His Secondhand Wife

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.

A few minutes later he entered with a bucket and poured water into a pitcher on the washstand. Without another word, he turned and left, closing the door behind him.

After setting her bonnet down, Kate removed her coat and wandered to the window. In the yard below, she saw Noah stride toward the barn.

What a strange man.

What a strange predicament.

Removing the clothing she’d slept in, she used the water and a bar of lovely smelling soap she found on the stand. The ceramic bowl was so large, she stood in it and used the pitcher to rinse. The process wasn’t as good as a bath, but getting clean felt heavenly.

From the stand, she gathered toweling that smelled of the sun and dried herself, then rummaged in her bag and donned clean underclothes.

After hanging the towels to dry, she tested the mattress, found it soft and comfortable and stretched out to rest her weary body.

Noah grabbed two full plates from the warming oven in the meal house and carried them to his kitchen. It was his habit to take his meal home and eat alone, and no one questioned the act now.

He didn’t know what to do about Katherine, though. The house was dim and quiet, so he set their meals on the table and climbed the stairs.

At the end of the hall, he tapped.

Tapped again.

“Yes?”

“Supper.”

“Oh, all right. I’ll be down in a moment.”

He struck a match and lit an oil lamp on the wall so she could find her way on the stairs.

True to her word, she showed up in the kitchen almost immediately. The wrinkled dress she wore had two rows of frills at the hem and another around the bodice, like something he imagined a young woman would wear to a summer picnic.

The only light came through the isinglass window on the stove. He pointed to a chair, and she sat.

Noah pushed a plate in front of her.

Katherine picked up her fork. “Thank you.”

He sat at the opposite end of the table.

“Shall I light the lamp?” she asked.

“No.”

“All right.” She took a bite of the stew. “I guess I slept longer than I expected to.”

“You were tired.”

She nodded. “Perhaps tomorrow I’ll have a chance to look around and meet some of the hands.”

“Most’ll be bringing cows down out of the hills.”

“What for?”

“Branding.”

“I see. I can do laundry, you know. It’s what I do well—best actually. I won’t mind taking over that chore.”

“Marjorie earns extra doin’ laundry. Wouldn’t take her job away.”

“Oh. Of course not. Well, I could make our meals. I’m not a very good cook, truly, but I can learn.”

“That’s Fergie’s job.”

“Oh.” She glanced around the room, perhaps hoping to see something interesting in the shadowy corners.

“Coffee?” he offered.

“Yes. Thank you.”

He got up, poured two tin mugs from the pot on the stove and sat one in front of her.