Texas December 1884

Matilda Rockford knew life ebbed and flowed on an ever-changing current. But had enough changed in her absence?

She pressed her cheek against the cold glass of the train window. She had delighted in the green landscape of eastern Texas, awaiting her first glimpse of Dallas in four years. Her skin tingled all over. Ma and Pa would be waiting to take her home. She licked her dry lips. The train clacked along, gently rocking her back and forth.

When the train rounded the last bend, the first buildings of town came into view. She sighed.

Home.

Though she didn't live in Dallas, she would see Ma and Pa and welcome the two-hour wagon ride to their nearby town of Green Hollow.

When the station came into view, she gathered her belongings and clasped the waist-length cape around her neck. The train clattered and screeched to a stop, jerking her forward in her seat.

She pinned on her wide-brimmed hat, stood, and smoothed down her wrinkled green traveling suit. Carrying her reticule in one hand and a hatbox in the other, she made her way up the aisle. Her backside ached from days of travel, coming from the East Coast. She stepped off the train and onto the platform, searching for Pa and Ma. She sucked in the cool December air, crisper than she remembered.

Her gaze went from face to face in the crowd. Where were they? They knew her train and arrival time. They wouldn't have forgotten.

"Tilly!"

She froze at the familiar voice, and dread coiled around her spine. She hadn't been called Tilly in the four years since she'd left. Her aging great-aunt abhorred sobriquets, stating they broke etiquette, and never allowed their use. When the person shouted out the nickname from her youth again, she turned slowly.

In brown trousers and a tan canvas duster, Orion Dunbar strode toward her, more handsome than when she'd left. His wavy, coffee-colored hair touched his collar, and his shoulders seemed broader. He nearly took her breath away. Nearly. Too bad he didn't have a good disposition to go along with his looks. She forced herself not to wince and pulled her mouth into a congenial smile. "Good day, Mr. Dunbar."

He furrowed his brow. "Why so formal? It's just Orion."

Her great-aunt had drilled into her that a lady always addressed a man by his title, but Tilly wasn't in Baltimore anymore. She dipped her head. "Orion." When he smiled, something inside her melted. He'd always had a captivating smile. Ever since that first day fourteen years ago when he'd arrived in Green Hollow.

"You're looking as lovely as ever." His Texas drawl poured over her like warm molasses.

She had missed the easy way people spoke here. Unlike the tight, rushed speech back East. Everyone in a hurry to do nothing of importance.

How uncharacteristic of Orion to pay her a compliment. "Thank you."

"Where's your luggage?"

"My pa and ma should be here somewhere." She scanned the people, desperate to find her folks and have an excuse to part from his company.

"They sent me."

She snapped back around to him. Her folks wouldn't do that to her. Orion had tormented her and teased her when they were in school. And ruined her new dress. "Why would they do that?" No, they would not do this to her. They knew the pain and torture he'd caused her in their youth.

"Your pa hurt his leg, and neither he nor I felt it fitting for your ma to travel by herself. So I volunteered."

Neither her pa nor him? Since when had he become companionable with her folks?

"What happened to Pa?"

"Nothing serious. Just a broken leg."

"Nothing serious!" People had lost limbs with less of an injury. "Has the doctor seen him?"

"Of course. He'll mend fine. He's not fit to travel just yet."

Concern laced her voice and gripped her throat. "I want to see him."

"I have a buggy over here. But let's get your baggage first."

She pointed to a trunk being set onto the platform and an oversize green-and-blue tapestry carpetbag. "Let the baggage handler help you with that."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "I can manage it."

That smile. She inwardly sighed.

Manage it? He hoisted it up as though it were her reticule. She grabbed hold of her carpetbag and had considerably more trouble with it than he had with the heavy, bulky trunk. She waddled along behind him with the carpetbag weighing her down on one side. Her hatbox didn't provide much of a counterbalance.

He heaved the trunk onto the back of the buggy. The burden caused the conveyance to dip and the frame to creak. He turned. "You should have let me get that." After relieving her of the carpetbag, he strapped the pair to the back of the buggy then slung her hatbox onto the floor in front of the seat. "Only one trunk?"

"I have several more that should arrive tomorrow."

"Why didn't they come with you?"

"Those trunks weren't ready for the train. I was anxious to be on my way home." Since her parents regularly came to Dallas to pick up orders for the store, she hadn't seen it as an inconvenience, but now she realized it would be.

Orion stood next to the buggy and held out his hand. "Let me help you up."

Who was this Orion who was being so cordial? When she'd left, he'd scowled at her as she rode out of town. And growing up, he had teased and tormented her then ignored her. She wasn't sure which had been worse — being teased or ignored.

Taking a deep breath, she placed a hand in his broad, strong one. Would he squeeze her hand until she cried like when she was a child?

No, he held it gently, helping her into the buggy. He laid a quilt across her lap to keep her warm on the ride.

Her breath caught as she recognized the covering. This wasn't just any quilt. This was hers — or rather the first she'd made as a girl. An appliqué tulip pattern. She'd been so proud of her yearlong work, practicing her sewing. Now she could see how the stitches were uneven and the seams crooked.

When Orion had arrived on the orphan train from the East and been adopted by the blacksmith, her mother encouraged her to give him something. She had chosen her prized work. No wonder Orion had taunted and persecuted her. She'd given him a quilt with big red flowers on it. A girl's quilt.

Now, soft from wear, it had a few holes clear through it. Did he remember from where this had come? She chanced a sideways glance at him as he climbed aboard and took the reins. When would this Orion vanish and the one from her youth return?

The bumpy ride did nothing to quell her concern for her pa and fueled the ache in her backside.

"Why didn't Ma come with you?"

"She's looking after the store and your pa."

That made sense.

Orion cleared his throat. "I'm sorry about your aunt."

Her aunt passing away had released Tilly from her duty to care for her aging relative. "Thank you."

After that, neither spoke for the nearly two-hour ride. She didn't know what to say to him, and obviously he didn't know what to say to her either. What was there to say? So they rode with only the creaking of the buggy springs for conversation.

When the buggy crested a hill and her little hometown of Green Hollow came into view, excitement welled up in her.

Home.

Finally.

Orion guided the buggy through a very cold-looking...