Extended Epilogues

Five Years Later 

 Clance took a bite of the misshapen cinnamon roll as he sat down behind the desk in his study. He smiled as they buttery treat fell apart in his hands, thinking back to watching Fern as she tried to teach their two sons how to make the rolls. 

There were few things that could make him smile more than his family. At that thought, he reached into his desk drawer as he licked the last of the treat from his fingers. He reached for the piece of paper he was looking for, careful not to add any more dirt to the wear that already showed on its outside. 

It had been five years since Fern had stepped off the train to start their life together in Hollow, and it was about four years and eleven months since the time he’d first read the letter now sitting before him. 

In the years of happiness, he’d spent with his wife, he’d often read the letter again, reflecting on how much they’d had to go through to find the happily-ever-after they were now living. This day especially was his favourite day of the year to read it, and he leaned back in his chair and held it in front of him now. 

 “Dear Clance,” he read, remembering exactly how he’d felt the first time he’d read those words in her first letter to him all those years ago, when she’d written to him about becoming his mail-order bride. The letter before him now hadn’t come for many months after that first one that had started it all though. 

 “I didn’t plan on writing you a letter as well, today. My fingers still are a little numb from how much I wrote to my sister earlier this afternoon. And I want to promise you that this time, I certainly didn’t say anything remotely awful about you, or something you had done or said even.” Clance chuckled at that now. It was funny, back then, he never would’ve thought he would ever be able to laugh about the words he’d once read on that horrible day they’d been robbed. Now, he was able to look back and laugh at his foolishness, but only because he was so happy with his life as it was.  

 He cleared his throat as he read the next part, knowing that the words were much more serious. 

 “I know that it’s in the past, but at times, the memories of the night we were robbed haunt me. I can’t get myself to forget the fear and worry I felt, no matter how much I try.  

 I know you must understand that—you probably understand that more, as you have been living in the ranch far longer than I. That’s what I tell myself as an excuse for your actions.” Clance shook his head at the man he used to be. He’d changed a lot since then, all for better, he thought—and all thanks to Fern.  

 “Whenever I feel the pain of when you yelled at me fresh as ever inside my bones, I whisper to myself that the only reason you took your anger out on me was because of all you had lost. 

 You almost did lose me then too, Clance…” This was always the hardest part to read, but he always did. He couldn’t imagine his life without Fern, and he paid close attention to this part, so he never repeated his mistakes again. “But you had a part of my heart, and I couldn’t begin to endure the pain it would have caused to part from you, when you had half of me in your fist.  

 I know you that you have no clue of what you’ve been holding for quite some time now. Though I want to tell you that I care for you so much more than just friends, but a little less than lovers. I also want to wait until I know you’re capable of loving me as much as I deserve.  

 You’re in your room right now. I only just left your study after listening to you explain all about Georgia, and how I misunderstood your words. Do you blame me though? Anyone would have assumed you were in love with someone else if they had seen your face once I confronted you about her.” Clance winced, hating to think back on that awful day when he’d almost ruined his marriage and lost the woman he loved.  

 “I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. You looked at me like I was a stranger you had never seen, and I was asking you something so personal, you thought it was strange.  

 The more I sat on the grass waiting for at least one word to spill from your lips to prove me wrong, the more your expression turned to guilt. I assumed it was guilt for being unfaithful, but now I know it was guilt for being afraid.  

 I don’t know if I should believe every single word you spoke to me today and forgive you. Or if I should bear the pain of leaving a half of me with you, and in return have the relief of knowing you won’t be able to break your promises again.” Clance cleared his throat of the tears that always threatened when he read those words. It would have been unbearable to lose her, and he was grateful every day that Fern had been strong enough to reach through his insecurities and help him find his way to her.  

 “I don’t know a lot, and I can’t make decisions without knowing. It’s hard for me, Clance. I’m writing this so you’ll know someday that the only reason I’m in your life while you read this, is because I adore you enough to look past all things and forgive you.  

 So here are the words you hope to hear, I forgive you. And will keep doing so, but with a fight. You won’t know this until much later.” He smiled again, knowing that Fern had stuck to that promise. Fern certainly was a fighter, if nothing else. That was one of the greatest lessons his wife had taught him in all these years—how to fight for the things he loved. 

 He went back to reading. “And I hope you’ll forgive me for all the distress I’ve caused as well.  

 But there’s more I want to say to you.  

 Despite what you may believe, you’re better than any man I’ve met before. And trust me, I’ve spoken to many suitors before I responded to your ad. Do you know why you’re better, Clance? It’s because you don’t see how much goodness you have inside yourself. How much love you have to give someone else, and how much room you have in you to be loved.  

 Georgia didn’t steal everything from you, and now that I know your story, I promise I won’t allow you to think that she’ll ever have the chance to steal more from you. 

 When I give you this letter, I’ll tell you to read it only when you fall in love with me. Perhaps you’ll be sitting out in the patio as the sun is high above your head, and joy spilling from your heart. I’ll be inside baking. Or maybe if it takes you a little longer than I think, I’ll be inside with our child.” The picture she’d imagined was close to the reality of when he’d read this letter for the first time. He’d snuck outside to read it after her watching as she baked, though it had been before they’d learned she was pregnant with their first child.  

 “Where are we Clance? Where are we right now? I hope it is somewhere good. I hope there’s loud laughter and memories of different adventures in all the crooks of our house.” Another prediction of hers that had come true.  

 “I didn’t mean for this letter to sound so depressing, and now that I think of it, I may have written more hurtful phrases than ones that secretly mean I love you.  

 But please remember…I love you, Clance.  

 I love you now, and when you read this, I’m sure I’ll be loving you harder.  

 I’m choosing to say the words on paper, so you’ll know that all these days, or months, or years, you’ve always been a man who deserves more affection than he thinks he does. I couldn’t be happier to be the woman who gets to give you all that. Because to me, all your many flaws mean nothing. I’ll only see you by your perfections.  

 After you finish reading this, come wrap me in your arms and hold me tight against your chest. Press your lips to my ear, and whisper that we’ll keep finding our way to each other no matter what. Always.” 

 Grinning from ear-to-ear now, Clance gently folded the letter and pushed his seat back to do just as she’d instructed in her letter. But before he could stand, a noise at the door stole his attention. 

 He looked up, realising now that he’d been so lost in his reading of the letter that he hadn’t noticed Fern coming in the room. 

 “When’d you get here, darling?” he asked, shooting her the affectionate smile he couldn’t keep off his face every time he saw her. 

 “Somewhere around the part where I saw you were the best man I’d ever met, I think.” She grinned at him coyly, letting him know that she knew exactly what he’d been reading. Fern had written him many letters in the past five years, and he loved to keep them all. But this one letter, the one that represented all his feelings of love for her, was always his favourite.  

 “Well, it’s a good thing you’re here now,” he said as he got up and slowly walked towards you. “You’re just in time for me to do this.” Without any more warning, he jumped in front of Fern and wrapped her in his arms, lifting her up off the ground as she laughed. 

 “Put me down, Clance!” she protested, and it was only then that Clance realised Fern held something in her hands. 

 “What’s that you got?” he asked. 

 “Oh, this?” she said innocently. “Just a little anniversary present.” 

 She handed the wrapped gift to him, and he held the rectangular package in his hands. He looked at Fern with his eyebrows raised, wondering what she’d gotten up to. 

 Not wanting to wait another minute to see, he peeled off the wrappings and caught his breath. It was a painting, set in the same exact setting as the picture of him and his parents that had sat on the wall all these years. Except, instead of his parents, he was staring down at himself—now a man—with his arm wrapped around Fern, their two boys standing at their feet. 

 He felt a swell of emotion fill his chest as he looked down at the perfect family he and Fern had created. He never wanted to stop looking at it. 

