Supper was an interesting affair, with Miss Norton and Henry stealing glances at one another all the while. At least they weren’t outright gawking at each other anymore. But Willie and Abe noticed, and the two drivers did their best to keep their chuckles in check. Meanwhile, Abe’s one passenger, a tall, gruff-looking, middle-aged fellow, only said two words – “thank you” – the entire meal. Lily hadn’t caught his name, but at least he had good manners.

Anson was the one out of character – slouched in his chair, picking at his food. There was still no return letter from Emeline Turner, and his disappointment was so obvious it even caught Abe’s attention. “What’s the matter with you? You look like you just had to shoot your horse.”

Anson straightened in his chair. “Nothing.” He poked a chunk of potato with his fork and popped it in his mouth.

Abe squinted his right eye at him. “This have anything to do with …”

“Don’t,” Oscar said, his deep voice stern.

Abe leaned back and brought both hands up. “Just asking. Didn’t mean any harm.”

“I know,” Oscar said. “But Anson’s doin’ ‘nough harm all by himself. He don’t need an excuse to do more.”

Lily cringed. Oscar had just informed everyone Anson was feeling sorry for himself, and Anson looked ready to explode. Never mind that it was true – unrequited love was painful, and bringing it up didn’t make it better. She wondered if Oscar felt the same – she was still pondering Henry’s quip upstairs. Did she love him? For that matter, did he love her? One fling at the waterfall – albeit replicated a few times in their own room – wasn’t entirely an answer.

She watched her husband out the corner of her eye as he spooned himself another serving of fried potatoes, then turned to her. “Would you like some more?”

She smiled shyly. “No thank you.” If he knew what she’d been thinking about, would he feel the same?

But to Lily, the words, “I love you,” were not to be taken lightly. She wanted to make sure she was absolutely sure before she uttered them. She certainly hoped he felt the same. He acted like he did, but he hadn’t spoken them either. At least he wasn’t repulsed by her – that counted for a lot – and they had consummated their marriage. But doubts remained.

She looked at Oscar as he continued to eat – he was still busy watching Anson – then surveyed the rest of the table, the people and the large inviting room that housed them. This was her home now, her family, her life. And she liked it. She sighed in contentment as peace permeated the very marrow of her bones. She belonged here, she realized. And, more importantly, she belonged with Oscar.

Lily studied him again, a tiny smile on her lips, and knew. Yes, she was in love with her husband. Which meant the next step was to say so … and hope he did the same.

* * *

Everything was quiet after breakfast the next day – too quiet, Lily thought. Anson was still moping, but that was to be expected. The greater problem was Henry, standing on the front porch and staring forlornly down the lane to the main road. She and Ma were in the living room, watching him through the front window. “Is he going to be all right?” she asked Ma.

Ma shook her head. “Gotta admit, he ain’t never done this ‘fore.”

“Stare like that, you mean?”

“Oh, th’boy stares, no doubt, but he stares at what’s in front o’im. That schoolmarm’s gone, ‘n he’s starin’ where she usta be.”

Henry walked to the end of the porch and sat on the railing, eyes still intent on the path.

“He’s got th’real thing this time, I’m ‘fraid,” Ma said in dismay. “‘N I ain’t sure what t’do ‘bout it.”

“You mean, he’s in love?” Lily said, her voice cracking. “But he just met the woman!”

“Sometimes ‘at’s all it takes.”

“But how … I … no, he couldn’t possibly be.”

Ma glared at her. “Chile, y’gotta lot t’learn ‘bout love. ‘N Henry ain’t like the rest o’ us.” She turned back to the window. “Sometimes I envy him. When he makes up ‘is mind, he sticks t’it.”

“But … doesn’t he realize she’s not coming back?”

She nodded slowly. “Th’knowin’ part o’ him does, but th’hopin’ part o’im’s still hangin’ on t’th’chance she might.”

Lily’s sigh was heartfelt. “Poor Henry.”

“Poor Henry? Poor us – he’s likely t’sit there starin’ at th’road all day. ‘N then who does his chores?” Ma shook her head again. “Hope he ain’t so bad he stops eatin’.”

Lily’s mouth fell open. “Are you serious?”

“Aw yeah. If he made up his mind ‘bout her, he won’t think o’ nothin’ else.”

Lily didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at that. What woman wouldn’t want a man with such single-minded devotion to her? It made her heart melt just thinking about it.

But all the White men had that quality. Anson had letters already penned to Emeline, ready to send, and she’d read some of them. He’d told Emeline about himself, what he did for the stage stop, how his days were spent, how beautiful it was there, that their table was never empty nor their larders spare. He was presenting himself as best he could on paper, without actually courting. But until she responded, he could do nothing. And if her eventual reply was “thank you but no thank you,” he might end up staring off into the distance with Henry.

Did the younger men come by that naturally, or had they learned it from Oscar? He watched over Lily like a hen over her chicks, always present or close by, offering comfort and adoration. He told her how beautiful she was daily, and showed her nightly. For so long she’d thought of herself as a walking blemish, nothing pure or beautiful about her. But Oscar didn’t see her that way.

