Dianne placed the last one on the baking tray. “I hope mine compare favorably with your mother’s.”
“I’m sure they will because they’re both made with—” Love? Was he crazy? Why would he think that? At least he hadn’t blurted it out. Aware of her waiting for him to finish, he added, “Care.”
After that, he kept his attention on Eddie.
“Will Cal and Lee come in for supper?”
A glance out the window showed rain pouring down. “They have slickers and appetites, so they’ll come.”
“Good.” She put meat in a pot and peeled potatoes. The cinnamon buns were in the oven, sweetening the air with spice.
A little later, she handed Eddie a pot and a big spoon. “You stand on the veranda out of the rain and bang this until they come.”
Eddie didn’t need any encouragement, and soon the earsplitting sound filled the air. Dianne cringed as she washed the table and set it. She bent closer to speak to Jace.
“What was ‘it’s nothing’ about?”
Amusement curled around each word as he explained.
She looked in Eddie’s direction. “He could be learning good things at least.”
Did she sound displeased? “You don’t care for what he’s learning?”
Her eyes narrowed, and then she laughed. “Just teasing. He seems happy. What more can I ask for?”
Her question lingered as the cowboys joined them for the meal.
After they’d eaten, Eddie showed them his animals and enticed them into a game.
Lee seemed inclined to linger, but Cal nudged him. “We got things to do.” With thanks for the meal and calling good night, they tromped back to the bunkhouse.
By rights, Jace should go too, but Eddie must have read his intent. “You put me to bed?”
So, of course, Jace agreed, and it wasn’t a difficult decision. When he came down after saying good night to the boy, Dianne was already in the sitting room with tea and cookies on the table, but no checkers game set out.
“You don’t want to play now that you know I can beat you?”
“I knew you weren’t trying.” Laughter bubbled around her words. “No, I just don’t feel like playing tonight.”
“What do you want to do?” He sat opposite her and sipped his tea.
“You mentioned something about a book of poems that was your mother’s. I don’t see any such book.” She indicated the bookshelves. “I kind of wanted to look up that poem you quoted.”
“It’s in my room. I’ll fetch it.”
Before he got to his feet, she caught his hand. “No. That’s fine. I don’t mean to intrude.”
“I don’t mind.” He truly didn’t. He hadn’t opened that book since he arrived at the ranch, and now, he wanted to remember his mother’s presence and hear her voice again.
Upstairs, he unearthed the book from the bottom of the wardrobe, on top of Pa’s Bible, and beside the two limp dolls. He set the dolls upright, but their heads drooped. Their posture tugged at a thread in his heart, one somehow connected to the pain of losing his sisters. If they wouldn’t sit, he’d lay them down. But that bothered him, so he sat them up and propped them side by side so their heads tipped toward each other and stayed in place.
Satisfied, he was downstairs again before he realized he’d brought Pa’s Bible as well as Ma’s book of verses. Too late now to put it back with the dolls.
The floorboards squeaking beneath his boots, he returned to the sitting room. “It’s chilly in here. I’ll light the fire.” He handed her the two books. “Feel free to browse through them.”
He took his time building the fire, watching her out of the corner of his eyes as she turned page after page on Ma’s book.
“I found it.” She read it aloud.
