Glorious Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series) by Debra Holland Page A

didn’t seem bothered by the chill, but she reached behind the seat and pulled out a blanket. “Tuck it around our legs, will you, dear?”
    He obeyed. Within minutes, the warmth of the blanket helped.
    She flicked the reins, and the horse started up.
    Micah stayed silent while they drove through the rest of the town, although his grandmother gave him a running commentary on the buildings and the inhabitants, which he only half paid attention to.
    The town wasn’t nearly as interesting as Cambridge, but was still as different from his African village as could be. A fierce tug of homesickness cramped his stomach, and only an effort of will kept him from bending over in pain. Tears stung his eyes, and Micah wanted to bawl like a baby. He concentrated hard to make them go away before his grandmother saw.
    She transferred the reins to one hand and patted his knee with the other. “Now, my dear, let me tell you about the Swensens, whom we are going to visit.” She took the reins back in both hands. “There are six daughters. The oldest is probably a year or two older than you.”
    Six girls! “No boys?”
    “Dr. Cameron tells me the new baby is a boy. The family is overjoyed. And the only reason Dr. Cameron knows the information is Mrs. Swenson’s labor was so long that Mr. Swenson became worried and sent Inga for the doctor.”
    Micah scrunched his face.
    She flicked a glance at him. “Normally, I wouldn’t even mention such a topic to a child, especially a boy. But you are the son and grandson of a minister. You will be called upon to see and do things other boys won’t.”
    “I helped Senyiwa deliver her sister.”
    “You what?” she exclaimed.
    “There was a festival in the next village and almost everyone left. I was in trouble, so I had to stay home with Kisozi.”
    “Ah, yes. I remember your father wrote that Kisozi was your nanny.”
    “Senyiwa came running for Kisozi, and we both went to help. I got to hold the baby when he was born,” Micah said. “They named him after me.” For a moment, he took pride in the memory. But then he remembered Meec, as they called the little one, holding out his arms to be picked up, and he became sad all over again. “We shouldn’t have left. The Baganda are our people, and they need us,” he said fiercely.
    “I’m sure they do. You and your parents must have made a big difference in the lives of the natives.”
    “Then why did we have to leave?”
    His grandmother sighed and pulled back on the reins.
    The horse ambled to a stop.
    Grandmother turned to face him. “Well, my dear.” She gave a playful tug at the brim of his cap. “I think it was time for you to come home to Sweetwater Springs.”
    No, it wasn’t!
    “The presence of you and your father will make a difference to those who live here as well as you did in Uganda, but most of all, to your grandfather and myself. We have missed your father with a deep ache in our hearts, even though we knew he did important work in Africa and prayed daily for his ministry.” She set the back of her hand against his cheek. “To not know our only grandchild has also hurt our hearts.” She sighed. “And we are growing older.”
    Micah glanced up at her.
    “I know you’re not happy, my dear boy. Can you at least understand how being here makes your grandfather and myself. . .not just happy. . .overjoyed? And, so deeply grateful that you both are alive and well.”
    Her words made a funny feeling churn in his belly—a good funny feeling.
    “Perhaps knowing that your presence is making a difference to your grandparents will make things a tiny bit easier for you.”
    Micah didn’t think anything would make leaving Uganda easier. But he politely refrained from saying so. “Can I drive the horse?” he asked, eager to change the subject.
    She smoothed back his hair. “On the return trip. Old Matilda will be tired, and I won’t have to worry that an accident could happen.
    With a feeling of anticipation, Micah