Free After the Frost by Megan Chance Page A

things, even if it was nothing more exciting than the weather.
    She bent over, resting her elbows on the fence and leaning out as far as Sarah.
    "She's a nice-lookin' hog." Belle pointed to the bigger of the two, pure black except for the spot of white just beneath her chin.
    "That's Bertha."
          "Bertha, huh?"
          "Papa's takin' her to the fair. He thinks she's pretty."
          Belle lifted her brows in surprise. She couldn't imagine Rand thinking such a thing, much less saying it. "He does?"
          "Uh-huh. Ain't she?"
          "Uh—yeah. I guess another pig might think she's pretty."
          They were quiet for a moment, both watching the two hogs root around in the dirt.
          "Papa said we could have baby pigs next spring." Sarah spoke suddenly. She slanted Belle a tentative glance. "Is it almost spring yet?"
          "We've still got a little while."
          "Oh." Sarah looked thoughtful. "I wish it was spring now." She wiggled a little, tightening her chubby hands on the splintery fence. "'Cause I'll be ten then, and I'm gonna take me a baby pig and run away."
          Belle stared at Sarah in surprise. "You're goin' to what?"
          "I'll be able to ride a horse then. Papa said I could when I was ten."
          "Is that so?"
          "Sarah." His voice came from behind them, low and melodic, startling them both with its quiet intensity. Sarah jumped down from the fence guiltily, and Belle twisted around. Rand stood there, a wicked-looking ax hanging loosely from his hand. Dirt and chaff spotted his bleached linsey-woolsey shirt and clung to the heavy brown workpants, and a few bits of hay threaded through his thick hair. He looked sweaty and tired, and his mouth was set in a familiar grim line.
          "Papa, I was just showin' her Bertha." Even Sarah seemed to sense his volatile mood. Her voice was softly pleading.
          "I see that." Rand jerked his head toward the house. "Why don't you go on in and see if you can't help your grandma?"
          "But I was feedin' the chickens."
          "You were?" Rand's gaze slid to the feedbag, still in Belle's hands.
          Belle shifted it uncomfortably. "She was. There was a hole in it," she explained lamely.
          "Well, you can feed them later. Go on in, now,"
          Sarah looked stubborn. Belle stepped forward. "It's all right. We can feed them to—"
          "No." There was no anger, no threat in his words. Just a solid, implacable order. "Sarah, I said go inside. Now."
          This time Sarah went. Belle watched as the child walked slowly and deliberately across the yard, both hands behind her back, her feet dragging.
          Belle turned back to him. "How—"
          "Is there something wrong with your memory?" he asked, his eyes narrowed, his tone coldly furious. "I told you I didn't want you around her."
          She shrugged. "I know what you told me. I don't give a damn."
          "You don't, huh?" He leaned forward, took a step that brought him close enough so Belle could see the dust coating the lines at the corners of his eyes, staining his shirt. Close enough to smell the tang of sweat.
          She lifted her chin and faced him. "No, I don't. What're you goin' to do about that, Rand? Scare me away?" She stepped toward him.
          He jerked back so sharply the ax he held scraped along the ground. "I won't let you take her," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Never."
          Anger surged through her. "Oh, no? We'll see about that."
          "I'll fight you every inch."
          "I never expected anythin' different from you."
He swung the ax slightly in his hand, glancing down at it as if he wanted to use it on her. "Make it easy on yourself, Belle. Leave."
          She glared at him, hostility made her voice tight. "I'm only goin' to say this one time, Rand," she said evenly. "You can threaten me all you want, you can even run me