Patience approached them, schooling her features into a pleasant expression. "Good morning. Is there anything I can do to help?"
Dinah glanced over at her, a bright smile lighting her face. As though there hadn’t just been a tense argument right here in her house. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
Patience dipped her chin. “I did. How can I help you here?”
Dinah turned to pour batter into a frying pan. “Would you set plates and forks on the table? These johnny cakes will be ready soon.”
"Of course." Patience moved to the shelf where the plates were kept. As she pulled them down, she searched for a way to broach her question. "I couldn't help overhearing the disagreement earlier. Is everything all right? The men sounded upset."
Dinah sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as she stirred a pot of oats over the fire. "Jericho heard a wildcat last night, so he went out to check the cattle this morning. I guess the herd got spooked and scattered. The boys are worriedabout them is all. And about Sampson too. Tempers can flare when folks are afraid for the people they love."
Love. The word echoed in her mind. The Coulter family seemed to truly care for one another, but love was not a concept she associated with men. At least not the men in her life. Her father'slove—if one could call it that—had been as hard and unyielding as his fists. And Michael...well, she'd mistaken his flattery and attention for love, only to discover too late the depths of his selfishness.
But Jonah had defended her honor just now. Stood up to his own brother for speaking ill of her. Perhaps there were different kinds of love in this world. Ones she had yet to understand.
“Lillian, would you get another bucket of water for us? We’ll need a second pot of coffee.” Dinah’s smooth voice had a calming effect that seemed to settle the tension that lingered in the room.
Lillian headed toward the door, pail in hand. As she stepped outside, the sound of a male voice drifted through the open door.
"Careful with that bucket, girl! I just had to make new handles for two of 'em, and now I know why they keep breaking." Miles' tone was sharp and critical.
Patience sucked in a breath and set the remaining plates on the table. He was the youngest of the Coulter brothers, but he'd likely witnessed this kind of berating behavior from the older men and thought it acceptable. Well, she would show him otherwise.
She strode purposefully to the door. She would give Miles a piece of her mind, even if she was a visitor here. But as she stepped out into the bright morning sunlight, she paused. Lillian stood straight and tall, the bucket hanging easily from her small hand as she stared Miles down with a defiant tilt to her chin.
"I know how to carry a bucket, Uncle Miles." Her voice wascalm but firm. "Mama taught me well. I'll thank you not to speak to me that way."
Miles blinked, taken aback by the young girl's self-assured response. He opened his mouth as if to retort, then seemed to think better of it. With a dismissive shake of his head, he turned on his heel and stalked toward the barn.
Pride swelled in Patience's chest as she watched Lillian march to the side of the house where the water wagon was parked, her blonde braid swinging with each determined step. The girl had a strength in her, a quiet resilience that Patience recognized all too well. It was the same fortitude that had seen her through countless hardships in her own life.
Lillian would need it, for men were all the same. Maybe Jonah was different, but she couldn’t stay here much longer and let Anna be subjected to the rest of the men here who couldn’t control their tempers.
Jonah paused in the kitchen doorway, a load of firewood filling one arm as he took in the sight before him.
Patsy and Lillian stood side by side at the cookstove, their heads bent together in concentration as Lillian showed Patsy how to adjust the damper. Golden light from the oil lamp cast a warm glow over their faces, making Patsy’s red hair shimmer enough to catch his breath. The sweet smell of cinnamon and sugar filled the air, which seemed just the right scent to surround Patsy. She sure was a pretty thing, with those rich green eyes.
He moved closer, and both ladies looked up. Patsy’s expression softened into a soft smile that looked like it was meant just for him. Maybe he was fooling himself, but every part of him came to lifewhen she was near.
Maybe he should’ve kissed her the other night by the woodshed. But that startled look in her eyes had clinched something inside him. Part of her might have wanted his kiss, but there was a piece in her that still hadn’t learned to trust him. So many men had let her down through the years, abusing her innocent trust, turning on her when she needed them most. He wouldn’t do the same to her, not for anything in the world.
He closed the distance to the kitchen area, and the women stepped away from the cookstove to give him access.
He added more wood to the firebox, causing a log inside to shift. Sparks tumbled out like a waterfall, and he jumped back as they scattered across the floor. He stomped on them, but a couple weren’t so easy extinguished
He’d seen how fast a fire could catch, and he wasn’t taking any chances.
A water bucket sat nearby, a cloth draped over the top. He jerked the fabric off so he could douse the sparks with water.
As he lifted the cloth, bright flames flared to life, hungrily licking at the fabric. One of the sparks must’ve popped up.
A scream sounded behind him.
No reason to panic. He had it under control. He dropped the cloth and stomped out the fire, but another spark had lit the braided rug.
He was about to dump the water onto it when he glanced inside, just to be sure.
Not water but grease!
