What Gabby lacked in social skills, he made up for in artistry. He had a unique way of braiding, which made his ropes both beautiful and strong.

“Would you mind if I borrowed that rope?” she asked Gabby, pointing to a discarded length on the ground by his feet.

He looked surprised. “Why?”

Gratified that the man could talk, she explained how she was teaching Ginny vocabulary through touch. The braided piece of leather offered all sorts of possibilities.

He continued working on the rope in his hand. “Keep it.”

Emily tucked the length in her pocket. “Thank you.”

She moved away from Gabby just as Kansas Pete pulled out his fiddle. Beanpole Tom stepped to her side and asked her if she cared to “day-ins.”

“Day-ins?” Emily asked, confused.

Moving his feet, Beanpole Tom showed her what he meant.

“Oh, you’re asking me to dense,” she said in proper Boston style.

This brought a roar of laughter from the men. Knowing that her accent was sometimes as difficult for them to understand as theirs was for her, she didn’t take offense. Instead, she laughed with them.

Beanpole Tom planted his large, callused hand at her waist, and they did a quickstep around the campfire while the others clapped their hands in time to the music. Beanpole Tom had the dubious distinction of being the son of an undertaker. That and the fact that he was more bones than flesh subjected him to much good-natured ribbing.

Despite his lanky form and their differences in height, Emily had no trouble keeping up with him, and their rapid steps were in perfect sync.

It was only after the lively dance was over that Emily noticed Chase watching from the shadows, and her already-pounding heart skipped a beat. It was too dark to see his expression. All she was able to make out were his rigid shoulders as he turned and quickly walked away.

* * *

Ginny was intrigued by Gabby’s leather rope. She ran her fingers along the intricate webbing as if playing a musical instrument. “Could you braid my hair like this?” she asked.

“I can braid your hair,” Emily said. “But it won’t be as fancy as that. Gabby has a special way of braiding. I guess you could say it’s his trademark.”

“Is a trademark like a cattle brand?” Ginny asked.

“Hmm. I guess you could say that.”

“Do you think Gabby would braid my hair like this?”

The thought of the taciturn man braiding a child’s hair made Emily laugh. “I think Gabby would rather stick to leather.” She waited for Ginny to finish fingering the leather piece. “What words can you think of to describe the rope?”

Before Ginny could reply, her mother called to her.

“You better go,” Emily said. “We’ll finish your lesson later.”

After Ginny left, Emily felt restless. She wandered into the kitchen and found Cookie reaching on a shelf for a wire basket.

“Let me gather the eggs,” Emily said.

He handed her the basket. “If you insist.”