Free The Brides of Chance Collection by Cathy Marie Hake, Kelly Eileen Hake, Tracey V. Bateman

she belonged here. A shy smile flitted across her face as she continued. “When I took the laundry off the line last evening, I kept out the articles of clothing that require mending. Could you possibly make do with what you have? I’ll be sure to catch up on the mending today.”
    After Paul managed to shut his gaping mouth, he stammered, “That’s right kind of you, ma’am. I mean, miss. We’d all be obliged. Much obliged. Truly. None of us is any good with a needle.”
    At breakfast, she set stuff on the table the likes of which Gideon and his brothers hadn’t tasted in years. His brothers were voluble in their appreciation and approval. Mama loved to cook like this; Hannah had made fair meals but never much pushed herself past doing plain fare.
    Miriam hadn’t just scrambled eggs and made biscuits. She hadn’t gone the extra step and whipped up a pan of white gravy. Oh, no. Miss I’m-Here-to-Stay pulled out all the stops. She’d chopped up bits of ham, onions, and tomatoes into the eggs. As if that wasn’t enough to make all of their taste buds take notice, she opened the door of the oven and pulled out a pan of coffee cake. The aroma steaming off it had Gideon reaching for a piece as soon as she put it on the table.
    An hour later, trying to forget about breakfast and concentrate on work, Gideon remembered the way she’d fleetingly rested her hand on his shoulder so she could refill Logan’s and his coffee cups. Her touch had been innocent and brief as could be, but when she moved on toward Paul and Titus, he’d wanted to yank her back and check to see if he’d been imagining the sweet smell of flowers clinging to her.
    Disgusted at himself, Gideon pulled on his left glove and muttered under his breath, “Half-wits. My own brothers are a bunch of no-good, belly-rubbin’ half-wits. If she thinks she’s gonna buy her way into this family on our just-mended shirtsleeves or through our stomachs, she’s got another thing a-comin’!”
    Dinner reinforced her good standing with his brothers. She’d made corn bread and fancied up the beans she’d been soaking with hunks of side meat. She’d picked cabbage from the garden, sliced it into thin shreds, and mixed all sorts of stuff with it. The stuff could coax every last apostle out of heaven for want of a taste.
    She didn’t eat with them, either. She and Polly had held a tea party a short while earlier. While the men ate, Miriam lifted Polly up on a chair. The puzzling woman pulled a measuring tape from the sewing bag she’d brought in her trunk. Tan his sorry hide, Logan had unearthed a stack of feed and flour sacks, and Miriam went so far as to promise Polly she could choose whichever she fancied for her new dress. While she and Polly chattered like magpies about a pretty new frock, Daniel’s eyes shot sparks that could ignite a forest fire. All of the other brothers lapped up the food like a pack of starving wolves.
    Gideon knew he had to do something—quickly.

    Gideon stepped into the cabin for supper, unsure whether to anticipate or dread what was to come. Miss Miriam had missed her calling in life. The woman could plot until she had a man twisting in circles. Had she been born a man, she’d certainly have attended West Point and become a military strategist. And that means she wouldn’t be sashaying around here, wearing that flowery scent and ugly dress and driving me half daft .
    “What have you been doing today?” Logan asked their little niece as he tugged on the ribbon tying off one of her freshly washed, neatly plaited pigtails.
    “Auntie Miri-Em fixed all of the shirts. She putted lotsa buttons on ’em. And she hided all of the holes so they all gone.” She paused for effect, then hiked up the hem of the dress she was wearing to show off layers of white ruffles underneath. “Looky! Auntie Miri-Em maded me panty-lettes.”
    Logan let out a hearty laugh.
    Gideon cast a glance over at Miriam. She’d turned back to the stove, but he