but she’d grown to see she didn’t need a man to take care of her. She could take care of herself. It had become her dream and that dream was about to be realized.
“You’re mighty determined.” Roper’s chuckle sounded a tiny bit regretful. He hoisted the tent and a couple of bags from the wagon and headed for the little patch of land Cassie had persuaded Mr. Macpherson to sell her. He’d been reluctant about selling to a woman but she pointed out she was the head of her household—although she refrained from mentioning it was a household of one—and a widow, which entitled her to file on a homestead.
“Guess if the government would allow me to own one hundred and sixty acres for a homestead, I can buy a small lot.” Her words had persuaded him, and no one else had raised an objection.
Roper set her things on the ground and leaned back on his heels. “Cassie, this doesn’t seem like a good idea to me. Why not come back to the ranch?” His grin did nothing to erase the disapproval in his eyes.
She planted her feet on her own piece of land and sighed. “I realize you’re only wanting to help but believe me this is exactly where I want to be and what I want to do.” She turned full circle, mentally measuring the boundaries of her lot. It lay behind Macpherson’s store, close enough that she could supply the bread for his store, once she had a stove, as part payment for the lumber for her house. Yet it was far enough to be out of sight of the freight wagons, stagecoaches and riders passing the store.
Roper followed her visual inspection until they’d both gone full circle and ended looking at each other. He was a pleasant enough man with a ready smile tipped a little crookedly at the moment. Stocky built, solid even. A good head of brown hair mostly hidden under his cowboy hat. A square face. His hazel eyes were always full of kindness and hope, though she’d gone out of her way to make it clear he need not pin any hope on her.
“Why must you insist on this foolishness?” He swung about to indicate the vast open prairies, the rolling foothills, the bold Rocky Mountains. “Ain’t nothing but nothing out here. A few cows. A few cowboys. A store. A settler or two.”
Her gaze took in the wide land and for a moment rested on the mountaintops that seemed to poke the blue sky. As always they made her feel stronger, and she brought her mind back to Roper’s concern. “And Mr. Macpherson,” she added, “just a holler away.”
“Who’s to protect you from wild animals? Either the four-legged or two-legged kind?”
“Indeed. And who has protected me in the past? Sure wasn’t my dead husband.” She’d been so afraid sleeping in the railway station. “Nor my dead father. Certainly not my still-living grandfather.” She made a grating sound of disbelief.
“Must be the good Lord ’cause it sure ain’t your good sense.”
“Think what you will.” She turned away to examine the stack of belongings. “Thanks for bringing me to town and unloading my stuff.”
“You’re telling me to leave?”
“Don’t recall saying so but shouldn’t you get back to the ranch?”
“You’re bound and determined to do this?”
She faced him squarely. She would reveal no flicker of doubt. “I’m bound and determined.”
“Nothing I say will convince you to reconsider?”
“Figure you about said it all and still I’m here.”
But he didn’t move and she avoided looking at him. He’d already made his opinion clear as spring water. As had Linette and Eddie.
“It goes against my better judgment to leave you here alone.”
“This is something I have to do.” She didn’t bother explaining her reasons, afraid they would look foolish to anyone else. But she was through feeling indebted to someone for her care.
He pressed his hand to hers. “Cassie, at least let me help you set up some kind of camp.”
The weight of his hand, the warmth of his palm, the way he curled his fingers around hers made her realize how much she would miss him. But when he reached for the tent, she grabbed his arm to stop him. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” Even though she had pointedly ignored him all winter it was comforting in some strange, unexplainable way to know he was there, on the periphery of her world.
But she would not depend on anyone. She’d long ago learned the cost of doing so. She had to make her own security. She fussed with the ropes around the rolled-up canvas tent. “I plan to manage on my own.”
He edged past her, shuffled toward the wagon, never taking his eyes from her.
She did her best to keep her attention on the pile of belongings at her feet but couldn’t keep from glancing his way when the wagon creaked as he stepped up.
He sighed loud enough to make the horse prick up its ears. “Look, it ain’t like I’m asking to be your partner or anything like that.” He grinned as if to inform her he considered the idea plumb foolish. “Just want to make sure you’re going to be okay.”
“I’m going to be just fine.” She lifted her hand in farewell.
With a shake of his head, he drove away.
She watched until the trail of dust hid the wagon. Only then did she turn and face her predicament. She had land of her own. A nice level bit of ground with trees surrounding it and the river a few steps away.
She had plans to support herself, and a tent to provide temporary shelter. She had a pile of lumber that would become her home.
There was only one small hitch.
She had no notion of how to transform that pile of lumber into a house.
First things first. She would erect the tent and prepare camp.
Three hours later, she had managed to sort out the ropes and stakes for the tent and put it up. Sure it sagged like a weary old man but it was up. She’d unrolled her bedding along one side and slipped her derringer under her pillow. Whatever Roper thought of her she wasn’t foolish enough to be unprepared.
Macpherson had provided a saw, hammer and nails with the lumber. She carried them to the pile of lumber and stared helplessly. She had no idea how to begin.
God, I know there must be a way to do this. Surely you can help me.
But she heard no voice from the clouds, nor did she feel a sudden burst of inspiration. As usual she’d have to figure it out on her own.
* * *
Roper muttered to himself as he headed toward the ranch. Stupid woman. If he didn’t know better he would think she was crazy in the head. But he’d watched her all winter, seeing the pain and defiance behind her brown eyes and wanting to erase it.
From the beginning Cassie had been as prickly as a cactus. Over the winter she’d mellowed. Her black hair had gone from dull and stringy to glistening and full. Morose, even sour, at the start, she’d started to laugh more often.
He shook his head and grunted. But she’d changed in other ways, too. She’d grown downright
