part of south central Oklahoma. Most folks depended on ranching, farming and intermittent oil field work to keep afloat, or else they were pensioners making the most of their retirement income. Living was cheap, if limited, in Rain Dance, which boasted a population of some 500 residents within the narrow confines of its city limits and perhaps an equal number in the surrounding area.
Without ever making eye contact, Dan Holden placed a carton of milk on the counter and reached back into his shopping cart for a box of cereal. She took his lack of reply as a good sign. At least he hadn’t refused her outright.
“I’ve got a little money put aside,” she told him, “and you’ve done such a fine job on your place, I was thinking we could maybe help each other out.”
He plunked down a jar of pickles and a squirt bottle of mustard. She reached for the mustard, judging it a perfect fit for the space left in the shopping bag that she was packing. Their hands collided, and he looked up with a jerk, as if she’d burned him. She tried that smile again.
“So what do you think?”
He frowned as if puzzled, then muttered, “I think I have everything I need.”
Becca felt her smile wilt. “I see.” Tamping down her disappointment, she quickly rang up the rest of his purchase. “I guess that means you’re not interested in the job?” He didn’t dignify that with a reply, so she gulped and asked, “Might you be able to recommend someone from around here who could help me?” She’d been asking that question of everyone in town, and his name was the only one that ever seemed to come up.
Dan peered at the digital readout provided by the cash register and plucked bills from his wallet. She counted out his change, figuring that he was thinking over his answer, and left it on the counter. He picked it up, coin by coin, gathered his three bags of groceries and walked out.
Becca’s jaw dropped, but she quickly snapped her mouth shut again. The man hadn’t answered her with so much as a shrug.
Abby had been hovering nearby with her feather duster, listening unabashedly to every word. She now looked at Becca with sad confusion on her face. “Well, he’s sure changed. The Dan Holden I remember was a polite, outgoing young man. He wasn’t much more than a boy, but still, that’s not the same Dan Holden who left here for college. That’s all I’ve got to say.”
“I wonder what changed him,” Becca mused, leaning a hip against the counter.
“God knows,” Abby replied. “God always knows, and that’s what matters, honey. If Dan can’t or won’t help you, God’ll send someone else. You’ll see.”
Becca smiled and put aside her disappointment, knowing that her mother-in-law was right. She wouldn’t have been so certain a few years ago, but she had learned, thanks to the Kinders. When she’d first arrived in Oklahoma as a nineteen-year-old bride of only days, she’d thought she’d made a terrible mistake. She’d met Cody at a rodeo and married the cute cowboy after knowing him for only two weeks. The rodeo life had seemed exciting to a country girl reared on an Iowa farm, but then she’d realize that she’d be spending most of her time in Rain Dance, which had seemed precisely the sort of place from which she’d thought she’d escaped, a dying town peopled with old folks and country yokels.
Then Abby and John Odem Kinder had opened their hearts and their lives to her. They’d shared their small house, their affection and, most important, their faith, and almost before she’d realized what was happening Rain Dance had become home—and she had become a mother to a blond, blue-eyed baby girl. Cody had eventually scraped together enough winnings to buy them a place of their own on a quarter section three and half miles northeast of town.
The house had needed work even then, but the ranch had needed a good pair of breeding stock even more. They were hoping to start the horse herd that would provide the income that would keep Cody at home with his growing family, as Becca was pregnant again. Even without the much-needed repairs on the house, she wouldn’t think of living anywhere else now, not even after finding herself a young widow with two children to support.
Rain Dance had its limitations, but she knew in her heart that this was where the good Lord meant her to be, so this was where she’d stay—even if she could see daylight through some walls of her little house.
Becca shepherded her daughter, Jemmy, into the pew near the front of the church where the Kinders sat, smiling as the four-year-old moppet preened in the simple blue-and-white-polka-dotted dress sewn for her by her grandmother. With her pale blond hair twisted into curls that most likely wouldn’t last the service and a white straw hat tied with a blue ribbon under her chubby chin, she had sat for photos on the front steps of the narrow orange-brick church, giggling as John Odem had snapped away with his camera. Thirteen-month-old CJ had gone up onto his knees, trying to filch plastic eggs from his sister’s Easter basket, his shirttail poking out of his navy blue shorts, matching bow tie seriously askew.
Finally Abby had brought the picture taking to a halt, warning that they would be late if they delayed any longer. Eager to show off her finery, Jemmy had insisted on accompanying her mother to the nursery, where CJ could play without disturbing the service, while her grandparents secured seats in the crowded sanctuary. By the time the middle-aged nursery attendant had finished gushing over how Jem’s dress matched her blue eyes, the pianist had started to play the opening prelude.
As mother and daughter slipped into the pew, Becca smiled at the family in the seats behind them and patiently lifted her gaze toward the rear of the church while Jemmy climbed up onto the cushioned seat. Dan Holden stood in the doorway, a look of consternation on his face. Becca was struck by how handsome he was, standing there with his military bearing in well-pressed slacks, shirt and tie, his square jaw cleanly shaven, short, light brown hair neatly combed, sky-blue eyes searching the crowded pews for a seat.
She’d seen him here before, of course, but he usually slipped in a little late and took a seat on the aisle in the very last pew and then was gone again before she and her family had worked their way to the door. Today, however, even the back pews were packed. She saw him hesitate and then turn slightly as if to leave. Something in her couldn’t let that happen. It was Easter Sunday, the day of all days when a Christian should be in church. Beckoning him with a slight crook of her hand, she quickly turned and slid into the pew, crowding close to her daughter in order to leave space for him on the aisle.
For several long seconds she didn’t know whether or not he would take her up on her invitation, but then she felt his silent presence at her side and glanced up with a welcoming smile. Color stood in small, bright red patches high on his cheekbones, but he nodded thanks and folded his long frame onto the bench seat, elbows pulled tight to his sides. The pastor already stood in the pulpit, and he immediately lifted his voice to welcome all to God’s house and comment on how nice it was to see so many in the congregation.
A few minutes later the music leader took over and got them all onto their feet for the first hymn of the morning. Becca joined in the singing. Jemmy climbed up into her grandfather’s arms so she could see better, while Abby held a hymnal for him. His gravelly bass voice boomed so loudly that Jemmy covered her ears with her hands, which was exactly what John Odem had intended. It was a game they played, one of many. John liked to say that one of the most important lessons he’d learned in his nearly seventy years was to have as much fun as possible to help balance the difficulty that life often dealt. Having fun definitely included teasing his granddaughter. Smiling indulgently, Becca glanced at Dan Holden out of the corner of her eye. To her surprise Dan stared straight ahead, rigid and silent.
Realizing that he didn’t have a hymnal, Becca briefly considered offering to share her own, but his stiffness made her uncertain. Compelled to seek
