As it turned out, there were only three passengers on the six o’clock stage. Abe the stagecoach driver was a squat little man with bright blue eyes and a chipper demeanor. He scurried around like a squirrel searching for nuts. Oscar told her that in the morning Abe would take his charges as far as Oregon City, after which any going further would transfer to other stages heading north or south. Abe, in turn, would take on eastbound passengers and be back at the Whites’ by Saturday.

Abe’s passengers were a Mr. and Mrs. Truitt and a lawyer named Maas, a tall, dour man who said very little at supper. Mrs. Truitt more than made up for it. “Newlyweds! Oh, how wonderful! And you were married only last week too.” She turned to her husband. “Isn’t that romantic, George?”

Mr. Truitt, a portly man with salt-and-pepper hair and brown eyes, mumbled “mm-hmm” at his trout and potatoes before taking another bite.

“Was it a big wedding?” Mrs. Truitt asked.

“Not very.” Lily glanced at Oscar, who had a mouthful of food and couldn’t answer. “Just the preacher and his wife and a few… er … guests.”

Oscar suppressed a chuckle. Their last-minute wedding guests had been a topic of conversation for hours during her stage ride home. He’d entertained her with wild stories of the Cookes, Dunnigans, Wallers and more, half of which she chalked up as tall tales. She wondered if he’d tell the same stories to the new arrivals after supper.

“Are ya visitin’ folks in Oregon City?” Ma asked Mrs. Truitt.

“Our daughter just had her third child. She married a banker there. They do quite well.”

“Thass nice,” Ma slurred.

Lily noticed Mr. Maas cringe in response to her new mother-in-law’s speech. All things considered, the woman was fortunate to be able to speak at all. “How about you, Mr. Maas? Do you have relatives in Oregon City?”

“No,” was his gruff response. “I am headed to Salem. I have business to attend there.”

“Really?” Mrs. Truitt enthused. “Are you a political man, to have business in the capital?”

“Something of that nature,” Mr. Maas responded in a way that indicated he wasn’t inclined to talk about it.

The rest of the meal continued in relative quiet, once Mrs. Truitt finally got around to eating instead of talking. Once everyone had finished, Oscar and his mother excused themselves to get the dessert and coffee, leaving Lily to entertain the guests. Anson had yet to appear and Henry, having come in late after getting Abe’s team taken care of, ate his supper in the kitchen, then went to tend the family’s stock.

“My, but your husband certainly is a large fellow, isn’t he?” Mrs. Truitt commented after Oscar disappeared into the kitchen.

“Yes.” Lily forced a smile. “He certainly is.”

“I wonder if your children will be as tall – that is, if you’re going to have any.”

George Truitt cleared his throat loud enough to make everyone jump in their seats. “Martha dear, we’ve talked about your prying into others’ affairs,” he said more softly, but with an undertone of restrained anger. “It’s none of our business if they’re going to have children or not. Keep your nose out of it.”

Oscar was in the room so fast that Lily didn’t even notice how he got there. It was as if he’d appeared out of thin air at her side. “Is there a problem?” he asked in his deep voice.

Martha Truitt had gone pale. “None whatsoever. You’ve nothing to worry about, sir.” She glanced at her husband as if he were a volcano about to erupt.

Oscar eyed them both, then looked at Lily. “Everythin’ all right?”

“Of course. Just a … difference of opinion.”

“You’ll have to forgive Martha – she, erm, is still learning caution,” George replied. At the moment, Martha seemed to be memorizing the grain of the wood on the table.

Lily waved Oscar back toward the kitchen. “It’s nothing. Everything’s fine.” In fact, she really didn’t want him to leave – his protectiveness was making her feel like she hadn’t since John went off to fight with the Confederates.

“If you’re sure.” Oscar didn’t sound convinced.

“I am,” she said gently, smiling for added effect. It worked – Oscar slowly turned and retreated back to the kitchen.

“My heavens,” Martha said, finally finding her voice. “I wouldn’t want to be in an argument with your husband, Mrs. White. Why, the damage a man of that size could do to a body …”

“Martha …,” George warned.

“I … I was just saying …”

Now George’s voice dropped to a hiss. “And we know what happened in Laramie because you were ‘just saying.’ And in Omaha, and in St. Louis, and in Cairo. You can’t go on like this – it is not proper …” His voice was starting to rise, but he caught himself and looked around the table. “My apologies.”

Mr. Maas tried to take a compromise position. “I would think a man of Mr. White’s size and build is used to being noticed.”

“Indeed,” agreed Lily. “Most men of his stature are often challenged by others. Usually men who think they have something to prove.”

Mr. Maas nodded and scooped up his last bite of potatoes. “Pity the man who thinks that. I have heard about your husband along the route – but mainly that he is one of the finest cooks in the West.”

Lily laughed. “I’ve heard that too, but I have yet to try any of his cooking. His mother and I fried the trout. I hope you liked it.”

“It was wonderful,” Martha Truitt said, more carefully now.

“Excellent potatoes and vegetables as well,” her husband put in. He looked up as Ma entered the room, a pie in each hand. “Ah, dessert at last.”