 “I thought you could hang it here, in your study?” Fern said, though her uncertainty made it sound more like a question. Clance looked up from the painting and stared at his wife, grateful again for every moment he’d gotten to spend with her. When he didn’t say a word, but just stared, Fern looked down and cleared her throat. “Do you like it?” 

 Clance had to laugh at that, and he did. A great, booming laugh full of joy and happiness. Within seconds, Fern was laughing along with him, though she didn’t appear to know why. Soon enough, she gently flicked him on his arm, a big smile on her face, asking “Well, do you?” 

 “No, I don’t like it,” he answered, and gave a chuckle again as he watched Fern’s expression change into a frown. “I love it. Almost as much as I love you.” 

 And with that, Clance put down the painting and wrapped Fern in his arms again, basking in the joy of their happily-ever-after. 

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One year later

Celia was exhausted, but she knew there was no way she could go home without stopping in to say hello to Lacey first. The daylight was warm and hazy in the early fall air, bringing just the faintest scent of crisp wind and snow, a whisper of what would be coming in the next few months.

Lacey entered the door herself, giving Celia a delighted squeal and an embrace, which Celia, laughing, received generously, the two friends holding each for a moment before letting go.

“Celia!” she cried, leading Celia through the front foyer of her new house. After marrying Deputy Urquhart six months prior, Lacey Urquhart had poured her heart and soul into creating the most perfect living space for herself in the deputy’s previously bare-bones home. He had explained to Lonnie and Celia not long after the wedding that he was quite used to living with only his hunting dog, Duck, and that having Lacey around was going to take some getting used to.

“Trust me,” he said, sounding sheepish. “I welcome the change. I’ve been wanting a woman’s touch around the place for ages,”

A woman’s touch was exactly what Lacey had given the place to, adding fresh curtains and blankets, covering the walls with art, and planting a beautiful flower garden alongside the front walkway, rivaling the beauty of the town gardens themselves.

“This house is beautiful,” Celia breathed, meaning every word. The sunlight streamed into the open window, casting the entire home in a buttery yellow glow. Freshly built wooden furniture sat all over the home, a wedding gift courtesy of Lacey’s brother. It was all covered in a rich mahogany finish, reminding Celia of cleanliness and warm, fresh cookies and Christmastime. “I love the furniture John built you.”

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Lacey said reverently, running one thumb along the side of a perfectly crafted end table. “John really outdid himself this time, didn’t he?”

“That he did,” Celia agreed, loving the way the smell of cedar permeated everything. Maybe it was time to call on John and see if he’d build the furniture for her and Lonnie’s newest room, she thought with a smile.

“Well, enough about me and my brother!” Lacey said, flapping her hands about. “I have gossip for you, Celia Underwood.”

She motioned for Celia to have a seat, which Celia did, laughing.

“Oh, Lacey,” she said gayly. “You always have gossip, don’t you?”

“I guess,” Lacey responded impatiently. “But this is important gossip, Celia. It concerns you. Er, well, not really. But it concerns Henry.”

“Oh, is that right?” Celia responded lightly, lifting her eyebrows to the ceiling. “Hmm. What is he up to these days?”

“Nothing and you know it,” Lacey said back, matching Celia’s raised eyebrows with a look of her own. “He’s still in jail, of course. And, he’s recently been transferred all the way to Sing Sing, in New York!”

“Really,” Celia said, smiling at Felicity, who had bustled in to serve them tea.

Following the repossession of the Irvin ranch, Celia had made sure that all of the former employees of the Irvin household were able to get steady employment. Felicity worked for Lacey now, and Timothy and Rosa had both gone to the Wright household since their cook and ranch hand had been close to retirement anyway. As for Lorna, she had gone to work as a nursery maid for Frances O’Donnell, who had just given birth to her newest child. While Celia missed having her friend around daily, she still faithfully met Lorna once a week for a walk around the town garden.

“Yes, really,” Lacey replied, eyeing Celia. “He’s fitting to serve a ten-year jail sentence for fraud, you know.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Celia said, sipping from her teacup. “He had been extorting those men and living off credit for years, after all.”

“Well, yes,” Lacey agreed. “We all know that now. But I’m wondering how long, exactly, you’ve known that.”

“You were there that night I found Henry’s book,” Celia replied innocently.

“Yes, but something tells me you knew about Henry’s devious ways for a lot longer than the rest of us,” Lacey said pointedly, giving Celia a look.

“Oh, Lacey,” Celia responded, still feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“Hmmmm,” Lacey said, sipping her tea and eyeing Celia from over the rim. “If you say so, Celia Underwood.”

Celia just smiled back. She wasn’t sure why she wanted to keep her knowledge of Henry’s wicked ways a secret; after all, she had had many opportunities to tell her friends and peers that she had been right all along, that she had known the truth about Henry Irvin for a lot longer than she had let on.

But something kept her from speaking this truth aloud. Maybe it was her humbleness, her desire to leave the past in the past. More than anything, however, Celia realized that she simply did not care about Henry anymore. When she looked at her life, all she saw was the future, and what that future held.

Absently running one hand over her stomach, she turned back towards Lacey and drained the rest of her tea. She gave her friend a smile and stood. “I’d better be getting home, Lacey. Lonnie will be waiting.”

“Oh, isn’t he always?” Lacey teased back.

“Yes,” Celia said quietly, almost to herself. “Yes, he is.”

*****

Lonnie arrived home before his wife, which he had been expecting. She had told him earlier that day that she would be calling on Lacey before coming home, and not to worry. Lonnie didn’t worry much these days at all, he was realizing. Having Celia around meant he was always at ease, always comfortable.

Always home.

Humming, he began to pull out an embroidered tablecloth for dinner, admiring the tiny flowers Rosa had stitched on herself as a wedding gift. He hoped Celia was going to make chili, which was his favorite of her many dishes. He had been surprised at what a good cook she was when they had first gotten married. Now, he was no longer surprised, instead of letting her daily meals fill him up and slowly expand his waistline.

His stomach growled as he smoothed out the edges of the tablecloth, his mind on a big, steaming bowl of chili. Just as he was thinking about it, he heard the clomping of hooves coming up the drive, meaning that Celia was home.

Despite his protests, Celia had insisted on learning to ride the carriage, and was now an old pro at it, guiding Roger with both a gentle and firm hand. Lonnie had relinquished the ownership of Roger entirely to his wife, instead of purchasing Henry’s old mustang, which he’d officially now renamed Daisy.

Celia burst through the front door, giving Lonnie a wide, easy smile as she did so.

I could see that smile every day for the rest of my life, Lonnie thought as he gazed back lovingly. Hopefully, I’ll get to.

“Darling,” Celia said cheerfully, leaning forward to kiss Lonnie on the cheek. Even after a year, Lonnie still sometimes didn’t believe his luck, could have never imagined that one day all of Celia’s looks, touches, and kisses would be falling squarely on him.

“Celia,” he said back warmly and then hesitated. Of course, he had heard the news about Henry; everyone in town had. Celia most likely had too, but he didn’t want to bring down her joyous mood with talk of her former groom.

Like always, however, it appeared that Celia could read his mind. She pulled off her overcoat, handing it to Lonnie, who hung it on the rack beside the door.

“So,” she said, barely glancing at him. “You heard the news about Henry, did you?”

“I did,” he said hesitantly. “What did you think of it?”

“You want to know something, Lonnie?” she said, coming closer to him. “When I heard he was going to prison for ten years, I thought I would feel … vindicated. Overjoyed. Something. But you know what I felt?”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Celia said, her eyes dancing triumphantly. “I felt absolute positively, nothing at all. I don’t care about him anymore; I don’t care what happens to him, or where he goes in this life or the next. And that has been the best feeling of them all.” She reached up to peck him a second time on the cheek, her lips warm and soft against his skin. “I just don’t have room to care anymore. I care too much about other things. About my father, about you  .about … .” Celia pulled away then, her smile widening but also growing slightly nervous.

“About what?” Lonnie asked, bridging the gap between them once more.

