Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Over the following days, Amelia found herself growing more attuned to the small rhythms of their days.
Pa’s occasional wandering became a call for her to distract him with a favorite tune or an old story, and Poppy’s infectious laughter brightened even the most mundane moments.
The quiet evenings brought a kind of solace as she listened for the clomp of hooves signaling Zach’s return.
Although observing him come to the house, greeting him with a smile, watching him interact with Poppy, Kat, and Pa, brushed the edges of her disappointed soul, it didn’t fill the emptiness inside.
Daily, she reminded herself to take the life she’d been offered and enjoy it even if it was only temporary.
Often, after supper, they walked together, usually to his ma’s flower patch.
As days passed with no rain, many of the flowers withered and died.
She and Zach kept their conversation to mundane things.
What Poppy had said or done that made them smile.
How Kat had been eyeing the mustang again, and how that worried them both. How Pa’s day had gone.
Inside, she felt like those flowers. Drying up and dying for want of things she must deny herself.
Tomorrow was Sunday. “Are you going to go to church?” she asked Zach on their customary evening walk.
“If Pa seems settled in the morning.”
The next morning, she helped Gil prepare breakfast. The man kept looking out the window. Twice, he opened a cupboard needlessly, likely searching for a bottle.
When Zach came in, Gil said, “Boss, I thought I’d ride over and visit my old friend, Buster, if you don’t mind.”
Zach studied Gil. “I wish your old friend didn’t have alcohol to offer you.”
Gil shrugged. “Ain’t seen him in a long time. A man can’t work all the time.”
Zach nodded. “You deserve your days off.”
“Thanks, Boss.” Gil was suddenly laughing and moving at a pace Amelia had never before seen. He hurried them through breakfast and left Amelia with her hands in soapy water washing dishes.
She watched from the window. Zach spoke to him before he rode away.
“Do you think he’ll be back?” she asked when Zach returned to the house.
“He’ll be back, but I don’t know what condition he’ll be in.” He nodded to the clock behind the table. “I’ll get the wagon. Is everyone about ready?”
Pa descended the stairs, his suit coat buttoned crookedly, his hair slicked back with an abundance of oil.
“We’ll be ready.” She went to Pa. “Don’t you look nice?” She adjusted his buttons and wiped his hair with a towel.
They were soon on their way, Poppy between Pa and Kat in the back, Amelia beside Zach on the seat. How many more trips like this would she enjoy?
Not nearly enough.
She did not like the answer.
This time, they were ready when they arrived in town and hurried into the church with Pa between them.
Mrs. Stone paused to speak to them. She greeted Pa warmly, then turned to Amelia. “And how are you liking the ranch?”
“Very much, thank you.”
“You don’t find it too much work?”
“Goodness, no. I enjoy every minute of it.” She hoped Zach was listening and taking the words to heart.
“That’s wonderful to hear. Isn’t it, Zach?”
“Indeed.”
Well, he might have sounded happier about it.
“I heard you had a letter from the Matrimonial News. No more correspondence?” She patted Amelia’s hand as if to suggest kindliness had her aware of Amelia’s private business, a gesture that did nothing to ease Amelia’s shock at hearing the woman’s interest.
Her husband moved to greet them in time to hear his wife’s question. “The mail is private.” His words carried his own shock.
“It’s a small town.” But at her husband’s frown, she sighed and turned around. Then she glanced over her shoulder at Amelia. “Seems to me if a man was interested, he would write back posthaste.”
Mr. Stone gripped her elbow and led her to the front.
Zach leaned close to whisper. “That is so unlike Mrs. Stone. She’s the last person I’d ever expect to put her nose into someone else’s business.”
Amelia nodded, grateful there was no need to answer as they were in church and others were taking their seats.
But she couldn’t think past the woman’s words.
What if Jacob Wells had found something in her letters that he didn’t like?
What if he didn’t want to pursue correspondence with her? What would happen to her and Poppy?
A bubble of anticipation pressed against her ribs. Wouldn’t Zach then have to keep her?
The bubble burst. She didn’t want someone to “have to keep her.”
