Autumn Winds Read Online Free

fella we’ve never seen.”
    “ Jah , I’m a real shiftless sort. Got a string of broken hearts for a hatband, ya know,” Ben teased. He tried not to be obvious about looking her over as she returned to the table. “So . . . this Bishop Knepp with the need for a wife. Gettin’ a little long in the tooth, is he?”
    “Matter of fact, we’re surprisin’ him with a birthday party tomorrow after preachin’. Why not stay for the services and join us for the meal?” she suggested cheerfully. “Hiram’s turnin’ fifty-five. Not all that old, as bishops go—”
    “But way too old for you , Miriam!” Ben’s eyes got as wide as hers did, at the forceful way he’d spoken. “What I mean is—it’s not for me to say, ya understand—but the last thing a woman like you needs is a fella on his third wife, set in his ways—”
    “Like a fence post in concrete, jah .”
    “—and expectin’ ya to fit into a family that’s already got their habits. Not to mention mixin’ your girls in with the bishop’s youngsters,” Ben added. “And you’d be givin’ up your own home . . . this nice café and your bakin’ business.”
    Miriam considered him carefully then; really looked at Ben. He could only gaze back, his breakfast forgotten. “Now how’d ya know about such a thing?” she murmured. “That’s exactly what I told my Rachel and Rhoda—twins they are, and twenty-one now—about why I wouldn’t consider courtin’ Hiram. They’re all grown up—and with Rachel marryin’ later this month and livin’ in our big house, mixin’ them with the Knepp kids isn’t such a concern. But jah . . .” She sighed as she cut two huge wedges of that pumpkin pie. She plopped a big spoonful of real whipped cream on them, too. “Hiram’s not a man to take no for an answer.”
    Ben inhaled the spicy scent of cinnamon and cloves as he cut off the tip of his piece of pie. He dragged that bite through the whipped cream and then took his time about closing his mouth over it . . . savoring its thick sweetness and the dense texture. “Miriam,” he finally said.
    She looked across the table at him, her fork still in front of her mouth. “ Jah? Did ya get a taste of somethin’ that didn’t mix in just right? Or—”
    “Not hardly. Never in all my days have I tasted such . . . mighty fine pie.”
    Miriam’s eyes widened. So sweet and dark brown they were, like fudge sauce. And even though she’d not taken the time yet to pull herself together for the day—hadn’t expected anyone to drop in at this hour, after all—Ben couldn’t stop gazing at her chestnut hair . . . which probably cascaded well below her bottom when a man plucked out the hairpins . . .
    “You’d be givin’ up a lot more than ya got, Miriam,” he stated softly—and where this advice was coming from, he hadn’t the slightest notion. “Not just hitchin’ in with this old Hiram fella, but havin’ to live as a bishop’s wife instead of bein’ the fine cook and companion ya were born to be.”
    Miriam’s face lit up like the sun. “Well now. Ya might be just a pup, Ben Hooley, but you’ve got an old dog’s wisdom about ya.”
    He chuckled, finding his appetite again. After another mouthful of that incredible pie, he quipped, “ Jah , probably best to keep my nose in my own bowl instead of pokin’ around in another dog’s chow,” he remarked carefully. “But don’t believe for a minute I won’t mark my territory and defend it. It’s better to be a wise old dog at home than actin’ like a lost pup alongside the road, ain’t so?”

Chapter 3
    Rhoda Lantz came through the Sweet Seasons back door into the kitchen, inhaling the heavenly aromas of apple crisp and pies and the cheesy-bacon scent of the casseroles her mother had already made for the breakfast menu. She was a little later than she’d intended to be, but hungry as she was, it was best to eat some breakfast before she helped her sister set up the dining room.
    “Mamma, ya