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the blacksmith’s shop helping out, which was how he’d happened to meet Caroline. Her father had brought Dolly to the blacksmith to be reshod and he’d seen her dashing down the street to the mercantile to look at newly arrived bolts of fabric.
    The vision sitting next to him stole his breath. With his absence, she’d matured into a woman as striking as the Ozark views. He’d guessed at the strength of her spirit to bring her through the war, though he figured he’d never know its true measure. Knowing what she’d gone through with the war only made him love her more. He feared his wife had needed him more than his family or his country. Too late to change things now.
    She clung to the pouch she’d carried from the house, her fingers wrapped around it so tightly her knuckles were turning white. It jingled softly. Not coins but jewelry, he guessed, and wondered if the items were hers or her mother’s.
    A flash of frustration hit him. She was bringing jewelry because she didn’t think he’d have enough money for the things they needed. The length of her list bothered him. Yes, provisions were scarce all around, but this part of the country had been spared everything except some raiders. She had no reason to have cupboards as empty as she did unless it was the lack of ready cash that made it so. Though no one had much cash these days. He had what he did because he hadn’t sent it home, not trusting that it would arrive safely. He should have. He saw that now.
    “You can set that between us. I promise it’ll be safe.” He patted the wooden bench between them, hoping she’d close the space between them as much as her hoop skirt would allow.
    “It will be better if I hold it.” Her stiff manner hinted at that prickly pride of hers.
    “All right.” Travis listened to the discordant jangling coming from the pouch. It had to be jewelry. He couldn’t question her. Well, he could. He was her husband and by law he ruled the household. He’d just returned home. Right now, she knew far better than he what they’d need. He could, however, get her to speak about the farm. “You showed me the list of what we need. What else would make the farm run smoothly?”
    Caroline turned to stare across a vista of the Ozark Mountains. To his left, a small stream bubbled among the rocks. To his right, a few trees scrambled to find purchase on the rough ground. The terrain rose, merging into the tall hill they ascended, the peaks and valleys making it difficult to see beyond more than the next bend in the road. “Too much,” she said at last.
    “The plow probably needs sharpening. And I bet the harness needs mending.” Travis mentioned the things he knew his father had tended to on their farm. “We’re getting Dolly reshod in town.”
    Caroline gasped.
    “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll take care of things.” The blacksmith owed him a favor; he’d saved the blacksmith’s son during a battle. The young man had come home wounded too much to fight. With some nursing, he should’ve still been able to run the forge and bellows. “So tell me what we need.”
    She did, and the length of the list left him reeling. Though he’d guessed she had limited herself on the list for town, he had no idea she’d hidden so much. And he wondered why she hadn’t gotten some of the items sooner. It was almost as if she hadn’t come into town on purpose. He didn’t like the direction of his thoughts.
    “Thank you for telling me,” he said. “As your husband, I need to know these things so I can start to take care of them.”
    Caroline fisted her hand in her skirt, bracing the pouch beneath her wrists. “You can’t fix them, Travis. No one can. I doubt even the governor has the money to cover all the things we need. We’ll have to make do.”
    Transferring the reins into his left hand, he reached across the seat with his right. He patted the only part of her he could reach, her arm. “Why don’t you come over here and ride next to