lot of things, Emma. He’s fond of a threat, but don’t you worry. We’ll keep those firebreaks good and wide around the house,” Matt vowed.
“Around your new grove of trees, too,” Cousin Billy added.
“Thank you. I can’t imagine what I’d do without you.”
“Sometime, when I pass this way again, maybe you’ll make me a pie from one of those trees.” Judging from the grin on Billy’s face, he could smell them baking already.
Emma’s smile shone bright and sincere. Only a few weeks ago she’d have liked nothing better than to see the whole gang of them riding off into the sunset. Only a few weeks ago that had been his clear goal, to see his wife safe and then move along.
If they ever did pass this way again, would Woody Vance be the one grown fine and fat from Emma’s pies?
* * *
If there was a thing that Emma seemed to like more than shopping, Matt decided, it was conversing with her customers about snake oil. To hear the ladies talk, a soul would think that Orange Lilly was the best thing to hit Dodge since Del Monico’s had served its first steak.
Matt followed Emma down the boardwalk. Under one arm he toted a box of fabric and notions for Lucy’s new dress, and under the other he carried the bottles of Orange Lilly they were delivering about town.
Emma’s bustle, swaying with her quick stride, made Matt glad to be walking behind. It was a pleasure to watch her round hips swing back and forth in front of him. He’d make up a song about it, but his head was so full of Emma songs already that another might break his heart wide open.
Their third stop was at Sarah Michaels’s pretty white fenced house. He’d rather pass this one by, but since Sarah was one of Emma’s customers there was nothing for it but to follow her inside.
The house, like Sarah, was bright and cheerful. She must have put the painful shadow of widowhood behind her. Sarah ushered them into the parlor, where pink-and-purple flowers from a window box outside gave off a spicy, sweet scent.
Matt sat back on the sofa beside Emma and sighed in relief. Even though it was Saturday afternoon, Sarah’s burly brother wasn’t there.
The lemonade Sarah served went down his throat cool and sweet. It made listening to the women talk about female troubles less distressing.
At first he thought to ignore talk of monthly pain and contrary moods. He meant to sit back and sip the lemonade, to daydream about having dinner with Emma at Del Monico’s later this evening. Since Lucy was back at the homestead with Red, he’d be able to socialize with his wife with no one to occupy her attention but him.
When the women’s talk swung to the problems of thirteen-year-old girls, it roped him back to the here and now. There were things he would have to know. Without a mother to guide her, Lucy would be turning to him for answers to her changing body. In only nine more years, give or take, he might need this Orange Lilly. What if his little girl went through the tortures some women did?
Without a mother, would Lucy confide in him?
Caught up in his worry, Matt didn’t hear the back door open and close. Sarah’s brother ambled into the parlor and swallowed up Emma’s hand in greeting before Matt could choke down his gulp of suddenly tasteless lemonade.
Matt stood up, but the other man was still taller. He extended his hand.
“Woodrow, good to see you,” Matt said.
Just a few days ago it would have been good to see him. The farmer’s friendly smile would have been returned in kind.
“Woody, have you met Mrs. Suede?” Sarah asked.
“I’ve noticed her about town, but I haven’t had the pleasure until now.” His smile seemed too intimate and his eyes too bright for a first introduction.
Why did Sarah’s big brother have to keep hold of Emma’s hand beyond what was friendly? Shouldn’t she be snapping back out of that handshake by now?
“It’s pleasant to meet you, Woody.”
It wouldn’t have been pleasant if the man hadn’t let go of her hand in time with his next breath.
Just to be sure Woody understood that Emma was a married woman, he caught up her hand and tangled his fingers through hers.
He shouldn’t want the smile that she flashed up at him to be full of true affection—it would only make their parting harder. Likely it was only for show. Emma