Ruth laughed. "Hilda did, too. She sent along lunch. We're going to have enough to feed half the town."

To Laney's delight, Galen made a point of sitting beside her on the quilt out in the churchyard. "You'd better have more of an appetite than you usually do, Laney. Ma sent fried chicken and biscuits."

"My favorites!"

He gave her a sly wink and pulled a jar from his basket. "Look here, will you. Ma sent apple-pear butter."

"It's a good thing we're sharing baskets!" Ruth announced as she promptly swiped it from him. "Hilda's been hiding ours from me."

Laney and Galen looked at each other and started to laugh. Her heart overflowed with happiness.

"There you are." Galen hoped Laney heard the pleasure resonating in his voice. Her smile made him think so.

"Here's her parasol," Sean said as he shoved it into Galen's hand. "We'll see you at home." Sean swaggered toward the horses tethered to the next tree.

Normally, he rode to church in the back of the buckboard with Ma and Dale. But today Laney would be Galen's Sunday supper guest. Her beautiful full skirts took up considerable space. And though Galen would far rather have Laney ride up on the seat beside him, he let Dale scramble into that spot. If he gave Ma a tiny bit of time on the trip home with Laney, then Galen could have her all to himself for a nice stroll after the meal. Galen opened Laney's Sunday-best parasol and handed it to her. "M'lady."

"Thank you." She leaned a little closer. The refreshing, tangy scent of her lemon verbena wafted over him. "Aren't we blessed to have such beautiful weather? I missed California's sunshine when I was away at school."

"Aye," Ma said. "But keep using that parasol. You're fair and the sun's harsh."

Galen didn't bother to look at the creamy fabric contraption with swirling lace about the edges. He'd seen it countless times. He couldn't get his fill of looking at Laney. "Aye, lass. You're fair, indeed."

A fetching blush filled Laney's cheeks. "Thank you."

They'd gone no more than a mile out of town when Dale scrambled over the seat and wiggled in beside Laney. Ma shot Galen a secretive smile. He grinned back. Everyone loves Laney. In the midst of my family-'tis where she belongs.

"Ma's making ham for lunch," Dale said. "But don't worry, Laney. It's not from one of our pigs. When I take you to the sty, you can count to be sure."

"I don't need to count, Dale. We're partners. I trust you."

"Hortense and Mr. Snout trust us, too. That's why they aren't ham or bacon or pork chops."

Immediately following lunch, Dale made a pest of himself. Ma had asked Sean and Colin to wash the dishes, so Dale invited himself to go along on the walk. To Galen's dismay, Ma agreed. "Aye, our Dale. You take Laney over to see how well you're caring for your pigs."

I want to take my lass on a leisurely stroll. Alone. 'Tisn't romantic in the least to have a wee little brother tag along, and to stop by a reeking sty.Instead of wooing Laney, I'll be scaring the lass away!

"But once you've swilled the hogs, you come back home to me." Ma smiled. "I've not forgotten how you and I each won a game of draughts this week. Today, I aim to play the third-and win it."

Dale adamantly shook his head. "I'm gonna beat you, Ma. Just you wait and see!"

"Don't keep me waiting too long."

Galen winked at Ma. She'd had a plan all worked out. Aye, and I should have known. She loves my Laney so. 'Tis a joy to know the two women I love get along so well.

Galen's gaze traveled back to Laney. Her smile had faded. Truth be told, she looked woefully sad. Why? All this time, she's wanted me to court her. Now that I'm doing that, she'd rather have my pesky little brother come along? It makes no sense.

Once Dale showed off how well he'd been tending Hortense, he scampered back to the house. Galen dared to take Laney's hand and thread it through his arm. That ought to let her know straight off that he'd come to his senses and cared for her. Perhaps she'd come to lunch today thinking 'twas more for little Dale's happiness than a subtle foray into a carefully thought out wooing.

The way her lips parted showed her surprise. Galen didn't say anything. Sometimes words got in the way. Best he show her his love. Words hadn't ever been his strong suit. He looked deep into her eyes and smiled.

Her face lit up, and the corners of her mouth lifted.

They wandered past the fields. "Your father would be so proud of you, Galen. He already was, but to see how you've kept the farm so nice and the crops are thriving-it's been difficult, but you're more than equal to the task."

"Thanks, Laney. I want to do Da proud. Ma and the boys need to see things are still safe and good. I don't want them worrying about whether the harvest will be enough to cover our needs."

"You've surpassed that goal. Farming's a hard life. I look at other farmers, and they always look like they're battling the earth and weather. You ... you don't. It's as if ..." A nervous laugh bubbled out of her.

"As if ... ?"

