The Road to Love Read Online Free

intended. A fact that surprised him not at all.
    Today, as he worked, he interspersed his recitation with plans on how to rectify his debt to Mrs. Bradshaw. It would require he return to the slough where he’d spent the previous night. Not often did he retrace his steps but he couldn’t move on until he adequately repaid her.
    He finished working for Mr. Briggs, received a meager meal of one shriveled unpeeled potato and a slab of side bacon that was mostly fat. It measured poorly in comparison with the meal of the previous evening. Mr. Briggs granted him permission to use the water trough to wash his clothes and himself, which he did. In his clean set of clothes, his wet ones rolled and tied in a bundle, he returned to the slough where he hung the garments to dry.
    And then he tackled his project.
    Â 
    Next morning Hatcher headed up the driveway to the Bradshaw home with the shelf he’d created from willow branches. Nothing special. Hobos all over the country made them. In fact, she probably had several already. A woman who cooked a fine generous meal like the one she’d provided him was bound to have received gifts before.
    The big black-and-white furry dog raced out to bark at his heels.
    â€œQuiet, Shep,” he ordered.
    The animal stopped barking but growled deep in his throat as he followed so hard on Hatcher’s heels it made the back of his neck tingle.
    Not a dog to let anyone do something stupid. Good dog for a woman who appeared to be alone with two kids.
    The place seemed quiet at first but as he drew closer, he heard mumbled warnings. Seemed to be Mrs. Bradshaw speaking. Threatening someone.
    He felt a familiar pinching in his stomach warning him to walk away from a potentially explosive situation but he thought of some of the homeless, desperate, unscrupulous men he’d encountered in his travels. If one of them had cornered Mrs. Bradshaw…
    He edged forward, following the sound around the old Ford truck and drew to a halt at the sight of Mrs. Bradshaw standing on a box, her head buried under the hood of the vehicle, her voice no longer muffled by the bulk of metal and bolts.
    â€œYou good for nothing piece of scrap metal. Why do you do this to me? Just when I need you to cooperate, you get all persnickety.” She shifted, banged her head and grunted.
    â€œIf I had a stick of dynamite, I’d fix you permanently.”
    Hatcher leaned back on his heels, grinning as the woman continued to scold the inanimate object. After a moment, he decided to make a suggestion that might save both the truck and the woman from disaster.
    â€œâ€™Scuse me for interrupting, but maybe you should bribe it instead of threatening it.”
    She jerked up, crashed her head into the gaping hood and stumbled backward off the box, her palms pressed to the top of her head as she faced him, her eyes narrowed with her pain. “Oh, it’s you. You startled me.”
    He regretted she had every right to be frightened of him. Fact of the matter, she should be far more wary than she was. He tipped his head slightly. “My apologies.” He slid his gaze to the dirt-encased engine behind her. “It’s being uncooperative?”
    She turned to frown fiercely at the bowels of the truck. “I’ve done everything. Even prayed over it.”
    He blinked in surprise and amusement at the way she glanced upward as if imploring God to do something.
    â€œI might be able to help,” he said.
    She stepped aside, made a sweeping swing of her arm toward the truck. “It’s all yours, mister.”
    He hitched up his pants, pretended to spit into his palms, rubbed his hand together, and imitating her gesture, glanced imploringly skyward.
    She laughed, a snorting sound she tried to hide behind her fist.
    He darted her a quick glance, not wanting to stare at the way her warm brown eyes flashed amusement yet his gaze lingered a second as a strand of her shoulder-length