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Frontier Want Ad Bride
Lyn Cote


Bride by MailMail order bride Judith Jones has barely arrived in Pepin, Wisconsin, before she’s whisked away to prepare for her wedding to Asa Brant. Though something about Asa seems so familiar, how do two strangers become husband and wife? Especially when Judith senses Asa’s hidden sorrow. His kindness in helping two young orphans could win her heart…if only he’d open up to her.Determined to start over after four years of brutal war, Asa moved away and sent for a mail order bride. He had no idea the woman answering his ad would be the sister of his former soldier-in-arms. The less he reveals, the fewer painful memories to confront. But Judith’s compassion—and two loving children—might just show them the path to true happiness…Wilderness Brides: Finding love—and a fresh start—on the frontier







Bride by Mail

Mail-order bride Judith Jones has barely arrived in Pepin, Wisconsin, before she’s whisked away to prepare for her wedding to Asa Brant. Though something about Asa seems so familiar, how do two strangers become husband and wife? Especially when Judith senses Asa’s hidden sorrow. His kindness in helping two young orphans could win her heart...if only he’d open up to her.

Determined to start over after four years of brutal war, Asa moved away and sent for a mail-order bride. He had no idea the woman answering his ad would be the sister of his former soldier in arms. The less he reveals, the fewer painful memories there are to confront. But Judith’s compassion—and two loving children—might just show them the path to true happiness...


“You buy whatever you need.”

Asa cleared his throat. “Our fields will provide most of our food. I hunt in the fall. And in the winter, I work with leather. The blacksmith keeps it and sells it for me.” He rose and went to the hearth. “Come here.”

Judith obeyed him.

He showed her the loose stone that hid a cavity in the side of the fireplace and the small cloth sack of gold and silver coins stashed there. “We have plenty, Judith. Just tell Mr. Ashford to put everything on our tab. I pay him once a month.”

“Thank you, Asa. I’m not an extravagant woman, but I do want to—” she waved a hand toward the room “—make everything more homey.”

He returned to his place at the table, and she followed him.

“I want you to...do that, too,” he said. But you’ve done so much more. The chain around his heart tightened. If only he had more than a house and sustenance to offer her. Judith deserved the best. But he would give her the best he could of the material world. The pity was that he could not give her more of his true self.


Dear Reader (#u46e5f362-2468-5a1e-b46a-c23631f5e8a2),

I hope you’ve enjoyed returning to Pepin, Wisconsin, for another Wilderness Brides book. (Or coming for the first time—welcome!)

Judith, to me, shows how a loving woman can win a man’s heart and change him for the better. However, you notice she didn’t try to change him. Her acceptance, faithfulness, patience and love changed her husband’s heart with God’s help. As her mother had taught her, “The only person you can change is yourself.”

Now, what about Emma and Mason Chandler? Will he return? What has kept him so long? And will Emma marry him or not? (BTW, I’ve never met a Southerner like Mabel Joy, definitely an anomaly!)

If you’ve enjoyed this story, you might want to read the first three books in my Wilderness Brides series—Their Frontier Family (Pastor Noah Whitmore and Sunny’s story), The Baby Bequest (Ellen and Kurt Lang’s story), and Heartland Courtship (Sheriff Brennan Merriday and Rachel’s story).

Fifteen Love Inspired Historical authors contributed recipes and family stories to the “Old Family Recipes” collection. If you’d like to receive a free digital copy of this, please drop by my website www.LynCote.com (http://www.LynCote.com) and subscribe to my newsletter and you will automatically receive your free copy.

Blessings,

Lyn Cote


A USA TODAY bestselling author of over forty novels, LYN COTE lives in the north woods of Wisconsin with her husband in a lakeside cottage. She knits, loves cats (and dogs), likes to cook (and eat), never misses Wheel of Fortune and enjoys hearing from her readers. Email her at l.cote@juno.com. And drop by her website, www.lyncote.com (http://www.lyncote.com), to learn more about her books that feature “Strong Women, Brave Stories.”


Frontier Want Ad Bride

Lyn Cote






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up. Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil. Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth. Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth.

—1 Corinthians 13:4–8 (KJV)


To Laura Ingalls Wilder (born in Pepin, Wisconsin) who left us such a clear and heartwarming account of life on the frontier.


Contents

Cover (#ue9f2223f-29f8-5a67-a807-bea2a0b8e2d1)

Back Cover Text (#uc0b867a6-a447-57c5-8b3b-c93b1249ae05)

Introduction (#u1a129b75-2022-5e38-b4fc-cc43a36ea494)

Dear Reader (#udd99468a-c1b8-5113-80d3-cd1b3e61ea4d)

About the Author (#uc5944d48-3020-5058-ad6b-63d5aaeaf58e)

Title Page (#uf918e386-646a-5594-9daa-ebaa3d89b395)

Bible Verse (#u62ecb5a0-fb61-537c-b790-6f464bd8e422)

Dedication (#ufb435a0d-1c3f-5330-8dba-a311f037c4e0)

Chapter One (#u688bae86-260f-5cd2-a13d-93e37fee2388)

Chapter Two (#ube1ce00c-d7cb-54a0-910e-ca1a734412cb)

Chapter Three (#u85af4c7b-d36a-590b-a59b-a0f8ece4a125)

Chapter Four (#u2f0b012b-4a34-55d9-9bb1-6ffe1ef6a8e8)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#u46e5f362-2468-5a1e-b46a-c23631f5e8a2)

Wisconsin Frontier

March 1873

Standing beside her sister, Emma, on the deck of the steamboat, Judith Jones gazed out at the snowy, thickly wooded shore of the northern Mississippi River. The river ice had broken just last week.

“The porter said Pepin is coming up,” Emma said, slipping her hand from her fur muff and through the crook of Judith’s elbow.

Judith clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering from the piercing wind. “I can’t believe we’ve done this.” Answering an ad to find husbands.

“Did we have a choice?” Emma challenged. “Our dear sister-in-law wanted our father’s house to herself.”

Leave it to Emma to speak the truth so...baldly. But her words brought to mind their brother’s Kentucky wife’s sour glare and her razor voice.

Emma jostled Judith’s shoulder with hers. “We’ll be fine. We’ll be together.” Emma grinned and shivered. “Embrace the adventure.”

At this bravado, Judith shook her head, glancing at her very pretty sister from the corner of her eye. Emma’s cheeks were rosy from the brisk March wind, her big blue eyes were wide and she was dancing on her toes from either the cold or excitement. Judith guessed the latter, hoped the latter. But Judith knew her sister still mourned the fiancé she’d cruelly lost in the very last days of the awful war.

Neither of them had come here for happy reasons or without past loss. Still, Judith felt as if she was being squeezed between two unpleasant realities. Before her lay marrying a stranger. Would she and Asa Brant be a good match? No man had ever fallen in love with her. Was she a woman who could engender that kind of love? That doubt plagued her. Yet behind her lay an unhappy home. The memory brought the image of her sister-in-law, Mabel Joy, with hands on her hips, glaring at Judith. Staying in their family home had become impossible. She faced forward, refusing to open the deep well of rejection. Neither her brother nor father had stood up for Judith and Emma. There was no turning back.

“With that sour expression, you must be thinking of our dear sister-in-law,” Emma teased.

Judith shook her head in reply, not taking the bait. But she tried to relax her tight face. She must not look peeved when meeting Asa Brant. She drew in a deep breath of cold air.

The steamboat horn blasted and as they chugged around the bend, a little town came into view. The porter appeared at Judith’s side. “This is your stop, ladies. Pepin, Wisconsin.” Behind him another two porters stood beside the twins’ two trunks and various baggage.

“Wonderful!” Emma said, slipping her arm from Judith’s.

Judith checked her coat pocket to make sure she still had the gratuity to give the porters. And then they were on the shore and faced with a crowd of people pouring out of every building. Judith took a step backward.

Emma tugged her forward. “Oh, look, everyone’s waving.”

Judith allowed Emma to drag her. What choice did she have? They’d reached their destination. Nerves appeared to affect Judith’s sight. She saw the people but had trouble focusing on any faces. In this crowd was the man she’d come to meet and marry sometime soon. He’d promised to make all the arrangements.

At the last moment, Judith remembered herself and turned to give the porters the money from her pocket. “Thank you.”

They accepted it and, after bowing, hurried back on board, holding on to their hats against the wind.

“Welcome to Pepin!” a middle-aged lady with silver in her hair said, reaching them first. A man and a young girl, probably her husband and daughter, hurried just behind her.

Judith looked past them, trying to spot a boardinghouse where she and Emma would stay, but saw none.

“We’re the Ashfords. We own the general store here. You must be the Jones sisters. But I thought you were supposed to be twins.”

Emma eagerly shook the woman’s hand. “We’re fraternal. That means we’re just sisters who were born at the same time. I’m Emma Jones, and this is my sister, Judith.”

Judith curtseyed, a custom almost out of style.

Mr. Ashford beamed at her approvingly as he introduced himself and his daughter and shook her hand. “But you aren’t interested in meeting us.” He looked around in the crowd of people. “Come on, Asa. Meet your bride.”

Judith’s gaze flew upward, seeking her first look at Asa Brant.

A tall man approached her. He’d bundled up against the cold. For a moment he looked familiar but, of course, they’d never met. “Miss Judith Jones?”

She offered him her hand. “Yes.” Her voice came out as a squeak compared to his deep, rich voice that seemed to warm the air around her.

“I’m Asa Brant. So happy you came.” He looked down at her, holding her hand in both of his as if frozen at the sight of her.

Blushing warmth enveloped Judith as she gripped his gloved hand. “Asa.” That’s all she could say, her voice failing her.

“All the arrangements are made as promised,” Asa said, sounding strained. He edged back slightly as if not knowing how to behave.

Judith felt the same awkwardness. They’d corresponded over the past few months, so they were strangers but not complete strangers. What a confusing feeling.

“Yes,” Mrs. Ashford agreed. “Now, you two ladies come with me. I have everything ready for the bride in our quarters above the store. Is your wedding dress in your trunk?”

Judith stared at the woman, unable to reply. Why was the woman asking for her wedding dress? She glanced up at Asa and found him staring at her as if he wasn’t quite sure she was real.

“Where’s my intended?” Emma spoke up in the gap. “Where’s Mason Chandler?”

Everyone fell silent. The crowd all looked away as if embarrassed.