"It might sound fanciful, but you work with your land, not against it. The way you tend it and coax it-how could it not yield gracious plenty?"

"Hard work isn't all it takes, Laney. God's been good to me. Nevertheless, I think of how the Bible talks of years of plenty and years of want. I'll pray and work night and day to be sure my family's got what they need." And I hope someday soon that will include you.

"There was a time before Josh married Ruth that he'd wondered about traveling east to enlist if there's a war. The other day, he said he'd not go."

Galen heard the unasked question in her voice. "I pledged to Da that I'd be here to care for Ma and raise up the boys. I've no doubt that the North and South will be battling. It's a war that's been long brewing and cannot help but come. Me? I'll pray for those who fight, but I cannot forsake my vow and leave my family defenseless and in need."

Laney's strained look lessened but didn't vanish. "Lester Pearson was boasting in the mercantile the other day that the war will last three weeks or less. He predicts the South will whup the Northern oppressors."'

Galen smiled grimly. "Don't forget how he says the South will *be eating on the White House lawn and drinking tea in Boston."'

"I didn't hear him say that. Probably because Mr. Darlden took exception to Lester's opinion. He said the only thing the South might *whup the North' at was a game of draughts."

"Is that why you looked so sad when Ma mentioned draughts?"

She nodded. "Lester and Mr. Darlden used to be friends. Now they're barely civil to one another."

Galen nodded. "'Tis a sad thing when friends let a difference of opinion part them."

"Politics, religion, and finances-the three things Mrs. Genevieve exhorted us all to avoid discussing. She was the headmistress at the finishing school."

Galen nodded.

"I'm not sure why, but it seems to me those are the three things men discuss the most!"

"Some men." He led her toward the edge of the path. "There are those of us whose favorite topics are God's grace and our family."

"I knew I liked you." As soon as she spoke, she looked stricken.

Galen laughed. He pulled his arm free, stooped down, and picked a few pretty wildflowers. Standing, he gently put them in her hand. "And I like you, too."

"Don't make no sense, that Jesus feller jist lyin' there and lettin' 'em pound Him onto a cross."

"He did it out of love," Galen said.

The day they'd installed the stained glass windows in the church had done more than shed light into the church. It had brought to light Ishmael's ignorance and staggering innocence when it came to spiritual matters. In the two weeks since then, Ishmael had asked about God every other day or so. Their conversations were startling. Things Galen grew up "knowing" and never questioned as well as other things he'd never thought about all cropped up.

"That don't make sense. Only them disciple fellers treated Him good."

"He did it for everyone; not just His followers."

Ishmael shook his head. "Cain't fathom that. Now for somebody special, I s'pose a buck could take the blame. If 'n 'twere for Ivy, I'd let 'em kill me."

"Jesus said that very thing. He told His followers that regular people would lay down their lives for a loved one-but when we belong to God, we are to be different. We have to love one another and be willing to make sacrifices even for our enemies."

Ishmael stopped working and stretched his back. "Whar I come from, a smart feller lets his enemies die off. Pa done taught me early on that a man's gotta take care of hisself. Ain't nobody else gonna."

"As I said, Christians believe differently."

Ishmael cracked his knuckles. "That Jesus of yourn-He shore had some addlepated notions."

Galen accepted Ishmael's opinion; it stood to reason that he'd consider something so contrary to human nature as illogical or foolish. "Christ urged us to love our neighbors as much as we love ourselves."

"Well, you got yoreself some fine neighbors. Them McCains are nice as cain be. Liking them ain't so hard for you."

"We are blessed to have them as our friends and neighbors." Galen waited half a beat, then went on, "But Jesus used a story to show us who our neighbors are."

"Back home in Crooked Leg, we had old Cletus Bantley. He shore did love to spin a fine yarn. Bet him and yore Jesus woulda had themselves a fine old time together."

Galen smiled. "I'm sure they would."

"Too bad Sis ain't here. Nobody savors a tale more'n Ivy."

"What about Thursday? Are Ivy and your father coming for Thanksgiving?"

"Pa says it's a Yankee holiday." Ishmael rubbed his nose with the ball of his thumb.

"You can tell your father California started celebrating Thanksgiving ten years ago, so it's not just a Yankee celebration." Galen chuckled. "As a matter of fact, Laney and Ruth are stalwart supporters of Sarah Josepha Hale. She's the editor of Godey's Lady's Book and writes passionately about making Thanksgiving a national holiday."

"Pa ain't so sure we're gonna stay one nation. Truth be tole, Lincoln gettin' hisself elected has Pa mad as a gypped whore."

Galen cocked a brow.

"Whoops. Sorry, Boss. 'Tis jist a sayin'."

"Not one I want to hear."

