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“So, you have three brothers?” Levi asked, pulling that tidbit of information from something she’d mentioned about milking with her siblings.
“Yes. Micah is the oldest. He’ll take over the dairy someday. He loves the farm and would never consider leaving. Jared is two years older than me, and he’s currently in Vietnam. Last I heard, he was doing okay, but he’s looking forward to coming home in August. Jason is almost five years younger than me, and he’s taking agriculture-focused business classes at Oregon State University in Corvallis. He has one more year before he graduates. His hope is to get a job with Sinclair Industries and build a career working for the company. None of them are married, and my mother is beginning to fear she’s failed in raising us, me most of all since I chose a career over becoming a housewife right out of school.”
He chuckled. “I’m pretty sure my mom thinks the same thing. What about your dad?”
Grace grinned. “I’m his favorite, but don’t tell the others. Dad supports and encourages me, as well as my brothers. He’s probably a little harder on Jason because he’s the baby, but Mom has spoiled him until he’s almost rotten. In fact, Dad just sent me the coolest gift the other day.”
“Really? What was it?”
“A pistol.”
Unable to hide his shock, his eyes widened, and Grace smirked, aware she’d caught him off guard.
“That wasn’t what you expected, was it?” she asked.
Before he could reply, the waitress returned with their meals. After she set their plates in front of them and placed a pitcher of syrup on the table to go with Grace’s French toast, she fisted her hands on her ample hips and looked from Levi to Grace. “Anything else for you kids?”
Levi looked at Grace, who gave a slight shake of her head. He smiled at the waitress and nodded politely. “Thank you. This all looks great.”
“Enjoy!” the woman bustled off, leaving them to their meals.
Levi surveyed the tender slices of turkey, the mound of potatoes and gravy, another mound of sage-scented dressing, a scoop of steamed carrots and peas, and a spoonful of cranberry sauce on his plate and concluded he’d made a great choice with his meal. He looked over to see Grace slathering warm butter across her French toast, then pouring syrup over the top. She had a thick slice of smoky ham, crispy hash browns, and a fried egg on her plate, along with a tiny fruit cup that held two strawberries and half a dozen green grapes.
When Grace bowed her head, Levi reached across the table and took her hand in his. Startled, she looked up at him, but he bowed his head and offered a quiet blessing on their meal that only the two of them could hear.
“Amen,” she said, then smiled at him. “Thanks for that. Might I assume you attend a church?”
“Every Sunday as long as I can remember unless I was gone or sick. I’m pretty sure the fifth pew on the left side at the Star Community Church has a permanent imprint of our backsides.”
Grace laughed softly. “That sounds like us at home. We always sit in the seventh pew on the right side. My spot is between Daddy and Micah.”
He liked the way she called her father “Daddy” and spoke of her family with such fondness. It gave him insight into her character to know she loved her family, and the fact that she’d grown up in a small town on a farm didn’t hurt anything either.
Levi had dated a number of girls in the past, several of whom lived in town, and none of them had enjoyed coming out to the farm. Once they found out he had no inclination to move into Boise, it meant the end to all but one of those relationships. The only girl who hadn’t cared he was a farmer took quite an exception to his being a soldier.
Regardless, Grace, a girl who’d been raised in the country, would understand how much Levi needed the open spaces, fresh air, and the dirt beneath his feet. At least, he hoped she would, assuming he didn’t botch their first date so badly that she’d never speak to him again.
He took a few bites of his meal, then looked to Grace. “You started to tell me about a pistol your dad sent to you. What is it? A Colt?”
“Well, it looks like a Colt, but it has pink mother-of-pearl grips. It once belonged to Annie Oakley.”
Levi’s eyes widened in surprise again. “That is amazing. Where did he find it?”
“He was at a dairy meeting in Salem and found it in a junk store, which is so out of character for Dad to go into a place like that. Anyway, the sales clerk told him the gun had belonged to an actress of whom Dad is quite fond. She’s old now, but back in the day, she was popular. I think he bought it because the actress might have owned it at one time but also because it’s so pretty.”
Levi watched as Grace took a dainty bite of her French toast. Before he lost his nerve, he decided to ask the question darting around in his mind like a kernel of popcorn hopping around in a hot skillet.
“If you haven’t shot it yet and would like to try hitting some targets, you could come out to my place next weekend.”
“For real?” Grace dabbed at her mouth with her napkin and gave him an earnest look of interest. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all. I’d like to see this pink pistol of yours.” He leaned a little closer and lowered his voice, as though he were about to reveal a secret. “But don’t let my mother see it. She loves the color pink and might just talk you out of it.”
“No,” she said, cutting a piece of her ham. “I don’t think I could part with it. Not now, anyway.”
Levi listened as she explained about her great-grandpa’s cousin once having it in her possession and was awed to think the woman had once worked in a mine, setting dynamite blasts.
“Wow, Grace. Did Rena make it into any history books for doing work so unusual for a woman at the time?”