“About … this…” she whispered, placing her hand on her stomach, her eyes widening towards his knowingly.

It took Lonnie a moment to understand what Celia was saying, but once he did, he let out an excited cry, immediately dropping to his knees so he could kiss Celia’s belly, which was still deceivingly flat.

I’m going to be a father, he thought dizzyingly. It’s really happening.

His father’s face danced through his head, followed by Clay’s.

I won’t be like my father, he thought, scooping Celia up into his arms while she squealed with delight. Or Clay, for that matter. I’ll be the best parts of both of them. And best of all, I’ll be me.

         He gazed down at his wife, at his beautiful, smart, amazing wife, that he got to wake up to every morning and fall asleep beside every night. And now, she would be giving him the greatest gift of all.

“I’m so glad you came to White Bear Creek,” Lonnie whispered, brushing a stray lock out of Celia’s face. “I’m so glad you came into my life.”

“Oh, Lonnie,” Celia whispered, reaching up to kiss him softly on the lips. Even after a year, Lonnie still felt goosebumps pushing through his skin every time Celia kissed him. “I am too.” She paused for a second, her eyes dancing. “You needed me, after all,” she teased.

“I did,” he confirmed, reaching forward to kiss her once more. “I really did.”

Lonnie used his boot to push open the front door, carrying Celia straight onto the front porch while she giggled. They both stared into the fields, towards the mountains, towards the setting sun, their future stretching in front of them as far as they could see.

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The first rays of early-morning sunshine poked in through the bedroom window, and Myrtle’s eyelids fluttered open to meet the day. She sat up and let out a deep, contented yawn, then nudged the gently snoring form obscured under a sheet in the bed beside her. “Good morning under there.”

The form shifted slightly, and Lee’s handsome, groggy face peeked out from beneath his cover. “Morning already? Patently impossible, Mrs. Bryant. I just closed my eyes a moment ago.”

Myrtle tugged back the sheet to expose her husband fully to the morning light, and he groaned good-naturedly. “All right, all right, no point in arguing with the laws of nature.”

Their door to their room suddenly burst open, and a tiny blur of movement leapt into bed and cozied itself up between the two of them. “I’m hungry, Mama! Breakfast time?”

Myrtle’s heart glowed with affection as she stroked the young boy’s wispy hair and Lee looked on adoringly. “It certainly is, John. Even if Papa would rather sleep for another few hours. Come on, if we both push together, perhaps we can roll his carcass out of bed…”

Her son’s face lit up with devilish glee. “Let’s roll him!” As Lee made a show of protesting, Myrtle and John nudged him to the edge of the bed, then sent him tumbling onto the floor. He scrambled to his feet and peered imperiously down at the two of them, even as a delighted smile flickered on his face. “I suppose you both think you’re very clever.”

John grinned up at his father. “Yeah, really clever!”

Myrtle found her feet and lifted the boy down to the floor. “All right, clever boy, let’s go rouse your sister.”

The trio emerged into the sunlit sitting room of their home, and Myrtle glanced at the dedication year carved into the fireplace mantle as they passed by. 1882, when the house had been rebuilt after the fire. 1882, when her life had changed in ways she never could have fathomed – had it really been five years already? Sometimes it seemed like just yesterday…

But then she looked down lovingly to the lanky five-year-old boy at her feet, and she knew that it was all real, every ecstatic moment of the life she’d lived since Lee Bryant had stumbled into town so long ago.

Myrtle eased the door to the smallest bedroom open and crept inside to the edge of the crib Lee had constructed as little John watched quietly. “Good morning, my dear.”

Her daughter Helen, not quite two years old yet, stirred in her sleep and kicked at the sheet draped over her tiny form, in precisely the same way that Lee did some nights. Myrtle’s heart swelled as the girl’s eyes blinked open, and she reached in to pluck Helen from the crib before the trio moved out to the kitchen, where Lee had already gotten coffee started. He was presently stirring some batter in a large bowl as the skillet beside him sizzled with butter. “Pancakes all around for the Bryant clan?”

John hopped up to his chair and nodded fervently. “All pancakes are round!”

Myrtle laughed and kissed the boy’s forehead, then glanced at Lee with a furtive smile. “He really does take after you, at least as far as his inventive use of the language goes.”

Her husband bowed at the waist while pouring batter into the sputtering skillet. “We’ll take that as a compliment, my dear. Isn’t that right, young man?”

John grinned. “Yeah!”

Myrtle plunked Helen down right next to her, and the girl gazed around the room with the entitlement that only children could possess. “Pancakes now?”

“Any minute, sweetheart.” Lee gingerly flipped over his first few cakes to finish cooking, then poured two coffees and joined them at the table. “I think I’ll pop into town for a bit this afternoon and put an hour of two of work in at the shop, on that chest of drawers I’m building for Harmon and Lu.”

“Of course, Lee. Just remember they invited us for dinner this evening, so don’t linger too long.” Myrtle sipped her coffee appreciatively as the children continued to eye the nearby skillet. “What’s the next project after that?”

“An end table for Orville Denby, then a rocking chair for Reverend Thomas, if I remember my work orders right.”

She smiled indulgently. “The hectic life of a furniture-maker never ends, does it?”

Lee pursed his lips as he rose again to tend to the skillet. “I get the distinct impression that you’re patronizing me, Mrs. Bryant. What do you think, John?”

The boy furrowed his brow. “Yeah, probably patronizing. What’s patronizing?”

Lee smiled as he delivered the first steaming batch of pancakes to the table, sliding them onto waiting plates. “Oh, just take my word for it, son.”

The four of them set at their breakfast eagerly, and while Lee tidied up the kitchen afterward, Myrtle lifted Helen from her chair as John dashed for the door that let outside. “Mama, can I let Jules and Verne out form the barn?”

“Surely, but just keep them in the yard with Papa for now and wait for me before you go down to the pasture, all right? I’ll be out in just a minute.”

The boy burst out into the sunshine, and Lee followed right behind, looking like an overgrown child himself in his excitement to embrace the morning. Myrtle hung back for a moment, and as Helen squirmed restlessly in her arms, her eyes landed on the painting that had hung over the fireplace ever since the new house had been finished. The scene her mother had painted was the same as it had always been, of course, depicting the old ranch house and the vista of the frontier beyond, but regardless of how many times Myrtle had gazed upon it, she never failed to feel a fresh sense of the lineage that it signified.

Even though Foster Ranch looked much different than it once had, the unbroken family line was still going strong. Myrtle laughed to herself as she recalled how Lee had insisted that the name of the homestead remain the same, even after she’d taken his surname following their wedding in Lakemont First Baptist. It was tradition, he had said, and she was only too happy to agree.

Myrtle gave her daughter a tight squeeze, then emerged from the house into the bright morning sun and set her down so she could careen across the yard toward her brother as he led his favorite cows, Jules and Verne, out of the barn. Lee had already begun work on the new chicken coop he was building at the far side of the yard, and the children both made a beeline for their father and watched with fascination as he hammered away. “Watch out behind you, Papa!” John hollered amiably. “The chickens are coming!”

Lee whirled theatrically and stared down the onrushing stampede of fowl at his feet as the children laughed with glee. Myrtle couldn’t help smiling herself; her husband’s skills at ranching had improved by leaps and bounds over the years, but John and Helen had been born to this life, and they never missed an opportunity to revel in their father’s awkwardness.

She moved to the barn and opened every gate to let the rest of the cattle out for grazing, and then released the horses from their stables as well. Laramie clopped out to the yard, and Walter, on permanent “loan” from Luella, moseyed along behind. As Myrtle met Lee and the children at the chicken coop and sat cross-legged on the ground to draw in the dirt alongside Helen, John threw his arms around her neck in a bear hug. “I’m thirsty, Mama.”

“Of course, sweetheart, I’ll fetch you some water from out back.”

