Page 41 of Mail-Order Lady

Not the tree itself, exactly. The tree was only the marker. The fences would be close, and the ranch right after that. This terrain he knew like the inside of his own coat pocket. Every outbuilding, every fence line, every document in the study desk.

He knew which drawer stuck and which window latch needed lifting before it would turn. He knew which lanterns burned smoky and how far the well rope had to play out before the bucket struck water.

He checked behind them once more. No one.

The same as it had been all day. The dust that had been trailing them at half a mile back simply wasn’t there anymore.

He hadn’t stopped watching for it. But the trail had stayed clear all morning. Either the man had given up, or he’d found a faster route and was already ahead of them somewhere.

That second possibility kept his nerves clenched.

As they climbed the final hill leading to the house, the trees parted to reveal the clearing. The house rose into view, solid and two-storied against the pine-covered slope behind it. The windows flashed with late afternoon light.

He let out a long breath, then gave the team their heads.

The front door opened as Kate stepped onto the porch. She raised one hand to shield her eyes from the sun and pressed the other flat against her middle. She looked…fragile. Yet still Kate, with that determined set to her shoulders.

The moment she saw Clara on the wagon, her entire bearing changed. She dropped her hands to grip her skirts and started down the steps. Not a full-out run like she might have before. But a careful, quick walk.

Clara didn’t wait for him to halt the horses, just stood and climbed down, jumping the last step to the ground. She closed the distance faster than Kate, and the two met with equal force, arms wrapping around each other in a hold that became one person.

Robert halted the team and let himself watch the moment.

Kate had one hand around Clara’s waist and the other resting on the back of her hair as Clara laid her head on Kate’s shoulder.

He had watched them together for months and still couldn’t quite account for what happened when these two were in the same space. Something shifted in the air around them. The way Kate softened, as though she’d been holding herself against a wind that stopped. The way Clara’s shoulders came down a full inch the moment Kate’s arms closed around her.

The shorthand they had. The way one of them could start a sentence and the other would finish it without seeming to even know that’s what they did. The way a single motion at a supper table said take that one, not this one, a glance across a parlor that said I’ll tell you later, a silence between them that was louder than the conversation around them.

He climbed down and moved around to help Mrs. Wang. Thomas stepped from the house, and Enoch and James approached from the barn.

Mandie came around from the far side of the house a moment later, little Catherine on her hip. Rose followed with a basket of something, and they all gathered around Clara and Kate.

Robert turned to face Thomas, who’d reached him first.

“Brother.” Thomas clapped him on the shoulder with enough force to shift him sideways. “You look terrible.”

Just like Thomas. Robert only nodded. “Thank you.”

James halted at the horses’ heads. “I’ll see to the team.” He ran a hand along the nearest gelding’s neck and frowned slightly. “They’ve been pushed.”

“Yep.”

James eyed him, then glanced back at the animals. He didn’t ask yet. That would come soon.

Enoch halted before them, but didn’t say anything for a moment. Just looked at the wagon, at the horses, at the women still holding each other near the steps. “Trouble?”

“Some.”

Enoch’s gaze moved to him. “Come on then.” He tipped his head toward the barn. “Help us with the team.”

Inside, the smell of hay and horse and wood settled around him. He’d not even realized how much he missed this.

James had already begun unhitching the near gelding, and they all set to work, freeing the horses so they could give them the feed and care they’d been lacking since Fort Benton.

Nobody spoke at first. Just the sounds of leather working through rings and the horses shifting their weight and the low creak of the barn settling in the cooling afternoon air.

He was going to have to tell them. About the meetings with Margaret McKinney, of course, but then about what he’d done in response. What he and Clara had done.