Read My Hope Is Found: The Cadence of Grace, Book 3 for Free Online

on the floor. Gideon looked over to see her cram her burgundy sleeve up past her elbow before she snatched a skillet from the stove and shook a pair of fried eggs onto a plate. She grabbed the remainder of the morning’s bread with her other hand. “I hope you slept well.” She knelt and, using the hem of her skirt,moved a charred enamel coffeepot away from the flames. Her wrinkled face was the same level as his. “Hungry?”
    Gideon ran his hand along his collarbone and felt glistens of sweat. “Yes ma’am. Thank you.” Still dressed, he shook off his blanket and moved away from the fire. Remembering the wood he’d wanted to bring in, he ducked outdoors. The icy air hit him, and he grabbed as much wood as he could carry. Back in the house, he carefully stacked the load on her hearth. His arms finally empty, he brushed dust from his shirt and hands.
    “Food’s on,” she said. “Have a seat.”
    “This smells”—he shook his head and tugged a chair away from the uneven table—“incredible.”
    “Nothing like travelin’ the worn road to make a man want eggs and stale bread.” She sat and filled his coffee. Gideon noticed there was no cream or sugar on the table. He took a sip, not caring either way. He’d take his coffee black any day as long as it was hot, and even that was optional at times.
    Adelaide bowed her head. “Thank You, Lord.” She hesitated and Gideon lifted his eyes. With a push of her lips, she shook her head. “Amen.”
    “Amen.”
    “Butter’s fresh.” She pushed an ivory crock toward him.
    After smearing some on his slice, Gideon chewed the crust in silence. He ate his eggs in a few quick bites.
    “More?” Adelaide asked, turning in her chair toward the stove.
    Gideon waved her down. “I’m fine, thank you.” He did not want to take any more of her provisions than necessary. “There’s plenty of bread here. I hate to waste it.”
    “Spoken like a man who’d eat just about anything right now.”
    He nodded his agreement. His shoulder ached. From the cold or the journey, he didn’t know. Probably both. He rubbed it gently.
    Adelaide glanced toward the fire, her crown of braids catching the light. Gideon studied her hunched form and wondered how she survived all alone. He took in the small space, and though it was humble, it seemed to hold all a body could need.
    “I’m afraid you won’t get far in this weather.”
    “I’ve walked in a storm before.”
    Her eyelids, heavy with petal-thin skin, blinked twice. “I can tell.”
    Gideon shifted his boots.
    “You comin’ or goin’?”
    “Little bit of both. Headin’ back to my family. Wife and son.” He’d spoken too soon. “Well, my son … and his mother.” He cleared his throat.
    Something flickered through her sharp eyes. “What took you away?”
    It was a question he couldn’t begin to answer. Not now, like this. Gideon rolled his sore shoulder.
    She seemed to notice. Knife in hand, Adelaide smeared butter on a slice of bread, then set it gently in the center of her plate. Then she went to her bed and pulled a wooden box from underneath.
    He wanted to change the subject. The less he talked about himself, the better. “What about you? Any family?”
    She waved away the question as if it didn’t exist. Snapping the case open, she returned with a small glass jar. From the jar she pulled a pinch of something and dropped it into a little pot, which she placed near the fire.
    Returning, she tapped him on the shoulder. “Your shirt.” She made the motion of him pulling it off to the side.
    Uncertain, he slid the top buttons free.
    She frowned.
    Fine
. He unbuttoned two more and pulled his arm from both his shirt and long underwear. With leathery fingers, she touched the muscle that always ached in the cold.
    “What did you do?”
    “I dislocated it. This past fall. Been botherin’ me off and on ever since.”
    “Hmm.” She pulled the small copper pot away from the fire and set it on the table. Scooping a