Ishmael nodded sheepishly. "Niver thunk much 'bout them kind of sayin's. I'm tryin' to mind my mouth."

"I appreciate that."

Ishmael scuffed his boot in the dirt. "Ain't niver spent time or money on one of them gals, neither. Even if I had the money, don't reckon I would. Don't seem right somehow."

"It isn't," Galen agreed.

"If Pa comes to supper for Thanksgivin', he's liable to spout off some stuff that ain't polite. And he'll have plenty to say 'bout how the election was shady."

"Feelings are running high about the results. We can turn the conversation onto a different topic."

"Pa ain't easy to sway when he sets his mind on something."

"He's never tasted my mother's cooking."

Ishmael chuckled and shook his finger at Galen. "Whoa-ho. That's whar yore wrong. Three times now, yore mama sent Ivy home a-carryin' a supper plate to Pa. Onc't I remember Pa on that, he'll be champin' on the bit to come."

"I'll tell Ma to count on him coming."

"Ivy, too. I reckon you could recite that story Jesus tole 'bout neighbors. I'll tell Ivy yore fixin' to spin a tale. 'Twill give her sommat to look forward to."

"You do that."

"Boss? You know Ivy's come over twice to sew." Ishmael grimaced and stared down at his feet. "If Pa knowed she was jist comin' here to get herself a dress, he wouldn'ta let her. It shames me to admit it, but he's dreadful hard on her. We let Pa think them jars we toted back was pay for her holp two of them times. T'other time, you sneaked a gunnysack of vittles by that tree. Ivy done tole me you done that three times now, but you didn't want Pa to know, so we ain't tole him."

"Ivy wasn't supposed to see me that first time."

"Then how was she a-gonna know them vittles was thar?"

Galen grinned. "My plan was to set the bag somewhere she was sure to find it. The Bible tells us to give quietly-so subtly that the left hand doesn't know what the right hand is giving."

"Yore Bible-book shore has some fanciful notions. But the last time you put a sackful of vittles thar, I strung 'em up from a tree. That next day, when we was a-walkin' back home, I got it down so's Pa would reckon lettin' Ivy go away for a day now and then was a right smart plan."

"I see."

"Don't think you do." Ishmael sighed. "Pa got hisself a rare bad temper. Ivy and me, we learnt early not to rile him. We didn't 'zactly lie to him. We jist let him draw his own conclusions when Ivy brung home stuff."

"I won't lie, and I won't ask Ma to lie, either." Galen frowned. "Is Ivy safe?"

"Safe as she's ever been." Ishmael finally looked back up. "And happier, too. Yore ma and neighbors-they've been real nice to Sis. Pa don't thank Ivy's worth much, her bein' a gal. But that worked in her favor this time. He didn't 'spect she oughtta earn much, so her comin' home with vittles for later and a plate of meat-well, that more'n satisfied him."

Lord, how do I handle this? Give me wisdom. Galen looked off in the distance. The boys were starting off to school, and Ma made sure she hugged and kissed all three of them. How would I feel if Ma only loved some of us and was mean to the others? What would I do to protect them?

"Mayhap 'tis best that we jist not come."

Galen made a show of folding his arms across his chest. "You think your father is difficult? Just you try tellin' Ma you're not accepting her hospitality." He shook his head. "You're a braver man than I am. I'd rather walk through a swarm of angry bees than disappoint Ma. I'll have a talk with her, and we'll be careful with what's said so Ivy is safe."

The sadness fled Ishmael's eyes, only to be replaced with a mischievous gleam. He poked his tongue out into his cheek and ran it back and forth for a long count, then nodded. "I'll take yore word for it, Boss. If anybody's a-gonna be riled, best it not be the cook!"

Ivy pinched the edges of the pie closed and carefully lowered it into the Dutch oven. Ishy had snared her two fat squirrels.With the flour and lard the O'Sullivans had given them, Ivy had turned those squirrels into a masterpiece. She could hardly wait till tomorrow. From all the chatter about Thanksgiving while she'd been sewing over at the O'Sullivans, she knew there'd be plenty of food. Pride led her to make something to take, too.

Folks always told her she baked the best squirrel pie they ever ate. She looked forward to putting on her beautiful green dress and carrying that pie into the O'Sullivan place. Oh, it would be a fine moment.

A shadow fell over her. Ivy looked up and tried not to let her fear show. "Pa's back 'hind the lean-to," she told the black-haired man.

"I figured as much." Pa's partner waved toward the right. "I brought more corn."

Ivy nodded. One or the other of the partners managed to come by with corn or sugar or both a couple of times a week. Every other time, they'd come with a wagon to tote away the jugs-but never on a schedule, so she couldn't guess when one of them would show up.