Colorado Courtship: Winter of Dreams / The Rancher's Sweetheart

“I believe the Bible is the inspired Word of God and everything in it is true,” he replied. “The men who recorded the happenings were the scholars of their time and wrote it all down as God led them. The Scripture was preserved over time. Scrolls were translated, and eventually type was set and the Bible printed into languages we can all understand.”

“It’s just kind of hard to imagine a sea opening up and letting six hundred thousand men walk through.”

“Able-bodied men, the verses say,” Ben Charles agreed. “Plus the children and all the women—probably old men who weren’t able-bodied being carried. And their herds and flocks, and the spoils they’d taken from the Egyptians.”

“Think of how long it must have taken to get across the sea,” Violet said in awe.

“I read about that sea in my studies,” Tessa spoke up. “It’s known as the Sea of Aquaba now, but it was the Red Sea in the Old Testament. Men have discovered a three-mile-wide land bridge from one side of the sea to the other. Archaeologists suggest a strong wind held back a few feet of water temporarily.” She glanced at her brother. “Remember when I showed that to you?”

Ben Charles nodded.

“Then perhaps the whole thing can be explained by natural means,” Violet suggested.

Ben Charles smiled. “Archeologists know about that land bridge now, but God knew about it all along. He planned it at creation for such a time as He’d need it to save Moses and his people. I don’t believe in coincidence. Even if He used natural means to save His people, God prepared the way supernaturally.”

Violet had a lot of information to absorb. “It’s all so fascinating.”

“The story itself or how God planned ahead to save the Israelites?” Ben Charles asked.

“Both,” she said with a smile. “This God of yours seems pretty amazing.”

Ben Charles exchanged a glance with his sister. They both smiled at her.

A middle-aged couple stopped to speak with Ben Charles briefly. He introduced them to Violet. “We will see you tomorrow,” the gentleman said as they departed.

“What’s tomorrow?” Violet asked.

“Guy Chapman’s funeral service and burial.”

“The ground’s not too frozen?” Tessa asked.

“Henry and his helpers were able to open the plot yesterday,” he replied.

Violet’s mood plummeted.

She finished her tea and folded her hands in her lap. She didn’t want to know gruesome details of the burial.

As though he sensed her discomfort, Ben Charles changed the subject, asking her if she cared for dessert. She was full, as was Tessa, so he paid the bill and they headed for the house.

“I hope snow holds off a day longer,” he said as they sat huddled in a row on the seat of the buggy.

The heavy gray sky issued a warning.

“Is Mr. Chapman’s family traveling?” Tessa asked.

“Only a son from Iowa, and he’s already here,” Ben Charles replied. “The rest of his family is close by.”

The ride home went smoothly, since Ben Charles had already cleared the road for the horses on their way to church.

“I’ll be reading,” Tessa said once he assisted them down from the carriage.

He led the horses and buggy to the carriage house.

After hanging her coat and changing out of her good dress, Violet decided to look around the rest of the house. So far she’d only familiarized herself with the kitchen and dining room and the pantries. A formal sitting room at the front of the house was filled with ornate furniture, framed paintings, potted ferns and bric-a-brac. Violet assumed it had been decorated by Ben Charles’s mother many years ago. After checking the dirt in which the ferns grew, she got a pitcher and made several trips, watering the thirsty plants.

Across the hall and farther down the hallway she discovered a massive pocket door. Initially she’d assumed this side of the house backed the funeral parlor, but since it didn’t she rolled back the door and instead discovered another well-appointed room. This one held more comfortable sofas and chairs, paintings of floral arrangements, several colorful lithographs, a pianoforte and a massive stone fireplace.

On either side of the huge windows at the front were large open shelves displaying vases and busts and wood carvings of horses.

Violet liked the muted wallpaper, the geometric-patterned carpets and the glass bowls of shells and small stones. She’d never seen so many different types of shells and she studied several of them.

Seating herself on a comfortable sofa, she enjoyed the immense space and the care and detail that had gone into every object. The other was a formal room, perhaps for receiving guests, but this one felt welcoming and comfortable. Basking in the tranquility, she breathed deeply and closed her eyes. It had been a long time since she’d had a moment’s peace like this.

Nearly half an hour had passed when footsteps alerted her to Ben Charles approaching from the hallway. He entered the room and spotted her. “You must be chilly. I’ll add a log to the fire.”

“Now that you mention it, I guess it’s a little cool in here. I was enjoying the room so much I really didn’t notice.”

He opened a hinged box near the stone fireplace and took out a good-size log, which he added to the fire. After he used the poker to arrange it, and added a few sticks, the flames licked around the log, sending their warmth into the room.

“Better?”

“Much. Thank you. I hope it’s all right that I came in here.”

“This is your home, Violet. That’s why I told you to make yourself comfortable.”

“No one could be anything but comfortable in this room. Did your mother decorate it?”

He glanced at the wall surrounding the fireplace. “No. Actually about five years ago I refurnished this room to be less formal and more peaceful.”

“Well, you achieved that nicely. I admit I haven’t been in another home as nice as yours, but I can’t imagine anywhere more like a place of refuge.”

“That’s kind of you to say. Thank you.” He brushed his palms together. “I didn’t come to disturb you. I wanted to check on the fireplaces and see what was needed this afternoon.”

“You’re not disturbing me. If this is where you spend your Sunday afternoons, please don’t let me displace you.”

“I don’t want you to feel as though you have no privacy.”

“When I need privacy I’ll go to my room. Which is another joy to occupy, I mean to assure you.”

“If you’d like to make changes, feel free to do so. Is there anything you’d like to add or remove?”

“Perhaps a few shelves for my own books, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“It’s no trouble. Just show me what you’d like to see.”

She sat forward. “I saved a photograph from a magazine. It shows shelves above the windows. If you think the idea is acceptable, I could pay for it myself.”

He shook his head. “Show me the clipping and I’ll see to it.”