by Renee Ryan
“Well.” Mrs. Jennings sniffed. “She’s perfectly correct.”
Shoulders slumping forward, the cowboy scrunched the brim of his hat between his fingers. Bent over like that, he looked like a sad little boy. Rebecca felt instantly sorry for him. His request, odd as it seemed, was important to him. And she had a good idea Cassandra Garrison was the reason. He wanted to impress the pretty schoolteacher. How could she fault the man for that?
Mrs. Jennings must have sensed something similar, because she patted him awkwardly on the back, much like she did when she was trying to comfort poor little Alex whenever he was sad over losing his brother in the tornado.
“Now, now. Don’t fret,” she said. “I see no problem with Rebecca teaching you a few basic manners, as long as I am in attendance during the lesson.”
A smile lit across his face. “You’d do that?”
“My dear young man.” Mrs. Jennings tapped him lightly on the nose. “It would be my pleasure. We’ll meet again next week, right here in my kitchen, you name the day.”
“Tuesday afternoon?”
“That sounds perfect.”
He jammed his hat on his head and smiled at the older woman. Mrs. Jennings grinned back.
Rebecca stared at the two in horror. “But I didn’t—”
“Thank you both.” Clint nodded at Mrs. Jennings and then at Rebecca. “You have no idea how grateful I am.”
“But…” She couldn’t make her mind organize words in the proper order. Or language. “I can’t. It’s not…”
Ignoring her completely, Clint moved to Bess’s side and ruffled the girl’s hair. “See ya, half pint.”
“Wait, I…” Why couldn’t she get the words out? “I…”
He strode to the door. “I’ll be back Tuesday afternoon.”
“Clint,” Rebecca called after his retreating back. “You must not misunderstand. I did not agree to—”
The door banged shut behind him.
“—teach you manners,” she choked out a moment too late.
She gaped at the back door still rattling on its hinges. What had she gotten herself into? Thanks to Mrs. Jennings’s interference and her own inability to speak up, Rebecca was committed to teaching basic manners to a man she hardly knew.
Could her life get any stranger?
Shifting from foot to foot, Pete waited for Rebecca at the bottom of the stairs leading out of the boardinghouse kitchen. He tried to concentrate on what he would say to her, but his mind kept returning to the information Clint had shared this afternoon. Abigail Johnson had been rude to Rebecca in the mercantile.
It was bad enough that he hadn’t been the one to protect her from the attack. But when he’d heard that Abigail had called his wife a cow, Pete had set out to give that girl a piece of his mind. He’d stopped himself just outside the store. For Rebecca’s sake, he’d held back from entering, resolved never to act rashly on her behalf again.
After his disastrous confrontation with the girl’s mother, Pete knew that no matter how gratifying it would be to confront Abigail, the best way to protect Rebecca was to focus on presenting their marriage in a positive light to the town.
Not that he knew how he was going to pull that off. He wanted to help Rebecca, not hurt her any further. He wanted to make her life easier, happier—fuller. But he’d failed to do so for Sarah. How could he expect anything different this time around?
Lord, help me to discern the best way to provide for my new wife. I don’t want to make any more mistakes.
The obvious first step was to present a united front as a married couple. A wave of nerves filled him at the thought, followed by a hint of expectation. Despite the awkwardness between them, he was looking forward to seeing Rebecca this evening. She made him feel less burdened, less soul-weary. Less…something, something stronger and harder to define.
Feeling guilty at the direction of his thoughts, he tried to form a picture of Sarah in his mind. Unfortunately, the image of her beautiful dark hair and soft features wavered just out of reach. He felt as though he was losing her all over again. He didn’t want to forget her—the memory of their life together deserved more—yet lately thoughts of her came in a blurry haze, if at all. Was Rebecca taking Sarah’s place in his mind, now that she was in his life?
Guilt dug deeper, setting him to pace.
What would it mean to Sarah and their life together if he allowed himself to open to Rebecca, just a little? Yet how could he hold on to the one he’d lost without hurting the one to whom he’d pledged the rest of his life?
He didn’t have long to consider the question before Rebecca exited the house and caught sight of him midway down the steps. “Oh, Pete, I…what are you doing here?”
He stopped pacing. He wasn’t sure why her obvious surprise at seeing him sent a wave of sorrow through him, but he pasted a smile on his face and resolved to change that look in his wife’s eyes. After only a day of marriage, he already knew he liked her smiles far better than that wary expression staring at him now.
“I came to escort you home.” He reached for the picnic basket she held, brushing his palm over her knuckles as he took most of the weight from her.
Her fingers trembled under his light touch, but she relinquished the handle without argument.
“What a nice thing to do,” she said.
Her pleased tone told its own story. She was happy he’d come for her. His heart gave one solid kick in his chest and he vowed to put the past out of his mind and focus on the present. At least, for tonight.
“Is this my dinner?” He lifted the basket slightly.
“No. It’s our dinner. We’re eating together, remember?”
The shyness in her manner was so sweet, so unaffected, he found himself wanting to pull her into his arms and…well, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, exactly. All he knew was an ache clutched his chest whenever he looked at his new wife.
