Would-Be Wilderness Wife by Regina Scott Page B

you eat,” his mother insisted, leaning back against the head of the bed as if satisfied her cooking had been exonerated. “You can bring water from Drew’s spring if you’re concerned about mine, but I won’t have a guest in my house or any of my children starving.”
    â€œI’ll cook them something, Ma,” Beth said, hopping up out of her seat. “Drew can help.”
    Although he didn’t mind helping, he didn’t like the smile that crossed his mother’s face or the way she glanced at Catherine. Who knew what the two would get up to if he left them alone for too long?
    â€œWe need more wood for the fire,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
    His mother’s smile widened.
    â€œYou’re in trouble,” Beth said as he followed her down the stairs. “I know that look on Ma’s face. She wants something, and I think it’s Miss Stanway as a daughter-in-law.”
    â€œMiss Stanway might have something to say about that,” Drew replied, heading for the door. He glanced back in time to see his sister shake her head.
    â€œIt doesn’t matter what Miss Stanway says. It doesn’t matter what you say. And Simon has the least say of all.”
    So she had heard his brother’s outrageous demands last night. “Don’t start, Beth,” Drew warned.
    â€œOh, it’s far too late,” his sister predicted. “You know that when Ma makes up her mind about something, it’s going to happen. If I were you, I’d talk to the Reverend Bagley about a church date.” Humming to herself, she disappeared into the back room.
    First his brothers and now his mother. Were they all mad? Drew stepped onto the front porch and glanced around the yard in the cool morning air. A dozen projects called for his attention, from a loose shingle on the barn roof to the field waiting for the plow. Did his family really think he had time for a wife?
    Well, they could scheme all they liked. He knew what must be done. Another day to make sure Ma had recovered and to track down this sickness, and Catherine Stanway would be out of his life. All he had to do was hold firm to his convictions.
    And try to forget the warmth of her cradled against his chest.
    * * *
    â€œHe’s a good man, you know,” Mrs. Wallin said after Drew and Beth had left the room. “Proved up a hundred and sixty acres all on his own, and raised his brothers and Beth when their father died.”
    Catherine kept herself busy tucking the covers around her patient’s waist. “Your family is certainly to be commended, making a home in the wilderness.”
    Mrs. Wallin caught her hand. “But he doesn’t have a home.”
    Catherine frowned. “He most certainly does. I slept in it last night.”
    Mrs. Wallin shook her head. “He has a house. That’s not a home. The Bible says a man is to grow up and start his own family. How can Drew do that when he won’t let go of this one?”
    From somewhere deep inside her, anger pushed its way out of Catherine’s mouth. “Why would you want him to let go? He’s trying to protect you all. I wish my father and brother had had that much sense. Maybe I wouldn’t be alone now.”
    She turned away from the bed and went to stand by the fire. Her breath shuddered, and she forced herself to draw in the air, then let it out slowly. What was wrong with her? Mrs. Wallin had every right to be concerned for her son’s future. That was what families did—care for each other.
    But why didn’t my father think about me, Lord? Was it really so important that he and Nathan had to go and fight? Or was I such a termagant of a daughter and sister they couldn’t wait to escape me?
    She heard the bedclothes rustle, and then the creak of the floor as feet padded toward her. Turning, she found Mrs. Wallin beside her. A tall woman, she gazed down at Catherine, face twisted as if she