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and rewards of her life with someone equally invested in the farm and the children.
    He pressed his point and told her again of the lovely things in his house. “It’s all ready and waiting for you to move in. Surely you can see how your children would benefit from the move.”
    That argument always made her wonder if she was doing the right thing. In town, Dougie and Mary would be close to school. They’d be able to play with their friends. They could enjoy a few conveniences. Even luxuries.
    â€œWhat would I do with the farm?” she asked. They’d discussed this before and he always had the same answer.
    â€œSell it, of course. Maybe not right away. Not unless we can get a decent price for it.”
    â€œDoyle, if only you could understand what the farm means to me.” She’d tried so often to explain it.
    â€œYou won’t need the farm to have a home. You’ll have my home. A far better home. You won’t have to struggle and work so hard anymore. I will take care of you. You can enjoy life.”
    â€œI need more than a fine home.”
    â€œYou’ll have much more. You’ll have the best of everything.”
    She put on a gentle expression as she hid her disappointment. She’d have to accept her loneliness a bit longer because she couldn’t let the farm go. Not yet. Maybe never. If he’d ever suggested she keep it…
    But he was unwavering in his opinion of what should happen. He folded his napkin and placed it neatly beside his cup. “Besides, you can’t manage on your own.”
    It was the final clincher. Little did he know this insistence convinced her to dig in her heels and hang on. She’d find a way to survive, manage on her own.
    It was too bad because she liked Doyle. He was attentive and kind, accompanied her to church, and indeed, offered her a fine life. She was genuinely fond of him. Did she love him? She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t even sure she wanted that.
    What did she want? Consider the lilies how they grow: they toil not, they spin not; yet I say unto you that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. If then God so clothe the grass, which is to day in the field, and to morrow is cast into the oven; how much more will he clothe you, O ye of little faith?
    Yes, God would take care of her. She believed it with every breath she took. But she couldn’t be content like the lilies with only the fields for her home. She wanted four solid walls and a roof. She wanted to be warm and dry, have food in her cellar or—thinking of the chickens and the meat and eggs they provided—on two squawking legs.
    Certainly Doyle would generously provide for her, but it didn’t feel the same as the security of her own piece of land and ownership of her own house.
    She sighed from the bottom of her heart.
    â€œProblems?” Hatcher asked.
    His question brought her back from thoughts of her visit with Doyle. She realized what she longed for was someone with whom she could discuss her farming problems. To Doyle there was no problem. Or at least, a simple solution. Sell. She laughed a little to hide her embarrassment at being caught spending her time in wishing for things that might never be.
    â€œYou found a hired man today?” Hatcher asked.
    â€œI didn’t.”
    He glanced over his shoulder, a puzzled look on his face.
    â€œWhen I came through town there were at least a dozen men hanging about looking for work.”
    She shrugged, noting that today Hatcher wore a clean, unpressed shirt in washed-out gray. “I started to put up the ad.” Her skin had tingled, her face grown hot at the men watching her, waiting to read the notice. “I changed my mind.” She didn’t need help that badly—to invite a stranger into her life. “I decided I can manage on my own.”
    He turned his attention back to his tea. “Hope all your tractor needs is an adjustment to the