The wind shifted direction and grew far stronger. Her gelding turned and shook his mane. Sensing his restlessness, Laney used light pressure with her knees to direct him to an outcropping of rocks. Once there she slid off, gathered the reins, and decided to walk. I can't go home yet. I can't. In the past, when she'd needed advice, she'd gone to Mrs. O'Sullivan. That's impossible now.

Laney heard a noise in the distance and led her horse farther from the road. Though she couldn't see anything, she knew it would be Josh and Ruth returning from the O'Sullivans'. She didn't want to talk to them just yet.

Harnesses jingled and wooden wheels made a gritty, lumbering sound over the dirt road. "Whoa."

Laney stepped back into shadows.

"I know I saw her." Worry strained Ruth's voice. "She doesn't even have a wrap, Josh."

"Laney Lou," he called, using his pet name for her-the one he'd crooned to her in the dark the night he came to tell her their mother had died, the one he'd boomed with joy the day she'd come home from finishing school. His tone held nothing but loving concern.

That fact undid her. Tears filled her eyes again. I thought I'd cried myself out. I don't want anyone to see me like this.

"C'mon, Laney Lou. Let's go home." Josh now stood less than a foot away.

Laney squared her shoulders and blinked back tears. "I'll ride along behind you."

"Ride in the wagon with Ruth. I'll follow on Juniper."

"You're arguing with me?"

"Even if I agreed to let you ride, Ruth wouldn't stand for it."

A rakish smile tilted one corner of his mouth. "You know I'm right." He took the reins from her.

When they reached the wagon, Ruth scooted over and Josh lifted Laney to sit by her. Ruth opened one side of her shawl as if to make half of a set of angel wings, but she patted something in her lap. "This is yours."

Laney shuddered. Made of the finest cashmere, the caramel-and-beige shawl looked wonderfully warm and soft. She compressed her lips to tamp down a cry and merely shook her head.

"It's from Josh and me. Mrs. O'Sullivan's been keeping it for us so you wouldn't find it." Ruth let her own shawl slide down her back and wrapped Laney in the gift. "You're half frozen! Josh, we need to get home."

"The wagon's not budging until you cover up, yourself."

"Oh honestly." Ruth huffed, yanked her shawl into place, and flicked the reins. "Laney, has your brother always been this bossy?"

"Ruthie?" Josh didn't sound perturbed in the least.

"Now what?"

"You're going to drive those poor horses crazy and get nowhere until you release the brake."

Laney tried to smile.

Once they got underway, Ruth called out, "Josh, ride on ahead and ask Hilda to put on some tea. Your sister and I are both chilly."

Josh rode off.

Ruth kept her focus on the horses. "Laney, I'm sure you'd want to know that Mrs. O'Sullivan-" "Please, Ruth, don't say another word. I can't bear it."

The short ride back home remained painfully silent. Ruth halted the wagon by the kitchen door. Josh came out of the house and helped her down. As he set Laney on the veranda, he didn't turn loose of her. "I want you to listen to me. It's not right for you to visit the O'Sullivans."

"I couldn't"-she shuddered-"go over there. Not now. Not ever."

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.

You young'uns need to get to bed." Ivy stood just a few feet inside of the barn. The kerosene lantern gave off a white light that made her hair look like a dozen tangled spider webs.

"Awww," Sean glanced at the lopsided stool he'd been building, then looked at Galen. "Do we have to?"

"Yeah, Galen." Dale stopped banging a nail. "Can't we stay up awhile?"

Colin didn't stop whittling from his perch on a bale of hay.

"It's Christmas."

That's a perfect excuse. I can make the boys happy and at the same time I'll be putting Ivy in her place.

"It bein' Christmas, that cain be yore gift to yore mama-obeyin' her with a gladsome heart 'stead of draggin' yore feet," Ivy replied.

"Ma wants us to go to bed, or you do?" Belligerence tainted Sean's voice.

"Since yore mama wants it, I do, too."

"Ma sent you out here?" Colin's eyes narrowed.

"Shore did. She cain't very well come after you, what with her ankle all swoll up."

"Go on in," Galen told the boys. "Be sure you put your tools away first."

A few short minutes later, the boys headed toward the house.

Ivy hadn't budged an inch.

Galen turned his back on her and checked the latches on each stall so the horses would be secure through the night. He'd already finished his work here. Normally, he'd go on in and use the time to read from the Bible and pray with his family.

Tonight he didn't want to go in. He'd spent the afternoon recalling each and every minute he'd spent with Laney. She'd been like a sunbeam-warm and gentle during some of the darkest days of his life.

"Mr. O'Sullivan."

Ivy's soft, twangy voice grated on his nerves. Galen thought about ignoring her. Instead, he wheeled around and glowered.

"I wanted to say thankee for letting my brother stay on."

"That was Ma's doing, not mine."

As if he'd said nothing, Ivy went on, "I ain't niver slept on a 'bove-the-ground bed. Thankee for carryin' that cot inside."

"Ma hurt herself trying to reach that cot for you."

Ivy wrapped her arms around her ribs. "I reckoned 'twas so. I'm dreadful sorry, and I tole her so. Don't you worry none, though. In a handful of days, she'll be right as rain. Ain't nothin' gonna go undone whilst she's laid up. I'll do it all."