Lord, don’t let me hurt this woman.
“I remember.” He tugged her hand in his. Thankfully, she didn’t pull away.
As they set out, a comfortable silence spread over them, giving Pete a chance to think. Although their marriage was unusual, and may never be normal if he didn’t figure out how to let go of Sarah and his past mistakes, he liked to think they could at least have a friendship. He’d seen many marriages built on less.
Lord, I pray You guide this union. I…
He wasn’t sure what else to pray for. Time, maybe? Patience? Wisdom?
“Pete?” Rebecca glanced at him with that cautious look back in her eyes. “I have to tell you something.”
He nodded, expecting the worst. Hundreds of possibilities came to mind, most including Matilda Johnson and her mean daughter.
“Clint Fuller asked me to teach him manners next Tuesday afternoon.”
A small amount of relief washed through him. Not that he was happy about Rebecca spending time with the younger man, but Pete knew Clint was solely interested in Cassandra Garrison. That made the situation almost bearable. Almost. “He told me. He wanted to make sure I approved.”
She lifted her face to his. “And do you?”
No. But he held on to the rash answer and lifted a casual shoulder. “As long as Mrs. Jennings is there, I don’t see a problem.”
“Oh.” She sighed. “All right.”
She didn’t sound happy with his answer. Had she wanted him to say no? Did he have that right? They were married, yes. But he didn’t believe that meant he had to control every part of his wife’s life. Regardless of the reasons for their wedding, he wanted a marriage of mutual respect. He’d become her husband to protect her, not to tell her what to do.
Which reminded him. “Clint also told me about your trouble with Abigail Johnson in the mercantile.”
Shame filled her eyes and she lowered her head.
“No, Rebecca. You don’t need to feel embarrassed.” He maneuvered directly in front of her, softening his voice. “You did nothing wrong. Abigail did.”
“She called me a cow.”
“That was wrong of her. Very wrong.” He waited until she looked up at him. “You’re the perfect size.”
Her expression said she didn’t believe him. But she gave him a shaky smile, anyway. “That’s very kind of you to say.”
“It’s not kindness. It’s the truth.”
Her smile wobbled, then held. An improvement.
“Rebecca.” He moved a step closer, determined to make her see the person he saw—an attractive, kind, sweet-tempered woman.
“You’re beautiful.” He traced one of her eyebrows with his fingertip. “Any man with a lick of sense would be happy to call you his wife. I’m certainly proud that I gave you my name.”
Without giving her a chance to reply, he lowered his head toward hers. He wasn’t sure what he had planned, but friendship was not the first thing on his mind.
When his face was inches from hers, she drew in a sharp, frightened breath.
He was scaring her.
Angry at himself, he quickly stepped back. Clearly, he hadn’t learned his lesson. He was a big man. He must be more careful with her. “We should get home.”
“Yes, of course.” He hated the dejection in her voice, but couldn’t think how to erase it.
Turning toward home, he let her set the pace. They covered the last two blocks in complete silence.
This was not the way Pete had planned the evening to go, but that did not mean he couldn’t rescue the situation. Perhaps if he asked Rebecca questions about herself, if he focused on her for a change, she would see he didn’t mean her any harm. That he really wanted to be her friend, if nothing else.
Placing his hand on her elbow, he guided Rebecca up the back stairs and into the kitchen. He knew the exact moment she saw the surprise he’d left for her because she stopped abruptly and twirled to face him. “Oh Pete, you picked flowers.”
The wonder in her voice, along with the pleasure in her eyes, told him he’d done the right thing. His nerves settled. “I’m glad you like them.”
“I love them,” she said, blinking up at him for a long, uninterrupted moment.
His heart beat hard against his ribs. No woman had ever looked at him like that, with the embodiment of pure, uncomplicated joy on her face.
Who would have thought such a simple gesture as picking flowers and placing them in a glass jar would bring a moment of peace and understanding between them?
He allowed a sense of unexpected pleasure to spread through him. But just as he started to relax into the moment, her expression changed. She looked sad. Worse, the distance was between them again, only this time he hadn’t been the one to put it there. “What’s wrong, Rebecca?”
She swung away from him. Even with her back to him he could see her dabbing at her eyes.
He tried not to lose hope. But was he destined to make every woman he married cry?
“I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. You see, I don’t know how to thank you. I…” She spun around to face him again. Tears wiggled on the edges of her lashes. “No one has ever done anything this sweet for me before.”
They hadn’t?
What sort of bleak life had she led before coming to America? He knew there’d been poverty in her childhood, but a few wild flowers in a jar cost nothing but a little time and thought. “You deserve pretty things, Rebecca.”
She sniffed. “Thank you, Pete.”
Wanting to lighten the mood, and needing something to do with his hands, he stepped away from her and began rummaging through the picnic basket.
She’d packed enough food to feed a family of ten boys with a few ranch hands on the side. “I see you brought my supper,” he looked up and winked at her, “but what are you going to eat?”
A smile quivered at the edges of her lips then slowly spread until it reached all the way to her eyes. “Funny.”
He grinned. “I thought so, anyway.”
She moved closer to the table and leaned over the basket to have a look herself. She smelled of spices and home.
