Autumn Lover by Elizabeth Lowell

right. You’ve been under the weather lately. Make the coffee, would you? I never can bring myself to add enough beans to turn it into Missouri mud.”
    Smiling, Penny reached for the tin that held coffee beans. She poured a handful into the coffee mill and turned the crank. The harsh yet companionable sound of coffee being ground soon filled the ranch kitchen.
    As always, a pot of beans simmered at the back of the stove, basic rations for men who worked cattle. But the Ladder S had a tradition of feeding its hands better than most ranches, so there was bacon sizzling in a pan, dried fruit stewing in a pot, fresh biscuits baking, and fresh bread in the making.
    Because Elyssa kept a kitchen and herb garden that would have been the envy of many a small estate, the Ladder S food had more savor than was common. Some of the cowhands might not have appreciated the difference, but Elyssa did.
    Humming beneath the sound of the grinder, she snipped up a final sprig of rosemary, added it to thebread dough, mixed well, and turned the dough out of the bowl onto the flour-dusted counter to knead.
    “Such a pretty tune you’re humming,” Penny said as she paused in the noisy grinding. “What is it?”
    “Just a waltz I heard before I left England. I don’t even remember the name, but I woke up this morning humming it.”
    “Don’t you wish sometimes that you were still in London with all those teas and fancy balls?”
    “No,” Elyssa said. “I didn’t belong there.”
    “Sometimes I think Gloria missed it.”
    “My mother was born there. I was born here.”
    “But you look just like she did.”
    “Not really.” Elyssa kneaded bread energetically. “In any case, it’s only skin-deep.”
    “That’s more than enough to draw every man’s eye,” Penny said with faint envy.
    “Not every man,” Elyssa said, thinking of Hunter. “Not the men who are worth having.”
    The line of Penny’s mouth said that she disagreed, but she spoke no more about it. She emptied out the small drawer of the coffee grinder into a pot, added more beans, and went to work again.
    Elyssa sifted a bit more flour onto the counter and returned to kneading with quick, smooth motions.
    By the time the dough was ready to divide into individual loaves, Penny had ground up a third batch of beans and was putting the coffee on to boil. Occasionally she gave sideways looks at Elyssa, as though waiting for her to speak. Finally Penny couldn’t wait any longer.
    “I thought I heard someone ride in after dark last night,” Penny said, her voice subtly strained. “Was it Bill?”
    “No. It was a man called Hunter. Our new foreman.”
    As Elyssa spoke, she cut the dough into four loaves.
    “Truly?” Penny asked. “Will he be able to help us?”
    “Unless I kill him first.”
    Penny looked up from the stove. Her brown eyes were wide.
    “I beg your pardon?” Penny asked.
    “The man is rude.”
    “Oh. Then why did you hire him?”
    “Why do you think?” Elyssa said, shaping loaves vigorously. “We need him.”
    “If only Bill…”
    Penny’s mouth flattened and her voice faded into silence.
    “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride,” Elyssa said succinctly.
    Penny looked down at the stove and said nothing.
    “Ruddy hell,” Elyssa said under her breath. Then, gently, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it as harshly as it sounded.”
    Elyssa came quickly to the stove and hugged Penny.
    “All I meant was that Bill can’t help anyone right now, even himself,” Elyssa said softly. “I know how hard it is on you to see your very old friend being such a ruddy stupid bas—er, so stubborn.”
    Penny nodded and made a stifled sound. Tendrils of shiny brown hair slid out from beneath her gingham cap and clung to her cheeks. Her eyes brimmed with sudden tears.
    Elyssa felt an overwhelming tenderness toward the older woman. Normally Penny was as steady emotionally as a rock. But the longer Bill’s drinking went on, the more tightly strung Penny