Oh, she was a bother, all right. Micah saddled Gray and rode off the next morning with the sweet scent of Deborah’s tea-rose perfume haunting him. She’d been in the kitchen at the crack of dawn, baking bread and helping Grandma make breakfast. The two of them got along like kindred spirits. Micah knew he’d need to find a place for Deborah to go—and soon—before Grandma decided to adopt her.
“Grandma’s getting older,” Sam said as he rode Buck alongside Gray. “Seems to me having someone around to help her isn’t such a bad notion.”
“Louisa can do whatever Grandma needs.”
“If Grandma can nail her down long enough. Lou’s barely eighteen and still half wild. It occurs to me that having a young lady around might help tame her.” Micah glowered at him, but Sam pretended not to notice. “Sis will grow up fast enough, Micah. Once she does, she’ll marry and move away.”
Micah shot his brother a withering look. “Are you starting to have designs on Deborah?”
“She’s pretty and makes fine-tasting bread, but I’m still too itchy to settle down. Figure I have a few years left before I put my neck in the parson’s noose.”
Josh rode up, cramming something in his mouth. After he swallowed it, he grinned. “That gal sure can fry up a fine bacon sandwich. We ought to keep her.” He took the last bite. Mouth still full, he nodded at Micah. “I say you ought to marry her. That’d work just fine.”
Sam snickered.
Micah shook his head and forced a grin. “I thought Deborah was the only sunstruck one. Looks like you’re suffering from the sun, too.”
“Not at all.” Josh eased back in his saddle.
“Good. Then you can go over to Masterson’s and see if he’s done with the plow.”
“Aw, Micah—” Josh gave him a pained look. “Masterson’s? All I said was that it’s ’bout time for you to take a bride.”
Micah stared at him. “Once you get the plow, go ahead and do that patch for Grandma.”
Sam chuckled after Josh rode off. “I’m no fool. I’m not going to mention anything matrimonial to you, else I’ll get stuck with something I hate doing, too.”
Throughout the day, Micah kept banishing thoughts of Deborah. She’d said nothing more about Dustin’s fate or how her dreams had been broken. She was wearing black—but it was for her father. He couldn’t help wondering what had become of her that she’d be in such straits. Whatever the cause, as soon as he could spare a few hours and a few bucks, he’d send her back to civilization. It would keep her safe and keep him sane.
“You’re sure you don’t mind?”
“Don’t be silly.” Lou bounced on her bed. “All three of my brothers share a room. This one’s big enough for the two of us.”
Since her arrival, Deborah had shared Grandma’s room, but because she’d be staying awhile longer, it had been decided that she’d move upstairs with Louisa. Pale-blue walls and white furniture made the room an airy haven. The flowers painted on the headboard and washstand made her wonder if Lou had once been feminine and lost her sense of womanhood after living in the wilds for so long.
Deborah smoothed her hand over Lou’s lavender and blue grandmother’s-flower-garden quilt. “I admire how you’ve used what you have on hand to make your home so charming. I have to admit, now that I’m here, I’m starting to think this isn’t No Man’s Land. It feels more like No Woman’s Land!”
Lou smiled at her, then dipped her head as she tugged up a stocking and frowned at a small hole in it. “Paint only comes in two colors over at Foster’s: white and barn red. After we were done painting the house and barn, Daddy said Grandma could have the leftover paint. Micah and Sam were hauling the stove here, and they brought back a little tube of blue tint.”
That explained why the downstairs walls were dark blue below the wainscoting and pale blue above. Deborah could imagine Grandma mixing the three colors she had on hand in cups and bowls to create the pink, violet, and lavender. She’d probably spent days to brush the flowers on the kitchen wall and create the handsome burgundy design that bordered the parlor walls.
Lou fell back on the pillows and rolled to her side. She got a sheepish look as she confessed, “According to Grandma, I sleep like a bobcat. I don’t want to seem selfish about the bed.”
“Oh, no. The cot will be fine. Believe me, after staying at some of those stage stations, the floor of a brickyard would be soft.” Deborah decided her basket-of-tulips quilt would match best and planned to get it out of the trunk on her next trip downstairs.
Lou dug her elbows into the bed and propped her chin in her hands. “I’ve been thinking about something ever since you hopped back out of the wagon yesterday.”
“What is that?” Deborah started unpacking her valise. She’d been given the bottom drawer of the dresser and half a dozen pegs off to the side of her cot.
“You said God would put you where He wanted you. What if He wants you here with us?”
“I want to live in the center of the Lord’s will, Louisa. I just don’t know where that is.” Deborah slowly set Daddy’s Bible on her side of the dresser.
“I’ve got three brothers, all of them handsome and smart. Every last one of them is of marriageable age and able to support and provide for you.”
Deborah stayed silent. She couldn’t very well confess that she’d thought the same thing, then promptly decided Micah was the only one who made her heart skip a beat. What kind of woman was she, to be chasing a man?
