The next morning after Quinlan rose, she dressed and went into the kitchen portion of the house. The sun shone brightly through the windows, spreading warmth throughout the room. The men were nowhere to be found. 

Walking through the living area searching for Will, she saw the empty bottle sitting on a table. Fear spiraled through her as she lifted the dreaded glass her hands shaking and held it to her nose. Liquor.

Memories slammed her, her insides quaking with terror. The sound of her father's raised voice, the screams of her mother, her quiet sobbing as she tried to hide. 

The bottle crashed to the floor shattering into a thousand pieces bringing her back to the present. 

The men stayed up last night drinking whiskey. Shaking, she ran into the bedroom. 

She couldn't stay here. She couldn't do this. If Will drank, then he would beat her. Hurrying, she pulled her trunk out of the closet and started throwing her clothes in, not caring how they were packed, just knowing she needed to leave before he returned. 

Where she would go? She had no idea, but how could she stay with a man who would abuse her like her father did her mother?

Will stepped into the room. In the doorway, he stood gazing at her. "What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving," she said. "I can't do this. I can't live with a drunk."

"What are you talking about," he said, walking toward her. 

Quivering so hard, she took a step back, fear consumed her as nausea gripped her stomach. Now the blows would start.

Will grabbed her arm and she flinched, turning her face away from him. Gently, he pulled her over to the bed and sat her beside him. 

"What happened."

Licking her lips, she gazed at him, her voice trembling. "There was an empty bottle of whiskey in the living area. You emptied the liquor bottle last night."

A frown spread across his face. "Al drank most of the bottle, I had one little glass before I came to bed."

How could she believe him? Once a man started drinking, the bottle would soon be gone.  

With trembling limbs, she took a deep breath. "You didn't get drunk?"

Watching his face for signs of lying, she was amazed at how he acted insulted that she would suggest such a thing. 

"No, I'm old enough to remember it's not worth the pain the liquor causes in the morning," he said, gazing at her. He placed his finger beneath her chin and lifted it so she had to look him in the eyes. "Would it have mattered if I had too much to drink."

"Yes," she gasped, trembling uncontrollably. 

Staring at her, he said, "You're shaking."

He sat holding her hands gazing at her like he wanted to understand. The man wasn't hitting her. All he did was hold her hands and talk to her. What was he doing?

"Because you thought I had gotten drunk, you were going to leave," he said slowly glancing around at the clothes she tossed into the trunk. 

"Yes," she said trying to calm the tremors racking her body.

"Did someone you know drink too much? Is that why you're so frightened of alcohol?"

Biting her lip, she didn't want to tell him, but maybe he should understand why she reacted to liquor the way she did.

"My father," she said, the ugliness pouring out of her soul. 

Nodding, he watched her, still holding her hands. "What happened when he drank too much?"

This was a question she didn't want to answer. The answer was brutally painful, and she didn't want to admit to her husband the terrible things her father had done to her mother, tried to do to her. The very reason she was placed at the orphanage. 

Until her marriage, she had put the past behind her and then the memories rumbled up from the place she'd buried them. 

With a sigh, she said, "He beat me, my mother, and anyone else who interfered."

Will pulled her into his arms and held her. For a long moment, he did nothing but hold her against him, though he did kiss the top of her head. A warmth began to spread through her at the feel of his chest against hers. Whenever she thought he would do what her father had done, he did the exact opposite. 

"May God strike me down dead, I will never ever hit you in anger. And I will never harm our children in anger, though they will receive punishment when they disobey. Never will I consume so much alcohol that I can't control my actions. Occasionally, I like to take a sip of whiskey, but that's all."

Quinlan pulled back and stared into his warm blue eyes. Could she believe him? How many times had her father promised them he would never drink again and then he'd come home weaving and smelling of liquor? Trying to determine if this was real or just another man's way of lying to get what he wanted, she stared at him, uncertain. 

But Will didn't seem like her father. He didn't have those ricocheting changes of mood. He seemed steady and sure and she tried her best to believe him. 

"Promise me," she said staring at him. 

"I promise you will never need to worry about me hitting you," he said. "Ever."

