“How many did you see? Were they tall and handsome?” The girl sighed dramatically.
Amelia scooped Poppy into her arms while they led the animals to the barn. She told Kat of some cowboys she’d crossed paths with as she traveled.
“Met the strangest ones on the stagecoach. Why, at one of the rest stations, a man lived in a shack not much bigger than your outhouse. And he was as friendly as a starving bear. You could smell him a fair way downwind.” She wrinkled her nose to illustrate. “But the stagecoach driver said there wasn’t a man around who treated the horses any better.”
Kat huffed. “Are you saying I stink?”
Amelia stopped and gawked at the girl. “How do you take that from what I said?” And then she saw how Kat struggled to hold back her mirth. She gave the girl a playful push. “You’re teasing.”
They laughed together as they took care of the horses, then returned to the house.
Pa stood at the window watching for them. At least he hadn’t wandered away.
Gil emerged from the bunkhouse, his hair slicked back, his whiskers brushed into place, and his clothes swapped for clean, albeit wrinkled ones. He didn’t return to the house but sat on the bunkhouse steps, his head in his hands.
That left Amelia to prepare supper. She had hoped she’d get the opportunity sooner rather than later and set to it as Pa sat at the kitchen table.
Kat and Poppy played a finger game. The little one was so easygoing, so accepting of strangers. It made life easier for all of them, but Amelia longed to give the sweet baby a secure home and surround her with people who loved her.
In her dreams, this was to be that place. The letters she believed Zach had written promised it. Her throat clogged with tears she would not shed, and she turned her attention to the kitchen, opening cupboards and looking into bins. Zach haddescribed this room. She paused and smiled as she recalled what he had said.
Ma always made the kitchen a place where we gathered as a family. Some of my fondest memories are sitting around the table, laughing and talking. Things changed after she passed.
The before picture was everything she dreamed of, planned for, and expected she’d have a hand in recreating.
Except for one detail. Zach was not the one who wrote her, nor was he the slightest bit welcoming.
Who had written those letters? Was that man waiting for her somewhere? But unless Zach had a twin brother with a life the same as Zach’s, the same name, the same everything…
It was almost laughable. Except for the predicament it left her in.
Was there a way she could sort this out and keep a roof over her head, for Poppy’s sake?
Chapter Three
It was almost dark as Zach made his weary way home. His stomach kissed his backbone. He was hungry enough to eat the bark off the trees he passed. He’d missed dinner in order to answer the urgent message that he was needed in town at someone’s request. And now he was set on missing supper. Those at home would have eaten a long time ago. Though with Gil drinking again, who knows if they’d get a proper meal? They might have had to scrounge for whatever they could find in the kitchen.
What he wouldn’t give for Gil to stay sober and cook a decent meal.
While he was wishing for the impossible, he might as well wish Kathy would turn into a sweet young gal, and Pa would be well enough to take back the responsibility of running the ranch. And Miss Pressly and her adorable baby hadn’t added to his responsibilities.
His stomach growled. If only Ma were alive. But he might as well wish for rain from the cloudless sky.
God in heaven, our land is suffering from lack of moisture. Could You please send some our way?
God didn’t always provide the answers a man sought. His ma would have said God had bigger, better plans, but Zach couldn’t see how that was possible. Without rain, the grass would wither, the cows would lose weight, and the weaker ones would die. How was he to take care of his family if he lost his livelihood?
The house came into view. A light flickered in the kitchen window. He rose in his stirrups and studied the place. One of his worries was that Pa might accidentally start a fire. He nudged his horse to a faster pace. The light focused on the table. Soon, he could make out a lamp. Had someone forgotten to put it out?
He dismounted at the house and threw open the door.
“Welcome back.”
He skidded to a halt at the cheery greeting. “Miss Pressly, what are you doing up?” A calming beat of his heart eased the tension in his ribs. “I half forgot you were here.” Truth being he’d done his best to push away thoughts of the young lady because he didn’t want to deal with another problem in his already troubled life. What was he supposed to do with her?
“First, let’s dispense with the formality. You’ve addressed me as Amelia in your letters.”
Before he could protest, she held up a hand. “Or at least I believed you did. So please, call me Amelia. And the reason I’m up is to wait for you.”
