marriage a lie, as well, and order her back to Pennsylvania?
And what of the children? What would they think if they ever learned the truth about her?
To calm her racing heart she reminded herself that she was thousands of miles away from anyone who had ever known her. Her past was dead and buried. She was now Mrs. Matthew Jamison Prescott. From now on, her life was whatever she chose to make it.
“We’d better rustle up some supper, Pa.” Aaron had long ago finished his candy and licked his fingers until there was no trace of the sticky sweetness left.
“I was just thinking the same thing.” Matt stubbed out his cigar after smoking only half, saving the other half for later. “We’ll stop over by that stream and see what we can find.”
He slowed the team to a walk and finally brought them to a halt in a clearing. “Get your rifle, Aaron,” he called as he climbed down.
Matt started to turn away, then, remembering his manners, extended a hand to help Izzy down.
The moment their hands touched, she felt a tingling along her spine that had her jumping. It wasn’t Matthew, she told herself as she struggled to calm her racing pulse. It was just the excitement of the day. She glanced at his face, to see if he had felt the jolt. But all she could see was his familiar frown. And those dark, penetrating eyes looking back at her.
“You and the children can gather wood and twigs for a fire. As soon as Aaron and I finish hunting, we’ll start supper.”
“Here?”
“You’re in the wilderness, Isabella. One place is as good as another.”
“Yes. Of course.” She turned away, eager to put some distance between them.
When he and his oldest son melted into the woods, Izzy and the others began searching for firewood. Before long they had enough for a bonfire.
“I wish Matthew had left us some matches,” Izzy muttered, drawing her shawl around her shoulders.
“We don’t need matches.” Benjamin took a flint from his pocket and huddled over the wood, which he’d layered with a patch of dried grass. In no time he had a tiny flame, which he soon coaxed into a blaze.
“Oh, Benjamin.” Izzy knelt in the grass and held her hands to the warmth. “That’s so clever of you.”
The boy beamed with pride. “It’s easy, once you know how.”
“I’ve never lived in the mountains before.” Izzy glanced at the three children, sprawled comfortably around the fire. “There’s so much I’ll need to learn.”
“We could teach you,” Del offered. The little girl glanced uncertainly at her brothers. “Couldn’t we?”
Clement nodded, intrigued by the thought of teaching an adult what he took for granted. “Pa says the only ones who can’t survive in the wilderness are fools who never learned to use their heads.”
Izzy gave a shaky laugh. “Then I certainly hope I learn to use mine before I lose it.” She glanced at the wagon. “All those sacks of supplies, and no way to cook them. I wish I could make some biscuits and coffee, but I don’t have anything to make them in.”
Benjamin grinned. “We don’t have any kettles. But we do keep an old pot in the wagon for emergencies. It’s under the flour sack. And I’ll bet if I look around I can find something for you to cook the biscuits on.”
Izzy walked to the wagon, returning with a handful of coffee beans and a battered old pot, which she filled with water from the stream. Soon the wonderful fragrance of coffee filled the evening air.
When Benjamin handed her a flat, round stone, she was puzzled, until he said, “This ought to work as well as any pan. Give it a try.”
Mixing flour and sugar with a little water, she pressed the batter around the flat stone and set it on the fire.
A short time later Matt and Aaron returned from the forest, balancing on their shoulders a young sapling on which was tied a deer. The weight of it would stagger most men, yet they handled it with ease.
“You’re going to cook the whole thing?” Izzy blanched, thinking about the half-cooked side of beef back at the cabin. She was ravenous. But she didn’t think it would be possible to choke down another bloody meal.
To her relief, Matt shook his head. “We’ll take it with us. But we can cut off enough to cook for a quick supper.”
He and Aaron unsheathed their knives and set to work, skinning the animal and slicing a portion for their use. Izzy and Del cut the meat into chunks and threaded them onto sticks, which they set over the flames to cook. Soon they all gathered around the fire.
After his first bite Matt looked up. “Benjamin, these are the best biscuits you’ve ever made.”
“I didn’t make them, Pa. Isabella did.”
He turned to her. “What did you do to them?”
At his probing look, Izzy flushed clear to her toes. “Nothing special. I just used what I had. Sugar and flour and water. They would be better with a little lard. But it was Benjamin who found the stone to bake them on. Without that, we’d have been eating raw dough.”
“That was good thinking, Benjamin.” Matt’s praise added to the boy’s pleasure. Then he muttered, “We’ve made do with much worse than raw dough.”
He broke off another portion of biscuit, before passing it to the others. With a sigh he ate more slowly, savoring each bite. Finally he leaned back and sipped strong, hot coffee.
Turning to his daughter, he said, “You’ll have to pay attention to how Isabella makes her biscuits, Del.”
“Why, Pa?”
“So you’ll know how to make them when she lea—” He gulped coffee, hoping to hide his slip of the tongue. But he saw Izzy glance at him across the fire and knew she’d heard.
So. He expected her to leave. Her nervousness must be even more obvious than she’d thought. But if he believed that, why had he married her? She stared down at her hands. Maybe he had begun to realize that she was the only woman foolish enough, or desperate enough, to take a chance on a ready-made family and a man who barely eked out an existence in this wilderness.
To cover the sudden silence she turned her attention to the children. “Why don’t you tell me a little about yourselves? Aaron? I remember hearing you tell the preacher you’re almost fifteen.”
“Yes’m.” At a look from his brothers he added, “Well, I will be in a couple of months.”
She tried to hide her surprise. “You seem much older.”
He ducked his head. “Pa says there wasn’t much time for being a baby out here in the mountains.”
“I suppose that’s so.” She turned to Benjamin. “And you are…?”
“Twelve,” he said proudly. “And Clement’s ten and Del’s eight.”
Izzy glanced at Del. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Is Del short for Delphine?”
“No, ma’am.” The little girl glanced at her father before saying, “Delphinium.” She made a face to show her disgust.
“Why, that’s a lovely name. Did you know it’s the name of a flower?”
Del seemed intrigued. “A flower? What kind?”
“It’s like a buttercup. I believe it’s also called a larkspur. It has lovely ruffled flowers as yellow as your hair.”
At