Naomi laid the books on the uncovered wooden table. The kitchen was clean, no dirty dishes or leftover food on the counters.
“That’s it,” her grandmother announced. “Ethan will pick the book he wants to read first and bring the rest to me. Let’s head home.”
“How long will it take us to get to your house?”
“With the buggy, no more than ten minutes. Our land spreads far every which way, but our houses are close to the road. Speaking of which, I want to show you something.”
Naomi followed her grandmother back to the front porch. “Now,” she said, sweeping her arm to indicate the view from the porch, “see what I mean about Ethan’s house being well-situated?”
Her grandmother hadn’t overstated the vista. Verdant hills rolled through the valley all the way to the horizon. This land, prized by Spain, Mexico, and America alike, was full of promise. Being raised in a city, she’d been taught that the wilderness equaled life-threatening danger, but her heart swelled to know that, even though she was a city girl, she belonged to this land.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” her grandmother asked.
“Oh, yes. Now I understand why you didn’t want to move to San Antonio.”
“City life is fine for some folks, but I need to be where I can breathe.”
* * *
Vicente Garcia unrolled a small towel and offered a tortilla with meat and beans to Ethan.
Ethan moved away from the corral toward the shade of an oak and took the offering with a grateful smile. “I suppose Marta packed extra for me.”
“She worries about you. Says you need a wife.”
Ethan bit into the food, knowing it would be a delicious break from branding calves. “I wouldn’t mind a wife, but finding the right girl isn’t easy.”
Vicente plopped on the grass, drank water from a bottle with a woven basket cover, and then passed the bottle to Ethan. “Seems to me there’s many a settler’s daughter who’s had eyes for you.”
“I don’t know about that.” Ethan accepted the bottle and drank. Vicente was always teasing him about something. Today, he’d chosen Ethan’s love life. “The ladies I take a fancy to are interested in someone else, and the ones who take a fancy to me don’t suit me.”
Vicente answered with feigned solemnity. “The heart is a difficult organ to please, that’s for sure. Besides, you’d break my little girl’s heart if you married someone else.”
The thought of Vicente’s young daughter brought a smile to Ethan’s face. “Paloma’s a sweet girl, all right, but I hope I won’t have to wait until she’s old enough to marry.”
Vicente nodded his head in agreement. “Not to mention that when she grows up she’ll realize how ugly you are.” Laughter danced in Vicente’s eyes.
“No doubt,” Ethan said. “Any more food?”
Vicente passed the towel to Ethan. “I’ll put away your mare if you’ll see to the fire.”
Ethan swallowed the last bites and followed his friend. He used the branding iron to scatter the ashes inside the stone fire ring and then entered the barn. “You can put her in the north pasture. She’s done enough for today.”
“Wish that were true for me,” Vicente answered. “I’ve got work waiting for me at the station. What about you?”
“Account books. I always put off that task as long as possible.”
“Why? You did all right this year, didn’t you?” Vicente asked. “My brothers and I helped you drive almost two hundred head to market.”
“It was a good year. Wish they could all be good. But one bad year or, Lord forbid, two, and I’ll be one of the poorest men in the county.”
“Maybe I should ask for my pay.”
Vicente’s good-humored barb didn’t offend Ethan. “Let’s go to the house. I’ll make us some coffee and get your money.”
As soon as they entered the kitchen, Vicente took the battered metal pot from the cold fireplace. “I’ll make the coffee. Drinking that warm mud you make is too much to ask.”
“Fine with me.” Ethan stopped at the kitchen table and fingered the books. Miss Ruth must have paid him a visit. Had Naomi been with her?
Vicente rekindled the fire and ladled water from a bucket into the coffee pot. “Something wrong?”
“Not a thing. I’ll be right back.” Ethan walked down the short hallway to his bedroom, opened a desk drawer, and withdrew the money bag. Vicente would have helped him for free, but Ethan’s sense of fairness wouldn’t allow his friend to work for nothing.
He returned to the kitchen, placed the money on the table beside his friend, and fell into a chair. “There’s bacon and biscuits left over from breakfast.”