Myrtle stood, brushed herself off, and started toward the well behind the house, but as she was passing the barn, she paused and turned to take in the scene. Lee had left his work with the new chicken coop to join the children, and bright morning sunshine illuminated the three of them in a haze of amber as they played merrily in the dirt. It looked like a painting, but not the one her mother had done so many years ago. No, this scene was something she had built herself. She and Lee, the husband she’d never dreamed of until he arrived in Lakemont, the man she couldn’t dream of ever being without now.

He glanced up from the fun with John and Helen and spotted the faraway look she could feel on her face. “Is everything all right, love?”

Myrtle smiled widely and gave him a wave, then set off for the well. Yes, everything was all right now, here on Foster Ranch and surrounded by her family’s love. It was better than all right, in fact. It was a little piece of prairie heaven that they’d built for themselves.

Together.

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Sometimes, Caroline liked to stand outside their house and simply admire it. That’s what she was doing now, Jack noticed as he passed by the window. She stood on their wide porch with her hands on her hips and a faint smile on her lips, gazing up at their house like it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

It wasn’t quite as magnificent as the Hume estate back in New York City, but it was a darn sight better than where they used to live. Admittedly, Jack had been reluctant to move at first because that little place was the only home he’d ever known, and he didn’t want to leave it behind. But, it had bad memories attached to it, reminders of what had happened, and so, in the end, he hadn’t put up too much of a fight when Caroline showed him the home she wanted.

Now here they were, two months later, settling nicely into their new house.

Cracking open the front door, Jack poked his head through and called, “Caroline, it’s cold. Why don’t you come inside? I’ll make coffee.”

Her gaze flickered to him, a smile creeping onto her lips. “It’s not that cold,” she insisted with a laugh. “Come out and enjoy the view with me.”

“Staring at the walls of our house is hardly a view, love,” he replied with a laugh, “but if you insist.”

In truth, the house was quite the sight. Tall windows let in the afternoon sunshine and gave a glimpse into the rooms beyond. Each window on the bottom floor had a little wooden plant box attached to it so that the windowsills were filled with bright green foliage and delicate flowers. The ones on the porch had tulips, bright red and yellow filling up the view.  Then, of course, there was the beautiful, sprawling garden that stretched out all around them. It was hardly a mansion, but it was big and beautiful and more than Jack could ever have asked for.

They took a moment to stand together, basking in the sun and each other’s company. Jack loved the quiet days like this when the two of them simply enjoyed each other’s presence, with no chores or responsibilities to think about. It was heart-warming to know that they had something Jack had once considered impossible.

“I heard from Vince earlier today,” he murmured. “I know Clyde’s trial took longer than expected, so I asked him to keep me updated.”

She turned her gaze to him then, brows raised. “Oh? How did it go?”

He smiled gently, one brow raised. “Well, it’s a harsh sentence – not that he doesn’t deserve it. A lifetime of hard labor on charges of attempted murder, stalking, violent threats, bodily harm… the list goes on, and the judge apparently had no sympathy for him.”

Caroline frowned, and Jack couldn’t help but run his hand through her hair. “I feel so sorry for him. I know I’m safe now, and I don’t have to keep looking behind my shoulder anymore,” Caroline murmured. “But at the same time… it’s a shame how Clyde turned out. I really don’t know what happened to him, and it’s difficult not to feel like things should have turned out differently.” She bit down on her lip. “I do think Alasdair has been struggling with it most of all.”

“It’s been weighing on all of us,” he murmured, “but now, we don’t have to worry.”

“Clyde has never worked a day in his life. I can’t help but wonder how he’ll survive a lifetime of labor.” Once, the thought would have brought her joy, Jack thought. But now, her smile slipped, and she let out a sigh. “I still find it difficult to believe that he really did all this, you know? I have to wonder if he was always like this, or if it was the gambling that turned him into such a horrid man. I don’t understand how he could even think to hurt his own family like this.”

Jack wound an arm around her waist and pulled her close. She made a satisfying oof as she landed against him, immediately sinking into his side. She fit there so perfectly, like the space was made just for her to occupy.

“At least we don’t have to worry about him any longer,” she murmured. “I’ve been putting it off as I’ve been waiting for Clyde to be put away, but I have something to tell you. Two things, actually.”

He glanced down at her, feeling his chest stutter. “Oh? Go on.”

Caroline shifted, hopping giddily from foot to foot. Whatever this was, she was dying to get it out. “Well,” she started slowly – drawing it out, raising the anticipation. Caroline tapped her chin in thought, too, as if she hadn’t probably been deliberating over whatever this was for days. “We have one Hume tailor shop in Hollow now, don’t we? Juliet was so happy when I suggested joining the tailor’s and dressmaker’s shops together, and with both families working together, it’s wonderful. I love it, don’t misunderstand me, but I can’t help but feel like we could do more. Not for the money, because we hardly need it, but to honor father’s memory.”

“More?” Jack asked. The wind ruffled past, tossed his hair about his face, and blurred his vision. “Whatever do you mean, love?”

A shrug and a coy little smile. “Alasdair wrote me the other week, and he has the most wonderful idea. He thinks that we should open more stores. We would start with a few here and there, but then they would eventually extend all throughout Texas. With the fortune Father left for us, and the business doing so well under Alasdair’s new ownership, he wants to expand even more.”

Jack grinned. Truly, that sounded like a lovely idea. Caroline adored working at the little shop in town – though she didn’t need it for the money – and it was clear from Alasdair’s letters that he loved his new role as owner of the company. Why not expand? “I think that’s great,” he replied softly, “but… what was the other thing you wanted to tell me?”

Now Caroline was truly grinning, her eyes going wide with excitement. “Oh, that’s even better news! I’m afraid I may have accidentally slipped up and told Susannah the news already. So, naturally, Hettie knows too, but I made her promise not to tell another soul.”

Now he was intrigued. What could possibly be so important that she had to make little Susannah promise not to tell? It brought a smile to his lips, and he had to fight back the urge to laugh at the dazzling smile on Caroline’s features. “I’m dying here, love. Please just tell me.”

She slipped both of her hands into his, squeezing softly, and continued to gaze up at him with that beautifully soft expression. “Well,” she started, lips parting into a lovely grin. “It’s very important, and unexpected, but I hope you’ll be as happy as I am.” She took a deep breath then, before letting it out in one big breath. “Jack, my dear, I’m pregnant.”

For a long moment, all he could do was stare. Had he heard that right? Caroline, his Caroline, was pregnant. With their baby? The thought repeated over and over in his mind, but it refused to quite settle in there. When it finally did, his eyes shot wide, and he let out a gasp. Then, he grabbed Caroline by the waist and spun until her feet left the floor. “You’re pregnant!” he repeated wildly, laughter spilling from his lips. “My goodness, I don’t believe it.”

“Put me down before I throw up on you,” Caroline laughed, swatting at Jack’s shoulder until he finally did as he was told. Only once her feet were firmly on the ground did she say, “Yes, I’m pregnant. I’ve never been late in my life, but I was this time. Then, the morning sickness came… but that doesn’t matter because we’re going to have a baby, Jack! Isn’t that amazing?”

Slowly, a smile spread across Jack’s lips. He couldn’t stop smiling, not when he looked at Caroline’s beautiful face and knew what the future had in store. “It’s absolutely fantastic, my love.”

And it was.

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Josephine was born late. Sabrina had been mad with the desire to get the baby out in the last week of her pregnancy. She’d been willing to try any home remedy, from spicy food to long walks. Anything to end the prolonged stay her baby seemed so intent on.

Gus had been a wonder. Not a day had gone by when he didn’t tell her how beautiful she was, no matter how she felt about her much changed body. He rubbed her swollen feet and took on much more of the chores around the house.

Sabrina wondered how much advice he’d gotten from Cole. Diana gave birth during the middle of Sabrina’s pregnancy and had plenty of advice for her. Finally, Sabrina had gone into labor. She’d been the panicked one, scared of what was going to happen. Gus had been a calm rock, allowing her to cry and vent.

