Chapter 5

5

B ruce wanted to assure Stella she didn't need to look so wary. So tense. He half thought of touching her to let her know he cared how she felt, but he wondered if she would jump like a frog. Causing her to do so would be unkind. He'd seen and experienced enough unkindness to never want to be responsible for inflicting it.

"Let's unload the wagon as we talk." Keeping on the move would surely drive away some of the tension in her.

She followed him outside. He gave her a box of supplies and carried in a larger one. They crowded into the narrow pantry and began filling the shelves.

"What sort of rules do you want?" she asked.

"I hadn't thought of rules. All that matters to me is that Aunt Mary is cared for. I owe her so much." His voice deepened. "If not for her, I don't know where I'd be or how things would have turned out."

Stella emptied her box and began to lift items from his. "We were clear about that. And about you helping with the farm. Until I got sick, I was taking care of it on my own after Frank died."

Now seemed like a good time to learn more about that. "How did he die, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Pneumonia, a year ago."

"I'm sorry. It must have been tough for you."

"One of the hardest things was not having a preacher here. The Kinsleys hadn't arrived yet. Neighbors were farther apart then too. Norm White learned of my situation and sent some of the good people from town to help lay him away. There were already plans for the new church, so at least he is in the graveyard there."

Her hands had grown idle. Her gaze went to the distance. Bruce understood she was seeing into her past.

"Did you think of leaving the homestead? Perhaps moving into town?"

Her gaze hit him with enough force to make him settle back on his heels. "This is my home. I intend to keep it." She swallowed visibly, seemed to pull her thoughts back. "With your help. That's all I want."

This had all been discussed prior to their marriage.

Her brown eyes probed his gaze. He wasn't sure what she sought or if he could offer it. "We're new to this. I can't say what things we will disagree on. Or if I'll disappoint you. Let's agree to address issues as they arise. If something bothers you, or you aren't happy with something I've done, I'd just as soon you told me. My experience had led me to believe that things kept hidden eventually break loose, and it's not usually in a nice way." He couldn't have explained to anyone why he had given such a long speech about a simple discussion. Thankfully, she didn't ask for more detail.

"I like that. We can discuss problems as they arise." She put the last item on the shelf, and they returned to the wagon. "Only one thing I need to make clear."

He waited, wondering what expectations were going to be thrust upon him.

"I'd like to be kept informed."

"Of what?"

"Everything and anything. This is now your farm, but it's mine too. If there is something amiss, or a change of any sort, I need to know about it."

"Do you think I can't manage on my own?"

"Not at all. Besides, how would I know that?" Her eyes narrowed. "Unless you're meaning to warn me of something?" She waited, but he had nothing to say to that. "Fine. I want to be involved in the farming. After Frank died, I had to learn all sorts of things by trial and error. I prefer to be better informed this time."

"This time?" He shuddered. "You're expecting me to die?" Didn't she say her husband had died of pneumonia? Had anyone verified that? Had he married a black widow?

She chuckled.

He did not, as he tried to think if there was any malice in her amusement. He couldn't tell.

"I simply want to be able to stand on my own should the need arise."

"Now hold on a minute. We've been married less than four hours, and you're already eliminating me from the scene. What's going on?"

She laughed, the sound so merry that he almost smiled in enjoyment. Might have except for her talk of managing on her own. Where did she think he would be?

"I guess you deserve an explanation."

"I would say so."

"My pa was a wanderer. I can't count the number of times he promised ‘this will be the last time we move,' but it never was. They are still on the move." Her eyes narrowed as she studied him, her gaze going up and down his length.

What did she see? Or think she saw? "What has that to do with me?"

"You'll forgive me if I wonder how long you'll stay. That's why I want to learn how to do things for myself."

"Forgive you? How long I'll stay? Does my word mean nothing?"

"I don't know." Her gaze bored a hole clear through his brain. "Does it?"

He grabbed the box and headed outside.

She followed. "Does it?"

"There are many who think it doesn't solely because I am an orphan who was found wandering the streets. An urchin, I was called. And we all know that urchins are thieves and liars."

"I didn't say that." Her words rang with protest.

"You might as well have."

She hurried to get in front of him and stopped to face him, forcing him to stop too. "I am speaking only from my experience. But I think I have the right to reserve judgement. Just as you do."

He held her rock-hard gaze unblinkingly. "There is truth in the fact that we must learn about each other, but I hoped we could start out with a little trust. A little faith in each other."

"‘Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.'" Her voice grew quiet. "That's a Bible verse."

"I'm aware of that. I've attended church regularly since Aunt Mary took me in. More importantly, she taught me the scriptures."

"You're asking me to have faith in you when I don't know you."

He shrugged. "Guess that's too much to ask. I'd settle for at least giving me a chance without prejudice."

Her shoulders bowed forward. "I guess I am guilty of that. I'm sorry. Can we start again?"

"Gladly." This might prove to be a more difficult task than he anticipated. But no one had forced him to agree to the arrangement, and he meant to give it his very best.

