Kayla raised her tweezers again. “If you’d hold still, this might be easier on you,” she snapped, and yanked another porcupine quill from his arm. “How did this even happen, Loren?”

Kayla’s stepbrother Loren grumbled, running a hand over his face as she pulled the second to last quill. “I reached behind a bush.”

Kayla snickered, pulling out the last quill. “Did ya like whatcha found?”

Loren scowled. “Quiet, woman—and get to work.”

“I’m done,” Kayla replied.

“Oh, come on Loren,” one of his men hollered. “Why did you reach behind that bush?”

Loren rounded on her. The slap across her face caught her by surprise, and she yelped. She found herself on the ground, her hand to her cheek.

I think I hate him, she thought. I can’t wait for this new job. I want to earn my own way, and be rid of him. This is not what family does.

The men returned from seeing to the horses, and gathered nearby. Kayla got off the ground, nursing her face, and sucking on the split in her lip. She brushed the dirt off her tattered dress, sitting back down on the log. With a stick, Loren drew his plan in the sandy dirt.

They were going to rustle two hundred head of cattle off the Circle 8 ranch. In fact, they were on the Circle 8’s land now. Kayla didn’t like the idea of thieving because she didn’t want to be swinging. At nineteen, she had much to live for. Besides, this wasn’t the plan Loren told her.

“Wait! This wasn’t what I signed up for. You said no thievin’!” Kayla’s panicked voice boomed. “I don’t want to swing.”

No one listened. She begged her stepbrother not to steal, that there was always honest work. Loren would not be swayed.

“You want a ranch, Kay,” he snapped, “this is the only way.”

“You’re a far-gone idiot!” Kayla snapped.

That earned her another smack. Holding her smarting cheek, she glared at him. She didn’t say anything else. Loren and his four men saddled up their tired mounts.

“Let’s go,” Loren said.

Kayla bit the inside of her lip. She got off the ground, facing off with her stepbrother. “Loren you can’t be serious. Thievin’ is illegal. You’ll swing.”

“No, I won’t,” he said.

Looming menacingly over her, he said, “Sister, step aside.” Kayla went to kick him where it hurts, but someone swept her feet out from under her. Loren stood over her, lashing her hands together while another man pulled at her hair so she wouldn’t move. Loren dragged her by her tied hands to a tree. With another rope, he lashed her back to it, tying the rope tight around her stomach.

“Loren!” Kayla shrieked, feeling a stub of a tree branch smash her shoulder, “let me go!”

Loren tossed another man a smaller rope, tying her feet. Loren came up behind her, stuffing a gag down her throat. He patted the side of her face. “Can’t have you ruinin’ the plans. I would rather just kill ya,” he sneered, spittin on her dress. “Seein’ how yer family, I’ll be nice this once.”

Kayla thrashed around like a trout she snagged from the water only hours before. Loren kicked her in the gut. Mouth agape, she sucked in a breath. She hadn’t a clue they would do this to her, that this was Loren’s plan for her. The other men treated her well, or close to it. Most ignored her if it wasn’t meal time. Still, the pain her blood would do this, cut deep. Loren was all the family she had left in this world.

Kayla opened her mouth to say something, but was met with a slap.

“Hush yer ugly face!” he hollered. “Give us away, and I will kill ya!”

Kayla inhaled sharply through her nose, breathing in the sagebrush and dirt. This was not how she expected the night to turn. This was not the brother whom she grew up with. How did life get so out of hand? Why did her once, nice, successful brother turn to liquor, gambling, and stealing?

Kayla yelled through her gag to stop. Her head swished back, and forth, trying to work the cloth out of her mouth.

“To the Circle 8,” Loren shouted, mounting his gelding.

“To jail,” a man came stepping out of the shadows. “Raise’em high,” the man commanded.

Kayla thought if her eyes could go any wider, they would pop out of her face. Six men came out of the shadows, surrounding her stepbrother’s posse. Loren’s face twisted, his eyes darkening with the evil now consuming him.

“You bitch!” he sneered at Kayla, drawing his pistol.

Kayla scrunched her face, turning her head away. She couldn’t make herself seem smaller if she tried. The raucous of the bullet passing through the chamber of his .45 resounded in her mind over and over. The gag muffled her scream as the bullet hit her leg. Tears streamed from her eyes. The hot metal burned. She dared not look, focusing her bleary eyes on the people who’d come to inadvertently save her.