Oscar told her he saw bravery in her scars, a courage lacking in most of the people he’d seen come through. He saw devotion, resilience, perseverance, a great compassion for others and an appreciation for life. And she was beginning to see it too, beginning to disperse the shadows that had obscured her vision for so long.

And she was dispelling her own selfishness and snobbery too. Years ago she’d have had nothing to do with someone like Henry, or the rest of the Whites for that matter. They were what her father would’ve called backwoods hill-dwelling hicks. What, she wondered, would he say now? “Oh, Daddy …,” she whispered.

“What, chile?” Ma said.

“Nothing.” Lily gazed out the window at Henry one last time, then turned toward the kitchen. She and Ma had chores to do. She just hoped Henry got around to doing his.

* * *

“Oscar?” Lily whispered in his ear.

“Mm?”

“I’m worried about your brothers.”

Oscar opened one eye, then the other. “Don’t be. They’ll manage.” He pulled her closer, enjoying the warmth of her body against his. Her soft cotton nightdress was new, a present he’d ordered when he sent Willie off with his list of supplies for the stage stop a few weeks ago. He’d given it to her after supper as a surprise, and she’d cried and hugged him so hard he’d lost his breath.

“Henry started making a chair for Miss Norton. Don’t you think you should speak with him?”

“Won’t do no good. Once Henry’s got somethin’ in his head, that’s it. To him it’s real. He’s gotta figger out on his own that it ain’t.”

“How long will that take?” she asked.

Oscar shrugged, just enough so she’d feel it. “With Henry, ya never know. Though I suspect this time it might take a while. Ya don’t wanna encourage him, but ya don’t wanna discourage him neither.”

“Very helpful,” she teased.

“Helpful as I can be, honey. How’re you and Sadie gettin’ along?”

“I’m not sure – Ma has been running us both ragged, so we haven’t been able to spend much time together yet. Poor Sadie will never want to visit me again.”

“Tomorrow ya have time – it’s a family day, remember? No stages comin’ through.”

“Thank Heaven for that.” She kissed him on the cheek, then snuggled closer.

Oscar sighed in contentment and relaxed. He should’ve gotten hitched years ago. But then, what guarantee was there that he’d have met Lily? No, the Almighty’s timing was best. He was older and wiser now, and so was she. Now if they could just set a good example for his lovelorn brothers, all would be well in his world.

The next morning the family was up and about earlier than usual. Sadie helped Oscar and Lily prepare breakfast, then, along with Henry and Anson, surprised Ma with breakfast in bed. “Land sakes, ever’one!” she exclaimed when they burst into her bedroom. “Is it Christmas?”

“Nope,” Oscar said. “We just happen to think we got the best momma in the world, and we wanted to let her know.”

Ma wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled at the roomful of people. “Thank ya, thank ya so much. You three… make’t four …” She looked at Lily. “are the best kids a mother could have.” She looked at Sadie. “Ya’ll know what I mean when yer younguns get a li’l older.”

“I already do,” Sadie said. “And not all of mine are so little anymore, remember? I still can’t get over Honoria being sixteen.”

“They grow fast, don’t they?” Ma said as she looked at the food piled on her plate. “This looks wonnerful, whoever made’t.”

Oscar, Lily and Sadie smiled in return.

Henry stepped forward, reached in his pocket and pulled something out. “And I made this for ya, Ma.” He handed her a small carved figure.

Ma took it, looked at it and gasped. “Why, Henry, this’s lovely …” She held it up so everyone could see.

Oscar leaned forward. “Henry!”

“Henry,” Anson said, eyes wide. “It’s perfect.”

Lily and Sadie exchanged a quick look. “What is it?” Lily asked.

Ma held it up a little higher. “It’s th’spittin’ image of my Josephus,” she said, fresh tears in her eyes. “I ain’t never seen nothin’ so beautiful in my life. Thank ya, Henry – yer pa’d be so proud o’ ya. This’s somethin’ all o’ us can enjoy.”

Henry blushed. “Aw shucks, Ma. I can make ones for Oscar and Anson too if they want.”

“I want one,” Anson said in a rush. “Can ya make mine bigger?”

“Sure. I made Ma’s small ‘cause I figgered she’d wanna carry Pa ‘round in her pocket.”

“Thass right consid’rate o’ ya, Henry,” Ma said. “How long ya younguns been cookin’ this up?”

Oscar looked at Lily and Sadie. “We thought of it last night. Dunno how long Henry’s been workin’ on that, though.”

“I was makin’ it for yer birthday, Ma,” Henry said. “But when Oscar said he was gonna surprise ya with breakfast in bed, I thought I’d give it to ya now.”

Ma wiped at her eyes again. “Ya younguns’re th’best thing ever happened t’me. I cain’t stop sayin’ it.”

Sadie smiled. “You’re a very blessed woman, Mrs. White, to have such sons, and now a daughter too. I hope my own children grow up to be as fine as them.”

Lily straightened and Oscar caught the pride on her face. He reached over, took her hand and squeezed. She looked up at him and beamed. Life was good.

A loud, insistent rapping on the front door wasn’t. “There ain’t no stage comin’ today,” Henry said.