“And coffee,” Oscar declared as he followed his mother, holding a tray. He set it on the table, removed the coffee pot, cups and saucers and began to pour as Ma sliced up the pies. Soon everyone had their cup and a slice and dug in.

“Mrs. White,” George said, “this has to be the best apple pie I’ve ever had.”

“Thank you,” Ma said. “But it’s Oscar’s recipe.”

“It’s delicious,” Martha agreed. “I don’t suppose you’d share it.”

“No, I don’t suppose I would,” Oscar said with a grin. “Otherwise you might not come back.”

“Well, we have to go home, so of course we’ll be back,” she said with a smile. “But I understand – family secret and all.” She glanced at her husband, who smiled as if to say much better.

Lily smiled too, in relief that the Truitts weren’t about to be at loggerheads again. “Well, perhaps we can send you off with a pie when you come through again.” She quickly looked at Oscar, hoping she hadn’t overstepped her bounds. “If that’s all right?”

Oscar shrugged. “That might be agreeable, if we have a pie to spare.”

“Why, that would be lovely!” Martha exclaimed. “Thank you for your generosity.”

Lily was just glad she hadn’t made Oscar angry – it was the last thing she wanted to do right now. Soon dessert would be over and once they did the dishes they’d retire for the evening. And then …

After the gentlemen each had a second helping of pie, Lily helped Oscar clear the table and let Ma entertain the passengers while they saw to the kitchen. Willie and Abe had come in after checking on their teams and were now eating their own suppers on the porch. “Food’s great as always, Oscar,” Willie said. “Ain’t seen Anson ‘round, though – where is the boy?”

“Not sure,” he said, unconcerned. “Probably out huntin’ rabbits. Don’t worry, he’ll turn up.”

Lily was curious about Anson and hope she’d get to actually meet him before she and Oscar went to their room. For all she knew she’d be leaving on one of the stages in the morning. She watched her new husband stack dishes in the dry sink, then took a bucket from underneath it and went outside to the pump. She knew this task – one of the few she’d performed at her aunt’s.

He came back inside, set the bucket on the stove and continued to tidy the kitchen as the water heated. Lily watched in fascination as he put some things away and set others up to make the next day’s breakfast preparations go easier. He checked the water on the stove and, with a nod, poured some into a metal tub he placed in the dry sink. “What would you like me to do?” she asked.

“I’ll wash, you dry?” He handed her a dishrag.

It didn’t take long to blow through the piles, even with Willie and Abe’s plates coming in halfway through. Before Lily knew it, Oscar was steering her toward the door on the other side of the kitchen. This meant they were going to their room …

In a panic, she stopped just short of the bedroom door. “I … I’d like a glass of water.” She cringed at the lame comment – as if a quick drink would buy her any time or make her task any easier.

“‘Course, I’ll fetch one for ya. Go ‘head and get into yer bedclothes.”

Lily’s eyes widened. But then, if she could get into her bedclothes before he returned with her water, she might have a chance to put off dealing with the issue until tomorrow. After all, she’d managed to change while he wasn’t in the room – or in some cases, the barn – their entire time together. What was one more night? And he did look very tired. She should wait to tell him, shouldn’t she? Maybe tomorrow night …

“Ya know, after I get your water, I oughta go look for Anson,” Oscar mused. “He shoulda been back by now, rabbits or no rabbits.”

Lily jumped at the lifeline he unwittingly offered. “Oh, er … yes, yes!”

Oscar cocked his head to one side. “Ya sure there ain’t nothin’ the matter?”

“Oh yes, I’m sure. I’ll just go crawl in bed.” She faked a yawn. “I am mighty tired.”

He nodded. “Me too. But I better make sure my brother’s all right. Ain’t like him to be gone this far past suppertime.”

Lily sobered. “Should I come with you?” she said without thinking, her concern for Oscar’s brother momentarily pushing aside her fears.

“Nah, honey, you stay here. Go to bed and get some sleep.”

Lily’s shoulders slumped in relief as soon as he left. She felt guilty about taking advantage of his absent brother, but one more night couldn’t hurt. Besides, she liked the stage stop and could easily see what life might be like if she were able to stay. Still, she knew she was only postponing the inevitable. At some point, she’d have to tell him – and show him – everything.

* * *

Oscar held the lantern higher and peered into the woods around him. “Anson!” he called, hand cupped at the side of his mouth. He’d been yelling his brother’s name for the last twenty minutes, to no avail. He was also armed, given that you never knew what you might run into in the wilderness surrounding the stage stop.

Finally he heard someone crashing through the woods. Anson emerged, a string of rabbits in one hand. “Land sakes, brother, yer gonna scare all the game away,” he hissed.

“Not with all the noise yer makin’,” Oscar complained. “Where ya been all this time?”

“Checkin’ my snares. Ya know how long that takes.”

Oscar sighed and shook his head. “Yeah, but that don’t keep us from worryin’ when yer out past dark!”

“I’m sorry, Oscar – I didn’t mean to frighten no one.” Anson went to his big brother and gave him a hug. “Glad to have you back.” He stepped away and smiled. “So yer hitched?”

