time every day chasing the cow and bringing her home.
The girls came readily enough, but Frank and Robbie stared toward the hill, no doubt curious about Tanner’s horses. She hadn’t seen them or his pen, but Robbie had provided a detailed description. She knew the place where he held the horses. Before Jim’s death, she’d loved wandering across the hills, finding wildflowers, watching hawks soar overhead and enjoying nature. She’d always felt close to God out there. She missed those times alone.
“Come on, boys.”
The pair had an animated discussion before they trotted toward her. She was certain the topic of their conversation was the wild horses. Robbie had talked of nothing else since Tanner had brought him back yesterday.
When they joined her, she caught Robbie’s chin and turned his face to her. “Robbie, I don’t want you going to see those horses. They’re dangerous. Besides, you shouldn’t be wandering about on your own. Something might happen.” Tanner had given no indication as to when he’d bring the horses to the corrals; nor when he’d turn his hand to planting the crop. She certainly had no intention of suggesting he should do it sooner rather than later, if she even saw him again. What was to stop him from riding in and out without acknowledging either her or their agreement?
She was getting suspicious. There was no point in blaming Aunt Ada for making her that way, even though the woman had assured Jim she’d give Susanne a good and loving home and she’d done quite the opposite. The experience had made Susanne cautious and more than a little suspicious of seemingly kind offers.
But that was in the past and she did not intend it to color her whole life.
“Yes, Auntie Susanne,” Robbie said.
With a kiss to his forehead, she released him. Each day he promised not to wander, but she knew he’d forget it if the urge hit him. So every day she reminded him again. Despite her frustration, she smiled at him and his siblings.
Each of the children handled the loss of their parents in different ways. Robbie wandered. Frank tried too hard to be a man. Liz looked for ways to make things go smoothly. Janie got lost in her dreams. Susanne often found her up a tree or tucked into a corner almost hidden from view talking to her doll.
And what did Susanne do? she asked herself.
She tried to take care of the work.
As she twisted wire together and tacked it to the wobbly post, she tried not to think too hard of all she’d lost. First her parents, then Alice and Jim. It was enough to make her certain she would never let herself care for another soul apart from these children, for fear of more loss. It was a strange world. Those who loved her died, while those who would use her to their own advantage lived to do so.
Never again, she vowed. She’d see to that.
She sought a more pleasant topic for her thoughts and settled on the diamond brooch Jim had given to her. It used to be their mother’s and before that, her mother’s. She and Jim had laughed together knowing the little stone in the setting was likely only glass. It didn’t matter. It represented their mother.
“You can hand it down to your eldest daughter,” he’d said.
She’d laughed. “What makes you think I’ll get married?”
He’d squeezed her shoulder. “You’re beautiful. You’ll have dozens of suitors calling.”
At the time, she’d been moved by his praise. Not since her parents died had she felt so blessed. But now it didn’t matter if she was beautiful or not. She’d not have suitors calling once they heard she had four children to raise as her own. She certainly didn’t count Alfred Morris. He was more of a dictator than a suitor. A man who wanted to own her. She knew he would constantly remind her how much she owed him for giving her a fine home.
She’d had enough of that.
And it wasn’t as if she’d have time for courting.
She’d thought a time or two of selling the brooch. But it was the only physical reminder she had of her mother and wasn’t worth a lot in the way of money. The diamond—if it was such—was so small she could barely see it. Instead, she’d trusted God to lead her to another way to manage.
She’d certainly not considered trading the corrals for seeding the crop and would still refuse if the good Lord would provide another way. Please, God, perhaps there’s an old married man who would work for a crop share. Straightening, she squinted toward the trail that led to town in the hopes of seeing a wagon headed her way. The breeze lifted a swirl of dust but nothing more. Seems that prayer was not to be answered at the moment. Anytime soon would do, Lord. She turned back to the fence.
A few minutes later, she twisted the last wire and straightened. “That should hold.”
“Can we go play now?” Robbie asked.
“Yes, you may.” She remained at the fence as they scampered off in various directions. “Don’t wander away,” she thought to call.
Alone for a few minutes and everything momentarily peaceful, she looked about and breathed deeply. She needed this time to think and pray. Father God, please help me keep the children. That means a way to do the farm work as well as time to tend to the children’s needs. Of course, God didn’t need the constant reminding, but she knew no other way to set her worries aside.
She could not linger, and hurried toward the house and the many tasks at hand.
The milk cow trotted away as she neared the yard and headed straight for the hole Susanne had just fixed. Seeing her way blocked, the cow mooed and shook her head.
“Too bad, old girl, you’ll have to stay in your pasture from now on.” Susanne entered the house and found Liz and Janie sitting at the table.
“Can we eat now?” Liz asked. “We’re hungry.”
Susanna didn’t need to look at the clock over the doorway to the living room to know the morning was almost gone and she’d accomplished so little. Being every bit as hungry as the children, she pulled out a frying pan, wiped it clean and set it on the stove to heat while she cut the leftover potatoes. Once they were browned, she broke in eggs. What did it matter if it was only eleven o’clock?
“Call your brothers and we’ll have dinner.”
When the boys clattered through the door, she told them to wash up.
She smiled at the way they bumped into each other. Two boys full of energy and playfulness. Guilt stung her throat. When Jim was alive, he’d romped with them, and she’d played quiet games with them. But it had been weeks since she’d had time to play with any of them.
Susanne put the pan in the middle of the table and looked at Liz and Janie on one side, Frank and Robbie on the other. Her gaze lingered on the vacant spot at the end where Jim used to sit. She swallowed hard, missing him yet feeling blessed by the presence of the children. “Let us pray.” Her voice caught on the words.
The children obediently clasped their hands together under their chins and bowed their heads.
“Lord, we are so blessed to have each other and to have food to eat. Thank You. Amen.”
“Amen!” Frank added with so much enthusiasm that Susanne chuckled.
“It’s not like you’ve been starving to death.” She again felt a sting of guilt. Her meals were simple fare. She lacked time for anything else.
She really should do more cooking. Make bread again. It was weeks since they’d had anything but biscuits and fry cakes. Not that both weren’t perfectly adequate. Just as fried potatoes and eggs were perfectly fine for a meal. Perhaps not day after day, an inner voice suggested. Susanne promised herself she’d do better...once she got the work on the farm taken care of.
“Robbie, slow down.” The child ate as if it was a race.
Frank spoke slowly. “I’m glad Tanner is going to bring his horses