Julia's eyes. She reached out and took Julia's hand and squeezed it. Julia returned the pressure. Then they smiled a little shyly and moved back and the moment slid away.
❧
As the days passed, Julia's looks changed, though she was unaware of it. Part of the reason was the new dresses she wore, some made over from Sarah's clothes and one a brand new dress from a piece of sky blue cotton that Sarah had insisted on making. Part of it was the fact that she was eating three good meals a day, and she had lost her earlier gauntness. But the change was more than either of those. The lines of stress and care had melted from her face. No longer was there a narrow groove perpetually between her eyes. Her mouth wasn't grim anymore, the lips held tight and straight.
She felt safe now. She didn't have to fear her husband's volatile temper nor endure his invasion of her body at night. There was no need to worry about the lack of food or whether the crops would be enough to pay back Mr. Harrington or how she would get together the money to clothe and shoe her children.
She looked younger, her hair shinier, her eyes bluer. The delicate color was back in her face, and her mouth was once again soft and full. She had lost the beaten-down look, and she was pretty, even beautiful when the sweet smile touched her face.
Luke and Sarah saw the change, and it pleased them. Sarah began to think happily of matchmaking, turning over in her mind the eligible bachelors available and wondering which of them would be right for Julia. She deserved somebody special.
The next Saturday they went into Willow Springs to get the mail and buy supplies. It was a treat to go to town, and the whole family was excited. Julia wore her new blue dress and proudly put her children in their new clothes. They climbed into the wagon and drove off, Micah and the children in the back and Julia sitting up on the high scat next to Luke and Sarah.
They went first to the seed store, where Luke made his purchases. Micah helped Luke load the heavy sacks into the wagon, then went his own way.
Micah had the rest of the weekend tree, and had two weeks' pay in his pocket. He was feeling good. He'd worn his best shirt and trousers, as well as his father's Mexican-tooled leather belt. He pushed his hat back at a jauntier angle. He planned to enjoy himself today. First he would look around the town a little, find out what was what. He would learn where moonshine could be bought, and he'd buy a jug. There would be dancing someplace, and he'd find that, too. And at the dance, he would find a willing woman.
Micah smiled to himself at the thought. Women, that was what he liked best back here, maybe the only thing. There weren't many women out farther west, particularly not his own kind—if there was such a thing. He had discovered a long time ago that he wasn't like anyone else. He had his feet half in one world, half in the other, and though he could survive in either, he really didn't belong anywhere. His father, a freed slave from Georgia, had been a "buffalo soldier," one of the famed black cavalry. His mother had been a Navajo Indian. When he was little, he hadn't known he was odd, hadn't realized that he was neither fish nor fowl. Around the fort he had fit in. The other men had been like his father: tough, proud, independent black men. There had been several women like his mother, Indians who lived with soldiers. Later, when his father had left the army, they had moved to a small town in the New Mexico Territory, and there his father had plied the trade of blacksmith, to which he'd been trained long ago when he was still a boy and a slave. There had been no one else like Micah's family in that town, no other squaw, no other black man, and Micah had begun to realize how different he was.
He had known that he had no place with the Navajos, but, listening to his father talk about Georgia and his family there, he had decided that his people lay back east. He hadn't been able to