"You wanta come up and see, Miss Johanna?" Precariously, he leaned farther out the square hole in the side of the barn, and she drew in a quick breath.
"Tate?"
"Yeah, he'll be all right, Jo." Raising one hand, Tate motioned the child away from the opening. "Back off, Timmy. You'll break your neck if you fall from there, and I'm too busy today to take you to town to the doctor."
"Oh, Pa! You're foolin' me," the boy chortled, scooting back readily at his father's bidding.
"Come on down, now," Tate told him firmly. "You can ride the wagon and help Johanna drive the team."
"Why can't I drive?" From behind them, Pete's voice was querulous.
His father turned and motioned to the boy. "Come here, Pete." One hand rubbed at the youngster's hair, smoothing it down where the wind had ruffled it. "I need you to keep the load even while I pitch the hay up to you. Can you do that?"
"I seen you doing it last summer," the boy said. "I'm big enough this year."
"You're growin' like a bad weed, son," Tate told him, his arm sliding down to grip the narrow shoulders. "It won't be long before you'll be able to pitch hay like a man."
The boy's eyes glowed at the words, and he sidled closer to his father. "Timmy's too little to help, isn't he?"
"No, I'm not," the smaller boy spouted, rounding the corner full tilt. "Pa said I can help drive the team." Attempting to clamber up the side of the wagon, he glanced back over his shoulder at Johanna. "Just wait till you see those babies. They're all squinty-eyed and runty-lookin'."
Tate reached to hoist his youngest son onto the wagon seat. "What color are they, son?"
"One's all different colors. The other two are black, mostly." Timmy bounced on the seat, his feet dangling. "Are we gonna keep 'em all? Aunt Bessie says one cat's enough to have around, doesn't she, Pa? But I'll bet we got enough room for more than one in the barn. It's a lot bigger than Aunt Bessie's shed."
"Yeah, but Aunt Bessie has a dog, too," Pete volunteered.
Johanna thought of the pleasure the two children had gained from Sheba over the past weeks. "You have a dog," she offered.
"She's yours, Miss Johanna. Pa said so." Pete's words were as sour as his expression.
Johanna shrugged. "She still manages to do her job, doesn't she, Tate?"
His grin when he heard the softening her words implied was welcome. "She's still a good herd dog, Jo, even though the boys have spoiled her a little." Tate tossed the pitchfork on the bed of the wagon and offered Johanna his hand as he helped her climb to the seat.
The wagon jostled over the ruts, the horses straining to pull it from the wet ground behind the barn. Soon it was free. Settling into a trot, the matched pair followed the lead of the woman holding the reins and the wagon turned toward the hayfield.
"It's going to be a late dinner, I'm afraid," Johanna said, slicing side pork with swift slashes of her butcher knife.
"That's all right We'll all pitch in and help, seeing as how you spent your morning out in the field with us. What do you say, boys?" Tate's color was high, ruddy from the wind and the sun combined. He walked silently across the kitchen floor, his boots left outside the door. From behind her, Johanna felt his presence, even as he spoke in her ear.
"Can we have some eggs with that pork, ma'am? The ones from this morning are all wiped clean."
"I ought to use the older ones first," Johanna said, casting him a look over her shoulder.
"Let's have the fresh ones, Jo. I'll take the others to town to Mr. Turner. He won't know the difference, and wouldn't care if he did. He'll be tickled just to get your eggs. He told me he never gets an old egg from your basket. They're guaranteed fresh every time."
Subduing the flush of pride she felt at his words of praise, she stepped away from him, reaching to take down the smaller skillet from its hook. She'd not been able to think of much else since last night, other than the man behind her, no matter how hard she tried to erase him from her thoughts. He just kept creeping back, insinuating himself into her every breathing moment. She clamped her lips together, shaking her head against the memory.
"You going to use that skillet, or bash me in the head with it?"
Startled, she whirled and caught a glimpse of him ducking the pan she held. It fell from her nerveless fingers, and she covered her mouth with the other hand. "Oh, my word! Tate Montgomery! You almost made me-" She halted abruptly as he swooped to pick up the skillet, his laughter in her ears.
"You need to keep your mind on your business, ma'am. We almost had eggs all over the floor."
She'd come within inches of catching the blue speckled bowl with the edge of her skillet. The knowledge that he'd so easily managed to upset her concentration set her teeth on edge.
"Just move out of my way while I'm cooking." Her command was firm, and he bowed to her authority.
"You're the boss here, Johanna. I'll just sit myself down over here and keep an eye on things while you get my dinner on the table."
She watched as he made his way on stocking feet to the chair at the head of her table. The place he deserved as head of the house. She thought how different he was from the man who'd last held that title.
Never could she remember her father passing out compliments or taking hold of things the way Tate Montgomery was doing. Or making cheerful small talk at meals. Or treating his child as a person worthy of love.
The eggs fried up quickly as soon as the side pork was finished. The pan of biscuits came out brown and broke apart fluffy, just the way her mother had taught her to make them. A bowl of fresh applesauce appeared from the pantry, and dinner was ready.
Timmy was glowing as he reported on the new kittens. Pete almost failed to hide his smile of satisfaction as Johanna complimented him on his work on the hay wagon. And Tate Montgomery sounded truly appreciative as he thanked his Maker for holding off on the storm until the hay was in the barn. In fact, so earnest was his gratitude, he almost forgot to mention the food he was supposed to be praying over, which resulted in a storm of laughter from the members of his family.
Deep inside, Tate Montgomery felt an explosion of warmth, spreading to encompass his whole being. Life was good indeed. No wonder he felt as if the sun were shining, even though the sound of rain was even now to be heard on the tin roof over the porch. His heart lifted as he caught Johanna's eye, again seeking the approval she had given him more often of late with her sidelong glances.
Yessir, things were looking up.
A shiny black buggy parked next to the house was her first warning of company as Johanna left the springhouse a few days later, carrying her basket of butter. On the buggy's seat, Marjorie Jones perched, one foot over the side as she reached for the step.
"Yoo-hoo, Johanna!" she warbled, attending to her footing.
"I'm out here," Johanna called, stepping briskly toward the buggy. "Is something wrong, Mrs. Jones?"
Marjorie's laughter was hearty. "My word, no," she said brightly. "Can't a body come calling without a reason, Johanna? I just thought it was time to visit."
Since the lady had not done so in more years than Johanna could count, the theory had some holes in it, but she shrugged off that thought as she climbed the steps to the porch. "Come on in, won't you? I'll fix a cup of tea for us."
The kitchen was warm, the scent of dinner on the stove an inviting one. Marjorie settled on a kitchen chair, having refused the parlor in favor of the warmth to be found here.
"I declare, Johanna. It's been hard to imagine you as having a ready-made family these days," Marjorie warbled. "I was just saying the other day to Esther how glad I was for you, after you were so brokenhearted over that Brittles boy. Land sakes, that was a long time ago, wasn't it?"
Johanna brought the teapot to the table, placing it on the hot pad. "Ages ago. I'd almost forgotten him."
Marjorie darted a disbelieving look in her direction. "Really? I'd thought you were quite taken with him. Planning a wedding, weren't you?"
Johanna shrugged, her eyes intent on the spoon she held. Measuring a scant teaspoon of sugar, she stirred it into her tea. "We'd talked of it, but I was awfully young. Besides, my father needed me here."