Noah set the horses to their course and they pulled the wagon along the road.
When he drove the team over the rise that led down to his ranch, his face was raw from the force of the blowing snow and the sun was beginning to set behind the storm clouds. If it had been a nicer day, he would have taken pleasure in showing Maeve and the little one the view from the top of the rise. His land stretched out in all directions as far as the eye could see. At this time of year, only the tumbleweeds broke the whiteness on the ground, but in the spring tufts of green grass would dot the landscape.
His two-story house was nestled in a dip after the rise, making it close to the creek that ran through his property. Noah thought sometimes the land he’d chosen for his home was curved until it looked as if God was holding the house in His hands. Noah never mentioned his fanciful thinking to anyone, but he liked to walk up to the rise when he prayed in the mornings. He knew he had many blessings even if the love of a wife wasn’t one of them. Some distance from the house was a tall red barn with a long, squat bunkhouse built against its side. The ranch hands never had cause to complain about their quarters. Their long room was snug and homey with a fireplace at each end and chairs scattered around for sitting on a winter evening. Beds lined the walls.
The house itself was the jewel on his property. Windows faced in every direction, each one of them gleaming despite the frost curling around the edges of the glass. He’d had to send back East for the beveled windows in the main door. A wide porch wrapped around the front part of the house and, in the summer, bright red geranium plants were scattered around in clay pots.
Suddenly, Noah frowned. What looked like a sheet was blowing from one of the upstairs windows. Then he noticed that the door to the bunkhouse had opened and a stream of ranch hands was spilling out. They stood a moment, watching the wagon as Noah guided it down the road. Dakota was in the lead, waving his hat as the men started to walk closer.
Noah didn’t know whether to warn Maeve that they were being welcomed or try to figure out a hand signal that would convince the ranch hands to go back inside and pretend they hadn’t noticed them coming home.
Finally, it was too late to do either.
Maeve had lifted her head out of the blankets and was looking straight ahead.
“Is someone doing the wash?” she asked, puzzled. “Isn’t it too cold for anything to dry?”
“It’s not laundry,” he said and hesitated a few seconds before adding. “It’s hung there to celebrate our wedding.”
“But we didn’t get married,” she protested, looking over at him in surprise. “Oh, of course, your men don’t know that, do they?”
He shrugged as he looked into her green eyes. The shadows made them dark, but he noticed they had some sparks to them that they hadn’t before. The woman was not hiding her feelings from him as much as she had earlier.
“They mean well,” he said, smiling at her. “And, if I’m not mistaken, they’ve already told everyone from miles around that we were getting married today. They’ve been waiting since I got your letter. But it doesn’t matter. I’ll explain it to them and they’ll spread the word that it didn’t happen.”
Maeve looked away from him then and his throat tightened. She was upset that they had not gone through with their vows. If he didn’t believe she’d feel differently in a couple of days, he would have turned the wagon around and headed back to the church.
But he couldn’t live with a woman who felt trapped in a marriage to him. His wife’s unhappiness had left them both miserable.
Just then, his men came up close to the wagon. They were all noisy, grinning and carrying their rifles. No doubt they intended to fire off a volley in honor of the occasion. Noah stopped the horses and held up his arm. He wouldn’t be surprised if Dakota had organized all of this; that man was determined to give up his cooking duties.
The crew looked at Noah expectantly.
“We’re not married yet,” he explained as he surveyed the ranch hands. “I felt it was only right to give her a chance to see what she’s in for before she goes through with it. In the meantime, I know you’ll honor Maeve as if she were my wife.”
“Maeve?” one of the men in front of him asked as he tilted his head. “Isn’t that Irish?”
“You can call her Mrs. Flanagan for the time being,” Noah replied. Some of the men had hard feelings against the Irish after a brawl with some soldiers from nearby Fort Keogh. “She and her daughter, Violet, are my guests. Now let me get this wagon up by the porch. You can help carry everything inside before the storm gets any worse.”
He started the horses forward.
“Is she going to cook for us in the morning?” Dakota called after them. “I mean, since she didn’t marry you?”
Noah reined in the horses and looked over at Maeve. She had pushed more of the blankets back so she could see what was happening. Her green eyes were sleepy. Her hair tousled. He didn’t need to ask to know she was exhausted.
“Dakota can fry eggs in the morning,” Noah said. “Same as usual.”
That was enough to make all of the men turn to stare at him.
“But he burnt them last time,” one of his men reminded Noah, although he didn’t do it loudly. “I almost couldn’t eat mine. And you know me. I eat anything.”
“I was looking forward to a biscuit,” a younger cowboy complained, as well. “How hard can that be to make?”
Dakota bristled at this and turned to the younger man. “I’d like to see you try to make some.”
They hadn’t had bread of any kind for months. The last batch of biscuits Dakota had made had been hard as stones. No one could eat them. Noah had finally ordered the man to stop even trying so they wouldn’t keep wasting flour. He wasn’t sure if Dakota was relieved or still held a grudge over the incident.
“The woman deserves a rest,” Noah said. And he intended to see that she had one.
He wasn’t sure what decision he and Maeve were going to make about the marriage, but he did believe she was a decent woman who had been overcome by trouble. Whether she wanted to marry him or not, he meant to see that she got a new start in life.
“I’ll get up early anyway,” Maeve said with a yawn and then sat up straighter on the wagon bench. “I always do.”
Noah didn’t answer as he pulled the horses to a halt in front of the house. For however long Maeve and her daughter were with him, he wanted them to be welcome.
“You’re entitled to stay in bed in the morning,” he said firmly. “You’ve had a long trip here. And treat my place like your home. Don’t let the ranch hands convince you to get up and cook for them.”
Maeve looked at him, speechless, and then smiled before turning to wake up her daughter.
“I can carry her in,” Noah said as he started to climb down off his wagon. “I’ll come around.”
His men had walked up to the back of the wagon and were starting to unload the supplies.
Noah hurried to the other side of the wagon and held out his arms for the girl. He had moved most of his clothes out of the bedroom yesterday and put them in the room at the end of the bunkhouse. The woman and her child would be comfortable in the house. His room shared a wall with the parlor fireplace so it was the warmest place in his house, except for the kitchen.
He could hear Violet murmuring as her mother gathered her up. The girl was likely still half-asleep. Noah’s hat was knocked off by the wind and it fell into the back of the wagon. He left it there since the woman was ready to set the girl in his arms. For a moment, he let her weight settle. He was surprised at the contentment he felt holding her. He’d never had a child on his ranch before, not one he could lay claim to as his