Chapter Five

The Texas sun boredown on Deborah as she hesitated outside the barn, her fingers fumbling with a strand of brown hair that had escaped her practical bun. She took a tentative step forward, only to retreat once more. This was Aaron's barn, and she had to wonder how he'd feel if she walked inside.

"Come on, Deborah," she whispered to herself. With each timid approach toward the ranch chores that awaited, memories of her past life beckoned, filled with the clinking of store bells and the soft murmur of yarn between her fingers.

Deborah"s blue eyes, usually calm pools reflecting her inner tranquility, now shimmered with the glaze of homesickness as she thought of Cassie. Oh, how she missed those long afternoons spent in the comforting embrace of her best friend"s laughter, the way Cassie could turn any chore into a moment of joy. Together, they had weathered the uncertainty. Without her, Deborah felt alone.

She longed for the simple routines, the easy camaraderie shared with her sisters in the cozy rooms of their childhood home, where every creak of the floorboards was familiar, every window framed with the delicate curtains they had sewn together.

"Nothing"s right," Deborah murmured, the sound barely carrying beyond the confines of her parched lips. She pictured Cassie"s knowing smile, imagined her gentle nudge pushing Deborah beyond the comfort of knitting needles and into the unknown ranch life.

"Hey, just take it one day at a time," Cassie would say. But Cassie"s voice felt miles away now, and the weight of solitude pressed heavily upon Deborah"s slender shoulders.

With a sigh, she picked up a small bucket meant for feeding the chickens. As she walked toward the coop, she couldn"t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this new world could one day feel like home too.

Deborah hesitated at the threshold of the chicken coop. Her gaze drifted over the vast expanse of Aaron"s land, each acre unfamiliar and daunting. She could almost hear the chickens clucking impatiently, but it was another sound that caught her attention—a set of heavy footsteps approaching from behind.

"Mind if I join you?" The deep voice was tinged with warmth.

She turned to see Aaron striding toward her. A soft smile tugged at the corners of her lips, a reflex she didn"t know she still possessed.

"Of course not," Deborah replied. "I"m afraid I"m not much good with chickens."

Aaron"s chuckle rumbled through the air, disarming in its sincerity. "Well, you"re in luck. Chickens happen to be one of my specialties."

Together, they walked into the coop, the hens scattering with flaps and feathers. Aaron reached down and expertly scooped up a handful of feed, scattering it with practiced ease. Deborah had always been on cleaning duty back at the foundling home. It was rare for her to be sent out to care for any of the animals.

"See? Just like this," he said, gently guiding her hand to mimic his. "They"re just hungry is all."

"Everything here is so... different," she confided, finding courage in his steady gaze.

"New beginnings often are," he mused, leaning against the wooden fence. "But you"re not alone, Deborah. Remember that."

"Sometimes it feels that way," she admitted. "Back home, I knew who I was. Here, I feel like a piece of a puzzle that doesn't quite fit."

"Give it time," Aaron encouraged. "You"ll find your place here, I promise. Texas has a way of growing on you."

"Did it grow on you?" Deborah asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Born and raised under this big old sky," Aaron said, sweeping his arm across the horizon. "But even I had to find my footing when I took over the ranch. It"s not about the land, Deborah. It's about the life you build on it."

"Life seems so..." She paused, searching for the right words. "Big here."

"Big can be good. Means there"s room to grow. And I hope we"ll do just that. Together."

"Thank" —she swallowed against the lump in her throat— "thank you, Aaron."

"Anytime," he replied with a nod, his gentle giant reputation evident in the kindness of his actions.

As they finished with the chickens, Deborah felt a tiny seed of hope taking root within her. Perhaps, with Aaron by her side, she could learn to navigate this vast new world. And maybe, just maybe, she could call it home.

*****

DEBORAH SAT ON THEporch steps, the wooden planks warm beneath her as the late afternoon sun dipped toward the horizon. She watched Aaron stride across the yard, a lasso coiled in his hand and a wide-brimmed hat shielding his eyes from the waning light. He caught her gaze and tipped his hat with a smile.

