The Kissing Tree by Prudence Bice

give up.
    Theodore solemnly returned home to his sister with no hope to soothe her aching heart. She continued to be tormented with unanswered questions. In fact, her anguish and misery seemed to increase for a time.
    They finally concluded that Mitch must have been injured while traveling and died from his wounds, or if his fate wasn’t an accident, he was most likely killed by either hostile Indians or outlaws. That summer, there had been more than one reported incident between their town and Denver.
    Georgiana could see Samantha still grieved for him terribly but was well practiced at hiding it most of the time. She wished she had been around to comfort her dear friend. They had missed out on so much together. It all seemed so unfair.
    After dusting the tops of the pies with sugar, Georgiana stood at the window and looked at the Colorado Mountains in the distance. She’d stolen away to paint almost every day the men were gone and had finished two paintings completely. A third was more than halfway done. She planned to send one to her mother in New York for her birthday the following month. She knew her mother would appreciate seeing the mountains again. It would remind her of the land she and her father had loved so dearly.
    The most recent letter her mother sent came to mind. Her mother sounded particularly lonely, and guilt washed over her. Aunt Cecelia was probably wearing on her mother’s nerves. With the boys at school most of the time, and the fact that her mother didn’t venture out much, the only one to keep Charlotte company was her sister. The two were so very different. It was hard to believe they were even related. Aunt Cecelia was brash and demanding, selfish and haughty, whereas her mother was warm and kind, most often putting others’ needs before her own wants and desires. Georgiana sometimes wished she had known her mother’s parents so she could compare their personalities to those of their offspring. Sadly though, both of her mother’s parents had died during a cholera outbreak shortly after her mother had married and moved to Colorado. Aunt Cecelia had been left the house and the estate since her mother had been disowned. Georgiana sighed heavily. How tragic it must have been—her mother so far away, missing her parents and hoping they would one day reconcile all that had come between them. What unimaginable devastation she must have felt when they both succumbed to a terrible disease before that reconciliation could happen. Georgiana placed a hand over her heart as she continued staring into the distance, pondering what her mother had suffered.
    She was startled when the kitchen door slammed shut, surprised that she had been so deep in thought she hadn’t even heard anyone come in or go out until then. She was equally surprised to see the wagon in front of the barn. She hadn’t heard or seen it drive up.
    When she caught a glimpse of Ridge walking across the yard to the barn, she deduced he must have been elected to go into town today. Georgiana watched him open the barn door and go back and forth from the wagon to the barn, unloading supplies. Before he’d begun, he’d stopped and rolled up the sleeves of his beige cotton shirt. She admired the way the muscles in his forearms flexed as he easily picked up the heavy bags of horse feed and carried them inside the barn. Indeed, the very sight of him was breathtaking. As a boy he’d been cute . . . as a man he was rugged and handsome.
    A satisfied smile crept across Georgiana’s face. They had somehow found themselves left in each other’s company often over the past few weeks, especially the few nights before the men had gone to the mountains to bring the cattle down. She suspected it was her grandfather’s doing, but, truthfully, she hadn’t minded. He had somehow managed to keep from teasing her—well, enough that she could handle anyway—and she had kept her temper in check. It had actually been quite pleasant, feeling some of the