Words were easy to say. Now did she trust him to keep his word. The rock solidness of his voice, the steady gaze of his blue eyes that warmed her wherever they touched, made her brave.

"Will you promise me that if I tell you my secret, you will not send me away?" she said softly.

The man stared at her like he couldn't believe she was saying this. "We're married for better or worse. Your secret is not going to cause me to send you away. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," she said. "The reason I was sent to the orphanage is because my father killed my mother. One night, he came home drunk and started to beat her. When I tried to stop him, he knocked me down and would have hit me more, but my mother intervened while I hid." A tear slipped from Quinlan's eyes. "My mother died protecting me."

All the anguish, the pain, the hurt, Quinlan had kept hidden about her mother's sacrifice poured from her eyes as she cried. Will took her in his arms and held her tightly against his chest while she sobbed. 

Finally her tears slowed as he whispered against her neck. "Your mother was a very brave woman who loved you. As a child, I'm sorry you went through that, but I'm so glad you're here with me. You have nothing to fear. I would never harm you or our children that way."

Could his words be true? Could Will be a good man who would never hurt her? Only time would show for certain, but for the first time in years, she had hope. Hope that she would never have to experience that devastating life again. 

They sat on the bed with Will holding her in his arms, comforting her and giving her hope for a bright future. A loud rumbling noise reminded her they had yet to eat. Leaning back, she stroked the side of his face. "Thank you."

"Thank you for telling me. Now, can we please go cook some breakfast. Al has already hit the trail and I'm starving. Then we'll go work on your schoolhouse."

As she stood, she felt awkward. Now he knew her secrets. "I've got to unpack again."

Will frowned. "Quinlan, we're newlyweds, still getting to know one another and learning about each other. Promise me that before you up and take off, we'll sit down and talk through whatever is bothering you. If we don't talk about what troubles us, we don't have a chance."

Standing there, she couldn't help but hear Madam Wigg saying almost the same thing to each of the girls before they left for the train station. Communication is the bond of a good marriage.

"You're right, Will. Next time, I'll tell you what's bothering me rather than pack my bags."

Taking her by the hand, he said, "Come on, I'm starving and we've got lots of work to do today."

A week later, Will pulled their buggy to a halt in front of Meg's Boutique, a quaint little shop where the windows were filled with fashionable dresses. 

His wife glanced at him in surprise. "Why are we stopping here?"

"Well, my beautiful wife is the school teacher and classes will start soon and she needs to look her best. So I thought it would be a great idea for her to purchase some new clothes," Will said, wrapping the reins around the brake. 

The dresses she brought with her were well worn. Not that she didn't look gorgeous in them, but his wife deserved new things, garments that weren't faded or had a patch or a tear. The other night he had watched her painfully mending a dress that had a rip in it and that's when he made the decision.

His wife warranted and needed a new wardrobe. 

"No," she said shaking her head. "The dresses I have will do."

"This is my gift to you," he said.

"No, you've already done too much. You're repairing the school, the wedding, the trip down here. You spent a lot of money on me."

Will frowned. Never had he heard of a woman turning down new clothes. "Because as your husband, I wanted to give you new dresses. We can afford for you to buy new things for school. Even some new under garments."

Hers were almost thread bare and it was painful to glimpse the promises of her body through the thin night clothes. She needed new ones.

Biting her lip, she tilted her head and gazed at him. "Are we rich?"

Will busted out laughing. "No, honey, I hate to disappoint you, but we aren't. But I have a nice cushion that as long as we're frugal, we can live comfortably. Plus, I'm hoping the carpenter business takes off soon and you're going to be bringing in money from teaching, so we're okay."

There were so many things about her that he was slowly starting to put together. A drunk father, a beaten mother and child, and what if the family didn't have money? No wonder Quinlan said the orphanage was the best thing that happened to her. Maybe before then, she didn't have clothes and food. Only a father who liked the inside of a bottle and used his wife as a punching bag. 

Anger roiled through Will, clenching his gut at the thought of her father hitting Quinlan as a child. The images made him want to give her the moon and the stars and everything in between. 

"Come on, honey, let's pick you a couple of new dresses and other items."

At the feel of her tiny waist in his hands, he longed to touch her more, but he set her on the ground. "Will, I've never gone into a dress shop before."

