“I’m awful glad you haven’t found a man to your liking yet.”

Glory smiled at Cade, her gaze on him assessing. He was to be admired; not only did he seem to be honest and forthright, but he claimed to have a fund of money available should she want to sell any portion of her farm to him.

If she was wrong, if this Cade McAllister was not all he seemed to be, she would have made a mistake greater than any she’d ever made. But if she were right, and if the sheriff was correct in his thinking, then Cade might be the salvation she sought. A man who would be willing to take on the farm and make a success of Buddy’s inheritance. A man to look out for her and the children. A friend for herself.

And perhaps even a husband.

AUTHOR NOTE

I loved this story from the first page on. It dwells on the building of a relationship—a natural outcome of the sort of marriage Glory enters into. The children involved are a large part of this story, for they are also a large part of Glory’s life. I love children, and enjoy including them in my work. The bond formed between Buddy and his stepfather is a path to the relationship that develops, binding the whole family together. Just another Carolyn Davidson story—one of love within the boundaries of a family and the joy to be found in the midst of a home.

I sincerely hope you will relate in some way to the characters who live on these pages, for I wrote this novel with my readers in mind. You have told me what you like to read and have made your position clear. So I write for you, all of you—those who make contact with me by mail or the internet, all of you who buy my books so faithfully and hopefully will continue to do so. The hours spent in front of my computer, my fingers flying over the keys, are dedicated to each of you.

I sometimes wish I could have lived in the days of old, that I could have been a woman such as Glory, living with wood stoves to cook on and scrub boards leaning inside a washtub upon which to clean my family’s laundry. Hmm … perhaps I’ll stick to writing of such women, enjoy my modern conveniences, and forget about churning butter.

So, until my next book and the next time I speak to each of you, I’ll be thinking of new stories to write and new characters to fill the pages.

Happy reading!

About the Author

Reading, writing and research—CAROLYN DAVIDSON’s life in three simple words. At least that area of her life having to do with her career as a historical romance author. The rest of her time is divided among husband, family and travel—her husband, of course, holding top priority in her busy schedule. Then there is their church, and the church choir in which they participate. Their sons and daughters, along with assorted spouses, are spread across the eastern half of America, together with numerous grandchildren. Carolyn welcomes mail at her post office box, PO Box 2757, Goose Creek, SC 29445, USA.

Previous novels by the same author:

A MARRIAGE BY CHANCE

THE TEXAN

TEMPTING A TEXAN

STORMWALKER’S WOMAN

(short story in One Starry Christmas)

TEXAS GOLD

THE MARRIAGE AGREEMENT

ABANDONED

(short story in Wed Under Western Skies)

TEXAS LAWMAN

OKLAHOMA SWEETHEART

A CHRISTMAS CHILD

(short story in The Magic of Christmas)

LONE STAR BRIDE

MARRIED IN MISSOURI

(short story in Mail-Order Marriages)

and in Mills & Boon® Super Historical Romance:

REDEMPTION

HAVEN

THE OUTLAW’S BRIDE

THE BRIDE

A Man for Glory
Carolyn Davidson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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A MAN FOR GLORY

is dedicated to those women who found happiness

in marriages of convenience—a common occurrence

in the olden days. My own grandmother, at the age

of fifteen, came from Austria to marry a man in

Dearborn, Michigan, without ever seeing him.

It was a marriage that produced seven children,

one of whom was my father. I have a love for

such relationships, and write about them often.

And, as always, this work in its entirety

is dedicated to Mr. Ed, who loves me.

Prologue

Green River, Kansas

1847

The man who answered the door looked as if he’d seen better days. His hands were work-worn, his clothing no doubt soiled from toiling in the field out back of the barn. The pitchfork he’d apparently been using leaned against the side of the house, as if he’d left it there so it would be handy when he returned to the seemingly insurmountable job he’d left undone. Hay lay on the ground in neat rows, drying in the sun.

It looked as if he might be in need of help and so she offered. “I’m looking for a job, mister. My name is Glory Kennedy. I need a place to stay and work for my keep. I can cook and clean and I’m a hard worker.”

Her gaze met his, and shadows beneath his eyes told of long days and nights without enough sleep. And the words he spoke carried the ring of truth.

“Pleased to meet you. I can sure use some help here. But one thing we’ll get straight right off. I won’t be lookin’ to get underneath your skirts, girl. I just want a woman to take care of my young’uns and keep things up around here. My name’s Harvey Clark, a widow man with more work than I can handle. I’d be pleased should you give me a hand. There’s an extra bedroom you can use.”

The man’s offer was far from what Glory had hoped to hear back during those days when she’d been a dreamer. But life had proved to be one set of failures after another, with the latest landing her on this man’s doorstep, hearing him offer her a life of servitude and not much of a promise for a future.

She’d walked away from the wagon train after her parents were buried, lying side by side with many more from the group. Diphtheria was a powerful disease, and had it not been for Glory’s mother sending her from the wagon when she and her father became ill, she’d have no doubt been buried along the trail with the dozen or so who’d been put to rest beneath the prairie grass.

Her unwillingness to choose a husband from any of the survivors who’d offered had left her on her own, for a woman unmarried could not travel with a wagon train. And so she’d run, across the open country where tall grasses grew in endless meadows, to where a small town cast its shadow on the horizon. And then the sight of a group of buildings, a tidy farm, had offered shelter of a sort.

Now the man who stood before her offered her more of the same future that had sent her fleeing just days since. Except that this one claimed he had no interest in lifting her skirts, only needing her to tend his children and keep them and their clothing clean.

Looking at it from that viewpoint, she was tempted to quit running and hiding and instead seize the opportunity to settle in one spot for longer than a day or two.

“How many children do you have?” she asked him, noting the rough beard, the shaggy hair, the fatigued eyes.

“Two. A boy past the age for startin’ school, and a girl, walkin’ and talkin’, but not much use to me yet.”

She needed all the cards laid out on the table, so she prodded a bit more. “You want them cared for? And you want someone to cook and clean?”

His head had been bowed, but now he lifted weary eyes to her, and she saw beyond the wrinkled clothing, the lean body and the whiskered face. Saw a man at the end of his rope. A man who might be the means to an end for her. An end to running, a chance to catch her breath and find a new beginning.

“And you won’t expect me to—” Unable to utter the words, she felt a blush cover her cheeks and heard a dry chuckle from the man who faced her on the narrow porch.

“No, I won’t expect anything of you but that you treat my young’uns right, and see to it there’s food on the table.”

From behind him, a small face peered past his denim trousers. Wide blue eyes viewed her with suspicion and a small hand rose to press against a soft mouth. The child was probably two or three years old, if her father’s words were to be believed, for she was obviously the one who walked and talked but wasn’t of much use to the man.

Small for her age, but bright-eyed and dainty, she viewed this stranger as though she hoped for some small bit of attention.

“This is your daughter?” Glory asked quietly, venturing a smile at the child.

