ANNA LED THE COLT INTO THE BARNYARD, STOPPING midway between the barn and the house. Chickens clucked in a nearby coop. A horse in the corral nickered a greeting at Shiloh’s Star. Sheets hung on the clothesline flapped in a soft breeze. A dog rose from where it had been sleeping in the shade of a tree and trotted over to sniff at the newcomers. Anna was about to speak to the dog when the screen door on the house squeaked open and a man in bibbed coveralls and a blue shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, stepped onto the porch.
Anna’s heart began to pound. An all-too-familiar fear made her stomach twist. Had she made a mistake, letting herself and Shiloh’s Star be seen by a stranger?
The man moved to the edge of the porch, hesitated, then came down the steps. “Howdy.”
“Hello.”
His gaze swept the barnyard as he walked toward her.
“Isn’t anybody else with me,” she said. “It’s just me and my horse here. I was . . . I was wondering if there’s . . . if there’s any work I could do to earn a meal. We’ve been walking a long time, and I’m powerful hungry.”
“Well, I—”
“Abe.”
Anna looked toward the sound of a woman’s voice. The man did the same.
A woman now stood at the edge of the porch, one hand shading her eyes from the sun. “Let the girl put the horse in the field and bring her inside.”
The man called Abe looked at Anna once again. “My wife says for you to come inside. I reckon she means to feed you, whether we’ve got work for you or not.” He motioned with his hand. “Let’s turn your horse out to pasture.”
He had a good face. A kind face. Clean-shaven but with the shadow of a beard showing. Dark blue eyes, the color of some glass bottles she’d seen in a store once. Friendly eyes. Not cold, the way some blue eyes could be. Some of her fear drained away as she led Shiloh’s Star over to the pasture gate, which Abe opened before her.
“My name’s Abe Leonard. My wife’s name’s Violet.”
She removed the lead rope from the colt’s halter. “I’m Anna. Anna McKenna.”
“Pleased to meet you, Miss McKenna.”
They left the pasture together, neither of them speaking again. When they reached the porch, Anna glanced over her shoulder for another glimpse of Shiloh’s Star before they went into the house. The horse had his face buried in high grass.
In the kitchen, Violet Leonard stirred something that smelled good in a large pot on the stove. “Abe,” she said, “show our guest where to wash up.”
“Yes’m.” He stepped over to the stove and kissed the back of his wife’s neck. “I’ll do that.”
Violet swatted at him with her free hand, although her smile said she wasn’t the least bit annoyed. Just the opposite, in fact.
It made Anna think of her parents. Her mama and daddy had been playful like that, loving to tease each other, loving to smile, loving to laugh. But thinking of her parents made Anna’s throat tighten and unshed tears burn her eyes. She hoped the Leonards wouldn’t notice.
But Violet did notice. Her expression sobered. She put the ladle into Abe’s hand and then hurried to where Anna stood. “What is it, child?” She didn’t wait for an answer before wrapping Anna in her arms. “It’s all right. It’s all right. You go right on and cry if you need to.”
It wasn’t until the tears began to fall, her face pressed against Violet’s shoulder, that Anna realized how long she’d been keeping the sorrow shut up inside her. Ever since her mama’s funeral. She hadn’t let herself cry since that day, although she’d wanted to plenty of times.
“She says her name’s Anna,” Abe said softly.
“It’s all right, Anna. You have a good cry, and then we’ll get you some of that soup to eat and you can tell us what you’re doing here, all on your lonesome.”
THAT NIGHT, HER STOMACH FULL FROM THE BEST dinner she’d eaten in ages, Anna stood near the slightly opened bedroom door, listening to the voices coming from downstairs.
“She’s in trouble, Abe,” Violet Leonard said. “She’s just fourteen and scared. We have to let her stay.”
Abe replied, “How do we know her folks are dead? Maybe she’s got family looking for her.”
“I can’t explain why, but I believe her. She hasn’t told us everything yet. And why would she? She doesn’t know if she can trust us yet. But she’s a good girl who’s mighty afraid for some reason. She needs us. She needs our help.”
“Vi, did you get a look at that colt? Finest piece of horseflesh I’ve ever seen. Where’d a poor orphan girl come by a horse like that? What if she stole him? If we let her stay, we could get in trouble with the law ourselves.”
I didn’t steal him. I never stole anything in my life.
He added, “We ought to send for the sheriff and let him discover the truth.”
Anna’s heart skipped a beat or two. She held her breath. If the law got a hold of her, would they send her back to her cousin? Even if they knew how scared she was of him? Would they let him take Shiloh’s Star?
“Abe . . . please don’t call the sheriff. Please let her stay with us. I feel . . . I feel like God brought her here for a reason. I don’t know why, but that’s what I feel. Will you trust me in this?”
There was a lengthy silence. Anna forced herself to breathe again.
Finally, Abe answered, “All right, Vi. We’ll do it your way. For now.”
Anna eased the door shut, went to the bed, and lay down. She was safe. For at least one night, her stomach was full and she was lying in a soft bed and she didn’t have to be afraid.
In no time at all, sleep overtook her.