What did she want?
Security for Poppy, though the argument felt watery and weak.
Buried deep in her heart, covered with many protective layers, lived the desire for love.
Love such as she’d known with her parents.
Even more, the kind of love she’d seen exhibited between them.
So many times she’d watched Ma’s face glow as if lit by an inner candle, and it was always when Pa entered a room.
Just as many times, she observed Pa’s warm smile as he leaned over to give Ma a quick kiss.
Amelia had been secure in their love for each other.
That was what she wanted to give Poppy. Could she give security without love?
Or would she learn to love Jacob? He sounded like a decent man. A farmer like her father.
To divert herself, she surveyed others in the sanctuary.
She’d mentioned to Zach how pleased she was to see some couples and two with young children.
It spoke well for a growing community. Zach said all four of the wives she mentioned had come in on the stagecoach seeking a groom, which made her choke back a giggle before she said, “Maybe they should call it ‘the stagecoach to wedded bliss.’”
Pastor Stone rose, bringing her attention back to the present. The pastor welcomed everyone and announced the first hymn. Amelia shared a hymnal with Zach. Pa sat between them with Poppy and Kat on Amelia’s other side. She loved singing with Zach. Their voices blended perfectly.
He smiled at her as if he enjoyed singing together as much as she.
Hardly reason enough for him to ask her to stay.
She kept her focus on the hymnal for the next three songs and straight ahead to the preacher as he opened his Bible.
“Over and over, the great men of God we read about here”—he tapped his Bible—“faced great trials. Often, they failed to do what they should. They did foolish things. But through it all, they learned that God is faithful.” As he delivered the rest of his message, Amelia breathed in encouragement to face her own challenges. Wherever He led, she would trust Him.
They didn’t linger after the service, knowing Pa needed to be home in his familiar surroundings.
It was easy to be committed to the words from the pulpit the rest of Sunday as Zach stayed near the house playing with Poppy and Kat.
Amelia saw how Kat enjoyed attention from her big brother.
Other times, Zach sat beside his pa and talked about the cows.
Occasionally, Pa followed the conversation and made wise comments.
But he didn’t seem to comprehend most of what was said.
They were seated around the table for supper when Gil rode in, singing loudly, his condition apparent in his slurred words.
Kat and Poppy wore tight expressions.
“It’s all right,” Zach said. “He’ll go to the bunkhouse.”
Gil wouldn’t make breakfast the next morning, which suited Amelia fine. She loved cooking for the family and had done so since she’d arrived, though Gil helped when he was able. It was a pleasure she would grasp as often as she could in the remaining days.
A spasm gripped her stomach. One that had nothing to do with anything she’d eaten.
When she rose Monday morning, she smelled coffee and hurried down the stairs, leaving Poppy asleep. The child knew enough to come down on her own when she awakened.
It wasn’t Gil in the kitchen, but Zach.
He handed her a cup of fresh brew, and without any need for talk, they leaned against the cupboard and enjoyed peace and quiet before the day began.
It was a wonderful way to start the morning, and the sense of shared satisfaction carried her through preparing breakfast. No need to ruin her pleasure by remembering that each day was one less she’d be in the kitchen.
They ate the meal, and Zach left. Gil came in and drank three cups of coffee.
“I’m fine now.”
Amelia didn’t point out the bloodshot eyes as she washed dishes.
Kat burst into the house. “Zach’s working with the mustang!”
He’d spent a bit of time most days with the horse, but something in Kat’s voice said this was more. Amelia hurried from the house in time to see Zach easing a saddle onto the animal’s back.
She caught up Poppy and raced to the corrals, Kat hard on her heels.
Panting, Amelia leaned against the fence. Please don’t get on that horse’s back. But she kept the words silent for fear of breaking Zach’s concentration.
Her lungs filled when he let the horse get used to the feel of the saddle.
Out of the corner of her eye, Amelia saw Pa join them. Zach noticed them lined up at the fence.
“There’s no danger.” He kept his voice soft so as not to alarm the horse. He turned his attention back to the animal.
Poppy wanted down, so Kat took her back to the house. Pa followed, and the three were soon playing.
