‘‘I meant what I said about giving you the house.’’ She broke the silence.

‘‘I know you did,’’ he answered. His words were low, but his mood had turned dark.

Kora took a chance; it was time to learn about the demons in this man’s past. ‘‘What are you thinking?’’ It was a very personal thing to ask, and she regretted her curiosity.

Win’s eyes never left the horizon. ‘‘I was thinking, if trouble comes and I’m not here, run for the apple trees. You could hide there.’’

Kora watched him closely. ‘‘Do you always think of escape routes?’’

‘‘Just remember,’’ he answered in a tone that ended the discussion. ‘‘I’ll find you in the trees.’’

When she reached the top of the back porch steps, Kora turned, realizing Winter was no longer following her.

He stood in the dirt, his feet wide apart, his hand resting lightly on his Colt. ‘‘I’ve got things to do. It would be useless to go back to sleep now. You rest. I’ll be back by sundown.’’

Kora nodded, noticing how tired he looked for a man who thought sleep useless. They were doing it again, tiptoeing around each other as strangers do. Talking without talking.

‘‘Would you like me to make a pot of coffee to keep us both awake?’’ Kora grasped for something to say that sounded right. ‘‘I don’t think I can sleep any longer, either.’’

‘‘I’d appreciate that,’’ he said as he turned toward the barn. ‘‘I’ll come back for a cup after I saddle up.’’

Winter didn’t glance over his shoulder as he heard the back door open. Hurrying across the yard and into the barn, he saddled his horse in record time. He told himself he wasn’t in a hurry to get back to her. He cared nothing for the woman. He told himself no one would ever mean anything to him. Especially not someone who didn’t hold on to something that she’d been given. She’d offered to give the house back like it was nothing of importance to her. He’d made a fool of himself by mentioning that her touch affected him. Yet, he’d told her where to run if there was trouble. He hadn’t thought of an escape plan since he’d lost his family twenty years ago.

Logan asked if he’d be riding out soon and Winter snapped at the man. He guessed the boys were watching his movements from the bunkhouse kitchen, but he didn’t care. None of them would put his job on the line by saying a word. By the time Winter reached the porch once more, he was almost running.

When he stepped into the kitchen, she turned as though startled to see him. She looked so tiny. Like she’d snap in two if he held her tight. How could he have married a woman who didn’t even reach his shoulder? Mary Anna had been only a few inches shorter than him. Maybe that was why he’d always asked her to dance at the socials. Realizing he’d married a woman he probably would have never asked to dance bothered Winter. After all, marriage should take a little more thought than a reel. Only in his case, it hadn’t seemed to.

‘‘Coffee ready?’’ he asked in almost a yell.

‘‘Yes,’’ she said so softly he guessed he’d frightened her again.

Hell, he thought, she’s going to spend the next six months jumping every time I’m in the room.

They sat down across the kitchen table from each other with a pot and two mugs between them.

‘‘I forgot to ask you how you like your coffee,’’ she said as she poured.

‘‘Strong,’’ he answered, watching her closely. This is marriage, he thought. If she decided to stay, this was how it was going to be every morning for the rest of their lives, and already he couldn’t think of anything to say. It might prove a long, long lifetime. He tried to think of the kind of things he talked about with the saloon girls in town, or the mercantile owner’s wife, or even Mary Anna after he’d asked her to dance. Nothing he could think of sounded right.

Letting the first few swallows burn his throat, Winter decided he’d probably have little use for speech from now on. Kora seemed as quiet as her sister was chatty. He couldn’t imagine how two women from the same parentage could be so different. Jamie looked as if she’d never worn a dress, and he guessed Kora was always a lady.

Finally she broke the silence. ‘‘I like a little sugar in mine.’’

For a second her words made no sense, for he’d forgotten all about the coffee. She was trying to help make it easier, he guessed. The least he could do was try also. ‘‘In a china cup?’’

Kora smiled. ‘‘No, I’ve always like the feel of a mug in my hands. That way the coffee warms my fingers.’’ She stared down at the cup.

That’s it, he thought. That’s as far as the conversation will go. What else could he say? They might be married, but he didn’t feel he knew her well enough to comment on her hands now hugging the cup, or ask her why she’d touched him last night. Or why she’d chosen to sleep in the attic on the floor and not in one of the beds downstairs. Or why she was already dressed this morning. Shouldn’t she have been in her nightclothes? He wasn’t about to inquire.

