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these years. We’ll do fine in the years to come. You’ll see.”
    She shook her head. “Angus Grace was a mean sort. You know how I felt about him and the way he treated Julia. Can’t help thinking the world’s a better place without him in it, God have mercy on his miserable soul. But I don’t trust Charlie Prescott. He might seem nicer on the outside, but I don’t think he is. He wants Sage-hen, and if he gets it, he’ll want our land next. Nothing he has will ever be enough. Mark my words.”
    “Let’s let tomorrow’s trouble take care of itself.” Peter put his arm around her shoulders and leaned close to plant a kiss on the top of her head.
    Rose sighed. Her husband would never change, and she was glad of it. He kept her on a steady course, this man of the soil. They’d had twenty years as husband and wife and had come through plenty of life’s storms. But they’d seen them through side-by-side.
    Giving her shoulder a squeeze, Peter said, “If God is for us, who can be against us?”
    No, nothing she said would change her husband, and she wouldn’t want it to. So she simply smiled up at him before leaning her head against his shoulder as they walked out of the barn together.

FIVE
    Hugh awakened on Sunday morning to the sound of rain on the barn and thunder rolling in the distance. Satisfaction with a job well-done brought a smile to his lips. He’d patched the roof just in time. The loft would stay dry no matter how long or hard it stormed.
    Lying on his back, he put his hands under his head and stared at the ceiling. The cool air that swirled through the open door smelled fresh and moist. And despite the room being almost as small as a prison cell, no dread of a closed space threatened. Not this morning. He’d slept sound, without any nightmares. Maybe the bad memories were beginning to fade. Maybe, with God’s help, they wouldn’t torture him any longer.
    Closing his eyes, he thanked the Lord for His tender mercies, then pushed off the covers and sat up. Another clap of thunder sounded, this one much closer than the last. His horse — in one of the stalls to protect his bad leg — snorted his objection to the clatter.
    At supper the previous evening, Julia had informed Hugh that he wasn’t expected to do any work on the Lord’s Day other than to make certain the livestock had food and water. He’d asked if shewould be going into town to attend church services in the morning, thinking he might join her. She’d answered with a shake of her head but had given no reason. He wondered why. What could the reason be? He was certain she was a believer.
    But it’s not my business why .
    He rose, poured some water into a large porcelain bowl, and washed his face. After dressing, he left his quarters, walking to the barn door. He didn’t have to open it to know it was raining cats and dogs. He opened it anyway.
    The heavens were a dark pewter, slung low to the earth, the barnyard all puddles and mud. No chickens were visible outside the coop. Smart birds. A horse in the nearby corral stood with his rump to the wind, his head down and eyes closed. A glance toward the house told Hugh his employer hadn’t slept in. Smoke was momentarily visible above the cook-stove chimney before being swept away by the storm.
    The front door opened, and Julia stepped onto the porch just as a flash of lightning illuminated the barnyard, followed a heartbeat later by a crash of thunder. The entire barn seemed to shudder, and Hugh flinched, half-expecting the building to tumble down around his ears.
    Mighty glad I’m not out in this, Lord. Thanks for providing a place to stay .
    “Mr. Brennan!”
    He looked toward the porch again and saw Julia motion for him to join her.
    “Breakfast,” she added before returning inside.
    There was no way to get to the house without getting soaked, but he wasn’t about to forego a meal because of rain. He leaned the top of his head into the wind and ran across the barnyard, trying