“Grandma says you’re in mourning for your papa and for Dustin, too. She figures you need time to grieve. I suppose she’s right, but it would be far more comfort to lean on a strong man rather than to go it alone, if you ask me.”
Now if that didn’t beat all. Someone had put a basket of wildflowers in the bathroom. Micah stood in the doorway from the mudroom that led into the washroom and stared at the ridiculous thing. It sat on the little table between the big, galvanized steel bathtub and the smaller, copper hip bath. He let out an impatient huff, then turned to the washstand, only to discover the mirror over the basin reflected the basket of flowers.
Resolved to ignore the flowers, Micah rolled up his sleeves and poured water into the basin. When he reached for the soap, he came up with a cake of something pink. He dropped it back on the china holder and snatched the amber, oval bar of Pears.
Washed up and hungry for supper, Micah exited the washroom, through the mudroom, and into the kitchen. Instead of being at her usual station by the stove, Grandma was “In the Starlight” on the piano. Lou was setting the table, and Deborah leaned over the hot oven, humming along with the hymn in a sultry alto. She bent down to check on something that smelled good enough to be on the menu at heaven’s wedding feast. Only nobody wore black to a wedding, and he had yet to see her in anything other than crow-black mourning.
Her wearing black was a great notion. Dustin hadn’t been her husband, so she needn’t wear widow’s weeds on account of him. As for her father—back East, they might observe all of those rules, but here, she could be in something more colorful. Grandma hadn’t made Lou wear black on account of Mama’s or Father’s passing.
The dreary shade put a man off, and that fact pleased Micah to no end. The fellows in No Man’s Land weren’t going to get near enough to catch a whiff of her perfume or hear her sing. They’d spy her crow-black dresses and keep their distance—all except for the Testaments, but he’d take care of them. Satisfied, Micah nodded to himself. Nothing would stand in the way of his plan to send her back to the city, where she could hitch up with some fellow who’d treat her like a queen.
“This is about ready,” Deborah said as she shut the oven door. “When will the men be here?”
“I’m home.” He smiled at how she’d jumped. Surprising her made him glad he’d oiled all the door hinges just last week. He sniffed appreciatively. “Judging from the smell, I think I ought to send Josh and Sam off to do late chores so I can eat their share.”
Deborah laughed. It was the first time he’d seen her happy, and her eyes sparkled like a handful of stars. “You might reconsider that. Josh seems quite put out with you over the plow.”
“Weather’s nice and the water level’s good. Grandma said she had plenty of time yet to plant more garden and put up more yield. No reason Josh shouldn’t pitch in.”
“I love to garden.” Deborah perked up. “I brought some seeds along in my trunk.”
“Which one?” Sam lounged in the doorway and gave her a playful wink. “I helped carry in those trunks, and I’d swear in a court of law all but the smallest is chock-full of sad irons.”
“You poor man.” Deborah pressed a hand to her bosom in a gesture of horrified concern. “You’d better hasten to the table to replenish your waning strength.”
“Not ’til he uses the washroom,” Grandma called out. “Be sure to comb your hair tonight, too, Samuel. You still had specks of sawdust in it last evening. I only serve the civilized at my supper table.”
“No need to put in more of a garden, then. Nobody but you is going to be sitting there,” Josh grumbled as he came down the stairs.
“We’ll see about that.” Micah caught the look in Grandma’s eyes as she said those words. She’d glanced over at Deborah and gave her I’ve-got-a-secret-plan smile.
The hair stood up on the back of his neck.
The floor creaked. Deborah froze, held her breath, then slowly relaxed as she realized it was just the wooden structure settling for the night. She quietly slipped into her robe and whispered a prayer of thanks for the fact that though Lou flipped over in bed like storm-tossed waves, it would take cannon fire to wake her.
One arm clutching the pasteboard box to her side, Deborah cautiously opened the door a crack and peered out into the dark hall. The door to the large room the men slept in was closed. No light shone up through the staircase, so the downstairs would be vacant.
Relieved, she tiptoed down the hall, past the men’s door, and descended the stairs. She’d banked the fire in the stove at bedtime, so it would be easy to accomplish what she needed to do now.
Deftly using the hook, she lifted a stove lid and set it aside. One by one, she slid the letters she’d sent to Dustin into the flames. Each caught fire and turned into curling ashes. All of her girlish dreams of romance, of finding excitement in the West, of wedding a dashing rancher burned away with those pages.
When the last one turned to ash, she bent the lid of the box and stuffed it into the stove, too. It took longer to burn, and as it flared, Deborah gasped.
Micah stood less than a yard away, arms folded across his chest, silently watching her.
Wishing she’d been able to do this in complete privacy, she said, “I didn’t know you were up.”
“I heard someone on the stairs.”
“I’m sorry I disturbed you.” She stared at the bottom of the box and wished Micah would have waited just a few more minutes so she could have gotten rid of all of the evidence of her actions.