“Essie’s her name. Her mama called her Esther, but she answers to most anything.” His big hand touched the matted hair, resting there in a gesture Glory decided could pass for affection. And that small gesture decided her future.

A man couldn’t be all bad when he touched a small child so kindly, when his first thought was for someone to tend her needs. And so she nodded briskly, sealing her fate for the days ahead.

“I’ll take on your children, mister. I’ll cook and keep things clean if you’ve told me the truth about having a room of my own where I won’t be disturbed and food for me to cook. I’ll need a washtub and a scrubbing board and a good supply of soap. I don’t cook in a dirty kitchen, and from what I can see past you, yours isn’t much to brag about.”

Glory saw the look of hope that formed on his weathered face. “I’ll provide what you need if you’ll take on my young’uns and feed them some good meals and wash up their clothes.”

“You’ve got a deal, mister,” Glory said, recognizing that a better prospect might not be available should she keep on walking.

“Just one thing, missy.” His eyes darkened as he gave her chapter and verse of his bargain. “You’ll marry me, first chance we have to get to town. My kids won’t be living in a house with a man and woman who don’t share the same name. And if something happens to me, they need to know that there’s somebody who’ll look out for them.”

Glory swallowed hard, taken aback by the words he spoke, and then she tilted her chin and spit out her own conditions. “The bargain will still remain, mister. I’ll still have my own bed and you’ll stay out of it.”

His look was hard, but his brief smile gave consent to her words. “I give you my word, girl.” His head jerked toward the interior of the house. “I had one woman up there in my bedroom. A mighty good woman. There ain’t another alive can take her place. I don’t want another one.”

Glory nodded her agreement and stepped past him, her steps slow as she walked through the doorway into the farmhouse that would be her home.

And as she passed by the small girl, a tiny hand reached up to touch her own, as a fragile smile appeared on the small, dirty face.

“Tell you what, Essie. Let’s get you washed up and your hair combed. I’ll warrant you’re a pretty girl.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the child said quietly. And in that moment Glory’s heart was touched and her courage strengthened by the choice she’d made.

Chapter One

Green River, Kansas

1850

“Your papers seem to be in order, Mr. McAllister. What I want to know is why the bank sent a Pinkerton man out here to see me.” The sheriff held the sheaf of paperwork in his hands, glancing once more at the first page of Cade McAllister’s identification, the details certifying him a Pinkerton detective, in the employ of a large bank in St. Louis.

“You had a hanging here a month or so ago, sir. I was sent to verify the man’s identity and begin a search on behalf of the bank for the money he took in a robbery ten years ago. The bank had a dandy time catching up with him. Pure luck they ran him down to ground here.”

The sheriff nodded bruskly. “The man was Harvey Clark and though it was a nasty business, I did just what I was ordered to do by the government. Clark was a bank robber, according to the details I was given. I was all set to send him back to St. Louis, and let the law there handle it, but my orders were clear. He was sentenced to death by hanging ten years ago, and when he escaped in a jailbreak, his sentence trailed right along behind him. They gave me the job of carrying it out here in Green River.”

“Sounds like we’re on the same page, Sheriff. Can’t say I envy a lawman his job when it comes to such stuff, but my job now is to try locating the gold.”

Joe Lawson chuckled. “More power to you, McAllister. There’s been a dozen men digging around on the Clark farm in the last couple of weeks and no one’s had any success yet. My guess is, it’s in the house somewhere, but I’ve made it my business to take that place apart since the hanging and couldn’t find hide nor hair of it. The cellar’s an open book, the pantry the same. I went over the bedrooms with Mrs. Clark’s permission. I think she’d like to have the gold located same as me. It’d save her a lot of frustration, should it come to light, for she fears the chance of strangers coming by and giving her a hassle over it.”

“Well, I’m the next best fella for the job, it seems. The insurance company doesn’t want Mrs. Clark to know who I am. They’ve given me a cover as a man looking for a farm to buy, with a nice nest egg in my pocket.”

“Mrs. Clark isn’t interested in selling her place, McAllister. Nor in getting married and giving the title to a husband. And that’s what will happen should she marry again. The law don’t do much for women, you know.”

Cade grinned. “I know all about that. My mother was left a ranch when Pa died, and when she remarried, it all went to her new husband. Fortunately, he was a man of honor and he took care of her and raised me and my brothers the way my pa would have wanted.”

Joe Clark nodded knowingly. “She’s a lucky woman, then. Lots of men are looking to freeload. Glory Clark’s been stung a couple times, had to use her shotgun to chase off a fella or two when they came courting. She’s a good woman, McAllister, and I won’t put up with any shenanigans where she’s concerned. You’ll be honest with her so far as you can.”

“I won’t tell her who I represent, Sheriff. My job is to find the gold that Harvey Clark hid somewhere. I’ll get a reward for it, and keep my hands clean. I’m not a thief, nor a man to harm a woman in any way.”

The sheriff placed the sheaf of paperwork on his desk with a flurry of pages scattering hither and yon. He gathered them up into a pile and opened his desk drawer, placing them inside. “Your job is your own business, McAllister. I’ll introduce you to the widow lady as a man looking to buy a place in this area. I’ll show her the stuff the bank sent that covers you, the letters from your minister in your hometown, and give you my recommendation as an honest man.”

“How do we go about meeting this lady, Sheriff?” Cade asked, already looking ahead to the task he’d assumed. One way or another he’d find the gold, and in the process, leave the lady a bit to help her along in her struggles.

“Let’s take a ride out there right now, McAllister. She’s always at home, what with two youngsters to take care of.”

And without further ado, the men rode west from Green River to where a holding sat several miles out of town. A sign over the lane leading to the house read, The Clark Farm, and near the unpainted house, a woman stood in the midst of a garden.

“That’s Mrs. Clark, McAllister. She’s young, but capable. Been raising those two young’uns by herself and running this farm alone. I won’t stand for anyone giving her a hassle.”

“I read you right, Sheriff,” Cade said, taking in the small figure ahead of them. She was dark-haired and slender, a woman who appeared too small to be saddled with a farm and two children to raise. “There won’t be any shenanigans on my part.”

“If I didn’t feel you were a man to be trusted, I wouldn’t have brought you here, mister. Now let’s introduce you and I’ll leave you to it.” The sheriff raised a hand in greeting and they halted their mounts near Glory Clark.

“Mrs. Clark,” the sheriff said in greeting. “This here is a fella who’s on the lookout for a piece of property to buy and run. I told him about your farm and he’s mighty interested in making a deal with you.”

“I’m not giving up my farm, Sheriff. I thought you were aware of that,” Glory said firmly.

“Ma’am, I’d like a chance to talk to you and meet your children. This place looks to be a fine setting for a horse-breeding and training ranch. I’d like to give you my credentials and introduce you to my thoughts for your place,” Cade said with assurance.

“How would you know all that just from riding up my lane and taking a gander at the place, mister? I’m willing to sit down on the back porch and talk to you, but I’ll tell you right now, I’m not willing to sell out to anyone.”

