Always, Wyeth (Three Rivers Express Book 3)

by Reina Torres

  As the stage clattered over the wooden bridge, Tillie was excited to see two bare blond heads poking out of the windows on the north side of the stage.

  Then the waving started. And as the stage began to slow and the thunderous clatter of the hooves began to quiet, she heard two excited voices crying out from the stage. “Tillie! Tillie! Is that you!?”

  With her hands, she urged the two to go back inside the coach. “Get your things ready,” she told them, “so we can get you settled as soon as they open the coach.” The children disappeared as she heard the brake set and saw the ends of one set of reins drop down beside her.

  “What a racket!” Mr. Clemens stepped down from the drivers bench and dropped down to the ground beside her.

  She laughed at him. “Don’t the horses always make that much noise?”

  “I think, Mr. Clemens meant my children, Tillie-dear.” The coach door opened under the shotgun rider’s practiced hand and two little ones spilled out of the door like water through a sluice. Stepping out behind them was none other than Jane Bowles.

  All three of the family members that stood before her were easily recognizable as Wyeth’s. Sharing variations of the same coloring, it was the spark of life and laughter in all of their eyes that drew Tillie forward.

  “I’m sorry that Wyeth couldn’t be here. He was called up to take a route for a sick friend.”

  Jane took one look at the hands that Tillie held out in greeting and stepped forward to wrap her arms around her instead. “My dear, my dear.” Jane hugged Tillie so tight that the younger woman felt quite out of breath. She also felt a distinct stab of joy through her heart. She felt accepted.

  She felt loved.

  And when Jane loosened her hold, she didn’t let Tillie go. “She just stepped back enough to get a good look at her from head to toe.

  Tillie held her breath, wondering if somehow, she wouldn’t measure up to a mother’s hope for her son.

  “My goodness, you are quite lovely.”

  Two little faces appeared beside her skirt. William, Wyeth’s younger brother looked from Tillie to his mother. “I thought you said her name was Tillie, not Lovely.”

  Little Willa, the youngest of the Bowles family, rolled her eyes at her brother. “Her name is Tillie. Mama just said she was pretty.”

  William was lost again. “I thought she said Lovely. I didn’t hear Pretty.”

  Willa set her fists on her hips and drew in a long fortifying breath, but Tillie didn’t want them to fight, not right at that moment. She gave into her instinct and a curiosity that she had always harbored in the long lonely days when she’d wanted a big family, and before Willa could answer her brother again, Tillie leaned down and wrapped an arm around each of the children and gathered them close.

  Not wanting to be left out, the children returned her enthusiastic hug, and soon, Tillie was gasping. “Goodness, you two hug just like your Mama!”

  William was the first to ease back and look up at her. “Do we hug like Wyeth, too?”

  Tillie’s mouth popped open in shock.

  Jane easily came to the rescue. “William Wyland Bowles, you know better than to ask a woman about what she does with her beau.”

  William’s mouth snapped shut and Willa’s mouth opened. “Well, if he’s her beau and not yet her husband, then they best not be doing anything. Right, Mama?”

  Mr. Clemens tried to laugh quietly behind Tillie’s back. “Are you sure you’re ready for a big family, Miss Weston?”

  Turning to look at the driver, she linked her fingers through Willa and William’s and grinned back at him. “Very ready, Mr. Clemens. Very ready, indeed.”

  That night, Wyeth was only too happy to excuse himself from eating in the bunkhouse and take a few extra steps up to the Hawkins’ house. He made sure to knock any dirt from the soles of his boots before he stepped inside. He hadn’t so much as opened his mouth to greet everyone when two little ones bolted for him and nearly knocked him down to the ground.

  It wasn’t even the strength of their playful attack that rocked him back on his heels. “You’re both so grown!”

  William nodded his head with pride. “I’m taller than Willa by almost two inches!”

  Not to be outdone, Willa piped up. “But I can write a good hand, and I can read faster than William!”

