His Secondhand Wife. Cheryl St.John

looking ahead. She hadn’t had time to absorb all that was happening and still felt a little numb. She was sure reality would catch up with her later.

      Finally, Noah Cutter climbed up beside her and took up the reins in hands sheathed by tanned leather gloves.

      “How far is Copper Creek?” she asked.

      “’Bout a day and a half’s ride west.”

      “You mean, we’ll be traveling all night?”

      “We’ll camp to rest the horses.”

      She nodded and prepared herself for the journey and the new experience. Her stomach felt a little queasy now that she was going through with this. “I’ve lived my whole life in Boulder.”

      He didn’t respond, so she took her last look at the city she detested, thought of all the miners’and well-to-do residents’ clothing she’d washed and ironed over the years, and said a silent good riddance.

      Even if she had to do laundry for this man and his family for the rest of her years, it would be less of a burden than scraping out an existence on her own. “Tell me about your home.”

      “Run several thousand head on the Rockin’ C. Good water and grazing.”

      “What about the house?”

      “My father built it. Two stories, a front porch. The hands eat in a separate building.”

      “Do you have a family there?”

      “Levi was my family.”

      No wife or children? “Where will I stay?”

      “Four rooms upstairs, one is mine. You can have one on the opposite end.”

      “I will work for my keep, I was serious about that.”

      She felt his gaze on her, as though he was sizing her up for her usefulness. She glanced toward him, but he looked away, hair and hat brim once again shading his face.

      “Is the Rockin’ C where Levi grew up?”

      He nodded.

      “He never told me much about his family. I never knew where he was from. Does your father know about…about what happened to Levi yet?”

      “My father’s dead.”

      “Your mother?” she ventured.

      “Mother, too. Wired Levi’s mother. She’ll be ex-pectin’ us.”

      “You and Levi had different mothers?”

      He nodded again.

      Kate studied the countryside, weary of pulling information from the taciturn man. There was snow on the mountain peaks, but the conifers blanketing the lower regions were a dozen shades of vivid green. A craggy range blanketed in white caught her attention and she pointed. “Look how much snow is left.”

      “Indian Peaks,” he replied.

      They crossed a river at a shallow spot where farther down, it fed into a wide lake. “Oh, it’s so pretty. It’s turquoise.”

      He squinted toward the lake she indicated without comment and guided the team up the bank.

      Noah followed a rutted trail that cut around rock formations every so often.

      “The rocks are so big! You can almost imagine that the shapes are animals or faces, can’t you?” Kate studied the enormous jutting stones. “Have you ever seen anything equal to them?”

      He glanced at her, then away.

      She straightened her skirt primly. “You’re thinking I’ve lived in Boulder all these years and never seen much of anything. It’s a shame, isn’t it? I always wanted to travel, to see all the sights and the country beyond the city. Levi was going to take me after—well, he was going to take me. Have you traveled many places?”

      “Not many.”

      She’d never traveled farther than the streets of the city where she was born until yesterday. “Have you been in other states?”

      He nodded.

      “Where? Have you seen the ocean?”

      “I’ve been to Texas and back. Seen Nebraska and Kansas.”

      “I’d love to see the ocean. I’ve read about it and I’ve seen paintings. I saw an exhibit once. An artist from Maine had a show and gave all the girls at the laundry a ticket to go see her work. Lovely pastel colors they were, blues and greens and lavenders. Pinks, too. It would be ever so lovely to be able to paint like that, don’t you think?”

      He shrugged as though he’d never thought about it.

      The sun dipped low and the air took a chill. Kate pulled on her coat and fell silent.

      Eventually, Noah led the wagon toward a stand of cottonwoods that lined a streambed and brought it to a halt.

      Kate studied her surroundings. “Is this where we’re spending the night?”

      With a grunt, he climbed down.

      She stood, her muscles stiff from the long ride on the hard seat, and he came around to help her. She studied the top of his hat, the expanse of shoulders in that coat, and accepted the gloved hand he raised. “Oh, oh my. Oh, dear.” Her feet touched the ground and her hips and back complained. “Where shall I—um?”

      He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the shrubs and trees along the stream.

      “Oh. Thank you. I’ll be right back.”

      Noah glimpsed her limping toward the stream and unharnessed the team. He’d never known a person could talk so much. Katherine had barely paused for breath since they’d left Boulder. Not that he minded. As long as she didn’t expect him to keep up one side of the conversation, she could talk herself hoarse if she chose. And she might, if today had been any indication.

      He untied his gray and led all three animals to the stream to drink. Once they’d had their fill, he tethered them where they could crop grass. From his saddlebags, he took a dented coffeepot and fixins for a meal.

      The young woman returned and removed her bonnet. “What can I do?”

      He gestured to the pot. “Need water.”

      She picked up the container. “I’ll be right back.”

      He watched her leave. Of course she’d be right back—where else would she go? He found a dry limb, broke it up and, with sticks for kindling, got a fire started.

      Kate returned with the pot. “Do you have a tent?”

      “No.”

      “Are we going to sleep out in the open, then? That will be an adventure. Once when I was small, Mama and I didn’t have a place to stay for a few weeks and we slept under a broken wagon behind the stables. It didn’t rain, but it did get cold at night. I remember looking up and seeing all the stars. I’m sure we’ll be able to see even more of the sky out here so far from buildings.”

      Noah sliced salt pork into the skillet and let it sizzle before prying open a can of beans with his knife.

      “Do you do everything with your gloves on? I’ve never seen anyone do that, but I’ve never known any cowboys or ranchers up close. Guess it keeps you from cutting yourself on the can, huh?”

      By the time the food was done, night had fallen. Noah removed his gloves and divided the food onto two tin plates. He handed one, along with a spoon, to Katherine.

      “Thank you.” She took a seat on the ground beside the fire.

      Out of habit, Noah situated himself so that his hat shaded his face from the glow of the flames.

      Kate kept silent long enough to eat. Finished, she picked up the empty skillet. “I’ll wash these in the stream.”

      Noah