Place Of Her Own by Lynn A. Coleman

to hire him to stud?”
    Shelton smiled. “I’m living with Urias O’Leary. When your mare is in season, send word to me through him, and Kehoe and I will come on over.”
    “Wonderful. Have you considered racing him professionally? Could earn you some additional income. And those events can be good exhibitions for getting the word out about the stud service.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind.” Shelton looked at the setting sun. “I’d best be getting home. Good night, Mr. Crockett.”
    “Good night, Mr. Greene.” Mr. Crockett handed him his pay envelope.
    Shelton stuffed it in his pocket. He had earned the man’s respect, but only after he’d been fired. How could he send for his parents if he couldn’t find gainful employment?
    As he turned his horse toward home, his hands stung from the opened blisters. The idea of Katherine’s gentle fingers on these fresh wounds sent a glimmer of emotion through him. But what emotion? The word
acceptance
came to mind. Was that what he was feeling? His father and mother had accepted his help with the family finances, but only after the bankers told Hiram there was no other alternative. Urias and Prudence showed genuine concern for him, but he didn’t feel exactly at home in their house. The time had come for him to make his own mark in the world. But how?
    Kehoe kept a gentle canter back to the farm. Shelton decided he needed to spend more time in prayer. Then he’d talk with Urias and see if he could come up with some ideas. With the pending stud fee and the sale of the foal, maybe he could convince the bank to give him a loan for his own farm. He had proof back in Hazel Greene of the profits he’d made from the breeding of his horses. Would that be enough for the bank to take a risk?
    As he came up to the barn, he saw Urias loading his wagon with Katherine’s belongings. A jolt of concern raced through his heart. “What’s going on?”

seven
    Katherine sat on her bed, perplexed at the events that had occurred over the past hour. When Grandma Mac found her in the garden sanctuary, she’d told the dear old woman how foolish she felt for wanting a little privacy, a place of her own. The next thing she knew, they were marching back to Urias’s house and Grandma Mac was informing the family that Katherine was moving in with her. The family agreed it was a wonderful idea since Grandma Mac could use the company now that her husband had passed on.
    “What can I carry out to the wagon?” Shelton appeared in her doorway, looking like an Irish warrior prepared to defend the honor of a maid.
    “The quilt can go, but the rest of the bedding will stay here.”
    He held out his hands for the quilt. “Anything else?”
    “Shelton,” she cried out when she saw the wounds on his wonderful, sensitive hands. She ran to his side and examined the blisters more closely. “What happened?”
    Shelton shuffled back and forth on his feet. “I’ve been working at Crockett’s mill for a couple days. My hands aren’t used to that kind of work.”
    “Let me cleanse them.”
    “They’ll be fine.” He tried to stuff them in his pockets, but quickly pulled them out again. “Why are you moving?” “It was Grandma Mac’s idea.”
    Prudence walked in. “And when Grandma Mac gets her mind bent on something …” She started folding up the quilt.
    “Well, let’s just say folks respect their elders here.”
    Katherine returned her attention to the wounds on Shelton’s hands. “Did you wear gloves?” She took a cool compress and drizzled water over the wounds. Dirt and grit had worked their way into some of the open sores.
    Urias appeared in the doorway. “He’s a sensitive boy,” he said with a smirk. Prudence giggled.
    “I am not a boy,” Shelton seethed. “And yes, I was wearing gloves.”
    “Just teasing. I know you’ve been working hard. Mr. Crockett makes a man do an hour and a half’s work in an hour.”
    Shelton’s shoulders relaxed. Katherine fought off the