The man who hollered the warning to raise their hands, shot Loren off his horse. Kayla heard him exhale; his body hit the dirt. Without having to look, she knew her stepbrother was dead. Kayla prayed for his soul, asking God to forgive Loren of his wayward ways, and his soul, for he wasn’t always this way. Loren taught her to ride, and would give her wildflowers when he found them. As she thought about it, she prayed for herself too. Certainly, she would be swinging soon enough.

Blood soaked through her dress all the way to the hems. Her eyes made tears all on their own. Her mind twinkled like the stars in the Texas sky, soon fading to black.

During the morning Ben rode fence, checking along the west section of the property to move the herd to, when he spotted rustlers on the edge of the Circle 8. He watched the party come in, and make camp. How they hadn't spotted him, Ben didn’t know. Looking around, there wasn’t much to hide a saddled horse, and grown man.

The Circle 8 had its fair share of thieves since they were the biggest cattle ranch on the east side of San Antonio, and the San Antonio River. For some darn reason, thieves thought entering from the most brushy, rocky, and snake invested area, was the most concealing.

Maybe if they were rattlers, he chuckled.

Ben, and his hired hands spent the better part of the evening, cleaning guns, and preparing to take on the rustlers. Ben sent George to town to tip off the sheriff about the planned rustling. Sheriff Taylor, was set to be here an hour ago. The sheriff did not yet show.

No matter, Ben shrugged, facing the posse of thieves, the rustlers would be taken in, charged, and hung.

The night's brand of quiet seemed deafening after two consecutive gunshots with one rustler dead in the dirt. Ben held his breath, observing the remaining outlaws. The rustlers stared back at him, wide eyed. One reached for the shotgun in the saddle holster.

“Throw down your guns,” Ben commanded, pointing his gun at the man reaching for the shotgun. “No funny ideas or I will shoot you dead like your friend there. Roy,” Ben hollered. “Gather the guns. George, tie their hands.”

Now, he had one dead thief, four on horses, and a woman to worry about. Ben ran a hand over his face. He overheard the woman arguing, wanting nothing to do with the rustling. She wasn’t going to hang for a crime she didn’t, and seemingly wasn't going to, commit. Although she could get in trouble for being a part of the group. However, it wasn’t for him to decide her punishment, it was his father’s since the sheriff still didn’t show.

One by one, the men tossed their guns to the ground. Roy gathered them out of their reach, stacking them in a neat pile to be retrieved later. George took each man off his mount, tying their hands behind their backs, and lashing their feet together, leaving enough room for shuffling back to the bunkhouse. Ben’s four other cow hands trained their guns on the outlaws. The sheriff should be here soon.

“The woman,” one of the rustlers choked on his words. “Her name is Kayla.”

Ben didn’t move from his spot. “She will get help,” Ben assured.

“She didn’t deserve that,” he stated, shaking his head. “Nor her getting struck with a bullet. I’m a coward of a man.”

Ben scoffed. “Feelin’ poorly for a woman won’t save your hide now.”

The man shrugged, not appearing any more rattled than before he started to speak, “I know that.”

“What’s your name?” Ben asked.

“Joshua Jackson from Omaha.”

Ben nodded. “Kayla will get help then her punishment decided.”

Joshua tipped his head back, looking at the stars. “Lord help her,” he said. “It’s too late for me though.”

Curious against his better judgement, Ben approached the man. “Why did you do it?”

“My sister, Leah, she’s blind. I was gunna send her money for blind school.”

Ben didn’t say a word. Thieving was thieving. And the punishment for it was hanging. Ben couldn’t do much for the man now. He was caught red handed.

“All tied boss,” Roy said. “What about her?”

Ben sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess we ought to fetch Doc Collins.”

Roy clapped him on the back. “I’ll go.”

Ben nodded. “Bring him to the Circle 8.”

Ben holstered his pistol. He got all the men to their feet, taking a long rope and tying them all together. It was clear as dawn the sheriff wasn’t coming out tonight, so he should take them to the sheriff himself. He told Garrett to leave the dead man where he was. The facially-pocked-puke of a man didn’t deserve a burial. He'd come out later to remove the body. Didn't need it ruining good grazing land. Ben got on his horse, leading the way to San Antonio.

“George, collect the guns and take her back to the Circle 8,” Ben yelled over his shoulder.