  Wyeth gathered one up in each arm and hugged them tight. “No matter what,” he told them, “I love both of you so much that I might not let you go for hours!”

  That’s when William started to wiggle, making him slip a little from Wyeth’s hug.

  “Hey now, careful there. What’s the hurry, boy?”

  William ceased his struggle and looked up at his brother. “If you hold us for hours, how will I eat?”

  Anna giggled at the table. “No denying he’s your brother, Wyeth!”

  After supper when Wyeth walked his family back to the boarding house, he gave Tillie a gentle kiss before watching her walk up the stairs to the second floor. He stood there for moments after she’d journeyed out of sight until his mother cleared her throat. “If you like,” she chuckled, “we could speak tomorrow.”

  Wyeth shook his head. “What I need to say,” he explained, his voice and his eyes somber, “I need to say tonight.” Crossing to the chair beside his mother’s, Wyeth sat down beside her and took her hand in his. “Thank you, Mama, for making Tillie feel as if she’s already a part of the family.”

  “Oh, goodness!” She laughed and gave him a mother’s indulgent smile. “She became a part of the family the moment you fell for that dear girl. You’ve nothing to thank me for.” She leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “But I’ll thank you when you tell me that I’m to be a grandmother for a second time.”

  He felt his cheeks warm and gave his mother a wincing grin. “All in due time, Mama. All in due time. My first concern is tomorrow at the wedding.”

  His mother stilled beside him. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

  “It’s Mr. Weston, Mama. I would have thought that he’d have come to his senses by now. Tillie is his only child, and after he turned her down to her face, she wasn’t going to ask again.”

  “But you did, didn’t you?”

  Wyeth shifted on his chair and nodded. “I stopped by the bank the other day. I told him I’d do anything to get him to come to the wedding, just so Tillie could have him there.”

  Jane sucked in a breath and then let it out again. “What did he have to say to that?”

  Shrugging, Wyeth sighed. “Exactly what I hoped he wouldn’t say. That I’m the reason why they don’t talk, but I’m not going to give up Tillie, Mama. I’m not!”

  “Of course not.” She soothed him with a soft touch along his arm, repeating the gesture a few times before she took his hand again. “You can’t give up on the love between you, Wyeth. That precious girl loves you inside and out.”

  “And I love her just as much, Mama. She’s my heart.”

  A soft smile lit up Jane’s eyes. “Where has my little boy gone? You were always too funny by half. Silly and sunny and always made people laugh.” She lifted a hand to touch her fingers to his cheek. “You’re all of that, Wyeth, but there’s a deep strength to you now. There’s a gentleness about you when you’re near Tillie. If I had any doubts about you two, just one look at the two of you together would have erased all of that.”

  He nodded. “I think pretty much everyone in town can see it, Mama.”

  “Everyone but Mr. Weston.” She sighed and lost herself in thought for a moment. Wyeth sat there beside her, enjoying the time with his mother. When she finally stirred, she squeezed his hand tight and met his eyes. “I know just what to do, son. I can’t guarantee anything,” she explained, “but I can try.”

  “Thanks, Mama. That’s all I can ask, and I’ll be very grateful no matter what.”

  She grinned. “I know you will, sweetheart. You are going to go and get some rest. In the morning, I’m going to see what I can do about this grump before he mak
es his darling daughter cry. You need to promise not to worry about it and just think about marrying your lovely Tillie.”

  “Now that,” he grinned at her and turned their hands so he could hold tight to hers, “is easy to promise since I think about her nearly every minute of the day.”

  Jane stood, and Wyeth led her to the door, holding it open for her to enter.

  He closed the screened door slowly after her, telling her one last thought. “I love her, Mama, because you and Papa showed us how to love every day you were together.”

  Pausing on the bottom step, Jane turned, and he saw bright smiling tears in her eyes. “Wyeth Bowles,” she playfully scolded him, “you say the sweetest things.”

  “You know I mean them, Mama.”

  She nodded. “Yes, you do… because you’re just like your father. All heart and soul. Goodnight, my son.”

