Chapter Nineteen
Amelia wasn’t entirely sure what she expected when she awoke the morning after her wedding day.
She was fairly certain that she would feel different; in fact, she was fairly certain that she should feel different.
It was the strangest thing: her last name had changed, and before God and man and the curious people of Gunnison, she was not altogether the same person that she had been yesterday, and yet she still awoke in her same bed, the same gray dawn outside, and the same food that would need cooking.
She scrubbed at her face for a moment, allowing herself the rare luxury of lying in bed for just a moment before rising and facing the day.
She held her hands out in front of her, wondering, perhaps a bit foolishly, if she would look different to the world.
A glint of silver on her left hand caught her eye—her wedding ring.
Ah hah! she thought. So, all is not the same after all.
Shaking her head and chuckling at herself, Amelia rose and dressed quickly in her normal work outfit.
She made her way to the kitchen and went through the usual routine of blacking and lighting the range, kneading the dough for the day’s bread.
Every so often, she would glance down at her left hand and stare at the ring on her finger.
She’d never given much thought to marriage, not after Dean.
It had been something out of her reach, an impossible dream.
She may as well have dreamed of going to the moon for all the likelihood of it happening.
If it did, she had been fully prepared for it to be a matter of convenience; poor farm girls from nowhere didn’t have the luxury of even fantasizing about a handsome prince on a horse coming to rescue them.
Still, she could have done worse, far worse, and she knew it.
To her great surprise and pleasure, there was a certain security about keeping her own home as a wife, not merely as a glorified governess.
When she served bacon and coffee to Cody, she caught herself staring at him, skillet and wooden spoon still in hand.
I’m serving breakfast to my husband. My husband is eating the food I made, she thought, the realization making her a little giddy. It was a lot to take in.
She was grateful when it was time for the children to be off to school.
She stood on the porch and waved after them as she always did, and they waved back at the gate to the ranch as they always did.
Instead of immediately turning and going back inside the house, Amelia stood for a moment on the porch, leaning her shoulder against one of the supports.
Did my mother ever wave me off like this?
Amelia wondered. She couldn’t recall. She closed her eyes and tried to conjure up the image of her mother but only got a vague impression of long hair and work-roughened hands.
Amelia’s brow creased. Though she was happy to step into the role of mother, she had no wish to fully replace their own mother.
I have to find ways to keep her memory alive, she resolved.
She was still deep in this thought when she returned to her chores.
While the large herd of beef cattle was the remit of the men of the ranch, the dairy cow was hers.
She’d already milked her this morning, but once the breakfast dishes were set to soaking, she made her way to the small cow shed and set to work mucking it out.
She didn’t mind the task, finding it easy and monotonous in a way that allowed her to think as she worked.
The cow, a Jersey with a velvety muzzle and a sweet disposition, was good company.
She was so deep in her thoughts that she didn’t hear Cody approaching until his silhouette was in the doorway. Startled, Amelia looked up and blinked at him.
“Oh!” she said. “Were you looking for me? I’m sorry, my mind was a million miles away.”
Cody hesitated at the door. “Just wanted to see how you were getting on, with… everything,” he said, shrugging vaguely with one shoulder.
Amelia paused her shoveling, putting the tines of the pitchfork on the ground and leaning on it. Cody had never come to check on her or to see how she was “getting on” with anything before. She tilted her head at him, trying to discern his meaning.
He was standing still, but there was a restlessness about him in the doorway. He had his hands in the pockets of his denim trousers again, and his eyes were intent on her. Amelia raised her chin a fraction of an inch as realization dawned. Ah, she thought. He’s worried I have regrets.
“I’m fine, thank you for inquiring,” she responded. “Not often we see you up at the house this time of morning.”
Cody bobbled his head around in agreement. “Herd’s out. Not much to see at this direct moment. Arthur’s taking the big wagon into town for a new tongue.”
Amelia snorted. “More like taking the opportunity to drive past the schoolhouse.”
“Y’think?” Cody asked sincerely. “I’d been wondering if he was sweet on Miss Monroe.”
“I don’t think there’s any need to speculate,” Amelia said with a smile, turning to resume her shoveling. “Pretty sure he’d tell you outright that he fancies her.”
