Free The Heirloom Brides Collection by Tracey V. Bateman Page A

frowned, turning to Stuart.
    “My pa died six years ago today. We’ve been to visit his grave.”
    Placing her hand on the woman’s shoulder, Betsy gave a sympathetic squeeze. “Seems like today hasn’t been too good for anyone.”
    Mrs. Fields reached up and covered Betsy’s hand with her own. “Everything okay with your grandpa?”
    “Oh, yes. I just overslept and made Miss Annie angry. But she is also having a difficult time today. I just feel awful that I caused it.”
    With a sigh, Mrs. Fields sought her gaze. “That woman’s difficult day has nothing to do with you.”
    Betsy turned to Stuart as Mrs. Fields attacked her food, ending the conversation. Stuart frowned and shook his head, clearly just as confused as she was.
    Trudging back to the kitchen, Betsy sat at Miss Annie’s command and ate. How grateful she would be when this day ended and she could crawl into her bed and forget it had ever happened.

Chapter Seven
    S tuart sang with gusto as the minister led the congregation in a rousing chorus of “Bringing in the Sheaves.” He tried not to stare at Betsy as she stood next to Miss Annie, sharing a hymnal but not moving her lips. He had a feeling she wasn’t crazy about the idea of being forced to keep the Sabbath, but it was widely known that one of Miss Annie’s rules for her employees was propriety at all times and regular attendance on Sundays.
    A nudge from Ma brought heat to his neck, and he forced his eyes to the front as the song ended and Reverend Beck told them to be seated.
    Sitting on a hard bench, Stuart found it difficult to concentrate on anything coming from the man’s lips, but after an hour, the service was dismissed. They greeted the reverend at the door, and Ma spent a few seconds extolling the man’s speaking gifts. Stuart scanned the churchyard and found Betsy standing with Miss Annie. He wanted badly to go and speak to Betsy, but with practically the entire town standing around, he didn’t want to give anyone a reason to gossip.
    Ma took his arm as they walked—he with reluctance—toward home. The doctor and Mrs. Avery pulled up beside them in the buggy. “Hello, Nan, Stuart,” Mrs. Avery said. “You left so fast I didn’t have an opportunity to invite you to dinner this evening. Will you join us?”
    “We’d love to.” Ma smiled. “That’s very kind. I’ll bring a pie.”
    “Bring enough for Betsy.” Mrs. Avery cast a sly glance toward Stuart and grinned. “She’ll be there, too.”
    A little giggle left Ma as Doc and his wife drove away.
    “What?”
    “Seems as though I’m not the only one who knows you’re sweet on that girl.”
    “Ma, please.” He released a heavy sigh. “I don’t need help with courting.”
    “Well, she’s been in town for almost a month, and you haven’t so much as taken her flowers.”
    “Flowers? Where am I going to find flowers in the winter?”
    “Then I suppose you’ll have to get creative until spring.” She shrugged. “But I warn you, you are not the only young man in this town starting to notice that girl. There are more widowers and bachelors in the township than you can shake a stick at—at least two for every marriage-age young woman. If you’re not careful, someone else is going to snatch her up and carry her off before you can find a flower. Not to mention courage.”
    “Ma, this is my own concern, not yours. And Betsy Lowell is certainly not looking to get herself hitched. The first thing she did was go and find a position to take care of Old Joe.” Most other girls would have found a man, not a place to work.
    Ma waved aside his objection. “Nonsense. She did what she had to do because there’s no man to take care of her.”
    But Stuart wasn’t so sure about that. As weary and thin as Betsy appeared lately, he had a feeling she enjoyed standing on her own two feet. Especially after losing the farm through no fault of her own. The day she’d paid off Old Joe’s account at the store, he’d seen deep