“Even if there was, they don’t show up this early,” Oscar commented. “Henry, stay with the women. Anson, come with me.” He left their mother’s room, Anson close on his heels, and went straight to the end of the hall where they kept two loaded shotguns for emergencies. He directed Anson to a window where he’d have a good view of most of the yard around the house, then headed to the front room.

By the time he got to the door, the pounding had stopped. “Who’s there?” he shouted, not willing to open it just yet.

“Eli Turner!”

“Eli? Aw shoot, and here I was worried!” Oscar opened the door to find a disheveled, cut and bleeding Eli Turner leaning against the jamb. “What in tarnation happened to you?”

“Emeline … they got Emeline!” Eli took two steps toward him and collapsed.

“Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat!” Oscar quickly picked Eli up like he was a rag doll and carried him to the sofa near the fireplace just as Anson – who must have heard the whole thing – came running into the room. “Anson, fetch some water, then get Ma. He needs doctorin’.”

“But what ‘bout Emeline?”

“We ain’t gonna find out ‘bout Emeline if we cain’t bring Eli ‘round. Now git!”

Anson spun, tripped, righted himself and ran outside to the pump. He was back in a minute with a cup of water, then raced upstairs, and soon everyone was gathered around Eli’s limp form.

“What th’Sam Hill’s goin’ on?” Ma asked, then saw the cut on Eli’s forehead and turned to Henry. “Get m’doctorin’ bag.”

“Right away, Ma!” Henry was off like a shot into the kitchen.

“He looks like he’s been running through the woods,” Sadie said as she examined him. “But what’s he doing here?”

Henry returned with Ma’s bag and set it on a small table near the sofa. Ma opened it and dug through the contents. Sadie and Lily watched in fascination as she quickly cleaned and bandaged Eli Turner’s head. “Is he alone?” Henry asked.

“Good question,” Ma said. “Oscar, best y’have a look ‘round.”

“Right.” He headed for the door, shotgun in hand.

“I’m coming with you,” Lily called after him.

“Not unless yer a crack shot, ya ain’t. Stay here.”

“But what if something happens?” She pressed her lips together in defiance.

He almost laughed, not because she was angry (though she was) or being ridiculous (though, again, she was), but because she looked so adorable. “Nothin’s gonna happen, but even if it does, I don’t want it happenin’ to you – I’d never forgive myself. Now stay here.” He went outside.

As he descended the porch stairs, Sadie’s question echoed in his mind: what in tarnation was Eli Turner doing way out here? And what had he said about his sister – that someone had Emeline? Were there outlaws in the area? Had she been abducted? Great Scott, what would he do then? If someone had taken the girl, they’d have to go look for her, but Sheriff Hughes would be in charge of that – where was he? Had outlaws struck Clear Creek and abducted her from there? Was Eli part of a posse?

Too many questions, and no answers yet. He hated that.

Oscar checked the perimeter of the house and barn, but nothing was disturbed. Other than the stock wanting to be fed and the cows needing a good milking, things were fine. Nothing seemed to be stirring in the near woods either. He quickly returned to the house to find Eli sitting up, dark hazel eyes blinking, looking utterly disoriented.

“He got quite a bump on his head,” Ma said. “Best we take ‘im upstairs ‘n put ‘im in one o’ th’guest rooms. He’ll rest better there.”

“We will in a minute Ma,” Oscar said. “Can he talk?”

“Course I can,” Eli snapped. He glanced around the room, still weaving a bit. “Whoa, them varmints got me good.”

“What happened?” Oscar asked.

“Some men came through town. They looked familiar – I think they stayed at the hotel in the last month or so, but I cain’t remember. I’m not one to go for tea every day, but Emeline did. Maybe they got a look at her and liked what they saw, I ain’t sure. Mr. Van Cleet said he watched them leave town, but what brought them back … and …” Eli’s eyes rolled up and he crumpled back onto the sofa.

“Now’s as a good time as any t’take him upstairs, Oscar,” Ma advised.

“All right, Ma,” Oscar said. “But when he comes to again, I gotta find out what happened. If there are outlaws ‘round here we need to take precautions – and we need to go after Emeline.”

“Percautions never hurt nothin’, but nobody’s goin’ nowhere ‘til we find out what’s up,” Ma said. “‘Zat clear, Anson?”

Anson glowered. “Yes, ma’am. But anyone harms even a hair on her head, I’m gonna …”

“Keep yerself in check,” Oscar boomed. “Don’t let that hot head of yers get in the way.”

Lily and Sadie exchanged a look. Neither of them had seen or heard of Anson acting hotheaded before. Apparently they didn’t know him as well as they thought.

Oscar carried Eli upstairs to a guest room and laid him on the bed. “Concussion, must be.”

Lily entered the room. “What can we do?” she asked.

“None of us can do anythin’ ‘til he comes to again,” Oscar said. “And when he does, Ma always tries to keep someone with this kind of injury awake.” He looked at her and at Sadie, who’d just joined them. “That’ll be yer job.”

They nodded without question.

Oscar put his hands on his hips and glared at the floor. What a day this was turning out to be. And they hadn’t even eaten breakfast yet.