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and say I’ve gotta earn my keep.”
    His shoulders relaxed. “ Gut. Sehr g —Good. Very good.” He smacked his hand against the cart. “This can stay here, and I’ll take Hattie to the barn.”
    She grinned at him. “Sehr gut.”
    Jakob paused a moment on the bottom step. “Good morning, Miss Ladley.”
    “ Guten morgen, Mr. Stauffer.” Her voice came out in a low, pleasant tone. She remained seated in the chair closest to the oven and finished lacing her boot. “Is there something special you’d like for breakfast?”
    “Anything, so long as there’s a lot and it’s hot.” Since she’d yanked down her skirts and rose, he felt it acceptable to stride past her. With Annie not feeling her best, Jakob had grown accustomed to stoking the oven fire and setting the coffeepot over the heat. Instead, the first hint of the rich aroma of a pot just starting to brew wafted toward him. Last evening, he’d tried to find a way to tell this woman that she’d have to work harder than what might ordinarily be expected because allowances needed to be made for his sister. Instead, Miss Ladley pointed out the issue and volunteered to ease things for Annie. This was a good sign—the housekeeper had gotten up and come down to get the morning started.
    A few minutes later, the sunrise silhouetted Miss Ladley in the barn’s open doorway. Jakob quirked a brow. “Did you need something?”
    “I came to milk the cow.”
    “We have two milch cows. Phineas and I trade—one day, I milk and he mucks; the next day, he milks and I muck.”
    “Two cows? So there are about forty gallons of milk each day?”
    “Ja. Whatever we do not use or sell goes to the swine. I’m fattening them for slaughter.”
    “The butter yesterday—it came out very yellow. The color told me the pasture is good, so you aren’t using much hay. Do you normally sell the milk, or has your sister skimmed the cream and made butter and cheese to sell?”
    Pain lanced through him. “No one makes hard cheese.” Not anymore. Naomi had been adept at making a fine cheddar. In fact, one year, when they were starting out, her egg and cheese money paid for the wheat seed.
    “If’n you got any rennet, I don’t mind makin’ some cheese. Might be, it takes a few days ere I get to it, though.”
    “Other chores are essential.”
    “And I’d best better get to ’em.” Her faded brown-checked skirts swirled as she turned and left.
    Whirlwinds. Dust devils. Whatever a man called them, those gusts that came out of nowhere, whipped everything into a crazy spin, then disappeared just as rapidly—they matched Hope Ladley. By supper, she’d probably covered every inch of his house and barnyard twice—and some spots, three or four times for good measure. In a move that took him by surprise, she’d taken a broom to the outside of the house and swept off layers of dust. Why, he couldn’t say for certain. Dust would blow it all right back on. And it coated the left front window she’d washed just yesterday.
    Did I do the right thing, asking her to stay? I acted without praying first. He couldn’t complain about the food, though. Eggs, biscuits, and gravy for breakfast. Cabbage and sausage rolls for lunch. Hearty black bean soup and corn bread for supper.
    But who gathered eggs after lunchtime? And who bothered to do laundry when all they did were socks? Furthermore, what woman in her right mind made only two crocks of watermelon pickles at a time? His mouth watered. He loved them. Annie hadn’t gotten around to making any. Perhaps he ought to fill the wheelbarrow with melons and leave it at the back steps. Surely she’d take that hint.
    His cousin, Miriam, had planted the garden before she left to get married. Naomi had loved her garden, and neither Jakob nor Miriam had the heart to cut back on the size. Two-thirds of an acre now brimmed with vegetables. Loamy soil, an intangible sweet moistness of green leaves, tomato tanginess—aromas that mingled, testified to