Oscar nodded. “Yes, I am.”

“Well,” Anson said with excitement, “what’s it like?”

Oscar shrugged. “Well … it’s kinda like havin’ a new friend follow ya ‘round all day. Ya talk to them, try to get to know them better. I suppose it’d be different if we’d had time to court beforehand.”

Anson laughed. “Is she purty?”

“What, ya ain’t even seen her?”

“Nah – I was only in the house a few minutes today. Just long ‘nough to set the table, so Ma didn’t get mad.”

Oscar nodded and smiled. “Yeah, she’s real purty.”

Anson punched the air. “Woo-ee! My big brother’s married! I cain’t hardly believe it. She a good cook?”

“Well, that’s what’s ya might call the down side. She says she don’t cook much.”

Anson’s happy countenance fell. “Can ya teach her?”

“‘Course I can teach her. Lily Fair’s smart. I plan to teach her a lot.”

“Lily Fair – that’s sure a purty name,” Anson sighed, then eyed his rabbits. “Maybe she can start with these.”

Oscar smiled. “Good idea, little brother. Tomorrow I’ll teach her how to make rabbit stew.”

Anson laughed. “She gotta learn sometime.” He suddenly sobered and kicked the ground a few times. “Ya see any folks we know in Clear Creek?”

“Just about everyone. Heck, the Cooke brothers and their wives were at my weddin’ along with Mr. and Mrs. Van Cleet, the Dunnigans, the Mulligans …”

“The Turners?” Anson asked hopefully.

“No, didn’t see any of the Turners.”

Anson kicked the ground again. “Not one?”

Oscar grinned. “You mean, did I see Emeline?”

Even in the dim lantern light he could see his brother blush. “Yeah, Emeline. Ya didn’t see her at all?”

“‘Fraid not. Maybe next time we go to town, ya can come along.”

“But what about Ma and Henry? They cain’t manage this place by themselves.”

“They could if they had to. Worse comes to worse, though, I could leave Lily Fair behind to help … but I’d rather not.” At this point, he was thinking aloud. He could leave Lily Fair with them to help with the chores, once she’d settled in and he’d taught her a few things. But he knew she’d need to go back to Clear Creek and visit with the other women sometimes. Besides, he more or less promised she’d come along on the next trip.

But he also knew his younger brother was sweet on Emeline Turner. She’d come through the stage stop a few times when she helped her parents move to Oregon City months before. Their plan was for her and her brother Eli to run the family farm together and send their folks money to live on. Mr. Turner’s health was bad and Doc Waller had suggested city living might be better for him. There was talk that Tom, the eldest Turner and a deputy sheriff up in the town of Nowhere in the Washington Territory, might return to Clear Creek with his wife Rose and their daughter Hannah to work the farm. But nothing had been settled yet, so it was all up in the air

“When ya think yer gonna go back to Clear Creek?” Anson pressed.

“Gonna be a while. But Lily plans to write to Belle and Sadie Cooke. Maybe ya wanna send a letter along with hers?”

“To Belle and Sadie?”

Oscar laughed. “No, ya dumb cluck – to Emeline!”

“Emeline! I cain’t do that!”

“Why not? It’s just a letter, not a marriage proposal. Ya like her, don’t ya?”

Anson went crimson. “Who said anything about …?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Oscar said as he turned toward home. “Ya been moonin’ over her since she came through here with her folks. What’s wrong with writin’ her a note?”

Anson was speechless. “But … but what if she don’t feel the same?”

“Then you’ll find out sooner, and ya won’t waste time on someone who ain’t set her cap for ya. And if she does feel the same, you’ll know that.”

Anson took off his hat, crushed it under his arm and ran his hand through his hair. “I dunno …”

Oscar stopped, frustrated. “If I can send away for a mail-order bride and marry a woman I ain’t never seen before, ya can write Emeline Turner a note to say howdy.”

Anson’s eyes were wide. “But… what should I say?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that right now. Just decide yer gonna do it.”

Anson’s brow furrowed. “Decidin’s hard sometimes.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to it. Look at me, I decided to up and get married.”

Anson nodded, looking sick. “But you’re older and braver than I am.”

“Older, maybe. I ain’t so sure about braver – ya don’t see me checkin’ rabbit snares after dark.”

Anson chuckled. “So do ya like bein’ married?”

That caught Oscar off guard. “Well …”

“Really? Ya gotta think ‘bout it?”

“Well, heck, it’s only been a few days. We barely know each other.”

Anson nodded and sighed. “Man, I wanna get married.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “I know. Now let’s get on home – Ma’s probably worried by now, and we got three guests in on the six o’clock. Tomorrow I’ll introduce ya to Lily Fair. Maybe she can help ya write yer note to Emeline.”

Anson’s face lit up at the suggestion. “I never thought of that. She’s from where?”

“Charleston, South Carolina. A real big-city Southern lady.”

Anson’s eyes grew wider still. “Gosh, Oscar. Yer one lucky man.”

Oscar smiled and glanced up at the star-filled sky. “I guess I am, ain’t I?” But he still had so many questions about Lily Fair. And she didn’t seem eager to give him answers.