He took a quick breath.
“Out of my way, big man.” With a gentle bump of her hip, she shoved him aside. “I have supper to prepare.”
Suddenly needing a little more distance between them, he was only too happy to comply. As he silently watched her set the food on the table, a thought occurred to him. His wife had a sense of humor.
And, apparently, so did he.
Like most July mornings in High Plains, Sunday dawned bright and hot. Alone in her bedroom, Rebecca pulled aside the blanket nailed above the window, then looked out. The sun’s harsh rays paled the wretched scenery of dirt and rocks and desolate buildings that made up her new home.
Sighing, she dropped her hand and went back to dressing. After four days of marriage, the awkwardness between her and Pete was slowly dissipating. And because of that, she realized she was growing to like her husband. His sense of humor was a surprise, especially since it seemed to emerge whenever things got tense between them.
Yet, something was keeping them from becoming closer, moving beyond friendship. If only she could figure out what stood between them, maybe they could take the next step in their marriage.
Then again, maybe things were about to change.
At breakfast, Pete had suggested they attend church together this morning. Rebecca had liked the idea. She wanted to worship the Lord with Pete by her side. But also, the town needed to see them together as a married couple.
The gossip hadn’t settled down since their wedding. In fact, it had turned in a different direction. Now the speculation was whether or not Rebecca was already a month or more with child.
She shook her head in disgust and proceeded to lace up her shoes. If only the people of High Plains knew the true nature of her marriage they wouldn’t think anything so vile.
On the surface, matters looked like they were progressing. Pete escorted her home every evening, but they hardly spoke about anything beyond the rebuilding of the town and what each of their days had been like. They were making progress, slow and steady, but their relationship still felt far too similar to the one she’d had with her parents.
At least there was one thing she could celebrate since her wedding day. Edward was up and moving around. He’d made it to the house for supper last night, after Pete had gone out to search for the twins. Of course, Edward was a long way from recovering completely. The Tully brothers had hurt him more than she’d realized. Her stomach rolled, but she shrugged off the sick feeling. Edward was alive. And the Tullys had left town.
It was time they all focused on the future.
“Rebecca,” Pete called out from the kitchen. “Are you ready to go?”
“Almost.” Staring at herself in a tiny mirror, she adjusted her skirt, tugged on her collar and then hurried out of her room. Because of the special nature of this first official appearance as husband and wife, Rebecca had put on the same dress she’d worn for their wedding. She wanted to look her best. Or, rather, as nice as she could with what little she owned.
The moment she stepped into the kitchen, her gaze connected with her husband. For a moment, her heartbeat slowed to a thick, painful thump, thump, thump, and then quickened to a breathtaking speed. Just like her, Pete had dressed in the same clothes he’d worn for their wedding.
“I see we thought alike.” His face split into a grin, his eyes crinkling around the edges.
Her heartbeat slowed even more.
Glory, Pete Benjamin was a handsome man. And so big. She had to crane her neck to look into his face. She didn’t feel big and clumsy next to him. And certainly nothing like a cow.
With a trembling hand, she tucked a loose tendril behind her ear. She didn’t wear a bonnet like most American women. As a concession, she’d chosen to wear her hair twisted atop her head. She hoped it would be enough to silence any criticism.
Smiling, Pete offered his arm to her. “Shall we?”
“Yes, of course.”
As he placed her hand in the crook of his arm, she caught sight of the wedding band on his left hand.
Pleased he wore his ring where others could see it, Rebecca walked outside with a genuine smile on her face. She breathed in the clean air and looked up to the heavens. Puffs of cottony white clouds skidded at a leisurely pace across the blue sky.
“Shall we walk?” Pete asked.
“I’d like that.”
She wanted every moment she could get to know this man better. But as they set out toward the church, she had no idea how to speak to him. Although they’d shared a life for four days, and they were starting to fall into a comfortable rhythm, it was awkward moments like these that still occurred too often for her liking.
She knew she couldn’t force the matter. She had to trust that the Lord would sort out the particulars of her unusual marriage in His time.
For now, she would attempt another step on her own. Tapping into her resolve, she opened with a safe topic. “I’ll be cooking Sunday dinner for the boarders, as usual.”
“You work on Sunday?” He sounded surprised.
“I take my Sabbath on Monday.”
He nodded but didn’t respond further.
She wanted to lighten the mood, but a more important topic came to mind and so she continued in a more somber tone. “Edward was able to get out of bed last night, after you left to search for the twins. He made it all the way inside the house without my help and then sat at the table to eat his supper.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Pete patted her hand with a distant look in his eyes.
What was he thinking? Why wouldn’t he look at her?
She bit down on her bottom lip, forced back a rush of conflicting emotions and focused on her brother once more. “Like I said, Edward is on the mend, but not completely. He didn’t make it through the entire meal.”
Pete’s steps faltered. “So he’s still in pain.”
“I’m afraid so.” Genuine worry punched through her. “But he’s planning to go back to work in the morning just the same.”
Pete must have heard the concern in her voice, because he stopped walking and looked down at her with a question in his eyes. “You don’t think he’s ready?”