Mail Order Prairie Bride: (A Western Historical Romance) (Dodge City Brides Book 1) by Julianne MacLean

dividing the sleep area from the eating area. The table was covered by a white cloth, but as he looked closer, he realized it was an old flour sack cut to fit. Again, fresh wildflowers stood in a cup in the center.
    He removed his coat and turned to hang it on the hook by the door, but noticed a yellow calico sun bonnet hanging there. Where had Sarah found that? The only thing he’d seen her wear on her head was that ridiculous purple thing.
    Just then, the blanket shuddered and Sarah stepped out from behind it. He found himself staring at her. Wondering….
    “You’re back,” she said, her tone cheerful. “How was your day?”
    Even if the cheeriness was an act, it was welcoming, just the same. “Fine. I’m catching up.” He glanced around again. “I see you’ve been busy.”
    Sarah crossed to the stove. Shadow settled down next to her feet. “I went to the Whitiker’s place today.”
    “I figured as much. You weren’t here when I came back mid-day.”
    She whirled around. “You came back?”
    “A man’s gotta eat.”
    Her face went pale. “I’m sorry. I should have prepared something for you before I left.”
    Briggs wondered why she was so apologetic all of a sudden, like she thought he was going to blow a gasket. “Forget it. I’ve been getting by on my own for the past two years. What’s one more day?”
    She stared at him for a moment, squeezing the fabric of her skirt, then seemed relieved and turned back to the stove.
    “What smells so good?” Briggs asked, all too aware of her tiny waist and curvy backside. She certainly didn’t look like she was in the family way, though it was too soon to tell, he knew.
    “I baked a cake. I collected the eggs today and Martha gave me a little sugar. She said it was a welcoming gift. She also gave me a bonnet and that blanket over there.”
    “That was mighty neighborly.”
    “She’s a lovely person.”
    Sarah flitted around the stove a little longer while Briggs sat back in his chair and watched her. The velvety tone of her voice as she hummed a sweet melody, mixed with her graceful movements around the kitchen, were beguiling. It was almost enough to make him forget what he’d been thinking about earlier.
    She lifted the pot’s lid with a towel wrapped in one hand and tipped her face over the rising steam to take a whiff.
    A few minutes later, she turned around with a steaming plate of food and set it down in front of Briggs. He found himself wondering where his thoughts had been the past few seconds—in some other heavenly world, he guessed, a place where nothing but the present mattered.
    “Is this chicken?” he asked, unable to mask his surprise. She hadn’t gone out and shot herself a bird, too, had she?
    “Yes. Courtesy of the Whitikers.”
    His new wife must have made quite an impression on them, he thought, his mouth watering.
    When Sarah finally sat down, they said a quick prayer, then began the meal. They ate in silence, partly because Briggs didn’t know what to say and partly because he was too hungry to talk between mouthfuls.
    When they finished eating, Sarah began to clear the table. “I learned a lot today. I think I’m going to manage just fine when I settle in and start a routine.”
    So she did plan on staying….
    “I’m going to try my hand at making soap before winter,” she continued. “I’ve started saving ashes from the stove. Martha said we can do it together after the pigs are slaughtered.”
    Briggs stared at the back of her slender, pale neck as she rinsed the plates in a bucket. She actually seemed to be enjoying herself.
    “Watch your eyes around the lye when you make that soap,” he told her. “The fumes can sting.”
    “I’ll be careful.”
    She bent forward to open the stove. Her behind jutted out close enough for him to lay his hand on—if he was so inclined—but he fought the urge and concentrated on the delectable smell of baked cake.
    Sarah removed it from the oven and set it on an upturned