Free Whitefeather's Woman by Deborah Hale Page B

remember.
    Staring at the swath of taffeta in Ruth’s arms, Jane gnawed on her lower lip. How had Ruth guessed that this dress, the color of daffodils in warm spring sunshine, washer favorite of all the beautiful gowns in Marie Kincaid’s trunk?
    Not to mention the most impossible to wear outside the privacy of her bedroom.
    â€œDon’t you think it’s a bit too fancy just for dinner?”
    â€œWhere else are you going to wear it?” Ruth held the gown up in front of Jane and nodded her approval. “No matter what the sign outside Big Mike’s saloon says, Whitehorn doesn’t have a proper opera house like they’ve got in Denver. Caleb tells me Marie used to dress up like this all the time. I say it’s too pretty not to wear.”
    â€œDo you think it’ll be warm enough? The nights are still rather chilly and I’m prone to the cold.”
    â€œIt will leave your shoulders bare,” Ruth agreed.
    Though Jane didn’t dare admit it, that was what made this dress so unsuitable. The wounds Emery’s nails had gouged were finally healing, but they had left scars on her flesh that might never disappear. A physician would be sure to recognize what they represented. That she was a woman who’d merited a beating at the hands of a man she’d cared for.
    Just framing the notion in her mind left Jane nauseous with shame.
    â€œI’ve got it!” Ruth thrust the dress into Jane’s arms and charged up the stairs.
    She returned a moment later bearing a cream-colored shawl of the finest brushed wool. “This will keep you from catching cold. Just pull it around your shoulders if you feel a draft. Besides, catching cold will be in a good cause if you can catch a—”
    â€œCatch what?”
    â€œCatch…a chance…” sputtered Ruth, “to enjoy some fresh company. You must be getting so tired of seeingnobody but Caleb and me and the children. And John, of course.”
    Jane shook her head. “I could never get tired of any of you. You’ve all been so kind to me after I showed up here, out of the blue and by my own silly mistake. I love this place. It’s so solid and safe.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t have said that a few years back when the winters were so bad. Plenty of folks from the East think this country is full of danger. I’m not sure there’s anyplace a body’s safe from all harm. Even if there was, you might be bored to death.”
    â€œI’d take my chances.” Jane hoped her reply sounded lighthearted.
    Â 
    Matchmaking must be in the air, John decided ruefully, as he rode back to the ranch from Sweetgrass.
    He’d first suspected something was afoot when Walks on Ice had introduced him to a distant cousin who’d come to visit from her reservation farther north.
    â€œThis is Moon Raven. Her grannie is my cousin. She’s a good worker, like all the women in our family. Smart and respectful. Pretty, too, isn’t she, Night Horse?”
    John couldn’t deny it. The girl was attractive, with hair the color of her namesake bird and eyes the hue of ripe wild plums.
    â€œWelcome to Sweetgrass, Moon Raven. I hope you’ll have a good visit.”
    To Walks on Ice he asked, “How are the children? Have any more come down with the fever?”
    The old woman shook her head. “Not since Ruth put all the sick ones together, away from the rest. Two are still weak, but the others are better. Moon Raven was a great help to Ruth.”
    â€œI’m sure she was. Thank you, Moon Raven.”
    â€œYour sister is a skillful healer. I was honored to work with her and learn from her.”
    Walks on Ice beamed. “I like a girl with a mannerly tongue in her mouth. You can tell she’s been well brought up—no black robe schools to fill her head with foolishness. How old are you, Night Horse?”
    â€œHave you forgotten how to count, Auntie? Your hands brought me