Read Online Spring for Susannah by Catherine Richmond - Free Book Online Page A

bacon onto plates and put them on the table along with salt, pepper, forks, knives. The smell of cornbread filled the room. She jerked open the oven door. One corner had burned to charcoal.
    Susannah’s shoulders drooped. He might as well know: he’d married a half-wit.
    Jesse said grace, then served himself the scorched corner without commenting. “Could use your help with the wheat today.”
    â€œIf I bound the sheaves, you could keep cutting.”
    â€œExactly. We’ll get caught up on this harvest.”
    â€œYou lost a whole day fetching me.”
    â€œCan’t count it a lost day, when I gain a wife.”
    â€œI’ll pack dinner.”
    â€œYou could borrow a pair of my pants.”
    Susannah had never worn hand-me-downs or borrowed clothes. Wearing men’s pants, this man’s pants, seemed indecent. “No, thank you.”
    He shrugged. “Some women take to wearing them out here. Seems like it’d be easier, but it’s up to you.”
    â€œI’d best stay in my skirt.”
    â€œThen at least take off your corset.”
    Susannah felt herself flush. How could he talk about undergarments at the table? “I’ll meet you at the field.”

    Jesse sang with the rhythm of the swinging cradle, but Susannah had no extra energy for harmonizing. Every muscle in her city-girl body howled with pain. The constant wind blessed and cursed: drying her perspiration, keeping the flies from lighting, blowing dust in her eyes.
    A cloud, she wished. Just a little shade. Memory summoned trees: tall elms lining the streets, the backyard apple fragrant with good fruit, the cool pines fringing Michigan’s lakes. The only trees she’d seen in Dakota were back in Fargo, along the Red River. Perhaps the harsh wind or lack of rain kept the rest of the territory a barren grassland.
    The sun simmered low on the horizon when Jesse called a halt. “Three acres! Beats my usual two a day.” He tugged the work gloves off her limp hands, flinching at her blisters. “I won’t always work you like this. If those grasshoppers hadn’t wiped me out, I’d have hired help.” Long fingers kneaded her shoulders. “A bath’ll feel good tonight.”
    â€œI didn’t think people on the frontier bathed this often.”
    â€œDon’t know about the rest of the neighborhood, but I try to get a bath every Saturday night, for church tomorrow.”
    â€œChurch? I thought you said—”
    â€œThere’s no preacher or building. Just Ivar and me. We sing, pray, share a few verses. Nothing fancy.”
    â€œSounds like a first-century church.”
    â€œThat’s the idea. Congregation’s growing. Marta last year, baby Sara this spring, and now you.”
    Marta . All week loneliness had dragged at Susannah, making her wish for Ellen. She missed their easy confidences, her friend’s blunt good sense and droll worldview. Exchanging correspondence would take months. Besides that, her letter would be passed around; much of what she’d like to write would have to go unsaid. Surely Marta had been lonely too, and would welcome her friendship.
    Just the thought made Susannah’s heart a little lighter.

Chapter 7
    All-wise God, please . . . why won’t she talk to me?
    A re you in love with Matt?”
    Susannah choked on her coffee. “Pardon me?”
    Jesse leaned across the table. “You asked if I’d thought of going into the ministry. Maybe you’re in love with Matt, hoped I’d be just like him. It’s not unheard of for a woman to fall in love with her pastor.”
    Her appetite vanished under his scrutiny. “He’s married.”
    â€œWhat if he hadn’t been?”
    â€œEllen is a much better pastor’s wife than I would ever be.”
    â€œWhy do you say that?”
    Susannah picked at a fried potato slice. “She’s a ‘blessed peacemaker.’ At the first