Their Frontier Family

“No.” Sunny said, firing up in defense. “No.” She came around to face him. “Why did you marry me if you wanted to be alone?”

Noah rose. They were toe-to-toe. His eyes had opened wide.

“Why don’t you want to be neighborly?” she demanded, shaking.

He took a step backward. “I...I...”

“What if I get sick? Who will you call for help? If I get with child, will you deliver it alone? We have no family here. How can we manage without our neighbors?”

They stared at each other. Sunny shook with outrage at his unreasonable demand.

Noah breathed rapidly, too, as if he’d just finished a race. Finally he shook his head as if coming awake. “I don’t want people here all the time,” he said. “I just want peace and quiet.”

“People have their own work to do.” She clamped her hands together, feeling blood where she’d chafed her thumb. “Once the cabins are built, Charles and Martin will be busy with their own work.”

He let out a rush of air and raked his hands through his hair. “All right. Just remember I don’t want people here all the time.”

She wanted to argue, but sensed much more was going on here than was being said. “I will keep your wish in mind,” she said, scanning his face for clues as to what was happening inside him.

He stood, staring at her for a moment as if seeing her for the first time. “I’m going to clean up at the creek.” He grabbed a towel from the clothesline she’d strung earlier in the day and stomped off.

Sunny slumped against the wagon, calming herself, consciously shedding the fear and anger. He didn’t want people around him. Maybe he didn’t want her around him? Maybe he’d only brought her here to cook and clean. That would explain why he showed no interest in getting closer to her.

The thought made her angry all over again.

Climbing into the wagon, she checked on Dawn who slept peacefully in her little hammock. She’d be safe here. Sunny climbed down, grabbed another towel from the line and headed toward the creek, too. The unusual high temperature and humidity combined with the argument had left her ruffled and heated. Earlier she’d noticed a bend in the creek that was shielded by bushes where she could discreetly cool off.

Noah already splashed in the wide part of the creek, deep with spring runoff. In the long shadows she skirted around, barely glancing toward him. Within the shelter of the bushes, she slipped off her shoes and tiptoed over the pebbles into the cool water. She shivered, but in a good way. Soon ankle-deep, she was bending and splashing water up onto her face and neck, washing away the grime and stickiness.

The cool water soothed her, the sound of its rippling over the rocks calmed her nerves like a balm. She sighed as the last of her indignation drifted away on the current. She waded out onto the mossy bank and dried off.

At the sound of her name she turned and found Noah walking toward her. Night had come; moonlight glimmered around them. She braced herself, waiting for him to reach her. Had he come to start the argument anew?

He paused a foot from her. “I’m sorry, Sunny.” The soft words spoke volumes of anguish.

She gazed at him, uncertain. Their disagreement had been over nothing—or everything—and she sensed that Noah was struggling just like she was. She recalled his words on their wedding night, when he’d asked which was worse, lying with strangers or killing them.

Amid the incessant frogs croaking around them, he whispered, “Sunny, I just need space, peace.”

His voice opened the lock to her heart and freed her. “Noah,” she murmured.

“But I want you to be happy here, too,” he added.

His tenderness touched her, but she didn’t know how to respond. They were still strangers.

In the silent darkness he helped her gather her shawl around her shoulders and then they walked to the wagon. Sunny tried to figure out what had happened this evening, what bedeviled her husband, and how she could bring him peace. She had no answers.

At the wagon she hoped he would follow her inside so she could comfort him. But, as usual, he let her go in and then he wished her good-night from the foot of the cramped wagon bed.

Sunny lay very still, wondering if Noah would have another nightmare tonight, and if he’d ever reveal what the dreams were about. She had a feeling his nightmares and his reluctance to be around people were connected.

And she was determined to find out how. She just needed to be patient. But patience had never been one of her talents. Someday they would have to talk matters out. Maybe when Noah’s nightmares ceased?

Chapter Four

The next morning Sunny had a hard time speaking to Noah. Or looking at him for that matter. She stooped over the flickering flames of the cook fire. A stiff breeze played with the hem of her skirt. To keep safe as she was frying salted pork with one hand, she held her skirt with the other. She didn’t know what was causing the awkwardness she felt with Noah.

In the pan the pork sizzled and snapped like the words she’d spoken to him last night. Was it the fact that she’d spoken up to him for the first time? Or had the awkward feeling come because he’d shown such tenderness to her when he’d escorted her into the wagon? Tenderness from a man was not something she was used to.

Yet today Noah remained silent as usual. And this morning that grated on her more than it did normally. How was she supposed to act when the neighboring men came today to help?

She remembered her resolution to get to the bottom of Noah’s reluctance and she decided to speak up again.

“I expect our neighbors will be coming to help soon,” she murmured.

Noah nodded. “Probably.” He took another sip of the coffee, steaming in the cool morning air.

Sunny glanced down. Lying on her back on a blanket, Dawn waved her arms and legs and cooed. As always, her daughter brought a smile to Sunny’s face.

“She’s having a good time,” Noah commented.

Sudden joy flashed through Sunny, catching her by surprise. This was not the first time he’d taken notice of Dawn and said something positive, but it still caught her off guard. Taking this as a hopeful sign for the future, Sunny managed to nod. She finished the pork and quickly stirred in what was left of last night’s grits. She deftly swirled the pan till the concoction firmed. “Breakfast is ready.”

She lifted the frying pan off the trivet and served up their plates. Searching for more topics to discuss, she said, “I hope we can get some chickens. I will need eggs.”

“We will. It won’t be much longer that we’ll be living like tramps,” Noah said, sounding apologetic. “Before you know it, we’ll be in our cabin.”

“I know we will,” she said quickly. “You’re working so hard. I wish I could help more.”

“You do enough,” he said gruffly. “After the cabin’s up, I’ll make us a nice table and some sturdy benches.”

“You know how to make furniture?” Sunny bit into the crisp pork, trying to ignore the way his dark hair framed his drawn face. She wished she could wipe away the sleepless smudges under his eyes.

“Yes, I had an uncle who was a cabinetmaker. He taught me one summer.”

“You know so much. And I can barely cook.”

“You do fine.”

Her heart fluttered at the praise. She clung to their discussion to keep her feelings concealed. “Mrs. Gabriel taught me what I know. But I wish I’d had time to learn more.”

“You do well,” he said, looking at her, his dark eyes lingering on her face.

Impulsively she touched his arm. “Thanks.”

His invisible shutters closed against her once more. Her action had pushed him deeper into reserve. She concentrated on eating her own breakfast and not showing that she felt his withdrawal, his rejection.

She passed the back of her hand over her forehead, sighing. Be patient, she reminded herself. Maybe he just needs more time.