The Colorado Bride

by Mary Burton

  He gripped the reins tighter. Just once he’d like to slip into town without anyone noticing.

  Prudence hurried to the edge of the boardwalk. “You’re back.”

  “Yep.” Cole hugged Mac closer to him and kept his eyes trained ahead.

  Several other people noticed Cole and started to gather by the road.

  Gene Applegate hurried from his store, wiping flour from his hands onto his apron. “Thank heavens, you’ve returned. We didn’t expect to see you again. You are staying for good, ain’t you?”

  “We’ll see.”

  A half-dozen people trailed behind Cole, keeping pace with his horse’s slow gait. By the time they’d reached the barbershop, another dozen had joined the parade.

  Ernie Wade hurried out of the barbershop, his face half-covered with shaving cream. “You’re back.”

  Cole sat straighter. “Looks that way.”

  Wade’s eyes narrowed. “Couldn’t go it alone, could you?”

  Cole clenched his teeth and ignored Wade. More people followed him now. Children swung their schoolbooks as they skipped along, ladies whispered and giggled, and shopkeepers flipped their Open signs to Closed.

  Even under the best of circumstances, Cole hated choking down his pride and admitting he was wrong. Now he was about to do both with the whole town watching.

  * * *

  Rebecca’s head pounded and her eyes burned as she stood at the inn’s front window staring down the road toward the distant mountains. She still wore the calico she’d chosen for the picnic yesterday. Covered with streaks of black soot, it was now badly wrinkled.

  She didn’t care. Her mind, numb from a sleepless night and endless tears, still couldn’t believe that Mac was gone. Her baby.

  A clock ticked softly. The wind blew outside. Yesterday, laughter and the thunder of small footsteps filled the house. Now, the house was so miserably quiet.

  Fresh tears welled in her eyes. She’d never get over the loss of Mac. Never.

  She stared down the long, deeply rutted road and wondered where Mac was. Was he cold? Hungry? Did he miss her?

  Rebecca hugged her arms around her chest. The thought of living out her days without her son was intolerable.

  The sun climbed higher, casting an orange-yellow light over the jagged mountains. Rebecca placed her fists against her temples. She couldn’t bear the unanswered questions, just as she couldn’t bear the silence. She couldn’t go on like this. She needed answers.

  And in that instant, she knew what she had to do.

  She’d find Cole, Mac and Dusty wherever they were. She’d beg Cole’s forgiveness, do whatever it took to win his trust. She’d force him to understand why she’d lied about Mac. Somehow.

  She whirled around with nervous excitement. Her fingers tingled as blood pumped through her veins. It would take her time to pack. She turned toward the stairs, her mind reeling with a thousand details. She’d lock up the inn, mark it closed for business, and with the little money she had saved under her mattress, set out looking for her children.

  Rebecca’s foot was poised over the first step when she heard the horse’s whinny. Impatient now to be on her way, she turned, ready to send whoever it was away.

  She stumbled when she saw Cole, Dusty and Mac. The trio sat atop Cole’s black stallion, each looking saddle-weary as if they’d been gone weeks instead of a single night.

  Rebecca blinked, fearing her exhausted mind was playing tricks on her.

  Behind them stood most of the townspeople, staring at her and waiting for her reaction. She heard the nervous giggles of several women and saw money change hands between two cowhands.

  Dusty swung his leg over the saddle and jumped to the ground. He looked up at the house, a wide, toothy grin curving the edges of his mouth. “It sure is good to be back.”

  His words broke Rebecca’s trance and she raced out the door and down the steps and gathered Dusty in her arms, tears filling her swollen eyes.

  Mac started to cry, “Mama” and wiggled in Cole’s arms. Rebecca kissed Dusty on the cheek and hurried to Cole’s horse. She looked up at Mac and Cole, still not quite believing they were truly here. The sun shone behind the two. She was struck by how much Mac looked like his father.

  She reached up her hands and Mac slid into them easily. He smelled of campfire and his bottom was soaked, but as she held him, the fragmented pieces of her heart came together. Everything was right again.

