Longing for Home by Sarah M. Eden Page A

once more to go.
    “One more thing, sir—that is, Mr. Archer.” She doubted she’d ever grow accustomed to leaving off the usual sir. “As for the rest of the salary you would have paid had I been charged with the girls’ care?”
    “Yes?” The suspicion had returned to his tone.
    “Seeing as Biddy would be taking on that work, assuming she accepts, I thought perhaps she might take the portion of the salary I’m no longer earning.”
    His brows pulled together. Clearly he hadn’t thought of that. “I’m not sure the O’Connors would accept payment for what they see as being neighborly.”
    “Perhaps not.” She hoped he’d offer and hoped they’d accept. The O’Connors were far from wealthy, and the money would be helpful.
    “Hmm.” He looked reluctantly impressed. “That is very good of you. I’ll offer and hope their Irish pride doesn’t prevent them from taking me up on it.”
    “I thank you, Joseph Archer.”
    He left. Katie let out the breath she’d been holding. She had a job and free afternoons to fill with whatever other work she might find around town. ’Twas something of a promising beginning.

Chapter Ten
     
    Tavish stood among his crops, eyes cast out over the lake at the back of his property and the distant mountains rising behind it. He had the best view in all of Hope Springs. The sky above was vast and clear. Yet, his thoughts weren’t of the blue expanse above him but of the haunting beauty of a pair of deep brown eyes and the unexpected appeal of a stubborn and determined woman. He’d known Katie Macauley all of three days and had spent not more than a few hours in her company, yet he found himself thinking about her in the oddest moments.
    “I refuse to muck out your plugged-up ditches, Tavish. So you’d best do something more than stand about with that idiotic expression on your face.” Ian glared at him from the other side of one of those plugged-up ditches, shovel in hand.
    He took up his own shovel and returned to the work of clearing debris washed into his irrigation canals by the heavy rains of two nights ago. “My thoughts were wandering, is all.”
    “Aye. I’d say they were wandering about as far as the Archer place,” Ian threw back.
    Tavish didn’t acknowledge that remark in the least. He set to digging, leaving Ian to think what he would. His brother never had needed encouragement to offer his opinion.
    “She’s a fine-looking lass, I’ll grant her that,” Ian said. “But she’ll not be easily won over.”
    Tavish tossed a shovelful of mud-plastered leaves and branches out of the ditch. “When did I say I wanted to win her over?”
    “The last time you stood around staring at nothing was the week Bridget Claire moved to town, and we all know where that led.”
    Bridget Claire. Tavish didn’t imagine he’d ever reach the point where hearing her name didn’t strike some regret in his heart. If not for the fever that had claimed half the town and her with them, he’d have married her. Darling, lovely Bridget.
    “Katie Macauley is—”
    “A challenge?” Ian finished for him.
    Tavish shook his head. “I was going to say a pill.”
    Ian sent another shovelful of muck out of the ditch. “You’ve a taste for sharp-witted and determined women, Tavish. Bridget, for all her sweetness of temper, could give you such a tongue thrashing at times. And we could all see you loved it. Teased her mercilessly you did, something you didn’t stop doing the entire time you spent with Miss Katie. And, I’m thinking, you’ve a taste for brunettes.”
    Tavish pretended not to listen. His own musings about an attractive, fiery woman were one thing, but hearing his brother analyze the situation to death was another thing entirely. And bringing Bridget Claire into the discussion was not something he’d go along with.
    “You know something, Ian? You sound just like a nosey old hen. Why don’t you go put on one of your wife’s skirts and bonnets and play the part to