Rocky Mountain Dreams & Family on the Range Danica Favorite (warren buffett book recommendations .txt) 📖

She sniggered. “You’ll be going back to work and needing new clothes if you keep this eating up.”

“A well-fed man is a happy man.”

“I wish that was true.”

“Me, too.” He sighed and looked toward the horizon. The mountains rose sharply against the sky, steep and dangerous. Much like the feelings spreading through her.

Yet she didn’t know how to stop this warmth...no, this fire. She’d always felt tender toward Lou. How could she not? He’d taken her in at the darkest moment of her life. Kept her safe.

But lately...things were changing, and she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

Stuck in God talk.

Last thing he wanted, but here he was, settling down on the blanket, with Mary only spaces away from him, her scent mingling with the aromas of fried chicken and flowers. Mr. Horn had instructed everyone to take seats so they could have a short preaching before the picnic.

It had been years since he’d attended any kind of Christian event. What had coerced him now was beyond his ken, but he’d just have to starch his backbone and ignore the rumbling of his stomach.

Truth be told, a picnic had sounded bunches better than sitting home by himself. James planned to stay home reading, but Lou preferred action of some sort. He wasn’t a reader, never had been.

Josie came scrambling over, hair flying in her face. She stopped in front of him and brushed knotty strands from her eyes. “We gotta sit still now, don’t we?”

Lou made a face and she giggled. Plopping down beside him, she leaned her head onto his arm. A lump formed in his throat but he didn’t move away.

Horn moved into sight. People had arranged their blankets in rows, just like a church. The man went to the front.

“Morning, everyone.”

The group replied with murmurs, mornings, et cetera. An interesting mix of folks here. Mary wasn’t the only Paiute. There was also a Chinese man on a far blanket. Miss Alma with her fancy hat and pleated dress sat next to a family who wore homespun clothes and no shoes.

Feeling more comfortable in this mix of people, he leaned back on his elbows and stretched his legs out. He felt Mary’s glance but got caught in Horn’s words and didn’t meet it.

“Troubles come our way. Hardships.” Horn cleared his throat. “But God brings us through. He delivers us from the snare of the enemy and fills our souls with peace. I thought today it would be nice to read the nineteenth chapter of Psalms and sing a few songs before we dig into these scrumptious vittles the ladies worked up.”

“Pa fried up his special chicken recipe,” a young girl called out.

Horn chuckled. “He sure did. Who’d like to read?”

Miss Alma stood. Lou heard the bustle of her voluminous skirts from where he sat.

“I shall,” she said. She adjusted the petite glasses on her face and held up a heavy-looking book. Her voice surrounded them and suddenly everything faded but the clarity of her words.

“‘Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him. I will set him on high, because he hath known my name. He shall call upon me, and I will answer him. I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him, and honor him. With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation.’”

Lou squirmed on the blanket, glad when she was finished. A heavy sense of regret crept through him. For what, he wasn’t sure. Miss Alma sat and then, suddenly, Mary stood up beside him. She opened her mouth and sang “Amazing Grace.” The others followed until the entire area filled with the sound of voices.

Mary’s voice was a husky soprano. He’d heard her humming throughout the years as she worked but never had she sang so lovely, so invitingly, of God and His grace.

The song he used to sing. Years ago. As a child and young man. The God he’d trusted. Mary thought Him worthy of trust. Still... Josie wiggled beside him. He glanced at her blond curls and thought of Sarah and Abby. Their passing had been so long ago. Why did the memories still hurt so much?

He blinked as the singing faded and an odd silence descended on the group. Then Mary began “How Great Thou Art.” A chill rippled through his body at her words.

Her face was relaxed, her lips rounding and changing as she sang. Her hands lifted and swelled with her words. She was happy here. At peace.

Because of God.

Deep down, in a place he didn’t care to explore, he felt the truth of it. That he’d turned his back on Jesus and everything he’d been raised with and now he felt pain and bitterness. But Mary had embraced what he’d spurned and it had changed her.

He blinked as Josie slid her hand into his. He looked down at her broad smile and vowed to protect this little girl. Whatever it took. He returned Josie’s squeeze and sang with the group.

It had been a long time. His throat worked each consonant and spit them out rusty, but Josie didn’t seem to care. When the song ended and they’d all spread out on blankets, he found himself plopping down next to Mary.

“Mmm, you smell good. Like cinnamon and roses. Like snickerdoodles.”

She blushed beside him. The grin that had taken hold during the song widened. He leaned back, folding his hands behind his head and crossing his ankles. “What’s on the menu?”

“Fried chicken, apple dumplings—”

“Snickerdoodles?”

“You know so.” She sent him an exasperated look, but he saw laughter in her eyes.

“Where’s Josie?”

“I’m right here!” She hopped onto the blanket, spinning, and then dropping down.

“Your dress, Josie.”

But the girl didn’t hear Mary. She was staring at a group of kids in the distance. Someone’s father, or maybe an older brother, was giving each a turn at being swung in a circle.

“Go over there,” he told her.

“She’s wearing a dress,” said Mary.

Josie sighed heavily, a bit on