Lorraine Heath by Sweet Lullaby Page A

home.”
    He carried her to the house, up onto the porch and through the threshold of the simple wooden structure, then set her down on the puncheon floor of flat cedar logs. The walls were built of twelve-inch, rough-hewn cedar logs, chinked with clay. The only door was made of heavy boards. It fastened with a latchstring.
    “It’s not much,” he said, waiting for her disappointment to show. It was far nicer than the building he had grown up in, but it was nowhere near as nice as the home in which she had been raised.
    Rebecca pivoted slowly on the balls of her feet, her eyes taking inventory and assessing each feature of the single room. The wall to the right of the door housed the stone fireplace. The wall across from it held the stove. To the back of the house was space for their bed. Because Rebecca liked the sun to visit inside as much as it did outside, each side of the house had two windows, protected by heavy wooden shutters that hung on handwrought hinges. She completed her circle, smiled up at Jake and slipped her arms around his neck.
    “I love it.”
    His eyes lowered to her lips. Yes, Jake, she thought. I want you to kiss me.
    Frank stuck his head in the door. “You want us to start hauling the furniture in before it gets too dark?”
    Sighing, Jake released her. “Now it’s your turn to work, Reb. Just tell them where you want everything.”
    It didn’t take long as they had brought only the barest of necessities. They set a sofa before the fireplace, a table and four chairs before the stove, and beside it a pine cupboard. A four-poster bed was set in the corner in the back so one window looked down on it. A dresser and a mahogany wardrobe rested against the back wall. They would add more as time went by, but for now it was enough to get them through.
    When they were finished, they sat around the campfire and ate supper with the men, listening as Lee Hastings sang ballads in a deep resonant voice. The stocky man had beefy arms and curly black hair touching his shoulders. When he stood, his short legs rounded out so he always looked as though he were still sitting upon a horse. He began to sing “The Cowboy’s Lament.” The song was Rebecca’s favorite. She snuggled back against Jake as his arms encircled her. When the last note was sung, the couple said good night and walked side by side back towards their house.
    Jake closed the door behind them and brought a plank of wood down against the door barring entrance. He set the lantern down on the table and smiled at his wife. It was the first time they had been alone since the night they had gotten married.
    Rebecca lifted her shoulders, spreading her arms out. “It’s our house.”
    Jake looked around, smiling at the towels she had hung over the windows. “Guess we need to get some curtains. Men don’t think of things like that.”
    “You seem to have thought of just about everything else.”
    “I tried. Are you tired?” “Yes, I am.”
    He went to the back of the house and brought out a hammer and some nails.
    “I thought we could tack up a quilt to give you a little more privacy.”
    “I’d like that.” She moved to a chest and took out a faded quilt. “This one should do.”
    Standing on a chair, Jake nailed it up. He stepped down, admiring his handiwork. It was crooked.
    “I’m not much of a carpenter.” “You built the house.”
    “With a lot of help.” He studied her standing there, her eyes as big as the moon. “Why don’t you get ready for bed?”
    She nodded, then slipped behind the quilt. After removing her clothes, she wiped her body with a damp rag and pulled her nightgown over her head. She was five months pregnant and she didn’t want Jake to see her body in its present state. The little mound of her belly seemed to be doubling in size every day. Another aspect of pregnancy that didn’t thrill her. Then she felt the flutter of butterfly wings inside her, and smiled, rubbing the small mound. She didn’t feel it