squelched as she turned back to the stove. Abe wasn’t unkind. He simply liked things done properly, neatly. It wasn’t too much to expect. Especially if she wanted him to offer marriage to make the arrangement permanent.
Too bad he couldn’t enjoy life as much as Linc McCoy appeared to.
Sally slammed a pot lid on the cupboard with more force than necessary. Why was she thinking about a stranger when her future lay in this house? If she proved herself acceptable—and she vowed she would. And who was Linc McCoy to be hanging about Mrs. Shaw’s place like he owned it?
She managed to present a passable meal, substituting slabs of bread for the potatoes. Her father had always said there was nothing quite as good as bread and gravy, but she could tell Abe didn’t share the opinion. However, he ate without complaint and pushed from the table a little later, having eaten enough to satisfy most any appetite.
“You did fine despite your mistakes. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She met his gaze for a moment but as always felt awkward and darted her glance past him to the dirty dishes. “I’ll wash up before I head home.”
“I appreciate that.”
Yet somehow she wondered if he did, or if he expected it. Immediately she scolded herself for her wicked thoughts. Why was she suddenly so keen to criticize him? She had no right. She was here to do a job. With the unspoken agreement that it could lead to more.
A window stood over the sink and as she washed dishes, she glanced out frequently. She faced the back of the yard, toward Mrs. Shaw’s place. A gate near the barn swung back and Linc, astride Big Red, rode out. He sat on the horse like the two were one, his hat pulled low to shield his eyes from the slanting rays of the sun. Red raced down the alley between the two properties. Linc and Red flowed like fast-moving water down the fence line. At the corner, the horse reared.
Sally’s heart clamored up her throat. He was going to be thrown.
But instead, he let out a loud whoop that reached her through the open window. Then he laughed and rode back.
He saw her staring at him and waved his hat, grinning so widely and freely it tugged at some remote part of her heart. Oh, to feel so free and full of enjoyment.
With another whoop, he guided the horse past the barn and out of sight.
She didn’t know who he was, but he certainly seemed to think life was a lark. She forced her attention back to the stack of dirty dishes and hoped he would ride fast and far, out of her thoughts.
Linc galloped two miles down the road before he turned and allowed Red to keep a sedate pace on the way back to his grandparents’ farm—now Grandmama’s farm. Grandpa had died two years ago and ever since, Grandmama had been begging Linc to come back and help her.
He might never have come, except for the way things had worked out.
He settled back in the saddle and thought of the afternoon. Little Robbie had ventured into the corral, unaware Linc watched. The little boy wore nice clothes but an unhappy expression. He wondered what brought such a look to a child’s face until Sally said the boy’s mother had died. Linc understood how that felt. His own mother had died when he was but fifteen. Much older than Robbie, but still too young to be motherless. Mothers kept the family together, provided a moral compass. Without a mother … well, his family had certainly gone downhill. Not that he intended to dwell on it or try to find someone or something to pin the blame on.
His mood shifted and he grinned as he thought of Sally. He didn’t remember her from before, so the Morgans must have moved in after they left when he was sixteen. Otherwise he would have certainly remembered her. Even then he liked a good-looking woman. And Sally was certainly that, with wavy brown hair falling to her shoulders, capturing the sun’s rays like miser’s gold in each wave. Eyes the color of olive-green water, like he’d seen in the mountains to the west. Eyes that widened in surprise at seeing him, narrowed with caution before taking his hand. He rubbed his hand against the warm denim on his leg. He had only meant to be helpful, but her cool flesh against his had felt like a hot iron, searing her brand on his palm. He pressed his fist to his chest, feeling marked inside as well and ignored the urge to thump himself on the forehead at such silly ideas. He dropped his hand back to his leg.
Obviously a proper young woman.
Even if she didn’t know the McCoy reputation, she would soon enough hear it. Not that it mattered what people said. He’d tried to tell his pa and older brother so six years ago. Stay and prove the rumors false, he’d said. But he was only sixteen and they weren’t about to listen to him.
Now he was back and determined to do what he’d wanted back then—prove the McCoys were not sticky-fingered scoundrels.
And of course, care for his injured father.
Time to get back to the task.
Despite the duties calling him, he took his time unsaddling Red, then spent a leisurely thirty minutes grooming him and tidying up the barn before he headed for the house. He paused inside the door and breathed in the homey scents of yeasty bread and cinnamon. No matter where he’d gone in the past six years, he’d missed this place.
Grandmama sat in her favorite spot—a rocking chair by the window—doing needlework. “I ‘spect you’re missing your freedom.”
He understood what she didn’t say. That she feared he would leave again as soon as Pa—
Memories of a pretty face flashed through his brain. Even if he had planned to leave, getting to know Miss Sally better was enough to make him reconsider. “I never wanted to go in the first place.”
Grandmama glanced up then. “You should have stayed. You could stay now and run this place.”
He wondered if anyone else would hope he’d remain. “I had to go with Pa and Harris.” Though he couldn’t exactly say why. Guess the same loyalty that brought him back with Pa. “How is he?”
“Haven’t heard from him.”
Which meant he was sleeping. The painkiller the doctor provided was doing its job. Once it wore off, Pa would start hollering and cussing. Poor Grandmama—having to listen to Pa in one of his rages. Yet when Linc showed up on the doorstep dragging his injured father, she had calmly opened the door and welcomed them. And she’d cried when Linc said Harris had died in the mining accident that injured Pa.
“He was my oldest grandson. Despite his rebellious ways I have never stopped loving him and praying for him.” She’d hugged Linc long and hard. “Are you still walking in your faith?” she asked when her tears were spent.
He’d had his struggles, his ups and downs and times of doubt, but he was happy to be able to give her the answer she longed for. “I hold fast to my faith and God’s love.”
“I don’t suppose Harris or your Pa ever made that choice?”
“Not Pa. I don’t know about Harris. You know how he always tried so hard to please Pa.” Even if Harris believed in God, he might well hide it from Pa so as to not incur his displeasure.
“Then this is why God sent you home. To allow Jonah another chance to change his ways. My Mary would want her husband to become a Christian.”
Linc permitted himself a
