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It was midafternoon and Georgia had gone into town for a Saturday meeting with the library committee. The men were out stringing fence. Emma had heard more talk last night as they’d tried to decide how to set a trap for the cattle rustlers.
About a half hour ago, Emma had put the baby down for her nap then swept and dusted the rooms upstairs. Now she surveyed the freshly scrubbed kitchen floor and fanned herself with one hand. Perspiration trickled between her breasts and down her spine, and she plucked the light cotton dress away from her skin. Pushing back the hair that had come loose from her braid, she undid the top two buttons on her bodice.
Since it appeared she wasn’t ever going to be able to talk to Jake alone, she would write him a thank-you note. She walked across the room to the big oak desk that sat in a space off the living area. A quill pen and ink well rested on the far corner, but Emma saw no paper.
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