  Wyeth stood outside the door until he heard her door close behind her.

  Chapter 14

  The knock at the door was a bit of a surprise for George Weston. He was so sure that Ottille was stubborn enough to go through with her folly, but a quick look to the clock standing against the wall told him another story. Maybe, just maybe, his daughter had seen through her silly sentiments and that boy’s pretty words.

  He was still angry at her, especially after Wyeth had visited him in person to ask him to attend their wedding. He’d sent that boy running. He’d told him that the last place he would be was anywhere near her misguided wedding.

  Another knock on the door was followed by a muttered curse under his breath.

  Pushing himself up from his chair, he crossed to the front door, his strides clipping across the hard-wood floor. “Well, don’t tell me you came to your senses and-”

  He stopped short and looked at the little woman standing on the porch. Her wheat-gold hair put him on edge, but it was her snapping grey eyes that turned his stomach upside down and inside out. She was the feminine version of her son. “Mrs. Bowles, I presume?”

  “Presume away, Mr. Weston. You’ve done more than your share so far. Why stop now?”

  He felt the censure in her voice, and he barely met the challenge in her eyes. “I will do what is necessary to protect my daughter.”

  “All you’ve done so far is put your daughter in one precarious position after another.” She looked down at the young boy that stood beside her, holding onto the hand of a girl almost a head shorter than he was. “William, take your sister and sit down on the step until Mr. Weston and I have a few words.”

  “Just a few, ma’am?”

  Jane Bowles’ head turned to look at him, swiveling on her shoulders like an owl.

  Young William’s eyes opened wide and the little girl beside him managed to stop herself after one giggle. William cleared his throat and tugged his sister toward the steps. “He’s in for some trouble, Willa.”

  George watched the two children set themselves down in the shade of his porch. Reaching into his pocket, the little boy pulled out a length of string and tied it into a circle. His little sister was instantly enraptured by the sight and he and their mother were forgotten as they stood in the doorway of his home. Clearing his throat, he turned to look at their mother and found her eyes focused on his face. It was, in a word, awkward. Or uncomfortable. But in no way was he under the misconception that Mrs. Bowles felt any gentle feelings toward him.

  “If you’re here to ask me to attend your son’s wedding,” he started in rather than giving her the upper hand, “then you have made the trip across town for no reason. I have no intention of standing up for this ridiculous ceremony.”

  For a moment, he thought he’d made some impact on the woman standing before him. Her eyes closed just the littlest bit as if the light from inside the house was too much for her eyes. And then he saw the truth; she wasn’t wincing from him. No, Mrs. Bowles was disappointed in him.

  “When you married Tillie’s mama,” she began, and he felt his middle twist up even more, “what did her family think of you?”

  George swallowed and the sudden pain in his throat had nothing to do with his anger or his frustration. “Her people didn’t like me. Her father thought I’d never amount to much. I was the youngest son and the last to join the family business. She had better offers, men with bright futures.” He turned his gaze away for a moment; he hadn’t intended to say much at all, let alone admit the truth that had just slipped free from his lips.

  “And your wife? What did she think?”

  Unbidden tears pricked at the backs of his eyelids, and protestations of dust fell silently on his lips. “She stood by me. She took my hand and told her father that he was wrong about me. She told her mother that I was the best man she’d ever known.”

  Mrs. Bowles smiled at him, and that alone knocked him a little more off-center.

  “Well, it humbled me. The look in her beautiful eyes as she told the minister that she’d have me for her husband,” his words failed him for a moment. Then slowly, he found the hard wood floor beneath his boots and lifted his gaze to meet Mrs. Bowles’ curious expression. “I have never felt that kind of trust before or-”

  Again, he stopped. His thoughts had hit a wall. A wall that he did not want to admit to.

  But Mrs. Bowles was a shrewd woman. She had seen more than he’d hoped, and she’d understood more of it than he was comfortable with. “You were going to say?”

