A Promise to Believe in by Tracie Peterson Read Free Book Online Page A

would seek revenge on their child?”
    Patience drew a deep breath. “Mine would. They were so bitter at my marrying Jerry and moving west. They didn’t approve when he was an accountant, but then when he turned rancher, that completely put us at odds. He might as well have announced that he was setting up a brothel.”
    “He’s such a sweet man,” Beth said. “So gentle in spirit, and smart, too. He runs that ranch in better order than ten men with twice his experience.”
    This made Patience smile. “Some days he makes enough mess for ten men. Between him, Dave, and the hands, I have more than enough to do, but I miss my girls.”
    “Speaking of Dave,” Gwen said, glancing toward the dining room, “will he be joining us?”
    “No. He told me he’d be busy.”
    “Table’s set,” Lacy announced. “You want me to put some of the food out?”
    “Yes,” Gwen replied. “Go ahead.”
    Beth was already pulling the biscuits from the oven. “Don’t forget the mashed potatoes in the warming bin,” she called after Lacy.
    Hank Bishop sat down to the table of strangers and nodded toward the only other man at the table. He extended his hand. “Hank Bishop,” he told the man.
    “Jerry Shepard. Glad to meet you, Hank.” They shook hands. “Where are you from?”
    “Back East,” Hank replied.
    “I might have guessed. Patience and I were once from Springfield, Massachusetts.”
    “I know the area,” Hank admitted. He offered nothing more. He knew they expected him to mention where he’d come from, but at this time he saw no need to.
    “Jerry, would you offer the blessing?” Gwen asked.
    They all bowed their heads as the man began to pray. Hank watched them in fascination. He hadn’t prayed in years—not since he’d been a young teen. He marveled at the casual way the woman referred to the older man. Seemed everyone out here just called each other by their given names.
    “Amen.”
    A murmuring of amen s followed. Did they somehow suppose that it blessed the food even more if they added their approval to the prayer?
    “Hank, this is my wife, Patience. Our son, Dave, is one of the sheriff deputies in the area, and we have two daughters who are living in Springfield with their grandparents.”
    Hank nodded. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” Again, he could tell by the look of expectation on the faces around him that they waited for him to be more forthcoming with his background. And again, he disappointed them.
    “And are you also in the business of the law, Mr. Shepard?”
    “Call me Jerry. Everyone does. No time for formalities out here. We’re all far too dependent on each other to stand on social dictates. But in answer to your question, no. I ranch and raise a few head of dairy cows. Patience also has a nice number of chickens. In fact, we raised the birds that grace the table tonight. Sure smells good, Gwen.”
    “Thanks. You might as well carve,” she instructed.
    Jerry quickly went to work while Patience took a turn at asking Hank questions. “So what brings you to these parts, Hank?”
    He clenched his jaw momentarily—a bad habit he had when trying to analyze a situation’s importance. “I had some family business.” He smiled ever so slightly and changed the subject. “I must say, this part of the country is quite beautiful. I took the train to Salt Lake City. I didn’t think much of the passing territories west of the Mississippi, but this valley has tremendous merit. What crops do they grow here?”
    Patience smiled. Hank surmised she didn’t even realize she’d been refocused on a different line of conversation.
    “Wheat and barley, mostly,” Patience replied.
    “But not corn,” Jerry added. “There just isn’t good enough land or enough time to grow decent corn. Potatoes do quite well, however.”
    “Yes. They grow very well in my garden.”
    “I wish I could say the same,” Gwen declared. “I’ve tried for two years. I must not have your green thumb or talent for