by Regina Scott
There was an edge to her words, as if trying to live up to his calling was somehow shocking. She’d known him since he’d attended divinity school at Harvard. What else would she have expected him to become but a minister?
“It’s all right,” Mrs. Tyson said, stepping back into the room. “I can stay a little longer. You go ahead, Margaret. I’ll join you for tea in a bit.”
With a nod, Mrs. Arundel sailed from the room, her feather high.
And he had a chaperone. He could have told Mrs. Tyson that she had no need for concern. Elizabeth Dumont would have no use for him even if he proposed marriage right then and there.
The older lady went over and clucked at the babies as Elizabeth moved to the dresser against the far wall and picked up one of the jars of applesauce crowding the surface. He was pleased to see the ladies of his congregation had been equally generous to the babies as they were to him. The gingham-topped jars of pears would be from Mrs. Dooley; he had a dozen like them at the parsonage. Betsy McKay had likely donated the stewed plums, the purple glinting in the light. For the triplets’ sake, he hoped the applesauce had come from Lula May McKay, for she was one of the best cooks and canners in the area, not to mention being the leader of the Lone Star Cowboy League.
Elizabeth came back to the high chairs carrying the jar and a silver spoon. Once, she’d presided over an entire table laden with silver and fine china and crystal. Her long red hair had been smoothed into a tight bun, and the emeralds at her ears and throat had called attention to her almond-shaped eyes. The smile she’d offered him across the table had been bright, eager, almost as if she couldn’t wait to learn more about him.
Now her smile seemed brittle as she reached for a wooden chair against one wall. Brandon hurried forward to lift it for her, positioning it in front of the high chairs. Mrs. Tyson nodded approval, but Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him as if suspecting he had ulterior motives.
What did she think he was going to do, pull it out from under her?
Putting her back to him, she perched on the chair. The sunlight from the window across from her blazed fire along her hair and made him wish he still had the right to touch the gleaming tresses.
Help me, Lord. I don’t know what I did to earn her wrath. Show me how to behave toward her.
Elizabeth remained focused on her charges. “All right, little bird,” she said to Jasper. “Open wide your beak.” She dipped the spoon in the jar and brought it closer to him. Jasper opened his mouth for the applesauce.
Theo reached for the spoon and ended up knocking it aside, splashing fruit across the chairs. Eli set up a howl.
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Tyson said. “Let me see if I can find something to clean that up.” She hurried to the dresser and began rummaging through the items left for the babies.
Elizabeth wiped applesauce off her cheek with one finger. “Well, that didn’t work.”
Brandon stepped forward and picked up the crying baby. “I’ll take Eli. Can you handle the other two?”
Her gaze snapped to his, and there was fire in those eyes. “Certainly, Mr. Stillwater. That’s what the Lone Star Cowboy League is paying me to do, remember?”
Of course he remembered. He’d been at the wedding when David McKay had made the suggestion. It was only right that David find some way to support Elizabeth, after she’d come all this way to marry him only to find him marrying another. The rancher had sent her a telegram telling her of the change in plan, but it had never reached her. Still, Brandon couldn’t help wondering why Elizabeth had agreed to marry David in the first place.
Now he merely nodded. “I meant would you prefer me to take Theo as well so you can focus on Jasper,” he said, moving back from the high chairs as much to separate Eli from the food as to distance himself from her anger.
“We’re fine,” she said, turning her attention to the two remaining babies.
“Babies can be such work, the little dears,” Mrs. Tyson put in with a commiserating look to Brandon. She bent to clean up the floor.
Elizabeth moved Jasper and Theo farther apart, then took turns feeding them a spoonful of the applesauce, her movements brisk and efficient. Mrs. Tyson hovered behind, ready to step in if needed. Brandon rocked Eli, the baby warm in his arms. As Eli’s cries quieted, he looked up at Brandon, trusting.
When had Elizabeth lost trust in him?
He’d thought them destined for marriage, partners for life. She’d been everything he could have dreamed of in a wife back then—caring, loving, generous. Even now, she cajoled the babies into eating, praised them for waiting to take their turns and set them to beaming happily. Their brother in his arms reached for her as if he simply had to get closer.
Brandon had felt the same way once. She’d been the one to break things off, to marry a wealthier, more socially prominent man, she’d said. Yet here she was, a mail-order bride of all things. Much as he loved Little Horn with its wide-open spaces and kindhearted people, the community was a far cry from the society she’d been raised in near Boston.
So what had happened to bring Elizabeth Dumont back into his life again?
Chapter Two
Elizabeth forced her shaking hand to steady on the spoon. How dare Brandon question her ability to care for the triplets? She was a good nanny, for all she had not imagined herself in the role. Anyone might have found three babies a little challenging.
Though, she had to admit, he looked remarkably comfortable dealing with the boys. He was rocking Eli back and forth, the baby gazing up at him as if he was the most important person in the world.
She’d looked at him that way once.