“No, thanks. I’ll wait until I get back to the station. Marta’s a better cook than you.”
“That’s hardly a secret.”
“Maybe you need a cook.”
“I manage.”
“And a housekeeper.”
“You don’t like the way I keep house?”
“And someone to take care of you.”
“How did we get back to talking about a wife?”
Vicente sprawled in the other wooden chair. “Have you thought about Miss Ruth’s granddaughter? They don’t come any prettier.”
“She’s not interested in a cowboy like me.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Have you seen the way she dresses? And what about her fine manners? Naomi Sullivan belongs in a rich man’s parlor, not a ranch house. Besides, she’s set her cap for Lieutenant Bret Anderson.”
Vicente’s face darkened at the mention of that name. “You’ve got to warn her.”
“None of my business.”
“You know Anderson’s up to no good.”
“I’m not Naomi’s protector. I said something to Miss Ruth—” Ethan stopped when a storm brewed on Vicente’s face. “Don’t worry, I didn’t give any details. I just told her the lieutenant may not have good intentions.”
Vicente’s expression didn’t change. “You’re going to sit by and let Lieutenant Anderson ruin Naomi’s reputation?”
“If you’re so concerned, you talk to Miss Ruth.”
“If she wouldn’t listen to you what makes you think she’d listen to me?”
Ethan stood, went to the fireplace, and used a rag to remove the coffee pot from the fire. “I’m finished talking about it.”
Vicente moved to the open back door, paused as if he had more to say, and then strode down the wooden steps.
Ethan leaned against the open doorway and watched his friend ride away. Vicente wasn’t angry at him as much as he was angry at the situation. His wife’s sister had been shamed by Lieutenant Anderson, and Vicente took it as an offense to his entire family. But there was little Ethan could do to rectify the situation.
A woman as fine as Naomi Sullivan would be a lovely thing to come home to, but he was no longer a boy who believed in magic wishes. Naomi was smitten with another man. Until her eyes were opened, Ethan stood little chance.
CHAPTER FOUR
Naomi’s heart leaped when she spied a horse wearing an Army blanket next to her grandmother’s house. But it crashed when she realized it wasn’t Lieutenant Anderson waiting on the porch. A much younger man with two yellow chevrons on his sleeve doffed his cap and approached the buggy.
“Corporal Phillips, ma’am, with a message for Miss Naomi Sullivan from Lieutenant Anderson.”
Naomi took the hand he offered and climbed down from the wagon. “Thank you, Corporal. I am Naomi Sullivan.”
He reached into his jacket and withdrew a folded paper. “The lieutenant told me to wait for your reply.”
Ruth spoke from atop the buggy. “Let me put up my horse and I’ll fix you something to eat.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” the young soldier answered. “Will you allow me to see to the horse?”
“You soldier boys sure do have good manners.” The corporal helped her alight from the buggy. “Turn him into the pasture, will you?”
/> “Yes, ma’am.” The soldier replaced his cap and led the horse away.
Ruth stepped onto the porch next to Naomi. “If you keep having callers from Fort Croghan, I may never need to care for my horse again.”
“I’ll help you with it. If you show me how.”
“Maybe later. Now go on in and read your message.”
Naomi held the note against her chest as she rushed into her bedroom and broke the seal.
My dear Miss Sullivan,
I had hoped to call upon you one day this week, but duty forces me to forego that pleasure. It is my most sincere hope and desire that you allow me to escort you to the Harvest Dance. Please ask your lovely grandmother to act as chaperone, as I would never do anything to besmirch your sterling reputation. The courier has orders to await your reply and I pray you will not break this poor soldier’s heart by declining the invitation. Until then, I am…
Your ardent admirer,
Lieutenant Bret Anderson
Naomi’s heart sang. He’d asked! The most handsome, most dashing, most courageous man had invited her to the dance. Any woman would have fallen at his feet in gratitude for his attention, but he’d asked her. She went to her dresser, removed a few sheets of stationery, and dipped her pen in ink.
