Free A Thousand Little Blessings by Claire Sanders

“That’s old, all right. If the weather holds, maybe I can go for a ride on Sunday afternoon.”
    “Where do you like to ride?”
    “Along Hamilton Creek. You know the footbridge that connects your family’s land to ours?”
    “Sure.”
    “If you go just a little farther south, there’s a nice grove of cottonwoods that makes for a good resting spot.”
    The same spot where he’d seen her a few nights earlier. “That sounds nice, all right. Would you mind some company?”
    Etta’s brows drew together. “Do you think your mother would like to ride with me?”
    Surely, a young woman as pretty as Etta had her share of suitors, but her confusion seemed genuine. “I doubt it. But I wouldn’t mind.”
    Etta’s eyes widened as his meaning sank in. “Oh.” She took two steps away from Gabriel. “That would be fine.” She picked up her umbrella. “If you’re sure.”
    “I’m sure. Is two o’clock all right with you?”
    “Two o’clock is fine,” she said as she hurried out of the stable.
    Gabriel watched her hasty exit and laughed to himself.
    Etta was almost as jumpy as he, but instead of thunder, she shied away from flirtation.
     
     
     
     

4
     
    On Sunday afternoon, Etta sat at her sleeping father’s bedside and stitched the quilt squares together. Charlie Simpson had only been working with him for a few days, but already she could see an improvement. She smiled to herself as she threaded the needle. Charlie was the most optimistic, good-natured person she’d ever met. Even when she’d come home one evening to the sound of breaking dishes, Charlie had cheerfully swept up the pieces and assured her that no harm had been done.
    “Mr. Henry’s just frustrated,” he’d said with a smile and a wink. “You’d be frustrated, too, if you had to relearn how to hold a fork. But don’t you worry, miss. Old Charlie’s on the job.”
    Etta stitched and prayed. Thank You for sending Charlie to us, Lord. Help Papa be patient in his healing. A spring breeze ruffled the lace curtains her mother had loved, and doves cooed softly from the oaks. Etta dropped her sewing into her lap and leaned back in her chair.
    Everyone had been so kind that morning at church. So many had offered to sit with Papa or to work in her mother’s garden until she was ready to take it over. The fellowship of believers was a sweet blessing.
    Etta closed her eyes as one of her mother’s favorite hymns floated into her memory. The fellowship of kindred minds is like to that above.
    “Wha…yu…”
    Etta’s eyes sprang open at the sound of her father’s voice. “Good afternoon, Papa. I hope you had a good nap.”
    “Ahh…waaa…”
    “Would you like some water?” Etta stood and offered him a glass.
    Henry reached for it with his left hand and curled his fingers around it. Etta held her breath while he moved it shakily toward his mouth. Henry sipped the water, lowered the glass, and looked at Etta.
    Relief flooded through her veins. “You did it, Papa! That’s wonderful!” Etta used the edge of the sheet to wipe away the drops of water that dribbled down his chin.
    “Hmph.”
    “I don’t care what you say,” Etta said as she resumed her seat. “It’s progress. Remember that fable about the tortoise and the hare? Slow and steady wins the race.”
    Henry nudged the quilt square on Etta’s lap.
    “I’m halfway finished sewing the squares together. I saw Sara Benson at church this morning, and she agreed to help me finish the quilt. It will look wonderful on your bed.”
    “Hor…hors…”
    “The horses are doing wonderfully. Rosa’s nephew, Benito, comes before and after school to clean the stalls and to feed the horses. And Gabriel Benson is still coming. I believe he rides every day.”
    Her father’s face remained impassive, his jaws slack, and his eyes unfocused.
    “I’m going to ride this afternoon. You know how I love to take Mira out for exercise.”
    “Yuu..riii…”
    “Gabriel said he’d like to go