"And," Pa tacked on, "be shore to make up a plate for the gentleman."

Pa knows we only got three plates. Good thang I didn't get my mouth all set for eating tonight.

"I've already eaten." The stranger's tone sounded downright polite, all things considered.

"Hope you don't mind us diggin' in. We've worked up a powerful appetite, and food's scarce." Pa took the plate with the most on it and sat in the dirt.

Ishmael accepted his plate and murmured, "Thanks, sis."

"Shore you don't want none, mister?" Ivy held the plate up to him.

"No. Thanks."

She went back toward Ishmael and tilted her plate so all of the snake rolled onto his. Shoving her other hand into a patch pocket she'd sewn on her skirt, she declared, "Good thang I found this here wild onion today. Niver could abide snake."

Ishmael patted the spot beside him. "Have a sit-down. You've been workin' hard all day."

While every last one of Pa's actions and words carried the intent of making the stranger give in, Ishmael was just acting the same as always. Ivy sat next to him and took a small bite from the onion.

Pa smacked his lips. "Mister, it ain't too late for you to have yourself a taste of this."

"You need to leave by tomorrow."

"Awww, now." Pa put aside his plate. "You just done went and ruint my appetite. And why? Why, I ask you? I'll tell you why. For no good reason. As a matter of fact, us bein' here is a holp to you. Until yore ready to work this section of land, we're willin' to work to improve it. Take a gander at what we done in just a little while."

The man's face stayed cold as sleet as he stared at the charred mess and ashes. "I'm doing just that."

Pa looked affronted. "We was fixin' to rich-up the soil. Ever'body knows mixin' ash with the ground gives it better growin' power. I got a buildin' and a crop both put in, too."

"Used the last of our seed on that corn." Ishmael poked another piece of snake with his knife and lifted it to his mouth.

"Shouldn't have." Pa shook his head. "But my boy took a mind to put in a crop. I done tole him, if it's not knee-high by the Fourth of July, you're in trouble." Regardless of his claim to have lost his appetite, Pa snatched up his plate again and gulped down another bite.

Ivy held her tongue. It wasn't right, Pa blaming Ishmael, when the truth was Pa had insisted on planting the crop.

"We're in Californy." Ishmael's voice sounded calm as could be, even though Pa wronged him by telling such a lie. "S'posed to be sunny here later."

Pa shook his head. "I'm tellin' ya, mister. I'm sore afraid I'm gonna have to watch my kids go hungry all winter."

Niver bothered him afore now. Long as he stays roostered on his shine, he don't feel cold or hunger.

"If there's a late fall, it might still yield," the man said as he finally dismounted. "Several farmers actually plant a second crop."

"Mister, you gotta let us stay on here," Pa said.

"Leastways through the winter." Ishmael's comment took Ivy by surprise. He usually let Pa do all of the fancy talking when things were bad. Her brother cast a worried look at her, then stood up. "We don't got much, but you could either have us sharecrop or I could come over to that place of yourn and work."

"Now, thar's a fine plan!" Pa slapped his leg. "My son already proved hisself to you that day in town. He's a hard worker and got a strong back. The gal and me-we'd keep thangs goin' here. Why, by spring when you're ready to do your plantin' and such, you'll be beggin' us to stay on so's you cain have my son's holp."

The man stood in silence.

Ivy's heart plummeted. Ishmael's offer might have tempted him, but Pa went on and on, making it sound like the Grubbs were doing the man a favor by squatting on his land. Pa, shut up! Only Pa wasn't a man to pass up an opportunity to hear himself talk. He kept right on. She took another small bite of the onion.

When the man had heard more than enough of Pa's palaver, he turned his attention to Ishmael, then glanced at her. "I can't afford to pay a hand."

Ivy blinked and looked down. She hoped he'd assume the tears in her eyes were from the onion.

"Don't matter none to me," Ishmael declared. "You letting us stay here-that's good enough for me."

"But we keep all of our yield," Pa tacked on.

"There's still a lot of work to be done around here." The man's eyes narrowed as he looked at Pa.

"The gal and me-we'll manage."

Ivy bobbed her head and rose. To be able to settle here without worrying that they'd be shooed off at any moment-this man was fulfilling her most ardent dream. It didn't matter that she'd be doing the work and Pa would barely lift a finger. Wasn't any different than it had always been.

The man shook his head. "I can't agree to that."

Her hopes crashed, and the onion in her belly burned.

"Two full days a week, and three half days." The man nodded. "That's what I ask in return as rent for your temporary use of my land."

Pa gargled a wad of spittle and spat it at a dandelion off to the side. "Two full days and one half day."

Oh, Pa. How could you spoil this?

Ishmael forced a chuckle as he scrambled toward the stranger. "When you get to know Pa, you'll learn he's got hisself a rare sense of humor." He stuck out his hand. "Two full days and three half days are a fair deal, seein' as you're lettin' us keep the crop. Mister, you got yourself a farmhand."

"I remember your given name is Ishmael. What's your last name?"

"Grubb." Since he'd finished eating, Pa finally set aside his plate and got to his feet. "I'm Ebenezer Grubb. You got yourself a fine worker in Ishmael. Ivy's my daughter."

The man turned toward her once again and nodded his head to acknowledge her. "Miss Grubb. I'm Galen O'Sullivan."

"Mr. O'Sullivan." Nobody ever used fine manners toward her. His gentlemanly greeting left her feeling unaccountably shy ... but sad, too.

He and Ishmael made arrangements for Ishmael to show up to work the next morning, and then he took his leave.

