“Is that why we had blackberry cobbler?”
“Yes.”
“Did you and Mindy make that today?”
“Yes, but the ice cream was store-bought. I only have so much time to cook.”
“But you enjoy cooking?”
“Yes. I wish I had more time to do that.”
“Which brings me to why I am here. I can give you more time to do those kinds of things. Will you marry me, Tory Alexander?”
The question hovered between them, its implication vibrating the air as though a hundred hummingbird wings beat against each other. She took a deep, fortifying breath and opened her mouth to reply. No words would come out. They lodged in her throat. Swallowing several times, she tried again. “First, we should talk about—” Still she couldn’t say what she needed to.
“About what?”
The mere thought flamed her cheeks. She palmed them, feeling the searing heat. “What kind of marriage will we have?”
A dawning light shone in his eyes. “Do you mean, will we have a real marriage in every sense of the word?”
Her heart paused in its frantic beating, then resumed its crash against her chest. Its thundering roar in her ears drowned out all other sounds. Perspiration beaded on her forehead. “Yes,” she finally said in a voice stronger than she thought possible.
He shifted so he fully faced her. “I hope so, but, Tory, you will call the shots. It will be up to you.”
She veiled her expression. She could accept those terms, but could he? What if she couldn’t ever take that step? What if—
No, she would deal with it one day at a time. The Lord would show her the way. She lifted her gaze to his. “Yes, I will marry you.”
* * *
Tory stood back from the one-story farmhouse and surveyed the freshly painted wood. White with hunter-green trim gleamed in the sunlight, rejuvenating the old structure. Even the swing and wicker furniture on the porch had been painted to match the trim. Turning toward the horse barn, she watched the three painters putting the finishing touches to its hunter-green trim. Then the fences would be painted white. Satisfaction and pride welled up in her.
Eight days ago she had accepted Slade’s proposal and the next day he’d had painters out here to discuss painting whatever needed to be done. The following day they’d started and had been working nonstop since then. Slade wanted the work done by the time of their wedding in four days. It would be close.
A blue Honda, at least ten years old, pulled into the drive leading to the house. She waited by the gravel road while the man parked and climbed from his vehicle. Approaching him, she extended her hand. “You must be Gus Morris.”
The older man with a full head of white hair pumped her arm. “Yes, ma’am. I sure am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Let’s talk while I show you the operation.” Tory started for the barn.
Gus, who was no more than two inches taller than Tory, fell into step next to her. “It looks like you’re sprucing up the place.”
“Yes.” Tory gestured for Gus to enter the barn first. “I have fifteen horses—five of them mine and one pony. I offer classes, usually in the afternoon. The people who stable their horses here come out and ride, some more than others. I make sure the horses are fed and taken care of each day.” Tory paused in the middle of the barn. “Also, I keep the stalls clean and keep an eye on the various horses. I’ll inform the owner if a problem is developing. As you saw, I have several riding rings and also paddocks and trails for people to use.”
“What will my duties be?”
“Cleaning out the stalls, feeding and watering the horses, keeping the tack in good shape. You’ll be assisting me with whatever needs to be done.”
“Hours?”
“From six in the morning until three in the afternoon. You’ll have an hour off for lunch.”
The short man grinned, his brown eyes twinkling. “As I told you over the phone, I miss my ranch. I miss working with horses. My kids wanted me to move here, but they neglected to give me anything to do. I found retirement isn’t for me.”
“Do you think you can manage the duties?” Tory took in Gus’s wiry frame.
“Been doing that kind of stuff all my life. Don’t you worry about me. I am all muscles, no fat. I’m in good health and driving my daughter bananas. She’s actually the one who saw the advertisement in the paper and showed it to me.”
“Then, Mr. Morris, you’ve got yourself a job and you can start tomorrow if you want.”
“Please, call me Gus. Mr. Morris just makes me seem older than I care to be.”
“Tor-ee—I’m—done.” Mindy came to the entrance of Belle’s stall, holding a curry comb in one hand, hay sticking to her T-shirt.
“Who’s this little lady?” Gus asked.
“This is my helper, Mindy. This is Gus, Mindy. He’ll be working here and helping us.”
Gus covered the distance between Mindy and himself in three strides. “Let me see what you’ve done.” He looked inside the stall and whistled. “That’s a mighty fine job, if I do say so myself.”
Mindy beamed. “Thanks! Belle—is—my—resp—” Her brow knitted as she glanced toward Tory.
“Responsibility,” Tory said for her.
“Belle is one lucky pony then.” Gus turned toward Tory. “I’ll be here tomorrow at six straight up.”
As the old man left, Mindy shut the stall door and made sure the latch was hooked, then she walked toward the tack room to put up her curry comb. “Dad-dy be here—soon?”
“Soon. But you’re staying for dinner again. Your father and I still have to talk about the wedding plans.”
“Four—days. Can’t—wait.”
“Ready to help me with dinner?”
Nodding, Mindy took Tory’s hand.
“I thought we would have hamburgers tonight. What do you think?”
“Yes.”
When a black Taurus headed toward her house, Tory stopped for a moment, trying to make out who was behind the wheel. Judy? She was early.
“Who’s—that?”
“My
