by Stacy Henrie
“You’re welcome.” Neither moved for a moment, and then, at the same time, they both stepped away from each other. “I’ll return before sundown,” Samuel said.
She nodded. “I’ll have something prepared for supper when you return.”
Samuel supposed that his mother might have said this to his father, but no one had ever said this to him. He’d always fixed his own suppers. And, on the times when Gideon came staggering to his door, broke once again, Samuel had fed his brother too. So, he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. He wanted to grab Carmela and swing her around. Instead, he mounted the horse and settled onto its back.
“That would be a treat,” he said.
She smiled back at him, and his heart thudded hard against his chest. What would it be like, he wondered, to come home every day after work and be greeted by that smile? Internally shaking away his imaginings, he urged the horse around and rode back to town.
If someone had asked him later what he had done the rest of the afternoon, Samuel wouldn’t have been able to give an accurate account. After he had closed up shop and mounted the horse to ride back home, he didn’t even pay much attention to the gathering clouds that promised another rainstorm. The cooling wind also did nothing to interrupt his thoughts, which were full of Carmela: the stories of her childhood that she’d told him the night before by the fire, the way she’d breezed into his shop and delivered lunch, and how she’d sought him out for comfort after the run-in with Johnson.
Every thought was dominated by this woman, who was at his home right now, preparing him supper. How could he not think of her? He’d never been so grateful to ride a horse home after work in his whole life. This would cut down the time he would have normally taken. And, that meant having more time with Carmela before she would catch her train the next day.
He could smell supper before he had even entered the yard, which must have been because the aroma was foreign to him and because he’d been thinking about supper for the past few hours.
As Samuel dismounted Cinnamon, Carmela came out of the house. She had a linen dishcloth tucked into her waistband, acting as an apron, and her hair had come loose, sending stray tendrils about her face. She was even more beautiful than he had remembered. He took a deep breath and tried to organize his thoughts so that he wouldn’t say something foolish. She’d already been put through enough with Johnson and the tavern owner.
“You’re back,” she said. “Supper’s just ready. I’ll set the table while you wash up.”
Wash up? Samuel faintly recalled being told this by his mother many years ago, but he hadn’t heard it since then. He smiled to himself as he led the horse to the lean-to, fetched the mare some water and grain, and then washed up at the water pump.
When he walked into his home, he was struck by the transformation. Carmela had been busy during his absence. A jar of fresh flowers sat on the small kitchen table, the place had been swept and dusted, and everything seemed to gleam in the glow of the setting sun. In addition, the place smelled heavenly, like fresh bread and simmering stew.
“I hope you like vegetable stew with dumplings,” Carmela said, bustling about the place as she arranged bowls and spoons. “There wasn’t much in your storage by way of meat, and I didn’t think you’d appreciate me using one of your hens.”
“It smells delicious,” Samuel said, hanging his hat on the edge of the chair. Then he sat down, his stomach tightening in anticipation.
Carmela ladled stew from the pot into the bowl in front of him, and the steam warmed Samuel’s face.
“Do you say grace in your home, Mr. Butler?” she asked in a sweet, almost teasing voice.
“I do now,” he said with a wink. He bowed his head and closed his eyes. Then he offered what had to have been the shortest prayer ever sent up to heaven.
When Carmela had said amen, Samuel wasted no time in digging into the soup. The stew tasted even better than it had smelled. He looked up at Carmela after swallowing the first spoonful. “Will you marry me?” he asked.
She laughed, but her face pinked, and Samuel realized that he was more serious than he had thought. Carmela had been willing to marry his brother sight unseen. So, perhaps a marriage proposal from himself wouldn’t be so out of the ordinary.
“You’re just hungry,” Carmela said, her laughter fading into a smile. “Hunger will do strange things to a man.”
Samuel could only nod since he’d shoved another spoonful into his mouth. The dumplings were something else. “All I can say is that, if you opened your own café, you’d give Mrs. Smith some tough competition.”
“She seems like a nice lady,” Carmela said, starting to eat her own stew.
“She also takes in lady boarders like the school teacher, Miss Delany, and Lydia Stone, the secretary of the mine owner.”
Carmela arched her brow. “Single ladies? I would think they’d be married in no time at all in this town.”
“Perhaps they will be,” Samuel said. “Although, none of them are as sweet and as pretty as you.” He didn’t know why he was laying it on so thick, but it was as if his mouth was running faster than his mind.
Carmela’s face pinked again. “You are certainly complimentary today, Samuel.”
He felt his own face redden and wondered whether she would laugh if she knew his true thoughts— about her. He continued eating, wishing that he could keep this moment wrapped up so that he could open it later, when she was gone, and relive it.
“I wouldn’t mind having you sleep in the house tonight, Samuel,” she said in a soft voice. “It appears that we’ll have another rainstorm.”
He looked up at her in surprise and saw that she was gazing out the windows. The clouds had darkened, and the tree was bent with the wind.
“Although, I’ll be comfortable enough out here,” she continued. “You should have your room back.”
Samuel shook his head as Carmela met his gaze. “You will need your sleep if you’re catching a train tomorrow.” He held her gaze and almost wished she’d say that she had changed her mind. Just then, the rain started. Carmela laughed, and Samuel joined in.