“I don’t want to do this,” she’d told him once he returned to the cabin with Diana and Dr. Barnes. Cole was outside cradling his son.

“I don’t think we have a choice, darling.” He’d placed a kiss on her forehead. “You can do this. You’re the strongest person I know.”

True to form, Josephine took hours to come. But she’d come into the world with a healthy cry and a shock of black hair, just like Sabrina’s. Sabrina was exhausted, and she knew Gus must have been too, but he never left her side.

“She is beautiful. Just like her mother,” he said, cradling little Josephine. They’d decided on naming the baby after Sabrina’s father. If the baby had been a boy, he would have been Joseph, but since she was a girl, Josephine.

If anyone in town noticed that Josephine was born earlier than what made sense considering how long she and Gus had been married, no one mentioned it. There were no questions about the girl’s parentage or any mention of possible impropriety between Sabrina and Gus.

The town simply loved the babe. She and Diana got into the habit of taking walks into town with their little ones. To say that the townsfolk doted on the children was an understatement. They were well-loved.

Gus stepped into the role of a father with more enthusiasm than Sabrina could have hoped for. He changed nappies and snuggled Josephine; Sabrina knew that she’d been falling in love with Gus by the time he proposed. If there was any question by the time Josephine was born, the way he loved and protected the baby was enough to put that question to rest.

She was hopelessly, relentlessly in love with her husband. And if Gus’ unceasing affection was anything to go by, the feeling was mutual.

Three years later, Josephine was the ruler of the Quincy Home Ranch. She came out in the mornings with Sabrina, reaching her hand into the cracked corn and scraps to scatter it for the chickens. The coop had grown into ten hens. She stomped through the stables and placed kisses on Stagecoach’s nose every day, and he happily bent toward her to nuzzle.

Josephine’s favorite was the young mare, Sweetpea. A wedding gift from the Haggertys. Sweetpea was growing alongside Josephine. In another year or two, they would be able to ride together. Josephine seemed to want to ride already. She loved going out on Stagecoach with Gus.

“Mama, the sheep?” Josephine asked, looking up at her.

“No, sweetheart. Jacob is here today, and he’s going to tend to the sheep.”

“Where’s Jacob?” Josephine asked. Sabrina looked around; the young man was never late. He had to be here somewhere. She finally caught sight of him by the brook, taking a drink.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Sabrina said. Josephine happily trotted behind her. They reached the brook as Jacob finished his drink. “Good morning, Jacob.”

“Oh, good morning Mrs. Quincy,” he greeted before turning to Josephine and giving her an exaggerated bow. “Good morning, Princess,” he said. Josephine dissolved into a fit of giggles, as she often did with Jacob.

He was the son of one of the ranch hands at Haggerty. A fine young man, 18 years old, and a hard worker. Jacob had promise and potential. Sabrina knew that Gus hoped to take the young man under his wing and help him the way he’d been helped at Haggerty ranch.

“Good morning, Jacob. Have you seen Gus?” Sabrina asked. She was surprised not to see her husband. It was sheep shearing day, and he usually started early to try and get as many sheep shorn as possible. The raw wool would go to the shops in town and get shipped out to the textile factories as well. Gus also kept a bit aside to be made into yarn. The sewing circle had expanded into a knitting circle as well, and Gus was their primary provider of materials. It made him an even more popular man around town as if that was something he needed.

“Yes, he had to head into town. We were working on Hercules when my shears broke, so he is heading to the general store to get another pair.”

That was a bit of bad luck. Sabrina wasn’t surprised that the shears had given out on Hercules. He was a monster of a sheep. Truly the alpha of the herd, if alpha sheep were even something that existed. This was life on a ranch, Sabrina had learned. Work didn’t ever end, and things went wrong, throwing off schedules.

“I’m planning to check the posts on the outskirts of the land. Normally I do that toward the end of the day, but I may as well get it done while Gus is out.”

Sabrina smiled. He was shaping up to be a great ranch hand. She remembered Gus telling her that checking the fencing was one of the things that he’d started doing at Haggerty to stop animals from wandering off. It was better to spend the time checking than chasing after livestock who’d gotten out.

That was especially true with sheep. Checking the fencing for downed posts was all well and good for cattle. With sheep, one had to check to make sure a sheep hadn’t gotten themselves tangled up in the fencing. There was truly never a dull moment at Quincy Home Ranch.

“See you at lunch, your highness,” Jacob said to Josephine. Josephine did her best imitation of a curtsey in return. With her little blue dress and small stature, one couldn’t help but be delighted.

“It’s chili day,” Sabrina mentioned to Jacob. The boy worked hard, and in turn, he could really eat. His face lit up.

“Cornbread?” he asked excitedly.

“Of course,” Sabrina confirmed. Jacob gave a little jump for joy before heading over to the gateway. He could see all the posts near the gate from where he stood, but he still started at the beginning of one side of the gate and walked the border of the land until he reached the other side of the gate—no shortcuts.

“Where’s Daddy?” Josephine asked. She was used to seeing Jacob and Gus together.

“He went into town,” Sabrina said. Josephine shot her a mischievous smile. Sabrina already knew what the girl was thinking. If Daddy had gone to town, that meant she was getting a treat when he returned. No matter how many times Sabrina told him he had to stop doing it, he wouldn’t.

They were going to have a spoiled rotten little child. She’d recently convinced him that if he was going to keep it up, he should at least be bringing her storybooks or little dolls and not sweets. That had improved the situation, in Sabrina’s opinion. Now when Gus returned, Josephine would either have a new book to have read to her before bedtime or a doll to play with and occupy her. The sweets only served to make Sabrina have a difficult day wrangling their rambunctious daughter.

It was easier before she’d become pregnant again. But now, she was five months into her second pregnancy and moving a bit more slowly. Their timing was just so that Josephine hit the age where she wanted to run, not walk, everywhere. Sabrina was still managing, but soon Gus would have to pick up some of the slack when it came to chasing after her.

“Okay, little lady. Time for you to nap.”

“No! Daddy!” Gus had gotten her into the indulgent habit of being put down for her nap by him. He always took the time from his day to tuck her into her bed in what used to be Sabrina’s room and place a kiss on her forehead.

“I know, sweetheart, but Daddy isn’t home.”

“No, Mama. Daddy!” Josephine repeated, pointing at the gate. Sabrina turned and saw Gus riding toward them. Sabrina smiled. Like everything about her husband, his timing was impeccable. He swung down from Stagecoach and rushed to Josephine, scooping her up and tossing her into the air. She squealed in delight as she soared up. There was no fear. She knew her daddy was going to catch her.

Gus was good that way. Reliable. He made the people around him feel safe and valued. The years spent together had done nothing to temper that quality. It was simply who he was. “If I’m not mistaken, I believe it’s nap time,” Gus informed Josephine. Josephine gave a big shake of her head. “No?” Gus asked.

“No!”

“What do you think, Mama?” Gus turned, and Sabrina loved to see that huge smile on his face. There was nothing like the love between the two of them. She placed a hand on her swollen belly. Her children were so lucky. There was never a moment that Gus wasn’t completely Josephine’s father.

If she were married to a different man, she might have worried that he would dote on their second child more since it was his own. She had no such fear with Gus. He had seemingly endless room in his heart for their family.

He carried Josephine in his arms as they led Stagecoach to the stable together. Once Stage was comfortable and fed his requisite apple, they made their way to Josephine’s bedroom. Gus produced a storybook from town, and they all settled in to listen.

Josephine was getting older, and she no longer fell asleep before the story was finished. They tucked her in, kissed her forehead, and closed the door to let her rest. Gus wrapped his arms around Sabrina once they were alone. There was still more work to be done, and he was behind on the shearing due to the mishap. But he always made the time to make sure she felt loved and appreciated.

“Hercules made those shears look like they were made for crafting. We may have to start cutting his wool more often. It’ll be stressful, but he won’t get so uncomfortable.”

