Glamorous Illusions Read Online Free Page B

can’t.” He lifted the box. “You think I could sell this here? Or even the next county over?” He cocked his head again. “Not likely.”
    My eyes went over this meager jewelry case, filled with lockets of fake gold and silver, along with a few hair clips and broaches. “Then hold it for me. Use it as collateral against my own credit line. If we can’t pay you, come harvest, you can sell it for whatever you can get, the next time you go to Billings.”
    He raised his eyebrows. “It’s worth far more than the seed you’re after, Cora. Far more.” He lifted the box in my direction, offering it to me.
    I paused. “Then sell it, keep twenty percent, and give me the remainder after you take out your costs,” I said. “Or…or lend me the money for the train and I’ll head there tomorrow and come back with the cash to pay you.”
    He stared at me in surprise.
    My face burned with embarrassment. So forward! So demanding! What had come over me?
    Desperation. Desperation to save us all.
    â€œNo,” he said resignedly. “If I take it as collateral, you at least have the chance to get it back if this cursed dry streak eases.” He flipped the lid closed and wearily pulled out a ledger. I held my breath. But then he began to write my name at the top. He was going to do it. Coming through for the Diehls yet again.
    â€œOh, thank you, Mr. Donnelly,” I breathed, sinking into relief.
    â€œDon’t thank me, Cora,” he said grimly, looking at me again as if he wanted to say more and then shaking his head. “Don’t thank me.”

CHAPTER 5
    ~Cora~
    We never discussed the particulars of how I’d obtained the best-quality seed—Mr. Donnelly insisted I take it if I wanted “the crop to have half a chance.”
    Papa greeted me at the barn. He ran his hand over the sacks in the back of the wagon and then gave me a sidelong glance. “You really are a woman grown, Cora. Thank you.”
    â€œIt’s because of me that we’re in this mess. If you hadn’t sent me off to Normal School—”
    â€œNo,” he said, laying a gentle hand—his good hand—on my forearm. “That was not a mistake. That was a stake in your future. We’ll get you back there, Cora, come fall.”
    â€œGod has my future,” I said, and Papa met my eye and smiled in approval.
    We immediately set to work that afternoon. Papa and I even plowed into the night, working with a lantern. Within a week, the north forty was plowed, the seed scattered.
    We paused at the corner as we finished. I was filthy and exhausted. But it was done. “Let the prayers begin,” Papa said, casting a searching glance to the dry, cloudless skies.
    I studied his face. One side still sagged. I couldn’t bear the hope I saw in his eyes, despite the grim Farmer’s Almanac predictions, despite the talk at the Grange Hall. Because it made me fearful for him. He was so infernally optimistic. He never held back, never tried to protect a portion of his heart.
    He saw me staring at him, read the question in my eyes. “Love believes all things, hopes for all things, Cora. God loves us. Sees us. He’ll see us through.”
    â€œYes,” I said numbly.
    But I knew, deep down, that I was protecting a portion of my heart, even if he refused to do so.

    We were blessed with a decent rain three days later, and we knew every farmer across the valley was cheering as we were. It took only a week for us to find the tiny bright-green sprouts beginning to unfurl beneath the dry soil, looking stubbornly healthy, hopeful, despite their harsh environment. Papa took to circling the north forty twice a day, dragging his bad foot along, but he stood straighter, with barely a stoop to his shoulders. Whatever became of the farm and of us, it heartened me, as it did Mama, to see him doing so well.
    I’d finished my chores and helped Mama