Cody grunted in agreement. He lingered in the doorway, turning to observe the ranch. Amelia watched him from the corner of her eye, trying to figure out what it was that he was actually doing there.
Is he… is he trying to find a way to spend time with me?
“Since you’re here,” Amelia said aloud, “you could help me trim Cherry’s hooves. It’s easier with two.” Amelia nodded toward the dun-colored cow, who regarded them both placidly with large brown eyes.
“Sure,” Cody agreed readily. “I’ll go get my hoof knife.” He turned and hurried off toward the barn. Amelia bit her lip to keep from grinning.
While he was gone, Amelia slipped the halter on Cherry’s head and tied her off to the ring on the wall. Cody returned with the knife used for paring down cow and goat hooves. Amelia stood by Cherry’s head, speaking soothingly to her and petting her in hopes of keeping her still.
Cody lifted one of the cow’s hooves, which immediately tried to take a step. He grunted, and Amelia took her more firmly by the halter, but spoke gently to her.
“Now, take it easy, Miss Cherry,” she said, gently stroking the cow’s neck. Cody worked quickly and in silence for a moment while Amelia watched. “By the by,” she said conversationally, “I’ve been wondering something: why’s her name Cherry?”
“It’s not actually,” he said. “Bought her off a Frenchman who swore she gave the best milk for butter-making. He called her Chérie. Logan couldn’t quite manage it, so she’s been Cherry ever since.”
“Oh,” Amelia said, smiling at the cow. “I don’t know if I could’ve managed it, either. I fear I’ve no talent for languages.”
“My mother could speak some French, or so I’ve heard,” Cody said. “I think her mother might’ve been Canadian. Not entirely sure.”
Amelia could feel her eyebrows shoot up her forehead. He’d never mentioned his parents, except for his father in passing. Amelia’s petting on Cherry’s smooth coat slowed. “Did she… pass when you were young?”
Cody straightened, and he stared at the wall of the shed for a moment, but Amelia got the feeling that he wasn’t actually looking at it.
“Not sure,” he admitted finally. “She ran off when I was young, maybe about three or four.” Amelia inhaled sharply through her nose.
Cody glanced at her and then away again.
He ran his thumb absently over the edge of the paring knife.
“My pa said that she was restless. A man from China told him once that she had too much mountain air in her, whatever that meant.”
Cody bent and picked up another of Cherry’s hooves. “Whatever it was, she couldn’t sit still. Truthfully, I don’t think she was cut out for family life. She was just doin’ what everyone expected her to do.”
Humming in agreement, Amelia regarded Cody. “Where did she go?”
“I haven’t the slightest clue,” Cody said.
“Pa said she was always talking about adventure and wanting to explore. I like to think of her in some far-off land, discovering lost treasures. If she couldn’t be here with us, then she should at least be doing something grand.
” He stood up straight again, wiping his knife on the leg of his pants.
“You know how boys are—forgive anything for a good adventure story.”
“Don’t I know it,” Amelia said, thinking of Logan.
The boy was quiet and shy, but he’d snuggle right up to Amelia for the promise of a story involving pirates or knights.
She bit her lip. Though she knew well enough what it was to lose one’s parents, she couldn’t fully comprehend the pain of knowing that a parent had chosen to leave their child.
That had to cause lasting scars, she thought.
Cody went around the cow and began on her right forehoof. “You said you had a sister.”
“I did,” Amelia confirmed, brought back to the present. Cherry shifted again, and Amelia braced against the cow’s shoulder slightly.
“Always wondered what that was like, having a sibling,” Cody said, his voice a little strained as he was bent over. “Now, darn it, Cherry, stand straight-like.”
“It was grand,” Amelia said softly. “It was like having a best friend you’d always known. I can’t remember a time without her. That is,” she amended, “not until a couple of years ago.”
“Miss her?” Cody asked.
“I do,” Amelia said. “But… in some ways, it was almost a relief.” Guilt rubbed at her like sandpaper at that admission, but there was also a sense of a weight being lifted from her. “She was so miserable at the end that it seemed like a mercy. She wasn’t herself anymore.”
Cody grunted. “Pa was like that at the end. An apoplexy of some stripe took him, and then he couldn’t walk. He just started shrinking away. It was hard to watch. He wasn’t a man meant to be lying in some bed—he was born in a saddle, and I think he was hoping to die in one.”