With his stew and dumplings finished, Samuel helped Carmela clean up, even though she tried to shoo him away. Then he built a fire to keep out the damp air, which was seeping now into the house. He figured that he needed something to do. Otherwise, he might find himself following Carmela around.
Chapter Ten
The thunder rippled overhead, and Carmela nearly jumped out of bed to run into the front room. But I am a grown woman, not a little girl, scared of a storm. And besides, Samuel is probably sound asleep. She’d never had anyone enjoy her food as much as he had, not to mention the compliments he continued to pay her throughout the night. For a few unguarded moments, she had even thought he might be interested in her… really interested.
But she had talked herself out of getting such foolish notions, which would only break her heart. When morning came, she’d have to say good-bye and would never see him again.
The small bedroom flashed bright with lightning, and Carmela braced herself for the thunder that would surely follow. When it did, it sounded as if it were directly over the house. She gave a little yelp and burrowed more deeply into the covers.
“Are you all right?” a voice said from the doorway, startling her yet again. “Carmela?”
“I’m fine,” she said, but she knew that her voice sounded weak and unconvincing.
“Come here.”
This wasn’t really a command or a request, but Carmela didn’t need to hear it twice. She gathered the quilt about her and climbed off the bed, following Samuel into the front room, where he’d stoked the fire into a nice blaze. She stood in front of the hearth, feeling the heat radiating on her face. Then she closed her eyes, relishing in the warmth and comfort the simple fire brought.
“Better?” he asked, standing behind her.
She didn’t know how close he was standing, but his voice was low and mellow. She i
magined him wrapping his arms about her waist and how she would lean back against him. But that wouldn’t happen, she thought. She was leaving the next day for Boston, and he’d remain here, on his Colorado homestead.
She released a sigh at the turn of events that had brought her here. She had been so focused on Gideon that she’d never considered that everything might change. But changed it had.
Then Samuel rested his hand on her shoulder, and she nearly startled again.
“Are you warm?” he asked.
“Yes.” This response came out as a whisper. He lifted his hand, and the pressure and warmth from his touch was gone all too soon.
She didn’t want him to step away but wanted to remain in the cocoon of his presence. How could she have come to desire this man after such a short acquaintance? she wondered. As the fire crackled before her, its popping sounds mimicked the thumping of her heart. Another crash of thunder came, but this time she didn’t jump, and she only pulled the quilt tightly about her.
What would Samuel do, she wondered, if she confessed that she was coming to care for him? That, despite the unsavory run-in with Johnson, everything else about this stop in Leadville had been made wonderful… because of Samuel? She had enjoyed talking to him, had relished in his interest, had blushed at his compliments, and had felt valued and cherished for her opinions and forthright nature.
What would he do if she told him she didn’t want to leave on that train?
“Do you want something to drink?” Samuel’s voice echoed in the quiet room.
He was still there, standing close to her. So she turned to face him, wishing she had the courage to tell him of her growing feelings. But, what if he rejected her, laughed at her? Why would any man want a woman who’d been fool enough to agree to marry a man such as Gideon?
“All right,” she said. “But I’ll get the tea. It will give me something to do.”
She turned toward the kitchen area just as he tried to step to the side. So Carmela bumped into him, and, because her arms were bundled up in the quilt, she swayed off balance. Samuel reached out to steady her, grasping her by the shoulders.
She couldn’t help her next actions, being so close to him that she could feel his warm breath touching the top of her hair. She raised up on her feet and whispered, “Samuel.”
He didn’t speak but merely tightened his grip on her shoulders and lowered his face until his lips brushed against hers. This was the barest of kisses, but it felt like a fire had been lit inside of her, burning hotter than the fire in the hearth only a couple of paces away.
She released the quilt, and, as it fell to the floor, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Samuel’s lips met hers again, taking possession of hers as his hands moved to her waist, drawing her body flush with his.
She kissed him back, knowing that he might think less of her now. First, she was willing to marry his brother sight unseen, and now, she was kissing him. But her worries spun away as Samuel moved his mouth against hers, seeming to want her as much as she wanted him.
“Carmela,” Samuel said in a breathless voice, breaking away from her.
It took her a moment to open her eyes and gaze up at him. Was he angry? Disgusted? Or embarrassed? she wondered. But she saw nothing in his eyes except for the same intensity that she felt in her heart.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m not a wanton woman.”
“I know,” Samuel said in a whisper, tracing her cheek with his finger. “You’re a beautiful, kind, and intelligent woman, but we need to talk.”
She lowered her eyes, unable to gaze into those blue eyes of his. Had she just ruined his opinion of her? Was it too good to be true that he might possibly return her affections?
“Carmela,” he said, grasping her hands gently. “Look at me.”
She exhaled and looked up, dread pounding through her body. He would lecture her, and then she’d be on the train tomorrow, making Leadville, Colorado, a surreal memory.
“I know that how we met was unconventional,” he began.
She wanted him to rush through his speech, to get it over with, and then she could return to the bed and curl up under the quilt until daylight arrived.