The young man, little more than a boy, nodded, carefully gathering the dark-haired Kayla in his arms. Her pallid color reflecting in the firelight. The dark wetness of blood seeped through her ruined dress and trickled down her leg.

Ben peeked at the sky. The moon waned over to the west. “Stupid girl,” Ben mumbled, tugging the gang of rustler’s along.

The smell of flapjacks tickled her nose. Kayla’s stomach rumbled. Light struck her behind her closed eyes. Kayla groaned at the pounding in her head. She used the heels of her hands to rub the sleep out of her eyes. It felt like she’d been struck by a raging bull.

Her vision bleared. The smells of food and cleanliness assuaged her senses, feeling different and out of place. Was she dead? Was she already hung, dead and in heaven?

Kayla slowly sat up, her surroundings becoming clearer with each blink. “What in the world?”

The lower half of her dress from thigh to hems, was caked in dried blood. It was a stain she was certain would never come out. And the hole from the bullet would be hard to repair. She pulled up her dress, looking at her left thigh where she was shot. Glancing about the room, there were no bars to lock her inside like she thought there'd be. Come to think of it, while plain, this was a far nicer room than any jail cell she could imagine.

Where are the others, Kayla thought.

Kayla gulped, wondering why she wasn’t joining them on the tree. A few tears trickled down her cheeks. She, by all counts, should be dead too. It didn’t matter if she assumed they’d all been hired to work on a ranch. She was with the thieves. She was connected to the rustlers.

Rustlers.

Somehow, Loren kept that part from her. And she was stupidly blind enough to follow along, thinking, more like hoping, her brother changed from being an alcoholic and back into the sweet, intelligent person she remembered as a child.

By lordy, was she wrong! She snorted in disgust, crossing her arms over her chest. She turned a blind eye to who Loren really was, who he turned out to be, hoping her kindness would bring back the brother she remembered.

Kayla dried her eyes. She inhaled deeply. “Hello,” she hollered out the open door, boldly gathering her courage. “Are you here to string me up too?”

A tall man entered the doorway, leaning his muscled body against the rough-cut frame. He stared at her with piercing bright blue eyes. If she dared to compare, they were brighter than the Texas sky. A long scar trailed the side of his face from right cheekbone to lip. Kayla glanced at it a brief moment before studying the rest of him. The man who faced her was clearly a cowhand. Rough, cracked hands, crossed over his arms. His dirt stained green shirt, brought out more of his beautiful eyes, and his sun-tanned skin. Lips pressed together tightly, his hawk like gaze narrowed.

Her heart pounded in her throat. She pushed her hair off to the side. “So,” Kayla began with a level tone and false bravado, “what do you plan on doin’ with me?”

His heavy booted strides echoed in the room. He pulled up a chair by the door, flipping it around. His broad arms resting on the back of the chair. “What were you doin’ with them?” he asked, matching her tone.

Kayla licked her cracked lips, the bravado leaving her. “I thought we got hired at a ranch.”

“Hired on as what exactly?”

Kayla shrugged. “A cook, maid, another cowhand.”

The man laughed. “A woman as a cowhand?” he shook his head. “And rattlesnakes fly.”

Kayla scowled. “I am not afraid of hard work. I can do it.”

“You can steal it, you mean,” he growled.

Kayla shook her head refusing to lower her eyes. “No sir, work. I hadn't the slightest what they were plannin’. I might be poorer than dirt, but I work for myself. Stealin’ is a sin.”

“Damn right it is,” the man said. “You should be swinging with the rest of them. Fact is, I overheard you try to talk them out of it. That alone saved your hide.”

Kayla nodded. Her gut clenched for those who swung, like Joshua. He was a nice man, dull as a knife though, but he treated her kindly when Loren wasn’t paying her heed. It saddened her Loren was with the good Lord. While the others made their beds and were now, more than likely, lying six feet under - God rest their souls - she got lucky. Relief coursed through her. She closed her eyes to hide her selfish relief at being alive. If she would’ve known what Loren was planning all along, she wouldn’t have come with him. She wouldn’t have left Oklahoma. Now, she was going to be stuck here, or joining her stepbrother shortly.

“I owe you a debt,” Kayla said, understanding her predicament. “What do I need to do?”

The man’s chair screeched back. “If you can oblige it, stand, and walk with me to the dining room.”

