Chapter Nine
Amy tied her apron before crossing to the pantry, where neat rows of flour, dried beans, onions, and carefully labeled jars lined the shelves in quiet order.
A small cut of beef rested on the lowest shelf in an ice box beside a basket of potatoes, and every item sat exactly where it belonged, proving usefulness always came first in this house.
Her fingers brushed the edge of a shelf as she reached for the beef.
Every jar, basket, and sack was arranged with the kind of practical care that spoke of years of habit.
Nothing had been chosen to impress a visitor.
Everything served a purpose, and she doubted Caleb had changed much since returning.
It felt more like he'd stepped into the life Jonah had left behind than made one of his own.
She gathered the beef, potatoes, onions, and carrots before reaching for the flour, already planning another pot of stew with fresh biscuits.
It wasn't much different from the meals she'd made over the past week, but after the way Caleb had quietly finished her chores yesterday, she found herself hoping she could return the kindness with her slightly improved cooking skills.
If supper could spare him one worry at the end of a long day, then the effort would be worthwhile.
Her flour drifted into the mixing bowl as footsteps pounded across the porch. The back door flew open, and Maggie rushed straight toward her before wrapping both arms around Amy's waist. "I was looking for you! I thought you were with the chickens."
Amy brushed a curl away from the little girl's face. "You’ve found me now."
Maggie stayed where she was, leaning against her instead of hurrying off again. Amy rested a hand lightly on her back, quietly pleased that the little girl seemed more willing to seek her out than she had been only a few days ago.
Another pair of footsteps crossed the porch, and Noah stepped inside carrying an armful of firewood. He stacked the logs beside the stove, then placed the kindling within easy reach. "Caleb and Russ headed out before breakfast,” he told her as he brushed bark from his sleeves.
"They must've had an early start," Amy said as she reached for another potato. "I'm glad they didn't wake you."
Noah shrugged. "I was already up."
Amy smiled. "Then I could use some help."
Maggie's hand shot into the air. "I want to help, too!"
Amy handed Noah the potatoes and the knife instead.
He settled at the table and began the task with quiet confidence.
Amy watched him for a moment, wondering how much school he'd missed.
Life on the ranch had been turned upside down, and lessons had no doubt given way to more urgent needs, but it was something she and Caleb would have to talk about before long.
"Papa liked these cut the same size,” Noah declared.
"I'm happy to follow his rules."
A faint smile touched Noah's face before he began slicing neat, even pieces.
Amy turned toward Maggie. "I've saved the most important job for you," she mock-whispered to the girl.
Maggie's eyes grew round. "What is it?"
"I need someone with a sharp eye to choose the best carrots for me. Do you think you’re up to it?"
The little girl studied the basket as though every carrot deserved careful consideration. After a long inspection she lifted the most crooked one and carried it across the kitchen. "This one's smiling."
Amy accepted it with complete seriousness. "Then he'd better go into the stew."
Maggie beamed and hurried back for another inspection, explaining that straight carrots looked lonely while crooked ones always seemed cheerful.
The stew began to simmer while the biscuits rested beneath a towel. Noah worked through the potatoes without complaint, and Maggie wandered between the table and the basket, offering cheerful reports about every vegetable she inspected. Amy stirred the pot and let herself pause.
The room felt alive.
Back in St. Joseph, household chores had always seemed to exist just to fill the empty hours before the next obligation arrived. Here, every loaf of bread, every pot of stew, and every swept floor helped stitch together a household still learning how to become a family.
Noah broke the comfortable silence. "Papa always stole the first biscuit before supper."
Maggie giggled. "Then he'd say he was only testing them."
Amy smiled. "Did anyone believe him?"
"No," Noah said. "He did it every time."
Another laugh escaped Amy before she could stop it.
The sound filled the kitchen, warm and easy, and she realized she hadn't laughed this freely since Brook Hollow.
It brought her back to evenings in St. Joseph when she'd laughed beside her mother over supper.
She hadn't realized how much she'd missed the comfort of a kitchen filled with family until now.
Maggie wrinkled her nose. "Papa burned the porridge once. It turned black, and even the chickens wouldn’t eat it."
Amy smiled as she stirred the stew, listening while Noah and Maggie traded stories about their father.
She was surprised that the children spoke about their father so easily now.
The stories carried both smiles and sorrow, as though one could no longer exist without the other.
They laughed at his mistakes, argued over the details, and shared each tale as if he still walked among them. She hoped they always would.
The biscuits had only just gone into the oven when hoofbeats sounded outside. Maggie darted to the window, pressing both hands against the glass. "They're home!"
Amy brushed flour from her apron before smoothing her skirt. Her hands stilled when she noticed the gesture, leaving her to wonder why Caleb's return mattered enough to make her fuss over her appearance. The front door opened before she found an answer.
Boots clomped noisily across the entryway while Russ's voice drifted through the open door. "We'll start with the north fence tomorrow."
"Sure thing."
Caleb stepped into the kitchen and pulled off his hat. Dust clung to his boots. His sleeves bore faint streaks of dirt, and dark stubble shadowed his jaw. Weariness had settled across his face with an honesty no smile could disguise.
