She didn’t say “I love you” back, but she lifted her lips so sweetly that he captured them in a kiss.
A door opened and the couple sprang apart.
“Millicent Ethel Cain!”
Millie’s mother had arrived.
Chapter 10
Millie sprang away from Wes like a jackrabbit escaping a snake, but the kiss could not be undone, nor the color in her cheeks, or her tears on Wes’s shirt—or in Mother’s unexpected, unwanted early arrival at the church.
Mother barked a command as she marched across the floor. “Sit.” They both obeyed without a word. Had she undone all of her mother’s good feelings toward Wes by her rash act?
“I cannot believe what I just observed. That my own daughter would participate in such scandalous behavior, in the house of the Lord.”
Millie opened her mouth to defend Wes. The words froze in her throat at Mother’s look.
She stood between them, looking from one to the other. “I am not blind. I was young once, and I am aware of the looks my daughter sent your way, Mr. Wesley—”
Wes’s eyes widened at her use of his alias.
“—as well as the way you looked at her. It seems like yesterday that Dr. Cain and I felt much the same way.” Her expression softened. She had shown a certain affection for young lovers a few times in the past.
“But you have only known each other for three days. Three days.” With the repetition, she trilled the r. “Earlier this week, I told my daughter that even a cowboy could be a good man. After what I just observed, I have reversed my opinion. No gentleman would take advantage of a young girl.”
At that point, Mother faced Millie with her arms akimbo. “And you, Millicent. You told me yourself you had discovered proof that Mr. Wesley was not what he appeared, although you didn’t share the nature of your discovery with me. So how could you”—her cheeks turned bright red, as if she might have an apoplexy at any moment—“lose yourself to this man?”
Enough. Millie stood and looked straight at her mother. “‘Mr. Wesley’—”
Wes arched his eyebrows at her use of the name.
“—has explained himself to my satisfaction. Sit with us while I tell you what happened.”
The two women glared at each other. Millie trembled, but her love for Wes kept her upright. Reluctantly, Mother sat.
Millie began the story with Wes’s arrival in Wichita, pointing out how public disdain for “filthy white trash” had made Wesley Harper afraid to identify himself to her. But that in truth, Wes was Millie’s longtime correspondent. They had known each other for almost a year.
“That kiss was”—Millie searched for an appropriate word—“premature.”
Wes grinned, perhaps because she didn’t condemn the kiss.
“Premature!” Mother exploded. “That as good as announced your engagement.”
At that, Wes spoke up. “Your daughter knows my intentions are completely honorable. I came to Wichita with the intention of asking Mr. Cain for her hand in marriage.”
Millie’s hand flew to her mouth. He had never hinted of those plans in his letters.
“My intentions have not changed.” His smile blinded Millie, the light in his eyes warming her heart. He took his hat in his hand. “Mrs. Cain, Millie—with your permission, I will not attend class today. With the change of circumstances, I have much to do to prepare for the dance.” He bowed in Millie’s direction and held out a card. “Miss Millicent Cain, may I have the honor of the first dance tomorrow? And as many thereafter as etiquette will allow?”
“Yes.” Millie answered before Mother could refuse. “I would love for you to be my escort.”
“Then I shall arrive at your home in a timely manner. Here is the piano music I promised for Ruthie. I will bring the words tomorrow.”
He left, his long legs eating up the floor, silence following him out the door.
Mother didn’t move for a long moment. “If he does not speak with your father before Friday arrives, we will refuse him entrance.”
Millie didn’t answer. The card in her hand had left her breathless.
It read “Mr. Wesley Harper, Wichita Falls, Texas.” He had come prepared to explain himself today, if she hadn’t jumped the gun.
Wes kept his back straight and his legs strong until he passed the portal outside. At that point, his knees wobbled. Pull yourself together, man. He slapped his Stetson on his head—maybe sunshine made him light in his head. Next, he cinched his belt tighter. After he felt more stable, he strode away from the church.
On the way to the boardinghouse, he ran into Tex and T-Bone.
