of such love—human love—gave her the feeling she missed something vital in her life. She feared it would show in her eyes but lacked the strength to tear her gaze away. “I know so.”

A slow, intense smile filled his face. “I perceive you are a most generous person in every way.”

It was her turn to be surprised. “How nice of you to say so.” But how could he know? He’d only just met her.

His chuckle tingled along her nerves like music rushing up her veins. “You’re thinking I couldn’t possibly know, seeing as we’ve only met. But yet, I think I am correct.” He leaned closer drawing her into an intimate invisible circle including only the two of them, excluding everyone and everything else. “I know you’ve gone out of your way to make friends with Rosie, and I’m certain it’s more than what most women in your group of friends consider ordinary.”

She tried to pull her thoughts into order, but all she could think was he admired her for doing something that had indeed brought criticism from others, even beyond her parents.

“You know, I haven’t given God much consideration or due in a long time. Since … well, never mind that. But from the moment I stepped through that door—” He tipped his head in the general direction. “I’ve thought of Him several times. I think it is due to you.”

“How can that be?”

“You bring God’s presence into the house.”

“I—” She didn’t know how to answer. “If so, then I am happy to hear it.”

His soft smile thanked her. “If only more people were like you.” He sat back. “Maybe you can help me.”

“I will if I can.” Perhaps he would ask her to assist him and Rosie in sorting out their differences.

“I’d like to know if Rosie needs anything. Is she managing okay on her own?”

Not the direction she’d hoped he’d go, but to know he cared so about others filled her with sweet admiration. “She has her hands full, especially when she goes shopping.” She told about her first meeting with Rosie and how his poor sister couldn’t keep a hand on everything. “Mattie saw the bucketful of shiny shovels, and I suppose he thought they would make good toys. What a clatter when the bucket tipped and they all fell to the ground. The storekeeper came rushing out to see what the racket was. I think everyone stopped what they were doing to look.” She laughed. “Poor Rosie didn’t think it very amusing, I’m afraid.”

She thought of what Rosie really needed—to become more a part of the community instead of keeping so much to herself. But before she could voice her thought, Rosie tiptoed from the bedroom.

“Were you two talking about me?” she asked.

Buck sighed. “You were the furthest thing from my mind.”

Rosie considered them suspiciously. “I heard you talking while I got the children to sleep, yet the minute I step into the room you are quiet as mice.”

Buck grinned. “If you insist on knowing, I was telling her all the family secrets.”

Rosie drew up hard and stared at her brother. Then she laughed, a nervous twitter of a sound. “I know you’re joshing. Serves me right for being so suspicious.” She turned to Kathleen. “Were you serious about helping me stitch a quilt top?”

At last, something to do with her hands so her thoughts wouldn’t continually run off in silly directions. “Of course. Are you ready to get started?”

Rosie fetched a basket of fabric pieces. “I thought to make one for Junior’s bed, but I don’t intend to take advantage of your generosity or anything.”

Kathleen rubbed her hands together. “We can do this. Do you have a pattern in mind?”

The women pulled out fabric and discussed different arrangements. Once they’d chosen a pattern, they cut out a number of squares, then Kathleen started stitching them together while Rosie continued cutting.

“Where did you spend Thanksgiving last year?” Kathleen asked him.

Guess it was too much for Buck to think their project would keep them occupied and allow him the privilege of watching the subtle changes in Kathleen’s expression as she chose colors and patterns and aligned the pieces. But he realized he didn’t mind talking about the past year. In most ways it was one of the best in his life, with Joey to look after and love. “The two of us spent it in a settler’s shack. The pioneer family had moved to town for the winter, and they were glad enough to have someone occupy their place.” No doubt such simple accommodations were something she would not rejoice over, but he’d been grateful.

Kathleen and Rosie continued to work, but he felt their keen interest. “I really never gave Thanksgiving a thought until the owner of the place rode out with a bundle. Said his wife insisted he bring it to the two of us. I let Joey open it. You should have seen his eyes. I don’t think he could remember receiving gifts before. Inside was enough turkey for the both of us and plenty of mashed potatoes and gravy. There were two oranges and a toy whistle. We had us a real good day. Just the two of us.” He wasn’t sure why he kept saying it was only he and Joey, except he wanted to believe it was how he wanted things to be. Even to his own ears it sounded lonely. But he really did have something to be thankful for—a little son and a warm house, even though the latter was temporary.

