June-bug was backing toward the station, waving and smiling. She always protested that she never got lonely, that Jacob and the Lord were enough, but Scully figured she missed woman-company more than she let on. After all, Jacob wasn’t much of a talker, and the Lord had even less to say.

There were more and more settlers coming in around Springwater all the time, though, and to Scully’s mind, it was a good thing. Long as they didn’t get too close.

He touched his hat to Miss June-bug and wheeled the Appaloosa around, to pick its way over a hard and slippery trail. Midway back to the ranch, he stopped by the same stream they’d visited before, he and Evangeline and little Abigail, traveling with the mules and sleigh. Some of the ice had melted, and he could see fat, sluggish trout moving slowly around in a little pool. He broke off a switch of birch wood, sharpened the narrow end into a point with his knife, and speared himself five of them, one after another. They’d be his gift to Evangeline, those brown, glimmering fishes, floured and seasoned and fried in lard, and in honor of the occasion, he’d even cut their heads off first.

Pleased, he strung supper onto the stick he’d used to catch it and suspended the catch from the horn of his saddle, then set out toward the ranch again. Some of his joy in planning the presentation faded when he remembered Jacob’s veiled warning. Evangeline was Big John’s woman, and he mustn’t forget that. He was Keating’s partner, and his friend, and stealing a man’s intended wife was, by his own code of honor, an unpardonable sin. Good wives were an asset anywhere, but out here, where a man could go years without so much as clapping eyes on a female, they were a treasure far above rubies.

It seemed to Scully that a cloud passed over the sun just then, though when he looked up, the sky was clear and blue as his mama’s favorite sugar bowl. The ranch was as much his as Big John’s, since they were partners, and he’d planned to build a house of his own on a site he’d already chosen, then travel down to Denver or San Francisco and fetch back a bride. Now, reflecting on how much he enjoyed watching Evangeline Keating smile, and how eager he was to see her again, he began to think he might do better to ride out as soon as Big John got back from Denver. Start over someplace else.

Damn, but that was a dismal prospect.

* * *

Abigail spotted Scully first, perched on the headrail of the bed as she was, peering out the window, with the kitten mincing its way from one small shoulder to the other, trying to get a foothold. The daylight was almost gone, the chores were done, and Evangeline was busy at the stove, stirring a pot of beans, then checking the pan of cornbread in the oven.