She imagined sliding her hand into the V-sloped opening of his shirt and touching the hair she knew felt coarse against her fingertips. She imagined herself removing his faded work shirt, kissing his skin, which tasted salty.
Abby ground her teeth. Why was she doing this to herself? Her thoughts weren’t respectable or ladylike. What would it take for her to learn? She didn’t belong with him.
The trip was painfully slow and it took until nearly lunchtime before she spotted the tips of the town buildings. Even from a distance she could see that the town had come alive. Wagons and horses dotted the horizon.
“How many more minutes?” Quinn said. It was a question he repeated each half hour.
Mr. Barrington pointed toward the town. “We are here, son.”
The boys hopped up and looked around. The town’s single street was filled with wagons and people.
“Where did all these people come from?” Abby said.
“From all over the valley. We’ve got about fifteen families here now.”
A welcome banner tied between the mercantile and the saloon across the street flapped in the breeze. At the end of town there was a large table, covered with all sorts of dishes. Next to it a pig roasted on a spit.
Mr. Barrington tipped his hat to passersby who all openly stared at her. Uncomfortable with their scrutiny she tugged the edges of her jacket down. Everyone was used to seeing Elise at Mr. Barrington’s side. Again, she was painfully aware that she didn’t belong.
“They’re not comparing you to Elise,” he said in a low voice so only she could hear.
Startled by his dead-on accuracy, she sat a little straighter. “I wasn’t thinking that.”
“Yes you were.” He sounded so damn sure of himself.
And she’d have argued with him if he weren’t right. She was amazed how attuned he was to her thoughts. Finally, she relented. “People have to be wondering who I am.”
He pulled the wagon to a stop in front of the mercantile and set the hand brake. He faced her. “They all know who you are. This valley is large but news travels fast.”
“Still, they must miss Elise. She had to have had friends.”
“Not really. Most people who live here today didn’t live here five years ago when I arrived. Those that were here likely don’t remember Elise. She was pregnant or sick most of the time. She only came into town twice when she lived in the valley.”
“Oh.”
“Miss Smyth!” Mrs. Clements’s voice rang out across the street. Carrying a basket full of bread she hurried across, dodging and waving to the other people. Breathless, she reached the wagon. “How are you doing? My heavens, you do look fit as a fiddle. Montana agrees with you.”
Despite the turmoil, Abby was glad to see Mrs. Clements. She was a familiar face, and a woman to boot. “Thank you.”
“Matthias, Mr. Stokes is here and he’s looking to talk money for horseflesh.”
Mr. Barrington nodded, tightening his hold on the reins. “I’ll track him down.”
Mrs. Clements chucked each of the boys under their chins. “Tommy and Quinn, I’ve a new batch of puppies. They’re living under my front porch. If you are very quiet, the mama dog might let you pet them.”
“Puppies!” the boys shouted.
In the distance, a brown-and-white dog sauntered out from under the porch. Her teats hung low and three puppies, no bigger than the palm of a hand, trailed after her.
“Can we go play with them?” Quinn shouted.
“Can we?” Tommy echoed.
Laughing, Mr. Barrington hopped down and rounded the wagon to Abby’s side. He lifted each boy down. “You can go play with them, but mind that you don’t stray far. I want you within shouting distance.”
The boys nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Well, go on then,” he said, giving each an affectionate pat on the bottom before they ran toward the mercantile.
“I shall see you two in a minute,” Mrs. Clements said. “I’ve got to get these breads to the buffet table and there are so many friends who I’ve not seen in ages.” The old woman scurried off.
“I do believe she is in her glory,” Abby said, smiling.
“She does seem happiest when things are stirred up.” Mr. Barrington held out his hands to Abby. “Ready to meet your neighbors?”
She smoothed a curl off her face. “They’re not really my neighbors for long.”
His jaw tightened. “They are for now and that’s what matters.” He wrapped his long fingers around her waist and lifted her to the ground. For an instant, he didn’t release her. “You smell like lavender.”
It pleased her that he’d noticed. “I washed my hair yesterday.”