They were simple enough. A home, children, books, the usual things a woman is supposed to want. Her laugh held no humor. I suppose I'll still have most of that, just not in the way I imagined. Life rarely follows the path we set out for it, Yates observed, handing her a tin cup of coffee.
My ma used to say that the good Lord has a sense of humor about our plans. Your mother sounds like she was a wise woman. The wisest, he agreed with a fond smile. She'd have liked you, I think. The compliment, simple as it was, brought a flush to Delilah's cheeks that she blamed on the fire's warmth.
As the night deepened around them, they gradually shared more of themselves small details. Nothing too revealing, but enough that by the time they retired to their separate sleeping arrangements, Delilah in the wagon, Yates on the ground nearby, they felt less like strangers thrown together by circumstance, and more like tentative allies facing an uncertain future. The journey continued for three more days, each one bringing them deeper into the wild country west of Dallas. The terrain grew more rugged, the settlements fewer and farther between. Delilah found herself studying Yates as they traveled, the confident way he handled the team of horses, the respectful manner in which he interacted with people they met along the way, the quiet competence that seemed to define him.
By the fourth day, when Yates announced they were approaching his land, Delilah felt a curious mixture of apprehension and anticipation. What kind of life awaited her in this remote place with a man she was still getting to know. There it is, Yates said as they crested a rise in the late afternoon. He drew the wagon to a halt, giving Delilah her first view of what would be her new home. Below them stretched a valley, verdant despite the late summer heat, with a clear creek winding through it like a silver ribbon.
A stand of oak trees provided natural shelter on one side, while open grassland rolled toward distant hills on the other. In the center, near the creek, stood a small cabin little more than a one room structure with a stone chimney. "It's not much," Yates said, watching her reaction carefully. But it's solid. The previous owner built it before deciding the life was too hard and selling out.
With some work, we can expand it before winter sets in. Delilah took in the scene before her, trying to imagine making a life here. It was beautiful in its wild way, far from the judging eyes of society. Yet the isolation of it struck her forcefully. "The nearest town?" she asked quietly.
Settlement called Clearwater about 10 mi east, Yates replied. Small but growing. Has the basics general store blacksmith. They're putting up a schoolhouse this fall. As they descended into the valley, Delilah noticed signs of preparation, stacks of lumber near the cabin, a small corral already built, even the beginnings of what looked to be a garden plot.
Yates had clearly been working on this place for some time before returning to Dallas. "You've been busy," she observed. He nodded a hint of pride in his expression. "Came out here a few times over the past months whenever I could get away from the ranch I was working. Wanted to have at least the basics ready." When they finally pulled up to the cabin, Delilah was surprised to find it more hospitable than it had appeared from a distance.