“I think that’s smart,” Sabrina said, pressing a kiss to Gus’ lips. “Are Diana and Cole still coming over for dinner tonight?”

“They said they wouldn’t miss it,” Gus replied. Sabrina could only smile. She’d found the safe and comfortable home she’d been searching for.

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Hettie stood on the front steps, idly watching the clouds overhead roll by. It was a warm day by all accounts, but by now, she was used to the relentless, dry Texas heat. Actually, during her months at the Pruitt house, she had come to enjoy the blinding sunshine and the warmth it brought.

Such beautiful sunshine on a day like this felt almost like a promise. The perfect blue sky and fluffy white clouds told of good things to come; so far, it was shown to be right. After all, today was Dagger Harney’s trial, and the outcome had been better than expected. Better still, for another reason entirely.

Vince had run off to work as soon as the trial had ended, leaving them no time to discuss matters. Hettie didn’t mind, not really, because by now it had become expected of Vince to spend most of his time at the sheriff’s office. Still, the house was lonely without him, and she prayed for his quick return.

“Hettie!” a voice called from somewhere inside. “Can we finish making supper?”

At the sound of Susannah’s sweet voice, Hettie smiled. “Of course, love.” Trotting back up the stairs, Hettie took her time wandering back into the kitchen. Her feet ached from the healing blisters. The cut on her cheek hadn’t quite healed, leaving her feeling tired most days. But now, there was another reason for her to feel tired – a reason she wasn’t quite ready to admit yet. No, she needed Vince to be here for that.

Susannah stood on an old wooden stool, and she still struggled to reach the wide counter top where the half-made dinner sat. Chopped vegetables and chicken were spread all over, the whole counter a mess, but Susannah smiled proudly as she held up a knife. “See? I did it!”

Quick to sweep over and pluck the knife from her hands, Hettie only smiled. “That’s great, but perhaps we should leave the cutting to me, hmm?”

Her little face fell, but it was the sweetest thing she had ever seen. She really did take after Vince, not just for her vibrant blonde hair and intelligent eyes, either. She had the exact same frown, her thick eyebrows furrowed and lip caught between her teeth. It was so sweet that Hettie couldn’t even pretend to be upset.

She wondered, idly, if their own child would look just like Vince, too. Would they have his blond curls or Hettie’s own dark locks? His rich brown eyes or her blue ones? It was impossible to know, and yet, the thought still made her giddy.

“…Hettie?”

Blinking back to attention, Hettie beamed. “Yes, love?”

“Can we make apple pie too?”

Scooping some of the vegetables into a cooking pot, Hettie mulled it over. “Well, today is a day for celebrating, isn’t it? So, we deserve something special.”

Susannah beamed. Although she didn’t know what had happened that night of Hettie’s disappearance, she understood more than they gave her credit for. She was bright, with a sharp mind and good ears. People talked, and Susannah was bound to have heard rumors. “We deserve it because the bad man has been put away?”

Ruffling her hair, Hettie nodded. “Exactly. He hurt a lot of people and did some terrible things. But now, he’s in prison, and we’re all safe.”

Susannah nodded along, as if what Hettie had said was very wise and sensible. How much she actually understood, Hettie didn’t know, but neither she nor Vince had ever tried to hide it from her, simply sugarcoating the truth for her own peace of mind.

With chicken stew in the pot to simmer, it was time for pie. The simple act of cooking felt so domestic and so normal, and it was the one thing that kept her grounded when things got rough. Now that she and Vince were officially married, she was cooking more than ever. Trying new meals and trying to impress him, she liked to think that it was a sign they were getting back to normal – or rather, starting their new normal.

At one point, Martha popped her head in, a bright smile on her face. “Need any help, girls?”

Although she was certainly more spry on her feet than when she and Hettie met, Martha was no young woman any more. Knowing that, Hettie did her best to take the strain of chores away from Martha. Although, given Hettie’s own condition, she wouldn’t be as nimble soon, either. Shaking her head, Hettie smiled. “No, thank you. Just you relax and enjoy yourself, Martha. We can all enjoy some sweet tea once supper is prepared.”

Apparently content, Martha disappeared back into the kitchen.

A comfortable silence settled over the two as they worked. By now, they had a system. Hettie chopped and peeled the fruit while little Susannah made the pastry. They worked so well together that once Vince commented it was as if they’d been cooking together for years. Susannah had puffed out her chest proudly, and Hettie had stifled her laughter behind her sleeve.

Now, Susannah was intent on the task. She was diligent, quick, and attentive. In went flour and butter into the mixing bowl, her deft hands working expertly. Abigail had taught her well, and Hettie was honored to be allowed to continue that teaching.

“Mama used to make rhubarb pie all the time,” Susannah said, as if she had read Hettie’s mind. “She liked it sour with just a little sugar, and it went really good with fresh cream. She was friends with the milkman’s wife, and he always gave us extra.”

Hettie smiled fondly at the thought. “That was sweet of him.” They still didn’t talk about Abigail often, and Hettie never brought it up, but she loved when Susannah spoke about her mother. It was an insight into their lives, into what made them who they were now. “Was it the best rhubarb pie you ever tasted?”

Susannah wrinkled her nose, a snort of laughter leaving her throat. “No, it was horrible! But she made it, so we always pretended it was delicious.”

Hettie let out a bark of laughter at that, she couldn’t help it! She loved the mental image of Vince grimacing through a huge slice of pie, just to make her happy. She wondered, then, if he’d ever had to do the same for her own cooking. It brought another round of laughter threatening to spill from her, and she clamped her lips closed to fight back the grin.

Whatever she might have said next, however, was quickly cut off by the click of the front door. The old hinges had recently been oiled and now it drifted open silently, but Hettie had come to learn the signs of Vince’s arrival. Namely his heavy feet on the hardwood floor and the thump of his shoes as he kicked them off.

“I’m home!” he called a moment later. “So sorry I had to leave, but some things can’t wait. Jack found new evidence in the Turner case.”

Ah, the Turners. A young family who had their entire fortune of jewelry stolen in the night. It was Vince’s newest obsession, now that Harney was no longer plaguing him. Truthfully, Hettie loved that he was so devoted to work. After proving himself a worthy sheriff, he had come miles in his confidence. It was good to see him so enthusiastic.

“We don’t mind,” Hettie called from the kitchen. Apples chopped, she left Susannah to finish making the pastry. Peeking into the hall, she saw Vincent taking off his coat. “Your work is important, and you’re helping a lot of people. It’s all right that you have to dash off sometimes.”

“But so soon after the court hearing?” Vincent frowned, but it was playful. When he smiled, it was beautiful. “I promise, the rest of today will be just the four of us. A family day, to celebrate a court case won.”

The court house had been stuffy and hot, bodies pressed together and windows locked tight. It had been awful, seeing Harney again, but it had been worth it just to see his awful face when he had been sentenced. Even now, she hardly believed it was true.

Vince wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips. “Regardless, Harney won’t be getting out for a long time yet. If ever. Doesn’t that feel good to say?”

Hettie grinned up at him. It did feel good. Amazing, in fact, to know that justice had been served. To know that her family were safe. Unable to hide her grin, Hettie leaned up to kiss him softly. It was brief, knowing that Susannah was just one room away, but she still enjoyed the lingering feel of his soft lips on hers. “Today has been a brilliant day for all of us,” she agreed. “The guilty verdict is fantastic news. But,” she hesitated, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “I have other news, too.”

“Oh?” Vince quirked a brow, a smile spreading across his lips. “What kind of news?”

“The kind that’s best told in front of everybody.”

Vince’s eyes sparked with intrigue, lips pulled back into a curious smile. “All right,” he replied slowly. “Then I’ll fetch Susannah.”

“I’ll wait for you in the living room.”

