Angry and injured, Amelia stood looking at him. Her eyes were red, her face streaked with tears.
“All right,” she said. “Let’s talk.”
“Are you going to make me stand out here? We’ve got company in the house, you know.”
The door opened just wide enough for Joe to step inside. He closed it behind him. By then she’d moved across the room. Her dress was rumpled, as if she’d flung herself, weeping, onto the bed.
“Aren’t you going to say you’re sorry?” she demanded.
“I’m sorry for hurting you and making you angry. But not for what I did. We’re going to be fine, Amelia. I’ve got plans to make that land pay.”
“And what about me? Is that why you married me, Joe—and why my father let you—so you could claim land as a married man and get twice as much? I thought you loved me. But I’m no more to you, or to my father, than one of those cows out there. You used me—both of you.”
“Amelia, it’s not like that,” Joe began. But in a way she was right. Loren had encouraged the marriage because it would tie Joe to the ranch and allow him to get double the land by filing for himself and his wife. And now, though he hadn’t planned it, Joe had used the marriage for a similar purpose.
“Wait till I show you the land,” he said, changing the subject. “It’ll be a beautiful place to raise our family once I get the house built—a fine house, as big as this one, with a view you’d have to see to believe.”
“And what am I supposed to do while you’re building that house? Live in a one-room cabin, chopping wood, skinning rabbits, and scrubbing clothes on a washboard, with no hired help?”
A cabin was good enough for Lorna Calder. And look what she’s getting now.
The thought crossed Joe’s mind, but he knew better than to say it aloud. He’d wanted a wife like Lorna, who was as tough and capable as she was lovely. What he’d gotten was a pretty little toy.
“You’re nothing but a dreamer, Joe,” she said. “We could stay here. We could live in this house. You could work with Daddy, and when he died, all this would be ours. Isn’t that enough for you?”
“It might be, if I were a different man.”
“Then maybe I should have married a different man.”
“Maybe you should have,” Joe said. “But this is who I am. I want to build something of my own. If you don’t like it, you can always pack up and go back to St. Louis.”
The words were out, and it was too late to take them back. Had they passed a point of no return in their marriage? Was this the beginning of the end? Silent now, Joe waited for her to speak.
With a sigh, Amelia sank onto the edge of the bed. “I can’t go back to St. Louis, or anywhere else, Joe,” she said. “I’m going to have a baby.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Four years later
THE JULY DAY HAD BEEN HOT AND SULTRY, BUT A CHANGE WAS IN THE air. In the west, clouds billowed over the horizon. A breeze, smelling of dust and rain, rippled the ripening wheat fields. In the distance, a flock of blackbirds rose and scattered.
With the help of Blake, her four-year-old son, Sarah opened the windows of the stifling house. After moving the rocker out to the vine-covered front porch, she sat down to savor the coolness and watch the storm come in. Her hands reached for the knitting bag she’d hung over one arm of the chair. She wasn’t an accomplished knitter. But she hoped to finish the sweater she was making for Blake before cold weather arrived in the fall.
Blake came outside and sat on the top step, near Sarah’s feet. Humdinger, the big, yellow mutt they’d rescued as a puppy two years ago, settled next to his young master. The dog was devoted to Blake and protective of Sarah. Gentle as he was, he also looked menacing enough to scare off intruders.
Blake reached up and scratched the dog’s ears. Joe’s son was a good boy, bright, compassionate, and eager to learn. Sarah could no longer imagine her life without him. Studying him now, she thought of Joe and how alike the two of them were. But Joe probably had children of his own by now. He would never know this wonderful son he had given her.
“Mama, what are clouds made of?” Blake was curious about everything, always asking