A Man for Glory Read online

  Glory spoke a short prayer of blessing on the food and the family; her words were sincere, obviously used often. It was plain she was not displaying company manners, only performing a ritual common to this table.

  After the children had chimed in on the “amen,” Cade spoke up. “After my pa died, my mama used to always pray before we ate, and then when my stepfather moved in, she said he should take his place in the house as man of the family and he always did it from then on.”

  The children were silent, and Essie cast Cade a wondering glance, as if she sought out the truth of his position in this house. Glory simply smiled, her comment mild, but much what he would have expected of her.

  “We’re always thankful for our meals, Mr. McAllister. I know we work hard growing much of the food, but we’re thankful for a place to put in a garden, and the rain that waters it for us, and a good well to take up the slack when the rain holds off too long. Sometimes we take turns saying a blessing. You’re welcome to take a turn if you like.”

  The children grinned, and Essie kicked Buddy’s ankle and snickered behind her hand, as if imagining the big man across the table doing such a thing. They’d only done it themselves at first to please Glory, for Pa had said that she ran the kitchen, since she cooked the meals, and they must do as she said.

  “I’ll take the job for supper at night, since I’m planning on being here—for a good while, anyway,” Cade said, tossing a look of satisfaction at Glory. He pushed his plate away, the surface of it almost as clean as it had been when it came fresh from the cupboard shelf. “Good breakfast, ma’am.”

  “Thank you, sir. Now, if you’ll put the dirty dishes in the sink, I’ll take a few minutes to braid Essie’s hair for her.” The child moved to stand in front of Glory and in moments the braid was formed and Glory dropped a quick kiss on the smooth cheek as Essie whispered her thanks.

  The child ran out the back door, calling for her brother as she went. Buddy left the table to run after Essie, and Glory’s eyes touched the man who had cleared the table in barely a minute. His eyebrow twitched and a grin tilted the corner of his lips as he returned her appraising look.

  As if he could see within her, his gaze narrowed and his dark eyes glowed. She felt a twinge of uneasiness, wondering at his thoughts. And then he answered her unspoken question before it could be asked.

  “We’ll work it out, you and me,” he said softly, his eyes warm on her face.

  “I told you, Mr. McAllister, I don’t know if I’m ready for what you want.”

  “Well, the first thing you might do to prepare yourself is forget the Mr. McAllister thing and remember that my name is Cade. After all, I’m the lucky man you’re going to be living with, one way or another.”

  She looked up at him and her smile was quick, deepening the dimples that dented her cheeks. “You’ve got a slick way of putting things, McAllister, quite a line of blarney. It sounds to me like you’ve got things all arranged in your mind.”

  He chuckled at her words. “Blarney, is it? You’re sounding like a colleen from the old country, Glory.”

  She cast him a flirting glance. “I suspect I come by it honestly, Cade. My father came over on a boat from Ireland, met my mother in New York, who was fresh from England herself, and married her. I suppose I picked up a bit of his way of talking. I catch myself once in a while thinking in my mind, using his words.”

  “I thought as much. There’s just a hint of Irish in your speech, not a lot, but enough to tease me as I listen. And your eyes are like the black Irish. They go with your dark hair.”

  “My father was dark haired and blue eyed. I suppose I take after him, for my mother was fair.”

  He hesitated for a moment and then pursued the point. “Would I be out of line if I asked about your parents? Are they still alive or have you lost them?”

  “I know where they are, for all the good it does me. I helped bury them both along the trail near Wichita when a good many on the wagon train sickened with diptheria. So many died in those few days. When my mother sickened, she sent me to a neighboring wagon and I wasn’t allowed near my parents again. After they died, the wagon was burned and everything in it, and my parents were buried, along with a dozen or so others who didn’t make it.”

  She spoke in a low voice, the words almost cold, as if she’d placed them so far back in her memory they were in a box named the past.

  “You’re all alone in the world, then,” he asked quietly. “No brothers or sisters?”