Amy's heart softened. The day had taken its toll, and tomorrow would ask the same of him all over again.
Maggie hurried across the room and caught his hand before he'd set his hat aside. "Come look. We helped make supper!"
Noah stayed where he was and didn’t add to Maggie’s plea, though the quick glance he stole toward the table gave away his hope for approval.
Caleb followed Maggie's eager tug. His gaze traveled across the room, taking in the steaming pot resting on the stove, the basket of fresh biscuits, and the table set neatly for supper.
Amy watched him closely. She'd spent the day hoping this meal might offer him a little comfort when he finally came through the door.
The thought embarrassed her now, though she couldn't bring herself to regret the effort.
"I thought we'd all eat together,” she murmured as his eyes met hers.
Caleb's eyes settled on the four places she'd arranged around the table. Silence stretched while he removed his gloves and turned them over in his hands before laying them beside his hat. "It looks wonderful."
The words caught her off guard. She'd spent days wondering whether she was helping enough, or simply finding ways to stay useful while she decided where she belonged. Hearing Caleb have a kind word about her efforts eased a doubt she’d carried far longer than she’d admitted, even to herself.
Then, his expression suddenly shifted. He glanced toward the hallway, and whatever peace he'd found seemed to slip away.
"Unfortunately..." His voice held an apology as he spoke. "I still have figures to finish."
Amy’s heart sank as dismay overcame her, but she did her best not to let it show. "Couldn't they wait until after supper?"
A weary smile touched his mouth, though it never reached his eyes. "I wish they could."
Something about his answer unsettled her. He sounded sincere, yet there was a resignation behind the words that made her wonder how long he'd been putting work ahead of everything else.
Maggie's fingers loosened around his hand.
The little girl's shoulders drooped, and the excitement that had sparkled across her face faded with heartbreaking speed.
Caleb seemed to notice it an instant later.
Regret flickered across his features, and he crouched beside her. "I'll eat once I'm finished."
Drawing a slow breath, Amy reached for the ladle.
"Let's eat before the biscuits get cold,” she said to the children.
Noah slid Maggie's bowl toward her without a word, giving his sister the first serving for a change.
Maggie tasted the stew, then looked up with bright surprise. "It tastes like Papa's!"
Amy froze with the ladle poised above Noah's bowl.
Of all the things she'd expected to hear, that wasn't one of them.
She'd spent the afternoon hoping the meal would fill hungry stomachs and give Caleb one less thing to worry about.
She'd never imagined it might stir a happy memory.
She paused, the ladle still hovering above Noah's bowl. "Does it?"
"It does, really!" Maggie sampled another spoonful, smiling into her bowl as though she'd discovered an old friend.
Noah took a bite before offering his own opinion. "Papa used more onions. But this is alright."
Amy filled her own bowl before setting a fourth beside the stove and covering it with a clean towel to keep the stew warm. She added two biscuits to a plate and wrapped them in another cloth, hoping they'd stay soft until Caleb finally came out of the office.
Only then did she take her own seat.
Her gaze drifted toward Caleb's empty chair before she caught herself.
She wished he was here to share the meal with all of them, but at least he'd have a hot supper waiting when his work was done.
The thought eased her disappointment enough for her to turn her attention back to Noah and Maggie as their conversation settled into its own gentle rhythm.
Maggie broke apart a biscuit and dipped it into her stew. "Papa always ate them this way."
Noah smiled into his bowl after watching her. "He whistled when he finished eating. He whistled while he fixed fences, too."
Amy rested her elbows on the table, content to listen. "Was he good at it?"
Noah's smile widened. "He scared off more birds than he did attract cows."
"I liked hearing him," Maggie declared. "Even when he sounded silly."
Amy couldn't help smiling. "He sounds like a man who filled the house."
"He did," Noah said, his voice quieter now. "You always knew where he was."
Amy welcomed each story they offered, asking a question whenever the conversation threatened to fade. Watching Noah and Maggie smile as they talked about their father, she realized they hadn't needed someone to steer them away from their grief. They'd needed someone willing to sit with it.
After supper, night settled across the ranch. Amy paused beside the window before heading upstairs. A narrow ribbon of light stretched beneath the office door where Caleb still worked inside.
She pictured him bent over columns of figures, chasing numbers that refused to cooperate while his supper waited in the kitchen, and the image tugged at her heart more than she expected.
She wished he'd joined them. He'd missed an evening that had felt wonderfully ordinary.
The children had trusted her with memories they guarded carefully, welcoming her into stories that belonged to their family long before she ever arrived in Wyoming.
The laughter she'd shared with Noah and Maggie stayed with her long after the dishes were washed.
They'd welcomed her into something precious, and she couldn't imagine walking away from it. She still didn’t know what Caleb wanted from the future, and perhaps he didn't know either.
Until he did, she couldn't build her hopes around him.
But Noah and Maggie were different. They needed someone to sit at the table, listen to their stories, celebrate their victories, and love them enough to stay when grief made the days difficult.
Amy drew a quiet breath. Whatever happened between her and Caleb, she wasn't ready to leave these children behind.