Jesse opened the door and stepped inside. The room was long and narrow. Wooden shelves along one wail were filled with glass jars of preserves, most likely from the small garden he had seen behind the house. An iron bed with a bare mattress stood along the opposite wall under a gingham-curtained window. A simple wooden chest held a brass lamp and an old-fashioned pitcher and bowl for water.

"This'll do fine," he said.

"But-"

He turned and she was aware of how small the room was, or rather, how he filled it. She took a step back, away from the very strong attraction she felt. "The room in the barn is bigger," she argued. "You'd have more privacy."

He grinned. "I suppose that's true, if you don't count the livestock."

"I have to come in here sometimes to get food from the shelves," she explained.

"You could knock."

"Yes, I suppose I could." It was hard to argue with logic. Yet Honey didn't want to concede defeat. Otherwise, she was going to find herself with the hired hand constantly underfoot. She made a last effort to convince him the barn was a better choice. "The boys sometimes make a lot of noise. Morning and evening. You won't get much peace and quiet if you stay here."

"I expect I'll be going to bed later and getting up earlier than they will," he replied.

Honey sighed. This wasn't working out as she had planned at all. Somehow she had ended up with this part-savage stranger, this drifter, living under her roof. She wasn't exactly frightened of him, but she was uneasy. After all, what did she really know about him?

He seemed to sense her hesitation and said, "If you don't feel comfortable with me in the house, of course I'll sleep in the barn…"

There it was, her chance to avoid coping with his presence in the house. She opened her mouth to say "Please do" and instead said, "That won't be necessary. I'm sure this will work out fine."

At that moment the kitchen screen door slammed open and Jonathan came racing through. "Hi, Mom! Hi, Jesse! I'm missing cartoons!" He was through the kitchen and gone before Honey could even gasp a hello.

A few moments later Jack appeared at' the door. He didn't greet his mother or the hired man, simply dropped his books on the kitchen table and headed straight for the cookie jar on the counter. He reached inside and found it empty. "Hey! I thought you were going to bake some cookies today."

"I didn't have time," Honey apologized.

He opened a cupboard, looking for something else to eat.

Honey saw Jesse's jaw tighten, as though he wanted to say something but was biting his tongue. Perhaps Jack wasn't as courteous as he could have been, but from what Honey had gathered from the mothers of Jack's friends, it was typical teenage behavior. She was used to it. Apparently Jesse wasn't.

Jack seemed oblivious to them as he hauled bread, peanut butter and jelly out onto the counter and made himself a sandwich.

Honey watched Jesse's expression harden. She wasn't sure whether to be more vexed and annoyed by Jack's conduct, or Jesse's reaction to it.

Jack picked up his sandwich, took a bite that encompassed nearly half of it, and headed out the kitchen door toward the den and the television.

"Do you have any homework?" Honey asked.

"Just studying for tests," Jack said through a mouthful of peanut butter. "I'll do it later."

Honey hadn't realized Jesse could move so fast. Before Jack reached the kitchen door, the hired hand blocked his way.

"Just a minute, son."

Jack stiffened. "You're in my way."

"That was the general idea."

Jack turned to his mother, clearly expecting her to resolve the situation.

Honey wasn't sure what Jesse intended, let alone whether she could thwart that intention. For her son's sake, she had to try. "Jesse-"

"This is between me and Jack," Jesse said.

"I don't have anything to say to you," Jack retorted.

"Maybe not. But I've got a few things to say to you."

Jack balled his fist, turning the sandwich Into a squashed mess. "You've got no right-"

"First off, a gentleman greets a lady when he comes into the room. Second, he doesn't complain about the vittles. Third, he asks for what he needs from a lady's kitchen, he doesn't just take it. Fourth, he inquires whether chores need to be done before he heads for the bunkhouse. And finally, he doesn't talk with his mouth full."

Jack swallowed. The soft bread felt like spiny tumbleweed as it grated over the constriction in his throat. This was the kind of dressing-down his father might have given him. The kind of talking-to he hadn't had for more than a year, since his father's death. He resented it. Even though he knew deep down that the hired hand was right.

Jack angled his face to his mom, to see what she was going to do about the drifter's interference. He felt sick in the pit of his stomach when he saw how pale her face was. Jack turned from his mother and confronted the hired hand. He let the hostility he was feeling show in his eyes, but for his mother's sake, struggled to keep it out of his voice. "Maybe I was wrong," he conceded.

Jesse continued to stare at the boy and was pleased when the gangly teenager turned to his mother and gritted out, "Hello, Mom. Thanks for the sandwich."

Jack looked down at the mess in his hand and grimaced.

"You can wash your hands in the sink," Honey said.

Jesse stepped aside to allow the boy to pass and in doing so, glanced at Honey. Her dark blue eyes were afire with emotion, but it wasn't gratitude he saw there. Obviously he had stepped amiss. He clenched his teeth over the explanation for his actions that sprang to mind. She didn't look as though she wanted to hear reason.

Jesse and Honey stared at each other while Jack washed his hands. He turned from the sink, still drying his hands with a dish towel, and asked his mother, "Are there any chores that need to be done before supper?"

Since Cale's death, Honey had taken the responsibility for almost all the ranch chores her husband had done in the evening. When Jack offered, she realized there was work that still needed to be done in the barn that she would appreciate having Jack's help completing. "You can feed the stock," she said. "Also, I let General out into the corral. Would you bring him back inside the barn for the night?"

"Sure, Mom. Anything else?"

"That's all I can think of now."

Without looking at Jesse again, Jack pushed his way out the screen door and let it slam behind him.

The tension was palpable once the two adults were alone.

Jesse started to apologize for interfering, then bit his tongue. He had been hard on the boy, but no more so than his father had been with him. A tree grew as the sapling began. Now was the time for Jack to learn courtesy and responsibility.

"I don't quite know what to say," Honey began. "I don't agree with your methods, but I can't argue with the results. Maybe I've been too lax with Jack the past few months, but he took Cale's death so hard, I…"

Jesse heard the tremor in her voice and took a step toward her. As soon as he did, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.

"It hasn't been easy for any of us," she said in a firmer voice. "But we've managed to get along."

Jesse heard ' 'without your help'' even though she didn't say the words. So be it. This was the last time he would get involved. If she wanted to let the boy walk all over her, that was her business. It was just fine with him.

Like hell it was.

"Look," he said. "I can't promise I won't say anything more to the boy. We have to work together, after all. But I'll try not to step on any toes in the future. How does that sound?"

"Like the best compromise I'm going to get," Honey replied with a rueful smile.

"Guess I'll go work on that fence."

"I'll take my bath early," she said. "That way the bathroom will be free when you get back."