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Hugh gave a few details of his visit, reminded again of how unfair this arrangement was to Annie. He should end it now, but how could he? He needed someone. And not just anyone. Someone who related to Evan as well as Annie and her grandfather did.

Annie swept the pile of sticks off the table and dropped them into a tin.

Why should she feel guilty to be seen playing a game with Grandfather, especially when it created another way to draw out Evan?

And yet she did because he was judging her.

Four weeks—minus a day—to prove to him that she was right for this job.

Only it wasn’t a job. If he found her satisfactory, it was a lifetime agreement.

For better or worse. For richer or poorer.

In sickness and in health. That would include the sickness or health of his son.

Evan had watched her and Grandfather play pick-up sticks.

She considered that well worth any censure with which Hugh viewed the pastime.

Perhaps she needed to be less critical of herself, too.

She made coffee and served it with cookies she’d baked that very afternoon while Hugh went to visit the Barrets. Grandfather finished his coffee and retired to his chair with a book, but soon, the book fell to his lap, and his head tipped to one side as he napped.

Annie watched him for a moment. She hated to think that he was getting old, but last year, he had gone out every day, no matter the weather, to check on the ranch activities. This year, he seemed content, maybe even relieved, to stay indoors, close to the fire.

“You’re worried about him?” Hugh’s softly spoken words drew her attention. His kindly expression caused her throat to tighten.

“I suppose I am,” she murmured, not wanting to disturb her grandfather. “He isn’t as active as he was last winter.” She told him how things had been a year ago. Her throat tightened. “I can’t bear to think of losing him.” Her voice broke, and she ducked her head.

“It hurts to lose those we love. Sometimes...” He paused, and she clung to that moment of silence, hoping for something that would help her know how to deal with loss—other than to pull the edges of herself closed.

He continued. “Sometimes I wonder if it takes a special person to cope with a profound loss.” He looked away—past her, his gaze on something beyond the walls of the house. She wondered if he still talked about her and Grandfather or if he referred to his own life.

How deeply had he loved Bernice? Had her loss left him empty and hurting?

His attention shifted to Evan.

Perhaps, she thought with startling clarity, he wondered about his son, wondered if the poor child would recover from his loss and mistreatment. A fierceness filled her.

“We must never give up on him. We must believe the best for him and secure the best for him.”

His look was somewhat startled, and then he smiled. His smile gave way to a chuckle. “And if a Marshall decrees it, it will be so?” He sobered so suddenly it left her dizzy. “I hope I can live up to that standard. That I don’t fail my son.”

“Failure is not in my vocabulary,” she said with so much conviction that his eyebrows headed for his hairline. She rose, her intention to go to the stove and finish supper preparations.

“That’s an ominous thought.”

She turned and faced him. Would he understand that she meant to prove her worth? That it was in the best interests of him and his son? And her, of course. He seemed to have thought her words carried a warning. “When I set my mind to something, I generally manage to do it.”

Grandfather jerked awake in time to hear her words. “The Marshalls are a stubborn bunch,” he said.

“Not stubborn,” she corrected. “Determined, strong-minded...” And then the perfect word came to mind. “Committed.” Feeling she’d made herself clear, she continued with supper preparations.

Not until she turned to set the table did she see that Hugh watched her. She wished she could say he looked thoughtful. Even grateful that a woman with such strong ideals was willing to be his helpmate. The look in his eyes could best be described as bleak.

Her insides faltered, though she determined she wouldn’t reveal it.

Did he find the prospect of sharing his life with her so unappealing?

Was there something wrong with her? Was that why Rudy had left?

Her confidence wavered, then she lifted her chin and reminded herself she could out-bake, out-clean, out-take-care-of anyone near or far.

And she had four weeks to prove it to him.

She served up a meal that would have made her brothers express gratitude—mounds of creamy mashed potatoes, smooth rich gravy, tender roast beef from the supply of meat in the woodshed, and a colorful array of carrots and winter turnips. Hugh ate distractedly as if the food meant nothing to him.

Huh. Wait until she served the chocolate pudding she’d made.

A recipe handed down from her mother. Mama said her own mother had taught her to make it.

She dished out servings of the pudding to everyone.

Again, Hugh ate without comment, almost without conscious thought of what filled his spoon.

Little Evan, at least, gave a barely audible sigh of pleasure.

Grandfather pushed away his clean bowl. “Thank you for the great meal.”

“You’re welcome.”

She vowed she would not look at Hugh or expect a comment from him.

He sucked in air and sat up like a man waking from a dream. “Yes, thank you. A lovely meal.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome.”

He leaned back in his chair and stared into the distance as she cleaned up.

Grandfather moved to his chair, a book open on his lap. She expected he’d doze again, but his eyes were open, and he watched Hugh and then looked at Annie.

She knew him well enough to see the warning in his gaze and wondered what he meant. However, she wouldn’t ask because she had no intention of changing her mind.

Hugh stirred himself. “It’s time for bed.” He tipped his head to indicate he meant for Evan. Perhaps the prospect of the scene that would ensue explained his contemplative silence.

Annie sat at the table with the storybook and spoke to Evan. “It’s time for a bedtime story. Do you want to hear about the bear or the fox?”

He stared at the wall.

“The bear?” She paused, allowing him time to indicate his preference.

Nothing.

“The fox?”

The slightest twitch of his shoulders.