The man nodded. “My name’s Cade McAllister, from Oklahoma. I’m good with horses and know all the ins and outs of running a farm. I can put in a good day’s work with the best of them, ma’am. Perhaps I can be of some use to you here. Anyway, can we sit and talk?”

There was about the man a look of honesty, Glory thought. He was sturdy, a man of strength, if she was any judge. Besides, the sheriff seemed to think he was to be trusted. His clothing was clean and a bit worn, but his saddle was well oiled and the horse he rode was a good one, a stallion of perhaps sixteen hands, held under control by the man’s easy grip on the reins.

It wouldn’t hurt to hear him out, she decided. She led the way to the porch and called into the screen door as she climbed the steps. “Essie, please bring out some lemonade, and a plate of the cookies we baked this morning.”

Within minutes, a small child, pretty as a picture, appeared in the doorway, sidling past the threshold with a tray in her hands. “Here you go, Glory. I didn’t know how many glasses you wanted, so I brought four.” Small and delicate in stature, the child was fair-haired with eyes as blue as a summer sky, with a ready smile for the visitor.

Glory touched the girl on the shoulder and took the tray from her hands. “Thanks, Essie. Now, go find Buddy, then both of you come back here and sit with us.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she answered, and ran off across the yard to the barn.

“Won’t you sit down, sir?” Glory asked the visitor.

“Yes, ma’am. I surely will. My name is Cade, ma’am. The sheriff said yours is Glory Clark.”

She looked down the lane toward the town road, where the sheriff rode his horse at a steady trot. “Guess he’s heading back to town. You know, I had a bad time with him, what with him robbing my young’uns of their pa the way he did. But he’s been kind to us since then. He’s a pretty sharp man, to tell the truth. If he trusts you, guess there isn’t any reason for me not to do the same,” Glory said. “Now, what are you wanting to offer me?”

Cade handed her a sheaf of papers and sat back on a rocker near the back door. “I’m a man of sufficient means, Mrs. Clark. I have a decent nest egg in the bank and a good knowledge of horses and such. I’ve been looking for a place to buy and I’m mighty interested in this one.” His gaze rested for a moment on her face, then slid to encompass her entire body as he spoke again. “I’m an honest man and if you’ll read the paperwork I gave you, I think you’ll see that I’m on the up-and-up.”

Glory nodded, admiring the man before her. And that in itself was a strange happening, for she had been made offers aplenty, both for her property and her hand in marriage, by a number of men from the surrounding countryside, and none of them had earned more than a wave of her shotgun for their trouble. Cade McAllister was different. He was tall and well-built, with eyes that looked at her squarely, and documents that might support his claims. He appealed to a part of her that had long been cold and empty, bringing to life a warmth within her very being.

“Let me read this over, Mr. McAllister. If you have the time, you can join us for supper. And perhaps you’d like to bed down in the barn tonight. Tomorrow I’ll hear you out, but I’ll tell you now, I’m not looking to sell my place. We’ll talk more, after I’ve had a chance to deal with this raft of papers you’ve given me to read.”

Cade nodded. “That makes sense to me, ma’am. Can I wash up at the horse trough?”

“Either there or in the kitchen,” Glory answered. She rose and went into the house, Essie and Buddy following behind. Without instructions, the two children washed their hands and faces and prepared to set the table. Glory watched as her guest washed at the sink and then stood by her table.

She nodded at a chair and he sat, speaking to Buddy in a casual manner. Glory watched as she prepared the food for the table, and a shiver took her unaware as Cade glanced up at her and smiled. Perhaps she’d been foolish, allowing him into her home. And yet … she looked at him again and met his gaze. Dark eyes seemed to see her very thoughts and his mouth curved in a warm smile. She could only hope she hadn’t put her family in peril. She shook her head, a small movement that denied that idea.

Another glance at Cade found him grinning at Buddy, and then Buddy addressed Glory, his smile wide as he spoke of the man who sat beside him. “I sure do enjoy talking about books and such with Cade, Glory. He’s read a whole lot of stuff, some that I’ve read, too. I’m gonna show him the ones the teacher from the school in town lent to me. Maybe after we eat, he can go in the parlor and look at my library.”

Library. Glory thought of the six or seven books that comprised the boy’s collection. Hopefully Cade would voice his approval of them and thus encourage Buddy. She considered the impact the man had made here already. She could only hope that his presence would not be a mistake that would cost her … And then she faced the truth of the matter as she recalled his words. I’m interested in this place. But his meaning was clear, for a good portion of his interest was focused on her, Glory Clark.

He might have already cost her more than she could afford.

Chapter Two

“Get out some bowls and small plates, Essie.” Glory issued instructions as she brought a kettle of soup to the table, then sought out a ladle to use. Filling the bowls Essie provided her, she placed one before each chair and spoke again to the girl who watched her.

“Get some butter in the pantry, please, and bring out some jam,” Glory said quietly, and Essie moved quickly to obey. A container of jam in one hand, the plate of butter in the other, she paused by Cade’s chair and shot him a quick grin as she arranged the table. Glory sliced bread with a steady hand and filled a plate with the remains of a loaf she’d unwrapped from the kitchen dresser where she stored her bread.

A coffeepot sat on the back burner of the kitchen range and Essie ran to find a cup for Cade, then brought it to him and placed it by his bowl. “I’ll get you a glass for milk, Glory, and one for me and for Buddy, too.”

Glory took a pan of biscuits from the oven and dumped them into a bowl, then put them in the warming oven. “We’ll have the strawberries atop the biscuits for dessert, Mr. McAllister. We have lots of cream to serve with them, and we have them often thataway, for biscuits and strawberries are a favorite of the children.”

They all took their places at the table, then Glory spoke words of thanksgiving for the food, the children folding their hands while she prayed. Buddy looked up at her as she buttered his bread and scooped honey from the dish and spread it atop the butter.

“Glory, my pa’s not ever coming home, is he?” Buddy asked in a quiet voice.

Glory lifted her gaze to the boy. “Buddy, we’ve talked about this before, and as tough as the answer is, we have to move on with our lives. Your pa is dead and gone, buried in the churchyard. Now we can only do our best to go on as he would have wanted.”

“I just feel like he should be here,” the boy said quietly. “Every time I look out in the hay field, I think I should see him there. And when I come in the house, I expect to see him at the dinner table or washing up in the sink.”

Glory nodded at his words. “I think you’re just grieving for your pa, Buddy. It’s all right to wish he were still with us, but the truth is that he’ll never be back and we have to go on. We’ll have to take up the slack and work hard to make him proud of us, won’t we? And we won’t forget to pray that he’s in a better place now.”

The boy tore his piece of bread in half and offered it to his sister, who took it with a smile that seemed to be thanks enough for the lad.

The meal was simple, but the four people around the table ate it with relish and then sat back while Glory prepared the strawberry dessert.

“Sure looks good, ma’am,” Cade said with a grin.

“Glory cooks good for us,” Essie told him, sucking a berry from her spoon, earning a quick look from Glory. “I think I kinda remember the day she came here, but I was pretty small back then.”