  He decided not to hide from her. The time for that had passed by him the instant he’d opened his door to Wyeth’s mother. “When Ottille was born,” again, he felt something scratch at his throat, “her mother was so weak after they delivered our girl that she couldn’t hold her in her arms. I sat beside her with Ottille in my arms, and Mary leaned over to touch her lips to the soft hair on our daughter’s head. When she settled back against the pillows her eyes closed for the last time. I wanted to tell her to wake up, to shake her until she looked at me with those eyes of hers and told me with a look that she trusted me to care for our daughter.”

  Mrs. Bowles remained silent, but he heard the soft tremble of laughter from the children on the porch and felt his heart constrict in his chest.

  “But she didn’t. She’d given her last bit of energy to give our daughter a kiss that would suffice for a greeting and a farewell.” He managed to swallow down a bit of the regret that lodged in his throat. “Ottille offered up a cry, and I stood from the bed and moved to the window to give her a breath of air that didn’t have a tinge of death. And when I moved the curtain aside the early morning sun spilled in. I looked down at my little girl,” his voice was barely a whisper, “and I saw the look in her eyes. Her mother’s eyes, so full of trust. And I decided that I would be worthy of it. That I would give her a future that didn’t include the trials that I’d put her mother through.”

  “But your wife,” Mrs. Bowles stepped closer and touched his arm, “what would she have said of those trials, of the challenges that you faced together?”

  He wanted to say what he felt. He wanted to say that she looked at him with regret and worry and disappointment, but he didn’t want to disrespect his wife by lying now. Even if it was only to himself. “No matter how difficult things were between us in the six years we lived as man and wife,” he drew in a breath and ordered his thoughts, “she was the one who carried us through in the darkest times. Her quiet strength, her soft smiles when I was but a step away from giving up and crawling back to my family to beg for their assistance, she was the one who would be the true strength in our relationship. She was the rock that I could hold on to when the world tried to knock me off of my feet.”

  Mrs. Bowles nodded with a soft smile on her lips. “It was much the same with my Sam, Mr. Weston. I lost him a few years ago, and when the times are tough, I remember his words before he passed. ‘You keep moving one foot in front of the other, Jane. I’ll be the one behind you, holding you up in the storm.’” She sighed, and the soft feminine sound sent a shiver up his spine. That she loved her husband still w
as easy to see, and he felt the same for Mary, even after all of these years. “If you think my son a fool because of his actions, I can see how that might seem to be the truth, but what you don’t understand is that Wyeth was a quiet child who barely spoke a word. Elizabeth, my eldest, was a warm and bright child with an easy smile and manner. Wyeth was the serious one who watched the world around him in wonder. When my Sam took ill, Wyeth was the one thrust into the role of man about the house. He worked hard, smiled more, and found a way to make himself the fool to lift all of our spirits.” Her face told him that as she spoke, she relived moments of her life and he understood the feeling. “I thought you should know that Wyeth has sent money home to me twice a month since moving away to work for the express. For all of his joking and his easy manner, my son has a strong connection to family, and he takes what he sees as his duties with a genuine devotion.” She shifted closer, leaning forward on the fronts of her boots. “Wyeth has written me of his love for your daughter, and the clear message of his words brought tears to my eyes and joy to my heart.”

  The solemn chime of the standing clock turned both their heads.

  Mrs. Bowles spoke first. “I thank you for your time, Mr. Weston. William?”

  The boy scrambled to his feet and gave her a big grin that displayed at least one missing tooth on the upper part of his jaw. “Yes, Ma?”

  “We’re off to the church.”

  The little girl rushed forward to take her mother’s hand. “I can’t wait to see Tillie in her pretty dress, Mama.”

  “Me too, Willa.” Mrs. Bowles took her daughter’s hand, but she looked up at George instead. “Maybe Mr. Weston will walk with us.”

  The thought obviously pleased the younger girl. She looked up into his face and held out her hand. “Let’s go, Mr. Weston.”

  George looked at each of the three in turn. “I’m not sure I’ll be welcome,” he explained. “Maybe it’s best if I stay here and talk to Ottille later.”