Her Motherhood Wish. Keli Gwyn

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      “I used this.” He tapped his head. “People were saying the water had gone bad, and that’s what caused the cholera. Once I was on my own, I noticed that the single men who sat around the campfire drinking coffee with Cookie hadn’t gotten sick. I figured maybe something about boiling the water before drinking it made a difference, or maybe it was something in the coffee itself. I asked the old fellow if he’d bring me some in exchange for food from my family’s supplies, which he did.”

      “I’m surprised you liked it. Most children don’t care for the taste.”

      “I couldn’t stand it.” He shuddered at the memory. “Cookie put a pinch of salt in each pot to take out the bitterness, but it didn’t do any good as far as I could tell. I added a good deal of sugar, and that helped me choke it down. I can’t stomach coffee to this day, but according to Dr. Wright up in Placerville, it’s probably what saved my life.”

      “Coffee? Really?”

      “The sugar mostly. He’d read an article from a medical journal about a sugar treatment for cholera when he was in college. Seems I stumbled onto the cure myself. He said the boiled coffee probably helped, too. He boils his instruments because studies have shown fewer infections occur among the patients whose doctors employ that practice. Whatever it was, it worked.”

      “I’m glad. The Lord’s used you to do a lot of good.” Chip had no idea how much she knew about his philanthropic endeavors, so she wouldn’t embarrass him by elaborating.

      He shrugged. “I’m just doing my job.”

      And doing it well. He was not only hardworking and humble, but he was also ambitious. Many carpenters were content to spend their years framing houses, laying floors and putting on roofs. Not Chip. He’d begun as a carpenter but had gone on to become a joiner, too, enabling him to install a building’s doors, windows and stairs. She’d learned over their memorable lunch that he’d arranged to spend several months working with a furniture maker three years ago, adding that skill to his repertoire.

      What he’d neglected to tell her was that he would be heading up north for six months to work with a friend who specialized in sideboards and china cabinets. His farewell on his way out of town had come as a surprise. But he was here now, standing beside her and looking as winsome as ever. “Speaking of your job... I’ve been meaning to ask if the training you received up in Oregon was as beneficial as you’d hoped?”

      Eagerness shone from his dark blue eyes. “Very much so. I’m eager to put everything I learned to work and complete the kitchen and dining room at my place. Once I do, I’ll be able to move forward with The Plan.”

      “The Plan? What plan is that?”

      “This one.” He pulled a worn piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her.

      She hesitated. “Are you sure you want me to see this?”

      “Sure. It’s just a list of goals I came up with when I turned eighteen. I’ve been ticking them off right on schedule ever since. Open it and see for yourself.”

      The pride in his voice piqued her curiosity. She unfolded the sheet and studied it. Chip had listed the year and his corresponding age down one side. Next to each of the twelve entries were two goals, which would take him all the way to age thirty. They began with “become a carpenter in my own right” and “purchase basic tools” and ended with “increase savings” and “have first child.”

      She looked up from the page. “So you’re twenty-five and have already done everything you’d intended to up to this point?”

      “I have. What do you think?” He’d resumed his casual pose, leaning against the fence, but the drumming his fingers against the top rail showed his eagerness to hear her answer.

      “I’m impressed. In addition to learning joinery and furniture making, you’ve bought your quarter horse, Dusty, your workhorses and your wagon, along with a piece of property. You’ve also built your house, most of the furniture in it and a barn. As you said, all that’s left is to complete those last two rooms, and you’ll be ready to take the next steps.”

      “Correct. Now you know why I’ve been working so hard. The best is yet to come. I’ll have the family I’ve dreamed of ever since I was nine.”

      That wouldn’t happen for quite a while since The Plan didn’t call for him to begin courting for three more years—after he’d added some unspecified amount to his savings in order to “ensure that my family is well provided for.”

      She cast a glance at Ruby. Assured that she was fine, Callie continued. “When I asked earlier how you survived, what I was really wanted to know was who took you in and how you fared with them.”

      “And I filled your ears with the tale of my remarkable recovery. Sorry about that.” He gave her an apologetic smile.

      “I’m glad you told me, but I am curious about the other.”

      He averted his gaze and drew circles on the ground with the toe of his boot. “I spent a few years with a carpenter once I reached California—the one who gave me the nickname. He taught me everything he knew, and I moved on. I found a few other woodworkers who were willing to take me in, and I gleaned what I could from them, too.”

      Clearly, there was more to his story, but she could understand why he wouldn’t want to talk about it. “You’ve done remarkably well for someone who’s been on his own for so long.”

      His head came up. He moistened his lips, which drew her attention to them. What would it be like to feel them against hers?

      You have no business thinking about that, Callie. Get a hold of yourself.

      “I can see why family is so important to you and understand why your upcoming goals are related to that, but I’m sure you realize they’re different than the ones that came before.”

      “What do you mean?”

      She chose her words carefully. “All of your goals to this point were, to a certain extent, under your control. A number of those coming up—find a woman to court, marry and have children with—aren’t. You might find a lady you’d like to court, but she might not be interested in you.” Although the possibility of a woman being able to resist Chip’s many appealing characteristics seemed unlikely, it could happen.

      He laughed. “Not that I’m vain or anything, but I don’t think that will be a problem. I work hard, and I’m not bad looking.”

      Certainly not, but there was more to it. “Suppose the lady who captures your eye realizes what a wonderful man you are and marries you according to your plan. There’s no guarantee children will come along according to schedule, is there? It seems to me the Lord would have a hand in that. Wouldn’t you agree?”

      All signs of amusement drained from his face. “You have a point, but He knows how much having a family of my own means to me. I see no need to alter The Plan. May I have it back, please?” He held out his hand, and she placed the paper in it.

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