One
C’ H, A
H
oo-ooo-ie,
she’s het up!”
Margaret Rose shook a spatula at the men in her kitchen.
“If you plan to eat supper, you’ll not be egging him on.” All three bearded jaws dropped.“I mean it.” Never once had she made that threat. In her five years of cooking and caring for a baker’s dozen ragtag of old men,
Maggie managed to tolerate plenty. Love made it easy to dote on
them and overlook blunders. Most often, her “uncles” showered her with affection, appreciation, and endless amusement. Today, however, was different. Their discussion frayed the edges of her
patience so badly, a tattered sock would have looked brand-new by comparison. She didn’t often rue being the only woman in Carver’s
10
C M H
Holler, but this counted as such a time. “After being hounded for six days, I deserve some rest.”
“You’d get more rest as a married woman,” Uncle Bocephus
encouraged. “As a wife, you’d feed and doctor only one man. Not thirteen.”
“Nonsense!” She nibbled on a broken cookie. “I’d have fourteen
men.”
“All the better reason.” Paw-Paw rose from the table. Breath hissed
though his teeth and his features tightened. “Thirteen’s unlucky.”
Alarm shot through her. “Paw-Paw, you’re hurting! What’s
a-wrong?”“Wood leg’s giving my daddy fits,” Jethro tattled. “Wore a hole in the stump sock, and now he’s going to rub a raw spot on what’s left. He doesn’t want to tell you so.”
“Mercy’s sake, Paw-Paw. Take off your leg and pass over the
sock. I’ll have it darned in a trice.”Paw-Paw plopped down and yanked up his pant leg. “Take it from an old man, Maggie. Life is full of surprises.” He gestured in a
wide arc to the view out her window. Meager beams of sunlight snuck
through the heavy gray clouds, the sky promising a rare snowstorm. Maggie had seen all of three snowstorms in her whole life, and the wicked chill sweeping through the holler promised a mean fourth. “Even the critters know a change is on the wind, lass. They’re plan-ning ahead for what’s to come. You should, too.”
She laughed. “I am! I’m planning on having thirteen hungry
men at my supper table. Sure and for certain,
they
won’t change one bit. They’ll all come early because of the weather. The Flinn twins will give us a storm update and Mr. Collier’s suspenders are going to be twisted,” she predicted.Uncle Bo let out a sigh powerful enough to flip over a sack of potatoes. “Don’t you see, girl? Deep as this holler—that’s my love
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