“But I don’t want to you go back to Boston,” he continued.
Her head snapped up, and she stared at him. “What?” she breathed, hardly daring to believe that he was saying what she had hoped for.
“Stay here with me,” he said in a rush. “Marry me, Carmela Domeneca Rosalia Callemi, and make me a happy man. I know I don’t have much of a home yet. But, with the two of us, we can accomplish great things.”
She placed her hand on his chest. “You remembered my full name?”
“I remember every word you’ve spoken to me,” he said, covering her hand with his.
“And… you want me to marry you?” she asked. It was almost impossible to believe. “Why?”
His brows furrowed slightly. “Because I adore you more than I ever thought it would be possible to adore a person. And, I haven’t slept all night for the dread of sending you away forever.”
Her breath caught. “Are you in earnest, truly?” she asked.
That smile of his was back, and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. “I’ve never been more serious about anything,” he said. “We could have the reverend marry us tomorrow. What do you say, my sweet Carmela?”
Her heart thudded once— then twice. She knew she would always be safe with this man, and she realized that she too adored him. So she placed her hands on his shoulders and tilted her face up. “I will marry you, Samuel Butler.”
He laughed, pulling her against him, kissing her forehead, her cheek, her neck, and, finally, her lips.
Click on the covers to visit Heather’s Amazon author page:
Heather B. Moore is a USA Today bestselling author. She writes historical thrillers under the pen name H.B. Moore; her latest is Finding Sheba. Under Heather B. Moore, she writes romance and women’s fiction. She’s one of the coauthors of The Newport Ladies Book Club series. Other works include Heart of the Ocean, The Fortune Café, The Boardwalk Antiques Shop, the Aliso Creek series, and the Amazon bestselling Timeless Romance Anthology series.
For book updates, sign up for Heather’s email list: http://hbmoore.com/contact/
Website: www.hbmoore.com
Facebook: Fans of H.B. Moore
Blog: http://MyWritersLair.blogspot.com
Twitter: @HeatherBMoore
Chapter One
Idaho Territory, April 1880
Caleb Walker stared at the older woman sitting in front of him, his initial disbelief rapidly developing into full-blown anger.
“You cannot be serious, Mother,” he said.
Eliza Walker rose from her rocking chair beside the cabin’s stove. “I’m completely serious, Caleb. The young lady arrives in Birch Creek by train this afternoon.” She raised the letter in her hand. “See for yourself.”
Giving the letter’s cream stationery with its decidedly feminine penmanship nothing more than a passing glance, Caleb ran his fingers through his thick, dark hair and forced himself to take a deep breath. Taking out his frustration on his mother would not help; wringing his younger brother’s neck, however, might solve a great many things.
“Does Jake ever think before he acts on any of his harebrained ideas?” he asked, still trying to come to terms with his brother’s latest activities.
“This idea wasn’t completely without merit,” Eliza said, placing a placating hand on Caleb’s arm.
“Mother!” Caleb could barely contain his exasperation. “No good man should begin a correspondence with a woman, offer to marry her sight unseen, send her a ticket to the middle of nowhere in Idaho Territory, and then, less than two weeks before she arrives, leave town to make his fortune at a silver mine hundreds of miles away.”
Eliza frowned, concern lining her weathered face. “I daresay you’re right. But he only had a couple days’ no
tice on the silver mine claim, and I’m pretty sure he wrote to tell her he was leaving. Perhaps, with the winter storms as bad as they’ve been this year, his letter got held up.”
Caleb stared at her incredulously. “So, you’ve known about this mail order bride of his all along?”
Eliza moved over to the cupboard on the other side of the small room, took out two mugs, and placed them on the wooden table. “I knew he’d placed an ad in one of those newspapers back East,” she said, lifting the coffee pot off the stove and beginning to pour. “I confess, I had my doubts that anything would come of it. But, seeing as how there’s not too many eligible young ladies hereabouts and that the few who do live close enough to consider courting seem to have settled on other suitors, I understand why he did it.”
She glanced over at her son with an expression of sympathy, and an all too familiar ache filled Caleb’s chest. Despite his best efforts to prevent the lingering hurt from showing, his mother must have seen something in his face because she quickly looked down and resumed talking.
“He has exchanged one or two letters with this girl,” she said.
Caleb rolled his eyes. “You don’t decide to get married after sharing only one or two letters!”
“I know it’s not what you would have done,” she said, “but Jake’s always been the more impulsive of the two of you.”
“Yeah. And from his hauling home that brown bear cub, when he was five, to heading off on this latest wild goose chase at the newest strike-it-rich silver mine in the territory, I always get to be the one left to deal with the problems his lack of common sense leaves behind.”
Caleb began pacing back and forth, his long stride crossing the room in five or six steps. “I won’t do it again,” he said. “Jake’s on his own this time. He created this mess; he can fix it.”
Eliza waited until Caleb had reached the table again before handing him a mug filled with steaming coffee. “I know you’re mad at your younger brother right now, and I understand your reluctance to get involved,” she said, picking up the discarded letter and opening it. “But, there’s someone else we have to think about this time. You and I both know that we can’t leave that innocent girl sitting at the train depot all by herself.”