Trail 0f Fears (Native American Heritage)

by Sara R. Turnquist

  After releasing one hand’s hold on the bucket, she worked the latch.

  Nothing.

  What?

  Samuel.

  Had he locked the door? Again?

  Slamming her palm against the rough wood, she called out. “Samuel, let Mama in.”

  A giggle sounded from the other side.

  She groaned. “Samuel, this is not a time to play games. Mama needs to get in the house.”

  More laughing.

  The water’s weight became more than her arm could bear, forcing her to set it down.

  “Mama wants you to open the door right now, young man.” Amanda tried not to let her anger into her voice, but it came through in her raised volume.

  Banging both of her flat hands on the door, and then shaking on the latch, she began to lose her tightly held control. “Samuel Isaac Haynes, do you hear me?”

  “Is there a problem, ma’am?” a voice behind her spoke.

  She spun toward the sound. A dark-haired man sat on a caramel colored horse. Had she see him before? He had a dark, scruffy beard that had probably only been growing for a couple days. His equally dark eyes seemed to look through her. Ah, yes, he was another rancher. What was his name? Something Miller…

  “Ma’am?”

  She realized she had failed to answer him.

  Taking a step away from the door, she squared her shoulders. “I am perfectly well. I seem to be…temporarily locked out of my home. But it’s nothing to concern yourself with, Mr. Miller.”

  His eyebrows raised for just a moment. Surprise? At her comment? Or surprise that she knew his name? It didn’t matter. “What can I help you with, sir?”

  He remained silent for a moment, and then looked down at his hands on the pommel of his saddle. “I was…ah…hoping I could speak with you.”

  Her eyes held his. She crossed her arms in front of herself. “As you are.”

  His face colored, and he nodded. “Yes, that I am.” He licked his lips and looked from side to side. “Perhaps this is not the best time.” Dark eyes shot to the locked door.

  Amanda’s temper flared. “I can assure you, Mr. Miller, I am quite well. And whatever your business is, I am certain now is as good a time as any.”

  Mr. Miller’s face became slack, and his eyes widened. It was several seconds before he seemed to gather his wits. Then he spoke. “The thing is that I have a, um, proposal…that is, a proposition for you.”

  Amanda’s brows furrowed. “Proposal?” A marriage offer so soon? Her husband was not yet one week in the ground. He couldn’t be serious.

  Mr. Miller continued to shift and fidget in his saddle. “Yes. I, ah, know about…that is, I understand that your situation is, well, you have no means to care for yourself and your son…”

  Fire ignited in her belly. Couldn’t care for herself and her son? Of course she could! She would do anything…everything…her shoulders fell. Of course he was right. Her hands were tied. There was no real work for a woman in her position. How would she support herself and Samuel?

  That very question had kept her awake every night since Jed’s condition turned serious. But that didn’t mean she had to take any offer that came her way. Did it?

  Amanda eyed Mr. Miller. He seemed a pleasant enough fellow. She searched her memory. What did she know of him? Not much. Although she had never been much of a busy body, keeping mostly to the ranch and the home. All she truly knew was his surname.

  “Mrs. Haynes?”

  Shaking her head, she refocused on him. “I’m sorry, what?” Had he continued talking?

  “I said that I could take care of you and your son, offer you the kind of stability you need. A home, food, whatever you need to be comfortable.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why would you do this?” What was he after? She watched his eyes closely. Was that a leer? Or just an insecurity?

  He cleared his throat. “I am in a position of needing to expand my ranch. If possible, I would like to take on your late husband’s herd.”

  Relief washed over her. He didn’t have designs on her. They would each bring something to the table. A deal.

  Would he want her to also share his bed?

  “Would I have my own room?”

  The man blinked as if that had not occurred to him. Had it not? “Yes, ma’am.” There it was again, the reddening of his face.

  She released her arms and let them fall by her sides, eyeing the ground. Should she take this offer? Was there likely to be another? Or one so gracious?

  Interlacing her fingers at hip level, she met his eyes again, opening her mouth to speak.

  But he spoke before she could. “I’ll give you some time to think about it.”

  She closed her mouth and nodded. That would be best. Not a quick decision. “Thank you, Mr. Miller.”

  “I’ll call again tomorrow afternoon.” He pointed behind her. “But I think you’re other problem may be solved.”

  She spun around.

  Samuel stood in the doorway, door opened just enough for his face to fit through. How much had he heard?

  Amanda jerked her foot back to stop the door.

  Samuel ducked back inside and pushed on the door, but it wouldn’t budge with her foot in the way.

  “Good luck,” Mr. Miller called, tipping his hat.

  Amanda smiled and nodded before turning back toward her son and forcing the door wider. “Samuel James, you are in big trouble!”

  As Samuel ran further into the house, Amanda couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder at the retreating figure on horseback.

  The truth was that his offer was fair. Probably the best she could hope for. If she received another offer of marriage, it would likely include a different understanding. Concessions she wasn’t sure she would be willing to make. But, in her situation, she might have to.

  Perhaps Mr. Miller would have a deal after all.

  ****

  Brandon fidgeted with the cuffs of his best Sunday jacket. Moisture beaded on his forehead. Was it warm in here? He shot a glance at the preacher. The man seemed fairly comfortable in his jacket.

  Perhaps it was something else then. He gazed at the ceiling and took some deep breaths. Was he truly that nervous? Why? It wasn’t as if this was a real marriage. Though it was the only one he would ever have.

  He never had such silly notions as love. That was a grand idea, but did those marriages ever work out? His parents had been matched for better reasons and they seemed well suited for one another. Surely that was wisdom enough to seek a more logical process for choosing one’s life partner.

