Read Online Morning Glory by Lavyrle Spencer - Free Book Online Page B

over her shoulder.
    “You milk that goat out there?” He thumbed toward the yard.
    “No. I milk the cow.”
    “You have a cow?”
    “Herbert. She’s probably down by the barn by now.”
    “Herbert?” A corner of his mouth quirked.
    She shrugged while humor lit her face. “Don’t ask me how the name got on her. She’s always been Herbert and that’s what she answers to.”
    “I could milk”—his grin spread—“Herbert for you if you tell me where to find another pail.”
    She completed the slice and wiped her hands on her apron, fixing a teasing grin on her mouth. “Well, my, my...” she drawled. “Is that a smile I see threatenin’ the man’s face?”
    He allowed it to remain as they openly regarded one another, finding that the morning had brought changes they each liked. Seconds passed before they were smitten by self-consciousness. He glanced away. She turned to fetch him a galvanized pail.
    “There’s a milk stool standin’ against the south side o’ the barn.”
    “I’ll find it.”
    The screen door slammed and she crossed to it, calling, “Oh, Mr. Parker?”
    He pivoted in the path. “Ma’am?”
    She studied him through the screen.
    He had a pair of the nicest lips she’d ever seen, and they were downright pretty when they smiled.
    “After breakfast I’m gonna cut that hair for you.”
    The grin mellowed and reached his eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” he said softly with a touch on his hat brim.
    As he turned downyard with the pail swinging at his side, he wondered when he’d been happier, when life had looked more promising. She was going to keep him!
    Herbert turned out to be a friendly cuss with big brown eyes and a brown and white hide. She and the goat seemed to be pals, exchanging a hello of noses. The mule was out behind the barn, too, with its eyes half closed, facing the wall. Will chose to milk the cow outside instead of in the smelly barn. He tied her to a fencepost, stripped off his shirt and hunkered on the stool while the heat of the sun pelted his back. It seemed he couldn’t soak up enough of it to make up for the five years’ dearth. Beside him the goat watched, chewing its cud. The cow chewed too—loud, grinding beats. Comfortable. In time Will’s milking matched the rhythm of Herbert’s jaws. It was soothing—the warm bovine flesh against his forehead, the warmer sun, the homely sound, and the heat building up the length of his arms. In time his muscles burned—satisfying, honest heat generated by his own body toiling as a body ought. He increased his speed to test his mettle.
    While he worked, the hens came out of their night roosts, one by one, clucking throatily, walking as if on sharp stones, exploring the grass for snails. He eyed the yard, imagining it clean. He eyed the chickens, imagining them penned. He eyed the woodpile, imagining it chopped, ranked and filed. There was one hell of a lot to do, but the challenge fired him with eagerness.
    A mother cat showed up with three taffy-colored kittens, a trio of clowning puffballs with tails straight as pokers. The mother curled against Will’s ankle and he paused to scratch her.
    “What’s your name, missus?” She stood on her hind legs, braced her forefeet on his thigh, begging. Her fur was soft and warm as she jutted against his fingers. “You feedin’ those three, huh? Need a little help?” He found a sardine can inside the doorway of the barn and filled it, then watched the fourof them eat, one of the babies with a foot in the can. He chuckled... and the sound of his own laughter was so foreign to his ears it made his heart hammer. He tilted his head back and squinted at the sky, letting freedom and happiness overcome him. He chuckled again, feeling the wondrous thrust of the sound against his throat. How long since he’d heard it? How long?
    When he delivered the milk to the house he smelled bacon frying from twenty feet down the yard. His stomach growled and he paused with his hand raised to knock on