“Hey, boss, you’re heading in the wrong direction, aren’t you?” T-Bone hadn’t stopped grinning since Ellen agreed to accompany him to the dance.
“They know I’m not coming.” The weight he had shed climbed back on his shoulders, so he shared it with his friends. “Millie knows my secret. I’m heading to my aunt and uncle’s house.” He ached to run away before they could ask questions. “I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.”
They both looked concerned, and it eased Wes’s burden. If Millie said no, he could count on his friends to get him laughing so hard he’d forget about his pain, at least for a few hours.
If Millie said no, God would have a lot of healing to do.
Wes made his way to Dr. Cain’s office by way of the boardinghouse and the Harpers’ house. He should arrive in time to speak with the doctor before Millie and her mother returned from the class. After his discussion with Mrs. Cain, he wanted to settle things with Millie’s father before they returned.
Wes popped into the separate entrance at the side of the house, where the doctor kept his practice. Dr. Cain’s assistant, Miss Kimpel, had met him before. “Mr. Wesley. Don’t tell me you need Dr. Cain’s services?”
He leaned in closely. “Don’t tell him, but I am broken of heart and need his help.”
Miss Kimpel giggled. “He will see you next.”
As always when he was nervous, Wes tapped his toes and sang music in his head. Ten minutes passed before the door to the doctor’s inner office opened. A small boy dashed ahead of his mother. “Stay away from that cat next time.” When Dr. Cain spotted Wes, his eyebrows lifted. “Mr. Wesley, are you in need of my assistance?”
“Yes, sir.” Wes took a seat in the office and sent up a quick prayer. “I apologize for taking your time under false pretenses. I don’t have a medical issue, but I wanted to speak with you while the ladies were out of the house.”
Dr. Cain waved his concerns away. “I expected as much. Speak your mind, and then I may have some questions for you.”
Wes couldn’t ask for a man more receptive to his plea. He plunged in. “I am in love with your daughter, Dr. Cain. I want to ask her to be my wife. Before you say I hardly know her, I must tell you a story that doesn’t reflect well on me.” He explained the situation, of writing to his cousin’s friend, of the closeness of heart and faith they shared, but that he never mentioned his line of work.
Dr. Cain interrupted with his first question. “When you did not arrive on schedule, she was greatly disappointed. Why didn’t you introduce yourself at that time?”
Wes forced himself through the twisted story, ending with his confession to Millie earlier that morning. “Today I wish to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage, but first I am asking for your permission.” He held his breath as long as possible, waiting for Dr. Cain’s answer.
Dr. Cain didn’t smile, but he didn’t frown either. “Before I can answer that, I have a few questions for you. The most important of all: Is Jesus Christ both your Savior and your Lord? Are you committed to love Him and obey Him from now through eternity?”
Wes relaxed. “Yes, with all my heart, as much as I am able.” If only all the questions would be so easy.
“Although I am a doctor, I don’t expect my daughter to marry someone in a similar occupation unless she chooses to do so.” The doctor drummed his desk. “However, I do understand som
ething of business. Cowhands are almost at the bottom at the ranching business. I understand you are a foreman, supervising the other drovers. But I must know: Can you provide food and shelter and other necessities for my daughter and any children God sends your way? Do you have any plans to improve your situation?”
Wes should be thankful that Dr. Cain phrased the question so politely. He might be thinking, What kind of life would my daughter have married to a cowboy?
Fighting his habit to downplay his accomplishments, Wes looked Dr. Cain in the eye. “I know several foremen who live with their families in homes separate from the men. There is such a cabin available on the ranch where I am now working, where I could live with a wife.”
Dr. Cain didn’t speak. What was he waiting for?
Wes drew in a breath. “Over the past few years, I have built up a small herd of my own. I also have saved a small sum of money, planning to buy a ranch one day. I’m not able to buy one yet—”
“—and a family will increase your expenses.”