Hell, he swore again to himself, I could spend a lifetime thinking about what not to talk about with this woman.

‘‘I have to ride out to the south pasture this morning,’’ he said between sips. ‘‘I’d invite you to come along, but it’s not as safe as usual.’’

‘‘I don’t ride,’’ she answered.

‘‘Never?’’ Winter couldn’t imagine a woman never riding. Being able to handle a horse was a part of life, like walking, or breathing, or swimming.

‘‘I never learned.’’ She smiled suddenly. ‘‘Maybe you should have asked me that last night before you married me.’’

Winter frowned. ‘‘Most definitely. I might have changed my mind. A rancher’s wife who doesn’t ride, now that’s something to consider. I’ve never heard of that.’’ Even Miss Allie could ride when she was in her sixties.

Kora laughed suddenly. ‘‘You’re kidding!’’

‘‘Of course.’’ He liked the way she laughed. ‘‘Whether you ride or don’t is up to you.’’

‘‘If you’ll wait until I get the house in order, I could get Jamie to teach me. I’ve always been afraid of horses, but if you’ve got a gentle one, I’ll try.’’

‘‘No.’’ He stood and downed the last of his coffee. ‘‘I’ll teach you to ride. I wouldn’t trust that sister of yours to be safe.’’

She followed him to the door. Before he could reach for his hat, Kora lifted it from the peg and handed it to him. She was doing it again, he thought, playing the part of a wife as though she’d read a book on what to do.

‘‘If there’s trouble, I may be late.’’ He wished he could think of something else to say. There were a thousand things he didn’t know about her. Like where she came from and how her parents died. How did she get the ribbon of calluses on her palms?

‘‘I’ll wait up.’’

‘‘It isn’t necessary.’’

Nodding, she didn’t look up at him. He had the urge to ask her to let her hair down again like it had been last night, but it seemed a very personal thing to request of a woman. She might be a mouse afraid to talk to him, but her hair was magic, all shiny white gold.

Winter didn’t want to leave. Maybe if they spent some time together, they’d finally stop being as jumpy as spring colts around each other. ‘‘Kora?’’ He tried to say her name without sounding like he was snapping an order, but his voice had rusted from lack of conversation.

‘‘Yes?’’ She raised her gaze.

He saw it then, the fear he’d seen before. Here they were standing in the kitchen in broad daylight, and she was looking at him as if he might try to murder her at any moment. Without thinking, he said the only thing that came to his mind. ‘‘Are you sorry?’’

‘‘For what?’’

‘‘For marrying me,’’ he answered. She was the one who’d come into this marriage with nothing. The marriage had made her a wealthy woman, for even if she left, he planned to offer her far more than train tickets. But he was the one who felt like the beggar. He’d taken advantage of her impoverished situation. He knew the moment he’d seen what little she had in that hole she called a home that she’d have to agree to marry him or face starvation.

‘‘No,’’ she answered. ‘‘I’m not sorry.’’

Winter dragged his fingers through his dark, straight hair and let out a long breath before lifting his hat. ‘‘Will you promise me if you ever are, you’ll tell me?’’

Kora tilted her head slightly. ‘‘I promise.’’

‘‘I’ll tell one of the men to have a wagon ready to take you into town. I’d like you to buy anything you need to settle in here. Anything. Just put it on my account.’’

‘‘All right.’’

‘‘And take Logan along with you. Until this trouble’s over, I’d feel safer if you had him along if you leave this area.’’

He wasn’t sure if she agreed or was too frightened to argue. ‘‘Try to get some rest today. Logan will see that the men move one of the beds up to the attic and anything else you want hauled up there.’’

She didn’t answer.

Winter opened the door, angry with himself for ordering her. The woman had no idea how desperate the men were to break the quarantine. A man who’d kill another man’s herd with the fever was just one step away from killing the man. Later, he’d try to make her understand that his ranch was in the dead center of the only logical crossing. Which made him, and now her, the most likely targets.

He walked out onto the porch, almost colliding with Cheyenne. ‘‘Shouldn’t you be asleep? We were up all night,’’ Winter growled at the Indian.

‘‘No.’’ Cheyenne didn’t bother to say the obvious. ‘‘ Logan says you’re saddled up. I thought I’d join you.’’

Checking his Colt, Winter lowered his voice. ‘‘I can almost smell trouble in the air.’’

Cheyenne glanced over Winter’s shoulder to make sure Kora wasn’t listening. ‘‘So can I. They’re coming. I can feel it beneath my boots.’’