“Supper’s ready.” After rushing inside, she set the table, breathless from her hurry.
Not from Zach’s return.
He came indoors, carrying Poppy, with Kat and Pa following him. They gathered around the table.
“Anything new around here?” he asked as the food was passed from hand to hand.
Kat and Pa vied to tell him about the coyote that sat nearby one evening and watched them.
“Poppy thought it was a dog,” Kat said.
“Doggie. Want doggie.”
Amelia met Zach’s amused gaze across the table. Why did it feel like his presence rounded out her world? Especially whenher stay here was temporary. Of course, she had yet to hear from the Dakota farmer.
An approaching horse drew their attention. He went to the door.
Amelia’s neck tensed. Could it be Sobel again?
“I sent someone for the mail.”
At Zach’s announcement, her muscles twanged even more.
What news would be in the stack the cowboy carried? Would there be a message from the Dakota farmer? Surprise rippled through her to realize how long she’d been there. Surely it was too soon to expect a letter. Except, it was possible.
She followed Zach out of the house, tension creaking along her neck as a cowboy handed Zach a stack of mail. It appeared to be mostly newspapers. She stifled a snort. Perhaps one of them was theMatrimonial News.
Zach sorted through the stack. Paused to study one item. “It’s for you.”
She took the envelope, knowing it was from the farmer she’d written to. Her fingers clenched the missive. How could she have already received a reply? The man must have been standing in the office ofMatrimonial Newswhen her letter arrived. His eagerness should be a good sign. After all, didn’t she want to be that important to someone?
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Zach asked.
They were alone in front of the house, so there seemed no reason not to share the news with him… except her own hesitation. Sighing acceptance, she opened the letter and read aloud, “‘Dear Miss Pressly, you sound exactly like the sort of woman who would make a perfect helpmeet for me.’”
He went on to describe his home and his farm. She couldn’t explain why she read only parts of it aloud to Zach.
She finished reading it. “‘Please send me information about where you live and tell me more about yourself and the littlegirl. She is more than welcome. A good beginning to our family. Awaiting your reply, Jacob Wells.’”
“It sounds like what you want. A place like where you lived as a child.” Did Zach have to sound so pleased with the letter?
Amelia couldn’t speak. A farm. A man with a strong-sounding name. Wasn’t it what she wanted? And yet if Zach would offer one hint—no matter how small—that he wished for her to stay, she would write and tell Mr. Wells she’d changed her mind. But even his favorite cake, made from his ma’s recipe, hadn’t caused Zach to reconsider asking her to stay. Not even proving she could manage his house, and calm his father, did so. No amount of effort on her part had brought about a change of mind from him.
“You’ll want to write back immediately.” Zach’s words didn’t offer any hope.
“I’ll write this afternoon. Which reminds me. Tomorrow is Sunday. Will we go to church?” They hadn’t gone since her arrival.
“Sure. Then you could give your letter to Jarvis, and he’ll post it for you.”
Getting him to agree to go to church had been easy. Writing the letter, she discovered an hour later, was difficult. In the end, she answered Jacob Wells’s questions and did her best to anticipate hearing from him again.
The one thing she could write with complete honesty was:Your farm reminds me of the one where I lived as a child. I loved it.
She sealed the envelope and set it on her bedside table. Tomorrow would see it on its way.
Sunday morning,she prepared herself for church, set out Poppy’s best dress to put on her after she’d eaten, then descended to the kitchen with the little girl in her arms.
Pa sat at the table, waiting for coffee and breakfast.
