Outside, a coyote howled and got no returning cry. Silence stretched long. There was an unnatural stillness on the plains tonight. She pictured the poor beast rambling for miles and still not locating its pack.
From the bedroom she heard Matt whispering softly to Lucy. Quilts rustled and settled when he tucked her in. The smack of his lips whispered against her forehead.
It was a shame about the wolf. How many other creatures had been separated from all that was familiar? Dens and nests ruined, families shattered?
If tonight seemed so desolate, what would tomorrow night bring? With Matt gone, as he certainly would be, would she find herself in the barn keeping company with the pups?
Her house, her dream of dreams, with every comfort a woman could want, should be enough to see her through any despair. Its good solid walls would shut out misery and heartache.
Without a doubt, her home made every one of life’s burdens lighter. Didn’t it?
She glanced about her parlor. Her very own walls glowed amber in the lamplight and shut out the wind that whistled over and under the eaves, leaving her safe and warm. But were they more of a comfort than a husband’s arms?
Footsteps clicked down the hall. The rocking chair across from her creaked with Matt settling into it.
She watched him take off his boots and socks, then stretch his toes toward the fire. Beautiful toes, long and straight, that had carried him thousands of steps to build her this sanctuary.
There had been a time when his mother would have kissed and tickled the baby roundness of them. If Emma gave up this wonderful home and moved to California, Matt would give her a chubby little baby to love and tickle.
At the beginning of summer, that would have been the last star she would have wished upon. Now, well, she didn’t know anything anymore.
“Is Lucy feeling any better?” she asked.
“Still got a bellyache, but she fell asleep.”
“It isn’t like her to refuse to eat her dinner.”
Matt rubbed his hands over his face, then shook out his hair. The fire’s glow caught the bristle of a day’s growth of beard and burnished it with golden lights.
“You didn’t do much with yours, either. I suppose it’s the same grief gnawing at the both of you. Pearl was a good old horse, there’s none to say she wasn’t,” he said.
“She wasn’t so old.” She rocked in her chair and crossed her arms. “Matt, my troubles aren’t the same as Lucy’s. Does she even know that you are leaving in the morning?”
“No. I tried to tell her, but the words to make her understand wouldn’t come.” Matt rocked forward, planted his elbows on his knees and stared down at his feet. “Emma, would my leaving grieve you?”
“How can you ask? You know how fond I’ve grown of all of you.”
Matt looked up, straight into her eyes. “That’s not what I’m asking and you know it… . Will you grieve for me?”
The fool man! Did he want a declaration now, when tomorrow morning he would be riding off and taking her heart with him? Lordy, but she might be grieving more than this house could comfort.
“You’ll be on the train long before I have a need to be grieving, Matthew Suede.” He started to speak, but she hurried on saying anything that popped into her mind, anything to keep him from lingering here in such great danger. “I have a plan. I’ll go into town and make a ruckus of some kind near wherever Hawker is. I’ll call out for the doctor. Maybe I’ll say you cut your hand on a bottle of Orange Lilly and you’re half bled to death. I—”
“Hold on a minute, darlin’.” He scooped up her hands and rubbed his rough thumbs across her knuckles. “You know that’s not what I was asking.”
“It’s got to be the morning train.” Emma tried to snatch her hands back before he noticed their trembling, but he held firm and brought them to his lips. He didn’t kiss her fingers but held them to his mouth. He took a long slow breath. “I’ll say that…that…wolves—or I’ll faint dead away in Hawker’s arms of some fright…that should keep him busy until—”
“Emma.” His breath washed over her knuckles. “Why would your grief not be the same as Lucy’s?”
“I’ve become fond of you.” There was no sense in denying what he must see so plainly on her face. “There’s no point in denying that I’ll miss