Read Online To Know Her by Name by Lori Wick - Free Book Online Page B

would never have made it. He was walking around the cabin more, but most of his days were spent sitting or lying on the sofa. It was during this time that some light was shed on Mud’s cryptic answer about his hostess.
    There wasn’t a time when Pup came into the cabin that she didn’t trip on the threshold. She knocked pans from the stove and bowls from the table. She spilled water and food down the front of herself daily. She continued to dress his wound with tenderness and surprising skill, but when it came to the rest of the cabin, she was an accident waiting to happen. “Clumsy little pup,” must have been the phrase that started the nickname, and McKay could see why. But what most fascinated him was that Pup herself seemed completely unaware that anything was amiss.
    If he lived to be a hundred, he would never forget the morning she set a kitchen towel on fire. It didn’t burst into immediate flames, but did smoke and flame slightly before she noticed it. At first McKay was too stunned to react, and about the time he was ready to open his mouth and warn her, she had spotted it. He was speechless as she made a face that showed the inconvenience of it all and calmly poured some water from the pitcher to douse the fire. The room was a little smoky after that, but she only opened the front door. She didn’t turn to him with any type of comment or apology but went back to the meal preparations. She wiped at the mark that it made on the stove top but never referred to it again.
    It had been two weeks and four days since he’d been shot, and tonight was the first night McKay was going to join Pup at the dinner table. As he sat in his usual place on the sofa, however, the burned towel incident strongly in his mind, he wondered if this was safe.
    â€œAre you getting hungry?” Pup interrupted his thoughts as she entered the cabin carrying a basket. She tripped but never dropped a thing.
    â€œA little. I thought I would come to the table tonight.”
    â€œSuit yourself,” she said mildly.
    Do things really mean so little to her, Lord? Is she really so disinterested? Or is it because I’m a stranger who has moved into her home? On the heels of these questions McKay remembered the man he shot. She hadn’t had much more to say to Travis Buchanan than she did to him, but he must never forget that it was he who shot Govern Hackett. What exactly they had meant to each other McKay could only guess, but he reminded himself that she might never feel overly friendly toward him.
    When he saw Pup putting plates and flatware on the table, he rose. He was acutely aware of his bare feet and uncombed hair, but his hostess took no notice. Sitting opposite of where he’d seen her sit, he saw with pleasant surprise that she’d made muffins. McKay spoke when Pup joined him at the table.
    â€œI don’t wish to be presumptuous, but would you mind if I returned grace?”
    â€œNo.”
    Her tone didn’t indicate any emotion, so taking her at her word, McKay bowed his head.
    â€œHeavenly Father, I thank You for this day. I thank You for Callie’s hard work on the meal and for the care she has given me. I thank You for the food she prepared. I ask You to bless us this evening and protect us through the night. Amen.”
    â€œAmen,” Pup agreed softly, and then passed the bowl of rabbit stew to her guest.
    They dished up in silence, but soon McKay commented, “My mother makes rabbit stew. It’s my father’s favorite.”
    â€œIt’s tastier than squirrel.”
    â€œI think so, too.”
    â€œDo you want coffee or water?”
    â€œI think water.”
    Pup rose and brought him a glass.
    â€œThank you.”
    She didn’t reply to this, and all other attempts at conversation fell flat. She would look at him when he spoke and answer if he asked a direct question, but she offered little if anything of her own. McKay resigned himself to