distance is irrelevant," Rose spoke up, the new shawl she was crocheting bunched up on her lap. "As you're only a few feet from us."
"Honestly," Gemma rolled her eyes, laughing at the pun. "I told you, if you keep this up, I'll get a stitch in my side."
"As we're sewing, that's a pun too," Elise pointed out, her bouncy brown curls tumbling over her shoulders, her eyes mischievous. She'd been a friend of Magnolia's fiancé for years, and already she felt like a close friend of theirs.
It was funny how an afternoon of fun and togetherness could change everything, Verbena thought, pulling her floss tight, needle in hand. Once they'd been on their own, just the five of them, and now there was their aunt Aumaleigh, the cowboys and workers at the ranch and friends. Gratefulness burned behind her eyes, gathered tightly in her throat. So much good had happened to them lately. Who knew what was next? They had a real life here--a dream of a life. Except for Ernest, that is. But it was more than she'd ever imagined. Almost a fairy tale come true.
She especially loved how happy her sisters were. Iris sewing away, sitting elegantly and properly in the corner, in the golden glow of a lamp on the end table beside her. She'd come out of her shell, from the tragedy years ago that had nearly broken her. She sparkled quietly but beautifully as she added something to the conversation. It must have been funny because everyone laughed.
Rose spoke up, adding another funny comment. Laughter rolled through the room. Rose was flourishing too, with her pretty blond hair and sweet loveliness, and one of the town deputies was interested in her. He seemed like a nice man. Rose had never looked happier as she crocheted away, listening to Magnolia contribute to the conversation. Laughter rang like thunder in the room.
Magnolia had come into her own, too. Verbena poked her needle through the fabric, carefully drawing the stitch tight. Magnolia was getting married to a fine man, everyone loved Tyler, and she radiated a quiet confidence that was heartening to see.
"You're awfully quiet." Penelope leaned close, keeping her voice low. The lively conversation around them kept her words from traveling. "You must have a lot on your mind, with Ernest out there somewhere and having to deal with that bounty hunter. It's a relief he's here, but he's, uh, intimidating."
"I suppose he is." Her heart tripped, remembering how tall he was, how he'd shrunk the room with his dominating presence. How dangerous he'd seemed, so well-armed and physically powerful. But there'd been kindness veiled in his eyes. "For some reason I don't feel afraid of him."
"When I saw him walk down the hall, you know, through the doorway, my heart stopped. Sweat broke out on the back of my neck." Penelope, slender and quiet, gave a little shiver. "I tried not to feel that way, it's not fair to judge people based on their looks alone, but there's something about him. Very powerful."
"That's true." She thought of how understanding he'd been over her outburst in the street. How all the anger and frustration for Ernest she'd caged up had just exploded out. Not every man would be as understanding.
"I hope it doesn't take him long to hunt down Ernest," Penelope added. Her lovely oval face was wreathed with sympathy. "It must be so hard to know your sisters are in as much danger as you are."
"Yes, that's exactly my worry." She stared down at the pillowcase she was embroidering and the little stitched flowers blurred. "Back in Chicago when Ernest first became violent, all of us had a discussion on what to do, you know, when I broke it off with him. Because I definitely had to end things. He was getting so controlling, it was scaring me."
"My mother went through something very similar," Penelope said quietly, her eyes filling with sadness. "That had to be such a hard time for you."
"I thought once I'd turned him down gently because of his increasing temper, that it would be over." She took one
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