that he was capable of walking. He glowered at them both, then resigned himself to sitting silent as Ned planed down the rough logs, then set in the frame for the window glass.
At his request, Kate brought in more kerosene lamps to counterbalance the full dark. The room was cold and she shivered until he went into his room, found an old sweater of his and draped it around her shoulders.
“I’ll fit in the glass now, and glaze and putty it tomorrow,” he said.
It took little time, which was good, since Pa had started to fade. He offered no objection to being carried back to Katie’s bedroom.
Ned went back to his father’s room, where Katie was wiping more sawdust off the new window ledge.
“Looks good,” she told him. “He’ll see the trees and that little rise with sagebrush.”
“Maine and Massachusetts are prettier, aren’t they?”
“Different, but maybe not prettier,” she said, and he admired her diplomacy.
“Tell me something, Katie. Would you marry a rancher around here?”
She gave it more thought than he believed the matter needed. But that was Katie. She thought things through.
“I guess not,” he said, which made her laugh, something she didn’t do too often, so it charmed him.
“I haven’t decided!” she said in humorous protest. “P’raps if I was raised here I might be tempted.”
“I mean, you were going to marry...uh...”
“Saul Coffin,” she supplied.
“And he came out here.” He stopped, noting her dismay. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reminded you of Mr. Coffin.”
“That’s not it,” she said.
“What is it?” Good God, Ned thought. I am turning into a nosey person.
“I have to be honest. Some days I’m sorry he’s gone, and other days, I wonder if he is alive.”
“The sheriff in Cheyenne knows where I live, Katie. If he’s alive, we’ll hear.”
She shook out the sawdust onto the floor and started to sweep, then stopped, giving him the clear-eyed look of a realist. “I could live here in Wyoming.” She sighed. “Saul thought he could, too. You should have heard him talk about Wyoming.”
“Like it was the Garden of Eden?”
“Sort of,” she agreed. “It’s not, but I still like it.” She leaned the broom against the wall. “That’s it, Ned. You’ll meet a nice lady at the dance.”
He wondered just how much store to put into one holiday dance at the Odd Fellows Hall. “Better teach me to waltz, Katie. This could be a long ordeal.”
Since Katie had forgotten all about purchasing material for curtains in the excitement of Pete’s job, the next day Ned had found a length of blue-and-white gingham, in a box of Ma’s old things in the barn. No one had sewn anything since Ma, so he had to help her look for the flatirons, once she had cut and hemmed and trimmed the curtains and declared they had to be ironed.
He had no trouble finding the time to help Katie search for the flatirons because she was starting to interest him. He wanted to ask her if she ever wasted a motion or even an hour, but he thought he already knew the answer.
“I vow everything is in this odd little room,” she said, as they both squeezed themselves into the storeroom off the stalls.
He heard her exclamation of delight when she found a copy of A Tale of Two Cities on a shelf with liniment bottles, a gallon or two of vinegar and unidentifiable bits and pieces of ranch life. “I wondered where that book went,” he said.
Katie’s search for flatirons stopped with the discovery of something new to read, now that she had finished Roughing It, and Pa was getting tired of her Ladies’ Home Journal stories. Hardly aware of Ned, she took the book into the kitchen and sat down at the table, where she carefully wiped away the dust. He sat down next to her with the flatirons and held them out. He clapped them together and made her laugh.
She set down the book with some reluctance, and nodded at the flatirons. In another minute, she had them warming on the stove. Back he went to the storeroom for the ironing board.
“When I iron these, we can string them on that dowel, and your Pa will have curtains,” she said. “Since I have this ironing board up, I can press a white shirt for the dance.”
“We have to go to that much trouble? I’ll be wearing a vest. Who’ll see my shirt?” he asked.
“Who will ever marry you if you don’t look presentable?” she asked. “And please tell me you have a collar and cravat somewhere.”
While she ironed, he found a pathetic collar and a cravat in even worse shape. She frowned at the collar, but she shook her head at the cravat. “I’ll make you one,” she told him.
“Out of what?”
“I have some fabric,” she said. He knew he heard something wistful in her voice, and thought perhaps he shouldn’t ask.
When she finished ironing, they each took a panel of fabric to Pa’s room and strung them on a dowel Ned had cut and sanded. Katie clapped her hands in approval and Pa smiled from his bed.
Katie had crocheted ties to hold back the fabric, giving the curtains a certain elegance he never thought to see in their jury-rigged, add-on-as-needed cabin. Ma, you would have liked this, he thought, then smiled at Katie who held her hands together in delight. You’d have liked Katie, too.
“After you find me a shirt, sit with your father,” she said.
He did as she asked, then perched on the edge of his father’s bed.
“You have a view,” he said. “Look there.”
He had seen cows all his life, but there was something nice about looking at them through a window. Here they were now, just nosing in what little snow there was, searching for nourishing grass that made this hard land cow country.
Pa patted the spot beside him on the bed. He pulled out the extra pillow behind his head, doubled over his own, and left a place for Ned beside him.
Ned tugged off his boots and did as his father asked, wondering when he had become too busy to do this. Never mind. He sprawled out beside his father, savoring the moment.
“You built a good ranch, Pa,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.”
Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Tears came into Pa’s eyes.
Ned started to apologize, but changed his mind when Pa took his hand and kissed the back of it. He felt the years slip away, and some of the cares. All that he lacked now was to see Ma come into the room, put her hands on her hips and in her soft drawl, declare
