Read At Love's Bidding for Free Online

garden club official.”
    â€œHow many do you have signed up already?”
    Widow Sanders scratched beneath her bonnet strap. “Just me. You’d make two, but that would be perfect. We could take turns winning the Garden of the Month award.”
    â€œWhy not make it Garden of the Year and we won’t have to award it as often?”
    â€œI thought of that, but to win for a whole year sounds downright pretentious. I’d rather win it twelve times a year . . . six, I mean, because you’d win it half the time.”
    Wyatt sighed. “I’ve got to get to the barn. Those animals will be chewing on each other if I don’t hurry.”
    â€œThink it over. No sense in making a final decision right now.”
    Wyatt hawed, the mules pulled in their traces, and they were off. Widow Sanders lived at the edge of town, the last house before the feed mill and sale barn. Sensing they were almost to their destination, his horse whinnied behind him. He turned to check on the tethered animal when his eye caught a most loathsome sight. With a groan, Wyatt swung himself around, afraid to look behind him again. He would see the lady, most definitely, because he’d stolen her luggage.
    The two traveling bags and the trunk could only belong to her and the old man. That’s what he got for bursting in with both barrels blazing. When would he learn to slow down and think things through? Even if his brother had deserved his comeuppance, there might have been a more handy time to deliver it.
    He pulled the wagon up to the feed mill where his order was already waiting on him. Late. He hated being late. He tossed the feed sacks into the wagon bed as easily as if they were parlor pillows and then headed out for the sale barn.
    The smell of large animals in tight quarters reached him before he rode into the clearing. One farmer’s barn smelled strong enough. Multiply that odor by fifty, and it was enough to make your eyes water. Especially when they weren’t selling anything. Why had Ol’ Pritchard allowed the livestock to accumulate? Wyatt didn’t like it. Didn’t make sense to take stockin and hold them. The animals had to be fed, and that dug into profit. Besides, Pritchard knew that Wyatt had been saving up to buy the barn from him, so why was he shutting down operations? Something stunk about the deal, and not just the crowded livestock.
    The pens wrapping around the west side of the red building teemed with bottled-up energy. Surrounded by unfamiliar smells and challenged by the males from rival herds, no one was happy. And the feed? Wyatt spent half of each day making sure every animal had feed and water available. Another reason Isaac deserved the whooping. It was one thing for him to idle around town, but when he stole Wyatt’s wagon to go sparking, he jeopardized Wyatt’s job.
    Pulling the wagon up against the nearest fence, Wyatt set the brake and hopped in the back. He flipped open his jackknife and stabbed the bag, ripping a gash in the top. Heaving the bag to his shoulder, he leaned across the high fence and shook out the kernels on the teeming swine below. The hogs fought over the spilling corn as it bounced off their backs and was trampled beneath them. Once that pen was fed, he stepped over the bench seat, pulled the wagon up ten feet, and repeated the chore for the next pen.
    â€œWyatt!” Pritchard himself stepped out of the wide front doors of the sale barn. “Still feeding? You’re running late today.”
    â€œYeah. Well, my wagon took off without me. Had to hunt it down.”
    Pritchard tucked a dirty strand of his long hair behind his ear. “Isaac again?”
    Wyatt nodded. He tossed the empty feed sack into the back of the wagon. “It’s not good to have these animals crowded like this. Are we having a sale tomorrow or not?” Pritchard mightbe his boss, but Wyatt felt no obligation to hide his frustration. “You