Kayla moved her feet to the wooden floor, her shoes still on. She sucked in a breath, readying herself to stand. Kayla stood straight, feeling the ache in her leg. She took a step, and hissed, her wound throbbing as she walked. Her left thigh burned, but she didn’t feel her stitches tear. Kayla gritted her teeth, pushing back the tears threatening to fall.

“My name is Kayla Langmoore,” she stated.

The man stared at her. The boldness from earlier did not work in her favor, so she quit that. Being herself might earn her some kindness in return.

The man reached out, putting a steadying hand under her arm. “My name is Benjamin Coleman.”

Kayla smiled tentatively. “Wish I met you under better circumstances, but here we are.”

Inside, she cursed herself for being rather forward. Then again, a duck can’t change itself to a hawk. She was blunt like the winters were cold. She stumbled over her own feet.

Ben raised his brows, giving a lopsided grin. “You all right?” Ben asked.

Kayla nodded. “Right as rain.”

Ben chuckled sarcastically, “Your face tells a different story.”

Kayla looked at him. “Then don’t look at my face.” she said, making it to the doorway. She paused, leaning up against it, taking a fortifying breath, she steeled herself to walk farther.

“Where are you from?”

“Was from Oklahoma,” Kayla began, “Ma moved us to Omaha. She married and died there, so I went back to Oklahoma to be with my grandparents. They died too. I was in the orphanage there for a bit. Got out, and worked at the Hitchin’ Post Dining Hotel as a cook. My stepbrother Loren found me, and said he got us a job. Now, here I am.”

“I didn’t ask for your life story,” Ben said with an exasperated chuckle.

Kayla shrugged, grinning slightly, “Sooner or later you would have. Better to spill it now.”

“You sure are a blunt woman.”

Kayla shrugged again moving off the door frame and into the larger room. “Better than a lyin’ one.”

Ben gestured for her to take a seat at the dining room table. Kayla sat in the nearby wooden chair. Her thigh throbbed. Kayla rubbed it, hoping to not feel fresh blood on her bandages.

Staring at her leg, got her to pondering on Loren. She missed her brother, well, who he used to be. She didn’t care for who he turned out to be. Part of her felt relieved he was gone. He couldn’t strike her, nor the other willing women he took to his bed. The other part of her was saddened this was where his life led him. Selfishly, she was grateful to still have hers.

With a sigh of relief, Kayla glanced to the left. Ben squatted in front of a small fire, pouring coffee into a tin cup. He set it down in front of her. Ben sat across the table. Kayla took it, sipping the bitter blackness she’d seen so many men love. Kayla choked on it, sucking in a breath after she swallowed.

“Tastes like death,” she complained, “why do you men like this?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, “Same as you women like fancy ribbon.”

Kayla laughed, relieved he made a joke. She sipped the coffee again, grimacing, “So what do you want me to do?”

“Work off the cost to get your leg fixed. Since you were vouched for, that you weren’t in on the rustlin', you will get pay once you work off this debt.”

Kayla nodded. “Fair enough.”

Ben strummed his fingers against the wood. “Carl Coleman is the owner. He agreed to let you stay on and be our new cook since Larry retired from the position a couple months ago and no one’s enjoyed my cooking.”

“Nephew or son?”

Ben tilted his head to the side. “What?”

Kayla sipped the sharp coffee, being it was all she had to keep her hands occupied and to fill the void in her belly. “Are you Carl’s nephew or son?”

“Why does that even matter?”

Kayla shrugged. “Guess it doesn’t. So, what would you like for dinner and supper?”

“Can you even cook?”

“Does a rattlesnake bite?”

Ben’s mouth twitched again. She wanted him to smile genuinely, not this sarcastic half smile she was getting used to him doing. He was a handsome man, rugged, and strong like how her mother used to say all cowboys were.

Her Pa wasn't a cowhand, but a thief. Kayla wasn’t like that. Her mother wasn’t like that. So, Ma left after Pa got caught and strung up, and eventually married a cowboy when she was a small girl. Kayla gained a stepbrother and shortly after another half-brother. Loren was a sweet child, adventurous and smart, going off to do accounting. The woman he married turned him into a thieving drunk when her demands for comfort exceeded Loren's honest wage. Her death, and the death of the unborn child she carried, twisted him cruel. Her half-brother, Donald was long gone and dead in the ground from fever.

Kayla stared despondently into the tin cup, trying to shake her dismal thoughts. The remaining coffee offered her an ebony reflection. She wasn’t thirsty in the slightest. However, to be polite to the man who was allowing her to live, she would drink it. Kayla saw him observing her, assessing her like she was him.