How her hand shook! She took deep, steadying breaths. If she wrote with such a trembling hand, the lieutenant would think her apoplectic. A hundred possible replies flit through her mind. Should she stall, perhaps writing that she would send her answer later? Or should she pounce on the opportunity? She would be the envy of every woman when she entered the dance on his arm. Why give another woman a chance to catch Bret’s eye?
How wonderful it would be to waltz in his arms. Perhaps she’d wear her blue dress to complement his uniform, and yellow ribbons in her hair. Would he dance every dance with her or should she accept invitations from other men? It was too soon to claim exclusivity, but if everything went well at the dance, perhaps Bret’s mind would lean toward a more permanent relationship.
Naomi’s daydreaming ended abruptly when her grandmother tapped on her door.
“The soldier’s finished his coffee and cake, Naomi. Have you finished writing your answer?”
“Oh…no, but…” Naomi dipped the pen in ink. “Bret has invited me to the Harvest Dance. I hardly know what to say.”
Her grandmother moved to her side. “Do you want him to escort you?”
“Of course.”
“Then why not simply write your acceptance and be done with it?”
“But shouldn’t I…you know, write something more…more…”
Ruth’s eyebrows shot heavenward. “Actually, I don’t think you should write more.”
Naomi ducked her head. Her grandmother was right, of course. Naomi was a prize to be won, not a beggar imploring for a few scraps of attention. She gathered her thoughts and wrote:
I am happy to accept your invitation. You may call for me on Saturday evening.
She signed her name, folded and sealed the paper, and handed the note to her grandmother. “I don’t expect to sleep a wink between now and Saturday.”
“Oh, I think you’ll manage.” Ruth smiled and walked toward the kitchen.
There was something in her grandmother’s smile, a combination of wisdom and tolerance that both comforted and distressed Naomi. Her grandmother had been through all of this before. What did she know that Naomi had yet to learn?
* * *
Ethan hitched two black geldings to the rockaway carriage. It hadn’t been used since his parents’ death, but it was the only vehicle he had that would seat three people. He’d checked the fittings, wheels, and harness, declared them fit for travel, and then cleaned the carriage from top to bottom. There was plenty of space for Ruth and Naomi in the covered back seat.
He had only one good suit of clothes, the same one he wore to church every Sunday, but he’d never thought much about fashion and he wasn’t going to start now. However, he did trade his well-used hat for a narrow-brimmed felt one. Would Naomi notice? Ethan grinned at the possibility and started the horses toward Ruth’s house.
Naomi’s arrival in Loma Verde had set tongues to wagging. Old and young alike talked about Miss Ruth’s pretty young granddaughter. At church last Sunday, she’d sat in quiet repose, her head bowed daintily and her tender lips reciting prayers. His heart had filled at the sight, a mixture of adoration and devotion. The man who awoke to her beautiful face on the pillow next to his should thank his lucky stars for the rest of his life.
Of course, Naomi’s loveliness wasn’t a guarantee she’d make a good wife. The Book of Proverbs had listed the characteristics of a good wife. Would Naomi work willingly with her hands and clothe herself with strength and honor? It was much too early to know. Choosing a wife was one of the most important decisions he’d ever make, and as lonely as he was, he wouldn’t choose a wife out of desperation.
As his carriage neared Ruth’s house, Ethan’s mind jolted back to reality. Lieutenant Bret Anderson stood beside a small cart drawn by a dappled white horse. Jealousy and anger nipped at Ethan’s heart. He’d expected to interfere with the lieutenant’s advances at the dance, but he hadn’t considered Anderson’s craftiness. Ethan should have known the officer would use every ounce of charm to insinuate himself into Naomi’s life.
He stopped his carriage behind the lieutenant’s vehicle and climbed down. Naomi and Miss Ruth stood on the porch. How did Anderson plan to take two passengers in that small conveyance? One of the ladies would have to sit on the rear bench and ride backward all the way.
“My, Ethan,” Ruth cooed from her porch. “Don’t you look nice? Have you come to take your best girl to the dance?”
