Maybe Kate would become his Julia Cline, a bride who'd stay. Bring him love and happiness and children- "I thought you told me you didn't know what you felt for this woman."

He startled. How'd he forget Will was right there? "I don't. How could I?" Though the thought of her giving him children heated his limbs enough he could shuck his coat.

Will's grin grew wider. "I knew Eliza was The One the second I saw her, though I had to ignore her, seeing how she arrived for another man."

Silas rolled his eyes. "Now you're telling tales. That's nothing but hindsight."

"Ah, but I recognize now what those feelings were, and I recognize them in you."

"I'm glad one of us is certain of what I'm feeling." He huffed, trying to find something to say to lighten the mood. "The men won't welcome a married man to play chess in their club. I need someone to play with besides Anthony-and you're lousy."

"Considering how Kate's already got you checkmated, I bet she'll prove to be an excellent chess player."

Just like a king stuck behind a wall of pawns, Silas was ensnared by the integrity he wanted to keep and half a hope things would work out. "I am indeed trapped."

"Aw, Jonesey." Will hopped up and slapped him on the back. "I'm teasing. A good woman isn't a trap, or rather it's a trap you don't mind being in."

Silas kept his eyes on the black dot of a train engine appearing under the smoke as more people wandered up from the streets to wait on passengers. "Eliza sure has you bamboozled if you're willing to lie still in a snare."

"Hmmm. Lying down in her snare is a fine place to be, my friend."

Silas groaned. One would think Will was still on his honeymoon the way he couldn't keep that silly look off his face.

His own honeymoon haze had lasted a day before Lucy found everything he did or owned unsatisfactory. "Don't you have doctoring to do?"

"You trying to get rid of me?" Will nudged him with his elbow. "You're the one who asked me to stand here and watch you pace."

"I didn't know you'd probe so much." Silas waved at an acquaintance from church, thankful the man didn't come over to chat before joining the waiting crowd.

"No probing necessary, your agitation's written all over your face. I'm just amusing myself."

"A doctor's job is to calm nerves, not ratchet them up."

"Ah, but I'm not charging you for the hour, so you're just a friend, and those I mercilessly taunt." Will gave him a glare that was probably supposed to look malicious, but Will and malicious combined as well as oil and water.

"You're in too good of spirits for me." The hiss of the slowing locomotive would soon make talking difficult. "I'm facing potential doom and gloom right now."

"You're right, I'm much too happy for doom and gloom." He pulled a cigar from his chest pocket. "I don't smoke these, but Carl Hampden gave me a handful. Here." He poked one toward him. "I'll finally be feeling that fatherly pride you've been reveling in."

"Fatherly pride? You?" Silas let Will's smile leak onto his face, just a little. "Congratulations, Stanton."

He clamped onto Silas's shoulder. "Thanks."

What would it feel like to be Will? Having a wife he loved, raising a child who'd love him in return, being so sure things would work out.

If he hoped for such things, and they didn't come true . . .

The clamor of brakes and steam grew loud enough they'd have to yell to communicate, so they didn't talk while the engine protested to a stop.

Would this locomotive bring him the same happiness Will and Everett had found? The opposite of what he'd attached himself to last time?

While the deafening noise of released steam dissipated, more townsfolk swarmed the platform, effectively corralling Silas's fidgeting feet.

He'd asked Will to wait with him, but now . . . He turned to face Will so the man could read his lips. "You wouldn't mind if I asked you to . . . uh . . . not be here when . . ."

Will cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted. "Bring Kate by to meet the wife."

He nodded and shook hands with Will before his friend bounced down the platform stairs.

If only he felt like bouncing. The dying hiss of the train muffled the heartbeat throbbing in his ears-the only part of him that bounced. The rest of his body weighed like lead, anchoring him to the platform.

As did the memory of his impulsive proposal.

And the feel of Kate's lips on his.

Last to disembark, Kate didn't bounce down the steps. Hesitating on the bottom stair, she put a hand to her brow to ward off the sun. Her simple straw hat's tiny brim was uselessly decorative, hardly covering her auburn hair, which was prettier than the hat anyway.

He waved until she raised her hand in acknowledgment. Slowly, he wove through the crowd as did she, but he stopped before they got within talking distance. How did a man greet a woman he scarcely knew, yet had kissed like no woman he'd ever known?

He certainly couldn't kiss her like that again in front of so many people-despite having done so in Breton.

