"I see, that must have been rough."
"It was. And still is." She commented.
"No children?" he asked.
"No."
"How long were you married?"
"A little over a year." She saidquietly.
She set the fried pork chops on the tablethen mashed the potatoes and brought them and the gravy. She pulledthe biscuits out of the oven and brought them with the butter alongwith a platter full of corn.
"Looks mighty good, ma'am. One thing adrifter can appreciate is a good meal." He said, then bowed hishead and before she knew what he was doing, he said grace.
She was startled but kind of pleased that hewas a God-fearing man. It would be easier to trust him, knowing hewas a man of God.
She bowed her head as he reached for herhand and held it as he said grace. She willed her hand not tosweat.
"That was nice," she smiled at him. "Thelast time I heard anyone pray over a meal was when I was fifteen,just a bit before my father died."
"So, how long ago did your husband die?" Heasked.
"Two days ago." She muttered quietly.
"Two days—"
"Yes, a Cougar got him out in the pasture.Took me most the night to find him and by then, he'd bled to death.I couldn't lift him on the mule, so I tied a rope on him and drughim home. He was already dead. But I never realized how doingsomething like that could be so hard."
"That's terrible." He frowned. "Don't yourneighbors ever help out?"
"Yes it was terrible." She said lowly. "Andno, my husband and I did all the work. He was a very hard worker.We don't really have many friends here. Like I said, he wasn't avery friendly sort. After I got him to the house, I rode my mule tomy neighbors, and they got the undertaker and Reverend for me."
After a long silence he asked. "How long youbeen out here?"
"A little over a year." She answered.
"Have you got some family you can go backto?" He asked as he buttered a biscuit and glanced at her.
"My mother died of childbirth when I wasten, and my dad the smallpox some time back." She told him.
"No brothers or sisters?"
"No, just me. My mother died at childbirth,and the baby died too."
"How about his folks, would they take youin, if need be?" he asked curiously.
"No Mr. Dolan," She looked up at him, "noone will take me in. I'm on my own, been on my own since I wasfifteen. I don't mind it so much, but the work is sometimesoverwhelming. Like now."
"Well ma'am, what are you gonna do?" heasked perplexed by her lack of fear for her future. "I mean if youdon't mind me asking."
"I'm gonna get my crops in."
"And the next year, what will you do?" heasked frustrated with that answer. "Who will plow the fields foryou, ma'am?"
"I guess I'll have to learn." She remarked."Or find somebody if you leave."
He seemed to study on that.
"You can't plow that much field, ma'am. It'sway too much for a woman to handle."
She put her fork down and stared at himstrangely, "Mr. Dolan, I'm doing good trying to figure out what todo now, much less next year. Maybe I'll sell the place. I'm nofarmer. I haven't figured everything out yet. But before I doanything I have to figure out where I'm going or whether I'll stayhere."
He saw the tears in her lovely eyes, tearsshe wouldn't let fall, and he stared into her face.
Secretly, she wished he weren't sohandsome.
"I’m sorry. It's none of my business ma'am,but it seems you need to be thinking along those lines."
"Mr. Dolan, I just lost my husband. And I'mdoing what I can to get these crops picked. But I have not had timeto think about what I'll do next." Her voice raised almost to thepoint of hysteria. "Just managing day to day chores is hard enoughfor me."
"My apologies ma'am." He said, his voicemellowing as he spoke.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so sharpwith you, but I'm well aware of my circumstances. I just haven'thad time to figure out what I should do. But I've been in a stateof shock since I drug my husband to the porch with the Mule andthen rode to my neighbors to get help. I don't have any answersyet." She told him and hung her head. "I'm just bone tired andhaven't been able to think straight yet."
The man frowned but didn't say another word.Then he wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin she gave him andadded, "Well, ma'am, I'll do all I can to help."
"Thank you."
Chapter Four
Wesley took the first big wagonload over toMr. Dickens the next day. He couldn't help but think about thelittle lady. They'd worked fairly well together even though she wasslower, she didn't give up the effort. He had to admire the factthat she didn’t complain, and she was so willing to help him.
Dickens was out by the hog pens when hedrove up. He came to greet him and invited him for some coffee.
Wesley came inside at the invite.
"Sure could use some." He smiled at the oldman.
"So, how is our Miss Kate doing?" He askedhim, as he poured them both a cup of coffee and put it on the tableas Wesley joined him.
"She sure did need the help. You weren'tkidding about that." He stared at how much sugar Dickens put intohis coffee, as he put four heaping teaspoons in it and stirred,Wesley shook his head. "What's wrong with this community."
"What do you mean?" Dickens asked looking athim curiously.
"She just lost her husband, got a load ofwork to do and it's only her. Why isn't anyone out there helpingher?"
Dickens smiled at Wesley, "I was wonderingif you was gonna ask that. Well, to tell the truth, most folksaround here don't know her too well. Her husband was a bad-temperedblow-hard of a man, no one liked him. He worked her like a mule.Because of that, Kate didn't socialize much either, as he kept apretty tight rein on her,