Galen stared at her. She might well be speaking the truth, but she lied today and it cost me my sweet Laney. Now I'm stuck with this woman-her hair a fright, her dress askew, her speech whiny.

Unaware of his thoughts, Ivy tacked on, "In the church, I promised to holp you and yore kin. All you gotta do is say how."

"The only help I want from you is a confession that you've lied and the child isn't mine. This sham will be over, and you can go." He dared to take a step closer. "You made a bad choice in using me as your mark. I don't have money to pay you off."

She wagged her head from side to side. "I ain't a-lookin' to get no money. Don't wanna go noplace else."

"Well, I don't want you here. I don't want you."

Ivy hitched her right shoulder. "Pa didn't want me, neither.

Didn't keep me from cooking for him and tendin' his rheumatiz. You'll see-I'm useful."

"If I wanted a useful woman, I'd hire a maid or a cook!"

"You jist said you got no money." She shivered.

Galen scowled. "You don't have the sense God gave a flea. Even Dale knew to put on a jacket."

"That Dale-he's a smart one." She bobbed her head. "Then thar's Sean-full of life. And Colin-pert near a man now."

"My brothers are none of your concern."

"Thar my kin now."

"Saying something doesn't make it a fact. You can talk all you want, but I won't agree with a liar."

"Yore hungry."

He made no reply. Talking to Ivy was impossible. If she didn't like what was said, she ignored it or changed the subject. It didn't matter that she was right about his brothers or right about his being hungry. He'd refused to sit at the supper table and eat the Christmas meal the McCains brought. He had no appetite, and he certainly didn't want to share his table with Ivy and Ishmael.

"When yore of a mind to come on in, I set food in that warmin' box atop yore mama's stove."

"I'm not coming in." He stared at her.

The ponderous clop-clop-clop of a weary beast drifted into the barn. A moment later, Ishmael led his mule inside. "Brung ev'rythang, Boss." A mere breath later, Ishmael's expression changed. "Didn't know you was here, sis."

"She's going inside. Now."

"I got your bed set up in the tack room, jist like you tole me to."

Ivy's brows knit, and she turned to Galen. "You moved yore bed out here to the tack room?"

Color suddenly flooded Ishmael's face. He looked back and forth from Ivy to Galen. "Sorry. Didn't realize. It's yore weddin' night. 'Course the both of you wanted privacy," he mumbled to his boots.

"Never." Galen folded his arms across his chest. "As soon as your sister identifies the father of her child, she can go to him."

"Sis ain't goin' nowhar. Best you know that." Ishmael shoved the mule's nuzzle away when the animal began to seek affection.

"You spoke your vows."

"I vowed to provide for her and the child. If it means I scrape up money each month and send it to wherever she and her lover are, I'll do it."

Ivy leapt between them and wound her arms tightly around Ishmael. "Don't, Ishy. Please don't."

Ishmael pried his way free. "For true, I'm tempted to bash my fist into yore ugly mouth, Boss. But I ain't a-gonna. I give you and yore ma my word that I wouldn't cause no troubles."

Galen let out a rude snort. "You've already caused more trouble than I could handle in ten lifetimes."

"You cain go on blamin' ev'rybody 'cept yoreself if 'n it makes you feel better, but that don't make 'em responsible."

"Tell that to your sister." Galen turned to her. "Your brother knows he cannot be with you or speak to you unless I'm present. I-"

"Now that thar's the craziest thang a body e'er said." Ivy gave him a peeved look.

"I don't mind, sis." Ishmael wrapped his arm around the mule's neck. "A man's gotta right to say how thangs go in his home. I tole Boss we'll foller his rules."

Ivy still looked disgruntled, but she shrugged.

"Yore thangs are wrapped up in the blue bundle," Ishmael said, tilting his head toward the travois. As Ivy stooped to get them, Ishmael asked, "Boss, d'ya want Muley to spend his nights in the pasture or here in the stable?"

Galen studied the beast. He'd never seen a sorrier animal. Its ribs stood out in stark rows. "What have you been feeding him?"

"He forages." Ivy cupped the bundle of her belongings to herself and said proudly, "Hardworkin' animal, thar. And he don't cost you nuthin' at all to feed. I reckon yore plow horse is a-gonna get scairt you might not need him no more."

Ishmael cleared his throat. "Betwixt Muley and that plow horse of yourn, we'll be able to plow and harrow a field in half the time. I could clear another field or two as winter stretches on.

Come spring, you'd have yoreself more land to plant."

"Don't go making plans for too far into the future." Galen eyed Ivy's bundle. "Take those things inside."

"G'night, sis." Ishmael turned loose of the mule and hugged Ivy.

I'd rather deal with the mule than with the marriage. Galen's stomach rumbled. He stood his ground, and Ivy scurried off.

Ishmael pulled another meager bundle from the travois. "Don't know whether yore mama's a-gonna want these here thangs. Ain't much, but I reckon it niver hurts to have 'nother pot or knife. 'Specially with two wimmin at the stove, extry gear might come in handy."

Galen stared at the battered pot.