Thanksgiving was three weeks away. He should be gone again by then, but only if he remained would Joey know a true family celebration. The temptation to stay was strong.

“It sounds sweet,” Kathleen said, although her voice seemed tight, as if the words didn’t want release.

“It sounds lonely.” Rosie, as always, was bluntly honest. They studied each other. He wished he could stay awhile. Perhaps she did, too, but they both knew the risks. People were less than welcoming when they discovered whom their father was. He and Rosie had been driven from more than one place by a violent crowd.

He and Joey must move on.

Kathleen’s gaze had not left him all the while he and Rosie shared their silent communication, and now he shifted and met her blue, intense look.

She smiled. “The church is having a special Thanksgiving service. There will be a community dinner to share the bounty of the year. It would be nice if you would attend. I think you’d enjoy it.”

Her words fell into a silence, sending ripples through his thoughts. He hadn’t been to church since Ma died. He wondered if Rosie had. He’d attended her wedding, held in the parsonage. It was the last time he’d seen her before yesterday, though he sent her an occasional letter. She wrote to him regularly so he knew she and Bill had moved to this town. Bill knew enough to keep one step ahead of the cruel truth of his wife’s past. “I doubt I’ll be here.” Regret deepened his voice but he hoped no one would notice. “Rosie, you should go. It would be good for you and the kids.”

Rosie allowed him the briefest glance, but enough for him to see her longing ran every bit as deep as his. “I’ll think on it.”

“I’ll keep asking,” Kathleen said.

Buck wondered how she managed to sound so serene, so confident. Not for the first time, and likely not for the last, he wished things could be different so he could get to know her better and discover who she really was.

It wasn’t possible. He shifted his thoughts to other things. Like the children. Rosie’s were happy and full of spirit. Was Joey on par with them? Was he suffering because of the way Buck lived? Not that he could do a thing to change it.

The children woke and the women put away the sewing. Rosie brought Lilly from the bedroom with her two boys following her. At the same time, Joey came from the other room. The boy’s color had improved.

Rosie put Lilly in her chair and the other children sat around the table to eat bread and jam.

“Good food and rest are giving Joey back his strength,” he said.

Kathleen’s gentle gaze brushed him. “God has given us so many reasons to be thankful.”

He nodded. She made it easy for him to believe in God’s bountiful blessings.

“I must return home. I promised Mother and Father I wouldn’t be as late as I was yesterday.”

Buck scrambled to his feet. “I’ll walk you home.”

“It’s not necessary.”

Did he detect a hint of something in her voice he was loath to admit? Was she embarrassed to have him walk her home? “My mother, God rest her soul, would expect no less of me.”

She considered him briefly then nodded. “Very well, though it really isn’t necessary.”

He bent to face his son. “Joey, you stay with Aunt Rosie. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Okay?”

“You be back for sure?”

“For sure.”

“Okay, then.” He returned his attention to the slice of bread.

He slipped into his coat and buttoned it, then held the door for Kathleen, who had already said goodbye to everyone in the room. They tramped along the hardened path.

“Do you realize that’s the first time I’ve heard mention of your mother?”

“Even the likes of Rosie and me have a mother and father, though they are both dead now.” He regretted his words as soon as they were out and hoped she wouldn’t ask about his father.

“I’m sorry for your loss, but you know I didn’t mean you wouldn’t have parents.” She scowled at him, making him feel like a small boy.

“I’m sorry. Sometimes I am too defensive.”

“Both you and Rosie. It’s like you expect someone to kick you in the teeth for no reason.”

Oh, they thought they had reason enough, but he wasn’t about to tell her so.

Kathleen turned to him, her expression a mixture of amusement and something more—perhaps regret? “Rosie’s very fond of you.”

“Like you said, she hides it pretty well.”

Her sweet laugh filled his senses. “Tell me what it was like to have a sister growing up.”

