is locked behind a window.”
“Don’t be silly, Greta,” Marty said with a wave of her hand. But her nervous words could not convince her sister otherwise. She tried to change the subject, “That Daniel Bader seems to be smitten with you.”
“He’s a child,” Greta scoffed, shaking her head. A strand of hair fell into her face and she wiped it away before she whispered admittedly, “But isn’t it nice to have someone in awe of you?”
“You are full of sparkling sunshine when it comes to love aren’t you, Greta?” Marty quipped while she loosened her sister’s comb and secured the tuft of hair with it.
Greta’s shoulders rose to her ears and she grinned sheepishly while saying, “I think that love is a wonderful thing. You should let yourself fall in love. Some magnificent day, you will find happiness in a man. And that nice Mr. McAllister just might be the man to give it to you!”
Marty turned away so that her sister could not read her thoughts, as she so often did. With a low voice, she replied, crossing her arms over her chest, “I’m just not ready yet.”
“You’re twenty-seven, almost twenty-eight. If you wait too long, you’ll never have a chance to have children,” Greta blurted out before she touched her fingertips to her lips as if to stop the words from coming out. To lessen the blow, she added, “Mr. McAllister would make a wonderful father. He is so good with the children.”
Marty ignored Greta’s last statement and focused on the earlier declaration. She did not fault her sister for such harsh warnings. She knew in her heart that there was precious little time to find that perfect love and to create children from that union. But Mama was nigh on thirty when she had their little brother, who had died at a very young age. Surely his dying was not due to the fact that she had waited so long to conceive. She wouldn’t think about it, she told herself with a shake of her head.
Staring at her sister, it was as if Marty was looking into a mirror, a slightly altered reflection of her face but the eyes were remarkably the same. Greta stared back at her with conviction and continued the conversation that she had started before, “I am serious, Marty. Don’t try to tell me what I know is not the truth. You have feelings for him as well.”
Listening to frail Greta speaking her mind after all those years of lurking behind her like her sister’s obedient and silent shadow, Marty was surprised by Greta’s candid words. Taken aback and suddenly realizing that what her sister had said was inherently true, she resigned herself to agree with her, “I suppose you are right.”
She stood up with the quilt still wrapped tightly around her shoulders and whirled around to disappear into the darkness, to contemplate that conversation and to capitulate herself to her heart’s wishes. What harm would come of falling in love with him? Surely, she thought, hugging herself against the freezing night air; she would not be as unfortunate with him as she had been with Elias.
Two days later, she saw Caid riding back toward the wagon train and her heart fluttered with elation. She fought the urge to wave to him but watched his proud figure as he sat on his strong stallion and talked with the wagons ahead of her. In quiet anticipation, she waited for him to ride toward her wagon. But when he came toward her, she saw his stern face and she knew that something was wrong.
“Indians ahead,” was what he shouted to all who could hear him. Fearful whispers swept around the train that there was trouble coming. A flurry of hurried preparation to ward off an attack stirred the inhabitants into rounding the wagons into a ring for protection.
Caid rode back toward Marty, his face filled with concern and he slowed his mount in front of her wagon while he said, “Take cover under the wagon. I don’t know if they are hostile or not.”
In his heart, he wished that he could stay close to her, to protect her and
“Don’t be silly, Greta,” Marty said with a wave of her hand. But her nervous words could not convince her sister otherwise. She tried to change the subject, “That Daniel Bader seems to be smitten with you.”
“He’s a child,” Greta scoffed, shaking her head. A strand of hair fell into her face and she wiped it away before she whispered admittedly, “But isn’t it nice to have someone in awe of you?”
“You are full of sparkling sunshine when it comes to love aren’t you, Greta?” Marty quipped while she loosened her sister’s comb and secured the tuft of hair with it.
Greta’s shoulders rose to her ears and she grinned sheepishly while saying, “I think that love is a wonderful thing. You should let yourself fall in love. Some magnificent day, you will find happiness in a man. And that nice Mr. McAllister just might be the man to give it to you!”
Marty turned away so that her sister could not read her thoughts, as she so often did. With a low voice, she replied, crossing her arms over her chest, “I’m just not ready yet.”
“You’re twenty-seven, almost twenty-eight. If you wait too long, you’ll never have a chance to have children,” Greta blurted out before she touched her fingertips to her lips as if to stop the words from coming out. To lessen the blow, she added, “Mr. McAllister would make a wonderful father. He is so good with the children.”
Marty ignored Greta’s last statement and focused on the earlier declaration. She did not fault her sister for such harsh warnings. She knew in her heart that there was precious little time to find that perfect love and to create children from that union. But Mama was nigh on thirty when she had their little brother, who had died at a very young age. Surely his dying was not due to the fact that she had waited so long to conceive. She wouldn’t think about it, she told herself with a shake of her head.
Staring at her sister, it was as if Marty was looking into a mirror, a slightly altered reflection of her face but the eyes were remarkably the same. Greta stared back at her with conviction and continued the conversation that she had started before, “I am serious, Marty. Don’t try to tell me what I know is not the truth. You have feelings for him as well.”
Listening to frail Greta speaking her mind after all those years of lurking behind her like her sister’s obedient and silent shadow, Marty was surprised by Greta’s candid words. Taken aback and suddenly realizing that what her sister had said was inherently true, she resigned herself to agree with her, “I suppose you are right.”
She stood up with the quilt still wrapped tightly around her shoulders and whirled around to disappear into the darkness, to contemplate that conversation and to capitulate herself to her heart’s wishes. What harm would come of falling in love with him? Surely, she thought, hugging herself against the freezing night air; she would not be as unfortunate with him as she had been with Elias.
Two days later, she saw Caid riding back toward the wagon train and her heart fluttered with elation. She fought the urge to wave to him but watched his proud figure as he sat on his strong stallion and talked with the wagons ahead of her. In quiet anticipation, she waited for him to ride toward her wagon. But when he came toward her, she saw his stern face and she knew that something was wrong.
“Indians ahead,” was what he shouted to all who could hear him. Fearful whispers swept around the train that there was trouble coming. A flurry of hurried preparation to ward off an attack stirred the inhabitants into rounding the wagons into a ring for protection.
Caid rode back toward Marty, his face filled with concern and he slowed his mount in front of her wagon while he said, “Take cover under the wagon. I don’t know if they are hostile or not.”
In his heart, he wished that he could stay close to her, to protect her and
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