  “No, there was only ever me. Mama didn’t have any more babies. But I’m not alone in the world. I have Buddy and Essie. They’re my family. Harvey Clark gave them to me the day I moved into his house. They’re mine like a small sister and brother would be, almost my own kin.”

  “You’ve done a fine job raising them, Glory. Buddy is a strong boy, seems honest and upright. And Essie is a real sweetheart.”

  “She’s a good girl, is what she is. And Buddy will own this place when he’s grown and he’ll farm it like his daddy. And Essie will learn to wash clothes and tend to women’s work. Like scrubbing out a load of clothes before breakfast.”

  She left the kitchen then, stepping off the porch, bypassing the farm wagon parked near the house, to where a wash basket sat beneath clotheslines.

  She reached into the laundry basket and pulled out a pair of denim pants. Glory snapped them in the air and hung them by the back of the waist, leaving the wind room to blow the legs dry. Three more pair of trousers followed, two of Buddy’s and another worn pair, probably left from the children’s father. Several shirts followed them onto the line and then Glory lifted the empty basket and placed it on the porch.

  She bent to pick up the long pole that would prop the line high, catching the rope between the two nails on top, then standing it upright to allow the breeze access to the clothes that began to billow at the wind’s bidding.

  She looked up at the line, satisfied with her early morning’s work. Tomorrow she would strip the sheets from the beds. Or perhaps the next day, depending on the weather. If it should rain, she would bake bread and churn butter, sweep the parlor and tidy up the bedrooms a bit.

  Being settled in a place she could call home was a fine thing, she’d decided three years ago when she’d first come here to live. No one kept an eye on what she did, so she’d done what she pleased, and Harvey Clark had kept his peace, satisfied with the clean house and well-cooked food on his table.

  This Cade McAllister looked to be a different kettle of fish. And yet, she felt a bit warmed by his wanting to look out for her. She prided herself on her ability to tend to things on her own, but maybe it would be nice to have someone around who might seek her comfort once in a while. Harvey had been a good man, but they’d lived in two separate worlds, him in the fields and the outbuildings, her in the house and garden. He’d expected her to hold up her end of the bargain they’d struck that first day, and she had done her best.

  Cade spoke then. “I was thinking, if there were a fence around the pasture, it would eliminate a lot of hassle, what with staking the animals,” he suggested.

  “Harvey said he wanted to put up a fence, but he was saving up for it,” Glory answered, looking up from the table where she sat, writing sums, a schoolbook in hand.

  “Maybe we could do it now, get the fencing from the lumberyard and enough posts to do the job.”

  “I haven’t the money for it,” Glory said defensively.

  “I have. And I don’t mind doing the work. It’ll be better in the long run if the animals are free to graze the whole pasture.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t put a lot of money into the place until we decide …” Her voice trailed off as Glory looked beseechingly at Cade.

  He smiled, a look of understanding etching his features. “We’ll talk later, then. And in the meantime, I’ll take a look at what’s out there.” She nodded her agreement.

  Cade left the kitchen, stepping down from the porch, ducking to avoid the clothesline as he h
eaded for the barn. In mere moments he’d gone out the back door and come back into view, walking along the fence line of the corral, a hammer hanging from his belt, a sack of what looked to be nails in his hand. He was checking out the wire to see if it was loosened anywhere, she suspected. One look at Cade McAllister and she’d have sworn he wasn’t a farmer, yet there he was out walking the fence line and tending to the stock.

  And she was lollygagging around paying mind to him instead of the work that awaited her in the house. She put away the schoolwork she was planning for Essie later on, folding the paper neatly and setting it aside.

  She carried her empty basket to the clothesline, her mind busy with thinking of the dinner she was expected to have on the table at noontime. Taking the clothes from the line, she folded them loosely as she went, shaking out wrinkles and smoothing the fabric as she bent over the basket. A bit of care now made the ironing easier, she’d found. And the overalls would do as they were, only the shirts needing the touch of an iron.