“He hasn’t jilted me, has he?” Emma asked in her usual frank way.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Mrs. Ashford assured her. “Come now, ladies. It’s freezing out here. Everyone, you know the plan. We’ll see you all at the schoolhouse as soon as the bride is ready.”

Judith tried to make sense of what was happening. She still clung to Asa’s hand. What plan was Mrs. Ashford talking about?

“Don’t worry,” Asa assured her. “Just go with Mrs. Ashford.” He squeezed her hand and turned away.

The men in the crowd gathered up the sisters’ belongings and departed as Mrs. Ashford drew them out of the wind through the general store, then up the back stairs to the living quarters. Judith felt as if she were an oarless boat being swept along helplessly in a strong current.

“Now come stand by the fire,” Mrs. Ashford instructed, “while we unpack your wedding dress and press it.” The woman glanced at Emma and worried her lower lip. “I’m afraid Mason Chandler couldn’t be here.” With her daughter standing just behind her, the woman drew a letter from the mantel above the roaring fire and handed it and a slender opener to Emma. “Things happen,” the woman said sympathetically.

This forced Judith out of her daze. She moved beside Emma, who had navigated through all the furniture to stand closer to the window for more light. Judith slid her arm around Emma’s narrow waist. Emma stared at the letter and then slit it open. She held it so Judith could read it with her.

February 28, 1873

My dear Emma,

It grieves me that I will not be in Pepin to meet you as arranged. I have received a letter from my father and have gone to be with him in his final days. The Ashfords have promised to make sure you have a place to stay until I can return. I am so sorry, but this could not have been foreseen when we made our plans to marry. I will stay as long as I must to be with my father at this sad time and settle up matters of business here.

Your obedient servant,

Mason Chandler

Judith read the letter twice before it made sense. She tugged Emma closer still, uncertain what to say.

“Well, that came out of the blue,” Emma said.

Judith thought she might have heard a trace of relief in her daring sister’s voice. Had Emma been granted a grace period, whereas Judith must marry today?

“Don’t you worry,” Mrs. Ashford said. “We have a guest room for you, and you can help out in the store till he comes home.”

Emma folded the letter and slipped it back into its envelope. “Thank you.”

“Now that’s taken care of,” Mrs. Ashford said, “let’s unpack the wedding dress and get it pressed. Everyone’s waiting at the schoolhouse—it doubles as our community church—to see Judith and Asa marry.”

Judith’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Marry? Today? But she and Asa had just met. Again she felt the sensation of being swept along.

“Come. Come.” Mrs. Ashford waved at them. “Where’s the wedding dress?”

Emma moved forward. “In Judith’s trunk, wrapped in tissue paper.” Emma went to the right trunk and undid the clasp. Soon the two women hovered over the trunk while Judith stood by the window, frozen. She’d never thought they’d marry the day she arrived. A sinking feeling gripped her.

Mrs. Ashford rose, holding the full dress over both her arms. “The perfect shade of blue. A good choice. You’ll look lovely, and it will serve as your best dress for years to come.”

Judith shook herself and came toward the woman as if wading through cold water. When Asa had assured her in his last letter that he would take care of all arrangements, she’d assumed he’d meant finding her a place to stay and something to do while they got to know each other. She ruefully thought that she’d just learned the first lesson of marriage—not to take for granted that what she assumed he meant was what he actually meant.

She gazed at Mrs. Ashford, seeking some kind of reassurance.

And the lady read her expression aright. “Asa Brant has lived here almost two years. He is an honest man, always pays his bills. He attends church regularly, and whenever the community needs to do something as a whole, he always pitches in. He is well respected and well liked, though he usually keeps to himself.” The woman frowned on this last bit of information. But no doubt to a woman such as Mrs. Ashford, a desire for privacy and quiet might be seen as unusual.

Judith digested this and drew in a deep breath. “Thank you.”

Mrs. Ashford came nearer. “Miss Jones, you’ll find that no woman really knows what kind of husband a man will make until they are married. You are pledged to an honest, well-respected man. That’s a good place to start.”

Judith nodded, mentally clinging to the final phrase, a good place to start.

“Now, let’s get this dress pressed. Everyone’s waiting!” Mrs. Ashford carried the dress into the kitchen to the ironing board. “Amanda, take the ladies into Miss Jones’s room so they can freshen up.”

The young girl moved out of her mother’s shadow and showed them to a cheery but small room with a comfortable-looking bed that took up most of the space. Amanda pointed out the pitcher and copper bowl filled with warm water. Then she left them.

Judith and Emma exchanged glances. Emma held up a hand. “We’ll discuss my odd turn of events later. Let’s wash up and get our hair back into order. That dress will be ready before we know it.”

Judith let Emma pull her along, preparing for this unexpectedly immediate wedding. But doubts still swirled in her stomach. The one man she’d loved had spurned her. Now she, who’d previously given up on marriage, was going to marry a man she knew only through letters exchanged over the fall and winter. The nuptials would happen today, within the hour. I’m going to be married today, she repeated to herself, trying to believe it.

* * *

In the schoolhouse cloakroom, Asa shed his winter coat and muffler, still stunned by seeing Judith Jones. For a moment, he saw her again stepping off the boat and then looking up at him. He had not expected to recognize his bride, but he had—from a tintype he’d seen long ago. The tintype had belonged to her brother, his comrade in arms. But she hadn’t recognized him, which was a relief.

Surely she would never realize that she’d seen him twice before, never learn of their connection. The shock of recognizing her equaled the shock of seeing that his bride was not what he’d expected. He hadn’t anticipated the wave of instant attraction to her. He’d had trouble saying the few words to her that he’d managed to voice.

“Well, you have a neat-looking bride,” said the town blacksmith, Levi Comstock, slapping Asa on the back.

Asa nodded. Judith was a lot more than neat. She was trim and pretty with thick dark hair and deep brown eyes. He’d expected a woman who couldn’t attract a man and had prepared himself for someone plain. He shook his head as if trying to clear his mind of his preconception. He’d wanted someone plain, a woman who would fill the lonely hours and demand nothing from him deeper than kindness and respect. Judith Jones was not that sort of woman, commonplace, unremarkable. She was the complete opposite of those terms. His pulse sped up. He clamped down his reactions.

“Miss Jones appeared to be a pleasant and modest young woman,” said Noah Whitmore, the town preacher, leading them through the schoolhouse, where people were already gathering. The three of them went into the teacher’s quarters in the rear. The teacher had invited them to use it as a place for them to await the bride, out of the public eye.

“I don’t know how I’d handle marrying a woman I’d just met,” Levi said, buttoning himself into his suit coat.

Asa fully agreed with this. But he’d had no choice. No young women flocked to this frontier town. Out of desperate loneliness, he’d offered marriage to this woman. He could not face another winter with hours of remembering the past he yearned to erase from his mind. Women talked, and he planned for Judith’s voice to fill up the long, empty, silent days. But Judith’s large, honest eyes warned him that this woman was more than he’d bargained for.

“Sunny and I didn’t know each other very well when we wed,” Noah said, checking his reflection in the small shaving mirror on the wall and smoothing back his hair. “Being married is a special relationship. It might help to know a woman well before one weds, but many other couples have met on their wedding day.”

Asa appreciated Noah’s calm voice. He also knew that Noah was a Union veteran like himself. Asa’s deep-down worry thrust up into his throat, preventing him from speaking. He’d spent four long years during the war killing men, destroying everything in his path. He’d seen things no man should see. How did a soldier put that behind him and become a husband and maybe a father? He felt himself seize up inside as battle memories surged through his mind and his arteries pumped his blood hard. He wished he could ask Noah how he’d come to a place of peace. But men didn’t ask other men those kind of questions.

He drew in a deep breath. He’d come this far and he couldn’t back out, couldn’t jilt a sweet-looking, scared-looking woman like Judith. This was harder for her. She was putting her life in his hands, trusting him to be her provider and protector. He could do that, offer her that. But he had nothing more to offer. Did she sense that?

“The ladies are busy in my upstairs,” Ashford, the storekeeper, came in, rubbing his hands together. “Wish we had nicer weather for the wedding. But we’ll manage. We’ll manage.”

And that was what Asa must do—manage. He had gone along with Mason Chandler’s suggestion that they advertise for wives. No one had forced him. He’d done it of his own free will. He recalled Judith’s hesitant, shy letters and how he’d come to look forward to them, how he’d read and reread them. Straightening his back, he faced life. He would marry Judith today. He just wished that he was a better man for her and that his heart would stop pounding as if scolding him for not telling her what a poor husband he would make her.

* * *

Soon Mrs. Ashford knocked on the guest bedroom door and reentered. She and Emma helped Judith into the royal-blue dress with tiny mother-of-pearl buttons and hand-tatted lace at the high collar. Judith had labored over it for several weeks. She’d decided on a classic style, which, though it followed the new fashion of a slimmer profile, would indeed last her many years.

“Such fine stitching,” Mrs. Ashford remarked. “You are quite a seamstress.”

Judith managed a smile. Finally dressed, she was led to the hallway to a full-length wall mirror.

“You look beautiful,” exclaimed the young daughter, Amanda, and Emma echoed the sentiment.

Judith could only hope Asa Brant thought so. She’d never been deemed pretty, as Emma was, something people had found necessary to point out all through her childhood and teens.

“Every bride is beautiful, but Miss Jones, you do look lovely,” Mrs. Ashford agreed.

Judith finally let herself examine her reflection. She did indeed look well in her dress, but also stunned. Didn’t anybody notice that?

Soon they were layering up coats, gloves, shawls to meet the winter cold that still lingered and then walking out to the church-schoolhouse combination.

There the women paused just inside the cloakroom and shed their outerwear. After handing both twins bouquets of dried flowers that had been waiting on the shelf, Mrs. Ashford and Amanda hurried on inside to take seats, while Mr. Ashford offered to walk Judith down the aisle to her groom. He told them there would be no “Wedding March” since there was no organ or piano.

The urge to bolt shot through Judith like lightning. But she could not go back home, so she had to go forward. She mastered herself and took the man’s arm.

Emma slipped in front of them. “Ready, sister?”

Judith nodded, unable to speak.

Emma stepped into the open doorway to the large classroom, lifting her shoulders, and then she began to walk sedately down the aisle toward the front.

Mr. Ashford paused with Judith and then started after her sister.

From nerves, Judith’s vision wavered, but she was able to see the preacher holding an open book in front of the room, flanked by Asa Brant, obviously in his Sunday best. Another man stood beside him, no doubt the best man.

Emma arrived at the front and moved to one side to leave room for Judith next to Asa. Mr. Ashford squeezed her arm, released her and moved to sit with his family in the front row.

