A Man for Glory. Carolyn Davidson

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      “I’ll put them in the other skillet in just a few minutes, soon as the gravy is ready to put on the back burner,” she answered. She glanced at him, a sharp look that gauged his mood and put him in his place. “Don’t sneak up behind me, Mr. McAllister. I don’t like surprises.”

      His grin was unrepentant, she noted, but his words made a stab at sincerity. “Yes, ma’am. I’m sure sorry. I’ll make more noise next time I look over your shoulder.”

      She turned from the stove, the big spoon held before her, sausage gravy dripping from its bowl, and his long index finger was quick, catching the tasty drop before it could splash on the floor, and instead sliding it between his lips.

      Buddy had followed him into the house, bearing a heavy bucket of milk. “This here’s last night’s milk, Glory. I’ll put it in the pantry. I covered it good last night with a clean towel before I put it in the springhouse.” He stowed the pail under a shelf, out of the way from straying feet, and returned to the kitchen, his eyes swerving directly to Cade.

      “Like I was tellin’ you out in the barn, Mr. McAllister, if I go to real school after the harvest and the last of the hay is cut, Glory says I should do good. She thinks I’m right smart.”

      “I wouldn’t doubt that one little bit,” Cade said agreeably. “While I’m thinking about it, son, I’d think you could call me Cade. My pa was Mr. McAllister and I ain’t got used to the name yet. Been Cade all my life.”

      “Yessir, I can sure do that … can’t I, Glory?” he asked when he caught a stray glance from his stepmother, who’d turned back to the skillets on the range. “If he says I can call him Cade, it’s all right, ain’t it? Makes him seem sorta like a friend, don’t it?”

      Glory nodded as she turned from the stove where she’d poured the bowl of beaten eggs into an iron skillet and faced the two males at her table. Buddy was grinning, and Cade looked right comfortable where he sat, watching the breakfast she cooked. “I’m thinking we’ll eat better if there’s plates under these eggs and gravy,” she said sharply. “Would you see to it, Mr. McAllister?”

      “Yes, ma’am, I surely will,” he said as he stood and approached the dresser where he’d seen Essie finding dishes and silverware. Four plates and a like number of knives and forks appeared on the table in moments, and he stood behind his chair, waiting.

      “Anything else I can do to help, ma’am?” And then, more softly, he said, “I’d like to talk to you after breakfast about what we discussed last night.”

      “I thought you’d already made up your mind,” Glory told him, pouring the sausage gravy into a bowl, then scooping the eggs into another. She placed them on the table, then reached into the warming oven atop the range to pull out a pan of biscuits she’d stored there. In moments, she’d filled the glasses with milk, poured a cup of coffee and put it in front of Cade, and called out for Essie to come to the table.

      The girl appeared from the direction of the hallway, a braid hanging ragtag down her back and a look of chagrin on her face. “I can’t do my braid the way you make it, Glory. I tried three times already and it don’t look right no matter what I do to it.”

      “Sit down and eat, Essie. I’ll braid it up for you after breakfast. It just takes a bit more practice. You’ll catch on.”

      The food smelled tasty, Cade decided, the eggs and gravy steaming in their bowls, the biscuits crusty on the outside, and when he broke one open the inside was light and looked to be tender.

      “Mr. McAllister …”

      He glanced at her. “Ma’am?” He looked askance, then noted the folded hands the children held before themselves, and bowed his head, holding his own palms together as he’d been silently directed.

      Glory spoke a short prayer of blessing on the food and the family; her words were sincere, obviously used often. It was plain she was not displaying company manners, only performing a ritual common to this table.

      After the children had chimed in on the “amen,” Cade spoke up. “After my pa died, my mama used to always pray before we ate, and then when my stepfather moved in, she said he should take his place in the house as man of the family and he always did it from then on.”

      The children were silent, and Essie cast Cade a wondering glance, as if she sought out the truth of his position in this house. Glory simply smiled, her comment mild, but much what he would have expected of her.

      “We’re always thankful for our meals, Mr. McAllister. I know we work hard growing much of the food, but we’re thankful for a place to put in a garden, and the rain that waters it for us, and a good well to take up the slack when the rain holds off too long. Sometimes we take turns saying a blessing. You’re welcome to take a turn if you like.”

      The children grinned, and Essie kicked Buddy’s ankle and snickered behind her hand, as if imagining the big man across the table doing such a thing. They’d only done it themselves at first to please Glory, for Pa had said that she ran the kitchen, since she cooked the meals, and they must do as she said.

      “I’ll take the job for supper at night, since I’m planning on being here—for a good while, anyway,” Cade said, tossing a look of satisfaction at Glory. He pushed his plate away, the surface of it almost as clean as it had been when it came fresh from the cupboard shelf. “Good breakfast, ma’am.”

      “Thank you, sir. Now, if you’ll put the dirty dishes in the sink, I’ll take a few minutes to braid Essie’s hair for her.” The child moved to stand in front of Glory and in moments the braid was formed and Glory dropped a quick kiss on the smooth cheek as Essie whispered her thanks.

      The child ran out the back door, calling for her brother as she went. Buddy left the table to run after Essie, and Glory’s eyes touched the man who had cleared the table in barely a minute. His eyebrow twitched and a grin tilted the corner of his lips as he returned her appraising look.

      As if he could see within her, his gaze narrowed and his dark eyes glowed. She felt a twinge of uneasiness, wondering at his thoughts. And then he answered her unspoken question before it could be asked.

      “We’ll work it out, you and me,” he said softly, his eyes warm on her face.

      “I told you, Mr. McAllister, I don’t know if I’m ready for what you want.”

      “Well, the first thing you might do to prepare yourself is forget the Mr. McAllister thing and remember that my name is Cade. After all, I’m the lucky man you’re going to be living with, one way or another.”

      She looked up at him and her smile was quick, deepening the dimples that dented her cheeks. “You’ve got a slick way of putting things, McAllister, quite a line of blarney. It sounds to me like you’ve got things all arranged in your mind.”

      He chuckled at her words. “Blarney, is it? You’re sounding like a colleen from the old country, Glory.”

      She cast him a flirting glance. “I suspect I come by it honestly, Cade. My father came over on a boat from Ireland, met my mother in New York, who was fresh from England herself, and married her. I suppose I picked up a bit of his way of talking. I catch myself once in a while thinking in my mind, using his words.”

      “I thought as much. There’s just a hint of Irish in your speech, not a lot, but enough to tease me as I listen. СКАЧАТЬ