He probably thought she was a despicable woman for getting messed in with them. She didn’t blame him. She was mad at herself for believing different.

Some people can’t change no matter how much you hope and love them, she decided.

“What kind of meals do you hate?” she asked.

“What?”

“What kind of meals do you hate, so I won’t cook it.”

“I don’t like peas and sprouts,” he paused, shifting in his chair. “How is your leg?”

Kayla rubbed it mechanically. “Just fine.”

“If you can manage, I will take you to the cookhouse.”

“I can manage.”

Kayla Langmoore was not what he expected her to be. He expected a crying, sniveling mess of a lady, begging for her life. She didn’t do any of that. She faced the outcome with steel reserve.

Ben watched how her dirty hair was pulled messily off her face in a braid to the side. A black eye formed on her right eye where the man stuck her from the night before. Thieving and striking a woman, Ben would never tolerate. May the Lord forgive the man who hurt a woman. Kayla didn't deserve that. Kayla was a beautiful woman. Too bad she was a thief and her family too. He didn't believe a word she said about not thieving. It was in her blood. Some people can’t change their ways and no one can change their blood.

Her small oval face was dirty. Her green eyes scanned the area with cautiousness. Any movement, she spun in the direction, eyes wide, viewing the area intently like she was waiting to be struck once more. He hated watching her get hit, but he also couldn't have his position given away until the opportune moment. There was much more at stake than a thief of a woman, no matter how pretty she was. When the man shot her, his heart leapt into his throat. In all his thirty years, he’d never seen someone shoot at a woman.

Ben shook his head, leading her to the cookhouse. She walked with her head high, slightly limping. Her emerald eyes shone bright. Other than that, she kept her face passive.

Ben snorted. A thief with pride, he thought.

He opened the door for her, offering her a hand to step inside. Kayla didn’t take his hand, instead hoisting herself into the lifted house.

“Your room is around the corner. Breakfast at six. Dinner at noon. Supper at six. Think you can manage that?” Ben said gruffly.

Kayla’s brows furrowed. “Sure can. Grouse sound good?”

“Yeah.”

“Shoot me a few, please?”

Ben nodded. “Take a bath before you start cooking. We don’t want dirt in our food.”

Kayla flushed. She looked uncertainly out the window. She wrung her hands on the cleanest part of her dress. This was the most distressed he’d seen her so far.

“What?” he asked, slightly concerned.

“I don’t have clothes. The horse I rode is gone with the spare I had.”

“I will get you somethin’.” Ben assured feeling a tad guilty at not thinking about it before. “Bathhouse is the building to the left,” he said pointing.

Kayla nodded, heading to the place he directed. By all counts he shouldn’t be getting her anything. She owed his father a debt for saving her sorry hide, pulling the bullet out of her leg and not stringing her up. He'd have to add clothes to the tally she owed before she could go free.

Ben walked to the stables. His mount, Ridge already saddled and tied out front waiting for him. This morning he was supposed to ride fences with Roy.

He shook his head in disbelief, I’m getting a thief a dress.

Ben strode to the back of the barn where his mother’s trunks were kept. She put her slimmer dresses inside, hoping to someday, eventually, get down to a smaller size, but hadn't and gave up hope she ever would. Instead, she saved them all for his future wife. Ben rolled his eyes. His mother, Sarah, been so excited to learn another woman was on the ranch. Her happiness quickly turned to anger when she heard the reason why. Sarah didn't care the circumstances of Kayla’s plight. His mother and he agreed, Kayla was a thief.

“Ben,” his mother hollered from the doorway of the barn, “is the thief awake?”

He nodded. “Making her take a bath. I don’t want dirt in my food.”

“What are you doing with my trunk?”

Ben popped the lid. “She needs a dress.”

Sarah huffed. “Fine. Give that wretched girl my green calico. Keep her out of the house.”

“Yes ma’am,” Ben replied closing the lid.

His mother stormed off to the house. Sarah hated thieves more so than his father. Carl believed there was good in everyone, no matter how wrongly they’d done him or anyone else. Sarah, on the other hand, believed once a sin was committed, the person was forever a sinner, especially when it came to killing or stealing.

Ben gripped the dress tight, going to the bath house. Kayla’s teeth chattered from inside. He opened the door, stepping inside with his back to her. Ben passed the dress backwards, feeling the gentle womanly touch take it out of his hands.

