Free Faith by Lori Copeland Page A

the Shepherds' closest
neighbor to the south. The two families shared water
rights. Faith judged Elga to be two to three years her junior, pretty, with a tousled head of russet hair and sparkling goldish-brown eyes. Elga had been married less than
a month, and she still glowed with matrimonial bliss.

    Over protests, Brice helped Liza down from the buggy,
then took the picnic basket from Faith. His blond, sunny
good looks and amicable gray eyes reminded Faith of the air
after a summer thunderstorm. Refreshing. If only Nicholas
smiled that way once in a while, he'd be every bit as handsome as Brice.
    Brice energetically pumped Nicholas's hand. "Glad you
could come today. Can always use an extra hand."
    The sounds of hammers and saws rang out as Faith trailed
Nicholas and Liza through the milling crowd. Nicholas
called to several families, who returned the greeting. Faith
decided if he wasn't exactly a social butterfly, he was at least
a well-respected member of the community.
    "Need to talk to you about one of my bulls!" a man in
the crowd shouted.
    Nicholas waved, promising to get together later as he
steered Faith in the direction of the blanket Liza was spreading under a large oak.
    "Can't I help?" Faith protested when she realized he
intended for her to remain with Liza for the day.
    "Women have no place doing men's work," he said.
    Her chin tilted with determination. "I've done it before.
Once, June and I helped build a whole shed. Mr. Siddons
was thankful for our help, said we had the strength of two
men, and-"
    Nicholas cut her off. "No wife of mine is going to build a barn or a shed. Stay here, and stay out from under
foot."

    Faith bit her tongue, sorely tempted to remind him she
wasn't his wife, but she could see his pride was at stake. He
wanted his wife to meet community standards. Well, she
resented that he hadn't seemed the least bit upset about their
two delayed wedding attempts. When she opened her
mouth to argue, he pointed her to the blanket and sat her
down.
    Handing her a paper fan, he motioned toward the women
setting up the food table. "I'm sure Nelly Johnson will
welcome some help."
    "Woman's work," Faith muttered.
    "Nothing wrong with woman's work," Nicholas said.
"You can unpack our food basket. It'll keep you out of
trouble."
    Keep her out of trouble! Jerking her hat in place, she
stared at his disappearing back, silently seething. What
would it hurt if she handed nails? Or sawed a board to the
proper length?
    Fanning herself, she looked up to see Liza pulling balls of
yarn and crochet hooks out of her sewing bag. Faith saw
two hooks, and her heart sank. It was going to be a long
day.
    "Should I set out our food basket?"
    Liza handed her a hook and a ball of thread. "No hurry.
Here. Make yourself useful. Idle hands are the devil's playground."
    Faith bet the devil himself wouldn't have to sit under a tree and crochet on a pretty day like this. Removing her
hat, she set it aside.

    Puffy white clouds floated overhead as she made a knot in
the yarn and placed it on the hook, listening to the voices of
the men, who, on the count of ten, heave-hoed, hoisting
the newly framed walls into place. How she envied their
camaraderie. God, I don't question your wisdom, but I sure
wish you'd needed more men than women when I was born. She
would have relished the peppery smell of fresh-hewn wood
in her hands, adored the feel of a smooth shiny nail.
    A faint breeze rustled branches overhead as Faith laid aside
her crocheting and sighed. In the distance, a group of children were playing a spirited game of crack-the-whip. Her
eyes searched the crowd for Dan Walters and his brood. She
finally located the young widower nailing window frames
together at a nearby sawhorse. Jeremiah was standing beside
him, holding baby Lilly in his arms.
    Smiling, Faith waved, and the old hermit tilted Lilly's arm
to wave back. Jeremiah's gaze lightly skimmed Liza before
returning to the