"I judged you by my pa, and that wasn't fair."

They searched each other's eyes. He wished he could guess her thoughts. But one thing troubled him. "What about Frank? Was he like your pa?"

She shrugged, though her expression was one of confusion, not indifference. "He died. I know it wasn't his fault, but it's the worst sort of leaving, wouldn't you say?"

"It is indeed." Bruce had been left by his parents. Left homeless. Left to manage on his own.

She seemed to understand. "Seems we both need to know we're safe."

He liked that. Feeling like they had reached an agreement, he returned to the wagon and picked up a few items of clothing. "These are mine."

"Where are the children?" She glanced around. "Oh, there they are, by the corrals. I wonder what sort of stories Donny is telling Blossom." Stella studied her children and smiled. "I'll show you to your room."

He followed her into the small room beside his aunt's.

"It isn't much." Stella sounded apologetic.

"It's fine." A narrow cot. A low dresser and a table by the bed. He hung his clothes on nearby pegs.

Stella watched.

He crossed his arms and faced her. If she wanted to say something, he was prepared to listen.

"This was the right thing to do."

He couldn't tell if she voiced doubts or not. "Are you having second thoughts?" He'd had a few in the last hour. Not that they would be allowed to control his actions or choices.

She smiled. He would guess she felt rather pleased with things. "Not at the moment, but I'm sure I shall from time to time."

"Fair enough."

"You likely will too." Her expression hardened.

"I made a choice, and I intend to stick to it."

"Good to hear." She turned on her heel and left him staring at the empty doorway. Why did words that should have made him feel like they were in agreement instead make him feel like he'd been warned? He would have asked her, but the children came inside.

"Mama, when are we getting the cows? And the cats? And the chickens?" Donny asked.

"Want kitties. Want chickens." Blossom echoed her brother.

"I can't rightly say. We need a chance to settle in." She hurried to the kitchen and rattled pots on the stove.

"I'll look after the horses and have a look around," Bruce said. "Who wants to help me?"

The children rushed after him. Blossom tripped on his heels, and he caught her hand. They walked side by side to the wagon. He lifted them both to the seat and led the team to the barn, where he unhitched them and took them inside to groom them. Done with that, he brought in his riding horse, Smokey, who had patiently followed the wagon these last few days.

He brushed the horses and turned them out to graze in the nearby pasture then returned to have a look around this place that was now partly his. The barn was small. Only four stalls and a tack room. He stood in the doorway studying the harnesses and tools. Well-equipped and tidy. He turned his attention to the stalls. The first three he checked were clean. Had Stella done that or the neighbor she'd mentioned? Kade, if he remembered correctly. In the last stall, hay had been trampled to smoothness. Almost like a nest. Strange that this pen wasn't as clean as the others, and yet it wasn't soiled. Oh well. He'd take care of it later. Right now he wanted to take the hoops and canvas off the wagon and store them inside, out of the elements. Then he'd have a look around and see what needed to be done.

Smoke filled the house.

"Are we on fire," Aunt Mary called from her room.

"I didn't think to check the chimney." Stella tossed a rug against the bottom of Aunt Mary's door. "That should keep most of it out of your room. Holler if it's not enough." She pushed aside the wood from the smoking fire and rushed about opening windows and the door. She coughed. What was wrong with her? She should have known some bird would have used the chimney for a nest in the months she'd been away.

Her eyes streamed tears as she flapped a towel to chase the smoke out the open door.

Bruce clattered into the house. "What's on fire? You children stay outside."

"The chimney must be blocked." She coughed again. And again.

"Aunt Mary?"

"I'm okay." The woman didn't cough, so Stella knew the smoke wasn't too bad in her room.

Stella's throat choked with the fumes. She couldn't stop coughing. Tears flowed freely.

"You might as well wait outside for the smoke to clear." Bruce caught her hand and pulled her into the fresh air.

"Mama, you all right?" Blossom asked.

"It's just smoke," Donny assured his little sister.

Stella dried her eyes on her apron and could finally breathe without coughing. "That was foolish of me. I should have thought to check the chimney."

"No harm done. As soon as it cools, I'll climb up there and see what's blocking it."

"Thanks." At least he didn't scold her. She appreciated that but wasn't sure how to say so. Perhaps there wasn't need to say anything.

She looked around at her farm and let the satisfaction of being back home settle into her bones. "I don't suppose you've had time to explore the place."

"Not yet. The barn is pretty clean. Either you left it that way or your neighbor has taken care of it."

"I expect it's a little of both. I can't rightly recall the last few days I was here." She looked to see that the children were out of hearing. "Except for the bitter cold and my fear we would all die. I was too weak to bring in wood or make a meal. A three-day storm had blown in. So cold." She shivered as the awful memory of those days surfaced.

"You're all alive and well. Your pantry is full. I'll make sure there is a good supply of firewood. Together we can make sure you never have to live through such an experience again."