Judith’s heart was leaping beneath her breastbone. She felt a bit light-headed.

“Please join hands,” the pastor said. “Miss Jones, I am Noah Whitmore, and it’s my honor to join you in holy matrimony to Asa Brant.”

The man’s calm voice soothed her. She managed a smile but could not bring herself to look up into her groom’s face. If she did, then she might panic, so she concentrated on Noah Whitmore’s voice and Asa Brant’s firm grip on her icy kid-gloved hand.

* * *

Asa held on to his bride’s hand like a lifeline. His mind brought up the face of a woman whom he’d courted before the war and who’d sent him a letter in 1862 telling him she’d married another and was bound for California to leave the dreadful war behind. She’d wished him well. He’d been sitting in an army tent buffeted with cold wind and rain, exhausted from burying dead comrades.

He shoved this memory out of his mind. He barely remembered her except for that moment when she’d cut their connection. That day he’d been hoping for a consoling letter. He’d burned hers.

He forced himself back to this important occasion. The wedding ceremony proceeded along the usual lines. He faced his bride, determined.

Noah’s words penetrated. “Asa, repeat after me, please.”

Asa swallowed to clear his throat and voiced this pledge. “I, Asa, take thee, Judith, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honor and cherish till death do us part.” He felt guilty promising things he might not be able to do. But he’d do his best.

In a voice that trembled on some words, his bride voiced her vows to him. And she accepted the simple gold band he slipped on her finger.

“Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder,” the pastor intoned.

Behind him, Asa felt a relaxation of tension. Had the assembly expected his bride to flee? He couldn’t blame them. The pastor continued, “Forasmuch as Judith and Asa have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company of witnesses, and thereto have given their pledge, each to the other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving a ring, and by joining hands, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The pastor beamed. “You many now kiss your bride, Asa.”

Asa leaned down slowly, self-consciously. He hadn’t kissed a woman in so long. His bride gazed up at him as if stunned. He pressed his lips to hers lightly. The unexpected shock of the contact whipped through him. He ended the kiss and tightened his hold on her hand. He couldn’t stop himself from whispering, “I’ll do right by you, Judith.”

His bride barely nodded in reply.

The pastor brought him back with “Ladies and gentlemen, I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Asa Brant.”

There was loud applause and some foot-stomping, and a few children shouted, “Hurray!”

Asa couldn’t help himself. In the face of everyone’s obvious enthusiasm, he smiled though his lips felt tight, unused to the expression.

The next few hours passed in a blur of a festive meal; a special and delicious cake provided by the local baker, Mrs. Rachel Merriday; and many well wishes and gifts. Finally, just as darkness was stealing over the sky, Asa brought the wagon to take his bride home.

He halted the team just outside the door and got down.

Judith’s sister, Emma, stood by her side. “I wish all the best to the best sister,” Emma said. The two sisters clung to each other for a moment. Then Emma stepped away.

Asa helped Judith up onto his wagon. Someone had already loaded on her baggage and all the presents. The schoolhouse emptied, and people shouted congratulations to them as Asa drove up the uneven trail through the town and forest, very aware of his bride on the bench near him.

She shivered.

“My...our place is a little over a mile from town,” Asa said as they left everyone behind. “Won’t be long and I’ll have you by the fire. Warm enough under the lap rug?”

Judith nodded. “It all happened so fast.”

“Soon as I talked to Noah Whitmore, the women just took over. I tried to rein them in but got nowhere. I decided just to stand back, sure they’d do a better job of planning a wedding than I would.” He couldn’t believe how he was babbling. He shut his mouth. What might come out if he kept this up? He needed to guard his tongue. He couldn’t let her connect him to her brother. Doing so might bring up matters he didn’t want to discuss, didn’t want known here.

“After meeting Mrs. Ashford, I understand. And it was really a lovely wedding.”

Asa nodded but concentrated on navigating the narrow trail through the snow. He felt a shiver shudder through her. “You’re cold,” Asa said. “Move closer.”

She scooted over the few inches separating them, shutting out an avenue of the cold wind. “That’s better,” she murmured.

He tried not to stiffen. Having her this close awoke his senses in an unexpected way. Why couldn’t she have been a plain, unexciting woman? In the scant light left by the fading sun, Asa held himself back. “Not far now,” he said.

* * *

Judith found she couldn’t speak, her throat frozen. Grateful for the low light, she nodded against his shoulder. Then, up the trail in a clearing, she saw the roof of a large log cabin and barn facing it. Asa drove up to the door of the cabin. Within minutes he had her inside. “Stand by the fireplace.” He knelt and stirred up the banked fire. “I need to get your things and put the horses away.”

A little disappointed he hadn’t carried her over the threshold, she quelled any complaint. He’d wanted her in by the fire. That showed concern. Men didn’t often feel the same way about customs as women did. “Can I help?”

“Just keep warm.” He hurried outside. Soon he carried in her trunk and then her hatbox and valise. “Won’t be long.” He went outside again, shutting out the chill of early March. She stood in place like one of the surrounding forest trees, unable to speak for fear she’d burst into tears. This was hard.

The fire began to throw out some heat, and she fed it more kindling and wood. Before long, she began to feel the warmth, though inside she still felt chilled.

The door opened again and Asa walked in. She turned to him, her pulse thrumming in her ears. In the low light, she gazed at this man, now her husband. She wasn’t afraid of him, but what would be expected of her tonight? She’d had no mother to explain the workings of marriage to her. She’d never been allowed alone with a man in his home before. And now she stood here with a stranger. Her throat tightened and she felt a bit faint. What would happen next?

Asa went to the table opposite the hearth. She heard him strike a match. Even this tiny sound caused her to flinch. She watched him light an oil lamp.

He straightened and turned to her. “Warmer?”

She nodded, frozen in place.

He passed her and held his ungloved hands toward the fire. “Winter can linger this far north.”

Once again she was struck by his rich voice, and her stomach was doing little hops and skips now.

He faced her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “We’re strangers, and here we are, married.” His voice curled around her nape, making her shiver with awareness. “Don’t worry.”

She didn’t really know how to take what he was saying.

“You’ll sleep there.” He pointed to a curtained doorway. “I’ll sleep in the loft till we get...more acquainted.”

His words finally made sense to her jumbled mind. “Thank...you. This all happened so fast.”

“For me, too.” He looked uncertain. “I have something for you,” he said, motioning toward the other side of the cabin.

Judith turned and gasped. The lamplight glinted off the gold paint on what looked like a brand-new Singer sewing machine. Unable to stop herself, she moved toward it. When she reached it, she almost feared to touch it. “For me?”

“Don’t do much sewing myself,” he said, again sounding uneasy.

Then she did touch its smooth metal and wood. “I can see you’re going to be an indulgent husband.”

“No,” he replied with something like a grin in his tone. “Arbitrary and overbearing to the end.”

His unexpected but almost teasing reply eased her tension. “No one has ever given me such a lovely gift.” Impulsively she whirled to him and, standing on tiptoe, kissed his cheek. Shocking herself.

He looked abashed. “I wanted to give you something special but useful.”

“I love it. So thoughtful.” She felt herself blushing.

He stepped away from her, acting uncomfortable. “I’m going to feed the fire, bank it down for the night.”

She watched him, not knowing what else to do.

Then he escorted her to the bedroom curtain. “Night... Judith,” he said formally.

“Good night, Asa,” she replied, her throat thick with gratitude for his understanding. It felt strange to call a stranger by his given name and to hear him address her in the same way.

She entered the room and sat down on the bed, suddenly spent. For a moment she just sat there, gazing around in the scant light, listening to Asa moving about the cabin, barring the door and then extinguishing the lamp. She heard the ladder rungs creak as he mounted them to sleep in the loft.

Finally she let out a sigh. Sights, sounds jumbled in her mind. She swept them away by rising and preparing herself for sleep. Light from the fire around the curtain provided just enough for her to do what she needed, and soon she snuggled into the chilly bed, shivering slightly.

Her deep fatigue and rampant confusion fought it out, but fatigue won and her eyes closed just as she finished her nightly prayer. It included concern for her sister, whose day had not gone as expected, either.

At the last moment, she recalled that upon meeting Asa, she’d thought she’d seen him somewhere before. But that was ridiculous, probably just nerves. She’d given her promises to Asa, and even if she wasn’t the pretty sister, the one men always paid attention to, she would do her best to be a good wife.

* * *

Asa soon wrapped himself in his quilts on the pallet he’d made up in the loft. The knowledge that someone else was sleeping here leaked through him, easing a tightness in his chest. A woman was here, and he wouldn’t face another long winter alone in his cabin.

Yet after the war, he’d come to the cabin wanting to be alone.

Army camps had been crowded, teeming with thousands of men. He’d never been able to get away, by himself. And when he’d returned home, people had sought him out and brought up the war every time they met him. He’d finally left home to come here to homestead, find peace. Put the past behind him...if he ever could. But he found that silence only caused him to remember sights he longed to forget.

He tried to relax and stretch out, forcing himself not to dwell on how pretty his bride was and how sweet. He began to tell himself that everything was going to turn out right. He had a place of his own and now a wife.

After they got used to each other, life would smooth out. His past, his secret guilt, would remain secret. She had not said a word about recognizing him. After all, she would have seen him only at a distance, and he’d been in uniform and bearded both times. He would be able to keep the past and the present separate.

He continued to reassure himself. He’d made a wise decision to go along with Mason Chandler and put that ad in the Dubuque paper. Everything was going to turn out fine. He’d survived a war. He could survive adjusting to marriage. Though the war had burned away all his tender feelings, he would be a good provider and try to think of his wife’s needs before his own. That’s the best he could do.


Chapter Two (#u46e5f362-2468-5a1e-b46a-c23631f5e8a2)

The next morning, Judith dressed and walked out through the curtain. She’d heard Asa, who had already built up the fire before he left, telling her he was going to milk the cows. She approached the area near the hearth that appeared to be the kitchen, preparing herself to make her first meal in her new home for her new husband.

She’d never cooked over an open fire before. Her home had always had a wood stove, but cooking was cooking, right? And she definitely didn’t want to make a mess of her first meal for Asa. On a wooden counter she found a bowl of brown eggs. Nearby in a barrel were a sack of flour and some other necessaries, and she began to mix up pancakes.

Outside she heard someone stomping his boots and then, with a gust of cold wind, Asa hurried inside. “Got a dusting of snow last night.” He hung his coat and muffler on pegs by the door.

