Seasons of Bliss (Saskatchewan Saga Book #4) by Ruth Glover Page A

Nothing else, of course, would have persuaded her to make the offer to Robbie that he had found irresistible.
    “Aye. There’s an auld acquaintance of mine just coom—”
    “From Scotland, Rob? How wonderful!”
    “Aye, from Binkiebrae, in fact, and I’ve been invited to eat supper at the Blooms’ tomorra and have a guid visit.”
    “Would you like to have your friend eat supper with us one night?” Alice made the offer hesitantly and seemed relieved when Robbie, quickly, thanked her and declined.
    “Perhaps it’s best,” she said quietly, then offered a small, apologetic smile.
    Robbie helped clear the table and he and the boys did the dishes, he washing and the boys wiping, while Alice, at Robbie’s suggestion, took the rocking chair and watched, her eyes shadowed, her forehead, even in rest, beading slightly.
    The shadows were long when the wood box was filled and the house chores completed. Robbie’s last task for the day was to prepare the boys for bed—it saved Alice so much wear and tear, for they were lively and loved to scuffle. He knew, however, that it pained her not to be able to do this intimate thing for them, and so, when they were finally tucked in, he set a lamp by the bedside, and a chair, then handed Alice one of their favorite books and saw her settle for a happy few minutes with her “chicks,” as she called them.
    Robbie was weary as he made his way homeward. It was too dark to take the shortcut; he went the longer way around, by the road. Soon now it would be light almost until the midnight hour; soon now there would be even more tasks to fill his day, and he would need the longer working hours. The gardens would flourish and need attention, the young calves would arrive, and the baby chickens. The frost was gone and it was time for seeding; there was always wood to get up for the fires next winter . . . and Alice, Alice would do less and less to help. There would come a day when he would have full charge of the boys, when he would care for her.
    Robbie drew a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. To have the extra land, to increase his acreage, to move into the larger, better house, perhaps to bring the rest of his family from Scotland—it was a dream come true and worth every effort and sacrifice it called for.
    Wasn’t it?

T his girl makes the best cup of tea I’ve tasted since coming to the territories!” Lydia Bloom declared, holding her bone china cup daintily at chin level and looking over its gold-tipped edge with satisfaction.
    There were few luxuries in the bush; teatime, for those accustomed to it and determined to hang onto a shred of civilization, was one of them.
    “Not to mention the scones,” Herbert added, biting generously into a warm one slathered with raspberry jam—not that the worm-riddled raspberries of the bush were responsible for it. No, fortunately Herbert and Lydia could augment that skimpy supply with store-bought items. Another luxury.
    Ordinarily no self-respecting homesteader would be caught having tea in the afternoon; it was a foolish, foppish thing to do. But Herbert had gained a measure of independence throughthe acquisition of a hired man. It was another luxury, of course, but one Herbert felt he could well consider at this time in his life. The farm was beginning to produce and, if crops were decent (the growing season was, at best, one hundred days), he would come out ahead at the end of the year.
    Herbert Bloom was more fortunate than most; he had sold a lucrative business—a string of three grocery stores—before he made his move west. He might never have done so, of course, if Lavinia, his only daughter, hadn’t married a dreamer, a dreamer who put feet to his visions. And where had they taken him? Westward to the vast lands being opened and claimed by others with a like sense of adventure. No matter that it was largely uncharted; no matter that they broke trail most of the way. For all of them, struggle and adversity were accepted as