His reassurance eased away her dark, painful memories. "‘Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour.'" She gave a dry chuckle. "I've never been one to quote Bible verses. It must be from spending so much time at the preacher's house."

"Two are better than one. I like that." His eyes darkened. She was beginning to understand they did that when he was thinking deeply. "Isn't there more to it? Something about a threefold cord not being easily broken?"

"That's right." Did he know what made the third strand?

"Our partnership is together with God."

Something warm and satisfying eased through her. "I like the idea of God being in partnership with us."

He nodded, his eyes lightening to the color of sun-lit water. "Might be He should be more than a partner. Seems He should be the boss."

"I agree." They studied each other. She liked his suggestion. Deciding to let God be in control gave her the assurance that no matter what happened, she would be all right. Hadn't she known that all along? Of course, she had. But she needed frequent reminders.

"The smoke has about cleared. I'll see to the chimney."

"There's a ladder in the barn."

"I saw it." He was already on his way across the yard.

She watched him. He walked with long, distance-eating strides. Confident. As if all was right with his world. She considered that idea. It was as Donny had said. God had made a way for her to return to the farm. She would not look any further than that. Glancing about to see the children played under a nearby tree, she returned to the house and checked on Aunt Mary.

"I'm fine," the older woman said, barely able to open her eyes.

"Rest while I get myself organized." She slipped from the room and returned to the kitchen area. But there was little she could do until she could get a fire going in the stove.

From where she stood, she watched Bruce cross the yard carrying a ladder. He leaned it against the house and climbed it.

She closed the stove to keep any dust and ashes from blowing out.

His footsteps thudded across the roof, and the stove pipes shook as he examined the chimney.

"A bird's nest." His voice echoed from the pipes. "I'm being attacked by some angry magpies. Ouch. Go away. Crazy birds."

Debris fell past the kitchen window. The remnants of a nest.

"I'll jab something down to make sure there's nothing more."

The stove pipes clanged and rattled as he did so.

"I think that's got it." His steps thudded back across the roof, and he descended the ladder and came to the door. "Try that and see if it's going to work."

She already had the wood laid, and she set a match to it. "It's drawing just fine. Thank you."

"Not a problem. Do you need anything else?"

"Not at the moment."

"Then I'm going to look around and see what needs to be done. I'll take Donny and Blossom with me if that meets your approval."

"It does. Thank you." Seems she was saying that a lot. "Dinner will be ready in an hour or so." She smiled as she turned her attention to making the meal. It felt good to have someone to share the work with.

She put a mixture of vegetables to cook for soup and heated water, thinking to make tea for Aunt Mary, but when she glanced in the doorway, the woman was asleep.

It was too late in the season to plant a garden, but perhaps a few things had come up on their own. She couldn't wait to check. She slipped from the house and paused to fill her lungs with the joy of being back in her own place. The mountains rose to the west, blue and green layers of majesty. The river flowed nearby, far enough away to not be a danger to the children. She couldn't see the water, but the line of green trees marked its passage. Kade had planted oats and wheat in her tiny fields, and the crops were about to head out, giving the green crops a silvery tip. Bruce stood at the edge of the wheat field, Blossom in his arms, Donny talking to him.

She watched them a moment. It pleased her to see the children so taken with Bruce. For the moment, she wouldn't worry herself with thoughts of him leaving and how that would affect them all. For now, he was here, and that was all that mattered.

She continued to the little fenced plot where she'd grown a garden for two years. Even before she opened the gate, she saw rows of potatoes, carrots, beets, and beans. Kade and Flora had planted a garden here. They hadn't mentioned it. Had they done it for her or themselves? The latter didn't make any sense. They would have a garden at their place. They had to have done it for her. How generous and kind of them.

She examined the rows. It wasn't a large area, but not a weed existed. They had put far too much work into a garden for her, but she surely did appreciate it. She would add beet greens to the soup. She broke off a handful of leaves before she left the garden.

The first year here, she had planted raspberries next to the garden fence. Perhaps there would be berries on them. A few hard, unripe berries clung to the bushes but otherwise, they were picked clean.

"Strange," she murmured. Perhaps a bear had enjoyed the fruit. She glanced around even though she expected the noise of their return would have frightened off any animal. Seeing nothing to concern her, she studied the ground. The grass had been trampled, but she couldn't make out any prints to indicate a bear. An object in the grass caught her attention, and she bent to pick it up. A bit of leather with beads arranged in a colorful pattern. She recognized it as something natives made. Had they been here? Were they still here? She squinted as she scanned the surroundings. Her nerves tingled with uncertainty. She'd always felt safe on the farm even after Frank died, but this little object made her wonder if she should be concerned.

Of course not. She pocketed the decorated piece of leather. One or more of the natives had ventured by, discovered the place empty, and enjoyed the berries that were going to waste. Then they had moved on.

But she couldn't help glancing in every direction, her gaze lingering on the horizon. The skin on the back of her neck prickled. Was someone out there somewhere, watching her every move?