“Well, that’s not surprising for March,” she replied, trying to sound natural, though her stomach was doing some kind of nervous jig.

“What’re you mixing up?”

“I thought pancakes for breakfast?”

He nodded. “Soon I’ll be tapping trees.” He set a jug of milk on the counter.

“Tapping trees?” She glanced over her shoulder at him.

“To make maple syrup.”

She sent him an approving glance. “You are an enterprising man, Asa Brant.”

He grunted in reply and walked over to warm his hands by the fire.

She was curious about this man. Now they could get to know each other better. “Did your father teach you how to tap trees?”

“Noah Whitmore taught me.”

“Noah?” She mixed in some of the milk he’d brought.

“Man who married us.”

“Oh.” The scene yesterday in the schoolhouse where they’d exchanged vows flooded her. She shook it off. “I’ve never cooked over an open fire before,” she admitted. “I take it I pour the batter into the skillet and then hold it over the fire?”

He moved to her side. “Right. Always warm the skillet over the fire first, melting the fat.” He opened a crock that obviously had fresh rendered tallow in it. “Here are a couple of trivets so you don’t have to hold the heavy pan and try to flip at the same time.” He pointed to the trivets stacked under the counter. Both wrought iron, one with shorter legs and one with longer.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll become accustomed.”

“Should have got you a wood stove. It might have been more practical than a sewing machine—”

Judith halted in midstep. “Asa, you chose the perfect wedding gift. I love to sew, and I’ve wanted a sewing machine...forever.” Their gazes locked. The air between them seemed to thicken, and she felt herself blush.

“Glad you like it,” he said finally.

“I do.” She looked down, and her stomach growled embarrassingly. “I better get these pancakes done.”

He stepped back.

She moved toward the fire and the trivet he’d positioned for her.

He suddenly gripped her arm. “Be mindful of your skirt near the fire. A woman was burned just this winter from not being careful.”

She halted with a gasp. “I’ll be careful.” She looked down to her skirt and where the fire was on the hearth. She set the cast iron skillet on the trivet, poured in batter and reached for the spatula. “I’ll be careful,” she repeated.

Asa grasped the coffeepot bubbling on a hook over the fire, moving to sit at the table. “Coffee?”

“Thank you, Asa.” She concentrated on the batter bubbling in the pan, then on flipping the first pancake and keeping her skirt back from the fire. Soon she carried a platter of pancakes to the table, where Asa had poured cups of coffee and set out a cruet of maple syrup and a jug of cream.

She bowed her head, waiting for Asa to offer grace. So far the morning was going well. Her husband was not talkative, but after all, they were strangers. And he had showed concern for her safety. That loosed the tightness within her.

* * *

She wanted him to pray? After a hesitation, Asa said simply the prayer his father had always prayed, “Thanks for the food and for the hands that prepared it. Amen.”

She looked up, shyly smiling.

Asa nodded and helped himself to the top two large golden pancakes. His mouth watered.

Judith waited for his first bite before she forked one onto her plate.

“Mmm-mmm.” He could not stop the sound of pleasure. “Made a nice big stack, too.”

“I guess I’m used to cooking for more than two,” she admitted. “My brother brought home a wife from Kentucky, but I still did the majority of the cooking.” She looked to him. “Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“Some of each.” Asa took another bite and chewed. A personal question—just what he wanted to avoid.

Judith was staring at him. The silence between them grew.

He couldn’t think of a safe subject, nothing too personal, to talk about. He’d forgotten how to make conversation.

Finally she broke the silence. “What kind of man is Mason Chandler?”

“Honest. Hardworking. I’m taking care of his cow and we hope a new calf soon,” he continued in between bites, “till he gets back.”

Another silence hung over them. He would have been happy just to eat with someone else at the table. But he could tell she wanted to find out more about him. How could he steer the conversation away from personal questions? He combed his mind for a topic.

“We have a cow, and I think I heard chickens outside?” she asked finally.

“Two cows of our own and about a dozen chickens.” He took another bite of pancake dripping with butter and syrup. They were so tasty and light, he felt like...doing something to thank this woman. She was watching him, so he continued the conversation as best he could. “I plan on buying a couple of shoats this spring to fatten through the summer. Make pork sausage this fall and cure some bacon.”

She nodded and continued eating. In between bites—and to his relief—she chattered about her home farm and family.

He got the distinct feeling that she didn’t like her sister-in-law. Soon breakfast ended and he rose from the table. And before he knew it, he said, “Fine meal, ma’am.” These were the words his father had said at the end of each meal. Asa hadn’t seen his family since he moved here and barely wrote. Having this woman here was stirring him up, making him remember what family was.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “What are you up to today?”

“Have some work in the barn, and I’ll bring more wood in, too.” He motioned toward the nearly empty wood box near the door.

“I’ll wash up,” she said, “and then I need to get more acquainted with my kitchen.”

“Make a list of supplies, whatever you need.” And then, pulling on his jacket, he shut the door behind himself.

* * *

Taken aback by his abrupt departure, Judith stood and carried the dishes to the counter, where a dishpan sat. Well, dirty dishes constituted a common and inevitable part of her life. She wondered for a moment if Mabel Joy, her brother’s Kentucky wife, was enjoying being on her own without help from Emma and her. Mabel Joy had wanted them gone, and they were.

Her husband’s use of the married title, ma’am, had startled her. She’d been a miss for so long, thought she’d always be. Mabel Joy had taunted her, telling her it was too bad she was plain and no man would ever marry her. Well, someone had married her. I am married.

Judith tried not to let the newness, the strangeness of this cabin, of having a husband she never expected to have, unsettle her. “I’ll become accustomed soon and then this will feel like home.” Tears rushed into her eyes. Was this mere homesickness? Or regret? Or fear? But of what? Everything had gone well.

Except that Asa’s reply to her one personal question had gone unanswered. Why hadn’t he just told her how many brothers and sisters he had? It had been a commonplace question. Had he been teasing her? He hadn’t sounded so. A feeling of unease flickered inside her. She shook herself and began cleaning up breakfast. The large midday meal would come soon enough. I’m being foolish to fret. My husband is just not a talker by nature, that’s all. He will come to know me and then he will speak more.

* * *

On the wagon bench two mornings after their wedding day, Asa and Judith set out for town to do a few errands. Normally they would have walked into town, but he needed the blacksmith to check one horse’s shoe, and the metal rim of one of his wagon wheels needed fixing. And he didn’t know how much Judith would be buying at the store.

He felt his wife warm at his side. I’m not alone anymore. A blessing. And a worry. So far he thought he’d done a pretty good job of keeping up the pretense of a good husband. After all, she couldn’t see inside him, inside where he was a hollowed-out shell. He’d drawn on memories of how his mother and father had behaved together. If he could just keep that up, all would be well. Under a clear blue sky, he drew in a deep draft of the sharp early March air.

Though the sun shone bright and warmed his face, the horses’ hooves still threw up snow on their way into town. He and Judith had navigated through two days of marriage. He’d successfully avoided any and all personal questions. She’d asked him what his hometown was; he mentioned visiting Chicago. She’d asked if he’d served in the Union Army and he’d nodded and then asked about her family. He thought he’d done pretty well under the circumstances. He understood his wife’s wanting to ask him things. Women did that.

But soon she’d be more used to him and then there would be no more personal questions. And also no more temptation for him to answer them. Somehow his new wife caused him to want to open up, tell her about himself. But if he started, couldn’t that go too far? Reveal everything? He mentally shook himself. Enough thinking.

“Wish the thaw would begin in earnest,” he said to break the silence. “These bright sunny days make me want to get out and begin tilling my fields. Yet it’s way too early.”

She turned to him and looked pleased that he’d spoken. “Yes, I understand. It would be good to open the cabin and let the fresh air inside.”

And he thought that their relative idleness might be another reason for her asking questions. Once they were busy with the productive part of the year, farming, gardening and such, they’d settle into an easy pattern of being busy, too busy for personal questions and they’d just make do with idle conversation. He wanted to hear her fill up the silence but not ask him to join in. Even he noted the inconsistency in this. But it was the truth.

“And I’m looking forward to seeing my sister, Emma.”

To this, he nodded. He’d almost forgotten her sister would be there.

As soon as they reached town, Asa pulled up in front of Ashford’s. He guided Judith inside and breathed in the scents of the tidy general store—primarily dried apples and cinnamon. He felt relieved. He could leave her here for a while and not have to watch every word he said or she said.

“Mr. and Mrs. Brant! I saw you from my window.” Mrs. Ashford hurried into the store from the rear. “How are the newlyweds?”

Asa nodded politely. “Doing fine, ma’am.” He touched Judith’s elbow and then turned and left. Saved by the storekeeper’s wife. She’d talk Judith’s ear off, and perhaps that would satisfy his wife’s desire for ready conversation.

* * *

Bolstered by his touch and being greeted as a wife, not a pitied spinster, Judith smiled at Mrs. Ashford. “I’m here to buy some spices. I guess bachelors use only salt and pepper.”

“You give Ned your list, then come on up,” the woman instructed. “Your sister and I are just finishing up a few chores and have time for a chat.”

Judith watched the woman head up the back stairs. She went to the counter and handed the storekeeper her list. After discussing the items as to quantities and specifics, she followed Mrs. Ashford.

How was spontaneous and lively Emma faring living with these strangers, and was she upset her intended had not been here to meet her? Judith also craved a private chat with Emma about her puzzlement over Asa. She hoped that Mrs. Ashford would grant her and Emma a few moments alone to talk.

Judith found that a vain hope.

Mrs. Ashford poured them all fresh, steaming coffee and then sat at the head of the dining table. Judith had been given the seat with the view out the windows toward the river. She watched a steamboat heading toward the Pepin pier. “I love your view.”

“Yes, I told Mr. Ashford to build on this side of Main Street. I wanted a good view. The forest can be so forbidding. Plus if the river ever floods, we’ll be on higher ground. The shops across the street are much too close to the river.”

Judith glimpsed the blacksmith’s sign across and to her right. That’s where Asa was. Her heart tightened. Something was trapped within Asa and she didn’t know what. He was like a parcel glued and tied shut. Was this just due to their being strangers to one another? Yes, that must be it, she hoped.

“Now, how is it going with you and Mr. Brant?” the storekeeper’s wife asked the very question Judith could not quite figure out herself.

