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mean." She groaned inwardly. What a ridiculous thing to say. Evidently, she was more exhausted than she had thought. "Good night."
    "Good night."
    She followed Matthew outside to the wagon and was greatly relieved when Mr. Tyler made no attempt to follow.
    Without thinking, she slammed the door shut and grimaced. How much of the ceiling was dislodged this time she had no idea. Furthermore, she had no intention of finding out.
     
    Chapter 4
     
    It was pitch-dark outside, and although Maddie was having a difficult time gaining her night vision, Matthew seemed to have no problem finding the wagon. The boy might not be able to speak but, apparently, he had the keen night eyes of a cat.
    The wind had died down completely, and the smell of fire was barely noticeable.
    Rutabaga gave a soft neigh as they approached. "Thank you, Matthew. I can handle the rest." She took the bedroll from him and flung it over the sides of the wagon.
    She would have welcomed the boy's company, but no sooner had he handed her the bedroll than he unharnessed her horse and led it away.
    With a nervous glance around her, she placed one foot on the wagon wheel and heaved herself over the side. Unable to see a thing, she depended on touch alone to locate the bedroll and spread it out.
    What a relief it was to free her feet from the confines of her lace-up boots. She wiggled her stockinged toes and placed the boots to the side. She felt in her trunk for her linen nightgown and shook it out.
    In no time at all, she was undressed and ready for bed. She longed to brush her teeth, but it was so dark, she didn't dare trek to the water barrel.
    She climbed between the quilted folds of the bedroll and focused upon the only star bright enough to shine through the layers of dusty night air.
    The howl of coyotes sounded in the distance.
    Sleep was a long time in coming. Her imagination tended to be active under normal circumstances, but never had it asserted such vivid control over her thoughts as it did during those next few hours.
    The least sound convinced her that Indians were hiding in the shadows, ready to attack her person and to claim her scalp as a prize.
    Her only comfort was the dull light shining from the window of the soddy. She felt a sense of loss when at last the light flickered out and its comforting glow was replaced with a thick black voice.
    She'd never felt so lonely in her life.
    After turning off the gas lantern, Luke slipped into bed next to his sleeping son.
    Normally he had no trouble sleeping. His work in the fields was grueling. That, along with his household duties and his parental responsibilities, required him to exert his full physical and mental capabilities on a daily basis. He usually fell asleep the instant his head hit the pillow.
    Not tonight. Tonight he found himself staring at the dark ceiling, thinking about his unexpected guest.
    He tried to think of a word to describe her, but none came readily to mind. She was taller than a woman had a right to be and as slender as a sapling. Her face was neither pretty nor plain. Appealing, though. Definitely appealing. And her hair…what a glorious head of hair she had. Vibrant red in color, it was almost identical to bird's-eye maple wood when it was polished to it's highest sheen.
    He wondered what she'd say if she knew he had likened her hair to a tree. She'd be insulted, no doubt, but he meant no harm by it. It was a compliment, actually. He'd been a woodworker before he became a farmer, and he felt an abiding affection for trees. The longer he lived on this wasted prairie, the more he missed the lush green woods of upstate New York , where he was born and raised. It was the only thing he missed about the place.
    He should have insisted that she sleep inside. At the very least, he could have offered her the barn. As soon as that idea occurred to him, he realized why he had not thought to let her sleep in the barn.
    The barn was a part of the past. He'd managed, somehow, to put the sod