  And what he knew of Amanda Haynes, though little, did not put him off. She was pleasant enough to gaze upon. Everyone that spoke of her told of what a good wife she was. The only criticism Cook ever heard tell of was that she kept to herself. He could find no fault in that. It may even be a trait that earned her admiration in his eyes.

  A hand landed on his shoulder.

  He turned.

  Reverend Mason looked at him. “I’m certain she will be here any moment.”

  Brandon nodded. How long had it been? Was she late? He glanced at Uncle Owen and Cook, seated in the first pew.

  Uncle Owen gave him a nod and a smile.

  Was he doing the right thing? No doubt he did the prudent thing. For this poor widow and for his own ranch. But did he preclude her from finding love again? That is, if she put such stock in these things.

  The door to the small church opened, breaking his thoughts.

  Amanda stepped in, holding her son’s hand, straggling behind. As she walked down the aisle toward him, her eyes remained glued to the floor. But his were on her. Would he remember how she looked this day?

  She wore a cream-colored blouse trimmed in lace fabric. Her skirt was smooth and pink. Perhaps her best church outfit. Had he expected a white dress? No, that would not have been appropriate for a woman who had…well, who had already been married.

  Her long, blonde hair had been pulled back and up in an at
tractive style with curls piled on top. She had even adorned the right side with flowers, which matched the bouquet she carried.

  The boy did not seem truly aware or pleased at the circumstances. He scowled as his mother pulled him along. As she neared the front of the church, she set him on the front pew opposite Uncle Owen and Cook. She spoke some words to him in hushed tones. He whined in protest, but soon quieted. Then she pressed a kiss to his hair, and he leaned back, folding his arms across his chest.

  What was Brandon going to do about the boy? He hadn’t considered how the youngster would feel about a new man in his mother’s life. And so soon after his father’s death. But nothing could be done about it at this point. Sometimes very adult decisions had to be made regardless.

  Amanda turned and faced Brandon, smoothing a hand down her skirt. Then her eyes were on his.

  And his breath caught.

  She was quite a sight, up close. Her cheeks were flushed and eyes bright from the slight exertion. That only served to highlight her features.

  “Sorry I’m late.” Her words came out in a breath.

  Brandon opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. So, he closed his mouth and simply nodded.

  “If everyone is ready, we can begin.” The preacher stepped closer.

  Amanda nodded, licking her lips and grasping her flowers. Did he see a slight tremble in the delicate buds?

  “Yes, Reverend,” he said, swallowing against a dry mouth. He shifted to face Reverend Mason and sensed Amanda do the same.

  The preacher spoke words about the institution of marriage, but Brandon had a difficult time listening. He found himself stealing glances at Amanda. What was she thinking? Did she have second thoughts? Regrets?

  Still, they moved through the ceremony, responding in turn when they were asked.

  Amanda spoke the words that would bind her to Brandon without hesitation. Should it surprise him? It did.

  “Now it is time for the presentation of the ring.” Reverend Mason turned toward Brandon. “Do you have the ring?”

  Brandon reached in his pocket and produced the circlet of gold.

  “Will you take the ring and place it on your bride’s finger and repeat after me?”

  Brandon spoke the words after the preacher as he took Amanda’s smaller hand in his underneath the bouquet. Sliding the ring on her finger, which seemed impossibly smaller than his, he was surprised when he encountered resistance.

  Her other wedding band.

  His eyes shot to hers.

  Hazel eyes widened and slid closed.

  Reverend Mason, having paused, spoke in that moment. “Is there a problem?”

  Brandon slid his wedding band off her finger.

  Amanda pulled her hand out from under the bouquet.

  The preacher’s brows shot up. “I see.” He eyed Brandon.

  As did Amanda.

  Everyone seemed to be waiting on him with baited breath. What was he to do? Was it his place to remove Jed’s wedding band? Surely that was something she needed to do. But everyone looked at him as if he should act.

  So, he reached for her hand once more.

  Her eyes flitted between his and the wedding band on her finger.

  He gently grasped it and pulled. It wouldn’t come. Twisting a little, he felt it budge. From there, it took little work to get Jed’s wedding band off.

  His face warmed. Why did he have to do that? It just wasn’t right. To remove another man’s claim on his wife. She should have been the one to do it.

  But he held fast as he slid his wedding band onto her finger.

  Reverend Mason let out a sigh and continued, instructing Amanda to place her hand in Brandon’s.

  He held out an open hand to her, but he now held Jed’s wedding band.

  As her fingers reached for his, they hovered for just a moment over her former band. Perhaps no one else would have noticed. But Brandon did. And why shouldn’t she? It had been on her finger for years. She must be loath to part with it, perhaps one of the last pieces of her husband she had left.

  Still, she pressed her fingers over his as instructed.

  Brandon closed his hand around hers. And he continued to watch her face, but her eyes shifted toward the preacher soon after. Was she afraid? Embarrassed? He had not meant to offend her.

  But soon after he turned his attention toward the preacher as well for the remainder of the simple ceremony. It wasn’t long before Reverend Mason spoke the final words and declared them husband and wife.

  “You may now kiss your bride.”

  Brandon looked at Amanda.

  She didn’t meet his eyes. Her gaze caught on his chest.

  Why had he not thought about this particular part of the ceremony? The woman seemed so scared, so vulnerable. She needn’t be.

  He leaned forward, tilting his head down and pressed a kiss to the side of her face before pulling back.

  When she met his gaze, her eyes were wide. Did she wonder at his simple contact? He wanted nothing more from her than what they had discussed. If she feared differently, then she was mistaken.

  All he wanted…needed was that cattle. He needed it desperately. Now it was his. And that was all that mattered. Wasn’t it?

  If you have enjoyed Chapter One, you can find the rest of A Convenient Risk here.