And what did the woman expect her to say? “He won’t talk to me and I can’t figure out why”? “We’re doing fine. Just getting to know each other. Asa is so considerate.” But secretive. Or maybe not. Maybe men just didn’t talk much about themselves. But why can’t he even tell me how many brothers and sisters he has or the name of his hometown? Judith pushed this out of her mind and hoped her expression revealed nothing.

Mrs. Ashford was staring at her, obviously wanting more details about the newlyweds.

Casting around for a safe subject, Judith lifted her cup in front of her face. “Mr. Brant—Asa—presented me with a sewing machine for a wedding gift.”

“I know!” Mrs. Ashford crowed. “I helped him choose it from the catalogue for you. Such a thoughtful gift, and so useful.”

Judith agreed, interrupting the flow of the woman’s conversation.

“It’s too bad the weather has been so cold. We usually have a lovely spring here in Pepin.” Their hostess kept up a steady stream of chatter, to which she and Emma merely had to agree.

Judith was aware that her sister was trying to hide mirth at Mrs. Ashford’s curiosity and constant chattering. Emma possessed a ready and sometimes inappropriate sense of humor. Judith sent her a reproving glance.

Emma bit her lower lip.

Judith thought, Please, can’t I have a moment alone with my sister?

As if Mrs. Ashford heard Judith’s thought, she rose from the table. “I need to brown the beef for lunch and start it cooking. Please excuse me.”

Judith drew in a relieved but silent breath.

Emma muffled a giggle behind her hand.

Judith scolded and quizzed her sister with a glance.

“She never stops talking,” Emma whispered, “unless she’s eating or sleeping.”

Judith lifted her hands in a gesture that said What can I do about that?

“She’s really nice and kind, but I have trouble not teasing her. I don’t think she’d appreciate it.” Emma’s expression became serious. “How are you doing? What’s worrying you?”

Though she and Emma weren’t identical twins, they had always been attuned to each other. “It’s nothing, really.” Judith spoke in a low tone. “It’s just that Asa...avoids everyday questions. I asked him if he had brothers and sisters and he said, �Some of each.’”

Emma laughed.

Judith glared at her. “It’s not funny. We get along very well unless I ask him a personal question.”

“Perhaps he’s just a very private person,” Emma suggested.

“Even with his wife?”

“His very new wife. Just give it time, Judith.” Emma pressed a hand over Judith’s, which clutched her coffee cup.

Judith nodded. Her sister had given her good advice. She relaxed her hands. “What are you keeping busy doing?”

“I help with some chores, and yesterday I helped in the store. Mr. Ashford did it out of kindness, I think, to give me a chance to talk to someone besides his wife and daughter. The people here are really—”

They heard the sound of rapid footsteps and then Mr. Ashford called from the back door, “Katherine! You’ll never believe this!”

Both Judith and Emma turned to see the storekeeper hurry into the room and over to the front window. Mrs. Ashford bustled out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “What is it?”

Mr. Ashford waved a paper. “This is his letter of resignation, and there he goes. He’s getting on the boat! I can’t believe it!”

“Who?” Mrs. Ashford said, joining her husband at the window. “That’s Mr. Thompson, the schoolmaster!”

“Yes! He just resigned!”

“What?” Mrs. Ashford squawked. “He can’t leave in the middle of the school year!”

“Well, there he goes,” Emma said. She’d moved to stand beside the Ashfords at the window.

“What got into him?” the storekeeper’s wife asked.

Mr. Ashford frowned down at the letter. “It just says he must go home because of a personal crisis.”

“What will we do come Monday? Who will teach?” Mrs. Ashford wailed.

“We can’t ask Mrs. Lang. She’s busy with her little ones.” The storekeeper stared out the window. Then he swung to Emma. “Miss Jones, will you please take over downstairs? I need to go to Noah Whitmore and Martin Steward, the other school board members, right away.”

“Of course,” Emma agreed. “I can handle matters.”

“Thank you.” Mr. Ashford was taking off his long store apron and hurrying toward the rear entrance. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, Katherine. Just keep a plate warm for me.” And then he was jogging down the steps, pulling on his jacket and hat.

“Well, I never,” Mrs. Ashford said. “What is the world coming to?”

“I don’t know,” Emma replied. “I’ll head downstairs.”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Ashford said. “Call me if you need any help.”

“I will.” Emma snagged a shawl and headed down the back steps. “Sorry, Judith!”

Judith rose. “I don’t know what to say. May I help you in the kitchen? Or go help my sister?”

Mrs. Ashford pulled herself together. “Why don’t you go down and help your sister finish your shopping? I’m making plenty of lunch. When your husband comes back, you two are more than welcome to stay and eat with us.”

The woman was indeed kind and hospitable. “Thank you. But I think he’ll want to go home as soon as we’re done.”

“I understand.” The woman beamed at her. “Newlyweds.” And then she returned to the kitchen.

Blushing, Judith donned her shawl and carried the rest of her warm wraps outside and into the store. The thought occurred to her that people here might look to her sister to fill in at the school, but that wouldn’t work. Emma had applied to teach in their home district and had been turned down as “not having the serious temperament necessary in an educator of children.” Nonjudgmental Emma had been surprised, but Judith hadn’t.

Very smart and good at all subjects, Emma would have made a lovely teacher, but all through school she’d been scolded for her humor and sudden outbursts of excited interest. Emma would never be the strict spinster teacher that school boards preferred. Emma was too pretty and jolly for them.

* * *

Carrying a sack of spices, Judith hurried inside, chilled from the short ride home. Asa came in after her and set several bags on the table. He went immediately to the banked fire and stirred it back to life.

“That woman can sure talk,” he said, rising. Asa had surprised her by accepting Mrs. Ashford’s lunch invitation.

Judith chuckled. “Yes, but her Salisbury steak and potatoes did not disappoint.”

“Can’t argue that. You need me right now? I have to take care of the horses.”

“No.”

He headed toward the door.

“But,” she said, halting him, “it occurred to Emma and me that we haven’t written home to our father. He isn’t in good health, and I want him to know Emma and I arrived safely and are doing well.”

“A good idea. We can give it to Ashford tomorrow at church. Mr. Ashford’s the local postmaster.” He opened the door.

“Asa, wait. I’d like you to write a line to my father. I think that would reassure him.” Her father had been very concerned about his twin daughters going away to marry strangers.

Asa paused, his expression froze into vertical lines. “I’ll see about that later.” He escaped out the door.

Escaped exactly described his exit.

Judith stood by the dry sink, unable to move for a moment. Then she walked to the chair by the table and sat. Why would writing a line to her father flummox her husband? What could be more natural or simple? Something more than natural reticence was at work here. She thought over the many letters he’d written her. It wasn’t that he couldn’t write a few lines. He didn’t want to. Why? Why did he avoid any mention of anything personal? What was wrong with her simple request? What was going on within her husband?

Feeling confused, she bowed her head and whispered, “Heavenly Father, something is not right. What is it? What should I do? Say? Should I confront Asa plainly?”

At the word confront, panic swept over her. The old pang twisted around her heart. She pictured again that day in 1861. Tom Southby had been going off to war, and she’d decided she couldn’t let him go without telling him how she felt. With a red face, Tom had thanked her for caring for him but said he couldn’t return the same to her. Once again she flushed with the heated humiliation over those horrible moments. He’d said they’d always been the best of friends and he wanted to leave it at that. Best of friends. She’d been in love with him since sixth grade. Yet it wasn’t Tom’s fault that she wasn’t pretty enough.

With effort, she mastered the old hurt and shame. Praying for guidance and peace, she sat for several minutes, hoping for something to occur to her. Then she recalled her late mother’s favorite verse, Isaiah 26:3. “You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is steadfast because he trusts in You.”

One thing came clear. She was allowing Asa’s hesitance to reveal anything about himself to disturb her peace. And that was what she’d really come here to find—a husband and a peaceful life with him. She went over the past two days and the innocent questions she’d asked her new husband and his avoidance of replying to each one.

She recalled Mrs. Ashford’s favorable assessment of Asa’s character. “Lord, I feel I’ve married a good-intentioned man,” she murmured. “I sense nothing false about him. He doesn’t make up answers to suit my questions. That’s what a dishonest man would do. But why is talking about himself an issue for him?”

No answer came, but her tension eased. Heartened just a little, she straightened and slowly rose. She had chores to do and a life to live. “I’m not alone, Father. You are here with me, and I trust You. I would not have come here just to escape my contentious sister-in-law. You opened this door, and Emma and I walked through it. We both had peace about this decision. And now I’ve given my sacred pledge to Asa. No turning back.”

She picked up the sack of spices and looked for a place to store them. She continued her audible prayer. “And, Lord, help Emma find a place and a new beginning here. It’s too bad she’s not suited to teach.”

She drew herself up and began humming her mother’s favorite hymn, drawing strength from its words and hearing her mother’s voice in her memory. “Come thou fount of every blessing.” Judith had much to sing about—a husband and home of her own along with a beloved sister nearby and, as always, a faithful God—and finally work to do, a kitchen to organize.

Maybe she wasn’t a woman that a man would fall in love with, but she could take care of a house and be a helpmeet. She could hold up her end of the bargain she’d made with Asa. She could be a good wife. Experience had taught her that love was for pretty girls like Emma and even unlikable Mabel Joy, but not her.


Chapter Three (#u46e5f362-2468-5a1e-b46a-c23631f5e8a2)

On the way to church on Sunday morning, Asa thought over the few days he’d been married. When he had rejoined her yesterday, Judith had not repeated her request that he write a note to her father. In the end he’d decided he must write a line in that letter or cause more questions. What were the odds that the woman he married would be someone he recognized? The memory of when they had seen each other in person over a decade ago came flooding back to him. He’d been elected captain of the Rock River Illinois Militia, and all the volunteers had gathered at the train station in Rockford to set off for war. Remembering how callow and naive he and the other militia volunteers had been expanded through him like hot grapeshot. They’d thought the war would end in weeks, not years.

As Asa drove down Main Street past all the shops closed for the Sabbath, his thoughts filled with the past.

That day in 1861, all the militia families had come to see their men off. Judith and Emma had been there in the crowd. Of course he hadn’t been introduced to Judith individually but to all the families of the Illinois militia. Later, however, her brother Gil had often showed him the tintype of his pretty twin sisters, a connection to home.

But obviously Judith didn’t remember seeing him that day, or the day when what was left of the militia had returned in ’65. Relief whistled through him once more.

Bringing him back to the present, the schoolhouse door came into view. Soon he halted his team and went around to Judith. She braced herself on his arms as he helped her down.