“Well, I’ll never forget that day,” Buddy told them. “She was sure pretty, and she washed Essie’s hair and made her a braid and tied a red ribbon on it.”

“I do remember that, after all,” Essie said with a quick smile at her stepmother. “I’d forgotten the braid and the ribbon.”

“I’d say you two have more good memories of Glory than you could ever count. Your pa sure was lucky to have her here with you.”

“He married her so she could be our stepmother,” Buddy said.

Glory looked at Cade squarely. “It was more to make certain that I would inherit and have this place should anything happen to him, I believe.”

Cade nodded his agreement with her words and dug into his dessert. “The children were right. This is delicious, Miss Glory. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate a home-cooked meal. I’ve been riding from town to town, kinda on a quest for a place that would appeal to me and hoping I’d feel a sign of sorts when I saw a spot that would be right for me. But I’ll tell you true, any man would want to sit at this table once he’d had a sample of your cooking, Miss Glory.”

Glory smiled at him, her gaze assessing. He was a man to be admired, for according to the papers he’d given her to review, he was not only honest and forthright, but had a fund of money available should she want to sell any portion of her farm to him. But if she was to be proven wrong, if this Cade McAllister was not all that he seemed to be, she could be making a big mistake. But then again, if she was right, if the sheriff was correct in his thinking, then Cade might be the salvation she sought, for she was weary of carrying this load alone. He might prove to be a mentor for Buddy, an older brother for Essie, perhaps a friend for herself. Maybe even a man to look out for her and the children on a permanent basis. A man who would be willing to take on the work here and make a success of Buddy’s inheritance. Who might consider being a partner in the farm.

Cade helped clear up the table, then watched as she and Essie made short work of the dishwashing. Glory wiped up the table and hung the dish towels on the short line on the back porch, then shook the rug that lay by the back door. Essie put it back in place, a final chore that seemed to end the evening’s ritual.

Cade stood and stretched, then pushed his chair back under the table. “I’ll be heading for the barn, ma’am,” he said. “I’ll put my bedroll up in the loft if there’s enough hay left up there.”

“Enough for a man to sleep on,” Glory assured him, watching as he made his way across the yard to the barn. Their usual bedtime came at dusk and tonight was no different, for the children were weary from a long day, and even Glory sought her bed as soon as darkness enveloped the farmhouse. She settled into the feather tick and closed her eyes, but found that sleep eluded her. The man in her barn appeared before her as if he were there in her bedroom, a vision she beheld as she thought of what might be in her future. It would surely be a blessing to have a man to do the chores and work the fields. After turning from one side of the bed to the other, the bedclothes tangling about her body, she rose to find her dressing gown. Tying it firmly at her waist, she slid into her house shoes, then descended the stairs and went out the back door, seeking the silence of the night and the familiar sight of the fruit trees in the orchard.

As she had in the past, she walked among the trees, admiring the blossoms that filled the air with a faint scent. She lifted her eyes to the sky, seeking some bit of wisdom perhaps in the stars that pierced the darkness. Change hovered in the air that surrounded her, and she stood as still as a statue, her gaze upward, thoughts of Cade McAllister filling her mind again. There was about him a sheen of honesty, and she was drawn to him, her body almost seeking out the warmth of his whenever she was near him.

The future loomed before her and she was fearful of what it held, for she was mighty tempted to accept the offer of the man who lay in her hayloft. It was a given that keeping the farm intact for Buddy to inherit one day involved seeking help. Perhaps Cade could be persuaded to work as a partner. She turned from her stargazing and headed back toward the house, hoping she would find Cade agreeable in the morning.

The barn was warm with the body heat given off by the animals, and in the hayloft Cade rolled up in a quilt and found a lush bed beneath the eaves. From below, the cow lowed contentedly, the horses nickering to each other from neighboring stalls. From the house, he heard the closing of the back door, and he quickly rolled to his feet and went to where the door swung easily open over the front of the barn.

Below him, in the moonlight, Glory walked toward the garden, and then beyond that to where a half dozen fruit trees bloomed. Her hair hung long against her back, freed now from the dark braid she’d confined it in during the day. It rippled in the moonlight, a cloud that reached her hips and swung with each step she took.

He watched her for perhaps a half hour, until she turned finally from her stargazing and pondering and made her way back past the fruit trees and through the garden to the back porch. As she turned toward the house, she looked at the barn, her gaze moving across its door, up to the roof and finally to the window in the loft where he stood, watching her.

“Mrs. Clark, wait up a minute. We need to talk.” His voice was pitched low, but it apparently carried to where she stood, for she nodded, sliding her hands into the pockets of her dressing gown as she turned to sit on the edge of the porch, waiting silently.

He climbed down from the loft and approached across the yard to stand before her. Glory touched the porch beside her, a silent invitation for Cade to settle there. He sighed as he took a seat next to her, then cleared his throat.

“Glory, I hesitate to bring this up, but I’m gonna be blunt. I’ve heard the whole story from the sheriff, about Mr. Clark being in jail and sentenced to death. I know about the hanging in Green River and him leaving you with two children to raise on your own. The sheriff said you were married to the man a couple of years back when you were looking for a place to live and he needed someone to tend his house and family.”

“That’s all true, Cade. I was looking for a place to stay and he took me in.”

“And now the positions are reversed, Glory, for I’m the one looking and you’ve given me a place in your hayloft to sleep for the night. Sound kinda familiar to you?”

She looked up at him for a long moment and then with a curt nod, agreed. “I can see what you mean, but I don’t understand why you’ve chosen to settle in this area. What reason do you have for wanting to work a farm here in the middle of nowhere?”

He looked down at her, admiring the vision of loveliness before him. “I’ve been looking for a long spell for a place to settle. My family’s in Oklahoma and I could go back there and find some land and live close to home, but there’s something about Green River that appeals to me. I spoke to the sheriff about the available places hereabouts and he said yours was the best of the lot, but that you weren’t interested in selling. But he did say that your place was needful of a man to work it, and you and the children were having a tough time keeping things going. I asked him to bring me out here to meet you, and maybe come to an agreement with you. This farm sounded like the sort of place I was looking for. Two hundred acres, a sturdy barn, a house that’s been tended over the years and only needs a coat of paint to bring it up to snuff. A woman and two children who’d benefit from a man around the place to keep an eye on things and keep them safe.”

“Sounds like you’ve got everything all sorted out, mister,” Glory said sharply. “You sound like you’re ready to settle in and be a part of the picture.”

“I’d like to at least talk about it with you, Glory. You’re a woman alone, and I’m a man looking to invest in a farm. I surely do admire you and respect you for the job you’ve done here. I don’t expect you’ve looked at me and seen enough to warrant inviting me to stay for a spell but I think we might be able to make a go of it, and hold this place together. Make it into a prosperous holding for Buddy to inherit. I like a challenge, Glory, and this farm seems to be offering just such a challenge to me. I’m not trying to push you into making a decision right this minute, but I’m willing to give it a chance to work out. Should you take me up on my offer to invest here and help you make a success of the place, we’d have to present a united front. Between us, we’d be supplying a good home in which to raise these two young’uns you’ve been caring for. They deserve a family surrounding them, and you and I could give them that very thing.”

