His Secondhand Wife. Cheryl St.John

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      Katherine woke to the smell and sat, immediately pressing a hand to the small of her back.

      He regretted making her spend a night on the ground and two days on a wagon seat, but he would have her safely to his house later today.

      She was strangely quiet that morning as she got herself ready. When she sat near the fire, he handed her a plate of biscuits and a cup of coffee. “You all right?”

      She nodded. “Thanks.”

      Without another word, she ate and drained her cup. She then took the skillet, plates and cups to the water and returned with them clean.

      “Seat’s hard,” he said finally. “I can spread blankets in the back.”

      She seemed to consider, and he imagined she thought of riding beside Levi’s coffin before she declined.

      Instead he used the blankets to pad the seat before he helped her up.

      As the morning wore on, her silence burned off like the dew, and by the time the sun was high and warm, she was chattering beside him as though she’d never stopped. She commented on the shapes of the clouds, the spring green of the leaves and plants, the snow on the peaks in the distance and the degree of warmth from the sun.

      Noah was plum tuckered from the effort of keeping up with her constant stream of dialogue. But she didn’t seem to care that he rarely replied, and most of her questions were rhetorical, and so it was with supreme relief as they reached Rock Ridge that he decided she wouldn’t be difficult to have living under his roof.

      His only experience with women in his adult life had been with his stepmother and the wives of nearby ranchers, none of whom had ever inspired him to take one of his own. No woman would ever want him, anyway.

      “Are those your cows?” Katherine asked as they passed a herd grazing along a grassy slope.

      He nodded.

      “I can hardly wait to see my new home.” Excitement laced her voice and Noah tried to imagine the Rockin’ C through a stranger’s eyes. To him it had always been home.

      From the top of a grassy ridge, the entire valley where the ranch buildings sprawled came into view. Trees dotted the landscape, a pond glistened in the sunlight and a long, shallow riverbed snaked along low ground.

      Nestled between windbreaks of cottonwood and aspen, the house, meal kitchen and other outbuildings were the only flecks of white on the landscape.

      “Oh,” she breathed in awe, and was silent for several moments.

      He couldn’t help wondering what she was thinking, but as usual he didn’t have to wait long for her thoughts to tumble out. “It’s beautiful. The most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. The best I could have imagined. The house is so big. How many people live in it?”

      “Two now.”

      “What about your hands?”

      “Bunkhouse.”

      “Don’t you have other helpers?”

      “Marjorie Benson, wife of one o’ the hands, comes twice a week to clean and do wash. They have a cabin a mile yonder.”

      “Who cooks for the hands?”

      “Fergie. Bunks with the others.”

      “So you’ve been living in that big place all by yourself?”

      He nodded.

      “What about your stepmother? Levi’s mother, where does she live?”

      “Fancy house in town.”

      “Fancier than this place?”

      Noah led the team closer to the house, and the closer they got, the bigger Katherine’s eyes grew.

      “Inside needs some fixin’ up,” he told her. “I reckon you could do that.”

      Noah stopped the team between the house and the barn. Two men came forward to unhitch the horses. A couple others stood outside the barn, watching with obvious curiosity.

      Noah climbed down, then assisted Katherine. He glanced at the men, straightened and said brusquely, “Levi took a wife. This is Katherine.”

      The men immediately doffed their hats and nodded politely. “Ma’am.”

      Uncomfortable with being a spectacle, she merely nodded a greeting.

      “Grab a couple sawhorses and bring the coffin in,” Noah ordered the men. “To the dining room. Bring somethin’ to use to pry open the lid.”

      One man ducked into the barn. The one closest to the wagon held his hat against his chest. “How do, ma’am? I’m Tipper Benson. That was Lucky.”

      “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Benson.”

      Noah grabbed the sack that contained her few possessions, gestured for her to follow and guided her toward the house. The front porch shaded the entire front and curlicue trim enhanced the beams and the rails. Noah opened the front door and led her into the cool, dim interior.

      Kate observed her new surroundings with interest. The enormous rooms held an assortment of upholstered chairs and oak tables. She noticed a stone fireplace with a plain wood mantel and rugs on the wood floors. Noah pointed to the stairway, so she gripped the railing and preceded him. An empty plant stand stood on the landing next to a window with a view of the side yard. They reached the top and faced a long hallway with doors on either side.

      “That’s mine.” Noah pointed to the first on the left, but kept moving.

      He didn’t slow until he reached the door farthest from his and on the right. He gestured for her to enter the room ahead of him.

      Kate stepped inside. The dark floor was polished to a shine and showed no sign of wear. A small settee and overstuffed chair—also appearing unused—sat on a large round rug beside a warming stove.

      The bed was a big four-poster with a high headboard and a flower-sprigged coverlet that matched the curtains. A tall bureau sat against one wall, a wardrobe on another.

      Noah glanced around and set down her bag. “Marjorie keeps it clean.”

      “It’s the nicest place I’ve ever stayed,” she said with all sincerity and a touch of awe. “I’ve been in houses this nice when I delivered laundry, but I only dreamed of living in one.”

      Noah Cutter was obviously a very rich man. Land and cattle and a home like this. And Levi had been his only family.

      “Rest,” he said. “I’ll bring water.”

      And with that he was gone.

      Kate looked around the room, strolling over to peer at her windblown reflection in the mirror above the washstand. She removed her bonnet and absently tucked in stray hair.

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