  He cried, his tears mingling with her own and moistening her cheek. Staring over his head she looked into Cole’s eyes. He’d carefully shuttered his expression, but his jaw was clenched.

  “Thank you,” she sobbed.

  He scowled. “We’ve got some talking to do.”

  Not even the ominous tone of his voice dampened her high spirits. “Of course.”

  Cole swung his leg over the saddle and jumped to the ground. He touched Mac’s head gently with his hand. “Inside.”

  “Okay.”

  They turned to go in the house when Gladys Applegate stepped forward. “Wait just a darn minute, Cole McGuire. I think we’ve got a right to know what you’re doing back in town.”

  Rebecca glanced up at Cole’s profile, so hard and angry. Truth was, she didn’t want to be alone with Cole. She still wasn’t certain if he’d let Mac stay and she needed all the support she could get. “I know my neighbors well enough to know they’ll follow us inside.”

  Cole’s gaze slid over the crowd. He assessed every man and woman, until several folks shifted uneasily and dropped their curious gazes. “They wouldn’t dare.”

  He guided Rebecca, Mac and Dusty inside the front door. As he opened it, Mrs. Applegate stomped forward. “We’re gonna find out what happens in there sooner or later.”

  “Then it’ll be later,” Cole said as he kicked the door closed.

  Rebecca heard Mrs. Applegate’s sharp intake of breath before the door slammed shut.

  Rebecca led the boys to the kitchen. Her mind raced with thoughts and worries. She lifted Mac into his high chair and pulled a chair out for Dusty at the table.

  Cole leaned against the doorjamb, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at her. His forearms were deeply tanned and muscular. She sensed a change in him, an intensity that had not been there yesterday.

  She fought to remain calm, but her hands trembled as she sliced thick sections of bread and generously buttered each before she set a piece down in front of each boy.

  What was Cole thinking? She could feel his gaze bore into her. With deliberate slowness, she poured each boy a cup of milk, careful not to spill a drop.

  Cole waited until both children started eating. He then strode toward her. She took a step back, unable to quell her worry.

  Cole leveled his gaze on her. He glanced at Dusty who was wiping his plate clean with a chunk of bread. “I’ve decided to stay in White Stone.”

  Rebecca’s heart leaped. “That’s wonderful.”

  Cole’s face remained hard. He rubbed the darkened stubble on his chin. “You haven’t heard what I have to say.”

  Worry prickled her flushed skin. “What do you mean?”

  “I want to be a father to my son.”

  “I understand that.” Her mouth felt dry as cotton.

  “I want to be there every day when he wakes up and I want to put him to bed at night.”

  Her throat tightened. “I want that, too,” she whispered.

  “I figured that.” Fresh anger filled his eyes. “I wanted to be all he’d ever need. I wanted Mac and Dusty not to want you.”

  “But they do,” she said proudly.

  He scowled. “Taking them satisfied my taste for revenge, but it’s too hard on them. As much as I can’t abide the sight of you, I won’t hurt them.”

  A wrenching sadness gripped her heart. It shouldn’t matter what he thought of her, but it did. “What do we do?”

  The world slowed to a maddening pace. The clock in the hallway ticked. The boys chatted happily over their me
als. The voices of Mrs. Applegate, Prudence and a half-dozen other people drifted in from an open window. Several towns-people openly gawked at them.

  Cole muttered an oath. “You can’t swing a dead cat in this town without hitting a nosy neighbor.”

  She willed her shaking knees to relax. “No surprises there.”

  Cole thrust out a ragged sigh. Black circles marred the flesh under his green eyes. “It’s clear we both love the boys,” he stated.

  She hugged her arms around her chest. “Yes.”

  “A child needs a mother and a father.”

  “We can raise the boys together. I know it’s unorthodox—two single parents raising children—but we can do it.”

  He shook his head. “I won’t do that. I won’t have folks whispering about them.”

  “We’ll love them enough to make them not care.”

  Lines creased his forehead. “It won’t be enough.”

  She touched his hand, the one she’d bandaged yesterday. She wanted to forge a connection with him. “We can do this.”

  Venom filled his expression as he yanked his hand away. “If we’re going to do this right, then we do it married.”