The soft expression on her face worked on him. He resisted the urge to pull her close. Instead he handed her the cloth-covered cake she’d baked for the after-church social. “I’ll take the horses to their area and then join you inside,” he said.

“Thank you, Asa.” Judith paused. “Where do you usually sit?”

Asa grinned, understanding that even in church, people claimed their places. “Near the back on the right.”

She smiled in return and walked over the packed snow to the school entrance. The door opened and a man’s voice called, “Welcome. Come in from the cold.”

Asa steered his team to the long hitching shelter. He had already blanketed his team before leaving home and had slipped on their blinders to block their interacting with the other teams of horses also tied under the roof.

He’d helped build this shelter himself last fall and had suggested the windbreaks on three sides. His team would be fine under cover and out of direct wind. He turned and walked resolutely toward the schoolhouse. He noted his wife had dressed with care for the Sunday service. Of course everyone would be watching them.

Getting married had disturbed his ordinary life, during which he’d kept everyone at arm’s length. It was all so confusing. And he must keep this new inner confusion over his unexpected attraction to his bride—to her thick, dark hair, pert nose and warm brown eyes—concealed behind an untroubled face.

* * *

Tense, Judith stepped inside the school, carrying her cake plate. Asa had told her that in the winter, everyone who wanted to brought a covered dish and stayed after services to eat and talk. So she’d baked a brown butter cake yesterday. Today would be the first time since their wedding that she and Asa had appeared together before the whole community. Though Emma liked attention, Judith did not. But now it would be unavoidable. She crafted a smile and put it in place. No one must see any division between Asa and her. Or it would invite speculation.

The worship service went smoothly, and then it was time for the potluck dinner. Within a very few moments, the men had set up folding tables and positioned the school benches around them. And after the deacon, Gordy Osbourne, said grace, the potluck began. Everyone filled their plates from a variety of fragrant bowls and platters.

Judith didn’t want to slight anybody, so she took a spoonful or piece of everything. With her plate full, she found herself and Asa sitting with the couple who had welcomed her at the door and another young couple, the blacksmith and his wife, Levi and Posey Comstock. Judith had hoped to sit near Emma, but her sister had stayed near the Ashfords.

Judith waved to her and Emma waved back, her expression one of suppressed excitement. What had happened to cause that? Had she gotten word that her intended husband, Mason Chandler, was returning?

Judith ate and replied to those who spoke to her, but primarily she listened in order to learn more about her new neighbors. Then, near the end of the meal, Mr. Ashford rose. “May I have your attention, please?”

Everyone fell silent and turned to look at the storekeeper.

“Many of you know but others may not be aware that we lost our teacher yesterday.”

A few startled gasps, and then the room swelled with upset murmuring.

Mr. Ashford held up his hand. “The school board has already met and has found a replacement so that school will go on.”

Judith then glimpsed her sister’s face. And she thought, Oh, no.

“Miss Emma Jones has consented to finish out the school year as interim teacher.”

Judith felt her jaw drop and quickly shut her mouth so no one would detect her hesitation over this development. Would Emma be able to curb her naturally lively personality enough to please the town?

“Miss Jones,” Ashford continued, “completed eleventh grade with honors and is of impeccable reputation. And we have stressed to her the importance of preparing our students to compete in the upcoming Third Annual Pepin Regional Spelling Bee in April.”

The murmurs switched from surprised dismay to approval, many heads were nodding and everyone was smiling at her sister. Judith forced herself to look pleased and approving. But the phrase from years ago played in her mind: “not having the serious temperament necessary in an educator of children.”

Had Emma forgotten? That didn’t seem likely. Judith tried to remember how Emma had reacted to that rejection. But it had happened in the midst of the war, and that conflagration had overshadowed everything else.

Should she say something to Emma? No. The matter had gone too far. And since the school year would no doubt end in May, perhaps all would be well. And after all, Emma was nearly a decade older than she’d been during her first attempt at becoming a teacher. She might not upset the school board with her liveliness.

Then Judith recalled Emma’s advice to her as they chugged into sight of Pepin a week ago: “embrace the adventure.” Well, Judith only hoped Emma’s latest adventure would turn out for the best. She didn’t want her sister’s feelings to be hurt.

Asa leaned close to her ear. “Something wrong?”

She turned to him and whispered, “No. I just wasn’t expecting this.” She would tell him what she really felt when they were alone.

He nodded and rested his hand over hers.

For that moment she forgot how to breathe. She tried to dismiss this and behave as though his touch had not affected her so. She looked to the front of this room where they had pledged themselves to each other. She recalled his gentle, chaste kiss and Asa’s whisper, “I’ll do right by you, Judith.” She trusted Asa, but the worry lingered. What wasn’t he trusting her with?

* * *

Late on the next day, Asa finished washing up at the dry sink and then took his seat at the table. Judith had prepared another deliciously fragrant meal for him. She was using up the last of the venison from the smokehouse in a stew. She set the pot in the center of the table. And then sat down across from him. The pleasure of the moment of having a pretty, cheerful woman here and the scent of well-prepared food flooded him. Caution leaped up inside him like a wall, a fortress around his feelings. He couldn’t afford this softening. He couldn’t let down his guard or all the regret might unman him. He didn’t want anyone to know about his war record. If he did, the talk would begin. And no one would let him live in peace.

She bowed her head, waiting for him to say grace. Then, with effort, he voiced his usual grace without betraying his anxiety and looked up to watch her dish up his plate first.

Judith paused and pursed her lips. “Emma is very bright and very good. But sometimes her high spirits can carry her away.”

He wondered what she was leading up to.

She sighed and then looked across at him. “I hope her high spirits don’t upset the school board.”

Hearing the concern in her voice and not knowing what he could do, he shrugged. Then a thought came. “What everyone is really most concerned about is that she prepare the students for the big spelling bee in April. If she does that right, I don’t think they’ll care about her high spirits.”

Judith gazed at him. Then, reaching across the table, she touched his hand. “Thank you. I know I’m only four minutes older than her, but in temperament, I am the older sister. And I worry about her sometimes.”

She glanced downward. “Asa, I’d like to invite the Ashfords and Emma for dinner someday. But there are a few things that I’d need to buy for the house before we have company.” Still not meeting his gaze, she raised a hand. “Nothing extravagant. I need fabric to make window curtains and dishcloths. I’d like to buy a set of dishes, not china, just sturdy everyday dishes.” She glanced up then, looking uncertain.

He looked down at the dented tin plates and mugs he’d always used. Of course a woman would want better than this. “Sorry,” he said, his voice coming back. “I should have discussed our finances with you. You buy whatever you need.”

He cleared his throat. “Our fields will provide most of our food. I hunt in the fall. And in the winter, I work with leather. The blacksmith keeps those belts and harnesses and sells them for me.” He rose and went to the hearth. “Come here.”

She obeyed him.

He showed her the loose stone that hid a cavity in the side of the fireplace and the small cloth sack of gold and silver coins stashed there. “We have plenty, Judith. Just tell Mr. Ashford to put everything on our tab. I pay him once a month.”

“Thank you, Asa. I’m not an extravagant woman, but I do want to—” she waved a hand toward the room “—make everything more homey.”

He returned to his place at the table, and she followed him.

“I want you to...do that, too,” he said. But you’ve done so much more. The chain around his heart tightened. If only he had more than a house and sustenance to offer her. Judith deserved the best. But he would give her the best he could of the material world. The pity was that he could not give her more of his true self, his empty heart.

* * *

The thaw had started. All around, Judith heard the sound of water trickling and dripping from the roof and the rivulets that ran down the trail toward town. She hummed as she finished setting the table for six. Her first dinner party would be today. The Ashfords and Emma were coming for supper. The cabin door and both windows stood open to let in the breath of spring. This would be her debut as the mistress of her own home, inviting others to a meal.

She’d planned the supper carefully. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, tender dandelion greens salad, her mother’s cloverleaf rolls and cherry pie for dessert. She glanced toward the window, where the two dishcloth-covered pies were cooling on the sill.

Then, glancing at the clock, she took the last of the chicken out of the skillet, spitting hot and golden. She set it on the pan in the warming oven. Then she went out to the springhouse to get the cream to whip up for the pie.

She heard the voices of people walking up the trail. She quickly retrieved the cream from this morning’s milking and hurried toward the house.

“Judith!” Her sister’s happy voice carried to her.

“Emma!” Judith replied and then hurried inside to change into her clean apron for the final preparations.

As she walked in, Asa stepped out of the bedroom, where he dressed. He looked very handsome in a blue-and-white-striped shirt she’d pressed this morning. He was freshly shaved and his hair was neat. She stood rooted to the spot. She had married a handsome man. Once again the sensation of recognition trickled through her and then vanished.

Emma reached the door first. “Sister!”

Setting down the pot of cream, Judith swung around and welcomed her sister with a quick hug for her first visit there. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me, too,” Emma replied, sniffing the air. “Your fried chicken?”

Judith nodded, looking past her sister and welcoming the Ashfords inside. A happy hubbub of welcomes and greetings filled the next few minutes. Then everyone had entered and their guests had sat down on the benches by the table—all except Mrs. Ashford, who was walking around as if on an inspection tour.

She paused at Judith’s grandmother’s sampler. “This is very fine handwork. And is it on silk?”

“Yes,” Emma spoke up and explained the history of the piece.

Judith listened as she mashed the potatoes, mixing in butter, salt and pepper with warm milk.

Mrs. Ashford pronounced her verdict. “That’s an heirloom.” Then she beamed at Judith. “You have a very cozy home here.”

Pleased, Judith finished the potatoes and set them on a trivet near the fire. “I just need to whip up the cream for our dessert and then we can eat.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Amanda Ashford asked.

“No, I think everything is in hand.” Judith walked to the window, holding the bowl of cream in the crook of one arm and whipping the cream with a wire whisk. Then she gasped. One of her pies was missing.

“What is it, Judith?” Emma asked.

Judith turned. “I baked two pies, but one is gone.”

Everyone rose from the table to look at the windowsill, where one pie still sat under a dishcloth. The two men hurried outside to see if the pie had somehow fallen off the sill.

Asa looked at Judith through the open window. “No sign of it.”

Her husband appeared as puzzled as she felt.

“What could have happened to it?” Amanda asked.

“An animal?” Mrs. Ashford suggested.

“That would have left a mess here.” Outside, Mr. Ashford pointed toward the ground.

“Yes,” Emma agreed, “and an animal would not have any use for the pan.”