His hand clamped onto his neck. Had he completely ruined her reputation? Was that why she came with no warning, no discussion? God forgive him for his loss of sanity.

A pretty woman, a mother for his child, a family-maybe his loss of sanity wouldn't turn out so bad. Maybe he'd be as happy as Will with time. God wanted good things for him-the Bible said so.

He dragged off his hat and forged forward the last few steps.

She slowed, one arm crossed across her stomach and anchored to her other arm carrying a valise. She looked intently in his eyes, making him squirm. What was she looking for?

He held out his hands as if approaching a hurting wild animal. "Can I take your bag?"

She shook her head, her eyes blinking rapidly, perhaps holding back tears, perhaps just irritated by smoke, but they were definitely red-rimmed. "You'll need to get my trunks."

He still held out a hand. "I can come back for them."

She squeezed the bag's handle tighter. Maybe she needed it? "I'm capable of carrying it myself-thank you."

"All right." He shouldn't let a lady carry a heavy bag when he had empty hands, but her trunks were not yet retrievable. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Was she reliving the electricity they'd shared weeks ago? Was that what kept her as tongue-tied as he?

With her feet firmly planted on the platform and her back as straight as a fence post, she didn't look willing to move. "I want you to know I can't promise anything until I'm certain you've told me the truth about yourself."

So her tongue untied first to bushwhack him. Kate wouldn't be this wary if Lucy hadn't talked so badly of him-some of her tongue-lashings likely earned.

His hands itched to reach for Kate, to make her rigid frame soften in his arms again, but that likely wouldn't work right now. And he'd already ruled out kissing her. He fidgeted and ended up putting his hands in his pockets. "We don't have to rush into anything. We can't get married for a week or so anyway. Got to get a license and you a dress. If you want-"

"Dress?"

"Do you have something nice already?" He'd never seen her in anything but brown and navy wool dresses. She probably had lighter weight outfits, maybe in prettier colors, but that wouldn't help now since the weather had turned cold. And he had promised her the best wedding he could afford. He wished he'd not said that after taking a look at his farm, but a woman would want a nice dress at least.

She pulled at her neckline. "All I have are these. I put on collars and cuffs for Sunday."

That's what he'd thought. "I arranged for you to stay at Mrs. Langston's boardinghouse. She's a seamstress. Figured you could get some material from the mercantile and work on a dress with her."

She seemed to be breathing easier and her hand relaxed on the handle of her bag. "I wouldn't feel right asking someone I don't know to work on my dress."

"I don't think she'd mind, but if she did, I could pay her something, or we could wait until you're finished." He waited until she looked him in the eyes. "When you're ready."

Finally, her shoulders loosened, and her chest rose with a deep breath. A smile even played on her lips.

He smiled back and offered his arm again. "Now, about seeing my farm. Will was right when he sent me those telegrams. It's not in good shape anymore. I hope that won't make you think less of me when you see how much money I'm going to have to pour into it to get it back to where it was just weeks ago. Anthony's at the post office, so we could pick him up and head out. But my place is about fifteen minutes north, so if we go there tonight, you'd see little of the homestead before we had to come back. It might be best if I came for you tomorrow."

She nodded. "Tomorrow's fine. What about my trunks?"

"I'll come back for them. We'll get Anthony first. I'm sure you're eager to see him."

She swallowed and nodded again. He reached for her bag, which she thankfully released this time. He threw the valise in his borrowed wagon before taking her arm and guiding her down the busy sidewalk. They walked a block of Main Street in silence. Weren't women supposed to be talkative?

With every passerby's side glance or raised eyebrow, his chest tightened, making it difficult to draw sufficient breath. The townsfolk were used to strangers coming off the train, but not one on his arm. Halfway to the post office, he cleared his throat. Guess he had to start the talking. "This is Main Street. Most of the shops you'll want to visit are here. There's Hampden's Mercantile. You'll find pretty material there for a dress-just tell them to put it on my account." He pointed to the shop they were passing. "This is the tailor."

Surely she could've read the signs herself, but it kept his mouth moving, so he kept pointing out which business was which. Hopefully talking would keep anybody from coming over for an introduction . . . or to ask pesky questions.

They passed Will's old store, now a millinery, and Silas stepped in front of Kate to open the post office door.

Anthony sat staring at a chessboard, chin held in both hands, and then reached over to move his queen. He hadn't told the boy Kate intended to come today, in case she'd not arrived for some reason.

