Chapter Four

      The scent of frying bacon led Jack to the kitchen the next morning where he was surprised to see the twins already freshly scrubbed and sitting at the table, digging into bacon and biscuits.

       Caroline sat at the table, too, and raised her head as he entered. She looked clear-eyed and neat as a pin but once again was dressed in black. The hue looked impossibly severe on her, he thought. In spite of the unflattering dress, she was a lovely woman, with her glossy brown hair and large expressive eyes. He had no trouble understanding why his brother had fallen in love with her.

       He wondered when she planned to give up wearing mourning. Surely she didn’t expect to wear black for Pete forever, even if she grieved inwardly for him? He couldn’t help imagining what she’d look like wearing some hue like deep green or gold. But some other man would have the pleasure of seeing her wearing colors again, and that man wouldn’t be a rancher with a weathered face and mud, or worse, on his boots. A woman of her education and refinement would pick another safe sort of husband who worked in the town, as Pete had. A shopkeeper or a preacher, perhaps.

       “Good morning, Papa,” the twins chorused, catching sight of him.

       “Morning, girls.” They looked neat and tidy, too, he noted. Amelia’s hem now was free of stains, and Abigail’s sleeve had been mended. Their hair was neatly braided.

       He hadn’t even heard his daughters get up—which was natural, he supposed, considering how long he’d lain awake last night thinking about Pete. He’d shed some tears, too, but quietly, letting them leak soundlessly out of his eyes and soak into the pillow, lest he wake the girls.

       They’d talked about Pete, before falling asleep, and though the girls were sad about the loss of their uncle, they hadn’t grown up with Pete as he had. Pete had been working in Houston in a druggist’s store by the time they were old enough to remember. He’d made it home to the ranch in Goliad County only a few times a year. In time their uncle would become a distant memory to his daughters, Jack knew. But he would always remember the older brother he’d idolized, the one with all the “book learnin’” their father seemed to prize so much. Jack had always disappointed the old man, even though he, not Pete, had been the one to follow in his father’s rancher footsteps.

       “Good morning, Jack,” Mrs. Wallace said from the stove, where she was turning flapjacks. “I hope you slept well.”

       “Sure was nicer than sleeping on the hard ground, ma’am,” he admitted, not about to let on how long into the night he had lain awake.

       Caroline took a sip of coffee, then cleared her throat. “Why don’t you let Abby and Amelia go to school with me today, since you’re going to be busy going to the bank and out to talk to your men?”

       Abby looked excited at the prospect. “Please, Papa, can we?”

       “Yes, please? I love school,” Amelia added.

       “How do you know, Punkin? So far you’ve only seen recess,” Jack teased. But he felt a surge of guilt, thinking of how slapdash their rearing had been thus far. They were only six, true, but with their mother gone, he’d been too busy around the ranch to teach them the things that children properly learned at their mothers’ knees. Things that prepared them to learn in school. He didn’t want them growing up ignorant of their letters and sums and history and such. Even wives and mothers needed to know these things. Would there be a school in Montana, when he got there?

       “Yes, you can go with Miss Caroline,” he told them, and they clapped. “But you mind what she says,” he added quickly. “Make me proud.”

       “We will, Papa,” Amelia promised, and Abby nodded. Both girls bounced happily in their chairs. “Hooray! We’re goin’ to school!”

       “Then you’d better finish up,” Caroline told them. “The teacher has to be there earlier than anyone to ring the school bell. If you’re done with your breakfast in five minutes, you may take turns ringing it.”

       Immediately they attacked what was left of their meal with enthusiasm.

       Evidently done eating, Caroline brought a plate of flapjacks, bacon and biscuits to the table and set it in front of him, then refilled his coffee cup.

       “Thank you, Miss Caroline,” Jack said. Silence reigned, broken only by the clink of forks on crockery plates, and he fell to musing about his situation. What would Pete have done, if their situations had been reversed?

       Then he realized Mr. Wallace had said something to him while his thoughts wandered. “Pardon me, sir? Guess I’m not fully awake yet.”

       Mr. Wallace looked faintly amused. “That’s all right, Jack. Drink some more of that strong coffee. Caroline makes it so strong a horseshoe will float in it. I was just saying that Caroline tells us you’ve decided to take my advice and talk to the bank president about the Waters ranch,” Mr. Wallace said.

       Jack glanced at Caroline, who was smart enough to look down just then—so he couldn’t see the satisfaction shining in her eyes, he guessed. “I’ll see what the man has to say,” Jack said noncommittally. “And whether my men are willing to stay on here.”

       “You’ll find Henry Avery a reasonable soul,” Mr. Wallace said. “But it probably wouldn’t hurt to tell him I suggested it.”

       “I will, sir, much obliged.” It could only add to his respectability to have the postmaster, a longtime resident, vouch for him. Mr. Wallace had told him yesterday afternoon that the town had held Pete in great esteem, but Jack knew drovers had a reputation everywhere for being wild and irresponsible.

       Jack was thankful Mr. Avery wouldn’t be aware he’d considered pressing north with his herd and his children even with winter coming soon. The more he thought about it now, the more harebrained the idea seemed. What had he been thinking? It was a good thing Caroline and her parents had talked him out of it.

       “Time to go,” Caroline announced to the twins. They jumped up, and she scooped up her poke. The slates rattled inside as she did so, and Jack wondered when she’d had time to look at them. Had she sat up, reading her students’ work by lamplight, after he and the girls had gone off to bed?

       The twins jumped to their feet and dashed over to kiss him. “Bye, Papa,” they chorused.

       “We’ll see you later, Jack,” Caroline said. “Good luck with your trip to the bank.”

       “Bank doesn’t open till nine, young man,” Mrs. Wallace told him. “You might as well have another round of flapjacks.”

       “Don’t mind if I do, thank you,” he said, sure these were better than any flapjacks Cookie had ever made. He thought about asking for the recipe, then realized there’d be no forgiveness from