His Secondhand Wife

They crossed a river at a shallow spot where farther down, it fed into a wide lake. “Oh, it’s so pretty. It’s turquoise.”

He squinted toward the lake she indicated without comment and guided the team up the bank.

Noah followed a rutted trail that cut around rock formations every so often.

“The rocks are so big! You can almost imagine that the shapes are animals or faces, can’t you?” Kate studied the enormous jutting stones. “Have you ever seen anything equal to them?”

He glanced at her, then away.

She straightened her skirt primly. “You’re thinking I’ve lived in Boulder all these years and never seen much of anything. It’s a shame, isn’t it? I always wanted to travel, to see all the sights and the country beyond the city. Levi was going to take me after—well, he was going to take me. Have you traveled many places?”

“Not many.”

She’d never traveled farther than the streets of the city where she was born until yesterday. “Have you been in other states?”

He nodded.

“Where? Have you seen the ocean?”

“I’ve been to Texas and back. Seen Nebraska and Kansas.”

“I’d love to see the ocean. I’ve read about it and I’ve seen paintings. I saw an exhibit once. An artist from Maine had a show and gave all the girls at the laundry a ticket to go see her work. Lovely pastel colors they were, blues and greens and lavenders. Pinks, too. It would be ever so lovely to be able to paint like that, don’t you think?”

He shrugged as though he’d never thought about it.

The sun dipped low and the air took a chill. Kate pulled on her coat and fell silent.

Eventually, Noah led the wagon toward a stand of cottonwoods that lined a streambed and brought it to a halt.

Kate studied her surroundings. “Is this where we’re spending the night?”

With a grunt, he climbed down.

She stood, her muscles stiff from the long ride on the hard seat, and he came around to help her. She studied the top of his hat, the expanse of shoulders in that coat, and accepted the gloved hand he raised. “Oh, oh my. Oh, dear.” Her feet touched the ground and her hips and back complained. “Where shall I—um?”

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the shrubs and trees along the stream.

“Oh. Thank you. I’ll be right back.”

Noah glimpsed her limping toward the stream and unharnessed the team. He’d never known a person could talk so much. Katherine had barely paused for breath since they’d left Boulder. Not that he minded. As long as she didn’t expect him to keep up one side of the conversation, she could talk herself hoarse if she chose. And she might, if today had been any indication.

He untied his gray and led all three animals to the stream to drink. Once they’d had their fill, he tethered them where they could crop grass. From his saddlebags, he took a dented coffeepot and fixins for a meal.

The young woman returned and removed her bonnet. “What can I do?”

He gestured to the pot. “Need water.”

She picked up the container. “I’ll be right back.”

He watched her leave. Of course she’d be right back—where else would she go? He found a dry limb, broke it up and, with sticks for kindling, got a fire started.

Kate returned with the pot. “Do you have a tent?”

“No.”

“Are we going to sleep out in the open, then? That will be an adventure. Once when I was small, Mama and I didn’t have a place to stay for a few weeks and we slept under a broken wagon behind the stables. It didn’t rain, but it did get cold at night. I remember looking up and seeing all the stars. I’m sure we’ll be able to see even more of the sky out here so far from buildings.”

Noah sliced salt pork into the skillet and let it sizzle before prying open a can of beans with his knife.

“Do you do everything with your gloves on? I’ve never seen anyone do that, but I’ve never known any cowboys or ranchers up close. Guess it keeps you from cutting yourself on the can, huh?”

By the time the food was done, night had fallen. Noah removed his gloves and divided the food onto two tin plates. He handed one, along with a spoon, to Katherine.

“Thank you.” She took a seat on the ground beside the fire.

Out of habit, Noah situated himself so that his hat shaded his face from the glow of the flames.

Kate kept silent long enough to eat. Finished, she picked up the empty skillet. “I’ll wash these in the stream.”

Noah handed her his empty plate and she got up and moved away.

He laid out a bedroll on either side of the fire, checked the chambers in his .45 and sat on his blankets.

“What shall I do with these?” Katherine had returned.

“Stand ’em against that log. Fire’ll dry ’em.”

Noah watched her arrange the skillet and plates with great care before settling on the other bedroll and removing her shoes. She unfolded her blanket and lay down, pulling up the wool covering.

Noah settled his hips into a dip on the hard ground and closed his eyes. Tomorrow he would have to see Estelle and deal with her.

“Did you ever see anything equal to all those stars in the sky?” Katherine asked. “It makes me feel so small lying here. Just think, somewhere in a foreign land, maybe in Spain or Egypt, people like us are looking up and seeing the same heavens at the same time. And they’re wondering about us.”

“Could be it’s daytime there,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“Well, somewhere far away it’s night,” she said, unflustered by his lack of imagination. “Do you know what the constellations are called?”

“Some of ’em.”

“What’s that one?”

“North Star, part of Big Bear, and over there’s Little Bear.”

“Imagine,” she said on a sigh. “Explorers have been finding their way across oceans guided by the same stars for all of time. All the people who ever lived, people in the Bible even, have seen the same stars.”

“Some have probably burned out.”

“Maybe.”