“A tramp,” Mrs. Ashford pronounced, frowning. “Must have snuck up, snatched it and run. We get them this close to the river. Drifters following it north or south.”

“I wish he’d just asked,” Judith said. “I’d never let anyone go away hungry.”

“Well, one pie’s gone, but we still have one,” Asa said. “When do we eat, ma’am?”

Judith shook her head at him but smiled at his teasing tone.

“Yes, let’s not spoil our meal,” Emma said.

The men came back into the cabin and settled around the table. Judith soon set out the dishes family-style. The dinner guests ate with gusto and offered many compliments. Judith ate and replied, but she still wondered. Who had taken the pie?

* * *

Two mornings later, Judith awakened with a plan. Yesterday, which was laundry day and the day after the pie had gone missing, someone had taken one of Asa’s shirts drying on her clothesline. Someone was not only hungry but also needed clothing. She thought of the verses in Matthew 25.

“Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: For I was hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: Naked, and ye clothed me.”

But how to do that? At home in Illinois, usually tramps had stopped at the door to ask. She didn’t think this person was going to do that. Then the plan had come to her. She needed to bait the hook and see who nabbed it. After breakfast, Asa had reminded her that he was helping out a neighbor with clearing more land and would be gone till lunch.

Perfect. She didn’t want Asa to know what she was doing. Her plan sounded...childish, but it might work. She bid Asa goodbye and then baked two cinnamon cakes, set one on the windowsill where the pie had been and then slipped inside the springhouse, which gave her an excellent view of the window. The scent of cinnamon from the cake floated on the wind.

At first, anticipation and a bit of apprehension kept Judith alert, but an hour passed with only squirrels on tree branches eyeing the prize on the sill. She began daydreaming, thinking of fabric she’d seen at the Ashfords’ store.

Then she heard it—soft padding of feet and the brushing back of branches. She peered out the cracked-open springhouse door and saw them. She nearly gasped aloud.

She glimpsed two children, a boy of around nine and a younger girl, who was wearing Asa’s shirt as a dress. The boy left the girl in the cover of the evergreens and approached the house with stealth.

Judith sat very still, watching the boy reach up and take the cake and stuff it into a small cloth bag. Then he hurried back to the girl.

Judith nearly leaped from her seat, but she counted to ten, then slipped outside, going after the children. She needed to find out where they were coming from. Did they have family? Fortunately, as a child, she and Emma had played Cowboys and Indians with their older brother, so she knew how to creep behind someone. The trees and wild shrubs concealed her. She followed the two more by sound than by sight.

Finally the two stopped muting their voices and halted.

Judith peered through the evergreen boughs and observed them devouring her cake. Behind them, the opening to what must be a cave explained where they lived.

Two children living alone in a cave? Why? Where were their parents? Family?

She sat very still, watching them as they sat on the bare ground, eating and then drinking from a natural spring that ran from the rock near the cave opening. They needed her assistance but they were hiding, not coming to her door to ask. Why not?

Well, right now she must attempt to help them, regardless. She rose and stepped out of the cover of the forest. “Good day, children.”

The two of them leaped up. The boy shoved the girl behind his back and picked up a large rock. “Don’t you come any closer!”

She opened her hands and showed that she held no weapon. “I’m Mrs. Brant. What are your names?”

“I’m Lily,” the girl said.

“Nice to meet you, Lily.” Judith smiled but stayed where she was, letting them get used to her.

“This is Colton—” Lily began.

“Hush,” Colton said. “Lady, you go on home. Lily and I are doin’ fine.”

She surveyed their matted hair, grimy hands and faces, clothes caked with mud, and thin arms and legs. Though unhappy at their plight, she still smiled and kept her voice gentle. “I’ve come to invite you to eat lunch with my husband and me.”

“Lunch!” Lily jumped with obvious excitement. She hurried toward Judith.

Colton tried to stop her, but the girl skirted him, went to Judith and took the hand she offered. “Do you cook good?”

Judith was caught between amusement and sadness. Lily must have been only around six, so she still had a child’s trust, but Colton had lost his. Who had driven these children into the forest to fend for themselves like Hansel and Gretel?

“Colton, I know you don’t know me well. But I am offering you a free meal. You can leave afterward. And I promise not to tell anybody but my husband about this place.” She didn’t want Colton to leave for fear of her.

Colton studied her for a long time.

She waited.

Finally the boy put down the rock and walked toward her. “Okay. We’ll come, but we ain’t stayin’.”

“I only invited you for lunch,” she replied. “I mean you no harm.”

He snorted.

Her heart ached for a boy trying to care for himself and a little sister. She longed to rattle off questions, but pressed her lips together. The two were like wild deer. She didn’t want to spook them. Then Asa came to mind.

What would he say when he came home for lunch and, without warning, found two tattered urchins at his table? Now she realized that she should have discussed this with her husband. Would he object? With a deep sigh, she began praying for wisdom, for guidance, not only for her but also for Asa.

Would he be displeased with her for acting on her own, for not minding her own business? The fact that her husband was still somewhat a stranger to her—and that he held her at arm’s length—kept her feeling insecure. Surely he wouldn’t send the children away, would he?


Chapter Four (#u46e5f362-2468-5a1e-b46a-c23631f5e8a2)

Out of the forest, swishing through the ankle-deep just-greening wild grass, Judith led the children the last few feet into her clearing, praying that Asa, taken by surprise, would not say or do anything that would frighten them away. With regret, she again scolded herself that he wouldn’t if she’d prepared him for what she had planned. She prayed for Asa’s underlying goodness to shine out and be sensed by these children.

Lily skipped along beside her, chattering away about Clara, her soiled, limp rag doll lying over her arm. “That’s my favorite name, Clara,” the little girl said.

“That is a very pretty name, but so is Lily. I love lilies, especially tiger lilies.” Judith sensed Colton lagging behind. Glancing over her shoulder, she observed him studying the area as if looking for any possible danger. Or perhaps an escape route.

“What’s a tiger lily?” the little girl asked.

“It’s a yellow or orange lily that blooms in the summer. We may have some growing around here.” Judith sent the girl a happy smile that masked her growing misgivings. Mimicking in sound her tightening tension, a chickadee in a nearby tree called out, “Chickadee-dee-dee. Chickadee-dee-dee.”

What would Asa say when he saw whom she’d invited for lunch? Her lungs tightened.

As if he heard her thought, Asa stepped out of the barn and, when he saw them, halted.

Colton halted.

Lily halted.

Judith clung to Lily’s hand and drew her forward. “I’m so happy you accepted my invitation to have lunch,” she said a bit louder than usual. “Hello, Asa! This is Lily and her brother, Colton. Children, this is my husband, Asa Brant.”

Asa sized up their guests, his expression unreadable. “Hello, children.”

He studied Judith as if asking a question and awaiting the answer. And she mouthed, “Pie. Shirt.”

After studying the little girl’s makeshift dress, his shirt, he nodded slowly. He inhaled. “What’s for lunch?”

Judith thanked him with a smile. He was going along with her plan without asking questions. “I made salt pork and beans and some brown bread. And—” she hoped this would help lagging Colton come the last few feet to their door “—I baked cinnamon—”

“Cake!” Lily crowed. “It’s good.” With these words she revealed that they’d already sampled one.

“Better wash up,” Asa said. He walked over to the outdoor pitcher and basin and began to soap his hands.

Lily let go of Judith’s hand and ran to stand beside Asa. “I know how to wash my hands all by myself.”

“Good.” Asa handed her the bar of soap. He glanced over his shoulder. “Boy?”

Colton caught up with Judith but did not approach Asa. He waited till he and Lily were done. When Asa stepped away from the basin and went to pump more water into the pitcher, Colton washed his hands, but stuck close to Judith, still watchful of his sister. That told Judith much. They did not deem her a threat, but the man of the house might be.

Soon the four of them with clean hands sat at the table, the children side by side on a bench, which was usually tucked away against the wall. Asa offered his customary brief grace, and then Judith began to dish up bowls of the beans, fragrant with molasses, and thick slices of bread. The contrast between the children’s clean hands and their grimy faces and matted hair caused Judith to itch to give both children a good scrubbing, brushing and combing.

“Can I have butter on my bread?” Lily asked.

“You may if you say please,” Judith replied automatically.

“Please, can I have butter on my bread?” Lily asked.

Judith buttered a slice thickly and set it on the girl’s plate.

“What do you say?” Asa prompted, sounding stern.

“Thank you,” Lily said, then bit into her bread. “Mmm.”

Grateful for the way Asa had gone along with this unexpected turn of events, Judith still worried. How could they keep the children here? Would Asa want that? What did the town do with orphans here? But were they orphans or runaways? How had these two little ones ended up on their own in a cave?

She chewed mechanically, trying to come up with what to do. The children ate as if starved. The pork and beans disappeared. Soon she was setting a second cake on the table, the first having served as successful bait.

Asa ate his portion and then looked at Colton. “Think you know something about a pie that disappeared from our windowsill?”

Colton jerked up from the bench.

Why had Asa said this? Not knowing and not wanting to contradict him, Judith held her breath. Would the children bolt?

“Sit back down,” Asa said. “I’m not going to turn you over to the sheriff.”

Judith stilled. She did not know what Asa was doing so she had no way of countering it, softening it.

Colton stayed standing, wary.

“We took the pie,” Lily said. “We were really hungry, and Colton’s trap didn’t catch anything. Sorry.” The girl bowed her head and set a forkful of cake back on her plate.

Asa looked to the brother. “That what happened, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” Colton said, facing Asa squarely.

“Then I have a few chores you can do to work off what you owe me...us.”

At first Judith had to swallow a protest, and then she saw the wisdom of this. Or thought she did.

“What kind of chores?” Colton asked.

“I’m sharpening the blade of my plow. You could oil my plow harness.” Asa glanced toward Judith. “You have something Lily can help with?”

“Yes. She can dry the dishes and help me dust,” Judith improvised.

“I can do that,” Lily said, sounding happy that the chores were not beyond her abilities.

Asa looked to Judith, communicating something she couldn’t decipher. “Then we have a deal.” He rose from the table. “Children, thank Mrs. Brant for lunch. Good meal, ma’am,” he said, which was his usual end-of-meal phrase.

The little girl consumed the rest of her cake in two bites. “Good meal, ma’am,” Lily parroted.

Colton sat back down, finished drinking his glass of milk and ate the last bit of cake. “Thank you for the good lunch, Mrs. Brant.” He stood again. “Where’s that harness?”

“Where is that harness, sir?” Asa prompted.