  The children were waiting for her, their chairs pulled up to the kitchen table, their books and papers neatly sorted. Essie was busy writing on her chalkboard. Buddy’s nose was in a book, for he craved reading.

  “I wrote a page of numbers for you to work on, Essie,” she told the girl.

  Essie grinned up at her. “I’m about done with them already,” the child answered, finishing up a number nine with a flourish. “I added those you wrote down and did a whole line of take-aways on the bottom, just like you said I should yesterday.”

  Glory had a habit of writing out Essie’s numbers to be added and subtracted every day right after breakfast and left them for Essie to work on. Now she bent over the table to check the little girl’s adding and subtracting.

  “You did it just right, Essie. I’m proud of you. I’ll have to give you harder ones tomorrow. You’re almost as good as your brother.”

  Buddy shot a conspirator’s look at Glory, obviously secure in his advanced knowledge and willing to concede a bit to his little sister. “This here is a good book, Glory. It’s about the country of France and the people rebelling.”

  “Is it one the teacher sent?” she asked

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s called A Tale of Two Cities. A man named Charles Dickens wrote it.”

  “I’m proud of you, Buddy. You’ll be more than caught up with the rest of the children your age when you go to school in town after the harvest. You read as well as I do already. After you finish that book I want you to write a report on it for me.”

  His forehead wrinkled. “What sort of report, Glory?”

  “We’ll call it a book report. You can decide what you’ve learned from the story and what it meant to you. You’ll have to name the main people in it and tell what happened to them. It’ll help you get ready for writing such things in school. And it’ll be something for us to show the teacher when you start your first day. Kinda let her see what you can do, so she’ll know which grade to put you in.”

  He seemed to be agreeable to the idea and turned a page in his book, in moments deeply involved once more in the story he’d been reading. Glory watched for a moment, pride alive in her heart for what this boy had accomplished, satisfaction filling her depths because she had had a part in bringing him to this point. And sadness that she had done all it was possible for her to do for him. He needed schooling, more than she could give him, no matter how hard she tried.

  And now, with the presence of Cade McAllister in their lives, perhaps she could find the way to do right by the boy.

  Chapter Four

  “Why don’t you take your book to the parlor to read, Buddy. And you can put away your slate and chalk, Essie. I’ve got to be getting dinner ready. Cade will be hungry, what with working on the fencing all morning.”

  If the eager look on Cade’s face was anything to go by, he was more than ready for dinner when he came through the back door less than an hour later. Glory was alone in the kitchen, mixing dumplings in a bowl to put atop the beef stew she’d readied.

  “How’d you get that cooked so quick?” Cade asked, leaning over her shoulder to peer into the kettle simmering on the back of the stove.

  “I had beef canned up from a side Mr. Clark bought from the neighbor, Mr. Bradley, last fall. I only had to add a Mason jar of vegetables to it and heat it up good. I’ll put dumplings on top in just a minute and cover it tight. We’ll be ready to eat in about twenty minutes.”

  She cast him a dark look, hands on her hips. “At least we’ll be ready to eat if you get yourself out of my way so I can get these dumplings on the stew.”

  He laughed and backed away from the iron range, the sound of his humor a bit rusty as if he hadn’t found much to amuse him of late. He watched her from his stance by the table, and when she’d completed her task and then clapped a cover on the bubbling stew where dumplings floated on top, she turned to him.

  “You spend a lot of time keeping an eye on me, McAllister.”

  “Not near as much as I plan to in the future, Miss Glory. And that’s something else we have to get straight.” His jaw set and a stubborn gleam warned her that the man was putting on his cloak of arrogance again.

  “I agree with what you said about Mr. Clark. I feel the same way he did. It looks to me like I’ll be here for a good while and I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be living here without us being married. The people in town will be talking about you. And that’s something we don’t want happening. Buddy and Essie don’t need any bit of gossip going on about you.”