“Need help with that?” He nodded at the box.
“I just … it’s … mice.”
He drew closer. “Here.” He took it from her hands and methodically found the paper seam, tore along it, and disassembled the container. Acting as if he did this all the time, he casually said, “With the fire going, I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee.”
“I’ll make a pot.”
Deborah started the coffee, then headed for the stairs, only to have him hold her back.
“Share a cup.”
They sat across from each other at the table. Heat radiated from the stove, and Deborah curled her toes beneath the hem of her robe as she sipped from her mug.
“Why did you burn them?” Micah studied her with an intensity that made her want to squirm. “Didn’t you want them as a keepsake?”
Deborah sighed. “Not particularly.”
“I considered stopping you. I thought you might want them when your grief wanes.”
Deborah pensively traced the handle of her mug. It felt dishonest to accept his sympathy. Quietly she admitted, “It’s not like that.”
“But you came clear out here to marry him.”
“I was brought up to honor my mother and father. Daddy approved of Dustin. He felt Dustin showed a lot of potential and it would be a sound match. The week after we became engaged, Dustin took a mind to come claim some land and promised to send for me.” She paused. “That was three years ago.”
Micah didn’t say a word. He stared at her and took a slow sip of coffee.
“Papa counseled me to wait on God’s timing, but when he died, I didn’t have anywhere to stay. I wrote Dustin, and he sent a telegram telling me to come.” She didn’t mention that one word comprised the entire message on the cheap telegram. Some things were too humiliating to reveal.
“Did you love him?”
Deborah kept her gaze trained on the table. “I wasn’t given a choice. Dustin and Daddy thought it would be clever to place an announcement in the Gazette and use it as a surprise proposal.”
“Why did you allow him to court you if you didn’t hold any tender feelings?”
Stung by that question, Deborah dumped more sugar into her coffee and stirred it until the whirlpool threatened to spill over the edge. “We didn’t court. Daddy invited Dustin to the house about once a week for supper, and then they’d play chess. Daddy appreciated his intellect and humor; Dustin liked my cooking. To them, it added up to a suitable match.”
She dared to look up at Micah. “I came here because I didn’t have any other choice.”
“You’re a beautiful woman, Deborah. Surely, there are men back home who would be happy to marry you.”
His words made her heart flip-flop. He’d complimented her, yet he’d made it clear he held no interest in her. She shrugged. “I’m not marketable. I’m nearly penniless and well past my prime.”
“A gentleman isn’t supposed to ask …” His brows rose, making it clear he still expected an answer.
“I’m twenty-two.” She took a sip of her coffee and almost gagged on how sweet it tasted. “If you’ll excuse me …” She rose.
Micah’s bench scraped the hardwood floor as he stood. He shadowed her to the sink and said nothing about the granular sludge she poured from her cup down the drain. His voice stirred the tendrils that escaped her braid and curled around her face and nape. “Deb, matrimony shouldn’t just be a union of practicality. I’m sorry Travis passed on, but I’m not sorry you escaped marrying a man whose fondness for you revolved around your stove instead of yourself.”
“You’re most kind.”
“No, I’m not. Don’t ever fool yourself into believing that.”
“How did you end up out here?”
He lounged his large frame against the counter and shrugged. “Dad was mourning Mom, and he wanted to get away from the memories. Grandma insisted on coming along to help with Lou, so here we are.”
“Is your father away on business?”
A shadow passed across his face. “No. He died after the first winter here. By then, we’d set down roots and decided to stay.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Her heart ached with empathy.
He trailed his rough fingers down her cheek. “Folks just say those words out of convention, but I know you understand and mean them.”
He withdrew his touch, and she felt lost.
The earth smelled rich, and the air carried a tang of cut grass. The men were scything and storing the tall, wild grasses to use as winter fodder for the cattle. Deborah gathered her slate skirts and scooted down the row as she planted more beans. A shadow fell over her.
“You’re in the sun. I don’t want you getting sun sick again.”
Deborah tilted her head back and peered from under the wide-brimmed straw hat she’d borrowed. “Your grandmother’s bonnet casts enough shade for the whole family to hold a picnic beneath it!”
Micah took off one of his leather gloves, cupped her chin, and rubbed her cheek with his thumb. He nodded approvingly. “Not too hot. Make sure you stop and rest awhile in the shade, and drink a dipper of water every hour.”
“Thank you for your concern.”
He nodded and walked away with that long-legged, loose-hipped stride of his. He stopped and turned around, and Deborah felt her cheeks grow warm because he’d caught her watching him. “Sugar, that hat isn’t anywhere big enough for a picnic. Stafford men all have big feet.”
“Bigger hearts,” she tacked on.
He let out a derisive snort and turned to walk off, but Deborah caught the flash of his smile.
Later that afternoon, Micah wasn’t smiling one bit. He stomped up the porch steps and grabbed her sewing basket. “Inside. Now.”
She hopped up. “Why?”