Marriage by Mail (Grace Church Book 1) by Jan Holly

older brother, and what it had been like living in Montana. He described how his brother, Abel, had left to make his living in Texas as a rancher. Charles hadn’t heard back from him in a while, and admitted he was worried.
    “It’s a hard life, being a rancher. He wanted me to consider going with him, but our father hoped that we’d both work with him and inherit the smithy. Ever since I was a small boy, all I wanted was to be a blacksmith, so I was glad to stay in Montana. Seemed like it took the wind out of all our sails, though, Abel leaving. My mother said she longed to see more of America, and got my father thinking about homesteading in California. The rest is history. I reckon, towns keeping growing with the railway growing as fast as it is, and more people mean more work for a blacksmith.”
    Rose asked him more questions about his work, his family, and the people of Cutler’s Pass. He described a weathervane he had just made, and how one of his favorite things was making and repairing tools, although shoeing horses was a close second. His assistant, Sylvester, was taking on more and more of the farrier work, and Charles said he missed it.
    She was curious, too, about the plants, trees, and animals she saw as they drove. “Even the air has a fragrance entirely different from the scent of Boston’s air,” she said, taking in a deep breath.
    “Does it, now?” Charles took his eyes off the road to glance at her. He smiled broadly. “What does it smell like?”
    “It’s an aroma almost impossible to describe, but I’ll try to do it justice. It has the fragrance of a hotter, more southern sunlight on dry earth with its own unique combination of minerals. Mingled with this is an amalgamation of almost herbal-like scents from various aromatic plants and trees. It’s wonderful.”
    Charles laughed out loud. Rascal rotated his ears backwards for a few paces. Charles asked her, hesitatingly, about her life in Boston. She was quick to describe details about her life, leaving out her late family members, and the time passed quickly. The landscape began to change, subtly at first, and then more dramatically. They entered a grove of trees.
    “It’s so dark, now, and damp,” Rose said wonderingly, staring up at the trees. They were a type of pine trees, she could see, and their graceful branches spread out and interconnected overhead, creating a lace-like canopy.
    “Almost there,” he said.
    They drove on, out of the grove and up a slight incline. Charles slowed Rascal and they walked into a forest of redwoods. After a few moments, he stopped the buggy and the three of them were enfolded in a hushed silence. Charles turned in his seat and lowered the buggy’s roof, and Rose looked straight up.
    “These are redwoods,” she whispered. “They are, aren’t they?”
    “Yes,” he said, watching her face.
    The trees were enormous, stretching high overhead. The girth of the trunks was astounding. The forest was nearly silent.
    “It’s like a kind of church,” she said, looking at him with tears in her eyes.
    He nodded and got out of the buggy, going around to help her down. They walked up to a tree and touched its porous bark, gazing up into its branches. She marveled at the deep quiet in the forest.
    “When I’m here, I feel as though I’m saying a prayer. But I don’t say a word,” said Charles.
    She turned to him, understanding in her eyes, and nodded.
    They walked together, their footsteps muffled by the pine needles that carpeted the forest floor.
    “I’m imagining how many centuries these trees have witnessed,” she said.
    Rose wanted to keep going after they had walked for a bit, but Charles urged her back to the buggy.
    “We don’t want Rascal to get lonesome,” he said.
    “You’re really concerned that I’ll become fatigued, aren’t you?” she asked seriously.
    “Well, that, too,” he said casually, looking off to the side.
    She tucked her hand around his arm and he stopped walking.