Wes cringed, but he continued. “That is why I would like to wait until next year for a wedding. After the next roundup, I expect to have enough money to buy a place for a wife and family.” He leaned forward. “Dr. Cain, I will provide your daughter with everything my heart and my hands can achieve, with the Lord’s blessing. Do I have your permission to ask for her hand in marriage?”
Millie saw Wes’s horse beside Father’s office upon her return from the church. Curious, she crept beneath the window, which he left open a crack.
She heard Wes’s plans for the future, for a ranch house for his family. She didn’t know much about keeping a house like that, but she would learn. Anything to be with Wes. What would Father say?
“I have one more question,” Father said. “Do you plan on living in Texas? Mrs. Cain would be heartbroken to live so far from her daughter.”
Millie caught her breath. Even if Mother objected, that shouldn’t prevent their marriage. As much as she loved Mother, if Millie had to choose, she would follow Wes.
Wes’s answer surprised her. “I had intended to. But there are a growing number of ranches in Kansas. I will look for a ranch close by here.”
“Then you have our permission to seek my daughter’s hand, under the circumstances we have discussed.”
Creaking leather told Millie the men were standing, and she scooted inside the house before anyone caught her. She took her usual seat in the parlor, hoping Father would come over to share the news. Instead, he returned at his usual hour and closeted himself with Mother for a quarter of an hour before dinner. Not a word was said about Wes until the meal ended. “Mr. Harper—”
When Millie looked up, surprised, Father said, “Yes, we know. Mr. Harper left an envelope with me to give to you. It has the words to the music you will sing tomorrow. All the information you need is contained in the instructions.” His lips twitched. “As well as the answers to all the questions you wish to ask me, I am sure.”
Millie retired to her room as soon as they finished dinner. Wes’s familiar handwriting, so unlike his spiky printed letters, filled the page.
Dearest Millie,
If you have received this letter, I have received permission from your Father to ask for your hand in marriage.
What does your heart say? Can you see yourself at my side, my partner, my love, building a life for ourselves and our children here on the western prairies?
Or has my past behavior and future prospects changed your mind about me?
I wrote two different sets of lyrics to my song. You may let me know your answer by the set you choose to sing.
Always your beloved,
Wesley Harper
Millie clenched the letter to her chest. Wes had asked to marry her—in a letter, the way they had first fallen in love. And he wanted her answer in song, her choice of two songs. Millie turned the page over to see the difference.
The song was titled “Yea or Nay.” A quick scan of the two versions showed three identical stanzas. She had to read it slowly to catch the difference in the last line of the song.
She could sing, “She would tell Wesley ‘yea.’”
Or she could break his heart by singing, “Or dash his dreams with ‘nay.’”
Her heart knew the answer. His proposal asked for a very public reply, but that didn’t bother her; she wanted to shout it to the skies. The hardest part was waiting until tomorrow.
The hours dragged by minute by minute until the dance began. She stayed hidden until she was certain Wes was present.
As she took her place behind the podium, the men and women sorted themselves around the circle in couples. No one looked forward to today’s lesson, eager for the fun to begin. What a surprise awaited them. No matter what etiquette dictated, she couldn’t wait a moment longer.
She smiled at the class. “In a departure from our norm, I will begin today’s session with a song written by our own Mr. H. J. Wesley Jr.—or, as many of you know him, Mr. Wesley Harper.”
Uneasy laughter greeted her announcement, and Mr. Brown and Mr. Robinson led in applause. Wes stood in appreciation, then waited, standing, for Millie’s choice.
She struggled to keep her face straight as she looked at him. “I won’t explain the song, only ask for your silence, for the one who wants to hear it most of all.”
From “Millicent Cain, the sweetest name,” every ear was attentive to the song. With each stanza, Wes moved one step forward, until by the last verse, he stood in front of her, blocking the view of everyone else present. Teasing him further, she repeated the first two lines of the third stanza before finishing the song.
“Would studious charm help bring them near?
She would tell Wesley ‘yea.’”
Wesley took her in his arms, while Ruthie continued playing the melody. They waltzed to the melody of love uniquely their own.
