Page 48 of Short-Straw Bride

A question burned on the front of Travis’s tongue, but he couldn’t quite seem to spit it out. It was only when Jim started to move past him that the words tumbled forth.

“Do you think I did the right thing in hiring Moses and Josiah?” Travis peered into his brother’s face, hoping for a sign of approval yet worried that Jim might confirm the uneasy niggling in the back of his mind that accused him of giving Meredith too much influence over his decision.

As always, Jim took his time answering. “The man knows building,” he finally said. “And his idea about using stonework for the first three or four feet of the walls is sound. We’ll be able to get more use out of the lumber we’ve salvaged from the original barn, plus the stone at ground level will be less likely to catch fire should a torch ever be tossed down beside it.”

“You think he’s trustworthy?”

“Dunno. But he and the boy are hard workers. They sanded the scorch marks from about half the boards in the scrap heap after lunch and tested them for weak spots while you and Crockett checked the grass up by Horseshoe Rock. Said he’d bring along his own tools tomorrow, too, so he wouldn’t have to borrow mine. Seems a decent enough fella.”

“Good.” One of the knots in Travis’s belly loosened.

“I think Neill got a kick outta having someone his own age around. Once those two started yakkin’, they hardly ever stopped.”

Which could mean anything from swapping names and a pleasantry or two to jabbering like a pair of magpies. It was impossible to tell with Jim making the observation. To him, a sentence with more than two words qualified as verbose. He’d probably said more in the last two minutes than he had all day.

“Well, I’ll look forward to seeing them in action tomorrow.”

Jim nodded and headed off to the shed. Sadie padded after him, leaving Travis alone with the other knot in his gut—the tangle of anticipation and nerves.

Surely Meredith was done tidying the kitchen by now, and hopefully Crockett would be off in the den working on Sunday’s lesson or taking Neill on in a game of checkers. The last thing Travis wanted when he asked Meredith to walk with him was an audience.

As it turned out, no audience waited for him in the kitchen, but then, neither did Meredith. Travis moseyed down the hall in search of his wife, trying to look as nonchalant as possible despite the porcupine rolling around in his stomach. He ducked past the den before Crockett could see him, figuring he’d look there last. No sense opening himself to a round of teasing if it wasn’t necessary.

Her bedroom door stood open, but when he peeked inside, he found no trace of her. When he turned, however, he was treated to the sight of his wife’s backside wiggling toward him as she struggled to pull Neill’s door closed while clasping a wad of clothing in one hand and her sewing box in the other.

Travis reached around her to assist, enjoying the contact as his arm brushed against hers. She jumped into a straighter position, and the movement pressed her back snuggly against his chest. He liked that even more.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” Which was true, but he sure didn’t mind taking advantage of the results. He breathed in the scent of her as he rubbed the side of his jaw against her hair.

Meredith lingered a moment, then stepped away. Travis bit back his disappointment.

“I was gathering the mending,” she said, her shy gaze not quite reaching his. “I didn’t realize you were behind me.”

“No harm done.” Travis smiled at her, hoping the grin would pass for charming. Sadie was the only female he’d ever tried to coax into sharing his company before, and something told him gals of the two-legged variety might be a little trickier to convince. “Would you . . . um . . . like to take a walk with me? There’s a pretty spot down along the creek that I’ve been meaning to show you.”

“It sounds lovely.” Her lips curved encouragingly, then fell. “Oh, but I told Neill I’d repair the cuffs on his favorite work shirt. One snag and the raggedy things are bound to tear clean off.”

Hoping the regret he heard lacing her voice was genuine and not just wishful thinking on his part, Travis gently collected the sewing box and pile of shirts from her and tucked them under his arm. “It’ll keep,” he said.

He led the way to the kitchen, set the mending items on the table, and then took her cloak from the hook on the wall and held it out for her to step into. “Shall we?”

She hesitated, looking at the mending before reaching out to him again. But when she bit her lip and nodded, a spark of eagerness danced in her eyes that set his pulse to thrumming. Meredith reached behind her back to untie her apron, then slid her arms into the sleeves of her cloak and allowed him to fit it over her shoulders. His hands smoothed down the edge of her arms as she did up the top few buttons, and he fought the urge to draw her into a more intimate embrace.

Finally, she turned to face him, her smile sending that porcupine tumbling around inside him again. Bowing slightly, he offered his arm, and once her fingers settled near his elbow, he led her to the door.

22

As they left the yard to stroll along the path his parents used to take when they wanted to escape prying eyes, Travis felt more like a married man than he had since the day he took his vows. Moonlight lit their way, its soft glow adding a touch of enchantment to the pines and walnut trees that surrounded them. He took care to modulate his stride to accommodate her shorter one. The hitch in her gait didn’t slow her down, but he found himself taking extra care to guide her around pebbles and uneven ground that he usually didn’t give a second thought.

Travis tried to think of something romantic to say, something charming or witty to entertain his lady, but his tongue remained glued to the back of his teeth. The scenery would have to be poetry enough.

“Do you hear the music, Travis?” Meredith glanced his way, her eyes luminous. “The rippling water, the humming crickets, the leaves rustling in the breeze. It’s like a lullaby I vaguely remember from childhood coming back to soothe me after a long day.”

Travis grinned. It seemed his wife had enough poetry in her soul for both of them.

“My father and I used to sit on the porch when I was young and listen to the night sing to us. He said it was the best cure for a weary spirit. And he was right. I would curl up in his lap and listen to the sounds of the night while the steady beat of his heart matched the rhythm of the rocking chair. No matter what had happened that day, my worries fell away while we rocked.”

Her voice had turned so wistful, Travis could easily picture her as the young girl she’d been when first they met, snuggled up in her father’s arms, her head lolling against the man’s chest as sleep claimed her.