  Rebecca’s heart kicked against the walls of her chest. She rocked back on her heels. “Married? But I’ve done fine without a husband up until now.”

  “We’re not playing it your way anymore. We’re doing it my way now.”

  Terror clenched her gut. “You don’t even like me.”

  “I’ll manage.”

  She took a step back. Her defenses slammed into place. “I won’t. After Curtis, I swore I’d never marry.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Not even for Mac?”

  Every drop of defiance drained from her. She’d do anything for Mac and he knew it. “You’re sentencing yourself to a lifetime of misery.”

  He shrugged. “Fifteen, sixteen years at the most. By then Dusty will be on his own and Mac will be grown. Then we’ll go our separate ways.”

  His callous manner stung. “We’ll make the children miserable.”

  “We’re both adults. We can put our feelings aside and see that they’re happy.”

  Years of endless tension and unspoken anger loomed before her. How could they possibly make the children happy under such circumstances? “Cole, it can’t work.”

  “If it doesn’t I’ll leave with Mac and Dusty.”

  “It didn’t work this time.”

  He shook his head. “I learn from my mistakes. Next time I won’t wrench him from you. I’ll take my time, wait until he’s gotten to know me, and then we’ll leave.”

  The knifing pain she’d endured last night returned in a flash. She was trapped.

  The back door slammed open. Gene and Gladys Applegate charged into the room. Slightly out of breath, their gazes darted between Rebecca and Cole.

  “Did I hear right, you’re willing to marry her?” Mrs. Applegate said.

  Cole clenched his jaw. “That’s right.”

  Mr. Applegate yanked off his hat. “And you’d stay in town and reopen the mine?”

  Cole nodded. “Yep.”

  Mrs. Applegate clapped her hands. “That’s wonderful!”

  Rebecca stared at Mrs. Applegate as if she’d lost her mind. “Don’t you understand? He hates me.”

  “Hate. Love. There’s a fine line between the two,” Mrs. Applegate said cheerily.

  Rebecca stared into Cole’s eyes, now calm as if he’d made his decision and was ready to act.

  Cole looked past her to Mrs. Applegate. “There a minister in town?”

  She nodded. “The circuit judge arrived last night, but he’s fixing to leave in a few hours.”

  “I just need him for five minutes.”

  Rebecca felt the walls closing in on her. She glanced at the door. “I need to be alone to think.”

  Cole grabbed her arm; his hard eyes drilled her. He wasn’t bluffing and they both knew it. “It’s now or never.”

  Rebecca looked at Mrs. Applegate, desperate for an ally. “I can’t do this.”

  Mrs. Applegate smiled. “Dear, it is the best solution for everyone. Think of the boys.”

  “We don’t love each other.”

  “Some of the best marriages don’t start off as a love match,” the older woman reasoned.

  “Real love grows with time,” Mr. Applegate added.

  Cole cursed. “Yes or no, Rebecca. I want an answer now.”

  The weight of her decision pressed against her chest. She glanced at Mac and Dusty who stared expectantly at her. Mrs. Applegate held her breath, while Mr. Applegate gripped the brim of his hat.

  “Yes or no,” Cole persisted.

  “I hate you,” she whispered.

  His lips curled into a smug smile. He’d won and they both knew it.

  “Yes or no.”

  “Yes.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rebecca glanced at the small Swiss clock that sat on the mantel above the fireplace in her room. It read 11:44. An hour had passed since Cole had declared they’d marry and only minutes remained before the judge arrived at the inn to perform the ceremony.

  It was her wedding day and she was miserable.

  Rebecca stared into the tall oval mirror in the corner of her room. She’d donned a freshly laundered green muslin dress and tied back her hair with a yellow ribbon. Her pasty cheeks looked sunken and hollow, and dark rings hung under her eyes.

  She turned from the mirror and sank down onto the edge of her bed. Bess had taken the children, declaring all brides needed a moment or two to themselves before the wedding. The house was quiet except for the steady thud of Cole’s pacing.

  Then his footsteps stopped and a silence descended over the house. Unnatural, the quiet reminded her that she’d lose her children without this marriage.

