Part 3 (1/2)

”Not at all.” He picked up the Bible and held it out to her. ”Why don't you choose what you'd like? Tucker, you can read it to us.”

She relished the weight of the whole Bible. How could something that felt so heavy make her heart feel so light?

”What would you like, Sis?”

A psalm? A pa.s.sage of Exodus where the children of G.o.d were in the wilderness? Job, who suffered the unthinkable and turned to praise G.o.d? The choice overwhelmed her. ”Anything. Anything at all.”

Tucker let out a low, long rumble of laughter.

In that moment, Meredith knew she'd never forget this moment or the neighbor G.o.d sent to make it happen. Mr. Rafferty hadn't brought bread alone. He'd brought the Word of G.o.d, and he'd done the impossible. He'd broken a year and a half 's bleakness by making her brother laugh.

Chapter 4.

Ian squatted by the fire and moved the speckled enamelware coffeepot. The brew would feel good going down after the cold night. Odd, how yesterday had been so bitterly cold, yet a warm wind replaced the frigid gusts today. All around him, patches of snow melted away, and the river widened as the frozen edges thawed.

Through the night and even now, Ian kept the fire low-just enough to keep a nice, steady stream of blue smoke wending up to the fish.

The cabin door opened. ”Good morning!” Miss Smith sounded as cheery as a lark.

”Morning.” Her brother sounded downright surly.

”Top o' the mornin' to you both.” Ian grinned. He'd grown up with his father saying that phrase, and somehow it seemed right to use it now, himself.

Tucker's eyes widened. ”Is that coffee?”

”It is. You declared there'd be no coffee last night. I didn't want to make a liar of you, so I waited 'til this morning to brew a pot. It should be ready any minute now. Go get your mugs.”

”You're not obliged to share,” Miss Smith murmured.

”I'm happy to.”

Tucker cleared his throat. ”I'm a proud man. I'm glad you offered, because I might have sunk to begging for a sip if you hadn't.”

Ian finally stood. ”If my sister were here, you might have to do just that. Fiona's been known to drink an entire pot of coffee all on her own before breakfast ever reached the table.”

”Smart gal.” Tucker nodded his approval.

”You don't know just how smart she is.” Ian stretched out the words with relish. ”Whilst I gathered my supplies, she insisted upon me bringing another can of Arbuckle's. Said it would keep me warm in the dead of winter.”

”Arbuckle's,” Tucker groaned.

”His favorite.” Miss Smith laughed. ”I'll go fetch the mugs.”

”Bowls and spoons, too,” Ian called out to her. ”I'm not much of a cook, but oatmeal doesn't take much attention.”

While she disappeared into the cabin, Tucker s.h.i.+fted his weight and studied the toes of his boots. ”We're not in a position to return your-”

”Seasoned. That's what they called it.” Ian squatted, stirred the oatmeal, and repeated, ”Seasoned. When the colonists first came to the New World, someone who made it a whole year was called 'seasoned.' That's what you are. There's plenty I don't know. If I ply you with coffee, I reckon it won't seem so much like I'm pestering you with my questions.”

Miss Smith reappeared. They said grace and breakfasted outside. Scents of smoke, pine, coffee, and fish mingled in the air. Casual conversation flowed. Miss Smith reached out and touched one of the fish that hung over the low fire. ”In another hour or so, I'll be able to store those away.”

”I'll catch more today.”

She shook her finger at her brother. ”Not until you start my gardening plot. You promised you'd hoe me one as soon as we got our first chinook.”

”A chinook is an unseasonably warm wind,” Tucker explained. He turned back to his sister. ”The growing season's not long enough to make it worth your while.”

Unable to bear the disappointment flickering across her face, Ian spoke up. ”I brought seeds, myself.”

Miss Smith's jaw dropped. ”You did?”

Tucker gave him a wary look. ”Most men wouldn't bother. First and only thing they care about is getting gold.”

”I'm not like most men.” Ian lifted the coffeepot and poured the last of its contents into Tucker's cup. ”Getting the gold is only part of my plan. But I came to succeed, not to plunder the land and run off. Having a solid roof over my head and food for my table-that will allow me to remain put and be a success in the long haul.”

Tucker took a sip of coffee and said nothing.

”You folks have been more than kind, but I don't want to test your hospitality by making a mistake again about the property line. What landmarks did you and Percy establish?”

”The pile of rocks right there”-Tucker nodded toward the riverbank, then tilted his head in the opposite direction-”to the red alders back there.”

”Mr. Clemment holds the land on your opposite side.” Miss Smith stared into her mug. ”There's a bramble between your properties, and you're best to leave it alone. He means no one any harm. He's rather...eccentric.”

”I'll keep that in mind.” Ian surveyed the area and thought aloud. ”There's enough for my mule to forage for a while, but I won't be able to keep her in feed all winter long. For a while, she'll be useful, though. I can hitch her to pull the logs for my cabin. Until I fell the trees, she's got nothing to do. Would you like to use her to start your garden?”

”Nice offer.” Tucker sounded like a man doomed to a tedious ch.o.r.e. ”But we don't have a plow.”

”Neither do I, but I have a plan.”

About an hour later, Tucker looked over the odd apparatus they'd put together. ”You know, this thing just might work, after all.”

They'd taken the skids from the sled Bess had pulled the supplies on and used them along with a spade, a plank, wires, and leather straps to create a plow. ”It's a sorry-looking oddity, but it'll work.” Ian jostled it. ”Pretty st.u.r.dy, all things considered. We'll hitch it up to Bess, and you can start that garden for your sister.”

”Nope.” Tucker rested his hands on his hips. ”You plow both gardens, and I'll chop down trees. Believe me, I'm better with an ax than a plow.”

Ian wagged his head from side to side. ”Your plot is cleared; I need to clear stones. I-”

”Under the best of circ.u.mstances with a normal plow, I'd make a fool of myself. In the time it would take me to plow the garden with this contraption, you could have done yours, ours, and more to boot. We're simply trading skills.”

”Tell you what: I'll clear stones while you catch more fish. I'm not looking to put in a huge garden-just enough to get by. Then we can start in on that deal.”

Tucker chewed the inside of his cheek and looked at their claims. ”How much seed did you bring?” A minute later, he cupped his hands and called, ”Sis?”

Miss Smith came around the side of their cabin, her arms full of deadwood. ”Yes?”

”C'mon over here.” He cupped his chin in his hand and tapped his forefinger against his cheek as if he was pondering something perplexing.