A second of confusion passed as Ethan tried to decipher Ruth’s greeting. It wasn’t like her to tease. When he understood, he smiled broadly. “I sure have. Are you ready to go?”
Ruth clasped her hands at her chest and laughed loudly. “Ready, willing, and able.” She walked to Ethan’s carriage. After allowing him to help her into the seat, she called to Lieutenant Anderson. “We’ll follow you. That way I’ll be able to fulfill my chaperone duties.”
Anderson touched the brim of his hat and bowed slightly toward Ruth. “Yes, ma’am.” Then he sprang onto the bench, took the ribbons in hand, and signaled the white horse to walk.
The geldings hitched to Ethan’s carriage bristled at being forced to slow their normal pace, but Ethan was determined to stay behind the lieutenant. “At this rate, we’ll be lucky to arrive before midnight,” Ethan said.
Ruth patted his arm. “I suppose the lieutenant didn’t have a very wide choice when it came to wagons. All of the Fort Croghan officers attended the Harvest Dance last year, and I’m sure the higher ranking men got the first choice of carriages.”
“Naomi’s wedged beside him like an egg in the nest.”
“I see that, but I couldn’t very well order her into your beautiful carriage when he showed up.”
Ethan’s mouth tightened into a harsh line. Naomi was in a precarious situation, and only he knew it. “Have you thought more about what I told you about Anderson?”
“Naomi’s a grown woman, Ethan. She has to make her own decisions and live with the consequences.”
“She wouldn’t be the first girl to have her head turned by a smooth-talking man.”
“Is that what you believe is happening?”
“Could be.”
“Lieutenant Anderson hasn’t done anything improper. In fact, he’s been the perfect gentleman. You sound like a jealous suitor, but you’ve done nothing to indicate your desire to court my granddaughter.”
Ethan clamped his jaws together and drove in discontented silence. Marta’s sister was younger than Naomi and possibly more naïve, and she’d been taken in by Anderson’s smooth manners. Why would Naomi be different?
* * *
Naomi swayed on the narrow bench seat of Bret’s one-horse cart. The ride into town had been a bumpy one, but she’d never co
mplain. Who wanted a complaining shrew for a wife? When they reached the outskirts of town, the sound of music and of people clapping energized the small town. Did everyone in Loma Verde attend the annual dance?
Soft, yellow light poured from the church hall. Saddled horses, carriages of every type, and farm wagons crowded the front entrance, but Bret steered his cart toward the back. There was plenty of room to leave the cart there, but it was also very dark.
No need for worry, Naomi reasoned. Surely Lieutenant Bret Anderson of the U.S. Army would protect her from any danger that lurked beyond the light.
Bret jumped out of the cart, tied the horse to the hitching post, and returned to Naomi’s side. But instead of offering his hand to help her down, he held up his arms and smiled widely. Naomi bit back a childish giggle. He wanted to put his hands around her waist and swing her down. Dare she allow him such familiarity? Naomi glanced around, saw no one to witness such intimacy, and decided to allow Bret this one liberty before her grandmother and Ethan appeared.
She leaned forward, placed her hands on Bret’s shoulders, and gasped when his strong hands encircled her waist. “Oh!” she exclaimed when her feet touched the ground.
“You’re as light as a feather,” Bret said with a grin. He pulled her toward his chest and lowered his head. Before Naomi could protest, he pressed his lips against hers.
Astonishment and indignation battled with joy and curiosity in Naomi’s heart. She’d only been kissed once before, but the kiss from that loutish cowboy in the stagecoach hardly counted. Bret’s kiss was soft, his breath on her cheek warm. Would he do it again? She raised her gloved fingertips to her mouth and blinked up at him.
He threw his head back in raucous laughter and tightened his hold on her. “Liked that, didn’t you?”
Naomi’s ability to speak had evaporated. She was sure she resembled an owlet as she stood in the dim light, simply blinking up at Bret.
“Don’t worry, my lovely,” Bret said, crooking his arm. “There will be other opportunities for you to sample the ways of love.”
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