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had slid the bolt.’ She lowered her voice. ‘You know, for privacy…with my father sleeping next door…’
    Carl turned to her and raked both hands through his hair. He knew his eyes were wild, his lungs rasping like bellows, his face beaded with perspiration. ‘Never do that again,’ he warned her in a fierce growl. ‘Never lock the door. I can’t stand being trapped in a room.’
    His father-in-law hurried out of the smaller bedroom. He carried a lamp and lifted it high to shine the light on them. ‘What’s going on?’ Sam’s gaze shuttled between them before homing in on the splintered doorframe. He scurried over to the corner and picked up his rifle.
    ‘If you’ve hurt that girl…’
    Jade rushed over to halt him. ‘No, Pa.’
    ‘I’m sorry.’ Carl drew long, ragged breaths. ‘I don’t like locked doors.’
    ‘You didn’t hurt her?’
    ‘No.’ Carl shook his head as if to clear it. ‘I didn’t hurt her. Sorry. I need some air.’
    He whirled on his bare heels, pushed the front door open— thankfully, it was not locked—and hurried out to the porch. Bracing his hands on the railing, he leaned out and filled his lungs with the cool night air.
    No, I didn’t hurt her just now, he thought. But I sure did hurt her by marrying her .

Chapter Four
    Jade cranked the pump on the well. When the bucket was full, she lifted it down from the hook, struggling beneath the weight.
    A brawny, bronzed arm reached past her. ‘Let me take that.’
    She jumped, letting out a startled cry. Water sloshed over her denim pants. She pressed a hand to her chest. ‘You scared me. How can you move so quietly?’
    Carl headed toward the house. ‘You’re half Indian. Can’t you move silently?’
    ‘No. I scare birds from the trees and mice from their nests.’
    Shirtless, her husband strode down the path, carrying the heavy pail as though it weighed nothing. Jade followed. She let her gaze linger on the scars that marred his back, relieved that he felt no need to hide them, that he could enjoy the sun on his skin.
    Dawn to dusk, Carl worked in the orchard. The barn had a new roof and the sheds brimmed with chopped wood. Every drainage ditch had been cleared, every ailing tree pruned. Jade’s father, sickly from old age and overwork, had perked up, the chance to rest more effective as a cure than the most expensive medicines.
    Life could be good.
    If only it weren’t for the fear that soon he would leave.
    ‘Thank you,’ Jade told Carl when he lifted the pail up to the porch.
    ‘Call me if you need more. I don’t want you lifting heavy things.’
    ‘I’m not…’ Her voice fell. ‘I’m not pregnant.’ A blush rose up her neck and fanned over her cheeks. Her monthly flow had started in the morning. She couldn’t deny the fierce sense of relief that filled her at the thought he would have to stay. At least another month.
    He nodded. ‘We’ll try again.’
    ‘Fine.’ Her throat went dry.
    She didn’t understand what was going on between them, and she could not find a way to ask. The first night after their wedding, Carl had made love to her. Fierce, possessive love, love that had driven her to dizzy heights of delight. Then he seemed to have tired of her.
    Had he really just been doing his duty?
    Had he only been trying to give her a child?
    ‘Jade?’ she heard his deep voice call out from the yard. ‘Can you bring me the small pouch of tools in my saddlebags?’
    ‘Sure. Just let me find it.’ She hurried inside, lifted the pair of leather satchels from a peg on the wall and slung them on the scarred pine table. Tin plate, cup, spoon. Two boxes of rifle cartridges, one for the Colt revolver. Two books. A small leather pouch that rattled when she picked it up.
    She took the tools out to him. Back inside the cabin she inspected the books, hoping for something new to read. Bible. They already had one. Uncle Tom’s Cabin . She’d read that at school. As she put away the Bible, a sheaf of folded