"Meg is nice, and if it makes you feel better, she used to wear pants."

"Why?" she asked startled.

"They couldn't afford dresses for all of them, so she gave her sisters the dresses and she took her father's hand-me-downs."

That seemed to visibly relax her. "There was never extra money. In fact, before the orphanage, there were nights we went hungry."

Will didn't respond. He couldn't. The words on the tip of his tongue were better left unsaid. The father probably had plenty of cash for whiskey. 

Taking her by the arm. "Come on, I can't believe I'm saying this, but let's go shopping."

As he placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, she grinned at him and let him lead her inside the store. 

The bell above the door tinkled when they walked in. The dressmaker, Meg, knelt at the feet of Dora standing on a platform as she hemmed a skirt to the correct length. "Good morning. How are you two?"

"I'm here to purchase some dresses," Quinlan said as she stood in the doorway gazing around in amazement at all of the bolts of fabric, the mannequins, the ribbons. "My husband said I could buy two new ones and some undergarments."

Will glanced at his wife’s awed face. She probably never had this opportunity. Living at the orphanage, he figured the women went through second-hand garments. This would be her very own dress, not one someone discarded.

With a quick glance and a smile, Meg said, "I'm almost done here with Dora. Look around you two and as soon as I'm finished, I'll come help you. There are ready made dresses or you can pick the fabric, the design, and I'll make the dress for you."

Quinlan's eyes lit up. She had the opportunity to create the dress exactly the way she wanted and that made him smile. Since that day last week when she almost left him, they had been growing closer. 

Any day now, he hoped the time would come for them to consummate their marriage. More and more, his wife appeared to be relaxing and every day grew more difficult to be around her without touching her intimately. 

"Do you know when you're leaving," Meg ask Dora. 

"The moment Ruby tells me her star pupil passed. I know where the land is that he owns and I'll head in that direction."

"Please tell me you're not going to kill him."

"Honey, I dream of killing him. Though, why would I want to hang because he stole from me. My plan is to take the land from him and sell it to recoup my money."

Rumors he’d heard in town said that Dora was training to become a bounty hunter. Yes, the McKenzie girls had originally all been bounty hunters, but it was such a dangerous occupation. Why would a woman want the job, except to maybe get rid of her husband, and from the sounds of their discussion, Dora planned to hunt down her wayward man. 

Just then Quinlan stepped up to him holding an emerald green dress that made her honey blonde hair shine and her emerald eyes sparkle. Again, he was one lucky man. "What do you think?"

"I think you should try it on," he said. 

A quick glance at the price tag and she shook her head. "No, it's too expensive."

The woman was as thrifty as they came. Even more than his mother. 

"Quinlan Adams, you are not to look at another price tag. This is my gift to you."

"Why are you so good to me?"

"Because we're married and you're my wife and someday," he leaned in close to her ear, "someday, I hope you fall in love with me and we make this a real marriage."

With delight, her cheeks turned a rosy pink. "Go, try on the calico. I'd like to see what it looks like."

As she disappeared inside a dressing room, Meg came to stand beside him. "Did she find something she likes."

"Maybe," he said. "Just as soon as I see her in this outfit, I need to run to the barber shop for a hair cut. Do you think you could make certain she gets new under clothing? When I return, I'll settle the bill."

A laugh escaped from between Meg's lips causing her large stomach to shake. "Many husbands do exactly what you're doing. First, let's see how Quinlan looks."

The door opened and Quinlan stepped out and the color of the calico brought a beautiful blush to her cheeks. 

The cut of the outfit accentuated her curves making her appear stunning and she was his wife. A smile filled his face at the sight of her. "If you like it, I hope you choose it as I like it a lot."

Meg walked up and checked the stitching. "All it needs is a tuck here and there. It actually looks like it was made for you."

"Never have I owned anything so pretty," she said. "How can I teach in a dress like this?"

One thing he loved about Quinlan was the way she appreciated her nice things and he knew she would take care of them. 

"You'll do just fine," Will said. "Now I'm going to leave you here in the capable hands of Meg and Dora while I go up the street for a hair cut. I'll be back soon."

