Trail of Chances- Trail's End by Merry Farmer

Author:Merry Farmer [Farmer, Merry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-06-08T04:00:00+00:00

After the goodbye scene at the train, Josephine wasn’t certain if she should be sad or embarrassed or…or hopeful.

“Mrs. Fielding’s house is right down this way,” she told Pete, ignoring the way he walked close by her side, the way he held her arm…the way he had all but told their friends he wouldn’t marry her. Who could doubt that’s what he meant when he said he would look for work in California while she went to Denver City?

Of course, she half agreed with his reasons for going their separate ways. Half . But he didn’t have to go saying it in front of everyone. That made things so…so…official. As though they were officially not official.

She huffed out a breath latent with confusion and frustration.

“What?” Pete stood straighter by her side. “Looks like a nice enough neighborhood to me.”

She glanced askance at him, trying to judge if he was deflecting her burst of emotion or if he really thought her huff was for the neighborhood they found themselves in. His expression was neutral. Too neutral.

Well, there was no point trying to untie the Gordian knot they’d wrapped themselves into.

“It looks like a lovely, quaint neighborhood,” she said, glancing around. “Quiet.”

Indeed, the houses in this part of town looked newer, well cared for. The whitewash was nearly spotless, and the gardens out front were tidy and colorful. They were close enough to the river to see a few barges and other small crafts passing down the waterway, drifting on to the seaports several miles on.

“This must be a convenient spot for trade,” Josephine went on when Pete failed to add any sort of comment. “What with the way the river flows.”

“Hmm,” Pete grunted.

“And look, there goes a barge filled with logs. I bet whichever river this is runs clear up into some fine forest country.”

“Willamette,” Pete said.

“What?”

He rolled his shoulders as if she’d forced him into an audience with the queen in his skivvies and repeated, “Willamette. It’s the Willamette River. The one on the other side is the Columbia.”

Josephine stared at him. And stared. That was it?

“Mrs. Fielding must be prosperous,” she went on, baffled by his cryptic behavior. “I was impressed by her house when I came by to make an appointment for a tour yesterday. Well, the outside at least. I am willing to wager that the inside is just as nice.”

“Hmm,” Pete grunted.

Men . Was it so difficult for them to put two words together to carry on a conversation?

They reached the front door of Mrs. Fielding’s house, and Josephine let go of Pete’s arm long enough to step up and knock. As they waited, Josephine glanced around. Mrs. Fielding’s house was in a sort of cove, a cluster of houses close to the river. Five other houses of the same build stood nearby, each one carefully whitewashed. There was something careful about all of the houses, something…planned. And yet, to the untrained eye, the cove appeared to be prosperous and peaceful.

The only other person in sight

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