“I thought so.” She turned to Private Waxworth, who appeared to be trying to blend into the stone of the hearth. “Prepare yourself, Private. I expect you to acquit yourself well.”
Waxworth shot Will a look of appeal.
Will chuckled. “You heard the lady, Waxworth. You’ve been conscripted.”
As Danny came down the stairs, shrugging into his thick wool coat, the private stood at attention and saluted. “I will do my utmost, sir.”
Kate narrowed her eyes. “That’s two against one. Not fair.”
Will’s mouth quirked. “Care to join us?”
Perhaps she was learning the lesson God was teaching, for there was no question of her answer. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
Miss Pringle clapped her hands.
A few minutes later, they were all out on the yard, the sisters, Alberta, and Pansy bundled in coats and robes on the veranda; Kate, Danny, Will, and Waxworth in the snow. Pansy had alerted Caleb. He stood on the porch as well. Kate was just glad her three new guests were content to keep warm inside.
“Caleb, come help!” Danny urged.
In answer, Caleb ducked around the corner of the inn.
“Five minutes to gather ammunition,” Will called. “Then the battle commences.”
Kate made sure Danny was scraping off only the top layer of the snow before packing her own pile. Glancing over, she saw Will and Waxworth doing the same. Will caught her gaze, and his smile hitched up. Blushing, she returned to her task.
“Time!” Mrs. Pettijohn bellowed, and Miss Pringle gave a little squeal.
Will and Private Waxworth hefted a ball each.
Kate bent beside Danny. “One throw, then follow me.”
Danny nodded.
Kate threw. The white flattened against Will’s broad chest. Danny’s snowball struck Waxworth in the knee.
“Now!” Kate cried, scooping up an armful of balls and running for the inn. Danny scurried after her.
“Is that all?” Miss Pringle asked as they rounded the corner.
“Not in the slightest,” Mrs. Pettijohn declared. “After them!”
The next quarter hour was a mad scramble from the barn to the chicken yard to the front of the hotel. Kate hit Will twice more and Waxworth three times. Danny hit someone every time he threw, though not always his opponents.
“Hey!” Alberta called as a ball sailed past to explode against Caleb’s shoulder. “Watch out for the spectators.”
In the end, Will surrendered, hands up, in front of the veranda.
“Terms,” he begged, snow salting his hair.
Kate narrowed her eyes. “They are at our mercy, Danny. What should we do with them?”
“Feed them pie!” Danny shouted before running for the stairs. With a grateful smile, Private Waxworth followed him. The others started into the inn as well.
Will joined Kate. “I can see I’ll have to watch myself this winter.”
The light in his eyes, the tilt of his smile, combined to make her quite warm indeed. And she knew she was the one who would have to watch herself this winter, to keep from falling in love.
The snow sparkled in her hair. Her gaze danced with merriment. Was he mad to see something more, a longing as deep as his own?
Tomorrow, he promised himself. Tomorrow he would tell her all. But the thought of seeing that admiration fade kept him up part of a cold night in his tent.
The blanket of snow ebbed away quickly the next morning, leaving puddles glistening on the road as Will headed for the inn. Miss Pringle and Mrs. Pettijohn were already out on the veranda as he rode in.
“Where are your men, Lieutenant?” Mrs. Pettijohn said with a stern look. “One of them should help a lady onto her horse.”
Will followed Miss Pringle’s gaze to where Kate was coming around the inn, leading one of the riding horses. His heart gave a leap as he swung down. “That’s my pleasure, ma’am.”
Kate met his gaze as she stopped, then nodded, and he put his hands on her waist and lifted her into the saddle. For a moment, he stood, face uplifted, gazing at her. He probably looked like a wildflower turned to the sun. Cheeks pinking, she gathered the reins, then released the button on her skirt, sending the material cascading down the side of the horse like a waterfall.
“Oh, how fine,” Miss Pringle enthused as Will went to remount. “I must get a skirt like that.”
Her sister nodded. “Excellent suggestion. We’ll take up riding when we return. That could lead to our next adventure.”
With a smile, Kate led Will out of the yard.
The road to Old Faithful was an easy path that crossed from pine forest to chalk-and-rust-striped drainage basins before he and Kate reached the area around the Grand Prismatic Spring. Waves of steam crested the road, parting as they came through. Beyond, swallows darted over the marshes. A falcon dipped on the breeze that brought the scent of pine and sulfur.
This was the perfect time to tell her, but he couldn’t seem to find the words.
“Where are my manners?” he asked instead. “I should have made the introductions days ago.” He patted the mare. “This is Bess.”
Kate regarded him, then the horse. “Funny. I would have thought you’d name your horse Thunder or Hurricane. Danny certainly doesn’t approve of Buttercup.”
“Bess was her name when the Army assigned her to me,” Will explained. “I never saw the need to change it. But I can’t blame Danny for his opinion. Who names a horse Buttercup?”
“His father,” she confessed. “You would think someone from Boston would find more patriotic names. The others are Marigold, Aster, and Balsamroot. I had to talk him out of naming Aster here Pansy. We already have one Pansy at the Geyser Gateway.”
“You mentioned Boston,” he said. “Are you from there too?”
“Yes,” she said, guiding Aster over a bump in the road. “I thought I heard a bit of a twang when I first met you.”
“You can’t seem to lose it no matter how long you’re away from it,” he agreed. “What did your parents do?” Was he chattering? No, not really. He wanted to know everything about her.
“My father was a cobbler,” she answered,
