“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