Had reminding him of Anthony's desire given him pause, or was he preparing a different argument?

If her sister had been here, she'd be sending her evil glares. Violet had always accused her of arguing for argument's sake and chastened her to hold her tongue, and maybe avoid another beating from Violet's heavy-handed husband.

Of course, losing an argument with her brother-in-law only landed her in the attic with a bruised body. If she couldn't win this one, Anthony's life was at risk. Mourning his mother was more than enough for him to deal with right now. "So we agree. Anthony's desire to remain with me needs to be adhered to-"

"No, we don't agree. I was just trying to figure out how I'd earned your ire."

"You don't think Lucinda would've told me about you?"

"I don't think she could have. She didn't know me."

Didn't know him? What did that mean? She was his wife. "So I'm to ignore everything she ever said about you and pretend you're a saint?"

"I'm no saint."

She crossed her arms. "Well good. We agree on something."

He chuckled, and she blinked. Her brother-in-law never would've laughed during an argument.

"I do believe you could sear off skin quicker than a firebrand."

"What?"

"Right. You're not a farm girl." He rubbed his hand over his face. "Look, I think we've gotten off the tracks and bogged ourselves in a mud pit. Let's start over. I know you've feelings for the boy, and Lucy probably did ask you to see after him, but he's likely mine. The fact of the matter is, I'll be the most capable of providing for-"

"Children need more than food and clothing. They need to be loved for who they are, not what they can do."

"Of course they do-"

"I can provide for Anthony. I assure you." She straightened, trying to add at least an inch in height. "I can offer him what he needs most."

"In the future, he'll need more than love, Miss Dawson. He'll need to learn how to work, and-"

"Exactly why he can't go with you!" She sliced her hand through the air. "I won't let you get ahold of Anthony and teach him how to work the way you taught his mother. Over my dead body."

Silas flinched at the dead body reference.

Kate slapped a hand over her mouth.

He tried not to imagine Lucy's form lying beneath her threadbare sheet on the other side of the wall, but failed.

She dropped her hand and cleared her throat. "I think I might have gotten a little carried away there."

He'd heard redheaded women could be spitfires, but this woman only had a hint of auburn in her tangled locks. Good thing God saved the world from the wrath of a full-blown redheaded Kate Dawson.

He wasn't close to righteous-he basically fouled the air standing beside anything godly. Still, that didn't mean he wasn't right for the boy. But how to convince this pretty little firebrand to give up her claim?

"I know I'm a stranger to you and Anthony, but if you consider the situation practically, a man's protection and provision will give him the best future."

"I don't worry about tomorrow. 'For the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself.'"

A Scripture-spouting woman. "True. We shouldn't worry about tomorrow, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't plan for it."

"I won't let Anthony live with a man who treated his mother so poorly. Do you deny it?"

"That I treated her poorly?" He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "No."

"Then Anthony won't be a part of your future. Excuse me." Kate marched toward the stairwell, where a flicker of movement caught his attention in the shadows.

Anthony.

The boy's eyes narrowed before he disappeared down the stairs.

Had they said anything the boy shouldn't have overheard?

His feet urged him to go talk to the boy, but what could he say right now, when Miss Dawson was clearly not in the right frame of mind to hold a genial conversation? Whatever had he done to make Lucy paint him so badly to her friend and son? He might not have been the best husband, but he certainly hadn't been an evil one either.

When the sound of both of their footsteps faded, he entered Lucy's room and crossed over to her bed, taking a long look at her sad, still form. Would Kate return with Anthony, or would she take him away so he couldn't find him? He shouldn't have let them out of his sight.

But he couldn't abandon his wife with the coroner on the way either.

Nothing about Anthony's features shouted that he was his offspring, but if his praying for the last four years hadn't gained him the forgiveness he'd sought from his wife, surely God was consoling him with the one thing he wanted even more.

A family.

He pulled the threadbare sheet up to cover his wife's motionless form.

If this Kate Dawson thought heated words would deter him from raising the boy, she was mistaken.

Chapter 3.

Shivering in the ice-cold drizzle, Kate eyed Silas across the open grave. He wasn't the tallest person in the small group gathered to see Lucinda interred, but he certainly was the broadest. Farm work had to be demanding to bulk up a man like that.

The pastor called for silent prayer while the gravedigger covered the coffin. Kate squeezed Anthony's cold hand and stared at their feet.

Lord, please help me figure out how to deal with Mr. Jonesey. I can't let Anthony go unless I know he's going with someone who'll care for him-I just can't.

A flicker of movement across the way made Kate peek from her prayer. Silas wasn't praying like the rest of them-he was walking. Was he leaving? Hopefully.

She pulled Anthony closer, his right shoulder damp from jutting out from beneath her small umbrella, his little frame shivering. She rubbed her hand briskly against his well-worn, too-short sleeve, keeping her eye on Silas.

Please help me know what to do. I mean, Lucinda knew who Anthony's father was, yet she wanted him left in my care. That has to mean something. How can I let a stranger take a boy who's already escaped one man's loveless household, to live with another who's more likely to give him a hoe than a hug?

Last night, she'd found Anthony in the stairwell though she'd told him to go downstairs. She couldn't chastise him for eavesdropping though; the poor kid was likely more uncertain about his future than she was.

