Dakota Child. Linda Ford

breakfast.”

      Only by talking softly of the animals and the weather did Billy manage to get Ma to sit long enough to eat. He took a bowl of hot mush to Vivian in front of the fireplace without suggesting she move to the table. He didn’t want to risk sending Ma running from the room.

      As soon as Ma finished, she started to pull on heavy outerwear. “I have to milk Betsy.”

      Billy pulled on his winter coat, too. “I’ll look after the other animals.” He lifted the bar off the door.

      “Leave the dishes. I’ll do them.” Vivian spoke quietly.

      Billy gladly did so and followed Ma to the barn where he hurried through his chores. He would normally take time to brush the colt, stroke all the cats and play with Limpy, his three-legged dog. Billy had nursed the pup from birth. He was the only dog left from many batches. Limpy was getting old. Billy would soon enough have to find a new dog, though the idea branded a protest on the inside of his heart.

      Poor Limpy used to love this weather but he was getting old and refused to leave the barn unless it was warm out. Today, the cold had a nasty bite.

      Ma milked Betsy. “You’ll get rid of her today?”

      “As soon as I’ve done the chores.” The sooner the better for all of them. He’d struggle for weeks after she left to control the longings buried beneath the rubble in his heart, longings that had wormed their way to the surface during Vivian’s visit.

      “Good.”

      Ma finished milking and handed him the bucket. “I’ll stay here until you leave.”

      “Ma, it’s cold.”

      “I’ll sit beside Betsy.”

      He hitched up Blaze. “I’ll be back in a few minutes for the wagon. Will you go inside then?”

      “Maybe.” She gave him a look full of regret. “I’m sorry. I wish I didn’t act so crazy when—”

      “Never mind. We both know you aren’t crazy.”

      She snorted. “How can you be so sure?”

      “’Cause I know. Though you put up with me. Many would think that makes you crazy.”

      She smiled and brushed her mittens over his chin, the wool rough and damp smelling. “If they knew the truth, they would know I am blessed to have a son like you.”

      “Ma, I love you.”

      “And I you.” She patted his cheek. “Look after the milk.”

      Billy laughed because the look she sent the direction of the house had nothing to do with milk, and everything to do with getting Vivian out of her house.