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box.
    “Play on the back steps,” Lois reminded them.
    Donnie popped his thumb out of his mouth. “I wanna go. Can I, Mama? Can I go too?”
    “Sweet lamb, you can’t go outside without an adult.”
    Donnie let out a shriek of protest.
    Joe waggled a finger at him. “That’s enough, Donald William.”
    “I want my yard,” Donnie wailed, tears welling in his crystal-blue eyes.
    With her free arm, Lois scooped her son close. “Shh, you’ll make Billy cry,” she said, though the baby continued to sleep peacefully. Lois’s eyes glistened. “We’ll get our yard back, Donnie. House too. In time.”
    Abigail heard the wobble in her sister’s voice. Joe patted Lois’s arm. She looked pale, wrung out, no doubt exhausted and concerned about their future. The fire had left them all shaken.
    She hoped nothing happened to tempt Joe to return to the poker tables.
    God, I don’t understand why things have only gotten worse for Joe after turning away from gambling and claiming You Lord of his life.
    “I’ve meant to ask, Ab.” Lois’s gaze met hers. “Why did Wade Cummings bid on your box lunch yesterday?”
    Ethel whirled toward Abigail. “You shared a meal with a Cummings?”
    “He won the bid, Ma. I had no choice.”
    “Isn’t that just like that family, using their money to force others to bend to their will.”
    Joe frowned. “Didn’t Leon bid?”
    “He went as high as eleven dollars before he stopped.” Abigail cleared the table and carried dirty dishes to the sink. “He was probably afraid of losing his job at the bank.”
    Face flushed, Ma scrubbed the oatmeal pot, sending suds flying. “I wouldn’t put it past a Cummings to fire someone for crossing them. Nothing that family does would surprise me.”
    “Wade jumped the bid to twenty-five dollars,” Lois said. “No one else in this town has that kind of money.”
    “Stay away from that man, Abigail. Like father, like son. Wade Cummings will bring you nothing but trouble. Most likely would enjoy it too.” Ma took the dishtowel from Abigail’s hands. “You’ll ruin your nice clothes.”
    “Not sure God approves of this feud,” Joe said, voice low, almost as if he was talking to himself. Since Joe found God and turned his life around, his perspective on everything had changed.
    Ethel’s wounded expression conveyed her displeasure. “I can’t believe you’d take a Cummings’s side, after what they did to Frank.”
    Joe dropped his gaze. “You know whose side I’m on, Ma.”
    Changing the subject, Abigail said, “Peter, don’t forget to practice your reading. You too, Gary and Sam.”
    “I’ll see that they do.” Lois turned to Abigail. “I’ll pray you find a job, sis.”
    Her conscience pinching like ill-fitting shoes, Abigail thanked her sister. “Ma, I may visit Rachel so don’t worry if I miss dinner.”
    No point in telling her family about working for the Cummingses and getting them riled up, when most likely she’d be fired before the day ended.
    A shiver slid through her. What had she let herself in for?
     
     
    Wade rapped on the bedroom door, steeling himself for the confrontation sure to come once his father knew he’d hired a Wilson for his companion.
    A cough, then “Who is it?”
    “Wade.” He waited but heard nothing, then opened the door and entered the bedroom. Spotless, organized with nothing frivolous, nothing personal, not a picture, trinket or toiletry in sight. The decor was stark, shades of brown and black, dismal.
    Like the man.
    The one exception to the barren room—the ancient hound sprawled at the foot of his father’s bed. Lazy, sad-eyed, long ears drooping, attached to his father with a steadfast loyalty Wade admired. With a welcoming wag of his tail, Blue raised his head for the expected scratch behind his ears.
    George Cummings, face etched with pain, sat propped up in bed, his white hair blending with the pillowcase, his bandaged hands resting palms up on the sheet.
    Wade’s gaze settled