  “Can we talk about that later on?” Glory asked quietly. “Maybe tonight?”

  Cade nodded a reply, apparently willing to do as she asked. “I want to tell you something I’m thinking about, Glory. I’m going to look at horses at your neighbor’s place later on. He’s got a fine crop of mares and foals in his fields, and a number of mares about ready to drop their foals. I’d like to make a deal with him.”

  “There’s no money available for new horses,” she said firmly.

  His grin was quick. “That’s where you’re wrong, ma’am. I’ve got more than a bit put aside and if the fella is reasonable, I think I can make a deal with him.”

  “You’re going to invest in my farm?” Her look was skeptical.

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. I can’t make a success of this place without putting money into it.”

  “And will that make it yours? When you’ve invested in it? Are you planning on the deed being in your name?”

  “Not now, Glory. We’ve got other things to be concerned about. Just know that as long as you and the children live, this place is your home. Nothing I ever do will change that. We’ll be partners here, all four of us and any more young’uns who might happen along to join us once we get married. Buddy will someday own this place, just as his father planned for. But in the meantime, you and I have to come to an agreement.

  “We need to talk about this marriage thing. Like I said before, I don’t want the folks hereabouts talking about you or spreading gossip.”

  “Why worry about my good name? Won’t they gossip about you, too?” she asked, tilting her chin and glaring at him, her heart pumping rapidly from the anger he seemed to inspire in her.

  “Women always manage to be the topic of gossip, Glory. Men can get away with most anything, but the woman ends up paying the piper. You know that as well as I do.”

  “I haven’t done anything wrong, Cade. I think the folks in town consider me to be a decent woman.”

  “You’re certainly that, Glory. But you’re a good-looking woman, too, and I won’t have you being the topic for folks’ gossip. We can fix the problem easily with a marriage between us. I’ve done a lot of traveling around over the past few years, and most of the time I’ve been looking for a place to settle.

  “I wonder if it wasn’t the hand of fate that led me here to this town. It was almost like hearing about you from the sheriff and him bringing me out here to meet you was meant to b
e. I know you came as a surprise to me, for I certainly wasn’t looking to find such a perfect spot to settle, with a couple of young’uns and a pretty woman living here. Getting married just seems like a good idea, Glory. For I’ll admit I’m attracted to you in a mighty way. I’m hoping you’ll agree with me, for it seems like the time is right for us to do this.”

  “I’ve often wondered myself how I came to knock at the back door here that day over three years ago,” she said. And then she looked up at Cade, her eyes shiny with a glaze of tears.

  “I decided that sometimes we don’t need to know everything ahead of time, Cade. Sometimes things just work out right for us if we do our best and make our own way in life. It was right for me to marry Mr. Clark and care for his children three years ago. Maybe it’s right for me to marry you now and let you take over with caring for the three of us. We sure could use a man’s strong arms to do the heavy work here. Some days I get mighty weary, Cade. And lonesome, too, to tell the truth. I don’t know about attraction, like you said a few minutes ago. But I like you and I think you being here would be good for the children, especially Buddy. But just so you know, I’m not much for fancy love words or flirtin’, if you know what I mean.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that sort of thing, Glory. As long as we like each other, we’ll have a good beginning. I hope you’re at least pondering marriage. I know you’ve been unsure of it, but I’d like to think you’ve kinda made a decision today, looking at the future with us a married couple, making a family here. You’re a woman needing a man to tend to things and I sure won’t mind doing that very thing. Living with you won’t be a hardship for me, Glory.”

  He stepped closer to where she stood and his arm slid around her shoulders, tugging her closer to him. His other hand moved slowly to rest against her waist, and for a moment she felt enclosed, captured by his big body in front of her, the stove behind. She tilted her head back, and without a pause he bent to her, his mouth touching hers carefully, brushing the tender flesh with a kiss of promise. His words were a whisper.