LITMIR.BIZ

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opened a cupboard and carefully stored the precious dishes away, then tackled the pots and pans and utensils, crusted with burned food. These required a great deal more effort, and she immersed them in boiling water and scrubbed until her knuckles were bloody. But at least, for the moment, she had managed to put aside her troubles.

      

      In the barn Matt crouched beside the lantern, sifting through the packet of mail. Only one held any interest for him. The familiar handwriting had the blood throbbing at his temples as he tore open the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of paper. He read it quickly, absorbing first shock, then pain, and then slow, simmering fury. Then, like a man possessed, he read it again, and yet again, until every single word was committed to memory. By the time he’d read it more than a dozen times, he felt the anger beginning to drain away. In its place was a sort of numb acceptance.

      He wondered if old Webster Sutton had felt this way when he’d lost his hand.

      Like Webster, a vital part of him had been torn away, and he’d mourned and suffered and tried to function without it. But he had tempted himself, again and again, with the idea that somehow that vital part would grow back. Now, finally, he had to face the fact that it was lost to him forever. He would never get that part of his life back.

      He should be relieved. He should welcome the numbness, after the pain he’d suffered. But for a few minutes more, he actually found himself wishing he could embrace the pain. Maybe it would be better than what he was feeling now.

      He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the rough, cold wood of the stall. What was he feeling? He couldn’t put a name to it. But maybe the closest thing would be…relief.

      Impossible. He couldn’t be relieved by such cruel news. Still…that was exactly what he was experiencing. It was finally, irrevocably over. No more sleepless nights, wondering, waiting. Now, like it or not, he knew. And though the things he knew were painful, at least, hopefully, he could begin to heal. He could find a way to get on with his life.

      At last he returned the letter to the envelope and shoved it into his pocket.

      His glance fell on another envelope and he opened it more slowly. The handwriting was neat, precise, almost childlike. The words were simple but meaningful. He read this letter with a sort of detached fascination.

      Dear Matthew,

      Your words touched me deeply. I can already see your sweet, motherless children and your lovely, sprawling ranch snuggled in the bosom of the Sierra Nevada. I realize we will be strangers to each other, and that we will have much to learn. But I cannot resist the lure of your family. As soon as I can put my affairs in order, I will begin the journey to our new life together.

      Sincerely,

      Isabella McCree

      The barn door was abruptly yanked open.

      “All right, Pa. The herd’s fine.”

      A gust of cold air fluttered the paper in Matt’s hand.

      Aaron closed the door and turned to face his father. “You can whale away on me if you’d like. I guess I deserve it.”

      Matt took his time folding the letter and lifting the lantern to a post above the stall. Then he studied his son, whose eyes were downcast. At nearly fifteen, Aaron was more man than boy. The years of hard ranch chores had layered muscle on his six-foot frame. If Aaron wanted, Matt knew, he could give his father a hell of a fight. But that thought wouldn’t even occur to Aaron. As firstborn, the boy was diligent, disciplined and devoted, not only to his father but to his younger brothers and sister, as well. In fact, he had always been like their second father. And mother.

      “I’m not going to hit you, Aaron.” The thought was absurd. It had been years since he’d even had to reprimand this boy. “But tell me, son. What in the world made you write that letter?”

      Aaron shrugged. “It was Christmastime. The younger ones were missing Ma. I got to thinking if they could get a new ma, maybe things wouldn’t seem so…bad around here.”

      Matt absorbed the pain. Would it ever end? Would he ever be able to hear them speak of her without feeling this terrible emptiness?

      “Why Pennsylvania?”

      “I read about it in that paper you brought from Sutton’s Station. It said the minister of the First Pennsylvania Congregation led a prayer for the soldiers heading to California. So I just wrote the letter, and the next time we went to town I left it with Boone.”

      “You couldn’t bring yourself to tell me?”

      Aaron looked away. “No, sir.”

      “I know I’ve been pretty tough to live with. I guess…” Matt hesitated, then plunged into uncharted territory. “I guess we haven’t talked much about men and women.”

      Aaron flushed clear to the tips of his ears. “I’ve seen the farm animals. I know enough.”

      “Then you ought to know that men and women like to know each other, and feel some…sweetening toward each other, before they get married.”

      “Sweetening?”

      “Something that’ll attract them, like bees to honey.”

      “I know that.” The boy’s Adam’s apple rose and fell as he swallowed hard. “But how’re you ever going to meet a lady out here and feel any…sweetening?”

      It was his father’s turn to flush. “So you thought the solution would be to send for a stranger?”

      “Pa, do you remember the time the mother duck got killed by a coyote? We gave the ducklings to one of our hens, and she raised them like her own.”

      Matt’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying any mother’s better than none?”

      “I guess that’s what I’m saying.”

      “Then I’ll remind you what a poor substitute that hen was. She stood squawking on the banks of the river every time those ducklings started swimming. And when they joined a flock of geese and flew off in the fall, she took to her nest in mourning.”

      The boy nodded. “But you have to admit, she took good care of those babies until they could take care of themselves, Pa.”

      Matt nodded reluctantly. “Yes, she did.”

      “They’d have died without her mothering.”

      The two fell silent for long minutes. Finally Matt cleared his throat. “We’re not talking about ducks and chicks now, Aaron.”

      “No, sir. But Miss McCree seems nice enough.”

      “I guess she is. But she’s a city woman. What does she know about surviving a winter in the wilderness?”

      Aaron shrugged again. “Not much, I’d wager. But we’d be here to help her.”

      When his father said nothing more, he looked up, studying him carefully. For the first time he felt a flicker of hope. “You thinking of asking her to stay?”

      “I might be.” Matt’s eyes were hidden in shadow. But the lingering pain was still in his voice. “After all, I was outvoted. And there’s the money. It’s going to cost more than I have to send her home. It doesn’t seem fair to ask her to work in town until she’s saved enough.” At least those were the arguments he was willing to admit to. But the truth was, that damnable letter had changed everything. It wasn’t that he wanted a wife, he told himself. But Aaron was right. They needed a woman around the place. And Del needed a mother. And now, right this minute, his back was to the wall.

      He indicated the blanket he’d tossed on the straw. “You go ahead and get some sleep. I’ll be back in a while.”

      “Yes, Pa. And, Pa?”

      Matt opened the door, then turned.

      Across the barn, his son looked suddenly young and scared, with the

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