Widow of Gettysburg Read Free

practically naked without them. “You’ll forgive me if I ask you to kindly state your business, sir.” She caught Major’s eye and stabbed her finger at the porch floor again until the dog returned to her side.
    He cleared his throat and offered a smile. “I’m a long way from home, and I sure could use a little hospitality.”
    “Do you mean to say that you need a room?”
    “I have neither time nor money for a room, but my bread basket’s been empty for quite a spell.” He laid a hand on his stomach. “Could you spare anything for me to eat?”
    She sighed. Times were tight at Holloway Farm, but she’d never been very good at saying no, to anyone. “Your mount looks as though he could eat something too.” She led them both to the barn where the horse could eat hay and oats, then took the stranger into the summer kitchen. Twenty feet behind the house, this was the small outbuilding where she did most cooking, baking, preserving, and laundry duringthe hottest season of the year. It would serve to feed a stranger without allowing him into the house.
    “Sit there.” She pointed to the rough-hewn table butting up against the old fireplace and crossed the room to slice a loaf cooling on the sideboard. Major spread himself out to dry on the floor in front of the warm stove, the smells of wet dog and fresh bread thickening the air.
    When Libbie turned back to the table, she found the man still standing. He shrugged, his hat still in his hands. “I never sit when a lady still stands. Won’t you join me? Or do you mean to make me stand while I eat alone, like a common beggar?” His smile dissolved any argument on the tip of her tongue, and she allowed him to seat her at the worktable, her face flooding with warmth that did not come from the oven. Even Levi’s manners had not gone this far. But to be fair, Libbie had not expected it. Aunt Helen had raised her to believe that manners were not meant to be wasted on the likes of her. Liberty swallowed. She should not think anything uncharitable of the dead. Either of them.
    The man’s stomach growled as she set the loaf of rye on the table, yet he made no move for it. “Are you waiting for me to serve you?” The question sounded more prickly than she intended.
    “Ladies first.” He nodded at the bread. “You baked it. You should be the first to enjoy it.”
    “Well, you certainly don’t act like a beggar,” Libbie admitted as she helped herself to a steaming piece.
    “Wouldn’t Mama be proud.” He laughed, but a shadow passed over his face. He took a slice for himself then, but before taking a bite, bowed his head for a moment.
    Then he ate. And ate—until the loaf was gone.
    Finally, when the last crumb had disappeared, he leaned back in his chair and raked a hand through his hair. “I haven’t been full in a very long time. Thank you, ma’am.”
    She nodded and stood, and so did he.
    “It doesn’t suit me to take something for nothing, though.” He flicked a glance at the water dimpling in the pie plate. “I can fix that for you.”
    “You needn’t trouble yourself.”
    “Your husband certainly didn’t.” He dropped his gaze to the ring she twisted on her finger. “Perhaps he is away.”
    “Quite. He’s dead.” Libbie bit her tongue in punishment for its bluntness.
    His eyes softened. “I do beg your pardon. I meant no disrespect.”
    “I can get along just fine by myself.” Liberty dropped her voice. “This is my property, and—”
    “Yours?”
    Libbie blinked. Most likely, he thought her too young to own property. “Yes, mine. So I should manage it myself. It wouldn’t do to let you spoil me.”
    One eyebrow hitched up as he looked down at her. “Every woman deserves to be taken care of every now and then, no matter how capable you are.” An easy smile curved his lips. “I’d consider it a pleasure to help.”
    “That isn’t necessary.” To be alone with a man, even for this long—it was almost indecent. Liberty hoped