Free Dandelions on the Wind by Mona Hodgson Page A

to share those bonds with.
    He was truly blessed with the women in his life.
    Women . Of course he’d include Miss Jensen. If he was still a part of the family, she certainly was. A most important member. She knew his daughter better than he did and had been the one helping Mother Brantenberg on the farm all these past months. Despite her own hardships, she did the farm chores, was a playmate and teacher for Gabi, and did it all for room and board, as there was apparently no money to pay her.
    “Miss Jensen.” He gestured to a position on the quilt as if a waiter at a fancy restaurant.
    “I’ve been thinking.” Maren retrieved her cup of water. “Seeing as how we’re working together, I think it’s time you felt comfortable calling me Maren.”
    “Sounds fair to me, ma’am, and I’m Woolly.” He brushed the brim of his cap. “Rutherford, if you’d prefer that.”
    She nodded, then downed the cup of water and retrieved another.
    While he helped Mother Brantenberg to sit on the quilt, Woolly stole a look at Maren as she drained the second cup of water. Her bonnet askew, wisps of corn silk blond hair had escaped the braid wound atop her head.
    Maren lowered her cup and looked straight at him. She blinked, but neither of them looked away. Suddenly growing weak in the knees, Woolly leaned against the wagon wheel.
    High cheekbones covered with faint freckles flowed into smooth cheeks, narrowing to her charming pointed chin, no longer scuffed from her fall off the ladder. “I’d say we are making good progress.”
    “Amazing.” Had he meant it as a response to her or to himself?
    “Are you all right?” Mother Brantenberg looked up at him, an eyebrow arched above a smile.
    “Yes ma’am.” He knelt and busied himself, slicing more of the sausage. “You’ve filled the wagon.” He chucked Gabi under the chin, making her giggle. “When we’ve finished eating, I’ll empty it at the granary.” He looked at Mother Brantenberg. “You plan on taking Thursday off for the quilting circle, don’t you?”
    “Yes. If we can keep this pace, we’ll finish Saturday, even taking that time out.”
    “I’ll figure on doing some threshing while the ladies are here. And since we don’t have as many animals to feed, I can take a third or so of the grain to town to sell. Maybe winnow some out and take it to the mill to barter for some flour. There should be plenty to get us through.”
    “Hadn’t thought yet how we were going to get the threshing done. Thank you. You may need to fix the winnower, though. Last I heard, the handle kept falling off.”
    “That’s the least I can do. I hate it that I can’t do more in the field.”
    Mother Brantenberg gave him a look that brought back the old days. Softer, with no hint of the scowl he’d earned. “Don’t you worry. You’re doing more than your share hauling sheaves and keeping us watered. Besides, from the looks of all the new wood and supplies at the barn, you’re going to be doing plenty more around here.”
    A refreshing breeze. He may have been the only one who felt it, but he’d definitely experienced a refreshing breeze.

Ten
    T he sun had given way to darkness, and an oil lamp flickered on the bedside table. Wednesday night already. Seems it was just Sunday, and they were all gathered around the piano. Where had the days gone? Maren sighed. The deep breath caused her aching arms to remind her. She’d given most of her time and all of her energy to the wheat harvest.
    Sound asleep on her bed, Gabi purred like a kitten. Maren pulled her dressing gown tight and focused her gaze to follow the light that bounced along the path toward the barn. The candle lantern’s glow was just strong enough to illuminate Rutherford’s silhouette. At the barn doors, the light stopped moving forward and swung around, toward the house. Could he see her standing at the window?
    Her sight couldn’t confirm the notion, and it wouldn’t be proper for her to wave. The lantern