Her questions almost stopped him in his tracks. It took every bit of his well-developed self-control to move forward, to keep his voice steady, as if the memories weren’t filled with a bittersweet taste. “Life was very different then. My parents were alive.”

She didn’t speak, and he wondered how aware she was of the tension gripping his heart.

“There was a time …” He slowed his words to cover his regret. “When my father laughed with joy and said we had much to be grateful for.” How quickly his attitude had changed.

“It sounds nice.”

“It was.” How long since he’d remembered those better days? Far too long. And he vowed right there in the middle of the trail he would give Joey some memories of good times, and he’d find a way to remind Rosie of those happier days when being thankful didn’t require an effort.

“Having a sibling is special.”

Did he detect a lonesome note in her voice? He couldn’t think it was true. She came from a secure, stable, safe family.

They passed the business section of town and climbed a slight hill to a cluster of large houses.

Kathleen stopped walking. “This is where I live.” She indicated a house dominating those around it.

The place was huge. Buck could see why they might need someone to dust and clean. “Just you and your parents live here?” He failed to keep awe from his voice.

“Our cook has quarters here, too.”

“Oh, then that explains why you need such a large house.”

She grinned. “You know it doesn’t. We don’t need a big house, but my father thinks it’s in keeping with his station in life.” Her smile seemed slightly lopsided. “My father has very well-formed ideas of right and wrong.”

“And always does what is right?”

“Always.”

“That’s something to be grateful for, isn’t it?” He knew his voice revealed far more than he wanted to. If his own father had always done what was right, not let his anger and frustration drive him to taking things into his own hands in such a gruesome manner … well, his life and Rosie’s—and now their children’s—would be much different.

Aware that she watched him closely, likely wondering why he seemed so vehement about the idea of right and wrong when they’d been talking about her big house, he again studied the mansion before him. Lots of red brick and white trim around the seemingly endless windows on both the ground floor and second story. “It certainly makes a person stand up and take notice.”

“It’s just a house. Isn’t a house the place where family gathers? Seems to me that what’s important. Not the size of the dwelling.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off the house in front of them. “If you say so.”

“I do. Now stop staring at it. You’re making me uncomfortable.”

He jerked his attention away and toward her. “Why would it make you uncomfortable?”

“Because I don’t want to be judged by who my father is or how large the house I live in is. I want to be judged for my own actions.” Her words rang with fierceness.

“I wish I could think such was possible.” But people would always judge him by who his father was. He couldn’t imagine it would be any different for Kathleen, though for vastly different reasons.

She studied him, her gaze searching out hidden meanings in his words, secrets buried deep in his heart. “Can it not be so between us, at least?”

Her question begged so many things from him. Acceptance of her friendship, but more. Openness, sharing of secrets. He couldn’t offer what she silently asked for, though he ached to do so. “I wish things could be different.”

“Can’t you make them so?”

“I can’t control what others say or think or do.”

“But you can choose who and what you are.”

He searched her frank open gaze. He wanted to point out it was easy for her to choose her own path with the protection of her father’s name. But he didn’t want to spoil the moment.

She continued to study him. “Haven’t you done that already to some extent?”

He didn’t understand. His choice was to leave before people learned the truth or immediately after they did.

She must have seen his confusion. “Adopting Joey.”

“That has never been a hardship.” Though partly because Joey fit into Buck’s way of life … moving on before people got too critical. But was he doing the child a disservice by constantly moving?

“I must go inside.” Kathleen shifted her attention to the house.

“Good afternoon. Thanks for everything.”

She turned back to him. Made him happy he’d said something to accomplish that. “For what?”

“For visiting Rosie and being her friend. For praying for Joey. Reminding me of God.” For being Kathleen and sharing your joy.

She lowered her eyes. “You’re welcome.” Brought her gaze back to his, smiling widely. “I hope you think about God more often now.”

“I surely shall.” Every time he thought of Kathleen and he knew that would be often.

“Goodbye now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She headed up the brick sidewalk, paused at the door to give a little wave.

He lifted a hand in response, waited until the door closed behind her then headed back to Rosie’s, Kathleen’s promise ringing in his ears. See you tomorrow.

How many tomorrows dare he plan? He clamped his jaw down hard, making his teeth ache. Not nearly enough.