"Evening, Deborah. How about a quick lesson before supper?" he called out.

"Lesson in what?" she asked, a flutter of nerves in her belly.

"Roping. You never know when it might come in handy," Aaron replied with a chuckle.

She hesitated, but his encouraging nod coaxed her to her feet. The rope felt strange and heavy in her hands, but with Aaron"s patient guidance, she began to mimic his movements. Loop by loop, her throws improved, and each time the lasso landed closer to the target—a fence post patiently playing the part of a steer.

"Look at that! You"re a natural." Aaron"s praise was genuine, and she felt a swell of pride.

"Thank you, Aaron. It's... nice to feel useful," Deborah said, the words coming easier than they used to.

"More than useful. You're part of this ranch now," he assured her.

Later, under the soft glow of the oil lamp, Deborah"s fingers worked the knitting needles with practiced ease. The rhythmic clicking was a soothing counterpoint to the chirping of the crickets outside. A pair of socks began to take shape, their pattern familiar and comforting.

"Knitting again?" Aaron"s voice was soft as he joined her on the porch.

"Always helps me think," Deborah admitted without looking up.

"What're you thinking about?" he asked, leaning back in his chair with a creak of wood.

"Home. Family. How things change," she said, a wistful note in her voice.

"Change can be good," Aaron offered, reaching over to gently touch the emerging sock. "Like these socks. Warm, dependable. Like you."

Deborah met his gaze then, her blue eyes shining in the lamplight. "Dependable is a nice thing to be," she mused.

"Best thing," Aaron agreed. "Means you can count on something. Or someone."

"Like counting on the sun to rise," she added, the corners of her mouth lifting in a small, contented smile.

"Exactly like that," Aaron affirmed.

In the quiet companionship, Deborah found an unexpected sense of peace. For the first time since arriving in Texas, she felt her old and new lives intertwining. It was a comforting thought.

*****

THE DUSTY PATH TO THEneighboring ranch was a far cry from the well-trodden roads back home, and Deborah couldn"t help but feel a flutter of nervousness in her belly. Beside her, Aaron walked with an ease that came from years of striding across these lands, his boots kicking up little clouds behind him.

"I just want to spend a minute visiting the Daileys," he said, a twinkle in his eye. "No matter when you stop by there, they always have some kind of sweet treat waiting, so I try to stop by often."

Deborah managed a shy smile, her hands clasped together in front of her simple cotton dress. She had yet to meet most of their neighbors, and the thought both excited and unnerved her.

"Sounds lovely," she murmured.

Aaron glanced at her, noticing her tension, and slowed his pace to match hers more closely. "You"ll fit right in, Deb. Just be your sweet self."

When they arrived, Susan, Elizabeth's sister, greeted them with open arms, enveloping Deborah in a hug that was surprisingly strong. The warmth of her welcome melted some of the ice around Deborah"s heart.

"Come on in! I thought you two would get along well!" Susan ushered them inside, where the smell of baked goods and the sound of friendly chatter filled the air.

As the afternoon wore on, Deborah found herself swept into the activities of the ranch. She helped collect eggs from the chicken coop, laughing softly when a hen pecked gently at her hand, and the others praised her for being a natural.

"See? You"re a proper rancher"s wife now," Aaron said, pride evident in his voice.

The following Sunday, as the church bell rang clear through the morning air, Deborah felt the gentle squeeze of Aaron"s hand as they stepped inside. Her sisters were there, all smiles and Sunday dresses. Cassie, with her warm brown eyes, rushed forward and wrapped Deborah in an embrace.

"Missed you every day," Cassie whispered, holding on tight.

"Me too," Deborah replied, her voice thick with emotion. They pulled back, and she saw the understanding in Cassie"s gaze.

As days turned into, Deborah"s initial trepidation gave way to a quiet confidence. She learned the names of the ranch hands, could saddle a horse with practiced ease, and her laughter became a common melody that mingled with the wind.

"Never thought I"d see the day when I"d wake up excited to mend fences," Deborah confessed one evening as they sat on the porch, watching the sun dip below the horizon.