Glory looked shocked by his words. “If you’re talking about marriage, I’ll tell you right now, I’m not ready for that, Cade. I know these children need a father figure in their lives, but for now, we’re doing all right on our own. The question is, would a marriage be the best thing for them? Or for me? Might not a partnership work better?”

“Look. Glory, since you’re not willing to sell your place outright, might you agree to me investing my money here and become half owner of the farm? I’ll work hard in the fields and teach Buddy how to handle horses and give him a chance to become a horse trainer himself if he’d like to learn the trade.”

“The children and I are used to working hard, Mr. McAllister. I’ve carried my share of the load over the years and done whatever I had to in order to provide for Buddy and Essie.”

“You earned your way here, if I see things straight, ma’am. You’re an intelligent woman, for you’ve had schooling beyond the ordinary, I’d say, from your speech and the ability you have to express yourself.”

She nodded. “I went to college back home for two years. In fact, I have enough schooling to teach, should I ever want to. For now, just doing lessons with Buddy and Essie is satisfying enough for me.”

Cade thought again of the man whose death had brought him here. “I can’t help but think that Mr. Clark would be pleased to have me here, ma’am. He thought enough of you to marry you and leave you with this place. I’d say you both gained from your bargain. What I don’t understand is why no one from town stepped up to offer for you after your husband died.”

Glory pressed her lips together as if thinking of her reply. And then she sighed. “When the sheriff took Harvey in to jail, the story made its way around that he was a bank robber, and I had a couple of the hired hands from ranches west of here stop by and offer to look for the money Harvey was accused of stealing. I sent them off without much of an answer, just the shotgun in my hands. I don’t know if Mr. Clark did what he was accused of doing or not. But I don’t think there’s any money around here, for it seems that in three years I’d have found some trace of the gold he was supposed to have stolen somewhere around this house. And he sure didn’t seem to have any extra to spend. He was a thrifty man, but he took care of his own.”

She looked up at him then, and her words were a warning. “If you’ve got any ideas about gold here, mister, I’ll tell you right now, there won’t be any digging around or searching my house for a treasure. The only thing worth having in this place is those two young’uns upstairs in bed. I don’t believe that Mr. Clark left anything more precious than that. He’d have told me otherwise.”

Cade nodded thoughtfully, preparing the lie he was about to speak. “That may very well be, ma’am. At any rate, I’m not looking to find any gold. I don’t consider it important enough to be digging holes or searching through your attic in the hopes of finding a treasure. I’m looking for a place to work and make my way and maybe make something of what I’ve been offered.”

Cade cleared his throat, considering the lie he’d just spoken so readily. He’d traveled the country in his job, for being a Pinkerton man paid well and he’d never come out empty handed at the end of a quest. Still, he felt guilty for lying to Glory.

He eyed the woman before him and knew that his plan was more tempting than it might have been had Glory Clark not been so lovely a woman, had she not appealed to him so much. Offering her the story he’d halfway conceived in his mind, he began, knowing he would be living a lie with every breath he took.

He doffed his hat, and his gaze on her face was hopeful. “I’m thinking if you marry me, we could kinda work things out for everyone’s benefit, ma’am. I never planned on this sort of thing, And if it’s any comfort to you, I’ll make a vow to you that I won’t be looking for gold while I’m here. I’ll be too busy with working and fixing things up the way Mr. Clark would have wanted it.

“I’m changing topics here, ma’am, but I think it’s important to settle one thing. Did anyone ever come looking for your husband? Maybe strangers who might have known him from the past? It seems like he’d have been the object of a search of sorts over the years.”

“Not that I know of,” Glory said slowly, her thoughts scanning the years past, seeking answers to his questions. “We lived from one day to the next, not a lot of money to do with, but enough to get along. He didn’t seem to have any secrets that I could tell. But he did seem to keep a good eye out, making sure no one was around that didn’t belong in the area.”

“Well, keep thinking about it, Glory. You may remember something that seemed unimportant at the time. And in the meantime, consider my plans for our future.

“My father died when I was but a child, about Buddy’s age—ten, I think—and left my mother with a place to keep up and bills to pay and no cash coming in.”

“I’d say that sounds familiar,” Glory said softly.

“Yeah, well, it’s what happened, and we were left in a tough spot. There was a neighbor man, a widower, who came by a few days after the funeral and spoke with my mother, told her he was willing to take on the job of husband and father if she was agreeable to it. To make a long story short, she took him at his word, and he became my stepfather. He didn’t adopt me—my name is the same as my natural father’s, but in every way that counted he was our dad, me and my brothers’. He raised us, took care of my mother and ran the farm for her. I don’t know if he loved her to begin with—probably not—but he saw a need and knew he could fill it. So he did. He made a success out of the place, made good money, and best of all, they were happy together.”

“And did you see the same sort of need here?” she asked, studying the ground beneath her feet.

“Yeah, you could say that, I suppose. I could almost hear my dad speaking in my ear. Telling me this was my chance to show my gratitude for what he’d done for my family all those long years ago. I won’t tell you any tall tales, or make up a glowing picture of our future together. But I will tell you I’ll be faithful and honest and do my best to help you and the children, just the way Harvey Clark would have wanted.”

Glory looked up at him, admiring his height, the broad shoulders that pulled his shirt tight over his chest. He was a good-looking man, surely a man most women would admire, and she was no exception. But she needed to be sure that he was on the up-and-up before she made any drastic decisions.

“I’m not sure I want to be an object of charity, Cade, but I suspect I can see better why you’re doing this. It made me wonder about you, why a man would take on a family and be responsible for two children the way you’ve said you would.”

He grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll admit that the idea of having a place of my own appeals to me. This is your farm, but if I stay here, it won’t be just as a hired hand. There’s the matter of marriage to be settled, Glory. It won’t work any other way.”

He lifted his hand to her face, tilting her chin up so that she met his gaze. His voice softened as he spoke. “I will tell you that you’re a woman who’d appeal to any man with eyes in his head. I don’t understand why half a dozen men haven’t asked you to marry them.” And then he hesitated.

“The town will no doubt look askance at me being here, living with you and the children, without a wedding taking place. I’ll not cause you to fret about that part of it tonight, but we need to be making a decision right quick.”

“I’ll think about it, Cade. In fact, I probably won’t be thinking of much else.” With but a moment of hesitation, Glory slid from her seat on the edge of the porch, and then climbed the steps and went into the house.

The man took her breath. He made her tremble deep inside where her heart dwelt.

She made her way in the dark, through the kitchen and up the stairs, to where her bedroom was tucked beneath the eaves. She’d slept alone there for three years, dependent upon Harvey Clark for a place to live. He’d been good to her, and though he’d probably made mistakes aplenty in his life, he hadn’t caused her any grief. He’d only done as he’d promised. She tossed her dressing gown over a chair and crawled into bed, clad in her long white nightgown. There to sleep fitfully, her dreams filled with visions of the man who slept in the barn. A man who tempted her as had no other.

