'Yep. Yes, miss, I do. He complimented me on my language this morning, and when I told him how big your pa was on learning he said that he thought fine men came in both black and white, and that he was mighty proud to know me.'
Kristin smiled. 'That's nice, Samson. That's mighty nice.'
They were both silent for a moment. Then Kristin began to grow uncomfortable, wondering what he really thought of what was going on with Cole Slater.
'The world just ain't the same anymore, Miz Kristin,' Samson said at last. 'The world just ain't the same.' He chewed on a long blade of grass and stared out at the pastureland. 'No, the world just ain't the same, and we can only pray that it'll right itself when this awful war is over.'
Kristin nodded. Then she turned to him and gave him a big hug. She didn't know what she'd do without him and Delilah.
She didn't see Cole again all that day and night. He was still out with Pete and the boys at dinnertime, and later, much later, she heard laughter and the strains of Pete's fiddle coming from the bunkhouse. That night she slept alone again in the big sleigh bed in her parents' room.
In the morning she didn't know if he had ever come to bed or not. For some reason, she didn't think he had, and she wondered why he was taunting her this way when he seemed to have so little real interest in her. Her temper rose, but then she remembered that she should be grateful to have him here. And then she was afraid he would leave.
And then she hated him. He was supposed to want her. They were supposed to have a deal. She was supposed to loathe him for taking advantage of her weakness. But she was the one left wondering and wanting. No, not wanting. Merely curious, she assured herself. But she couldn't deny that she had been in a fever ever since he had come. She simply couldn't deny her emotions.
Then he was there. He was there all day. He passed her in the hallway and tipped his hat to her, a smile of amusement tugging at his lips.
'Wait!' she cried. 'Where are you going?'
'Rounding up strays.'
'Let me come.'
His smile faded. 'No.'
'But —'
'My rules, Kristin.'
'But —'
'My rules.'
She gritted her teeth and stiffened, watching him for a moment in simmering silence. He smiled again. 'But I will be back for supper this evening. Steak and sweet potatoes and Delilah's black-eyed peas, and blueberry pie for dessert. And then…' He let his voice trail off. Then he lifted his hat again and turned and left.
And she didn't even know where he had spent the night.
It was another wretched day. She fed the chickens. She groomed her horse. She played with little Daniel, marveling in spite of herself at the way the child grew daily. She wandered around upstairs. Then she found herself sitting at the foot of the big sleigh bed.
His blanket lay on the floor next to the dresser. Kristin hesitated, staring at it for a long while. Then she got up and went over to it.
And then she unrolled it and went through his personal belongings.
There wasn't much. If he had a wallet, he had it with him. There was a shaving mug and a tin plate, a leather sack of tobacco, another sack of coffee and a roll of hardtack.
And there was a small silver daguerreotype frame.
Kristin stared at it for a moment then found the little silver clasp and flicked it open.
There were two pictures in the double frame. The first was of a woman alone, a very beautiful woman, with enormous eyes and dark hair and a dazzling smile.
In the second picture the woman was with a man. Cole.
He was in a U.S. Cavalry uniform, so the picture must have been made before the war. The woman wore a beautiful, voluminous gown with majestic hoops, and a fine bonnet with a slew of feathers. They weren't looking at the camera. They were looking at one another.
There was such tenderness, such love in their eyes, that Kristin felt she was intruding on something sacred. She closed the frame with a firm snap and put it back inside the blanket, trying to put everything back together as if she hadn't touched it at all. It didn't make any difference, she told herself dully. He should expect people who didn't know a thing about him to check up on him. No, that didn't wash, not at all, not even with her.
The woman was dead, she thought.
She didn't know how she knew, but she knew. Cole Slater had loved her, and Kristin was certain that he wouldn't be here with her now if the woman in the picture were still alive.
There seemed to be an ominous silence all over the house as dinnertime approached. Delilah had been out to feed the hands, and the table was set for the family.
Set for three.
They weren't using the fine service that evening. Shannon had set out the pewter plates, and the atmosphere in the dining room seemed as muted and subdued as the dull color of the dishes.
Cole had stayed out all day. Kristin had done her best to be useful, but the day had been a waste. There was no way out of it. She couldn't forget Cole's promise that he would be there that night, and she couldn't forget the woman in the picture, and she couldn't forget the startling array of emotions that it had all raised within her.
Kristin had dressed for dinner.
She was a rancher, and this ranch on the border between Kansas and Missouri was a far cry from the fine parlors and plantations back east, but she was still a woman and she loved clothes.
It was a weakness with her, Pa had told her once, but he'd had a twinkle in his eyes when he'd said it. He'd always been determined that his daughters should be ladies. Capable women, but ladies for all that. He had always been pleased to indulge her whims, letting her study fabrics, and to pick up her
And there had been nights when Adam had been there, too. Sometimes winter had raged beyond the
windows, but they had been warm inside, warmed by the fire and by the love and laughter that had surrounded them.
That was what Zeke had hated so much, she thought. He had never understood that laughter and love could not be bought or stolen. He had called her a traitor to the Southern cause, but she had never betrayed the South. She had merely learned to despise him, and so she had lost her father, and then Adam, too.
Today she could remember Adam all too clearly. He had loved books. He had always looked so handsome, leaning against the fireplace, his features animated as he spoke about the works of Hawthorne and Sir Walter Scott.
No one had told her that Adam was riding out after Zeke. She'd never had the chance to try to stop him.
And now she wondered painfully if she had ever really loved him. Oh, she had cared for him dearly. He had been a fine man, good and decent and caring, and he had often made her laugh.
But she had never, never thought of Adam in the way that she had Cole Slater, had never even imagined doing with Adam the things she had actually done with Cole Slater.
And she didn't love Cole Slater. She couldn't love him. No, she couldn't love him, not even now. How could a woman love a man who had treated her the way he had?
But how could she forget him? How could she forget all she had felt since she'd first seen the man? How could she forget all that had passed between them? Kristin realized that it was difficult just to be in the same room
