If You Believe

He coughed hard. When it was over, he sagged backward. God, he was tired, and there was a persistent, nagging pain in his left shoulder.

It was hell to get old.

Lately he was tired and sore and coughing all the time. He even woke up tired.

Down the hill, a movement caught his eye.

His gaze followed it. Mad Dog was walking toward Mariah. He stopped at the washbasin and held out an apple. Then a second one. A few moments later, he heard the unmistakable—incredible—sound of Mariahs laughter.

Rass sat up straighter. "Did you hear that, liebchen! She laughed. " He shook his head. "Our little girl laughed. "

The sound recalled a dozen hazy, treasured memories of Mariahs childhood. She used to laugh all the time. Shed been so passionate about life, so spirited. It had taken all of Gretas strength to keep up with her headstrong daughter.

And now, here she was laughing again. For the first time in years.

Rass whistled softly. Maybe hed done the right thing after all. Maybe Mad Dog Stone was exactly what Mariah needed.

She laughed.

He shook his head. It might not be earth-shattering, might not be a wedding, but, by God, it was a start.

Chapter Six

Marian wrung out Mad Dogs now white shirt and slapped it over the top rung of the wooden clothes bar. Fat, clear droplets slid down the sleeves and plopped on the golden grass. Beside and below the shirt, petticoats, shirts, pantalets, and sheets shimmied in the cool breeze.

She stepped back, blinking at the eye-splitting field of white. A tired sigh escaped her lips as she stretched her aching, chapped fingers.

Lord, she was exhausted. Saturdays were the worst day of the week for her.

Carrying bucket after bucket of boiling water from the stove to the washtub, turning the tubs wooden-handled crank for endless, back-breaking hours, wringing out dozens of heavy sheets and feeding them through the Economic Starcher. And she wasnt even finished. On Monday shed spend countless hours hunched over a hot iron.

Just the thought of ironing made her feel weak. And hot.

And ready for a swim.

Sighing, she dipped her hands into the now cool rinse water and splashed her face.

When she opened her eyes, Mad Dog Stone was standing directly in front of her.

He looked as tired as she felt.

"Christ," he said, sopping his brow with his sleeve, "what a day. It was hotter than shit for fall. "

Mariah managed a weak smile. She was too tired to argue with him over his language—or anything else. "Pickings hot work. "

"Sos laundry. "

She smoothed the damp hair from her face with fingers that shook with fatigue. She knew he expected a response, but she was too tired to make the effort. Even an insipid nod was beyond her.

Lord, that swim would have felt good today. . . .

"Well, if youre finished with me, Im gonna lay down for a while. "

Mariah perked up slightly. "Really?"

He swiped his brow with his sleeve again. "Yeah. Unless . . . "

"Unless what?"