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laughing. She smoothed her bunched skirts with only one hand while
     glancing at Everett’s stony face. Why was the man she’d come to wed the only person
     who refused to look in her direction?
    They hit a rut, and she grabbed for her hat as she bounced off the seat. Everett’s
     arm shot around her side and pulled her back beside him. His touch left an icy hot
     imprint about her waist. She slid to the opposite side of the bench seat. She didn’t
     want to feel anything like that again.
    “Yah!” he shouted at the oxen without giving her the slightest glance. He kept his
     gaze trained forward. She waited for him to talk first, but his jaw stayed rigid.
     Maybe he’d talkafter they’d gone a distance. She tried to calm herself by watching the tall green
     grasses wave in the forceful wind, rippling this way and that, chasing each other
     to the lines of trees scattered in the distance. The tremors in her chest settled
     with the swaying of the seat as she picked imaginary lint from her skirt. More prairie
     disappeared behind them.
    She couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “So, Mr. Cline. Where’s your property?”
    He pointed ahead of them at a line of trees. “My land is adjacent to the Stantons,
     about an hour and a half southwest of Salt Flatts. The Stantons live to my east and
     the Parkers just to the south.”
    When he didn’t elaborate further, she examined his face. His lips, though hard-pressed,
     kept moving around, like words wanted to come out but wouldn’t. Silent tension, hard
     as a block of ice and about as movable as the man beside her, filled more time than
     she could bear. She didn’t want to start rattling off about herself since he didn’t
     seem at all interested.
    She watched the oxen and Everett’s movements, waiting in vain for him to talk again.
     More quiet minutes ticked by. She had to make him talk. She didn’t know how long the
     Stantons’ hospitality would last, but she couldn’t waste several days in silence with
     the man. In fact, she wasn’t sure she could handle another hour of it now. “What do
     you use your land for?”
    “I’ve several acres of grain and corn. Looking to get more cattle once I get more
     hedgerow readied. Have a dairy cow and her heifer at the moment.” After another period
     of silence, he said, “I do a lot of hunting on the property.”
    “Will you teach me to drive the oxen?”
    Everett’s head snapped her way. “I suppose you could learn.”
    She smiled. Looked like he did want a worker. “When do I get to see your place?”
    “Soon, I suppose. I’m having several neighbors over in a few days. They’re going to
     help me put up a barn.”
    “That’s nice.”
    He flicked the reins and glanced at her dress. “I’m sure our get-togethers can’t compare
     to anything you’re used to back in Boston, but they’re fun nonetheless.”
    “I’m sure it will be exciting.” When they abruptly dipped into a wheel rut, her grip
     on the seat slid, and she gained a splinter. Thankfully, her gloves kept it from lodging
     deep into her skin. “I know this isn’t the city.”
    “No, it’s not. It’s a rough life and requires hard work.”
    “I can work.”
    He eyed her, and she shot him her most winning smile. Pulling his collar away from
     his neck, he looked her straight in the eyes. “I’m sure you can do whatever you set
     your mind to, but I have to warn you, it’s not easy.” He glanced at her from under
     his heavy eyelashes. “I’m sure you had servants or cooks or some manner of paid help
     back in Boston, but I haven’t the money. The women here have to do everything from
     mending to cooking to cleaning to farm chores. Sometimes, with big projects like a
     barn, neighbors pitch in, but homesteading is all about self-sufficiency because everyone
     needs to survive. And if you don’t sow enough, harvest enough, can enough, stockpile
     enough . . . you may not.
    “You may not like that. And that’s—”