Gingham Mountain by Mary Connealy Page B

her crown in heaven for bending the rules and letting me take those kids.”
    “I may report her yet.” Hannah tore her eyes away from Grant and stroked one hand over Benny’s hair, still soaked from after-church sledding and tinged with blood. “Isn’t she answerable to anyone?”
    “You leave her alone.” Grant’s eyes narrowed. “She’s the finest woman I’ve ever known. If you cause her one second’s trouble, so help me, Hannah, I’ll—”
    “Don’t you threaten me.” Hannah stepped right up into his face. “If my complaint causes her trouble, then what does that say about her actions? If she’s got nothing to hide, then—”
    “What was the point of me living in a house by myself while they had nothing?” Grant leaned down toward the stubborn woman. “I didn’t plan it, but I couldn’t let them go all the way back to New York.”
    Hannah’s chest heaved and her eyes flashed fire. She clung to Benny as if she’d be willing to fight and die to protect him.
    This little spitfire was as alive and spirited as anyone he’d ever known. Grant couldn’t look away.
    “If you were adopted, why didn’t you take your parents’ name? Then all these children would have names.”
    “My parents’ name was Cooper. I can use that if I need to. But I want to remember what it’s like to not have a name.”
    “Why? Why would you cling to that memory? By not claiming a legitimate last name, you’re reminded every second of every day of your hardships. That has to be. . .exhausting.” Hannah shuddered as if she herself had burdens that rode on her shoulders and never let her rest.
    Grant wondered what those burdens were, and if she’d had any luck forgetting. He didn’t think so. He thought his way was more honest. “It’s who I am. It’s what I am. Why try and forget something that is unforgettable?”
    Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. She glanced at Libby in Grant’s arms, and the two females exchanged a long, secretive look.
    Grant tightened his hold on his newest daughter. He’d have to keep a sharp eye out or this lady might go to stealing his children. “The second I forget what it’s like to be alone, maybe I’ll forget there are children in this world who need me. I’ll never do that.” Grant held Hannah’s gaze.
    He saw her waver between compassion for the children and maybe some compassion for him. Her eyes hardened and she hugged Benny closer.
    His shoulders slumped. He’d picked a life that was one long fight—wonderful but troubled children, unkind townspeople, and contemptuous teachers. He looked at the bedroll he’d shoved under the kitchen table. He didn’t even have a room to sleep in anymore.
    Disgusted, he shook his head. “I’m through wasting my breath on you. Why’d I think for even a minute you might understand?”
    He turned away and set Libby in a chair by the stove. “Just finishyour inspection and go, teacher lady. I told you where the girls sleep. Joshua has the back bedroom, and Charlie and Benny sleep in the loft. That’s not too crowded.”
    “You forgot to mention yourself, Pa.” Sadie pointed out helpfully. “You’re going to sleep where it’s warm by the fire. So the off side of the kitchen is your bedroom. That makes four bedrooms.”
    Thanks a lot. Grant knew Hannah wouldn’t let that pass. He shook his head and braced himself.
    “A four-bedroom home,” Hannah said with a surprising amount of sarcasm for a woman holding a child so gently in her arms. “Why, it’s the next thing to a mansion.”
    Of course Grant’s house wasn’t a mansion. The kitchen was just barely big enough to contain one long thin table, two benches on each long side, a stool on each short side, a potbelly stove, a dry sink, and a fireplace. When he’d started, he had the cabin, the land, and a few dozen head of cattle left to him by his parents, but not a penny in cash. He’d scrimped and saved, living off the land for years. These days, with his herd growing