Logan had gone hunting and she looked forward to a few quiet hours to herself. She had just settled down with her Bible when a knock sounded. She opened the door and was greeted by a miner. “Don’t know if ye remember me, Lassie, Ah’m Duncan McGuire,” he said in a Scottish brogue. Libby smiled. “Of course I remember you, Mr. McGuire. You led the choir that sang to me on Christmas Day.” Duncan’s face lit up. “That Ah did.” “You also brought the baby a mouth organ.” His grin almost reached his ears. “Thought ya bairn would like it.” “Won’t you please come in?” Duncan pulled off his hat and stepped inside. “Sorry ta bother ya.” “It’s no bother,” Libby said. “Would you like some coffee? I just made a fresh pot.” “If ya don’t mind.”