“Thank you,” she said, her teeth clacking.

“Wash up then straight to cooking.”

“Yes sir.”

“Sir?” he asked, snorting derisively.

“Yes, sir. You are my boss.”

“That would be Mr. and Mrs. Coleman you address,” he said, walking out and slamming the door behind him.

Last night, he was ready to take her to jail. His father, Carl, stayed his motion. Upon listening to his and the cowhands' story, Carl believed Kayla was a simple woman who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She, by Ben’s reckoning, should be six feet under. Like his mother taught him since he was little – killing, lying and stealing are the worst sins a person can commit. Kayla, he was certain, was both a liar and a thief.

Ben headed back to his mount who tossed his head at his approach. He mounted deftly, leading the way out to the green pasture where the cattle were lazily grazing. Roy and George sat on horseback a mile up. Ben could see their tiny dots sitting, watching the herd.

Ben allowed his horse some lead to trot, burn off the energy his stallion never seemed to be rid of. It was noon now, his night and routine shot for the day.

“Afternoon,” he grouched, coming up in between his cowhands.

Roy smirked. “She is a purty thing.”

Ignoring Roy's comment, “How is the line?” Ben asked.

“South pasture holds true. There was a break in the west one. Hank is out fixing it now,” Roy replied.

“And the cattle, George?” Ben prompted.

The man to the right shrugged. “Fine. Three heifers will be ready to calve soon. The calves that need branding are in the holding pen.”

Ben spun his horse around. “Let’s get started.”

Kayla moved about the kitchen lithely, popping an apple crisp in the oven. It was almost one and there was still no grouse. Kayla resorted to killing two of the many chickens for their dinner. They were frying on the stove.

The feathers she used to plump up the sad looking pillow for her bed. She hung up a screen too. She assumed the last person to use the bed was a man for it smelled like leather and horse. She didn’t mind the smell. In fact, she would have gladly slept in the barn if they’d offered.

Her leg was beginning to pain her a little more. Certain movements made her stitches feel like they were tearing. Without a doubt, she would have a scar there. It was the price she paid for being so naive.

Kayla smiled wanly. Her mind took her back to when she was about eight. Ma just married her stepfather. Her brother Loren smiled at her, giving her a bouquet of small wild roses, thorns plucked clean. I’m happy yer my sister, Kayla. I will protect you, he told her. And he did. He grew up into a fine man. However, the woman he married was the devil and took him down a path, she didn’t think Loren could walk.

Kayla bent down, pulling the crisp out of the oven. She hissed at the pain in her side from being kicked. She never had much of a pain tolerance, but thought she did quite well at putting on a brave show for Ben.

Her mind wandered to when Mrs. Coleman came into the kitchen not one hour ago, fiercely mad, telling her to stay away from Ben. Kayla had no intentions of a relationship with a man who thought her a liar and a thief. She may be indebted to him for fixing her up and not hanging her, but she didn't want him and had no problem telling the crotchety woman this. Aside from saving her, she owed him nothing. She didn't even like him. He’d judged her before getting to know who she really was. She’d kept bad company. She made a mistake. It didn’t make her a bad person. However, Ben’s mind was made up. As his mothers.

Kayla sniffed, feeling tears sting the back of her eyes. She’d no one in this world to help her through this. No one, but God, although she was certain the man was on holiday, for he didn’t answer her prayers anymore.

“Keep your head above water,” she told herself.

She walked outside into the warm afternoon sun to a shaded area where a picnic table sat. Earlier, while rummaging for pots and pans, she came across some white linen. A little more snooping found some nice dishes, ones she’d seen on a mercantile shelf. Opting for the cooler option, instead of inside a cookhouse or on the sunlit porch, she set the picnic table with the wares, dessert, and rolls.

Kayla went back into the kitchen, bringing out the heaping tray of fried chicken pieces, along with green beans, soft boiled herb potatoes and butter. Carl and his wife were the first to sit at the table, piling food on their plates. The other five chairs were reserved for Ben and the other hands who followed on their heels.

Kayla went back into the kitchen before anyone could utter a word to her. She began cleaning up, watching out the small side window while everyone ate with smiles on their faces. How she longed to have something like that in her life; it was one of the reasons she leapt at the chance to start anew with Loren. She wanted to be around family, maybe eventually have her own. God obviously didn’t want her to have that right now, if ever.