the past. "I never thought I could forgive your father, but as it happens, Silas McRae is an irresistibly charming man."
Familiar tightness stung Hooper’s throat. "I’ll always admire the Colonel for forgiving Pa. It meant so much to him."
Glancing at his brimming eyes, Dawsey fished for her hankie and wiped tears from her cheeks. "I was awfully proud of Father. Showing mercy to the McRaes didn’t come easy for a man like him."
They rode in silence until Dawsey nudged his shoulder. "If you think about it, God used Tiller to bring us all together. If I hadn’t taken him under my wing, and if you hadn’t come to Fayetteville on a mission to return him to Scuffletown, we never would’ve known such joy."
Hooper chuckled. "You’re right. One skinny, carrot-topped boy set the whole thing in motion. Only Tiller ran away before he saw how well things turned out."
She inhaled sharply. "And we never got to thank him."
Hooper draped his arm around her and tugged her close. "Don’t despair, Dawsey. Our visit home could change all that." He squeezed her shoulders. "And speaking of home, look … we’re here."
Spirits soaring, Hooper turned the wagon down the lane to his old homestead. Peering to see in the early morning light, he could just make out the cabin in the distance. As they drew closer, a dim light shone from the open doorway, and milling shapes were gathering on the porch.
"They’ve heard us coming." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Won’t they be surprised to see it’s us?"
A fact Hooper would soon make clear if he had to call out their names. Despite the few years of relative peace throughout the swamp, there would be half a dozen guns trained on the rig.
Dawsey shifted her weight impatiently. "I still say you should’ve wired ahead."
He shook his head. "The old man knows I’d never leave our farm this time of year. He’d have worried fit to bust until we arrived." He blew a long breath through his nostrils. "I wish we were here on a pleasure trip instead of this distasteful business."
"We’ll get the unpleasantness out of the way first," Dawsey said, patting his hand. "Then we can enjoy ourselves with the family." She peeked up at him. "What do you think Silas will say when he hears the shocking news we’re bringing?"
Hooper’s stomach lurched. "He’ll start all over again blaming himself that Tiller ran off." He tightened his jaw. "I don’t relish causing him hurt, but I have to tell him, Dawsey. I have no choice."
She squeezed his fingers. "Of course you don’t." Her eyes sparkling, Dawsey pointed at a slim figure standing on the porch. "Oh, Hooper! I think that’s Dilsey." She leaned to squint. "Yes, Dilsey’s here, and so are Wyatt and the boys."
He shot her a pained glance. "Do you plan to call her that the whole time we’re here? If so, tell me now while there’s still time to turn around. I’m not in the mood for Ellie’s temper."
Her darting eyes trained on the cabin, Dawsey dragged her attention back to him. "Don’t be silly. I’m the only person Dilsey tolerates on that score, but she allows me the one small indulgence." She gave him a look from under her lashes. "It’s her real name, after all."
"Try to convince Ellie … only wait till I’m out of the house."
Smiling, Dawsey pointed with her chin. "Speaking of the house, I don’t believe it’s changed one whit."
Hooper gazed toward the ramshackle cabin. Smoke poured from the skinny stovepipe on the sagging roof. Firewood stacked high on the rickety front porch nearly covered the dirt-smeared windows. Shimmering puddles in the waterlogged yard mirrored the surrounding trees.
"You’re right." He beamed at Dawsey. "Not a whit."
A high-pitched scream followed by a dancing, bobbing ruckus meant the family had identified the wagon.
As Hooper pulled to a stop a few yards from the beaming hoard on the porch, Dawsey leaned to whisper. "Don’t say anything right away. It’ll spoil their fun."
He lifted one
Familiar tightness stung Hooper’s throat. "I’ll always admire the Colonel for forgiving Pa. It meant so much to him."
Glancing at his brimming eyes, Dawsey fished for her hankie and wiped tears from her cheeks. "I was awfully proud of Father. Showing mercy to the McRaes didn’t come easy for a man like him."
They rode in silence until Dawsey nudged his shoulder. "If you think about it, God used Tiller to bring us all together. If I hadn’t taken him under my wing, and if you hadn’t come to Fayetteville on a mission to return him to Scuffletown, we never would’ve known such joy."
Hooper chuckled. "You’re right. One skinny, carrot-topped boy set the whole thing in motion. Only Tiller ran away before he saw how well things turned out."
She inhaled sharply. "And we never got to thank him."
Hooper draped his arm around her and tugged her close. "Don’t despair, Dawsey. Our visit home could change all that." He squeezed her shoulders. "And speaking of home, look … we’re here."
Spirits soaring, Hooper turned the wagon down the lane to his old homestead. Peering to see in the early morning light, he could just make out the cabin in the distance. As they drew closer, a dim light shone from the open doorway, and milling shapes were gathering on the porch.
"They’ve heard us coming." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Won’t they be surprised to see it’s us?"
A fact Hooper would soon make clear if he had to call out their names. Despite the few years of relative peace throughout the swamp, there would be half a dozen guns trained on the rig.
Dawsey shifted her weight impatiently. "I still say you should’ve wired ahead."
He shook his head. "The old man knows I’d never leave our farm this time of year. He’d have worried fit to bust until we arrived." He blew a long breath through his nostrils. "I wish we were here on a pleasure trip instead of this distasteful business."
"We’ll get the unpleasantness out of the way first," Dawsey said, patting his hand. "Then we can enjoy ourselves with the family." She peeked up at him. "What do you think Silas will say when he hears the shocking news we’re bringing?"
Hooper’s stomach lurched. "He’ll start all over again blaming himself that Tiller ran off." He tightened his jaw. "I don’t relish causing him hurt, but I have to tell him, Dawsey. I have no choice."
She squeezed his fingers. "Of course you don’t." Her eyes sparkling, Dawsey pointed at a slim figure standing on the porch. "Oh, Hooper! I think that’s Dilsey." She leaned to squint. "Yes, Dilsey’s here, and so are Wyatt and the boys."
He shot her a pained glance. "Do you plan to call her that the whole time we’re here? If so, tell me now while there’s still time to turn around. I’m not in the mood for Ellie’s temper."
Her darting eyes trained on the cabin, Dawsey dragged her attention back to him. "Don’t be silly. I’m the only person Dilsey tolerates on that score, but she allows me the one small indulgence." She gave him a look from under her lashes. "It’s her real name, after all."
"Try to convince Ellie … only wait till I’m out of the house."
Smiling, Dawsey pointed with her chin. "Speaking of the house, I don’t believe it’s changed one whit."
Hooper gazed toward the ramshackle cabin. Smoke poured from the skinny stovepipe on the sagging roof. Firewood stacked high on the rickety front porch nearly covered the dirt-smeared windows. Shimmering puddles in the waterlogged yard mirrored the surrounding trees.
"You’re right." He beamed at Dawsey. "Not a whit."
A high-pitched scream followed by a dancing, bobbing ruckus meant the family had identified the wagon.
As Hooper pulled to a stop a few yards from the beaming hoard on the porch, Dawsey leaned to whisper. "Don’t say anything right away. It’ll spoil their fun."
He lifted one
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