mean and hates everyone, including me, but he’s a good guard dog. He keeps snakes away and warns me if anyone gets near the place.”
Hank straightened and gripped the doorknob. “If I’d known you were coming, I would have . . .”
He didn’t finish. It was too late for explanations or apologies. “Welcome home,” he managed as the door creaked open.
Aggie walked in ahead of him and didn’t stop until she was in the center of the polished floor. The storm’s gray light shown the open area in layers of shadows. He stood at the threshold and stared at her back. The big main room looked empty with its two chairs and one long table. The fireplace was cold and dusty. The curtainless windows were stark, letting all the rage of the storm inside and holding no warmth.
“There’s a kitchen and mudroom behind the fireplace. My room is to the left and yours will be to the right once I get my tack out of it. I’ll move my bed in for you until I can build you what you need.”
She hadn’t moved. Her back was so straight he decided she must be in shock. To him the house had been great, but to her it must look cold and bare.
“The kitchen ceiling is only seven feet. I built an attic above it.” He almost said “for kids.” “I haven’t been up there in awhile, but it would make a good storage room if you need one. All that is up there now is an old trunk someone sent back to my father after my mom died.”
“You weren’t there when she died?”
He shook his head. “She left my father and me when I was barely walking. Never heard from her. There must have been nowhere to send her trunk. Our address was still written on the top so they shipped it home to my father. We never opened it.” His words sounded hollow, even to him, but better that, he decided, than angry, which is how he’d felt most of his childhood.
He watched Aggie closely. “I could move it to the barn if you need the space. I don’t even know why I lugged it from East Texas when I moved.”
He had no idea what Aggie needed to feel at home here, but he planned to make sure she had it. “We could order more furniture if you want. I never had much use for it until now.”
She took a step toward the archway leading to the kitchen.
Hank had to keep talking. “You can’t see them for the rain, but there’s a bunkhouse and barn about a hundred feet to the north, and we got a windmill and a good well. In the spring the view is a sight to see from every window.”
She’d reached the kitchen and still hadn’t turned around or said a word.
“I hire hands to help with the spring calving and branding, but during the winter, Blue Thompson and I do all the work. He and his wife, Lizzy, have a place down by the breaks halfway between here and town.” Hank felt near out of information. If she didn’t say something soon he wasn’t sure what to do.
Without warning, she twirled suddenly, her arms wide, her head back, her hair flying behind her.
He watched, hypnotized by the sight of her. If angels ever touch ground they could look no happier than she did right now.
When she stopped, she faced him, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “I love it,” she said.
“You do?”
She nodded. “All my life I’ve lived in tiny little rooms crowded with too many people. Here I can breathe.”
Hank relaxed. “Then I can bring your stuff in and you’ll stay?”
Tugging off her slicker, she answered as she disappeared into the kitchen. “Yes, dear, I’ll stay.”
Chapter 7
Aggie explored her new home while Hank brought in her boxes and bag. Like the main room, the kitchen was twice the size of any she’d seen, and her bedroom had enough space for all four of her sisters to join her. The windows everywhere were tall. She laughed, deciding Hank built them that way so he could see out without leaning down. Her father was short, only a few inches taller than she, and always fidgety in movement. Getting used to Hank would take some time. His strides were long and easy, graceful in a powerful way. But when he was still, he was perfectly still.
While Hank moved his bed into her room, she inspected