Jedidiah glanced up from handing a woman a pile of mail. His gaze bounced off Silas and onto Kate. "Good afternoon."

Anthony looked up, and his eyes brightened. "Miss Dawson!" He stood so fast he bumped the table and several of his chess pieces fell over. "You came!" He ran over and hugged her waist.

She wrapped him tight against her. "I told you I would."

A woman who kept her word would keep her vows. Wasn't that what he'd wanted most in a wife? A woman who'd never abandon Anthony . . . though they could run away together.

He pinched the bridge of his nose to snuff out the wayward thought. His fears were messing with his logic. She'd told him in Breton she believed the boy belonged with him, but she had contemplated running when the boy was in danger of going with Richard.

Even if she didn't find anything wrong with him personally, if she found life on a homestead too hard . . .

He'd just make sure to ease Kate into farm life-unlike he had with Lucy. He wouldn't assume this go-around that his wife would know how crazy planting and harvest times were, how the fields demanded they work from dawn to dusk.

Wife. Just the thought of the word sent a shiver down his arms. Kate peered up at him with a question in the lift of her eyebrow, but he only shook his head.

Thankfully, they'd have the winter to adjust to each other before the land claimed their full attention.

Jedidiah walked around his counter, wiping his hands on an ink-stained white cloth, taking in every inch of the newcomer. "How do you do?"

Silas stepped forward. "Mr. Langston, this is Miss Dawson. My son's teacher from Breton."

"Anthony mentioned you planned on visiting." Jedidiah's tone was suspicious. "But I figured you'd wait 'til winter break, being a teacher and all."

She looked between the two men, likely wondering if such direct questioning worried Silas.

"Yes, she's early. Come, Anthony." He'd hoped to have this conversation with Jedidiah later, because right now, he didn't even know why she'd come so quickly. And he definitely wouldn't discuss the subject in front of Anthony. "Let's get Miss Dawson's things to the boardinghouse."

The door creaked open behind them and a couple from across town came in. Thank God for customers to distract his friend. "See you tomorrow night, Jedidiah." He'd figured they could play chess after bringing Kate back from seeing the farm, not that he was eager to endure the inevitable interrogation. But Anthony seemed interested in the game now-or rather bent on beating Lynville, since everyone else could.

Maybe with Anthony along, the men would keep from berating him for shucking the title of disgruntled bachelor. They'd already cleaned up their language in front of the boy, and a gentleman didn't talk about someone's soon-to-be momma like they would an old flame. If his marriage turned out, maybe the other men would finally see forgiveness could free them up for better things too.

At least Silas hoped he was headed for better things. If not, these men would rub his nose in his every misstep. He held open the door for Kate and Anthony to exit.

Please tell me if we're making a mistake, Lord.

But of course God didn't answer with a voice or a vision.

A peace maybe? Could you give me a peace?

But he'd already asked for that while imagining marrying her-or not-and his guts still turned with indecision.

Anthony held Kate's hand as they left the post office. "I'm so glad you're here."

Silas followed them out into the chilly air but let them walk ahead.

"I'm glad to see you too." She pulled the boy closer, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and rubbing his arm.

Though she didn't say she was glad to be here.

Hadn't she turned down his proposal in Breton? So what made her come without one letter between them? Something must have happened with her job.

He should've taken her to the hotel to eat before retrieving Anthony. Then he could've asked her what had spurred her to Kansas without the boy's listening ears.

"I can't wait to show you my kitten." Anthony practically skipped beside Kate down the sidewalk, though he'd surely claim he was too old for such behavior. "I got to pick one from Dr. Stanton's litter, and I chose the black one with three white socks. Mr. Jonesey said I should name him Socks, but that's too easy. Maybe you could help me think of something."

"What's his personality like?"

"Well, he attacks Mr. Jonesey's old knotted sock as if it's a ferocious critter one minute and then falls asleep with it the next."

And with every step beside Kate, Anthony talked faster.

Silas walked behind them, soaking up the stories his boy told her so freely. They weren't within sight of the depot yet, and Anthony had already used more words with Kate than he'd bothered to spill since leaving Missouri.

The two of them together, conversing with such ease did his heart good, and yet, he wasn't a part of it. Would they forever shut him out, or had three decades without bonding with anyone set him up for stilted relationships for the rest of his life?

Chapter 17.