Chapter Three

Cade walked slowly back to the barn, his thoughts filled with the prospects he might find here. Glory was the first woman he’d thought about with an eye to the future. But first, he’d have to find the gold he was certain was hidden somewhere in the house, and which he’d been contracted to find. But then … then he’d concentrate on Glory. The thought of marriage with the woman was more than appealing. Perhaps it was time to settle down, once this job was finished.

He climbed the ladder to the loft and sank down into the pile of hay where he’d tossed his bedroll. Settling in, he allowed sleep to overcome him, his body weary from a long day’s labor.

Daybreak was announced by the rooster in the chicken coop and Cade awoke, refreshed and ready to look over his surroundings. The barn showed the hand of a good carpenter in its construction, the joists joined properly, the roof intact, the floor solid beneath him. He folded his bedroll, climbed down the ladder and opened the back door of the barn, looking out to where fields stretched almost to the horizon. Those near at hand were lush with grass, pastureland any farmer would hold dear.

Beyond the pasture, a field of hay gleamed in the sunshine, ready for cutting, a crop that would more than fill the hayloft where he’d slept. Harvey Clark had owned a farm worth having. The sheriff had said it comprised two hundred acres, and should the rest of his land show the promise that lay before Cade now, it was a dream come true for the roamer who surveyed it this morning.

Should the woman marry him, he would be the owner of a fine piece of land. The future took on a new look for the man who gazed out upon waving grasses and sunlit fields of hay. It seemed the trail he’d followed for the past few years had finally come to a halt at the end of the rainbow. He’d worked and saved his wages and been a success as a Pinkerton man.

The promise of a good reward for the gold he sought was worth working for. He’d worked long years as a Pinkerton man and it was time to settle down and seek a future. A future that beckoned him and promised ample reward for the hard work he was willing to put into it. If things worked out as he hoped, his career as a Pinkerton man would be at an end and he would spend his life as a married man should Glory be agreeable. At that thought he grinned, for if Glory went along with his plans, she would be a prize worth having.

He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the sight of her, dark hair a cloud about her as she walked in the orchard. The woman appealed to him in a mighty way, and he vowed to himself that he’d be in her bed within a week or so.

He heard the sound of Buddy’s voice outside the barn, and the big door slid open, revealing him to Cade’s sight. The boy headed for the first stall where the cow awaited his attention, and speaking softly, he soothed the animal, “Don’t be scared, Daisy. It’s just me, comin’ to milk you and give you some hay.”

“And I’ll probably feed the chickens,” Cade muttered beneath his breath as he walked from the back door of the barn to where the boy had begun his task.

“Morning, sir,” Buddy said looking up with a quick grin, his dark hair still tousled from his pillow.

Cade’s index finger rose to touch his hat brim. “Your stepmother fixing breakfast?” he asked.

“Yeah, Glory cooks real good, mister. My pa always said that her staying with us and taking care of us was the best thing that ever happened in our family. ’Course, the baddest thing was when my mama died.”

“Was that a long time ago, Buddy?”

“Yeah, I was pretty little then, and Essie was just walking good. She was a bitty little thing, with her long yellow hair and big blue eyes. And then it seemed like a long time before Glory came to the door and she needed a place to live and my pa said she could stay with us if she married him.”

Cade felt the hair on his nape quiver. “Your pa wanted to marry Glory?” he asked mildly, even as he felt like balling his fists at the thought.

“He told Glory when she came to stay that she couldn’t live in the house with us without them being married. He said it wouldn’t look right.”

“So they got married?” Cade kept his tone mild, silently urging the boy to continue.

Buddy obliged as if he enjoyed Cade’s company. “Yeah, but it didn’t make a lot of difference to my pa. Just meant that Glory took care of us and did the cooking and stuff and taught me my letters on account of school is so far away in town. But she told me I could go to ‘real’ school after the harvest this year if we could afford a horse for me to ride back and forth. But that was before all the trouble with Pa, and now I don’t know if I’ll still be able to go. There’s gonna be lots of work to do and Glory can’t do all of it by herself.”

“Can you read pretty good, Buddy? Do you have books?” Cade wondered privately just how accomplished a teacher Glory was, though two years in college would have given her a pretty good education. But Buddy left him in no doubt as to her prowess.

“Of course I can read,” he said stoutly. “Glory got books from the real teacher in town and I can read all the way through the hardest one she’s got. I know my numbers and I can multiply and everything. That guzinta stuff is hard, but I’m working at it.”

“Guzinta stuff?” Cade searched his mind for what the boy spoke of but Buddy enlightened him promptly.

“Yeah, you know. Like four guzinta eight two times.”

“Oh.” A smile fought to appear on Cade’s face, but he resisted it manfully. There was no way on God’s green earth he would make the boy think he made sport of him. Still, the description of division struck his funny bone and he had to turn away lest he insult the lad.

Buddy propped the pail between his knees and reached for the cow’s udders. “Reckon I’d better get busy with the milking. Glory was mixing biscuits when I left the house and she said she’d make rice pudding today ‘cause we got lots of extra milk. And then I gotta put the horses out to graze.” He muttered the last words, listing his chores and Glory’s activities in a muddled rush. One Cade surprisingly found no difficulty in following.

The cow’s tail swished, causing Buddy to duck, and he cautioned the animal with a stern word, causing Cade to laugh aloud as he made an offer of help to the boy.

“Tell you what, Buddy. I’ll go stake the horses in the field out back and then gather the eggs and feed the chickens while you milk. That way, we’ll be done about the same time and we can go eat that breakfast your stepmother is putting together.”

“Would you really, sir?” Buddy’s grin was wide as he heard the offer of help, and he hastened to settle down to his chore.

Cade led the four horses out to the knee-high grass behind the corral and pounded stakes he’d found by the back door into the ground. They settled down to graze and he returned to the barn, brushing a quick hand over Buddy’s hair as he passed by on his way toward the door and the path to the chicken coop.

The hens were hungry, and when he rattled the feed pan they deserted their nests and made their way with haste to the fenced-in yard. Cade spread the grain with a generous hand and gathered the eggs without event. He made his way to the house, egg pan in hand, and called out from the porch.

“Glory? I’ve got the eggs and I spread chicken feed for the hens. Buddy is about done with the milking and he said he’s ready for breakfast.” He opened the screen door and entered the kitchen. “He told me you’re a good cook and I’m willing to sample whatever you’ve made for us this morning.”

Glory grinned, her blue eyes flashing as she shot him a quick look. “Well, come on in, Cade McAllister. Put the eggs in the pantry and wash up at the sink.”

“You know, a good crop of hay, two perhaps, would ready this place for the winter, with plenty of feed for the animals. The corn is coming up well, and with some diligent hoeing and hilling, we could have a good crop for the corn crib,” Cade said as he found his seat at the table.