They parted ways long enough for Vince to fetch Susannah, in which time Hettie settled awkwardly on the edge of her favorite armchair. She shifted anxiously, feeling the worry build up in her chest. What if this was wrong? What if Vince didn’t want this, and she had just ruined it for everyone? She had tried not to think about it all day – all week, really – and now it was time to finally tell, Hettie wasn’t sure she wanted to.

Too late to turn back, because Vince slipped into the room with Susannah in tow. Susannah proceeded to plop herself down on the sofa, big eyes turned to Hettie. “Papa said you had something to tell us? Is it good?”

Nervously, her eyes flickered to Vince. “I hope so,” she replied quietly, “but that’s up to you all to decide.”

Martha, who had been unusually quiet up until this point, sent Hettie a knowing smile. It was the kind of smile a mother might send her daughter. As if to say I know what’s going on. It was meant to reassure, to say I understand, and it sent a little flurry of relief through Hettie’s chest.

Vince didn’t sit, instead choosing to linger by the fireplace. Although she had learned it was almost always unlit, he seemed to like standing there when he was unsure. Like a nervous habit.

Well, there was nothing for it now. If she could stand up in court and relay her trauma to a room full of people, she could tell her family this one simple thing. Except it wasn’t so simple, not really. It was life-changing. Swallowing thickly, Hettie uttered, “I think I’m pregnant.” Then a pause, and she shook her head. “No, that’s not right. I know I am.”

Silence filled the room. It was thick and tense. Awkward. Nobody spoke, or so much as breathed, and Hettie began to worry that it had all been a mistake.

Then Susannah leapt to her feet, all but throwing herself at Hettie in her eagerness. “I’m going to have a little sister?” she gasped.

And just like that, the tension broke. Relief flooded her, and Hettie bit back a laugh as she scooped Susannah into her arms. “A sister, maybe. Or a brother. Which would you prefer?”

“A sister, definitely. Boys are mean!”

Laughter erupted throughout the room – even Vince was grinning. It was the most beautiful thing that Hettie had ever seen. For a moment, everything else melted into the background. She had worried that he wouldn’t want this; but seeing him now, the delight clear on his face, made her heart melt. How had she ever been worried?

Before she had the chance to say another word, Vince was on his feet. He scooped Susannah up, smiling when she giggled, before setting her aside. Then he held out a hand for Hettie, his expression turning soft. “Do you mean it?” he asked, as if he couldn’t believe it was real.

“Of course,” she replied, “I’ve thought so for a while, but I didn’t want to say until I was sure. Now, I am.”

Vince embraced her, his arms gentle yet strong as he scooped her up. She was pulled effortlessly to her feet by the tight embrace, head buried in his shoulder, and Vince kissed the top of her head with a sigh. “I didn’t think this would happen for us – at least, not so quickly. Some couples try for years.”

“We’re just lucky, I suppose,” she answered fondly. Her voice was muffled by the way she was pressed into him, but she didn’t want to break this embrace for anything. If Hettie could have stayed in his arms like this forever, she would have been happy. Squeezing closer – if such a thing was even possible – she let out a content sigh. “I know it’s sudden, but I didn’t know how much I wanted this until it happened.”

“Neither did I,” Vince admitted quietly, “but doesn’t it just feel so right?”

It did. It felt wonderful. A child of their own, a child they could watch grow up together. A sibling for Susannah, too, who was still grinning at them as if Christmas had come early. Hettie loved Susannah like her very own daughter, and she was delighted that she was happy, too.

When they finally parted, it was with reluctance. Hettie straightened out her hair, a faint flush covering her features. She had finally developed that rich Texan tan, and she only hoped it covered some of her blush from view. “I know it’s early, but I’ve been thinking about names,” she said finally.

“Just don’t call it Martha,” Martha interjected with a grin, “you can’t name any children after me until I’m already gone.”

“There can only be one in this house,” Vince replied fondly.

Hettie smiled. She hadn’t been thinking of naming it Martha at all – as a middle name, perhaps. Hesitantly, she voiced her idea. “Jack, for a boy. He’s done so much for me, and he helped save me from Harney. It’s only right he gets a mention.” Still playing with that one loose strand of hair, she cast her gaze aside. “For a girl, I was thinking Abigail. If you think it’s strange, just let me know. I don’t want to cross a line-”

“Abigail sounds perfect,” Vince replied, his voice heavy with emotion. Yet, when Hettie looked at him, his eyes were bright with joy.

They kissed again, and this time Hettie didn’t care who saw.

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Two months had passed since the unforgettable wedding of Cat and Steve Priddy. Life on the homestead continued to thrive as more and more men wanted to work with Steve on the ranch.

Steve’s dreams of wild horse breeding were becoming a reality. He had managed to acquire enough stock and break them into manageable horses to become one of the most widely known breeding ranches in the country.

“Hey, Boss! Just got another telegram. This one’s from a cattle rancher in Texas. He’ll be here in a week to check the stock and place an order.”

“Oh, boy! You hear that my little one?” Cat said. “Dada is becoming a famous horseman. People are coming from all over to see what he’s created.” Cat smiled over at her son who sat at the table practicing his penmanship.

“Wow! Dada! That’s amazing! I wanna be just like you when I grow up,” Tommy said. “Can you teach me how to ride? I wanna ride a horse like you and Uncle Jed do.”

Cat saw the joy shining brightly in her husband’s eyes. “You bet I’ll show you how to ride, partner,” Steve said.

“I think I’ve got the right horse out there just waitin’ for you to climb on his back,” Jed said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Mama Cat? Can I go ride? Dada said he would teach me, and Uncle Jed’s got me a horse!” Tommy sounded so grown up. Cat could hardly believe it had only been six months since he turned three. She stepped over from her large stove and kissed Tommy on his cheek.

“Yes, my darling. You can go ride on your new horse. We’ll finish your writing lessons before supper tonight.”

The young boy jumped from his seat and ran out the door. “Yeah! I’m so excited! C’mon, dada! C’mon Uncle Jed!”

Steve rose from his seat at the table and crossed over to where Cat stood beaming from ear to ear.

“He gets more and more like you every day.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you act exactly like that every time you find a new herd to bring home,” Cat said. “You’ll always be a boy at heart, my love.” Cat leaned up on her tippy-toes and kissed Steve. “Now, you boys go have fun, and I’ll get lunch ready. How about a picnic? Shouldn’t take me long to get things put together.”

Steve kissed her back. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, my love. It’ll give us plenty of time for a first lesson. I don’t want him thinking he can run and jump with the horse all on his own first thing out of the gate.”

“You know that’s the first thing he’ll want to do.” Steve and Cat shared a deep laugh with each other. Every day kept getting more and more enjoyable together as a family.

Cat had finished preparing a delicious meal for their picnic when Honey stepped into the kitchen. “Are they gone?” she asked.

Cat turned her head as she continued to work. “They’re outside teaching Tommy how to ride.” She studied Honey’s face. “Alright, you. Out with it. What’s going on?”

Honey shrugged her shoulders and sat down at the table. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Cat.” She grabbed a cookie off the plate in the middle of the table.

Cat spun around, leaned against the counter, and crossed her arms. “Honey. Do you really think after all this time I don’t know how to read you? I’ve only been your sister for two months, but I’ve been your best friend for longer than that.”

Honey took a bite of cookie.

“Alright, you’re going to make me guess.” Cat wiped her hands on her apron and sat down at the table with her. “It’s obviously something to do with the men. Hmmm, let’s see… Steve hasn’t said anything to offend you lately, has he?”

Honey glanced up and then glanced away.

“Okay. Steve’s not the issue. Then it must be…,” Cat shifted her eyes teasingly as Honey tried to avoid her gaze.

“Please, Cat. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh boy, this calls for a fresh pot of coffee.” Cat started her kettle and sat back down. “Now. What’s going on with you and Jed?”

