Free The Bishop's Daughter by Wanda E. Brunstetter Page A

had been best friends. Leona rather liked it that way. A dog wasn’t likely to place demands on you the way people sometimes did. And a faithful dog loved unconditionally, which was more than could be expected from a lot of folks.
    As Cinnamon’s heavy breathing turned to soft snores, Leona opened her eyes and stared at the sky. The silver pinpoints of stars overhead reminded her of the Lone Star quilt on her bed. She sat there several minutes watching the stars twinkle, talking to God, and wondering what her future might hold.

S ure is nice that you and your family could join us for supper tonight,” Abraham said, thumping his friend on the back as they followed Lydia and Leona toward the house.
    “I’d never pass up a free meal.” Jacob chuckled. “Especially not when one of Fannie’s delicious turkey potpies is involved.”
    “We’re having banana cake for dessert,” Abraham announced. “So be sure you don’t eat too much supper.”
    Lydia glanced over her shoulder and smirked at him. “Oh, you can be sure my husband will eat more than his share this evening.” She laughed, along with the others.
    When they entered the house, Abraham noticed that Fannie and Mary Ann were scurrying around the kitchen like a couple of excited chickens.
    “What can I do to help?” Leona asked, stepping up to Abraham’s youngest daughter.
    Mary Ann smiled and motioned to the table. “The glasses need to be filled with water.”
    “Okay.”
    “And what would you like me to do?” Lydia questioned.
    “How about cutting some radishes? They’re fresh from the garden,” Fannie replied.
    “Sure, I can do that.”
    Abraham leaned close to his wife. “Call us when supper’s ready.”
    “Jah, we sure will,” she said with a nod.
    Abraham brushed Jacob’s shoulder as he pointed to the living room. “Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll go round up my youngest sons.”
    A short time later, Abraham sat at the head of the table with Jacobat the other end. The women took their seats on Abraham’s left, and his twin sons, who would turn fifteen in the fall, found their way to the bench on the other side of the table. All heads bowed for silent prayer. When Abraham finished his prayer, he cleared his throat and said, “Now, let’s eat ourselves full!”
    “I know I’ll eat my share,” Titus announced. At least Abraham thought it was Titus. Sometimes, when the boys were in a teasing mood, they would pretend to be the other twin, wearing each other’s clothes and answering to the other brother’s name.
    He leaned to the left, hoping to get a good look at his son’s eyes. Titus had one eye a little bigger than the other.
    The boy turned his head before Abraham could get a good look and confirm which twin was speaking. “Say, Bishop Weaver, I’ve been wonderin’ about something.”
    Jacob forked a couple of Fannie’s homemade bread-and-butter pickles onto his plate. “What do you want to know, Timothy? It is Timothy, right?”
    “Nope. I’m Titus.”
    “All right then. What do you want to know, Titus?”
    Timothy snickered, and Titus jabbed him in the ribs. “Knock it off!”
    Fannie gave both boys a warning glance, and Abraham did the same. “You two had better quit fooling around and eat,” he said sternly.
    “I was eating ’til my mutwillich bruder decided to stick his bony elbow in my ribs.”
    “Jah, well, it hasn’t only been your brother who’s been playful—you’ve been pretty rambunctious yourself all day, and I’ve had enough of it.” Abraham passed the platter of radishes over to Titus. “Why don’t you have a couple of these? They ought to cool ya down some.”
    “No thanks. I’m sure they’re too hot for me.”
    Jacob chuckled behind his napkin. “Now what was that question you had for me, Titus?”
    “I was wonderin’ if you’re too poor to put a front window glass in your buggy?”
    “Don’t be rude, son,” Abraham said with a shake of his finger. “You surely know that a