A Hopeful Heart by Kim Vogel Sawyer Page A

her eyes in obvious distaste, and turned back to Tressa. “You do understand what I’m saying?”
    Tressa licked her lips. Although the girls had worked side-by-side for the past several days at Mrs. Wyatt’s ranch, she and Evelyn had never exchanged more than a few words in passing. Confusion clouded her mind at having the girl offer advice. “No. I confess, I don’t understand.”
    Evelyn released a long-suffering sigh. “Think about it, Tressa. You marry a man twice your age. He dies while you’re still young, leaving you his money. Then you’re free to take that money and leave this godforsaken territory and have a decent life somewhere else.”
    Tressa reared back. How could Evelyn be so coldhearted? As if Tressa would marry someone merely to assume control of his possessions! Then something else occurred to her. “But if he’s the best prospect in town, why don’t you pursue him yourself?”
    Evelyn’s gaze drifted to the prairie once more. “I have no intention of marrying any of these bumpkins, no matter how well established.” She pursed her lips. “I’m only here because my father is trying to teach me a lesson. I refused to wed the man he chose for me. He sent me away to give me an opportunity to regret my rebellion.” A wry smile curled her lips. “His plan was successful. Now that I’ve seen the alternative to accepting Father’s choice, I’m ready to concede defeat. Besides . . .” Her smile turned cunning. “The doddering old fool Father has selected can’t last more than a few more years. When he’s gone, I’ll be his heir. My father was right all along.”
    Tressa turned away from Evelyn’s smug face. To her relief, Mrs. Wyatt’s house loomed in the distance. Pressing her palms to the floor of the rattling wagon, she battled the urge to leap over the side and run the remainder of the distance so she could be free of the present company. Luella’s flirtatious ways, Evelyn’s heartless conniving, and the others’ frivolous behavior made her wish to be anywhere but there.
    But where would she go? The thought brought her up short. When she left Mrs. Wyatt’s for good, it would be to another ranch in the area. To be a rancher’s wife. Heat flooded her cheeks as the faces of the men from church paraded through her memory. She shuddered, remembering young Gage’s leering wink, and her skin prickled in memory of the elder Hammond’s hand on her arm. But when the image of the rancher named Abel crossed her mind, she relaxed.
    Abel . . . the man with eyes like Papa. The man whose serious expression seemed to indicate he needed cheering as much as Tressa did. The man who had rescued her hat.
    Lifting her eyes to the crystal blue sky overhead, Tressa wondered who Papa might choose as her beau if he were still alive.

6
    “See there, Isabella?” Tressa tipped the pail slightly so the cat could peek over the brim. “A full bucket. And look.” She held her hands outward, flexing her fingers. The nails were chipped and calluses decorated her palms—such a change in appearance in a week and a half of labor— but the movement proved effortless. “They hardly hurt at all. That means I’m getting better at milking, wouldn’t you agree?”
    The cat twitched the white tip of her tail and stared at Tressa with unblinking yellow eyes.
    Tressa grimaced. “You’re right, I am the last one in the barn . . . again. But I didn’t need anyone else’s help, and the bucket is full. So I still assert I’m showing improvement.”
    Isabella yawned and then lifted one paw to give it a thorough wash with her rough pink tongue.
    Tressa laughed. “You aren’t very encouraging, puss, but I’m glad you’re here anyway.” She scratched the cat’s chin, raising an immediate rumbling purr. Over the past days, she and Isabella had become fast friends. Although puzzled by the cat’s fondness for her, she still found it flattering that Isabella preferred her company over that of the other girls on the