Colton glared, his lower lip protruding. But he repeated the sentence, though with a surly edge.

Judith held her breath. Had Asa gone too far? Would he push the children to run?

Instead, Colton followed Asa outside. Lily drained her glass and popped up. “I can help.”

Judith rose and carried most of the dishes to the dry sink and counter. Lily followed her like a shadow and watched her intently. “I like your house,” the little girl said.

“Thank you. I do, too.”

The two of them chatted. Lily seemed happy to contribute her part, but she avoided all questions about her family. Once the little girl looked about to cry, so Judith returned the conversation to something light and easy.

The afternoon was far along when Colton appeared at the open cabin door. “You done with your chores, Lily?”

Lily looked up at Judith, her expression begging her to say no.

But the chores were done. “Yes, but won’t you stay—”

“We gotta go,” Colton insisted. He waved insistently at his little sister. “Come on.”

Lily left Judith’s side and went to her brother. Just before they left, she turned. “Thanks...thanks.”

Colton took his sister’s hand, and the two of them headed back to the forest.

Judith stepped outside and watched them go. Would they return to the cave or would they move on, afraid of...what? Who had made them afraid? Her heart hurt for them.

Asa remained in the barn.

Judith rarely ventured there, sensing that her new husband liked his privacy. Being married to a stranger who wouldn’t reveal anything about his past or thoughts often became awkward. The barn was his haven, hers the kitchen. But now she entered the barn, her emotions a storm.

Asa stood near his upturned plow in the shadowy interior that smelled like a clean barn should, earthy with the distinctive scent of horses and cows. Everything in the barn reflected Asa’s desire for neatness and order. The walls were adorned with pegs that sported all manner of tools and horse paraphernalia. She paused in the doorway, looking at him. She tried to come up with a way to introduce the subject of the children and what to do about them. Two children that young would not thrive living in a cave. And though spring and summer were ahead, winter would come again. Her husband did not like to talk, but they must discuss this. The children had come to their window. God had brought Colton and Lily to them. She cleared her throat and prayed for inspiration.

* * *

Hearing her come in, Asa, sitting at his small, slender work table, gazed at Judith, seeing her silhouette outlined in sunshine. Already knowing her tender heart, he shouldn’t have been surprised at her showing up with two ragamuffins. “Where’d you find them?” he asked.

She filled him in on the cake trap she’d set to catch the pie-and-shirt thief.

Fear for her, and anger, ricocheted through him. He stood. “You did that without telling me?” he snapped. “What if it hadn’t been children but a man...a tramp? Someone who might have hurt you.” He closed the distance between them.

“I don’t know why I didn’t tell you.” She lifted her hands in a helpless motion. “I guess I’m used to taking care of things myself. Father hasn’t been strong for a long time. My brother was gone to war. I’m the oldest.”

He drew a few deep breaths, calming himself.

“If a man had come, I would have stayed in the springhouse.” She looked up at him—and burst into tears.

He didn’t know what to do. “I didn’t mean to make you cry—”

“You didn’t.” She wept on, waving her hand toward the open door. “They are living in a cave. What are we going to do? Colton can’t be even ten. He can’t take care of Lily all by himself.” She covered her face with both hands. Her weeping intensified.

Her freely expressed emotions pointed out his own hollowed-out aching within. No doubt she’d never before seen ragged, grimy children begging. But he had. Urchins—both white and black—had come into camp begging even for hardtack, the worst food ever.

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the memories. Then he looked at his wife. What did one do with a weeping woman? He recalled the few times he’d seen his mother cry and how his father had handled it.

Uncertain, he put an arm around her and patted her back, mimicking his father’s words. “There, there.”

It worked.

She stepped closer and rested her head against his chest, quieting. The fragrance she always wore, which reminded him of lilacs, floated up from her hair. He nearly bent and kissed the top of her head. But he held himself in check. His father had never kissed his mother when comforting her. And Asa and Judith were married but not close...his fault.

“Asa, what are we going to do? We can’t let two little children continue to live in a cave in the woods.”

She spoke the truth. In the past he could give only what he had in his knapsack to the orphans of the war, but now he had a house and food to share. Yet he didn’t know what to say, so he patted her shoulder some more.

“You were very wise about the pie and chores,” she said, glancing up.

I was? he thought.

“I could see Colton understood that. When I invited them to lunch, he didn’t want to come, but Lily came right along. Someone, some man, has mistreated him. You noticed that, too?”

Asa considered this. “You’re right. He came with me but kept his distance, always out of arm’s reach. And we’re assuming that they are orphans, but they might have run away.”

Judith pressed her face into his shirt again. Then straightened. “I hate to think that, but yes, some parents or guardians can be ill-tempered.”

Asa almost lost himself looking into her eyes, which shone with tears of concern.

“I think the offer of payment by chores reassured him that you—we—weren’t trying to pull something over on him.” She looked at Asa, obviously asking for a reply.

“It worked.” Those were the only words that came to him.

She nodded. And then sighed and wiped her cheeks with her handkerchief. “I’m sorry to break down like that. I just was so shocked to see children living there. And on top of that, I’m worried that I still haven’t heard from home. We sent that letter weeks ago.”

Judith began twisting the hankie in both hands. “Emma wrote Father, too. No reply.”

Asa shifted from foot to foot. He didn’t like talking about family. “What do you think is keeping him from answering?”

She mangled the lacy scrap of linen some more.

“You can tell me, Judith.” His words mocked him. He expected her to trust him, but he didn’t want to trust her. Bile rose in his throat.

She moved to sit at Asa’s work table. “My brother returned from the war with a bride from Kentucky.” She pursed her lips as if hesitant to say more.

Asa said nothing. He couldn’t coax her to talk. It felt dishonest of him.

“My sister-in-law, Mabel Joy, is a contentious woman. That’s all I’ll say.”

“Maybe your father can’t write...” As soon as the words left his mouth, and he saw her stricken look, he knew he’d said exactly the wrong thing. Contrite, he patted her back again. “Might just be that men aren’t good at writing letters.”

Again his own words slapped him. He had yet to write his own parents to tell them he’d married Judith. Guilt froze him in place. What kind of son didn’t even write his parents when he got married? Had his bride noticed that?

Judith touched his sleeve. “You are probably right. Father was never one to write letters. And if Mabel Joy were a kind woman, she’d have written back or coaxed him into doing so.” She sighed.

“Is there a neighbor you could write, or a relative?” Asa suggested.

Judith’s eyes brightened. “Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?” She squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Asa. I’ll write to our neighbor, and I know she’ll write back and give me all the news.” She sent him a trembly smile. “So, what should we do about these children?”

He could do nothing but say the truth. “Let’s both think on it.”

She nodded. “A good idea.” She surprised him by standing on tiptoe and kissing his cheek. “Thank you, Asa.” Then, as if embarrassed, she hurried out with a wave of one hand.

He stood still, savoring the quick peck on his cheek. With tiny hitching breaths, he was able to relax. It was good to have Judith here. Yet troubling. She caused him to feel his inner lack, his inability to react like a normal man. But so far he’d evidently not revealed his deficiency, his emptiness to her. So far, so good.

* * *

In the back of his mind, Asa recalled that he’d heard a husband and wife in the area had died over the winter and there had been children. So after listening to Judith repeat her worries about the children the previous evening, Asa decided he needed more reconnaissance before he took action. He’d go to the fount of all local news and information, Ned Ashford.

So this morning after breakfast and chores, he entered the shadowy store. A few remaining strings of dried apples hung from the rafters and still faintly scented the air. Two women were just finishing up their purchases. He waited, looking over Ashford’s supply of ammunition.

When the ladies left, jingling the bell on the door, Asa approached the storekeeper. “Morning.”

“Morning. What can I do for you?”

“Could use some more buckshot.” Asa knew he must not appear that he came just for information. He didn’t want Ashford too interested. These two waifs, probably orphans, had come to Asa’s door, and Judith would want to have a hand in deciding what should be done for them. So did he, for that matter. He’d been unable to help orphans in the war-ravaged South, but he could help two here.

As the transaction proceeded, Asa asked in a nonchalant voice, “Didn’t I hear that a couple farther out died over winter?”

Ashford looked up, alert. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

Asa had come prepared. “My wife was wondering if anybody needed help with anything. She likes to be a good neighbor.”

“You got yourself a good wife there,” Ashford said. “Everybody thinks so.”

Asa did not like how this comment revealed that he and Judith were the topic of discussion locally, but he ignored this for now. “Do you know what happened to the couple?” Asa prompted Ashford.

“Well, they were nice young people, name of Farrier, homesteading like you and your wife. We think it might have been pneumonia. Their neighbors, the Smiths, came to church—something they didn’t do often.” Ashford paused to frown at this. “Anyway, the Smiths said that their neighbors had died and before the ground froze deep, they’d buried them.

“The Smiths asked Noah to come do a graveside service. He did. A few of us went along, a sad task. Noah looked at the Farriers’ family Bible and some letters from the Farriers’ place to find out if any kin wanted the children. He wrote. But he never heard back. And the Smiths had already taken in the two children, a boy and a girl.”

A boy and a girl. Asa concealed his reaction to the news. This might explain two children without parents. He wished he’d taken more notice at the time. But the Farriers had been near strangers to him. “Smiths took them in?”

“Yes, said that the Farriers and they were distant cousins, but—” Ashford paused “—if I recall correctly, the Farriers didn’t cotton to their neighbors and never said anything about being related.”

“So the Smiths took in the children.” Asa repeated the information, mentally examining it.

“Yes. Noah Whitmore visited again when the weather permitted. But the children had been taken in and were being cared for, so he merely discussed the matter and offered help. The Smiths turned him down. And that was that.”

Asa nodded, paid for the buckshot. “Sad story.”

“It’s a hard life on the frontier. You take care of that sweet wife of yours.”

“Will do.” Nobody and nothing were going to get past him to Judith. And now he knew that Judith would make sure these children were taken care of for her peace of mind. And his own peace of mind, for that matter. The wary look in the boy’s eyes wouldn’t leave him alone, either. And hands down, he couldn’t ignore two children living in the wild alone.

Out in the sunshine, Asa wandered over to the blacksmith. He waited till Levi, in his leather apron, finished the horseshoe he was pounding on the anvil, making sparks fly. The heat from his fire warmed Asa’s face uncomfortably.

“Hello.” Levi swiped a grimy cloth over his sweaty face.

Asa returned the greeting. “Need to know if you ever heard of the Farriers or the Smiths.”




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