Emily’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Now how do you know that?”

“I just do,” Ginny said with a giggle. “He adds sounds to his words when he speaks to her.”

“I believe that’s called stuttering,” Emily said.

“Why do people stutter?” Ginny asked.

“I guess some people stutter when they feel anxious or unsure of themselves.”

Ginny giggled. “Or when they love someone.”

Emily laughed. Never had she known someone so perceptive at such a young age. “And when they love someone.”

“Sometimes you stutter when you talk to Mr. Knight.”

Emily reared back. “Do I?”

“Is that cuz you love him?”

Emily opened her mouth in denial but quickly caught herself. Ginny was still of the age that believed in fairy tales, and Emily wasn’t about to spoil it for her.

“He is my husband,” she said instead and quickly changed the subject. “Let me guess. You recognize Boomer by his voice. But what about the new man, Gabby?”

“He doesn’t talk much,” Ginny said. “Cookie said he’s short in speech and long in silences.”

Emily laughed. “That sounds like something Cookie would say.”

“I think he’s just angry,” Ginny said.

“Angry?” Emily stared at the child. “What makes you think that?”

“Mama doesn’t speak when she’s angry.”

“Hmm. That’s interesting. I’ll have to think about that.”

They walked in silence for a moment before Emily asked, “Why do you want to climb a windmill?”

“I want to climb high so I can touch the sky,” Ginny said.

Emily smiled. “Right now, I want to touch the ground.” She was enchanted by the wildflowers that spread beneath her feet for as far as the eye could see. Nearly overnight, it seemed that a floral carpet had appeared, stretching to the distant hills and beyond.

She picked a blue flower and handed it to Ginny. “Do you know what these flowers are called?”

Ginny didn’t even hesitate. “They’re called bluebonnets. They’re poisonous to eat, but Beanpole Tom said the cattle don’t bother them.”

“Bluebonnets,” Emily repeated. “What a lovely name. And the blossoms do look like little bonnets. Here, help me pick some, and we’ll take them back to the house.”

“Hmm, smell,” Ginny said, holding the one in her hand up to Emily. “It smells like honey.”

Emily sniffed the blossom, surprised to find she could detect less scent than she had imagined.

“Can you smell it?” Ginny asked.

“A little,” Emily said.

A short time later, they returned to the house, each with an armful of flowers, which they unloaded on the parlor hearth. Then Emily began the chore of tracking down enough vases to accommodate the cuttings.

“All we have is our fine crystal,” Cookie said wryly and opened a cupboard filled with neckless whiskey bottles. “Take what you need.”

Emily laughed. “Fine crystal, huh?” Everything on the ranch served a dual and even triple purpose. She took as many as she could carry. “I’ll be careful,” she said, making a show of handling the bottles as she would her aunt’s fine china back home.