She would never forget the day they’d met. Her aunt Evangeline had been hosting one of her famous dinner parties. It was well-known around Cambridge that Mrs. Dumont, wife of the influential financier, welcomed only the most interesting people to her table, so an invitation was cause to preen. As her niece, Elizabeth had dined with senators, adventurers, novelists, artists and scientists. That evening, attendees around the white damask-draped table had included the mayor and his wife, a man who had invented some sort of circuit for conducting electricity, an award-winning poet and the dean of the divinity school with his most promising student.
Brandon Stillwater.
As the least most notable person in the room, besides her, he would have had every right to sit quietly, speak only when directly addressed. Indeed, he had been quiet the first part of the meal. Then the inventor, a Mr. Lombard, had begun a paean to man’s ingenuity.
“Why, even now, in New York, a pneumatic system brings warm air in winter and cool air in summer,” he boasted, the sleeve of his black dress coat coming perilously close to dipping into his creamed asparagus as he waved a hand.
“Amazing,” the mayor proclaimed. “We may have to rethink our futures, gentlemen. Science seems to have the upper hand.”
Brandon had merely offered them all a charming smile as he reached for his crystal glass. “I think I’ll stick with the Author of invention instead of the implementer.” And he’d calmly taken a sip as if giving them all a moment to think about what he’d said.
How could she not be drawn to such a man? He was only a year older than her, yet he seemed so confident, so sure of who he was and what he was meant to do. She’d envied him that.
“Ready for this little fellow?” he asked her now, smiling on the infant in his arms. She remembered how it felt to be cradled close, those strong arms around her, making her feel safe, loved.
Elizabeth scooped up a baby and shoved him at Brandon, anything to stop these memories. “Here,” she said. “I’ll take Eli. You take Jasper.”
If he was surprised by the urgency in her voice, he didn’t show it. But as they exchanged babies, his fingers brushed her sleeve and a tingle ran up her arm.
Why was she still so aware of him after all
these years? Even as she began to feed Eli, Theo watching them, she felt Brandon beside her. He held each baby so gently, every movement effortless. No other man had ever made her feel that she could rely on him no matter what.
A shame that feeling had turned out to be false.
She offered Eli another spoonful of applesauce, which he gobbled down. The men she had counted on had proven singularly unreliable. Her uncle, legendary for making fortunes, had been exposed as a swindler, stealing from clients to increase his coffers. The men who had flocked to her aunt’s table had quickly distanced themselves from scandal. The gentlemen who had seemed interested in courting her had followed suit. And Brandon...
Really needed to leave her room before she forgot herself and gave him a piece of her mind!
“You needn’t wait around, Pastor,” she said without looking at him. “The triplets and I are fine. We have Mrs. Tyson to help. You’ve done your duty by looking in on us.”
Mrs. Tyson smiled at her as she went to hang up the dirty cleaning rag. Brandon didn’t say anything, but his arm brushed her shoulder as he set Jasper back into the high chair. She turned without thinking, and her gaze met his. His silver eyes should have looked cold, forbidding, but now they drew her in like cool water on a hot day.
“Seeing to the well-being of those we care about is never a duty, Miss Dumont,” he murmured. “It is a privilege.” He held her gaze a moment longer, as if making sure she heard him. Such a heartfelt look, with his lips turned down in sympathy. She should agree, smile back. But she knew his tricks now. She was neither an awestruck girl nor a member of his flock who needed schooling. Elizabeth turned her face resolutely toward the babies. A moment later, she heard the door close behind her.
Mrs. Tyson came to lay a hand on her shoulder. “Pastor Stillwater is a good man. I’m sure he was only trying to help.”
Had she looked as if she was about to breathe fire at the minister? She certainly felt as if she could. Instead, Elizabeth gave the lady a bright smile. “But why should I trouble your pastor when I have all you lovely ladies to help?”
Mrs. Tyson’s round face turned a pleased pink. “We are delighted to help you, dear.” She bent and picked up Theo, whose eyes were already drifting closed. “Such darling boys. They make me miss my own sons.”
Elizabeth was almost afraid to ask, but it seemed the right thing to do. “What happened to your boys?”
Mrs. Tyson straightened slowly, then carried the baby toward the nearby crib. “They are grown men now. They had to leave to find work during the drought, but I have hopes they might return soon. In the meantime, if you need anything, please send word.” She laid Theo in the crib and smiled down at him a moment before helping Elizabeth transfer the other two into the crib as well. Then Elizabeth saw her out.
As she shut the door behind Mrs. Tyson, Elizabeth drew in a breath. At least that was over. Glancing back, she saw that all three boys had dozed off. In the silence, she could hear the clock ticking on the dresser.
Peace. Quiet.
Normally, that would be a blessing. Caring for the triplets was exhilarating and exhausting. She appreciated the moments when she could relax. But now all she could think about was Brandon Stillwater and the life she had once known.
Not for the first time, she wished Aunt Evangeline was still alive. Her aunt, who had raised Elizabeth after her parents’ death when she was a toddler, had always encouraged her to dream big.
“You could be an explorer, discovering new plants and animals,” she’d said, excitement dancing in her green eyes. “Or a novelist, unleashing the potential of the human heart. Only the best for you, my dear Elizabeth.”