Honey ran her fingers through her hair. “Oh, Cat! I don’t know what to do! Every time I think about him, my palms start to sweat. And it’s worse whenever I see him. Ever since that dance at the wedding, I can’t get the man out of my head and away from my heart. I’m completely hopeless at school. When I’m supposed to be focusing on my studies, I can only focus on the memory of his face!” Honey let out a sigh. “He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. He’s smart and caring, but he is also strong and not afraid of anything. When we’re around each other, it’s as if nothing and no one else exists. I don’t know what to do, Cat.”

“Oh, Honey. I do believe you have fallen in love. It sounds to me like you have found the man of your dreams.” Cat smiled broadly. “And you’re only six months away from finishing school. It’s everything you ever wanted, Honey.”

She shook her head.

“What is it, dearest?”

“It’s Steve,” she said.

“What about Steve?” Cat rose and fixed them both a hot cup of coffee. She carried the cream and sugar cubes to the table.

“He’ll never let me have a relationship with Jed. And marriage is completely out of the question!”

“What makes you say that?” She set the coffee in front of Honey and sat down in her chair.

“You see what kind of stock Jed comes from. He’s got no family. No house. He works for my brother and has no plans of building anything for himself.”

Cat took a sip, pondering her thoughts. “I think you’re not giving Steve a chance, Honey. I think you’re remembering the old Steve. You’re forgetting that he knows what it’s like to find that one perfect person you’ve been longing for all of your life.”

Honey simply listened.

“And you forget that Steve made Jed foreman over his entire ranch after only two months of working here,” Cat continued. “Actions speak louder than words, Honey. And I see the way Jed looks at you. I saw it that day of our wedding celebration.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm. It’s okay to dream, Honey. It’s okay to start planning. Because I have no doubt that in another year, you and Jed will have a home of your own.”

***

A few weeks later, Steve and Cat sat together on the sofa in front of the crackling fire. They had spent the majority of the day entertaining buyers for the next round of stock to be broken and bred.

“Did you ever think we would be so blessed, Cat, my love?”

She laid her head back on his shoulder. “I knew that the Lord was on our side,” she said. “It just took us a little bit to catch up to where He wanted us.”

“I don’t know if there’s anything else He could give us that could make us any happier than we are right now.”

Cat smiled, picked up Steve’s hand, and placed it on her stomach. “I think there’s one more thing.”

After a moment, Cat tilted her head up and watched his face for the realization to appear.

And there it was.

“Are you really, my darling?” Steve’s eyes widened.

“Mmhm. We’re going to have a baby!”

“Oh, Cat! You continue to make me the happiest man in the entire world! Oh, darling!” Steve kissed her over and over. “Oh, Cat, I love you, I love you, I love you!”

Cat’s heart overflowed. She had finally found her forever.

“And I love you.”

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Cole grinned as Gus dismounted. “Let’s get that sweet horse of yours into the barn.”

“Ah, the paddock’s good enough for him.” Gus patted Cole’s back. “He doesn’t like being cooped up much, and he had to put up with it all winter long.  He’ll be happy as anything just running around and nibbling on the grass.”

“If you say so.” Cole led Gus’ beautiful black horse toward the paddock instead of the barn.  Gus did know his horse best, after all.  “How are things going over at the Quincy Ranch?”

“Things are going great now that calving season is over.”  He made a face. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m beyond happy to have increased my herd like that.  But—well, you know.  Calving season is a bear.”

“That it is.”  Together they managed to get the saddle off the horse and rubbed him down. He promptly rolled in the green grass and ran around the enclosure as fast as he could.

“I see what you mean about him being a bit wild still.” Cole laughed at the horse’s antics.

“We’re well-suited to each other.” Gus’s smile was gentle. “I still can’t believe I ever came from New York City. This land is in my bones, you know?”

Cole snorted. “Well, you were pretty sickly when you came. Maybe this really is where you were meant to be. And I’m glad you’re here, personally.”

“You and me both.” Gus watched the horse again. “I’m thinking of adding sheep to the mix.”

Cole did a double take. “Sheep? Why?”

“Wool. You know what they say about not putting all your eggs in one basket, right? I figure if the beef market dries up, people will still want wool.  And if the wool market goes south then I’ll still have the beef.” He grinned, but Cole thought he looked a little anxious.

“Sounds like genius to me.”  Cole wasn’t the type to puff someone up. He fully believed in Gus’s plan. “Wish I’d thought of it.”

“Ah, you’re just saying that.”

“Nope. I really do. I think you should go for it.  I think you should also make sure to bring on a ranch hand who knows how to shear a sheep.”

Gus laughed so loud even his horse stopped frolicking. “That’s a mighty good point, Cole. Let’s head inside to check on Diana. I know you don’t like to be too far away from her right now.”

“It’s true.  She says she’s fine, but I’m not sure what to believe.”  He shuddered. “I know I wouldn’t be fine if I was in her condition. But I suppose that’s why we’re built differently.”

“And I for one am grateful for it.”  Gus led the way to the house.

They found Diana in her kitchen, as usual.  She was hard at work kneading bread dough, but when the men entered, she patted the dough into a shape and covered it with a cloth.  She brightened up the dark kitchen with her radiance as she slowly waddled over to the washstand and scrubbed her hands.

“Give me a second, and I can properly greet you both.” She smiled at them, dazzling Cole, and then dried her hands on a dishtowel. Then she walked back over to the men and hugged Gus. “I’m so glad to see you!”

Cole got a hug too. His was longer, and he could feel their baby kicking as her belly pressed up against him. It was such a strange sensation, one he couldn’t quite describe. It filled him with pride to know he’d created this thing within her, but he also worried. Childbirth was a fraught time for all women, but out here there was no one to help if things went bad.  The nearest doctor was in Fargo, and it would take days to bring him back to Spring Sky.

Diana smiled up at him before pulling back.  It was almost as if she could read his mind, and who knew? Maybe she could. “Let’s sit down in the parlor.  I’ll bring coffee and muffins.”

Cole and Gus moved into the parlor, and Diana followed a moment later with a tray of treats. She set it down and took a seat on the sofa beside Cole. “You look great, Gus.  How are things going out on the new place?”

“They’re going pretty well if I do say so myself.” Gus shone with quiet pride. “Food is kind of an issue, but one of my guys used to be a cook in the Union Army, so that’s something, at least.”

“Wow, lucky for you.” Cole put his arm around Diana’s shoulders. “So, one meal out of every four comes out edible?”

“Pretty much.” Gus shrugged. “It’s a start.”

“You could always get married.” Diana’s eyes danced with mirth. “It has its benefits, you know.”

“There aren’t a ton of eligible ladies in the area, in case you hadn’t noticed.” Gus rolled his eyes, but he never lost his grin. “Plenty of men moving into Spring Sky. Not a whole lot of single women.”

“There’s a simple solution. I mean I seem to recall someone deciding to take the bull by the horns when I was the one in need of a wife. Maybe you just need a little push.” Cole raised his eyebrows.

“A few words in the paper back in New York should do it. Or Boston, or Philadelphia.” Diana rested her hand on her belly. Young Christian rancher seeks bride. Must be able to cook. Serious inquiries only.” She was already laughing.

“Don’t worry.” Cole couldn’t keep a straight face while his wife laughed too. “We’ll go through all the letters for you. All you have to do is show up. The rest will take care of itself.”

Gus laughed. “Now now. You know it’s not the same.”

“I don’t know, turnabout is fair play.”  Diana turned her head to face Cole. “And I have to say, the results have been amazing. I couldn’t have imagined myself happier if I wrote myself into a fairy tale.”

“I’m your Prince Charming in boots and a ten-gallon hat.” Cole took her hand and squeezed it. “And you’re my princess.” He turned to look at Gus.  “You know what? I can’t think of a better way to find a wife. I’m the happiest man in the world, but you’d probably be almost as happy.”

Gus wouldn’t find anyone like Diana.  She was unique, and she was Cole’s. Looking down at her sitting in their parlor, carrying his baby, in their home, Cole couldn’t have wished for more.

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