He hadn't been impressed with Silas and had begged her not to let him take him home.

She'd fully expected Silas to put up a fuss when she told him she was taking Anthony to stay with her at the Logans' last night, but he'd said that was a good idea.

What if he wasn't the man Lucinda had painted him to be? Or what if he truly was Anthony's father? Could she let this precious boy go? She held Anthony tighter with each step Silas took.

He walked straight toward Anthony while pulling off his slicker.

"What are you-" Kate bit her lip. Her strangled voice had ruptured the reverent silence and drawn people's narrow-eyed glares.

Silas walked behind them and wrapped the coat around Anthony. The boy tried to shrug the slicker off with exaggerated movements, but she squeezed his hand.

"Be civil," she whispered into his ear. They shouldn't cause a scene, and well, Anthony needed the warmth. He was too skinny and his coat inadequate.

"Thank you for coming." Reverend Beasley finally nodded from his reverie. "I'm sure Lucinda's son would welcome your prayers and condolences, and her husband as well."

A few looked at them in surprise. Their gazes locked onto Silas. Did they wonder why he'd bothered to come when he'd left Lucinda alone for so long?

Yet there he stood, coatless with no umbrella, acting as if the rain and cold didn't bother him, staring at his wife's resting place, his hands shoved deep inside his pockets, as if warmth could be found inside his pants' soggy fabric.

What a pitiful sight he was. If she had a hat, she'd have handed him her umbrella.

Mr. Yi, the owner of the laundry, walked over first. He held out his hand to Silas. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Riverton."

Silas grasped the man's hand but said nothing to correct Mr. Yi about his name.

"Sorry about your mother." Mr. Yi laid a lye-scarred hand on Anthony's shoulder. "I wish I could have employed her for longer time, but it is good thing you have an angel." He grasped Kate's hand and pressed something into her palm. He threw a glance at Silas before leaning closer, the smell of onions and cloves residing in his skin. "Please use this for care of boy," he whispered. "I wish I had more to give you."

At least Mr. Yi knew who the boy should stay with. "Yes, sir. I'll do my best."

"I'm sorry, young man." Mr. Kingfisher, the school superintendent, appeared next. After clapping Anthony on the shoulder, he turned to her. "I need to talk with you, Miss Dawson."

"Now? In the rain?" Kate's heartbeat ramped up at the tone of his voice. The two times Mr. Kingfisher had condescended to talk with her was to award her the teaching position despite her lack of credentials and to complain about her classroom's lack of tidiness.

She'd left her school chores unfinished to run to Lucinda's deathbed, but surely Mr. Kingfisher wouldn't chastise her for dusty classroom corners at a funeral. Unless Miss Jennings complained again. "This isn't the most convenient time for me to talk-"

"We can just step aside here." He threw a sidelong glance toward Anthony.

Silas stepped closer to Anthony. "It's all right." He nodded at them both, as if they were in agreement.

"Miss Dawson?" Mr. Kingfisher held out his elbow.

A couple stood dripping in front of them, staring at her as they waited patiently to talk to Anthony.

Kate squeezed his shoulder. "I won't be long."

Under a nearby oak, Mr. Kingfisher shook off his umbrella. "Nasty weather we're having for the end of September."

"Yes." She didn't care about the weather. Every funeral should be dreary. "I'm sorry, but why do we need to talk so badly you pulled me away from a grieving child?"

He shifted his weight. "The Logans came to me this morning wanting to be clear on what they'd signed up for."

"What they'd signed up for?" Her stomach tightened into a knot. This didn't sound promising.

"It's difficult to get families to take in our teachers. We don't have enough money to raise your salaries, so rooming with families is your best option."

Was he trying to make her feel like a burden?

"The Logans signed up to keep and feed you-just you, not a little boy as well."

She stared at her hands. The Logans had been nicer than the Ishams last year, but they definitely acted put out with her presence. "I haven't told them yet, but I intend to compensate them for Anthony's food."

"They aren't excited about entertaining a boy with a house full of daughters either."

So if they'd had a son, they would've allowed Anthony to live with them? "I suppose I'll move into the boardinghouse, then." There went the money to buy him a new coat and shoes and updates for her wardrobe.

Mr. Kingfisher sighed. "I know you've grown attached to the boy, but since his father has shown up-"

"Did Mr. Jonesey tell you he was the father?"

Mr. Kingfisher's mouth puckered. "I'd assumed."

"He didn't even know about the boy." She glanced back at Silas and froze.

Behind Silas loomed a man she'd never wanted to see again.

Richard.

"Excuse me." Could this nightmare get any worse? She picked up her skirts and sprinted toward them.

Silas stood behind Anthony as a woman tried to squeeze the boy in two.

Richard moved toward Anthony the moment the woman let go.

Sliding in mud, Kate almost tripped over a headstone. "Silas!"

He startled and looked at her in surprise.

Who cared that she'd used his Christian name? Didn't he hear the alarm in her voice?

Richard doffed his well-worn felt hat, leaving his dark hair a bit ruffled, and gestured toward the fresh grave. "Sorry about your mother, son. Say good-bye to your friend now, so we can get you packed."

"What?" Silas pulled Anthony to him.

Finally he did something worthwhile.