Faith protested weakly. Martha merely patted her arm. You didn't have to. That evening, as Faith prepared supper while Emma played with whistle on the cabin floor, a knock sounded at their door. Emma scrambled up to answer it, knowing Yates's distinctive knock by now.
Mr. Yates, she cried, flinging herself at him with her usual enthusiasm. Guess what? I read a whole chapter by myself today. Did you now?
He swung her up into his arms with practiced ease. "That's quite an accomplishment, Miss Emma. You'll be teaching the school yourself before long. Don't be silly," she giggled. "Mom, as the teacher, I'm going to be a horse trainer like you when I grow up." Faith smiled at their exchange as she wiped her hands on her apron.
"Good evening, Yates. You're just in time for supper, if you'd care to join us. Nothing fancy, just stew and biscuits. Sounds perfect, he replied, setting Emma down gently. Actually, I came with a purpose tonight.
There's a harvest festival in Copper Creek this Saturday. Music, dancing, food. I thought perhaps you and Emma might like to attend as my guests. Faith hesitated. Copper Creek was the next town over, about an hour's ride.
Attending a social event with Yates would certainly fuel the town gossip Martha had mentioned. "It sounds lovely, but please, mama," Emma interrupted. "I've never been to a festival. It would be completely proper," Yates assured Faith, reading her hesitation correctly. "Mrs.
Abernathy would accompany us as chaperon. And several families from Redemption Creek are planning to attend as well. Faith's reservations began to crumble. Emma deserved some fun after all they'd been through, and the thought of an evening of music and perhaps even dancing was admittedly appealing. "Very well," she agreed, trying to ignore the way her pulse quickened at Yates's delighted smile.
"We'd be happy to accompany you." "Wonderful. I'll bring the wagon around at 2:00 on Saturday. The festival begins at 4:00, but we'll want to arrive early for good seats at the concert. As they sat down to supper, Faith found herself unusually aware of Yates's presence across the table, the breadth of his shoulders, the graceful strength of his hands, the way firelight caught in his dark hair. When he occasionally met her gaze, the warmth in his green eyes made her breath catch.
Later, after Emma had been tucked into bed and Yates was preparing to leave, he paused at the door, seeming uncharacteristically hesitant. "Faith, there's something I should tell you," he said quietly. "About the festival." "Oh, in these parts, when a man escorts a woman to a social event like this, he cleared his throat." "Well, it's generally understood to be a courtship gesture," Faith's heart raced. "I see. If that makes you uncomfortable, we can certainly present it differently as friends, neighbors.