Chapter Three

      Abby jounced on the wagon seat and took in the view as they drove up to the farmhouse. The house walls were of stout weather-beaten, whitewashed planks settled on a foundation of stones and boulders. Mr. Hopkins hadn’t stopped at the front entrance for obvious reasons since the weeds grew knee-high right up to the house. Instead, he pulled around into the barnyard where the dirt was hard and flat, giving testimony to constant traffic. The barn was made of the same planks as the house minus the paint.

      Something akin to excitement ran through Abby when she saw a small back porch running the length of the house with a bench swing in one corner. She could imagine swinging out there on cool evenings after her housework was done, just as her mother used to when Abby was small. On closer inspection, Abby’s excitement dimmed. She doubted anyone had swung on the swing for a few seasons given the amount of dust and spiderwebs that clung to it. What must the house

      look like?

      One more jerk and the wagon came to a halt. “We’re here, miss. I can’t promise that it’s very welcoming but...”

      Abby looked at Mr. Hopkins and found his expression endearing. He’d mentioned on the trip that he had built the house with his brother and that they had taken the better part of a year to get the main parts done. He said something about having to care for Caroline and the boys, and how that had slowed him down. Now he looked embarrassed as if it wouldn’t measure up to what she expected. Mr. Hopkins’s humble clapboard home represented an opportunity to prove she was an able housekeeper and educator. While it might never truly become her home, she could make it a comfortable one for his family.

      “Is everything all right?” His voice called her back to the present. Glancing down from her perch still atop the wagon bench, she found him looking up at her expectantly. His hands were extended to help her climb down from the wagon and she mentally chastised herself for not paying more attention.

      “Oh. Yes, Mr. Hopkins. I was just admiring your home.” Just a hint of a smile touched the corners of his lips, but the pride that shone in his eyes reminded her of Tommy when she praised him.

      Mr. Hopkins’s hands were firm and strong as he lifted her at the waist and set her on her feet. “Thank you, miss.” He stood a little straighter and surveyed it himself. “She looks a little rough now.” He glanced at the house and shook his head. “I guess it must not look like much, but it’s dry and warm when it’s cold and wet outside. We make do.”

      “I’m sure it’s just fine,” Abby reassured him, seeing a glimpse of an insecure little boy behind the tough exterior of her employer.

      “If you want to just go on inside,” he said, turning toward the back of the wagon, “I’ll get your trunk and other boxes in short order.”

      “Come on. I wanna show you my room.” Tommy took her hand and started to pull her up the stairs.

      “Let’s go take a look,” she agreed, and let herself be led into the kitchen. She blinked as she stood at the threshold and waited for her eyes to adjust to the light. Something smelled as if it had died and was rotting in the middle of the room. It was enough to make her hold her breath. When she finally released the pent-up air, she tried to keep from thinking about what could be making such a stench. As her eyes adjusted, she could take in more of her surroundings. She held back a groan. What could she expect from four men who had been on their own for a number of years?

      The floor was the same rough planks as the walls but caked with dirt from the barnyard. The large table stood in the very middle of the large kitchen, its entire surface dirty with lumps of something stuck to its once-smooth surface. Three different-size pots took up part of the wooden counter; each stank of rot and had something decaying inside it. A filthy stove sat in the corner, its pipe connected to a hole just above the grimy window.

      It was nice to see that at least there were two glass windows in the kitchen even if they didn’t have screens. She would have enough natural light on most days (once she washed the windows) so that she wouldn’t even need a lantern or candles. The hand pump connected to the sink looked modern and meant she wouldn’t have to lug water from somewhere outside every morning to start the day. But in spite of those conveniences, she clearly had her work cut out for her.

      “C’mon.” Tommy had run ahead but was now back, tugging on her hand again.

      “Ahem.” A deep voice from behind startled her, chasing her away from the door.

      Mr. Hopkins stood with her hope chest on his shoulder as if it were a bag of feathers. “I’ll take this into the room on the first floor and then you can decide where you want to stay. I...” His nose curled as he stepped farther into the room. “Jake!” he exclaimed, frowning as he took in the pots on the counter. “I asked that boy...” he muttered under his breath.

      “I’ll get the kitchen straightened out in no time, sir.”

      “It’s not right for you to have to start working today. I’m sure you just want to rest after your long trip.” His face looked bright red and his eyes didn’t meet hers. Abby found his embarrassment charming.

      “I’ll be fine. I’ll just need to freshen up a bit and then I could pull something together for supper.”

      “Are you going to cook like they do at the hotel?” Tommy piped up, still tugging her hand. Willy hovered at the doorway, trying to act nonchalant.

      “Well, I don’t know if it’ll be just like the restaurant, but it will be enough to fill you up. My nieces and nephews like my chicken and dumplings. We could also make fried venison steaks when you go get a big one with your pa. But today I think I’m just going to have to see what’s in the pantry and make something simple. Tomorrow we can make a menu. You can show me how many letters and words you already know,” she offered.

      “What’s