“You’ve obviously learned how to garden well, Glory,” Cade said. “Your patch near the house is certainly thriving. Hardly a weed to be seen,” he said with a grin.

“I put in a good garden, Cade. And we’ll put most everything into Mason jars for the winter. There’s tomatoes and potatoes and carrots and all the rest. I planted corn and beans and onions and between Essie and me, we’ll fill the pantry with enough to do us for the winter.”

“I’ve spoken of marriage, Glory. The choice is up to you, but I’ll admit I’m more than ready to move in and take care of the hay and all the rest before winter.” His eyes were intent on her as he spoke. Even without considering the gold he’d contracted with the Pinkertons to find here, Glory was more than worth an offer of marriage. Things were looking up, Cade decided. It might take some time to woo Glory into a wedding, but he had a whole heap of that to spare.

“We having scrambled eggs to go along with that this morning?” he asked, peering over her shoulder as she stirred a pan of sausage gravy.

“I’ll put them in the other skillet in just a few minutes, soon as the gravy is ready to put on the back burner,” she answered. She glanced at him, a sharp look that gauged his mood and put him in his place. “Don’t sneak up behind me, Mr. McAllister. I don’t like surprises.”

His grin was unrepentant, she noted, but his words made a stab at sincerity. “Yes, ma’am. I’m sure sorry. I’ll make more noise next time I look over your shoulder.”

She turned from the stove, the big spoon held before her, sausage gravy dripping from its bowl, and his long index finger was quick, catching the tasty drop before it could splash on the floor, and instead sliding it between his lips.

Buddy had followed him into the house, bearing a heavy bucket of milk. “This here’s last night’s milk, Glory. I’ll put it in the pantry. I covered it good last night with a clean towel before I put it in the springhouse.” He stowed the pail under a shelf, out of the way from straying feet, and returned to the kitchen, his eyes swerving directly to Cade.

“Like I was tellin’ you out in the barn, Mr. McAllister, if I go to real school after the harvest and the last of the hay is cut, Glory says I should do good. She thinks I’m right smart.”

“I wouldn’t doubt that one little bit,” Cade said agreeably. “While I’m thinking about it, son, I’d think you could call me Cade. My pa was Mr. McAllister and I ain’t got used to the name yet. Been Cade all my life.”

“Yessir, I can sure do that … can’t I, Glory?” he asked when he caught a stray glance from his stepmother, who’d turned back to the skillets on the range. “If he says I can call him Cade, it’s all right, ain’t it? Makes him seem sorta like a friend, don’t it?”

Glory nodded as she turned from the stove where she’d poured the bowl of beaten eggs into an iron skillet and faced the two males at her table. Buddy was grinning, and Cade looked right comfortable where he sat, watching the breakfast she cooked. “I’m thinking we’ll eat better if there’s plates under these eggs and gravy,” she said sharply. “Would you see to it, Mr. McAllister?”

“Yes, ma’am, I surely will,” he said as he stood and approached the dresser where he’d seen Essie finding dishes and silverware. Four plates and a like number of knives and forks appeared on the table in moments, and he stood behind his chair, waiting.

“Anything else I can do to help, ma’am?” And then, more softly, he said, “I’d like to talk to you after breakfast about what we discussed last night.”

“I thought you’d already made up your mind,” Glory told him, pouring the sausage gravy into a bowl, then scooping the eggs into another. She placed them on the table, then reached into the warming oven atop the range to pull out a pan of biscuits she’d stored there. In moments, she’d filled the glasses with milk, poured a cup of coffee and put it in front of Cade, and called out for Essie to come to the table.

The girl appeared from the direction of the hallway, a braid hanging ragtag down her back and a look of chagrin on her face. “I can’t do my braid the way you make it, Glory. I tried three times already and it don’t look right no matter what I do to it.”

“Sit down and eat, Essie. I’ll braid it up for you after breakfast. It just takes a bit more practice. You’ll catch on.”

The food smelled tasty, Cade decided, the eggs and gravy steaming in their bowls, the biscuits crusty on the outside, and when he broke one open the inside was light and looked to be tender.

“Mr. McAllister …”

He glanced at her. “Ma’am?” He looked askance, then noted the folded hands the children held before themselves, and bowed his head, holding his own palms together as he’d been silently directed.

Glory spoke a short prayer of blessing on the food and the family; her words were sincere, obviously used often. It was plain she was not displaying company manners, only performing a ritual common to this table.

After the children had chimed in on the “amen,” Cade spoke up. “After my pa died, my mama used to always pray before we ate, and then when my stepfather moved in, she said he should take his place in the house as man of the family and he always did it from then on.”

The children were silent, and Essie cast Cade a wondering glance, as if she sought out the truth of his position in this house. Glory simply smiled, her comment mild, but much what he would have expected of her.

“We’re always thankful for our meals, Mr. McAllister. I know we work hard growing much of the food, but we’re thankful for a place to put in a garden, and the rain that waters it for us, and a good well to take up the slack when the rain holds off too long. Sometimes we take turns saying a blessing. You’re welcome to take a turn if you like.”

The children grinned, and Essie kicked Buddy’s ankle and snickered behind her hand, as if imagining the big man across the table doing such a thing. They’d only done it themselves at first to please Glory, for Pa had said that she ran the kitchen, since she cooked the meals, and they must do as she said.

“I’ll take the job for supper at night, since I’m planning on being here—for a good while, anyway,” Cade said, tossing a look of satisfaction at Glory. He pushed his plate away, the surface of it almost as clean as it had been when it came fresh from the cupboard shelf. “Good breakfast, ma’am.”

“Thank you, sir. Now, if you’ll put the dirty dishes in the sink, I’ll take a few minutes to braid Essie’s hair for her.” The child moved to stand in front of Glory and in moments the braid was formed and Glory dropped a quick kiss on the smooth cheek as Essie whispered her thanks.

The child ran out the back door, calling for her brother as she went. Buddy left the table to run after Essie, and Glory’s eyes touched the man who had cleared the table in barely a minute. His eyebrow twitched and a grin tilted the corner of his lips as he returned her appraising look.

As if he could see within her, his gaze narrowed and his dark eyes glowed. She felt a twinge of uneasiness, wondering at his thoughts. And then he answered her unspoken question before it could be asked.

“We’ll work it out, you and me,” he said softly, his eyes warm on her face.

“I told you, Mr. McAllister, I don’t know if I’m ready for what you want.”

“Well, the first thing you might do to prepare yourself is forget the Mr. McAllister thing and remember that my name is Cade. After all, I’m the lucky man you’re going to be living with, one way or another.”

She looked up at him and her smile was quick, deepening the dimples that dented her cheeks. “You’ve got a slick way of putting things, McAllister, quite a line of blarney. It sounds to me like you’ve got things all arranged in your mind.”

He chuckled at her words. “Blarney, is it? You’re sounding like a colleen from the old country, Glory.”

She cast him a flirting glance. “I suspect I come by it honestly, Cade. My father came over on a boat from Ireland, met my mother in New York, who was fresh from England herself, and married her. I suppose I picked up a bit of his way of talking. I catch myself once in a while thinking in my mind, using his words.”

