“Oh, Pa!” she screeched, leaping into his arms. He scooped her up, her embrace tightening around his neck. Travis’s heart swelled with joy—it had been far too long since he’d seen his daughter this happy. Ivy reached down, eagerly grabbing the bag, her small hands rummaging through the colors, examining each one with delight.
“Pa, there’s a rainbow!” Lillian shouted from the ground, looking upward with star-glazed eyes.
He placed Ivy on the ground. When he looked up, his breath caught as his gaze tangled with Josie’s.She was grinning, bouncing Gideon in her arms.Thank you,she mouthed to him. Gideon reached out a chubby hand toward Travis and Ivy, babbling in his baby language. Josie stepped closer, and Gideon squealed, the baby patting Travis’s arm.
“You can’t have these, Giddy,” Ivy giggled. “They are mine. You should ask for your own.” She looked towards Josie, and her smile didn’t waver. “Can you help me paint later, Josie?”
Josie nodded. “Of course.”
Travis sat at the table, watching as Josie and Jonas worked together, setting the plates. It took him a moment to realize theywere alone; Aunt Polly was nowhere in sight. Travis pushed the thought away and smiled, enjoying sitting with his family—the whole family.
Under the table, he gripped his pant fabric in his fists, fighting back his pain.Try just this once. For the children.Josie brought out the biscuits and gravy, placing them in the center of the table. She settled into the seat at the end, where Sophie once sat. It hit Travis like a blow to the gut. He chewed the inside of his cheek, desperate not to scream. Travis turned quickly to Ivy, who was smiling brightly. Was that smile of hers real, full of genuine gratitude for the paints, or was she like him, trying hard to appear strong for the sake of the family?
Josie reached out her hand to Lillian and the other to Jonas. “Would you like to say the prayer, Jonas?”
Jonas nodded eagerly, bobbing his head five times. As they all bowed their heads, Travis couldn’t help but squint, his eyes lingering on Josie. Gideon squirmed in her lap, his tiny fingers reaching for her hair.How long until this feels natural?
After the prayer ended, he stiffened in his chair. Travis desired for this marriage to work, but sitting together as one family, it felt like the utmost betrayal to Sophie. And not only that, his new wife was already sitting in Sophie’s seat.
Chapter Twelve
AttheFounder’sDaycelebration, melodic music from string instruments drifted down from the mercantile’s two-story balcony. The atmosphere reminded Josie of the good ole days, full of romantic balls complete with hoop-skirt gowns, suitors, and strawberry punch. Before the war, she attended them every weekend, sometimes visiting the same home twice in a row. Her family often traveled over twenty miles and stayed nearly a week with hosts.
Papa adored balls probably more than Mama did. He liked to socialize and play cards in the hosts’ parlor until the last dance. Then he’d join Mama for a waltz to her favorite tune. Josie would watch from the corner, refusing to entertain a suitor for the last song. She wanted to watch her parents and feel the warmth of their love from afar. That had been the life she envisioned when she learned she was betrothed to a handsome, older war hero.
Bumps prickled across her skin, despite the crisp, summer sunlight glowing on her back. The day before her first wedding,she learned Marcus’s name and put the pieces together. That man may have been a hero, but rumors circulated the county that he killed his own wife just two months earlier. However, it was never proven, and one of his former slaves was hanged for the murder. Marcus claimed that the girl poisoned his wife, but why would a sweet, young thing want to poison anyone, especially when Lincoln granted her freedom? Papa assured Josie it was all rumors, but on the wedding night . . . she was convinced it was true.
Josie closed her eyes, taking in deep breaths.Those days are behind you. Move forward.
“Josie?”
Josie opened her eyes, realizing she had frozen in the middle of the street with her pie in hand. Her cheeks flushed, seeing Caroline and Rose motioning her to the dessert table covered by a blue checkered tablecloth beside the mercantile. Josie straightened her posture and walked in their direction, moving through the sea of people. She adjusted the ringlets that fell loosely from beneath the flower crown Lillian and Ivy had made.
“Oh, how lovely it is to see you,” Rose said, embracing her. “For a moment I thought you were lost out there.”
Josie scratched the back of her neck. “Sorry. I’m just not used to crowds.”
Caroline chuckled, taking her pie. “We might not have as many people as Virginia City does, but we are close-knit.” She uncovered the pie and smiled. “This looks delicious, Josie.”
“Thank you.”
She observed the goods on the table—plates of cookies, cakes, pies, and cobblers. The aroma of vanilla, chocolate, cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg flowed through the warm Montana breeze. The icing on the cakes seemed a little runny from the heat, but the rest of the items appeared to be made with artistic care and pride.
Josie didn’t care much for the competition. She had never before entered a contest that required a servant’s skill, but she hoped to establish a good reputation that eliminated her proper upbringing. But what if the pie’s taste proved she wasn’t a baker like the women of Willow Grove? Had she measured the sugar correctly? What if the huckleberries were over-ripe? What if they were too sour? Her pulse raced as Caroline placed it next to other pies with lattice crusts and braided edges. Since Josie hadn’t baked in so long, she had forgotten how to make a pie crust that was dependable. This one flaked and the edges were slightly browner than the rest. She was hardly an expert at anything baking related.
“What did Alice make?” Josie asked.
“An apple turnover,” Caroline answered, arranging the desserts.
“Maybe it will stand up to your huckleberry cobbler,” Rose told Caroline. “I don’t think anyone can beat it—even if Alice has your talent.”
Caroline chuckled. “Oh, Rose, you flatter me so.”
Rose grinned. “What are friends for?”
The orchestra changed to an upbeat tune, and Reverend Levingston appeared out of the crowd, making his way to Rose. He bowed and extended his hand. “May I have this dance, Mrs. Levingston?”
Josie blinked twice. Reverend Levingston was a romantic?
