There was a knock at the door as they were finishing up breakfast. Jed went to the door to find a middle-aged lady, who asked him, "May I speak to Sister Ruth?"

Jed looked at Ruth unhappily. "Your followers are coming to the house now."

She ignored the jibe but came over to see what it was about.

"Why don't you go to the pastor?" Wallace asked the woman before Ruth could say anything.

"I feel more comfortable talking to another woman about my problem," she answered and then looked to Ruth pleadingly. "Will you talk with me, please?"

"Well, of course I will, sister. Perhaps we could take a walk. It's a nice enough day."

She agreed and they left for their walk.

"I wonder what that was about?" Jed asked, peering through the window at their retreating forms.

"Nothing good if she can't talk to the pastor about it. I hope Ruth has sense enough to set that young woman straight," Wallace grumbled.

Kid, eager to get away from their speculation and judgment, went out to the barn to check on the new foal. He for one had no desire to find out what that was about, especially if it was a woman problem.

He was startled when his mother came into the barn. She moved beside him, not saying a word, but he feared she was there to criticize Ruth or him.

"Pretty little horse," she commented at last.

Kid relaxed. She had come to see the foal. He turned his attention to the colt again too.

She was circling the stall, still wobbly on her legs.

"Odd how animals learn so quickly. People learn so much more slowly, don't they?"

He wondered if that was a veiled barb or if she was just making the comment in general. "I'm sorry if we caused any trouble between you and Daddy over Millie." There was a sorry but not the sorry he wanted to say.

"He wasn't happy about it, but I think deep down he knows he should have gone to Mildred's baptism too. At least, he didn't try to stop her."

"I'm sorry, Momma." He said the words in a rush before his courage failed him.

"Sorry about what?" she asked, turning to cast a puzzled look at him.

He couldn't turn to look at her; he continued to study the foal instead as he said, "I'm sorry about Ben. If I could trade my life for his, I would. I never meant—I know I was careless. That it all was my fault."

Her arms suddenly enclosed around him tightly. "Son, I'd never ask you to trade your life. I would have given my own life for his but not yours or Mildred's or Jedidiah's. And it wasn't all your fault. Benjamin shouldn't have been carrying on either. It was an accident. There's nobody to blame."

"You saying I wasn't the cause? Because I was, whether I meant to be or not, the result's the same."

"You've received punishment enough. I forgive you."

Tears of joy and sorrow fell as he felt loved in her strong embrace. He pulled away. "But you blamed me, didn't you? Why weren't you happy to see me when I came back?"

"I was hurt because you left without saying anything, but I never stopped praying for you or hoping you'd return. When you did come I was too surprised to know how to react. You were—you are so different. You're older, you dress different, even your name is different, but you're still my son and I guess I didn't realize how much you needed to hear that."

"You can't tell me though that Jed and Daddy don't blame me. I won't receive their forgiveness so easily."

"No, you probably won't," she agreed. "'Looking diligently lest any man fail of the grace of God; lest any root of bitterness springing up trouble you, and thereby many be defiled.' I haven't abandoned my Bible readings even though we've stopped reading as a family and that's the verse I was on today. It spoke to me. God spoke to me."

"And what did He say?"

"I knew He was telling me I had to talk to you. Bitterness is a terrible root and I'm afraid we've allowed it to grow in our family and forgotten about grace. I didn't realize how bitter until I saw you with Jedidiah and your father, but it's time we grieved together as a family and found joy again. God's asking me to help put things to right."

"I know you don't like Ruth, but—"

"I like your wife very much," Eleanor interrupted. "Did I ever say otherwise? She helped Millie and she clearly helped you."

He looked very pleased and then continued, "Ruth's good at getting people talking and thinking on God."

"I've noticed that. I'll talk with her about it cause your daddy and brother are so mulish; I really don't know how I'm going to go about it."

The foal had drawn closer to inspect them; her curiosity getting the best of her. Kid reached out a hand to stroke her velvety nose, but the skittish foal ran and hid behind Carmel.

"You thought of a name for it yet?" she asked.

"No."

"How about Grace?" she suggested.

Kid smiled. "If I know Ruth, she'll love that name." Then he lost the smile. "I don't deserve grace."

"No one does. Grace is free and for the undeserving; true grace can only come from God, but if the Lord Jehovah can extend grace, we have no excuse to hold back any forgiveness or kindness to others." She sighed. "Well, I can't while the day away. There's work to be done."

She turned to go and then stopped. "Your father went looking for you, you know," she said.

Kid hadn't been expecting that. "He what?"

"He went looking for you as soon as we found out you were gone. He didn't find you obviously, but he tried. Your father loves you."

"Don't try to cover up for him, Momma. I heard him that day when he said that it should have been me who died."

She looked pained for him then she said, "People put on all kinds of masks to hide their hurt. Some people hide behind laughter, some behind stoicism, and for some it's anger. I know it hurt to hear that but sometimes people say things they don't really mean when they're hurting, things they can never back. And too, it's easier to try and pin fault on someone else to hide from the guilt you feel inside. Whatever mask a person chooses, it makes the pain they're feeling no less real and there. Try to remember that when you're dealing with him."

He grunted noncommittally.

She smiled. "You sound like your father."

The words stung though he knew she didn't mean them to. "I'm not like my father," he said sharply. But even as he departed ahead of her, angry and looking to be alone with his thoughts, he knew it was all too true.