“We hope,” Jeremiah said, his attention moving toward the front door. “Looks like Potter’s back.”
“You sure you don’t need me?”
“I’ve got it. You get on to working on that house, so you can marry that girl already.” Jeremiah winked at him and made his way toward the front of the stable.
Thoughts of Clara followed Roman to pick up some tools in the back room, and continued to follow him as he walked outside and around the corral. He absentmindedly scratched the nose of a paint pony that belonged to one of the men in town before striding back to the unfinished house. He stood inside, letting his eyes travel the length of the beams around him. There was a lot still to be done.
He retrieved wood from the lean-to and set to work, cutting and fitting, hammering and nailing. Images of Clara floating about the finished house, hanging pictures and setting dinner on the stove and reading in the parlor, kept him company while he worked. Jeremiah brought him a plate of slightly burnt beans and a slab of crusty bread just as the sun began to set. Roman retrieved a lamp and continued to work.
He didn’t know the time when he stepped back to admire the two finished exterior walls. It actually looked like a house now, with spaces cut out for windows and a doors. He smiled as the stars twinkled overhead, then walked inside the house to see how it all looked from there.
Inside, he raised the lantern to examine the walls. He’d done good work, particularly for someone who’d never built more than a fence before a few months ago. He sat back against one of the walls in the parlor, setting the lantern beside him. The room would be big enough to hold a settee and perhaps a chair or two in front of the fireplace, but small enough to be cozy on a cold winter’s night.
Roman looked up at the stars shining between the beams of the ceiling. He could just make out the frame of the second-floor room that sat above the bedroom.
A home of his own. He couldn’t even have imagined such a thing a few years ago. When it was complete, he’d pay a photographer to come down from Cañon City and take an image of himself and Clara in front of the house to send home to his parents. It may not be one of the fine city homes his brothers lived in, but he’d have built the place with his own hands.
It was surely something they could be proud of.
He ought to put the tools up and take himself to bed. Morning couldn’t be all that far off. But the view here was so nice, and it wasn’t all that uncomfortable . . .
Roman’s eyes drifted closed as he imagined Clara’s smile upon seeing the house again.
Chapter Fourteen
“JUST THINK, YOU MIGHTbe the first to be married in the church here!” Abigail Regis said, her jam and bread forgotten on her plate.
“Oh no, I believe someone was married there in June, before it was even complete,” Deirdre Hannan said. She’d come to Crest Stone a few months ago with her brother, who was helping to build many of the businesses and homes in town. “A rancher and his wife, if I remember correctly. It was before you arrived, Abigail. And then the marshal and Edie were married there too.”
Clara smiled, her breakfast already finished, as her two new friends and fellow boardinghouse residents discussed her wedding. She was famished this morning, having already polished off four thick slices of Miss Darby’s bread and preserves.
“We’ve only just become engaged. We haven’t yet even discussed a wedding,” she said.
“Oh, but it’s just so wonderful to think about, isn’t it?” Abigail asked, clasping her hands together. She had come to town to find housekeeping work, but with there being none available, she’d decided to start taking in laundry.
“It is,” Clara admitted.
