Chapter Six
Amy woke before dawn the following morning, and for a moment she lay in bed, watching Tim sleep for a moment. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to waking up in bed with a man, but she sure did enjoy seeing him there.
Amy tossed the quilt aside and hopped to her feet. She quickly dressed in a simple cotton dress. Her fingers worked nimbly, buttoning up with practiced ease. The air outside already hinted at how very hot the day would be.
“Morning’s too precious to waste,” she whispered to herself.
Amy beelined for the chicken coop, where she had seen Tim collect their breakfast bounty. The hens clucked contentedly as she approached, as if they too appreciated the novelty of her company. She reached into the nesting boxes, her hands gentle but confident, gathering warm eggs into the folds of her apron.
“Good morning, ladies,” she cooed to the hens. They responded with a chorus of approving clucks, seemingly charmed by her presence.
Back in the kitchen, Amy set about preparing breakfast with the same love and attention she’d given to every task since arriving at the ranch. The eggs were whipped into a frothy golden sea, and she folded in chunks of bacon. It was a simple meal, but Amy knew that after a year of trying to eat Tim’s cooking, the entire family would appreciate it.
As the family gathered around the table, each face a canvas of sleep-smudged features slowly brightening with alertness, Amy served the scrambled eggs.
“Smells good, Amy,” one of the younger girls murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.
“Thank you, darling,” Amy replied, her heart swelling with pride. “Eat up now, we’ve got a full day ahead.”
While the family ate, Amy’s gaze roamed the room, noting the little touches that transformed the house into a home. Later, she’d get on her knees and give the kitchen floor a thorough scrubbing. A sense of belonging settled within her—a feeling she hadn’t known she’d been missing until now. She wasn’t living in a temporary home anymore. She was a wife and mother, and she had complete control of the house.
“Once I’m done in here,” she thought, “I’ll spend some time with Ruby and Priscilla.” She couldn’t help but look forward to the laughter and joy that the rest of the day promised.
AMY ROSE FROM HER KNEES, the bucket of murky water a testament to her morning’s labor. She wiped a stray wisp of hair from her forehead with the back of her hand, feeling a sense of satisfaction as she surveyed the gleaming kitchen floor.
Stepping into the warmth of the day, Amy shielded her eyes and scanned the expanse of the property. There, by the barn, Ruby and Priscilla were immersed in a game of their own making, their laughter floating on the breeze like dandelion seeds.
“Ruby, Priscilla!” Amy called out, her voice carrying over the open space. Her heart quickened at the thought of sharing this day with them—the first of many, she hoped.
The two girls paused, glancing her way with expressions of curiosity. Ruby, ever the quiet one, seemed to weigh the invitation, her small fingers fiddling with the hem of her dress. Priscilla seemed excited at the idea of adventure, her youngmind likely already racing ahead to the wonders they might discover.
“Come on, let’s explore together! Have you seen the creek beyond the south meadow?” Amy’s tone was light, imbued with an excitement she couldn’t contain.
Ruby bit her lip, hesitating. “Is it far? Mama never let us go too far from the house.”
“Not too far,” Amy reassured, mindful to address Ruby’s reserved nature with gentle encouragement. “And I’ve heard there’s no better place on the ranch for skipping stones.”
Priscilla was ready. The little daredevil was already bounding toward Amy, her small legs kicking up dust. “I want to see! Let’s go!”
“Wait for me!” Ruby’s voice held a newfound determination as she took off after her sister.
Amy led the way, her boots pressing into the soft earth of the dirt path. A chorus of morning birdsong filled the air, and she couldn’t help but smile at the simple melody of the ranch coming to life.
“Look there,” Amy pointed to a cluster of wildflowers. “Those are Indian Paintbrushes. Aren’t they pretty?”
“Like paint on a canvas,” Ruby murmured, her fingers grazing the fiery red blooms.
Priscilla, not to be outdone, chimed in with a grin, “And those little ones are Bluebonnets, right?”
“No,” Amy said shaking her head. “Bluebonnets are only in bloom in March and April in this area.”
They continued along the path, Amy sharing tidbits about the local flora and fauna, while the girls absorbed every word. She was glad she’d taken time to read a book about gardening in Texas she’d found on the bookshelf in the parlor. The simplicity of their walk, the shared curiosity—it felt like a promise of good things to come.
“Wow,” Priscilla breathed out, eyes wide as saucers.
“Isn’t it something?” Amy said, her gaze sweeping over the view.
Ruby nodded silently, caught up in the grandeur of it all.
