Deb walked beside Trace toward the house. They were nearly there when she noticed something. “The wind died.”
She had her chin tucked into the collar of her coat, but now she relaxed and straightened her neck.
“It didn’t die. Utah picked this spot behind what he called a windbreak. It makes sense just hearing it, but I never thought of that when I built the cabin. Utah’s teaching me a lot.” Trace led her to the door on the west side of the cabin.
She’d expected it to be on the north, where you could step out and see the old cabin. He opened the door, using a wooden latch.
“Look at this. We can latch the door from the inside at night.” Trace grinned. “Not that we have a real big problem with intruders.”
“Utah says he’ll add on an entry room when he’s got time. It’ll cut the wind if we shut one door before opening another. It’ll keep the cabin warmer.”
“That’s so obviously a good idea, but I’d have never thought of it.” She went on into the cabin.
His smile was so friendly, and so happy about this cabin, Deb couldn’t help but return it. Then she stepped inside to a hallway.
“There are two bedrooms, one on each side of the hallway. Then on through is the main room.”
“It’s four times bigger than the old cabin. It’s so nice.” She walked slowly to the middle of one large room. Fireplace right beyond the hall to the north, another door that must lead outside straight ahead.
“It is, isn’t it? Utah did a good job of picking straight logs and knew how to shave the branches off smooth. He’s going to do something more to stop the wind, chink every gap, I don’t know what all, but even without that it’s so much better than the old one, I can’t quite believe it. And the fireplace is tight and big enough to be more convenient for cooking. Utah left a couple of logs out up high on the inside walls.”
Deb looked at the oddly placed open strips on the walls that separated the big front room from the bedrooms.
“He said those will let warm air into the bedrooms and keep it decently comfortable. Utah’s got plans for a table and chairs, too. He says he knows how to make sturdy things but not too fancy. I told him it sounded like he was describing me.”
“Me too.” Deb turned in a circle, taking in everything. The front door faced the east. A window with a shutter was on either side of it—no glass of course. There was a window to the south, the fireplace taking up the west wall. The north wall had a countertop and what looked like a cupboard for a kitchen.
“You’re pretty fancy, I’d say.” Trace had wandered to the fireplace and was feeding logs into it. There was a roughly built woodbox nearby. “He’s going to spend time this winter adding more cupboards. We’ll move the beds from the cabin in here for tonight, and he’ll get on to building one more cot so you’ll have four. The little ones can each have their own. You and Gwen can decide how to divide the bedrooms up with the little ones. He’s got lots of winter projects planned—a dry sink and a split-log floor. He said things I didn’t understand about finishing. Well, he’s got lots of good ideas.”
Deb quit her quiet circling. “This is so nice of you, Trace. But you and your men should sleep in here. Gwen and I are getting by in the old cabin. And this has so much more room, a much better place for three adult men.”
“Utah said if the weather holds, he’ll get up the other house. I reckon I won’t stop him, but he seems to think the hired men should have a separate house from me. I mean, he’s thinking to the future when you’re not here anymore.” He swallowed as if his throat had gone bone-dry.
Deb, for some reason, found his sudden awkwardness endearing. Almost as if he didn’t look forward to that day.
She opened her mouth to thank him again, but she’d already thanked him so often she was afraid he might find it annoying. But didn’t it have to be said, anyway?
“Trace, the lengths you’ve gone to in taking care of us is nothing short of heroic. You are a blessed miracle from God, you and your men. You saved us and now you care for us. It’s the Bible’s very definition of a Christian.”
Smiling, his cheeks a bit pink, he said, “That’s not how it seems, Deb. Having you here, well, I don’t feel like we’ve thanked you enough. The food has been like a dream come true. We really rough it out here. Now to have good food, clean clothes, our mending done. It’s an honor to provide you with a roof . . . one I was going to build anyway, and a warm fire and the goods so you can cook and sew.”
Unsteadily, Deb reached for Trace’s arm. “You can’t know how hard I worked back east, for the paper and at home, and for nothing like the thanks you’re giving me. I can hardly believe a man can speak so kindly.”
“I thought you wrote for a paper with your pa?”
“I did.”
“And he never said thank you?”
Deb laughed with an edge of anger she instantly regretted showing. That shook loose more of the truth than was usual when talking with anyone but Gwen. “I didn’t just write for the paper. I went out and gathered the news stories. I ran the printing press. I sold advertisements and collected the payments for them. I did all the bookkeeping and paid our bills. I had a paper route, and I’d go around town delivering the papers, sell a few more on the street, and we had a paper out five days a week.”
“And your ma?”
“Ma
