“Miranda?”
“My mare.”
Garth nodded. “That it?”
“Yes.”
The team plodded on. Ruth stared at the dry open prairie. Dust clouds rose from the wheels as they rolled forward. Green prairie grass grew on either side of the broken trail to the Mackenzie farm. In the distance, Garth’s house appeared and became progressively larger.
Progressively scarier. Ruth gripped her own thighs, and her fanny bounced against the plank seat. The aroma of stale smoke hung in the air. The fire.
“I’m sorry,” Garth said. “The smell will fade in time.”
“I know.” She wrinkled her nose.
“Behind the barn, on the way to the creek, the grasses are singed black as night.”
“They’ll grow again,
” Ruth said.
“Don’t know if my wheat will come up. Too early to tell.”
Her heart opened to him. To her husband. She unclenched her thigh and laid her hand on his hard muscled one. “Everything will be fine, Garth.”
He didn’t turn to look at her, but his lips curved into a slight smile. Ruth released a breath. Yes, everything would be fine. One way or another.
It had to be.
* * *
Mary Alice had been happy to hear the news. Joyous, in fact. Ruth felt sure the girl would be calling her “Ma” within a few weeks. Her heart warmed at the idea.
Safely tucked away, the young girl slept now. Ruth had spoken to her for a few minutes, and Mary Alice had assured Ruth she was feeling better. She looked better, too. Her color was returning, and she’d eaten today. Ruth said a short prayer of thanks as she watched the child’s chest bob up and down in slumber.
Time to see to her husband.
Time for her wedding night.
Garth sat in the kitchen sipping a cup of coffee. “Mary Alice all right?”
Ruth smiled, hoping she hid her trembling lips. “She’s fine. I think…this will be good for her. I mean, I’ll try to be good for her. Be a good mother.”
“I know you will.” He scooted his chair out from the table and held out his arms. “Come sit with me?”
She stepped toward him and he drew her into his lap. “I can take care of you,” he said. “I know this house, this farm, doesn’t look like much, and then the fire… But I will provide for you and Mary Alice. And any other children we might have.”
“I know that, Garth.”
“You might have had more with Doc Potter.”
“I didn’t choose Doc Potter. I chose you.”
His stubbled cheeks flushed a light pink. Ruth couldn’t help smiling.
“You understand what comes next, don’t you?”
“Of course. I’m not a child. I’m twenty-two years old.”