calls it whang leather. He made it from a deer.”
Leather to tie up a little girl’s hair. Still, it probably worked well. She parted Liesl’s hair and quickly fashioned two braids, wrapping the leather around the ends and tying it. “There you go. You look sweet.”
“Thank you. Daddy says I am pretty like my mama, but it’s how I act that is important.”
“Your daddy is right.” She caught “Daddy’s” eye and smiled.
“Can we go eat breakfast now?” Liesl hopped on her toes.
“Absolutely. Right after we turn down your covers to air the bed. Shall we do it together?” Kate pushed herself up awkwardly, and before she got upright, Oscar was there at her elbow, helping her. His hand was warm on her arm, and she was grateful for his assistance. “Thank you. It’s getting harder to maneuver these days.”
He stepped back, his eyes wary, and she laughed. “Don’t look so worried. I told Liesl the truth. I have a couple of months yet. Until Christmas.”
He didn’t laugh with her.
* * *
Breakfast was an ordeal. Kate had little appetite in the mornings these days, and especially not for oatmeal so sticky it clung to the roof of her mouth and tasted of damp newspaper. Grossmutter would have made a coffee cake for breakfast today, using her sourdough starter from the crock that always sat on the shelf behind the stove. Now the shelf, the crock and the stove were gone.
Their host and the maker of the meal shoveled the gooey mass into his mouth as if stoking a furnace. His daughter sat on a high chair, her little boots kicking a rung as she poked and stirred her oatmeal, taking little bites and watching the strangers at her table. Uncertain, but clearly curious.
As for Oscar Rabb... Someone had put a burr on his shirttail. He must have morning moods, because from the moment she’d offered to help with his daughter’s hair, he’d been wary and gruff, as if having them there put him out considerably and he couldn’t wait for them to leave.
Inge and Martin ate quietly, still looking exhausted and facing a difficult day. How could Kate help them through it when she felt as if she was barely hanging on herself? And yet, she must. Johann would expect it, and they needed her. And she loved them as if they were her own grandparents. Having lost her family soon after her wedding, Johann’s grandparents were all the family she had left now.
“I am finished.” She put her spoon down, her bowl still more than half full. “We had better get going soon. The cows will be waiting at the barn door.”
“Oscar,” Grossvater said. “I would like to leave Inge here, if that is all right? Kate and I can tend the cows and the cheeses. Perhaps Inge can help with the little one.” He nodded toward Liesl.
The little girl’s eyes grew rounder, and she looked to her father. “Actually...” He let his spoon clatter into his empty bowl. “I was thinking that you should all stay here. I can milk your cows for you today.”
Kate blinked. He’d been grouchy all morning, and now he was volunteering to milk ten cows all by himself? Cows that weren’t even his? He’d been reluctant from the first to have them in his house, and now he was offering to give them even more help?
“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Rabb.” Kate scooted her chair back and went to stand behind her family, putting her hands on their shoulders. “But we don’t want to be any more of a burden to you than we already have been. We must see to our own chores, and we must decide where we are to go.”
Inge stood and began clearing the table. “Nonsense, Martin. We will all go. We need to see what can be salvaged of the house, if anything, and there is plenty of work to do this morning. I am old, but I am not useless.” She gave her husband a determined look, and he shook his head, smiling and patting her hand.
“I only wanted to spare you the unpleasantness for a while. If you are sure, we will all go.”
Liesl hopped off her chair and scampered toward the door, lifting a contraption of wood and straps and toting it to her father. “Me, too, Daddy?”
He took the odd item and rubbed her head with his large hand. “You, too, Poppet, but we’ll take the wagon over and use this later.”
“Can she ride in our wagon with us?” Liesl pointed to Kate.
Kate stopped buttoning her coat—still smelling of smoke—in surprise. “Me?”
Liesl nodded. “I like you. You’re pretty. Are you sure you aren’t a princess? You look like the princess in my book.” She turned to Grossmutter. “Did you know she has a baby in her tummy? Daddy’s going to get me a baby for Christmas. He said I should ask for the one thing that I want most, and he would get it for me.”
Grossmutter smiled. “Do you mean a doll baby?”
Liesl shook her head, her braids sliding on her shoulders. “No, I have a doll baby. I want a real baby. Like Miss Kate’s.” She crossed her arms, a determined look in her little brown eyes. “I like Miss Kate.”
Kate laughed, smoothing her unruly hair and glancing down at her masculine coat, ordinary farm dress and burgeoning middle. “Bless you, child. I like you, too.” Her father had his hands full with this one. Just how was he going to dissuade her from her wish of a real baby for Christmas?
Oscar’s frown took some of the pleasure out of the little girl’s compliment. “Mrs. Amaker probably wants to ride with her family. Don’t pester her.”
Which Kate took to mean he didn’t want her riding with him and his daughter. Liesl’s mouth set in a stubborn line, but she didn’t argue with her father.
So they arrived at the Amaker farm in two wagons. Kate took one look at the burned-out shell of a house, the half-toppled chimney and the wisps of smoke still drifting from the piles of ashes, and covered her mouth with trembling fingers.
It definitely did not look better in the morning light.
Grossvater pulled the wagon to a stop and sat with the reins loose in his hands, resting his forearms on his thighs. “We must thank God that we were not at home when this happened, that none of us was lost in this fire.”
He wrapped the lines around the brake handle and climbed down, reaching up to help Grossmutter. Kate began to descend the other side of the wagon, but before she could step on the high wheel, Oscar was there, reaching up for her and lifting her gently to the ground. He looked sober and wary.
“You should be careful. You wouldn’t want to fall.” He stepped back. Liesl waited in his wagon, but the dog had jumped down, already nosing around the edges of the devastation.
“Come, Kate,” Grossvater said, holding out his hand. “We need to pray.”
She rounded the wagon and joined the old couple. She needed to hear Grossvater pray, to lean on the strength of his faith, because hers was feeling mighty small this morning. Tucking her hand into his work-worn, age-spotted clasp, she sucked in a deep breath and bowed her head. A smile touched her lips as Liesl’s hand slipped into hers.
“Our Father, we give You thanks for this day and that we are here to praise You. We thank You that we still have our cows and our barns and our land.
