Chapter 32: Gray Eyes

On the ninth of March, Jesse and I walked out to the cottonwood before sunrise.

It was cold, and the snow on the east pasture had a crust that broke under our boots.

Three small stones stood under the tree, in a row, with nothing carved on them but dates.

We stood there a while.

"I used to hate this day," I said.

"I know."

"I still don't love it."

He took my hand inside his coat pocket.

"I don't think we're supposed to."

"No." I leaned my head against his arm. "But there's a party today. A three-year-old is going to demand cake."

"She'll demand it before the candles."

"She will."

He kissed my temple.

We walked back to the house with the sun coming up on the Bighorns.

By noon there were forty people in my yard.

The foreman had brought two sawhorse tables from the Renner barn, and the cook had brought a ham.

Kit ran the whole thing from the porch with a clipboard, in a clean flannel shirt, and a lanyard from the co-op around her neck.

She'd had the books for nine months, and the treasurer said they were the best the co-op had ever kept.

The court's first order had come in January.

The money from Ward arrived on the first of every month now, under a judge's order.

Nobody said a word about the envelope.

Lottie wore a yellow dress, and a paper crown, and her straw hat on top of the crown.

She had nine words now.

She used them all.

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