Page 155 of Conveniently Wed
She smiled as the copper-colored foal sniffed his way up her arm. “Hmm. His coloring and thick body remind me of a painting I once saw of the Trojan Horse in Homer’s Odyssey. Did you ever hear of it?”
“I’ve heard it a time or two.” Pa had told that story over and over when the family was gathered around the fire on winter evenings.
He studied the colt again. He did sort of look like the Trojan horse the Greeks had used to sneak into the city of Troy and conquer. A glance at Leah showed she was doing the same, her brows puckered and her head tilted a little.
Finally, she turned the force of her gaze on Gideon, and all former thoughts left his mind.
“So what do you think about Trojan?”
He nodded, a little too dumbly. “I think it fits him.”
She turned back to rub the colt’s silky neck. Her face glowed in the light from the setting sun, the paleness now replaced with a rosy hue. She released a soft giggle as the colt reached up to sniff her chin.
“I think he likes you.” Was that jealousy he felt? Pathetic. Who was jealous of a horse?
She flashed a delighted smile toward Gideon as she spoke again to the foal in a sing-song voice. “Hey, Trojan. Let’s go see your mama, shall we? She’s a good girl, but I bet she’d like some attention too.”
As she wobbled forward on the walking sticks, the colt scampered ahead to hide behind his mother again. Theexpression on Leah’s face had turned to grim determination, as if she was pushing through the pain, determined to make her body do what she wanted, despite its complaining. Gideon fought the urge to step up and help her.
Just as Leah reached the mare, Miriam appeared in the cabin doorway. “You two about done playin’ with the livestock? Dinner’s ready, and if you come now, it won’t be burned.”
Did Leah’s nose wrinkle before the mare shifted to block his view?
15
Leah squinted at the tiny hole of the needle in her hand. The mid-afternoon sunlight streaming through the open doorway glinted off the little metal cylinder, making it a challenge to poke the black thread through the miniature opening.
Miriam hummed “Holy, Holy, Holy” in the rocking chair beside Leah’s bed, still stationed in the main room of the cabin. Her fingers flew as she crocheted a sock out of uncolored yarn.
Leah finally threaded the needle, then began creating a series of knots to bind the loose ends of the thread together. She lifted her focus to her friend. “That hymn has always been one of my favorites.”
Miriam nodded agreement, but kept humming as she reached the chorus.
Emotion from the melody filled Leah’s chest. “I once heard an opera soloist perform that song in my church in Richmond. It was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard. That day, I decided that’s the song I want sung over my grave when I die.”
Miriam’s humming ceased, as did her crochet hook, and her sea green eyes grew round as half dollars. “Leah, what a morbid thought.”
A blush warmed her cheeks. “It’s just such a beautiful hymn. And what better testimony after my life ends than to give praise to the One who put me here to begin with?”
Miriam’s hands began to move again. “I suppose so. But I try not to think about death—mine or anyone else’s.”
Poor Miriam. She really had been through the loss of more loved ones than anyone her age should have to endure. It was amazing she could remain so positive and upbeat, always smiling or chattering away.
Her brother, on the other hand, was Miriam’s complete opposite. Had she seen him smile yet? What had Abel been like? Quiet and sober like Gideon? Dare she ask?
“Miriam?” Leah kept her face focused on the tear she mended in Miriam’s jacket.
“Mmhmm.”
“Would you mind telling me about Abel? Was he as solemn as Gideon is?”
Miriam looked up, a faraway glimmer in her eyes and the hint of a smile touching her lips. “Abel wasn’t solemn, not in the least. He loved to laugh and joke. He had Mama’s red hair, so of course he could get riled if wanted. But he loved people.”
She blinked and focused her dark green eyes on Leah. “Of course, Gideon wasn’t always such a stick-in-the-mud either. He didn’t joke around much like Abel, but he always had dreams and wanted to do big things. Once you got him talking about his ideas, you couldn’t get him to stop.” Her face held the rueful look only a sister could master.
“What kind of dreams?”
Miriam shrugged. “He carried on Pa’s dream for the ranch, especially the horses. He’s always wanted to breed the best horses in Montana. He’s really excited about that colt he brought up a few days ago.” She waved a hand dismissively. “You should ask him about the rest.”