Pa did a funny little jig once Mr. O'Sullivan rode out of sight. "Boy howdy! It's 'bout time thangs went right for me. I got me a right good deal here."

Ishmael looked down at her. "I'll work hard for the man, sis."

"I knowed you would, Ishy."

Ishmael turned to Pa. "It still don't seem right, repayin' his kindness by runnin' a still on his land."

"What he don't know won't hurt him." Pa waggled his finger at them. "Keep your yap shut and work hard. Ain't no reason for you to ruin my good fortune."

Ivy turned away and looked at the cornfield. Pa hadn't lifted a finger to clear the land, plant, water, or weed. Come harvest, he wouldn't strain himself to help, either. He never did. But he'd spend time nursing that dumb old still and drink part of the profits.

Ishmael waited till Pa went back behind the lean-to. "Sis, I'll work my fingers to the bone for that farmer."

She gave her brother a weary smile. "Pa don't know that the best deal he ever got was havin' you for his son."

"Hey, now. You an' me-we was born together. You cain thank I'm the best deal Pa ever got, but shore as I'm a-standin' here, I got the real prize that day. You're the specialest fortune I ever got."

Her nose wrinkled. "Yore one sorry man, Ishy, to consider someone who reeks of onion as a prize."

"Boys!" Laney tried to maintain a modicum of dignity and grace, but with Dale and Sean each pulling on her hands, she did well to keep her hoops in some semblance of order. She feared at any moment she'd lose the battle and provide all and sundry with an immodest view of her ankles.

"We can't be late, Miss Laney!" Sean said as he tugged on her hand again.

"We've time aplenty yet," Mrs. O'Sullivan said. "If you drag her much farther, her legs are goin' to be worn down to nubbins and she won't be tall enough to watch."

Colin chuckled. The sound made Laney smile, for he'd barely spoken or smiled since the day his father died. Bringing the O'Sullivans to the state fair was working even better than she'd dared hope.

They halted by the fence and watched as a man spread grease all over the squealing pig.

"It's bigger around than you, Miss Laney!" Dale declared.

"Dale!" Mrs. O'Sullivan's brows knit. "You can't be likening a lady to a pig!"

Laney's brother and sister-in-law walked up. Ruth tried to hide her giggles while Josh glanced at Laney's sash. "Galen's sunk fence posts that are half again your size."

If only Galen would notice! Laney couldn't help thinking.

"Joshua McCain"-Mrs. O'Sullivan managed to sound both exasperated and entertained at the same time-"how am I to teach my sons their manners with you setting a bad example?"

"She's right." Ruth agreed. "You need to be truthful. The fence posts are at least twice Laney's size."

Hilda, the McCains' housekeeper, mumbled, "Though it's not for want of good hot food."

Dale pressed against the fence and stared intently at the shoat.

"I'm gonna win this greased pig chase. I gotta." "None of us won the pie-eating contest, but we had plenty of fun anyway." Josh ruffled Dale's carroty curls. "You'll have a great time trying, regardless of who wins."

"Having fun doesn't matter." Dale looked up at Josh. "I need to win."

"Now, whyever do you need to win?" Mrs. O'Sullivan asked.

"'Cuz when I win the money, I'll give it to you and I can keep Hortense."

"The winner doesn't get a cash prize, boy-o." Mrs. O'Sullivan stooped down to Dale's height. "Whoever wins gets to keep the pig."

"I don't want another pig. I want Hortense."

"But you're going to be brave." Colin gave his little brother a stern look. "We farmers know the animals we raise are meant to be food, not pets. There'll be another litter during the winter. You'll find a new piglet to love."

"But it'll be a different piglet." Tears glossed the little boy's eyes. "I'll still love Hortense and miss her."

Mrs. O'Sullivan reached for her youngest son. Fresh grief ravaged the recent widow's features. "You're sad, I know. Sorrow comes when you love deeply and lose."

Laney blinked back her own tears and made up her mind.

She'd concoct a plan to rescue Hortense.

CHAPTER THREE.

Boys and girls!" A gentleman stood in the center of an adjoining area that was blocked off with bales of hay. "Anyone participating in the greased pig chase needs to come listen to the rules."

A moment later, Dale stood in the center of a clump of small children, listening intently. "Oh!" Mrs. O'Sullivan looked distressed. "I didn't have Dale change into his old shirt."

Laney made a dismissive gesture. "So little Dale will be as grubby as his big brothers. After the pie-eating contest, they're a sight!"

"I'm no better." Josh looked down at his shirt. "Ruth said she'd get me a new shirt, and I need one badly."

"Can I tell her now?" Sean nudged Josh.

"Yep."

"Ma, Mr. Josh said if Colin and me got as much pie on our shirts as he did, he'd get us new shirts, too."

"Joshua McCain!" Mrs. O'Sullivan and Hilda both said in unison.

Laney loved the impish sparkle in her brother's eyes. He shrugged and said in a blithe voice, "Hey, we men have to stick together."

"As much pie as you're all wearing," Laney said as she started to giggle, "you'll definitely stick to something!"

"Release the pig!" someone shouted.

Laney turned her attention back to Dale. All of the other children raced after the squealing pig. Many of them fell into a tangled knot of arms and legs, but the pig popped out and ran willynilly around the enclosure.

"What is Dale doing?" Laney watched as he sat cross-legged on the ground.

Above all of the pandemonium, she heard him. "Soooo-eeee! Sooo-eee! Pig. Pig. Pig."

The little pig dodged several children and headed for Dale. One little boy dove and grabbed hold of a hind leg, but the pig slid out of his grasp. He shot off into the direction he'd come, squealing loudly.

"Dale's one smart little guy," Josh said.