The sunrise was magnificent that day, when Scully lifted her onto the Appaloosa’s back, then swung up behind her. His arms felt solid and strong around her as he grasped the reins, and his breath was warm through her hair as he kissed the back of her head.

Evangeline fitted herself comfortably against him, content to be headed, at long last, for home.

January 28, 1874

My Dearest Rachel,

I was exultant to receive your letter, promising to come to Springwater and take on the task of teaching in our brand-new schoolhouse. Granted, it stands directly across the road from the Brimstone Saloon, but there is not overmuch gunfire during the daylight hours, so you needn’t worry on that account.

Although Abigail will not be attending, the distance being quite considerable, it gives me tremendous joy to know that you will be near enough to visit on a regular basis! How eager I am, my beloved friend, to hear your voice and look upon your dear, familiar face. There is ever so much I want to tell you and, of course, I am full of questions about our friends and neighbors there in Pennsylvania. Please do not feel that you need spare me any scandal—I want to hear it all!

We are snug in our new house in the high meadow now, and both Abigail and little John Jacob (we call him JJ, as you no doubt recall) are thriving like summer weeds. JJ is two now, and already tagging after Abigail as much as she will allow. She rides constantly, so JJ wants to ride too, and Scully is teaching him. Often, both children accompany him and the ranch hands when they ride out to look for strays. I must be in some favor in heaven, for I pray a great deal! I hope the new baby, due about the time of your expected arrival here, will be a girl, one inclined toward the more feminine pursuits. Abigail shows scant interest in sewing and the like.

By now, you will have received the bank draft for your passage and the reading primers you have so kindly agreed to purchase and bring with you. Will you do me a most particular favor, if it is within your power? I will understand if you must refuse, of course, but I have been thinking, through these bleak winter days, of the huge old paeonia plant that grows at the edge of Clara’s garden, the one with the bright crimson blossoms. Is it still there? Could you possibly—please, please—bring a cutting when you come? I would cherish it, as you know, and be forever grateful.

But I meant to tell you more about the house. Scully built it with his own hands, mostly, though some of the cowboys helped. It is a log structure, but quite grand, with two stories. There are three stone fireplaces and four bedrooms. Best of all, we have water tanks, one in the kitchen, one in the bathing room. The luxury, Rachel! I can have a hot bath whenever I want, which is just about every night. I declare, I feel downright decadent. All of us work very hard, of course, for the land demands that.