“I thought as much. There’s just a hint of Irish in your speech, not a lot, but enough to tease me as I listen. And your eyes are like the black Irish. They go with your dark hair.”

“My father was dark haired and blue eyed. I suppose I take after him, for my mother was fair.”

He hesitated for a moment and then pursued the point. “Would I be out of line if I asked about your parents? Are they still alive or have you lost them?”

“I know where they are, for all the good it does me. I helped bury them both along the trail near Wichita when a good many on the wagon train sickened with diptheria. So many died in those few days. When my mother sickened, she sent me to a neighboring wagon and I wasn’t allowed near my parents again. After they died, the wagon was burned and everything in it, and my parents were buried, along with a dozen or so others who didn’t make it.”

She spoke in a low voice, the words almost cold, as if she’d placed them so far back in her memory they were in a box named the past.

“You’re all alone in the world, then,” he asked quietly. “No brothers or sisters?”

“No, there was only ever me. Mama didn’t have any more babies. But I’m not alone in the world. I have Buddy and Essie. They’re my family. Harvey Clark gave them to me the day I moved into his house. They’re mine like a small sister and brother would be, almost my own kin.”

“You’ve done a fine job raising them, Glory. Buddy is a strong boy, seems honest and upright. And Essie is a real sweetheart.”

“She’s a good girl, is what she is. And Buddy will own this place when he’s grown and he’ll farm it like his daddy. And Essie will learn to wash clothes and tend to women’s work. Like scrubbing out a load of clothes before breakfast.”

She left the kitchen then, stepping off the porch, bypassing the farm wagon parked near the house, to where a wash basket sat beneath clotheslines.

She reached into the laundry basket and pulled out a pair of denim pants. Glory snapped them in the air and hung them by the back of the waist, leaving the wind room to blow the legs dry. Three more pair of trousers followed, two of Buddy’s and another worn pair, probably left from the children’s father. Several shirts followed them onto the line and then Glory lifted the empty basket and placed it on the porch.

She bent to pick up the long pole that would prop the line high, catching the rope between the two nails on top, then standing it upright to allow the breeze access to the clothes that began to billow at the wind’s bidding.

She looked up at the line, satisfied with her early morning’s work. Tomorrow she would strip the sheets from the beds. Or perhaps the next day, depending on the weather. If it should rain, she would bake bread and churn butter, sweep the parlor and tidy up the bedrooms a bit.

Being settled in a place she could call home was a fine thing, she’d decided three years ago when she’d first come here to live. No one kept an eye on what she did, so she’d done what she pleased, and Harvey Clark had kept his peace, satisfied with the clean house and well-cooked food on his table.

This Cade McAllister looked to be a different kettle of fish. And yet, she felt a bit warmed by his wanting to look out for her. She prided herself on her ability to tend to things on her own, but maybe it would be nice to have someone around who might seek her comfort once in a while. Harvey had been a good man, but they’d lived in two separate worlds, him in the fields and the outbuildings, her in the house and garden. He’d expected her to hold up her end of the bargain they’d struck that first day, and she had done her best.

Cade spoke then. “I was thinking, if there were a fence around the pasture, it would eliminate a lot of hassle, what with staking the animals,” he suggested.

“Harvey said he wanted to put up a fence, but he was saving up for it,” Glory answered, looking up from the table where she sat, writing sums, a schoolbook in hand.

“Maybe we could do it now, get the fencing from the lumberyard and enough posts to do the job.”

“I haven’t the money for it,” Glory said defensively.

“I have. And I don’t mind doing the work. It’ll be better in the long run if the animals are free to graze the whole pasture.”

“I’d rather you didn’t put a lot of money into the place until we decide …” Her voice trailed off as Glory looked beseechingly at Cade.

He smiled, a look of understanding etching his features. “We’ll talk later, then. And in the meantime, I’ll take a look at what’s out there.” She nodded her agreement.

Cade left the kitchen, stepping down from the porch, ducking to avoid the clothesline as he headed for the barn. In mere moments he’d gone out the back door and come back into view, walking along the fence line of the corral, a hammer hanging from his belt, a sack of what looked to be nails in his hand. He was checking out the wire to see if it was loosened anywhere, she suspected. One look at Cade McAllister and she’d have sworn he wasn’t a farmer, yet there he was out walking the fence line and tending to the stock.

And she was lollygagging around paying mind to him instead of the work that awaited her in the house. She put away the schoolwork she was planning for Essie later on, folding the paper neatly and setting it aside.

She carried her empty basket to the clothesline, her mind busy with thinking of the dinner she was expected to have on the table at noontime. Taking the clothes from the line, she folded them loosely as she went, shaking out wrinkles and smoothing the fabric as she bent over the basket. A bit of care now made the ironing easier, she’d found. And the overalls would do as they were, only the shirts needing the touch of an iron.

The children were waiting for her, their chairs pulled up to the kitchen table, their books and papers neatly sorted. Essie was busy writing on her chalkboard. Buddy’s nose was in a book, for he craved reading.

“I wrote a page of numbers for you to work on, Essie,” she told the girl.

Essie grinned up at her. “I’m about done with them already,” the child answered, finishing up a number nine with a flourish. “I added those you wrote down and did a whole line of take-aways on the bottom, just like you said I should yesterday.”

Glory had a habit of writing out Essie’s numbers to be added and subtracted every day right after breakfast and left them for Essie to work on. Now she bent over the table to check the little girl’s adding and subtracting.

“You did it just right, Essie. I’m proud of you. I’ll have to give you harder ones tomorrow. You’re almost as good as your brother.”

Buddy shot a conspirator’s look at Glory, obviously secure in his advanced knowledge and willing to concede a bit to his little sister. “This here is a good book, Glory. It’s about the country of France and the people rebelling.”

“Is it one the teacher sent?” she asked

“Yes, ma’am. It’s called A Tale of Two Cities. A man named Charles Dickens wrote it.”

“I’m proud of you, Buddy. You’ll be more than caught up with the rest of the children your age when you go to school in town after the harvest. You read as well as I do already. After you finish that book I want you to write a report on it for me.”

His forehead wrinkled. “What sort of report, Glory?”

“We’ll call it a book report. You can decide what you’ve learned from the story and what it meant to you. You’ll have to name the main people in it and tell what happened to them. It’ll help you get ready for writing such things in school. And it’ll be something for us to show the teacher when you start your first day. Kinda let her see what you can do, so she’ll know which grade to put you in.”

He seemed to be agreeable to the idea and turned a page in his book, in moments deeply involved once more in the story he’d been reading. Glory watched for a moment, pride alive in her heart for what this boy had accomplished, satisfaction filling her depths because she had had a part in bringing him to this point. And sadness that she had done all it was possible for her to do for him. He needed schooling, more than she could give him, no matter how hard she tried.

And now, with the presence of Cade McAllister in their lives, perhaps she could find the way to do right by the boy.

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