Dandelions on the Wind by Mona Hodgson

pushed open the slat door and stepped out of the coop, egg basket in hand.
    She brushed the cape covering her arm. “It is a bit cool this morning, but it feels like we may have a temperate day for the quilting circle.”
    “Yes.” He raised the basket. “The hens have given us fifteen eggs this morning.”
    “Good.” She reached for the basket and he held on to it, momentarily suspending it between them.
    She would sorely miss seeing this man every day. She set the egg basket on the new fencepost and met his gaze.
    He rested his hand on her arm. Despite the barrier her cape and dress sleeve created, his touch sent a shiver up her spine.
    “At the store … when I said you were back working on the farm, that Mrs. Brantenberg didn’t need my help, you said my leaving wasn’t about that.”
    He nodded, his brow creased.
    “What did you mean?”
    “I want to court you.”
    She glanced at his hand. “You do?”
    “I do.” He removed his hand from her arm and slid his hand into his trouser pocket, leaving her arm chilled.
    “How do afternoon walks, listening to steamboats as they sidle up to docks along the Missouri, sound?”
    Perfect, as long as he was at her side. “But what about Denmark? I don’t plan to stay.”
    “I’m willing to take it one day at a time. Are you?”
    She nodded.
    Bootsie’s low moan drew her attention to the barn.
    “It’s not easy to admit,” he said, “but it’s probably best that you not live here on the farm.”
    “Oh?”
    “You’re a very distracting single woman. I’d choose spending time with you over work any hour of the day.” His wide grin weakened her knees.
    “I had best return to my work before we both miss breakfast.”
    “I’ll see you at the table then.”
    She sighed and took a first step toward the barn. She’d miss their daily talks, but the prospect of courtship quickened her steps.
***
    The sun had begun to wane before Maren and Rutherford returned from a walk in the apple orchard. Harvest was fast approaching. A crowd would gather at the farm to help with the picking, and she wanted to be a part of it. She didn’t want to miss anything here, least of all any walks with Rutherford, her talks in the kitchen with Mrs. Brantenberg, and Gabi’s joy during their Sunday music time.
    Rutherford slowed his pace. “Do you want me to stay with you when you tell her?” His voice echoed the emotion welling inside her.
    “Yes. I want Gabi to focus on what she’s gained—her PaPa.”
    As Rutherford guided her up the porch steps, his firm hand cupping her elbow, she prayed for the right words. She had shared the news of a job at the grocery with Mrs. Brantenberg. Rutherford had agreed to move her into the basement at Heinrich’s store on Saturday. Now it was time she told Gabi of her move.
    Rutherford held the front door open for her, a gesture she’d come to appreciate … and expect. The door clicked shut and Rutherford joined her, his hand resting across her upper back.
    Mrs. Brantenberg and Gabi’s voices sounded from the sitting room.
    “Gleich und gleich gesellt sich gern,” Mrs. Brantenberg said in her German tongue.
    Gabi translated the proverb into English. “Birds of a feather flock together.”
    Maren looked at Rutherford. “I will miss you all so.”
    “PaPa! Miss Maren!” Gabi skidded to a stop in front of them, waving her cloth doll. “Did you hear us?” The child’s whole body wiggled like a ribbon on a breeze. “I will say the German and English sayings at the apple picking party and Oma will say a poem.”
    Rutherford lifted Gabi into his arms. “That will be a special time.”
    Maren followed them into the sitting room. A fire glowed at the hearth and oil lamps flickered from the wall and a side table.
    Mrs. Brantenberg looked at Maren and rose from her armchair. “I will make coffee.”
    Maren seated herself on the rocker. “Come sit with me, Gabi. I have something to tell you.”
    “I know.” A smile filling her face,