Colorado Courtship. Cheryl St.John

of coffee. Hot tea for Tessa. The walnut and oatmeal sandwich cookies held a layer of date filling.

      “There wasn’t anything this tasty at the luncheon today,” Ben Charles said. “You go to a lot of work for us.”

      “I could make these in my sleep,” she said. “At the bakery I made hundreds at a time. Even a dozen seems like a lot for us. The extras will be in the pantry.”

      “Not for long,” Ben Charles said, reaching for another.

      The dining room was on the side of the house against the funeral home, so there were no windows. Violet was surprised when she returned to the kitchen to hear the wind howling against the door and window. She peered out to discover a flurry of swirling white flakes obscuring the backyard and the stable.

      “I grabbed the cloths that were in a heap in the yard,” Ben Charles said from behind her.

      “Oh, thank you. I’m afraid I dropped it when the moose startled me.”

      “Henry thinks he’s moved on. The animal must have sensed the storm coming and come foraging.”

      “I never knew a moose was so large!”

      “That’s why I cautioned you to be alert.”

      “I’d have run from that fellow even without forewarning.”

      Tessa helped her with the dishes, while Ben Charles went next door.

      That evening Violet selected a book and sat with Tessa in her upstairs getaway. Later the hallway grew chilly, so they decided to move to their rooms where they could stoke their fireplaces.

      Alone in her room with the wind battering the window, Violet was thankful for her job and for a warm place to sleep at night. This home was built of brick, and inside they were safe from the elements. She was comfortable here, and the Hammonds treated her well. Church and Ben Charles’s prayers were new to her, but he and Tessa set great store by God, and Violet had no evidence they were wrong.

      At a tap on her door she stood from her chair, with her shawl wrapped around her, and opened it.

      Ben Charles stood in the hallway, holding an armful of logs. “I’m sorry to disturb you. I’m afraid I got busy, but I wanted to make sure you had enough wood to last the night.”

      She took a step back. “Thank you. I’m keeping quite warm, thank you.”

      He placed the wood in the bin beside the fireplace and brushed bits of bark from his sleeve, then picked them up and tossed them into the fire. After striding back to the door, he turned momentarily. “Sleep well.”

      She closed the door behind him and listened to his footsteps move away down the hallway. A feeling of well-being akin to nothing she’d ever experienced washed over her.

      She wasn’t sure how she knew it, but she belonged here.