Chapter Seven
The church bell’s finalchime lingered as Elaina stepped outside into the crisp autumn air. The fabric of her Sunday dress brushed against her ankles as she navigated through the dispersing congregation, her green eyes seeking the familiar form of her husband.
“Steven,” she called out gently, once she had found him speaking with some of the townsmen by the hitching post.
He turned at the sound of her voice. “Elaina, everything all right?” Steven asked, excusing himself from the other men with a courteous nod.
“Can we walk a while?” Her words were soft but deliberate, and he immediately gave her his full attention.
They strolled, side by side, down the dirt path that led away from the churchyard.
“Steven, there’s something you need to know,” Elaina began, her fingers worrying the hem of her sleeve. “I’ve been wanting to tell you all week, but I needed to be sure.”
He stopped walking, turning to face her fully, his expression open and attentive.
“I’m expecting,” she said. “We’re going to have a baby.”
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to pause. Then, Steven’s face broke into a wide, unabashed grin—the kind of smile that could only be described as youthful joy etched onto the rugged landscape of a man’s face.
“Elaina, that is...that’s wonderful news!” His hands reached for hers, engulfing them in warmth. “You are going to be an incredible mother.”
Her heart swelled, but with it came a tide of protective instincts. “I want to—no, I need to step back from the ranch work, Steven. With the baby...I can’t risk it. I worry I’ll get kicked or have a bad fall and lose the baby.”
He nodded. “Of course, you’re right. You shouldn’t be out there with the men, not now.” He tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. “From now on, your job is inside, taking care of yourself and our little one. I’ll handle everything outside with the crew.”
“Are you sure? Can the ranch run without both of us out there?” Doubt edged her words.
“Elaina,” he said, his voice low and steady, “the ranch will survive. But you and our child are my priority. We’re a team, and right now, this is how we protect our future—all three of us.”
She studied his face and felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. This man, who had come from so far to stand beside her, now promised to shoulder the weight of their shared dream.
“Thank you, Steven,” she whispered, allowing herself to lean into his strength for just a moment. It would be hard for her to let him take on the added duties, but their baby needed to be her first concern.
*****
ELAINA’S FINGERS SIFTEDthrough the flour, a fine dusting settling on the kitchen table like the first whisper of snow. The morning sun filtered through the window, casting a warm glow on Cynthia’s patient smile as she guided Elaina’s hands through the motions of kneading the dough.
“Like this,” Cynthia encouraged, her voice a gentle melody against the rhythmic thud of dough on wood. “You’ll feel it become ready under your palms.”
Elaina tried to mimic her friend’s expertise, her brow furrowed in concentration. They had started at dawn and now the clock hands pointed accusingly toward late afternoon.
“Maybe we should’ve started with something simpler,” Elaina sighed, wiping a strand of strawberry blonde hair from her face with the back of her flour-dusted hand.
Cynthia chuckled, shaking her head. “Bread is simple, once you get the hang of it. And besides, Steven will love it because you made it.”
Elaina wanted so desperately to master these domestic arts, to fill their home with the kind of comfort and nourishment she imagined a wife should provide.
By the time Steven’s shadow darkened the doorway, the kitchen was a battlefield of culinary mishaps. Loaves lay slumped on cooling racks, their crusts too hard or innards too doughy. Elaina’s apron was smeared with evidence of her efforts, and the chickens outside clucked contentedly, well-fed on her failures.
Steven paused at the sight of her, his eyes searching hers as he took in the scene. He removed his hat as he studied the scene, scratching his head in confusion.
“Elaina, what’s all this?” His voice held a hint of bewildered amusement.
She couldn’t hold back the tears that sprang forth, drops of frustration and disappointment that she hastily tried to hide. “I wanted to learn to cook...for you. But everything’s been a disaster. I can’t seem to do anything right in this kitchen.”
Steven crossed the room in a few long strides, enveloping her in his arms. He drew her close, his embrace a fortress against her self-doubt.
“Hey now,” he whispered. “You don’t have to be perfect at everything. You’re learning, and that’s what matters. We’ve got a lifetime for you to try again.”
