Again sunshine poured through her window, and she shook her head and moaned. She’d never been one to lie abed—with the farm demanding all her attention, it wasn’t possible—and she refused to start now. But more often than not lately she slept till well past dawn. Throwing her feet over the side of the bedstead, she scurried across the downy, cottonwood floor and splashed water into the bowl. The mirror was ornate and chipped, a long-ago casualty of the trip from Boston. Samantha glanced at her reflection and groaned. She looked like she hadn’t slept a bit. “Not far from the truth,” Samantha mumbled as she scooped water onto her face. After Captain Morgan had left the night before, she’d sat in the rocking chair waiting for Will to come back. After an hour or so she decided he wasn’t likely to show up with her sitting waiting for him. So she went to her room and latched the door, falling on her bed in an exhausted heap. She thought she would cry.
