He covered her hand with his, looking down at her. She remembered how he had kissed her hand, and her heart pounded as she looked down at the ground. Charles walked on, holding her hand in the crook of his arm. He led Rascal to a small creek so that he could drink, and he helped Rose back up into the buggy. He joined her, and they drank some tea from a jar and ate sandwiches. The bread crumbled a great deal, and they began to laugh, joking that the Chaddings would be finding breadcrumbs for years to come. They kept brushing at the crumbs and laughing. All too soon, they were heading back to Cutler’s Pass.
“I loved it, Charles,” she said, as their home came into view. “I loved it. Let’s go back there again soon.”
“You got it,” he said, looking pleased and proud. “Anytime. There’s another place I want to take you next though.”
“I can’t wait,” she said, closing her eyes, sighing.
She must have drifted off into a light sleep, because all of a sudden, it seemed, they were home and Charles was peering up at her from the ground. She took his hand as he helped her down, and she slowly walked into the house. Too sleepy to do anything but head straight for her bed, she was asleep again as soon as her head met the pillow.
When she woke, it was almost dark. She could hear the faint sounds of crickets just beginning their nighttime serenade. At first she was confused, then she realized she had slept far later than she had planned. She sat up and lit her kerosene lamp. There on her bedside table, beneath the lamp, was an envelope.
Dearest Rose,
I just looked in on you, fearing you may have felt unwell. I grew concerned that the journey may have taxed your strength. Perhaps the jostling motion of the buggy made you feel ill, as on the train. I fear that I should have waited another week before bringing you on a journey. I was selfish, perhaps, in wishing to share the redwoods with you.
Forgive me, but I tarried some, looking down at your face. The sun was just starting to get real low, so there was not a great deal of daylight left. But I could see your expression, and you looked so happily asleep, as though you were having a sweet dream. I admit I did not hurry away, but instead found it difficult to stop looking at you, and to leave your side.
Call to me if you need me and I will back at your side in an instant.
Your own loving husband,
Charles Smith
She covered her face with her hands. Overcome, she felt almost afraid of her response to the letter. The way she felt about Charles surprised her. She had not expected this kind of fearful joy. Traveling west, getting married to a virtual stranger: all of that had been such an adventure. This feeling of discovery, of falling, though, felt like an even greater adventure. She lifted her face and got up from the bed, straightening her dress. She had fallen asleep with her shoes on. Washing up and brushing her hair took but a moment and then she hurried outside.
After leaving the privy, she found Charles in the barn. He was grooming Rascal, unaware of her presence. She stood in the threshold for a moment, watching her husband. His expression was kind and focused as he brushed Rascal’s mane, carefully untangling any snags. Again, she was struck by Charles’ large size, and powerfully strong arms and shoulders, contrasted with his gentleness.
“Well, howdy,” he said, seeing her. His eyes brightened and he smiled slowly. “Thought you had turned in for the night.”
“No,” she said shyly, coming to stand by Rascal, who reached his head toward her. She stroked his long face as he snuffled against her cheek and neck.
“Being a bit forward, Rascal,” complained Charles. He stood, looking at her, the brush held forgotten in his hand. “You feeling all right, Rose? You didn’t get sick, did you?”
“No,” she said sincerely. “I felt wonderfully well all day. It’s a bother how I need to sleep so much more than I ever
“I loved it, Charles,” she said, as their home came into view. “I loved it. Let’s go back there again soon.”
“You got it,” he said, looking pleased and proud. “Anytime. There’s another place I want to take you next though.”
“I can’t wait,” she said, closing her eyes, sighing.
She must have drifted off into a light sleep, because all of a sudden, it seemed, they were home and Charles was peering up at her from the ground. She took his hand as he helped her down, and she slowly walked into the house. Too sleepy to do anything but head straight for her bed, she was asleep again as soon as her head met the pillow.
When she woke, it was almost dark. She could hear the faint sounds of crickets just beginning their nighttime serenade. At first she was confused, then she realized she had slept far later than she had planned. She sat up and lit her kerosene lamp. There on her bedside table, beneath the lamp, was an envelope.
Dearest Rose,
I just looked in on you, fearing you may have felt unwell. I grew concerned that the journey may have taxed your strength. Perhaps the jostling motion of the buggy made you feel ill, as on the train. I fear that I should have waited another week before bringing you on a journey. I was selfish, perhaps, in wishing to share the redwoods with you.
Forgive me, but I tarried some, looking down at your face. The sun was just starting to get real low, so there was not a great deal of daylight left. But I could see your expression, and you looked so happily asleep, as though you were having a sweet dream. I admit I did not hurry away, but instead found it difficult to stop looking at you, and to leave your side.
Call to me if you need me and I will back at your side in an instant.
Your own loving husband,
Charles Smith
She covered her face with her hands. Overcome, she felt almost afraid of her response to the letter. The way she felt about Charles surprised her. She had not expected this kind of fearful joy. Traveling west, getting married to a virtual stranger: all of that had been such an adventure. This feeling of discovery, of falling, though, felt like an even greater adventure. She lifted her face and got up from the bed, straightening her dress. She had fallen asleep with her shoes on. Washing up and brushing her hair took but a moment and then she hurried outside.
After leaving the privy, she found Charles in the barn. He was grooming Rascal, unaware of her presence. She stood in the threshold for a moment, watching her husband. His expression was kind and focused as he brushed Rascal’s mane, carefully untangling any snags. Again, she was struck by Charles’ large size, and powerfully strong arms and shoulders, contrasted with his gentleness.
“Well, howdy,” he said, seeing her. His eyes brightened and he smiled slowly. “Thought you had turned in for the night.”
“No,” she said shyly, coming to stand by Rascal, who reached his head toward her. She stroked his long face as he snuffled against her cheek and neck.
“Being a bit forward, Rascal,” complained Charles. He stood, looking at her, the brush held forgotten in his hand. “You feeling all right, Rose? You didn’t get sick, did you?”
“No,” she said sincerely. “I felt wonderfully well all day. It’s a bother how I need to sleep so much more than I ever
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