Page 31 of More than Words Can Say

Turning back to his letter, Zach inked his nib and scribbled a few more lines.

It’s a good thing I cart lumber around all day, or I’d be several pounds heavier by now. It’s hard to go hungry living in a bakery.

In truth, he ate like a king. Abigail packed him a lunch every morning, usually a sandwich and a piece of fruit. Ham or roast or sometimes a couple of hard fried eggs with bacon between thick slices of the best bread he’d ever eaten. Hearty yet not dense, just the right texture to fill a man’s belly and keep him going through the afternoon. And there was always something for dessert. A couple cookies, a slice of cake, even a fruit tart had been known to make an appearance in his lunch bucket, causing more than one scuffle with Reuben when his partner tried to nip a treat without permission. When Zach complained about his friend’s thievery, Abby started packing extra sweets in his tin. She did love to feed people.

The courting is

Zach paused, unsure of what to write. Frustrating was the word that immediately jumped to mind, but that wasn’t fair to Abby. She was holding up her end of the bargain and sharing kisses with him every night—kisses he looked forward to from the moment his eyes opened in the morning. She fed him. Did his laundry. Well, Rosalind did most of the laundry and household chores while his wife worked in the bakery, but Abby was the one who mended the tears in his trousers and the holes in his socks. The one who read from the Bible every evening after supper. The one who asked him how his day went at the lumberyard and smiled as if “fine” was a brilliant response.

One of his biggest fears before saying his vows was that once she had a claim on him, Abigail would start making demands on him as well. Demands for conversation. Before Evie had left town, she’d given him a stern lecture about how womenfolk liked to know what their menfolk were thinking, and worse yet, feeling. Zach had dreaded those first few evenings with his wife and sister-in-law. But all his worry had been for naught. Abigail never pressed him for conversation. She’d ask questions, enough to let him know she was actually interested in the answers, but she never grew testy about his brevity. Never huffed or glared or rolled her eyes like his sister did when she found his responses lacking. She simply accepted what he was willing to give. And, ironically, her acceptance of his silence made him want to share more.

Zach scratched a few more words onto the stationery.

The courting is going well. Abby and I are getting to know each other, and I can honestly say that I have no regrets. She’s a good woman.

Zach scanned what he’d written so far. Nearly ten lines. Might be a record. He grinned, proud of his efforts, then inked the pen a final time.

All my best to Seth, Christie, and little Archie.

Oh, and tell that husband of yours that my offer to shoot him still stands if he gets out of line.

He had to get at least one dig in. Evie was smart enough to see through her big brother’s bluster to read the fondness between the lines. Logan might have been a no-good scoundrel with nothing but revenge on his mind when he’d first crossed their paths last year, but Zach couldn’t deny that Logan had been good to his sister. Good to all the Hamiltons, actually. Shoot, if it wasn’t for the guilt that stabbed Zach’s gut every time he looked at him, he might actually like his brother-in-law.

Shaking his head, Zach signed his name to the bottom of the letter and set it aside to allow the ink to dry. The onerous task of letter writing complete, he turned his mind to other pursuits. Namely, how to carve out some private time with his wife. He liked Rosie and all, but if a man wasn’t sharing a bed with his wife, he needed to find other avenues for conducting his wooing. Reuben had suggested the opera house, but Zach didn’t see how sitting in a theatre with a room full of strangers would aid his cause. He needed time alone with Abigail.

Maybe they could go for a ride out to some pretty spot in the country. Reuben hadn’t grown up around here, he and Audrey having moved to the area about five years ago to be closer to Audrey’s sister, but surely he’d know a few good courting spots. Maybe even someplace with flowers. Abby liked flowers.

Zach thought of renting her a horse, but he had no idea if she knew how to ride. A buggy would work, but he’d rather just take her up with him on Jack. Ride double. It might raise a few eyebrows, but who cared? They were married. Zach’s pulse quickened at the idea of holding his wife close. Tucking her against his chest. Her hands gripping him for support.

Like a predator catching scent of his prey, Zach lifted his head and readied muscles that had gone stiff from sitting. His blood thrummed. His mind spun with plots and plans. No slapdash effort would do. If he was going to elevate his courtship, he’d best make sure the results were impressive.

First thing tomorrow, he’d get Reuben’s recommendations on scenic locales in the area, then he’d corner Rosalind and see if he could convince his sister-in-law to aid his cause.

Only . . . someone else cornered her first.

Monday afternoon, an hour before his usual quitting time, Zach left the lumberyard armed with directions to the three best courting spots in Honey Grove. He marched up Seventh Street, heading to the wagonyard where he stabled Jack, but a familiar head of blond hair in the alleyway snagged his attention.

Rosalind, a market basket filled with parcels wrapped in butcher paper slung over her arm, shook her head adamantly at a disreputable-looking fellow that Zach didn’t recognize.

Protective instincts flaring, Zach turned into the alley.

“You’re mistaken,” Rosalind said, lurching back toward Sixth Street.

“I don’t think so, love.” The man stepped into her path and blocked her escape. He pulled something about the size of a playing card from his pocket, studied it, then looked back at Rosie’s face. “You’re her, all right. Wait ’til I tell the boys. They’ll all want to come take a gander.”

“Let me pass.”

Zach couldn’t see Rosalind’s face, but the shakiness of her voice had him striding forward. She attempted to skirt around the stranger, but the vermin grabbed hold of her arm.

Zach broke into a run, jaw set and fingers clenched.

This man had just made a date with his fist.

CHAPTER

17

“Let her go.” His growled demand echoed through the alleyway as Zach advanced.