Kevin had talked to her on the way home. It was a friendly talk, and she appreciated it. But it didn’t close the divide between them. In some ways it widened it because he was so clear about how much he loved her. And yet he’d started a new life without her. As was right and proper.

The talk had helped her accept the new way of things and see that nothing would or should change that.

The thumping around upstairs told her Wyatt was up. There were other sets of footfalls, so Cheyenne and Falcon were stirring, too.

It was a chilly day. There’d been snow in the night. She saw it scudding along the ground. Not deep, and it wasn’t the first snow by any means, but it was a reminder that once she got settled in town and the weather closed down the trails, she might not see her family for months. Not for Thanksgiving nor Christmas.

Squaring her shoulders, she accepted that. Parson and Mrs. Brownley would be good companions, and she’d see her family in the summer—but she refused to live out here as Win had done when school wasn’t in session. When she made her break, though they’d always be family, she wasn’t going to ever live with them again. It hurt too much for it to begin and end repeatedly. She’d learned that from being dragged home last night.

Turning her thoughts away from being separated from Kevin and Andy—as if she weren’t already—she stirred a skillet full of scrambled eggs just as footsteps sounded on the stairs. She scraped the eggs onto a platter with the sharp sound of her metal spatula on the cast-iron frypan.

She set the eggs on the table as Wyatt came in. He went straight to his chair and sat.

The bacon was done and keeping warm on the back of the stove. She set that beside him. Then she pulled her drop biscuits from the oven. She’d grated some cheese into them and seasoned them with garlic, which she’d brought along from Kansas. She’d learned to grow it and loved what it added to a meal.

She slid the perfectly browned biscuits into a small cloth-lined basket and set it on the table. Wyatt grabbed the first one before she let go of the basket.

She added a ball of butter to the table, along with sparkling purple jelly that she’d found in the cellar. It must have been made from wild grapes. She’d have to find where they grew next summer and make more.

Then she caught herself. She didn’t intend to ever live here again. Fine, she’d make jelly for Mrs. Brownley.

Cheyenne and Falcon came in next, and they all ate, singing her praises. They were acting like they wanted to make up for whatever had made her leave.