It wasn’t Gil in the kitchen, but Zach.
He handed her a cup of fresh brew, and without any need for talk, they leaned against the cupboard and enjoyed peace and quiet before the day began. It was a wonderful way to start the morning, and the sense of shared satisfaction carried her through preparing breakfast. No need to ruin her pleasure by remembering that each day was one less she’d be in the kitchen.
They ate the meal, and Zach left. Gil came in and drank three cups of coffee.
“I’m fine now.”
Amelia didn’t point out the bloodshot eyes as she washed dishes.
Kat burst into the house. “Zach’s working with the mustang!”
He’d spent a bit of time most days with the horse, but something in Kat’s voice said this was more. Amelia hurried from the house in time to see Zach easing a saddle onto the animal’s back.
She caught up Poppy and raced to the corrals, Kat hard on her heels.
Panting, Amelia leaned against the fence.Please don’t get on that horse’s back.But she kept the words silent for fear of breaking Zach’s concentration.
Her lungs filled when he let the horse get used to the feel of the saddle.
Out of the corner of her eye, Amelia saw Pa join them. Zach noticed them lined up at the fence.
“There’s no danger.” He kept his voice soft so as not to alarm the horse. He turned his attention back to the animal.
Poppy wanted down, so Kat took her back to the house. Pa followed, and the three were soon playing.
Amelia stayed at the fence. Just in case. Not because she enjoyed watching Zach, and didn’t want to miss this opportunity.
But who would make sure he was all right when she left?
Who would enjoy the pleasure of watching him?
Would she find as much enjoyment in cooking, cleaning, watching, and talking with the Dakota farmer?
She pushed aside the thoughts.
Every day, she breathed in gratitude that there had not been another letter.
How long could she endure this torment?
Zach spenthis days with the men, seeking better pasture, fighting Sobel to allow the cattle to water, always on the lookout for anyone trying to cut out some of the Taggerty stock. At the end of each day, he rode homeward, his thoughts already at the house, on Amelia waiting for his return.
One night, he reined in and admitted how eager he was to see her smile. He couldn’t continue this way. The longer Amelia stayed, the harder it was to think of letting her go.
He stared out at the horizon, his hand brushing absentmindedly against his hat brim. She fit into his life so perfectly. Except that his life wasnotperfect. Not even close. It was wrought with trouble and uncertainty. Still, he rehearsed over and over words he wished he could speak. An invitation to stay, but much more—a permanent arrangement as man and wife. The very thing she’d come west expecting. But not from him. Who? Who had sent those letters?
The words he dared not speak churned beneath the surface, threatening the barriers he’d constructed. Every fleeting moment with Amelia only deepened the ache, yet he couldn’t bring himself to sever the fragile thread of hope tethering him to her. His excuse was waiting for the Dakota farmer to make his offer.
Pain shafted through his insides.
“How was your day?” Amelia stood nearby, her voice a gentle ripple in the quiet.
He didn’t recall dismounting or unsaddling his horse. But he stood in the barn, beside the animal, a curry brush in his hands. “About the same as always.” She already knew of the continuing drought and Sobel’s continuing harassment, so no need to remind her.
“The evening is cooling down.” The breeze coming through the open door stirred her hair, and tendrils caught the shafts of light from the dusty windows.
He hesitated, the weight of his confused feelings nearly unbearable. “Amelia,” he began, his voice rough, as if scraped raw by the truth he could no longer contain.
She turned to him, her eyes so steady he suspected she already knew what he was about to say.
