They must be almost out of biscuits then. He nodded and sent a smile. “Perfect. That’d go nice with ham. We can startbeans soaking tonight so they can cook tomorrow for the evening meal. Beans and cornbread is James’s favorite meal.”
Relief flooded her expression. “I’d appreciate that. I’d hate to disappoint everyone.”
“You haven’t disappointed anyone.” So very much the opposite. “You’ve been remarkable.”
She ducked her head at the compliment, and something warm flickered in his chest. He tamped it down. His job was to protect her, not fall for her.
He moved to the cupboard, pulling down plates and cutlery. “I’ll set the table.” Best he keep busy.
By the time his brothers came in from the barn and washed, Mandie had ladled stew into all the bowls and set them out on the table. She’d also positioned flowers in the middle, though he had no idea when she’d gathered them.
The entire scene looked…different. Better. She might not know all the frontier cooking skills, but she brought refinement to their table.
Once his brothers settled and James spoke the blessing, his brothers filled the silence with their usual conversation. Thomas and James squabbled about who’d felled the most trees, then Robert shared news from town. Not much new since he’d gone to take the telegram two days before.
Enoch watched Mandie throughout the meal, and she appeared to relax as conversation flowed around her, though her eyes still held that shadow of worry.
After the dishes were cleared and washed—he and his brothers did that part, despite Mandie’s protests—Thomas and James set up the chessboard as they did most evenings, while Robert settled into his favorite chair with a dog-eared book. Enoch attempted to do the same with his Bible, though he kept an eye on Mandie as she sank onto one of the upholstered chairs.
The familiar rhythm of their evening routine settled over the house, but Mandie seemed to hover at its edges, not quite finding her place.
“Care to join us for a game?” Thomas gestured to the chess pieces.
“Oh, I...” Mandie hesitated. “I’ve never really played chess.”
“I could teach you.” Thomas flashed one of his smiles that always won Mrs. Wang over. “It’s not as complicated as it looks.”
That charm didn’t work as well on Mandie though. “Thank you, but perhaps another time.” She folded her hands in her lap, her gaze drifting toward the window where darkness was gathering.
Enoch recognized that restless look. He felt it himself sometimes when the walls of the house pressed in too close, when his thoughts grew too loud.
He set his Bible on the side table and stood. “I need to check on the mare.” He kept his voice casual as he looked to Mandie. “Would you like to come along? Might be nice to get outside when it’s cooler.”
Relief flickered across her face. “I’d like that.”
He grabbed a lantern from near the door, lit it from the one on the corner table, then handed Mandie her shawl from the peg. “You might need this. The evenings can get chilly when we’re nearing autumn.”
The soft wool settled over her shoulders as she wrapped it around herself. She looked so at home in that moment, preparing to walk with him under the starlight.
He swallowed and turned to open the door, allowing her to pass first.
The evening had cooled considerably, the mountain air crisp against his skin as they crossed the yard toward the stable. Stars were beginning to prick the darkening sky, and a sliver of moon hung above the mountains.
Beside him, Mandie drew a deep breath, her shoulders lowering as tension visibly drained from her frame. “It’s beautiful here.” Her voice came out soft, almost reverent. “So vast.”
“Different from Savannah, I imagine.”
“Very.” She glanced at him. “Though both have their own kind of beauty.”
The lantern light caught the angles of her face, softening them. She was certainly the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, but he was doing his best to ignore that fact.
Forcing his focus ahead, he held the barn door open for her, and the familiar smells of hay and horses greeted them as they entered. At least most of the smoky scent was gone now.
“She’s here at the front.” He motioned toward the mare in the first stall, and Mandie moved that direction. “This is Willow.”
Willow nickered as they approached, stretching her neck over the stall door. Her coat glistened. Was that sweat?
He reached to run his hand down the mare’s neck. Not sweat, just her thin summer coat in the lantern light. He’d been watching for days now for any sign of early labor—pacing, sweating, nipping at her flanks. So far, only a bit of leaking milk showed that her time was imminent.