  Clutching damp palms together, Rebecca rose and walked to the window. She lifted the lace curtains and looked over her front yard, where dozens of townsfolk had gathered to witness the nuptials.

  The town women scurried about a buffet table they’d set under a large shade tree. The decision had been made to resume the interrupted Fourth of July activities of yesterday and turn Cole and Rebecca’s wedding into a party. Mrs. Applegate had marshaled the women in record time and put together a feast any bride would be proud of.

  The last time Rebecca had married, she’d eloped. There’d been no one present at the simple ceremony, and she and Curtis had spoken their vows without fanfare in the modest Denver vicarage. Still, Rebecca had been full of girlish excitement. Curtis had looked so dashing in his camel suit, lace cuffs and polished black boots. She’d had so much hope for the future.

  Now, only dread filled her heart.

  She knew how difficult life could be when a marriage went sour. She’d loved Curtis—or at least thought she had—and things had turned out miserably for them. So, what hope did she and Cole have when at the outset there was only distrust and bitterness?

  A loud knock on the door startled Rebecca from her thoughts. “Come in.”

  The door creaked open and Mrs. Applegate popped her head in. “You decent?”

  Rebecca rose. “Yes, I’m dressed.”

  “Splendid. You don’t mind a few visitors before the wedding do you?”

  Yes. “No.”

  “Good.” Mrs. Applegate’s ample bosom swayed as she bounded in the room, basket in hand. Prudence followed with an armful of flowers tied together with a white ribbon. “We’ve come to see that you’re properly outfitted.”

  Rebecca smoothed palms over her skirt. “I am ready.”

  Mrs. Applegate tittered. “All brides deserve a few finishing touches that make them special. It isn’t every day you get married.”

  Thankfully.

  “Now let’s have a look at that hair of yours,” Prudence said.

  Rebecca touched the curly strands. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

  “It should sit atop your head,” said Prudence. “Like a queen.”

  �
��I don’t feel much like a queen.”

  Prudence squeezed Rebecca’s icy hand. “I know and I’m sorry. If I’d held my tongue yesterday, your wedding day to Cole would have been a happy one and not so filled with anger.”

  Rebecca’s heart twisted as she stared into Prudence’s watery eyes. She couldn’t disguise her bitterness. “If you’d not spoken up, there’d never have been a wedding.”

  Mrs. Applegate snorted. “Oh, there’d have been a wedding between the two of you sooner or later. Even a blind man could have seen that one.”

  Rebecca glanced up, shocked. “Ridiculous.”

  “The man can’t keep his eyes off you. Everyone could see that.”

  “Cole hates me.”

  Prudence shrugged. “He wouldn’t be so mad if he didn’t care.”

  Mrs. Applegate winked. “Wounded pride. Men are like babies when you hurt their pride.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt him. I was afraid to trust him.”

  “We know, dear,” Mrs. Applegate said patting her on the shoulder. “I think it’s safe to say we all misjudged Cole McGuire.”

  “He’ll never forgive me.”

  “Men need to lick their wounds,” Prudence soothed. “He’ll forgive and forget. Give him time.”

  Rebecca doubted Prudence’s words, but didn’t have the chance to say so. Mrs. Applegate glanced at the clock. “Time! That’s one thing we don’t have much of. Cole was insistent that we have you downstairs at twelve noon sharp.”

  “Said he’d come and get you himself if you were a minute late,” Prudence said.

  “How romantic,” Mrs. Applegate cooed as she guided Rebecca in front of her full-length mirror. “I wish my Gene showed that kind of fire for me. Honestly, I think the man gets more excited about a clean house and a hot meal these days than he does me.”

  Prudence giggled as she laid her bundle of flowers on the bed. “Fresh laundry made my late husband go weak at the knees.”

  The women laughed as they arranged Rebecca’s hair. She let the banter drift above her head and wondered if there might be some hope she and Cole could one day build a happy marriage.

  She thought about the dance they’d shared only yesterday—the touch of his palm pressing into her back, the way his natural scent mingled with soap, and the hard feel of his chest as it grazed against her.