A Hopeful Heart by Kim Vogel Sawyer Read Free Book Online

tremble in her hand. Not once had she prepared a meal. At Evan’s Glen, she’d often visited the kitchen, receiving treats from the cheerful cook. But at Uncle Leo’s, she wasn’t allowed to enter the kitchen. Consorting with staff had been strictly prohibited. But then her aunt and uncle had callously thrown her into a situation for which she was ill-prepared. Indignation filled her at the unfair circumstances. If only Mama and Papa were still alive, how different her life would be. . . .
    “Tressa, are ye all right?” Sallie’s compassionate voice broke through Tressa’s inner reflection.
    Tressa shifted to look at Sallie, surprised to discover the girl’s image seemed blurred. She swiped her hand across her eyes, removing the shimmer of tears, and held her volume to a whisper to match Sallie’s. “Yes. Yes, of course, I’m quite—” Then, remembering Sallie’s comment about her speech, she scrambled to reply in a simple manner. “I’m fine. Just . . . tired.” Her voice sounded stilted and unnatural. But Sallie smiled and relaxed into her seat, apparently reassured.
    At the head of the table, Mrs. Wyatt turned to Luella. “Well, missy, since you’re all fired up to take on the cookin’ chores, you can have kitchen duties this week.” She rose, swinging a grin around the table. “C’mon, girls, let’s leave Luella to the cleanup an’ get started on turnin’ some o’ that cream into butter.”
    Ignoring her stiff hips and aching shoulders, Tressa pushed to her feet and followed Mrs.Wyatt. She hoped it was easier to extract butter from cream than it had been to draw milk from that cow!

5
    Abel rose with the congregation for the closing hymn. Beside him, Cole turned to gawk backward. Again. Abel focused on the words of the song, determined not to join his hired hand and sneak a peek over his own shoulder. Cole, Ethan, and even Vince, who was old enough to know better, had sent glances toward the back pew of the church more than once during the lengthy sermon. Constant shuffles from the pews behind Abel had indicated several others were more interested in getting a gander at the newcomers than focusing on Brother Connor’s sermon.
    Abel refrained from looking, but he was keenly aware of the women’s presence somewhere behind him. The chorus of higher-pitched voices added a whole new quality to “Cast Thy Burden on the Lord.” And with the service now ending, he’d have to turn around and make his way out of the church. In all of his years of attending the Barnett Community Church, he had never gone a Sunday without shaking hands with every other member and offering a greeting. But how could he greet Aunt Hattie today without acknowledging those women she’d brought to town?
    His stomach churned, and it had nothing to do with the lumpy oatmeal he’d eaten for breakfast. Aunt Hattie meant well. She really thought she was doing the men of the town a favor with her herdsman school. Abel suspected if the widow had any idea how much it affected him to have those eastern women sitting in church, she would’ve driven over to Pierceville and attended service there instead this morning.
    Telling her might make things easier for him, but he’d never let on to Hattie. There wasn’t a purer soul in all of Ford County. She’d been the first one to come calling after Pa fell ill. She’d invited Abel to Sunday dinner more times than he could count. But if she invited him today, he’d say no for the first time.
    The hymn ended on a long note, the harmony echoing from the rafters. Then with a wave of his hand, Brother Connor brought the singing to an end. Abel drew a deep breath and stepped into the aisle between the two rows of pews. On an ordinary May Sunday, the women clustered to share the latest gossip, and the men—married or single—smacked one another on the back, talked about the weather, or bragged about the number of calves born on their spread.
    Today, however, wives captured their