Quinlan looked terrified as he walked out the door. But he wanted to check with the sheriff on Al and also go to the barber. It would do Quinlan good to talk with Meg and Dora. 

In the dress shop, Quinlan sat drinking a cup of tea while waiting for Will. She had chosen the emerald dress that Will liked and Meg would also make her another dress from a pattern she chose. Plus, she picked out pantaloons, camisoles, and even a new nightgown. Sooner or later, her husband would take his husbandly rights. 

While she felt better about their marriage than the day she first arrived, nerves still gripped her chest when she thought about the two of them entwined together, naked. 

Since the day they spoke about her past, things between them had improved. Occasionally she still flinched at his sudden movements, but Will had done nothing to make her think he would beat her. In fact, just the opposite. The man treated her like a queen and she didn't know how to repay him.

But she also had questions about his past. Especially after seeing him draw his gun on his friend. 

"Dora," she said to the lady who sat quietly thumbing through one of Meg's dress catalogues, "you're in bounty hunting school. How can I tell if a man is a gunslinger? What are the signs?"

The woman turned and gazed at her, dropping the magazine onto her lap. "Why do you ask?"

How much did she confide in this woman? How much did she trust her to keep her confidence? Yet she was the only friend she had in town besides her mother-in-law and she would never ask Clara. 

"Last week my husband drew on a man outside at the school house. Not in a bad way as the man turned out to be his friend. I've never seen anyone draw a gun from their holster quite like Will did. His fingers were like a flash as he leveled the weapon with the trigger pulled back before the man had a chance."

Not looking up, Dora kept turning the pages of the catalogue. "Ruby has me wear a holster and pulling my pistol out and firing. It's not easy." 

"This was the first time I saw Will pull his Colt and the speed frightened me," she admitted. 

"So if he moved as fast as you're saying, he's probably seen some action. Maybe he was in law enforcement or a soldier or possibly a bounty hunter like me. What did your husband do before he came back to Zenith?"

They really hadn't talked about his past. Clara, his mother said he traveled, working, but she never told her what kind of work he did. Did the woman know? What had Will been doing roaming the countryside?

Meg walked to the table. All Quinlan's new clothes were neatly packed in a box. The dressmaker sank down beside them at the table. "Only a couple more weeks before this little one makes its debut. The other two kids are so excited about this child. I'm hoping this one is my last."

"What a blessing," Quinlan said. "Three children."

"What do you know about Will before he came back to Zenith?" Dora asked surprising Quinlan that she asked Meg.

Though who better to ask. The woman had resided in this area most of her life. 

"After his brother's funeral, he disappeared for a while. Years," Meg said. "Of course, I was gone a lot of that time chasing criminals and making money as a bounty hunter. Though, I do remember when David died, he was devastated."

"How did he die?" Quinlan asked, thinking she never heard about his brother's death. In fact, she tried to recall if he ever mentioned having a brother.

"Gunshot," Meg said. "All I recollect hearing was they went fishing and David was killed."

Talking to her friends about her husband seemed like she was prying into his life and she didn't want to know anymore. She wanted him to tell her what happened, not to learn his secrets from someone else.

"Why do you ask?" Meg said.

"Quinlan watched Will draw on another man and was shocked at how quick he drew."

The dressmaker waved her hand. "This is Texas. All men draw fast. Your husband is just like the rest of them. Get used to it."

Even in her naive state, Quinlan wasn't so certain. Never had she seen anyone whip out a gun like that before. And Al's surprise visit. What did that mean? That evening they sat up and talked into the night, but while she was there, nothing was said about how they met. 

The door clanged open and her husband walked in. "You got everything."

A smile spread across her face as she watched him, realizing this was going to be a real test when he learned about the bill. 

"All done," she said.

After he settled with Meg, she stared at him, astounded he paid for her purchases. "Will, are you upset with me?"

Taking her by the arm they walked out of the boutique. "Why would I be?"

"Because of the amount of money I spent."

He laughed. "Come on, honey, we got work to do. Pay me back by handing me shingles as I reroof the schoolhouse."

As they strolled down the street, Quinlan reeled with confusion. Her husband laughed off her concerns. In the orphanage, that was more money than she received in a year.