Page 28 of Mail-Order Lady

She looked away first, turning with her own plate to settle on the rock beside Mrs. Wang. He let his gaze follow. She was his wife, after all. Didn’t he get to observe her every so often? Especially when he’d restrained himself all day.

He couldn’t let himself moon too long though.

He sank onto the log and scooped up a bite of beans. It didn’t escape his notice that she’d placed herself far closer to Mrs. Wang than to him.

She’d been at his side on the wagon seat all day. Now she’d put a fire between them. He couldn’t tell if she was simply being practical—Mrs. Wang and the food were both on that side—or if she’d decided, after falling across his lap this afternoon, to make some kind of point with her actions that she wasn’t brave enough to make with words.

They ate mostly in silence except for a few comments about the trail they would travel tomorrow.

The usual night sounds filled the gaps as darkness crowded around the cocoon of light from the fire. In the distance, a wolf howled, too far to be trouble for them. Most likely. He never slept well on the trail, so he’d hear long before that pack became a threat.

At last, Mrs. Wang pushed to her feet, a groan slipping out, even though she likely tried to hold it back. He jumped up to help her, but she waved him away, even as she reached for his empty plate with her other hand.

He pulled it away. “I’ll wash dishes. You ladies settle in for the night. You can sleep in the wagon, and I’ll lay a bedroll by the fire.” At least there was no sign of rain tonight.

Mrs. Wang raised her brows at him, then waved him off once more. As she passed Clara on her way to the wagon, she pointed a finger at her. “You help with dishes.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but Mrs. Wang was already fading into the shadows. Instead he turned to Clara and reached for her plate. “I can wash them.”

Instead of handing it over, she pushed to her feet. “I’ll take care of these. I’m sure you have other things to do.” She gave him a small, uncertain smile that didn’t quite reach the rest of her face.

A wife, taking care of her husband. Or a woman trying not to be a burden.

He couldn’t quite tell which, and the not-knowing settled in his chest. One more thing he hadn’t been able to read about her today.

“Mrs. Wang said the two of us.” He kept his voice even.

Before Clara could refuse, he scooped up the kettle and his own plate from the log and waited.

She regarded him a moment. Then she gathered her dish and started toward the creek.

The path down to the water was short and uneven in the dark. He walked behind her, close enough to catch her elbow if she stumbled, far enough that he wouldn’t be touching her unless she did.

She didn’t stumble. The starlight caught the edge of her shawl as she walked ahead of him, outlining the elegance in the line of her shoulders. How did she manage to look so lovely while traveling through this wilderness?

The creek barely murmured, even when he crouched beside the water. He scrubbed at the inside of the kettle with a handful of sand the way Mrs. Wang had taught him when he was small.

Clara knelt beside him with the plates. She rinsed each one and wiped it dry with a cloth.

The cold dampness of the ground bit through the knees of his trousers.

“Robert.”

He looked up.

She was watching her hands. The plate she dried turned slowly between her fingers, the cloth moving over the tin in a circle.

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” She still didn’t look up. “For today.”

He set the pot down.

“For getting us out of Fort Benton.” Her voice was low enough that he had to lean in a little to catch it. “I couldn’t have stayed there. Not after this morning. I don’t think I could have spent another night in that hotel, knowing she was somewhere in the same town.”

His chest tightened. “You don’t need to thank me.”

“I do though.” She turned the plate over. “You looked at the situation, and you knew what to do. You didn’t ask me to decide. You just—” She shook her head. “You took care of it. The way you take care of everything.”