The Cowboy Tutor. Linda Ford

did she shake her head? “Of course not. Thanks for your help.” She returned to the soothing rhythm of milking, as aware of Justin’s presence as if he shouted and yodeled rather than waited quietly.

       She finished, poured some milk into a trough for the calf and headed for the house to strain the rest for the family. Sally took the pail as she stepped inside.

       “I’ll take care of this. You go deliver the laundry.”

       “Thanks.”

       A few minutes later, Madge sat behind the wheel of their reluctant automobile and tried not to envy Justin his better car. Justin had continued to follow her and, without seeking permission, climbed in beside her. Obviously he meant to accompany her. She couldn’t find the strength to suggest otherwise. Besides—she clung to her excuse—she might discover something about him he didn’t mean for her to find.

       The clean laundry, smelling of soap and hot irons, sat in neat piles behind them, covered with an old sheet to protect it from the dust.

       When they arrived at her first delivery point, he got out and grabbed a basket.

       “I can manage. I do all the time.”

       “Yeah. I guessed that.” He led the way up the sidewalk. “You remind me of my mother.”

       “Should I be insulted to be compared to an older woman or flattered it’s your mother?”

       He chuckled. “I meant you are independent just like her. She could have let us know she was in trouble, but she didn’t. Even when we found out, we practically had to force her to tell us the truth. When the bank foreclosed on her house, she insisted she and Levi could find a place somewhere. It took all of us talking fast and hard to convince her to move in with Carson.”

       “She sounds like a strong woman.” Even as she spoke, Madge shuddered. “I intend to see we don’t lose our house. I think Mother and I could manage, but Louisa would suffer ill health from the upset. Who knows what Sally would do? At times she seems ready to conquer any challenge, yet at other times I fear a harsh word will destroy her.” Why she was telling him all this left her as puzzled as Sally often did in her reactions to life.

       They reached the door, so conversation came to a halt. Madge handed over the clean items and received a few coins. She tucked the money into her deep pocket to add to the coffee can when she got home. The payment was due next week, and she knew without counting she would never make it.

       “I need something special to happen,” she muttered, then wondered if she’d lost her mind to utter the words aloud.

       “What do you mean?”

       “Never mind.” She eased the automobile down the street to her next delivery. Again, Justin insisted on carrying the basket to the door. Thankfully, the distance was short, making conversation impossible.

       She drove three blocks and picked up another batch of laundry.

       “Seems to me you’re working hard, finding ways to cope. What is it you’re worried about?”

       She snorted. “We’re in a depression. No jobs. No money. Drought. Poor prices. What isn’t there to worry about?”

       “I hear ya. But not all those things touch each of us personally. For instance, you have work. You have a source of food and your house.”

       “For now,” she muttered, immediately wanting to smack herself for revealing more than she intended. This wasn’t his problem. She didn’t even trust him, for goodness’ sake. Why would she want to share her problems with him?

       “Your house is still mortgaged?”

       She grunted. Let him take it for agreement or not. Whatever he wanted. She didn’t intend to discuss this with him.

       “Are you in danger of losing it?” His quiet words flushed through her, leaving a trickle of anger and determination.

       “Not if I have anything to say about it.” She took the corner too fast and skidded. Let him think about that instead of talking about losing the house. She couldn’t contemplate the possibility. Her anger fled as quickly as it came. “I’m not worried. God has promised to take care of us. I simply have to believe He will.” Though it would require divine intervention within the next few days.

       “There again, you sound like my mother.”

       She glanced at him and gave a tight smile that did not budge the determination tightening the skin around her eyes. “She must be a good woman.”

       He grinned. “I think so.” His gaze lingered. Did he think the same of her?

       And what difference did it make if he did?

       She tried to think of all the reasons it didn’t matter, but for a moment, for the space of a heartbeat—for the time it took to blink away from his gaze—she let herself imagine he had complimented her, and she allowed herself to enjoy the thought.

       She headed out of town toward the farm. Her journey took her past the Mayerses’ place. Young Kenny stood at the end of the garden, a few feet from the edge of the road. She squinted at him. “What’s he doing?”

       “Best I can guess is he’s taking the chickens for a walk.”

       She sputtered in surprise. “Never heard of walking chickens.” But indeed the boy had half a dozen hens tethered by a foot and marched them up and down the end of the garden.

       Madge crawled to a halt and leaned out her window. “Kenny, what are you doing?”

       “Ma says the chickens have to eat the grasshoppers before they get to the plants.” He sounded as mournful as the distant train whistle. “Says I have to keep them here until dark.”

       “Sounds like a chore.”

       “It’s boring. Stupid chickens wouldn’t stay here, so I roped ’em. Now they got nothing to do but chase hoppers.” One chicken tore after a hopper to Kenny’s right. Two others squawked at the disturbance and flapped in the opposite direction. Kenny had his hands full keeping everything sorted out.

       “Well, have fun,” Madge called as she drove away. She didn’t dare look at Justin until they were well out of Kenny’s hearing, then she saw him struggling as much as she was to contain amusement.

       They started to laugh. Madge laughed until her stomach felt emptied and her heart refreshed. She gasped for air and dried her eyes. “Never seen that before.”

       Justin shook his head. “Thought I’d seen every kind of critter that could be led. ’Course, the chickens weren’t exactly cooperating, were they? I think poor Kenny is going to end up trussed by his feathered herd.”

       They burst into fresh gales of laugher as she turned into the yard. The laughter died as they approached the house. She slid a worried look at him. Would he think her silly? But his eyes brimmed with amusement and something as warm as fresh milk, as sweet as clover honey and as forbidden as taking candy from a baby. Yet she couldn’t deny the way his glance sought and found a place deep inside where it seemed to fit perfectly.

       She tore her gaze away and delivered a firm lecture to herself. Everything about this man was wrong, wrong, wrong. For starters, she knew he was hiding something. Plus, he had been handpicked as a suitable mate for Louisa. What kind of woman would entertain thoughts for a man intended for her sister?

       She bolted from the car and reached for the laundry baskets, now full of tumbled, smelly items. But Justin beat her and held them in his arms.

       “Where do you want me to put them?”

       She nodded toward the coal shed she used as a laundry room. “In there would be fine.” She hesitated as he disappeared into the dark interior, then slowly followed, wondering if she didn’t step into danger as she crossed the threshold. She grabbed the pull chain, and a bare bulb lit the interior. “On the bench.”

       He deposited the baskets and looked about, sneezing