Amelia stayed at the fence. Just in case. Not because she enjoyed watching Zach, and didn’t want to miss this opportunity.
But who would make sure he was all right when she left?
Who would enjoy the pleasure of watching him?
Would she find as much enjoyment in cooking, cleaning, watching, and talking with the Dakota farmer?
She pushed aside the thoughts.
Every day, she breathed in gratitude that there had not been another letter.
How long could she endure this torment?
Zach spent his days with the men, seeking better pasture, fighting Sobel to allow the cattle to water, always on the lookout for anyone trying to cut out some of the Taggerty stock. At the end of each day, he rode homeward, his thoughts already at the house, on Amelia waiting for his return.
One night, he reined in and admitted how eager he was to see her smile. He couldn’t continue this way. The longer Amelia stayed, the harder it was to think of letting her go.
He stared out at the horizon, his hand brushing absentmindedly against his hat brim.
She fit into his life so perfectly. Except that his life was not perfect.
Not even close. It was wrought with trouble and uncertainty.
Still, he rehearsed over and over words he wished he could speak.
An invitation to stay, but much more—a permanent arrangement as man and wife.
The very thing she’d come west expecting.
But not from him. Who? Who had sent those letters?
The words he dared not speak churned beneath the surface, threatening the barriers he’d constructed.
Every fleeting moment with Amelia only deepened the ache, yet he couldn’t bring himself to sever the fragile thread of hope tethering him to her.
His excuse was waiting for the Dakota farmer to make his offer.
Pain shafted through his insides.
“How was your day?” Amelia stood nearby, her voice a gentle ripple in the quiet.
He didn’t recall dismounting or unsaddling his horse. But he stood in the barn, beside the animal, a curry brush in his hands. “About the same as always.” She already knew of the continuing drought and Sobel’s continuing harassment, so no need to remind her.
“The evening is cooling down.” The breeze coming through the open door stirred her hair, and tendrils caught the shafts of light from the dusty windows.
He hesitated, the weight of his confused feelings nearly unbearable. “Amelia,” he began, his voice rough, as if scraped raw by the truth he could no longer contain.
She turned to him, her eyes so steady he suspected she already knew what he was about to say.
But then he stopped. Not because the words weren’t there, but because the fear of what they might mean was too vast, too consuming. He shook his head slightly, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “Never mind,” he muttered. “It’s nothing.”
She studied him, her expression unreadable, before offering a small smile. “Sometimes, it helps to share the nothing.” There was a glimmer in her tone—an invitation, perhaps, or a reminder that she was still there, willing to listen, even when he couldn’t find the courage to speak.
Side by side, they left the barn. The few inches between them both a comfort and a torment. Zach wrestled with his thoughts as every step forward brought them closer to the moment he’d have to decide—hold on or let go.
They were almost at the porch. Amelia paused, turning to face him, her expression soft but searching. “Zach? Whatever it is you’re holding back… I hope you find a way to let it go. Maybe not tonight or even tomorrow, but someday.”
Her words settled over him like a balm and a burden all at once. He nodded, unable to trust his voice.
As she went indoors, he remained rooted to the spot, the import of her words sinking deep into his chest. He tipped his hat back, gazing up at the boundless sky. Just how could he find the courage to gracefully let her go?
He could pack his things and stay at camp with the hired hands. But that would leave Amelia to cope with everything on her own, and wasn’t his desire to protect her from that his reason for not asking her to stay?
With a groan, he reached for the door handle.
She laughed at something Poppy said. As he stepped across the threshold, he took in the scene.
Pa sat at the table endlessly turning the pages of the book before him, his lips moving with words that had nothing to do with the reading material.
Kat wasn’t there. She hadn’t done anything foolish for days that he was aware of.
Would Amelia inform him if she did? Or would she think to protect him and his little sister by not mentioning it?
He should have checked on the mustang before he came to the house.
Should have counted the horses to be sure Kat hadn’t ridden off.
His resolve returned.
It would be selfish to ask Amelia to stay. The Dakota farmer was the best man for her.