a cream gravy.
“I think I’m going to like having a wife,” he said as he walked to the sink to wash his hands. “It looks like you finished your planting.” Making small talk about things was difficult for Doug, because he’d been raised to speak only when he had something important to say. But having a wife meant talking to her.
“I did. I’ll do the wash tomorrow, and then I’ll give the house a good scrubbing. I’m just pleased I got it in, so I don’t have to worry about that anymore. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to get everything planted in time to have a good harvest this year.”
“I hope you planted some pumpkins. One of my favorite things in the world is pumpkin pie!” He could talk to her about food all day. He could talk to anyone about food. It was so much easier than trying to find something else to say.
“I’m glad to hear it. I thought I’d take a basket when we walk tonight, and I hope to find some strawberries.”
“There are some wild raspberries near here, and some wild cherries as well.”
“No strawberries? I was thinking of making a strawberry shortcake. I guess I’ll try to gather both. I can make a cherry pie and maybe a raspberry pie.”
“With homemade whipped cream?” he asked as he sat down at the table.
“Of course. What would pie be without homemade whipped cream.”
Doug smiled as she put the chicken on the table. “That looks wonderful. Have you ever burned anything in your life?”
She laughed. “I thought you wanted a wife who knew how to cook. Why are you acting like you’re disappointed that I’m good at it?” Trudie had always loved to cook, learning from her mother when her mother was not working, and from her older sisters when her mother was. Susan taught Trudie a great deal before she’d moved to Texas.
He shrugged. “I’m glad you can cook, of course, but I just wish you weren’t good at everything.”
“I’m not good at everything. I’m terrible at geography.” She had never been able to figure out her north from her south.
“You are?” he asked. “I find that difficult to believe.”
“Trust me, I’m bad at it. I have no sense of direction either. People would give me directions, and I’d get so turned around, I wouldn’t be able to find my way to save my life.” She put the last of the foods on the table and sat down beside him, bowing her head as she waited for the prayer.
While they ate, she talked to him about what she’d planted, and he talked a little about his day on the ranch. “My foreman was sick today, and I sent him home right after lunch, which meant I spent the entire day working on fences with only four men. The others were out helping with the calves.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I desperately want to make sure none of the calves are lost this year, but that’s really hard to do. Especially down one man.”
“How sick is he? I could make him some chicken soup.” Trudie had often fixed chicken soup for the ailing back in Massachusetts.
He grinned. “You think your cooking can fix anything, don’t you?”
She shrugged. “I think good food can fix anything. And if I’m the one cooking, then I know the food is good.”
“You’re right about that. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed meals as much as I have since you came here. Have I mentioned yet that I’m glad it was you and not the woman I was picturing in my mind?”
“My sister thought I would be perfect for you. She told me so when she handed me the letter.” Elizabeth was always right about those things, though none of her siblings wanted to admit it. She said she could feel who the right woman was for the letter in her hands.
“Your sister?” he asked.
“Yes, my sister Elizabeth. She owns the mail-order bride agency.”
Doug shook his head. “Did you tell me that?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t think it was important. Do you?” Why did it matter if it was her sister who sent her to be his wife?
“If you couldn’t cook and your sister sent you to marry me, I’d be pretty darned annoyed, but since you’re a great cook...I’ll let it slide.”
Trudie grinned. “I’m sure Elizabeth will be very relieved you’re not angry with her.” She wanted to roll her eyes, but she decided that would look