Travis leaned forward, folding his hands in front of him. “Do any of you have any . . . questions?”
“Will she replace Ma?” Lillian asked, her posture leaning forward and her blue eyes and brows displaying evident confusion.
Travis fought to hold back the tears welling in his eyes, the weight of Lillian’s words shattering his soul. “Of course not. Your ma was a special woman who loved all of you very much, and no one will ever replace her.”
“Will I have to call her Ma?” Jonas asked.
Travis shook his head. “No, Miss Callahan would be fine. After we’re married, you can call her Josephine.”
“That’s a long name,” Lillian said, leaning against Travis.
Travis chuckled for a brief moment, yet he couldn’t find anything funny about the situation. “It is.” Travis looked over at Ivy. “Is there anything you want to ask, Ivy?”
Ivy looked down at her barely eaten food. “May I be excused?”
Travis nodded. “Yes, you may.”
Ivy stood from her seat and pushed the chair under. Aunt Polly took her bowl. “I’ll put this on the stove and keep it warm.”
Ivy nodded and walked away. Travis’s chest ached for her. Peering up, he shifted his focus to Gideon, who looked at him with a bright smile that lit up his face. The boy didn’t know what was happening. Josephine Callahan would be the only mother he’d ever know. This sacrifice would change everything—for better or worse.
Chapter Four
Willow Grove, Montana; Early July 1872
Adullthrobbingpulsedin Josie’s temples and chest when the stagecoach arrived in Willow Grove. She sighed in relief, but as she looked down at her shortened nails, her fears resurfaced. It had been a long, tiring journey—six grueling days by train to St. Louis, then on to Kansas City, Denver, and finally Cheyenne. After that, Josie endured an excruciating fourteen-day stagecoach journey, jolting and rumbling across the plains.
The relentless motions had left Josie feeling sicker than she did cooped up in Aunt Tia’s attic. Vomiting and headaches had been her loyal traveling companions, refusing to leave even as passengers came and went at every stop. Each day had seemed like an eternity, and the weariness clung to her bones, achingin every attempt to stretch. Now all she wanted was a soft bed. Maybe a hot meal. Or just possibly a warm bath. Anything but more traveling.
Josie poked her head out the window, letting the gentle mountain breeze wash over her face. When would this nausea go away? But every wave of sickness, every cramp and tightness in her muscles, she reminded herself why she had embarked on this journey. She loved the baby in her womb more than anything, and her sacrifices proved how much she did. She wouldn’t be marrying a stranger if it weren’t true.
The stagecoach finally came to a halt, and the driver opened the door, extending his hand. Fatigue wore Josie down, but a tinge of excitement pushed her forward. What would a small wheat-farming town look like? This would be her home now, the place where her child would grow up. In the past weeks, Josie had grown restless, wanting to know everything about Willow Grove.
She stepped onto the soft, muddied ground, her boots sinking slightly as she took in her surroundings. Worn buildings lined the streets, and wooden planks created a boardwalk in front of them. For a moment, the town resembled Cheyenne, only smaller and more weathered. The buildings lacked paint, and only two wagons rolled by instead of the usual bustling traffic.
The second driver removed her bag from the top of the coach and dropped it down to her. The brown carpet bag was light, containing only what Aunt Tia could spare without suspicion. After taking her belongings, Josie brushed the dust from her linen burgundy skirt and button-down bodice, taking a moment to collect herself. The wind whistled and whipped her hair free from its pins. She sucked in yet another breath, closing her eyes as she tucked the loose strands beneath her bonnet.This is it, Josie. You’re home now. You’re safe. No one will find you here.
When she opened her eyes and lifted her chin, her heart paused. Squinting and shielding her face from the hot sun with her hand, she made out the figure of a man, standing under a sign that read “Post Office.” His gaze locked with hers, making Josie nearly forget to breathe. She remained frozen in the street, perhaps staring too long, but he kept his eyes locked on hers.
When he moved in her direction, Josie’s throat tightened, rendering her mute. She clutched her carpet bag handles, her grip increasing as the seconds ticked by.If this is Travis, I hope he is pleased.
A brown suit coat, with sleeves rolled to his elbows, fit snugly over a matching vest. A white shirt peeked out at the collar, along with an uneven tie. If this wasn’t Travis, then some poor wheat farmer had dressed foolishly for July.
The man paused in front of her and removed his hat, revealing his dark slick-back hair that stopped just below his ears. Sweat visibly glistened from his forehead.
“You must be Miss Callahan,” he said, extending his arm towards her. His low baritone voice carried a crisp edge.
Josie hesitated for a moment before shaking his hand.Goodness, Josie, don’t appear a fool.“And I gather you must be Mr. Blythe,” she said, taking his hand.
His grip was loose—too loose. His palm was clammy, but Josie forced a smile, determined to hide her discomfort.
“I hope your trip went well,” Travis remarked, pulling his hand away. He hid it behind his back, wiping his palm on his trousers.
“Tiring—but the sights were worth seeing.”
Travis opened his mouth to speak again but closed. He bit his lip and looked down at Josie’s bag. “Let me take that for you,” he offered, reaching forward.
“Oh, there’s no need.” She gripped the handle tight. “I can carry it.”
