She’d see to that.
She sought a more pleasant topic for her thoughts and settled on the diamond brooch Jim had given to her. It used to be their mother’s and before that, her mother’s. She and Jim had laughed together knowing the little stone in the setting was likely only glass. It didn’t matter. It represented their mother.
“You can hand it down to your eldest daughter,” he’d said.
She’d laughed. “What makes you think I’ll get married?”
He’d squeezed her shoulder. “You’re beautiful. You’ll have dozens of suitors calling.”
At the time, she’d been moved by his praise. Not since her parents died had she felt so blessed. But now it didn’t matter if she was beautiful or not. She’d not have suitors calling once they heard she had four children to raise as her own. She certainly didn’t count Alfred Morris. He was more of a dictator than a suitor. A man who wanted to own her. She knew he would constantly remind her how much she owed him for giving her a fine home.
She’d had enough of that.
And it wasn’t as if she’d have time for courting.
She’d thought a time or two of selling the brooch. But it was the only physical reminder she had of her mother and wasn’t worth a lot in the way of money. The diamond—if it was such—was so small she could barely see it. Instead, she’d trusted God to lead her to another way to manage.
She’d certainly not considered trading the corrals for seeding the crop and would still refuse if the good Lord would provide another way. Please, God, perhaps there’s an old married man who would work for a crop share. Straightening, she squinted toward the trail that led to town in the hopes of seeing a wagon headed her way. The breeze lifted a swirl of dust but nothing more. Seems that prayer was not to be answered at the moment. Anytime soon would do, Lord. She turned back to the fence.
A few minutes later, she twisted the last wire and straightened. “That should hold.”
“Can we go play now?” Robbie asked.
“Yes, you may.” She remained at the fence as they scampered off in various directions. “Don’t wander away,” she thought to call.
Alone for a few minutes and everything momentarily peaceful, she looked about and breathed deeply. She needed this time to think and pray. Father God, please help me keep the children. That means a way to do the farm work as well as time to tend to the children’s needs. Of course, God didn’t need the constant reminding, but she knew no other way to set her worries aside.
She could not linger, and hurried toward the house and the many tasks at hand.
The milk cow trotted away as she neared the yard and headed straight for the hole Susanne had just fixed. Seeing her way blocked, the cow mooed and shook her head.
“Too bad, old girl, you’ll have to stay in your pasture from now on.” Susanne entered the house and found Liz and Janie sitting at the table.
“Can we eat now?” Liz asked. “We’re hungry.”
Susanna didn’t need to look at the clock over the doorway to the living room to know the morning was almost gone and she’d accomplished so little. Being every bit as hungry as the children, she pulled out a frying pan, wiped it clean and set it on the stove to heat while she cut the leftover potatoes. Once they were browned, she broke in eggs. What did it matter if it was only eleven o’clock?
“Call your brothers and we’ll have dinner.”
When the boys clattered through the door, she told them to wash up.
She smiled at the way they bumped into each other. Two boys full of energy and playfulness. Guilt stung her throat. When Jim was alive, he’d romped with them, and she’d played quiet games with them. But it had been weeks since she’d had time to play with any of them.
Susanne put the pan in the middle of the table and looked at Liz and Janie on one side, Frank and Robbie on the other. Her gaze lingered on the vacant spot at the end where Jim used to sit. She swallowed hard, missing him yet feeling blessed by the presence of the children. “Let us pray.” Her voice caught on the words.
The children obediently clasped their hands together under their chins and bowed their heads.
“Lord, we are so blessed to have each other and to have food to eat. Thank You. Amen.”
“Amen!” Frank added with so much enthusiasm that Susanne chuckled.
“It’s not like you’ve been starving to death.” She again felt a sting of guilt. Her meals were simple fare. She lacked time for anything else.
She really should do more cooking. Make bread again. It was weeks since they’d had anything but biscuits and fry cakes. Not that both weren’t perfectly adequate. Just as fried potatoes and eggs were perfectly fine for a meal. Perhaps not day after day, an inner voice suggested. Susanne promised herself she’d do better...once she got the work on the farm taken care of.
“Robbie, slow down.” The child ate as if it was a race.
Frank spoke slowly. “I’m glad Tanner is going to bring his horses here. Pa would have liked that.” Frank’s jaw grew firm, reminding her of Jim. Tears caught in the back of her throat. She’d waited so long to be reunited with her brother only to lose him again. At least until she got to heaven.
“He planned to capture some of the wild horses himself,” Frank explained.
Susanne knew that. In fact, he might well be alive today if not for that dream. He had been following the whereabouts of the herd when he got caught in a downpour that eventually led to his pneumonia.
Frank continued. “He had the corrals all ready and would have gotten his horses for sure except Ma got sick and then he got sick.” His voice quavered but he pushed on. “He told me I could help him when he got the horses. He’d have to gentle them first, but then I could help feed them and could talk to them so they’d learn not to be afraid of children.” Frank sucked in a ragged breath, as did his brother and sisters. This talk of their father and mother would soon have them all in tears. “I want to help Tanner with the horses.”
Susanne jolted back. “I’m sorry, but I must refuse you permission. It simply wouldn’t be safe and I sure don’t want anything to happen to any of you.”
Frank hung his head but not before she caught a glimpse of rebellion in his eyes.
She’d never considered she’d encounter problems with the children. But she must insist. Being around wild horses simply wasn’t safe.
The children were subdued throughout the remainder of the meal. Afterward they helped with the dishes, then scattered outside. She should give them more chores but couldn’t seem to get any organized for them and she freely admitted she didn’t want them to have to work as hard as she had for Aunt Ada.
She glanced about the kitchen. It needed a good cleaning. Alice would be shocked at the way it looked, and Aunt Ada would have had her whipped for the neglect.
But she no longer answered to Aunt Ada or depended on her for a roof over her head and a meal to warm her insides.
She