“The fox it is, then.” She read a story about an inquisitive little fox who liked to run ahead of his mama fox.

The mother fox was always warning him to wait for her, but he was in a hurry and rushed onward, never looking to the right or the left for danger.

One day, he ran right into a trap. The hunter would have gotten him, except a kindly little boy came and set him free.

The moral of the story is that we do things that trap us in sin, but Jesus sets us free.

Annie didn’t think the moral applied to Evan’s situation. Please, God, give me the right words for him.

She thought of something her mama had said a long time ago. “My big brother Dawson once teased me and made me so angry I took the china doll he’d given me and smashed its head.”

Both Hugh and Evan regarded her with shock.

“I was immediately sorry, but I couldn’t undo what I’d done.

Mama was not happy with me, but I told her it was Dawson’s fault because he teased me so much.

” As she looked back, she wondered how she could have been so upset.

As far as she could remember, Dawson had only said she was too little to go with him and her other brothers.

They didn’t need a little tagalong sister following them.

“You know what my mama said? ‘Dawson is hurt that you destroyed something he gave you, but you hurt yourself much worse than you hurt Dawson.’ She went on to say, ‘You can’t control what others do, but you can trust that God cares for you and sees how much your brother’s teasing hurts you.

When things like this happen, remember what God says. ’”

She let the comfort of her mother’s advice fill her thoughts before she finished. “‘I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.’”

She spoke directly to Evan, pleased when he didn’t turn away from her. “God helped your papa find you. Now you are safe. You’re free from bad people who treated you wrong. You don’t need to be afraid.”

Evan ducked his head, but she knew he heard each of her words and prayed they would begin a healing process in him.

One word from Annie’s story stood out in Hugh’s mind.

Trapped. A certain, sure warning to him.

Annie was eager now for this position. It was new, exciting, challenging.

How long before she felt trapped? He couldn’t find an answer.

Didn’t care for the one that said it wouldn’t be long.

But for now, he appreciated her attempt to help Evan see he didn’t need to be afraid any longer.

“I’ll say our bedtime prayers.” He uttered a simple prayer, though inside, where God alone heard, he asked for Evan to be normal and for a woman who wouldn’t feel trapped in his life.

And then it was time for the dreaded going-to-bed routine.

Annie pushed to her feet. “Bedtime, Evan.” She gave Hugh an encouraging smile.

Evan crowded into his corner and began to pump his legs in an attempt to keep Hugh away.

Knowing he must do so, Hugh scooped the boy up, restraining his arms and legs and holding him so he couldn’t bite.

Annie stayed at Hugh’s side. “You’re safe, Evan,” she murmured. “You don’t need to be afraid. No one is going to hurt you.” She followed to the bedroom, crooning words of comfort and encouragement all the way.

Hugh lowered Evan to the mattress, and he scurried into the corner, his gaze wary.

Annie started to sing softly. “The Lord’s my shepherd, I’ll not want.”

Evan shifted his attention to her, openly watching as he pulled the quilt around him.

She sang the song through three times as Evan’s eyes slowly drooped.

“I think he’s almost asleep,” Hugh whispered.

“I’ll tiptoe out.”

Evan’s eyes jerked open, and he watched her, but before she made it out the door, his eyes closed again.

Hugh stared at him a moment. This was a vast improvement over the last few days. It was all due to Annie, and for a moment, wishing and warning warred in his heart. It was too early to go to bed. Besides, he had things he needed to say, and he tiptoed after Annie.

She turned at the sound of his footsteps. “Is he okay?”

“Almost asleep. I’ll be able to watch the door from the sitting room. Are you anxious to go to bed, or do you want to visit for a while?”

“Visit? That sounds nice.”

He heard the warning in her voice, but whether or not she welcomed it, there were matters that needed to be cleared up. He waved her to a big armchair and chose one that allowed him a clear view of the bedroom. He had only to shift his attention to his right to see Annie.

She watched him but as soon as she saw his gaze on her, she shifted to look through to the kitchen where her grandfather slept by the warm stove.

“If you’re cold I could light the fire.” He indicated the fireplace.

“No. This is fine.” Someone had left an afghan draped over the arm of the chair, and she pulled it across her knees.

Satisfied she was comfortable for the time being, he said, “Those are good stories you read. They have excellent teaching points.”

She smiled. “No doubt that’s why my mother chose that book. She believed in using every available teaching moment.” She looked thoughtful. “I’m hoping I can do the same for Evan.”

He gave her time to muse before he brought up one of the subjects on his mind. “I couldn’t help thinking we could all learn something from that fox.”

“I doubt you’re referring to our Savior freeing us from sin.” Her eyes were guarded.

“I don’t want to see you trapped by a decision you’ve made in haste.” He detected a slight narrowing of her eyes.

“And what decision would that be?”

He chose to ignore the warning note in her voice. “For some reason, right now, you feel you want a future like this.” He waved his arm around, hoping she understood what he meant—him, a loveless marriage, a troubled child.

“You’re suggesting I’m like Freddie Fox—running into danger, not heeding warnings?”

“I’ve tried to warn you.”

She held his gaze in wordless resistance, not relenting one inch.

He glanced down the hall to make sure Evan hadn’t wandered out of the bedroom, then he leaned forward to meet her gaze.

“Annie, who is Rudy?”

It gave him no pleasure to see shock and pain cross her features before she covered them with a mask of indifference.