Award-winning author and speaker, Darlene Franklin recently returned to cowboy country—Oklahoma. The move was prompted by her desire to be close to her son’s family; her daughter, Jolene, has preceded her into glory. Darlene loves music, needlework, reading, and reality TV. Talia, a Lynx point Siamese cat, proudly claims Darlene as her person. Darlene has published several titles with Barbour Publishing.
A TEXAN’S SURPRISE
By Vickie McDonough
Chapter 1
Sherman, Texas
May 1878
Aloud shriek jerked Trey Carpenter from his dozing on the wagon seat. He yanked out his gun, and then relaxed and holstered it when he realized the racket was only the train whistle, signaling its approach to town. He stretched then lifted the reins, clicking to his team of horses to pick up the pace. With nothing to do on the long ride to Sherman, he often dozed while sitting on the wagon bench since his horses knew the way. Now that his ma was arriving on the train, he doubted he’d get much rest and relaxation for the next few weeks.
He smiled and shook his head at the comment his ranch hand Jess had made as he was hitching the team. “Your ma sure can cook good, but she can talk the rattles off a diamondback.”
Trey grinned, his belly rumbling at the thought of the flaky biscuits and tasty pies he’d be enjoying during his ma’s visit. Beans and corn bread got old when a man ate them most nights.
Guiding the wagon toward the depot, he noted smoke from the train rising above the roofs of the buildings. He’d timed things just about perfect.
He rubbed one ear. While he enjoyed his ma’s visits, his ears got plumb tuckered out listening to all of her chattering. He and the three men who worked for him rarely talked while tending to whatever task needed their attention the most—they just did it. If talk was needed, a grunt or two usually sufficed. But toss a woman in the mix and everything changed.
Blowing out a sigh, he parked the wagon then moseyed up the steps to the depot platform. The train belched and shimmied as it slowed. A large crowd waited. He found a spot toward the back of the group and peered over the heads in front of him,
searching the windows for his ma as the train stopped.
A dozen passengers poured off the train and found the folks that came to meet them. The crowd thinned to only people waiting to board, and Trey moved forward. Ma was usually one of the last to disembark. A young girl he guessed to be five or six hopped down the steps to the platform, followed by a pretty woman holding the hand of a younger girl. They moved forward a few feet, then the woman looked back. Trey’s heart lurched as he laid eyes on his ma. He rushed forward, took her satchel, and offered his hand, helping her to the ground.
“Oh, Jimmy. I declare, you get taller every time I visit.” Ella Carpenter hugged him.
Trey patted his ma’s back. Her hat—a feathery contraption with a bluebird resting in a patch of yellow, white, and purple flowers—tickled his nose. He tilted his head back to get away from it. “I’m the same height I’ve been since I was nineteen and quit growing, Ma.”
She patted his chest. “I know, dear. It’s just that when I’ve been away from you, I forget how tall and handsome you are.”
Trey flicked a glance at the pretty woman who stood nearby. His face warmed, and he hoped she didn’t overhear his ma’s babbling. He was sure his ma made it her aim in life to embarrass him. “I reckon you’ve got a trunk or two as usual?”
She stepped back. “Of course I do, but I have another surprise.” His ma motioned, and the woman with the two girls stepped forward, casting an anxious glance his way.
A niggle of wariness danced down Trey’s spine. Had his ma promised he’d give the woman and her girls a ride somewhere? Or maybe she just needed help getting her luggage loaded on a wagon or to a hotel. He didn’t mind helping someone in need, but he sure hoped Ma hadn’t already started matchmaking—her favorite task.
“This is Sadie Hunter. She’s the daughter of my very dear friend Paulette. You remember Paulette, don’t you, Trey?” She swatted her gloved hand in the air and smiled at the woman. “Of course he remembers your mama. I talk about her every time I’m here. Sadie, this here is my eldest son, James Ryland Carpenter, the third. Most people refer to him as Trey.”
The Cowboy’s Bride Collection: 9 Historical Romances Form on Old West Ranches Page 31