"Life has a funny way of surprising us," Aaron replied, his hand finding hers in the dimming light.

"Surprising and wonderful," she added, her blue eyes reflecting the last rays of sunlight.

"Exactly," Aaron agreed, and in his steady gaze, Deborah found the sense of belonging and security she had longed for since arriving in Texas.

*****

THE SUN CLIMBED HIGH, casting a sweltering blanket over the vast expanse of Aaron"s ranch. Deborah stood beside him, a rifle cradled awkwardly in her arms as she squinted at the row of tin cans arranged on the fence post.

"Steady now," Aaron said. "Just like I showed you. Breathe easy."

Deborah nodded, trying to mimic the quiet assurance that seemed to come so naturally to him. She could feel the weight of the rifle, an unfamiliar pressure against her shoulder, and the heat of the Texas sun pressing down upon them both.

"All right." Her voice was more a whisper than she intended, a stark contrast to the hum of activity that buzzed around the ranch. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as Aaron had instructed, and squeezed the trigger.

The blast was louder than she expected, making her jump despite her preparations. To her astonishment, one of the cans clattered to the ground, and she turned to Aaron, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Look at that! You got it!" His face broke into a broad grin, the pride in his voice wrapping around her like a warm embrace.

"Did I really?" The disbelief in her tone matched the fluttering in her chest—a mix of excitement and newfound confidence.

"Sure as the sky is blue," he chuckled, and there was that nurturing warmth again, the kind that made the ranch feel less daunting, more like a place she might one day call home.

She let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment. With each passing day, under Aaron"s patient guidance, Deborah found herself tackling tasks she"d never imagined possible. Her hands, once reserved for knitting and folding clothes at the General Store, were now calloused from reins and rope. And here she was, shooting tin cans off a fence like some Wild West sharpshooter.

"Again?" Aaron asked, gesturing to the remaining cans with a tilt of his head.

"Again," Deborah agreed, the word feeling like a promise. She steadied herself, aiming with more confidence this time. The gunshot rang out, another can toppled, and she couldn"t help the smile that spread across her face.

"Seems you"re full of surprises, Mrs. Tudor," Aaron teased gently, reloading the rifle for her.

"Maybe I am," Deborah replied, a playful note in her voice that felt foreign yet fitting. She glanced up at Aaron, their eyes meeting. There was a flicker of something there—an acknowledgment of her growth, of the partnership they were building together.

"Let"s finish off those cans," Aaron suggested, and Deborah nodded, eager to continue. As she focused on the target, she realized it wasn"t just about hitting cans. It was about hitting her stride in this new life, one shot at a time.

*****

DEBORAH"S FINGERS TRAILEDalong the rough wooden fence, her gaze following the sprawling horizon that painted a canvas of endless possibilities. She paused, leaning against the sturdy barrier, and let out a contented sigh.

"Beautiful, isn"t it?" Aaron"s voice came from behind, his presence as reassuring as the land itself.

"More than I ever imagined," Deborah admitted, turning to face him. His eyes held a glint of pride as they rested on her.

"Seems like you"re taking to ranch life like a duck to water."

She chuckled, thinking back to her first tentative steps on this soil, "Feels like home now, thanks to you."

"Ah, it"s all you, Deb. You"ve made this place shine," Aaron said, closing the distance between them with a few easy strides.

A soft breeze played with strands of Deborah"s hair, and she tucked them behind her ear, her blue eyes reflecting the vastness above. "I used to feel so lost in all this space. Now, it feels like...like there"s room for dreams to grow."

"Always was," Aaron murmured, his hand finding hers, their fingers intertwining naturally.

"Who would have thought? Me, a rancher"s wife," Deborah mused, a playful twinkle in her eye.

"Best one this side of Fort Worth," Aaron declared, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"You really think so?" she asked after a moment, seeking confirmation of her newfound role.

"Every word." Aaron"s affirmation was as solid as the ground beneath their feet.

"Then I suppose we"ll make quite the team," Deborah said.

"Already are, my dear. Already are," Aaron replied, pulling her into a gentle embrace.