Sometimes, sitting around the dinner table with people so famous and talented, she had thought she had found her calling, to be a society hostess like her aunt, bringing people together, sharing knowledge, encouragement. Other times, she wondered. Why must she be the one to listen to other people’s adventures? Why couldn’t she have adventures of her own as her aunt suggested?
Brandon had seemed to understand when she’d emboldened herself to confess her yearnings. After that first dinner, he had called whenever he could slip away from his studies. Studying, it seemed, wasn’t too difficult for him. They’d talk in her aunt’s opulent sitting room, take walks in the nearby park. They had been strolling beside an ornamental pond in the center of the park one Sunday afternoon when she’d told him she wished she might do something more.
“My brother, Bo, says the same thing,” he’d answered, bending to pick up a stone from the path and toss it into the pond.
She hadn’t met his brother yet. She hadn’t met anyone in his family, although she knew his mother had passed away and his father was an invalid. Aunt Evangeline said Mr. Stillwater senior was a fine gentleman who had run a prosperous business in Cambridge. Elizabeth had wondered why Brandon hadn’t introduced her, but she was certain it was only a matter of time.
“And what sort of adventures does your brother want to have?” she asked, lifting her green silk skirts away from a puddle in the path.
Brandon smiled. “He wants to move to Texas and build a cattle ranch. He’s been studying under a rancher here, and he thinks he’s ready to take on the frontier.”
“Like a cowboy in the dime novels?” Elizabeth grinned. “How marvelous! What could be more thrilling than fighting desperadoes to carve a home in the wilderness?”
Brandon tossed another rock in the pond with a plunk. “Well, the Texas Rangers make short work of any desperadoes, from what I understand. But Bo will certainly be carving at the wilderness.” He glanced her way. “He wants me to go with him.”
To Texas? The image that came to mind, of a woman in gingham skirts shooting her own dinner as she rode across the plains, was brave and bold and a little scary. She wanted adventure, but perhaps she ought to start with something more tame.
She’d linked arms with Brandon. “Too bad you’re already being considered for a position at St. Matthew’s. We can cheer your brother on from here. Just think how much fun it will be to sit around the hearth and read his postcards.”
She’d never dreamed necessity would drive her to this Texas town, or that she’d discover Brandon here as well.
She went to the window now and gazed out at Little Horn. The boardinghouse was near the end of Second Street, with the church and school among the buildings opposite. She could see the doctor’s house between them. Louisa, the doctor’s daughter who had first cared for the triplets, had married Brandon’s brother, Bo. The two men were twins, it seemed. Why hadn’t she known that? Why hadn’t she been good enough to meet his family?
Why hadn’t she been good enough to be his wife?
She could still see Florence’s face as her friend had relayed the hurtful message a few days after the scandal about her uncle had become common knowledge.
“He releases you from any agreement you might have thought the two of you had,” she’d said, pretty face scrunched as if she’d felt Elizabeth’s pain. “As a minister, he must protect his reputation. He hopes you’ll understand.”
But she hadn’t. He’d claimed to love her. Though he hadn’t proposed yet, he’d given her every indication that he would do so soon. They’d shared a tender kiss that had left her breathless.
She was still the same person, for all her uncle had been sent to prison, his properties foreclosed to pay off those he’d swindled. Why must she be punished for his actions?
She’d wanted to go to Brandon, beg him to reconsider. If there were those who would condemn him for associating with the family of a convict, surely there were others who would praise him for his charity. But Florence had convinced her that Brandon would not see her, so she had soldiered on alone.
And Brandon had headed west to become pastor of the church in Little Horn. His reputation must have remained spotless, for everyone in th
e area seemed to adore him.
Eli whimpered in his sleep, recalling her to her duty. The little sweetheart was growing another tooth on the bottom, the pearly nub just breaking through, and she knew his tender gums kept him from sleeping soundly.
Her heart, it seemed, was just as tender when it came to Brandon Stillwater. Only this time, she would listen to her head instead, and it cautioned her to keep her distance.
* * *
How was he supposed to keep his distance? Brandon’s legs ate up the dusty ground as he headed for his next appointment at the railway station. By word and deed, Elizabeth made it clear she had no use for him. But he was the minister. Having no parents, Jasper, Theo and Eli were under his care, for all he could not see to their needs on a moment-by-moment basis. He had every right and responsibility to check on them, to make sure they were safe and well cared for.
He couldn’t deny she was doing a good job. The boys seemed content in her company, happy even, especially after being shuttled between houses since their mother had abandoned them. Elizabeth was good to them, efficient, yet gentle, taking the time to talk to and touch her little charges as if she were their mother.
She’d make a marvelous mother and a wonderful wife.
A wife for someone other than him. He had to remember that.
The best thing he could do was keep busy, which shouldn’t be hard. He had a long list of tasks today. Amos Crenshaw had asked him to stop by to discuss the house the railway was building for the stationmaster and his family. Brandon ought to check on Tug Coleman and see how the widowed rancher was faring after the wildfire that had destroyed part of his spread. Then he’d swing over to Dorothy Hill’s to make sure the feisty widow and her brood were helping repair the damage as she’d promised. He had a sermon to develop before Sunday and the Harvest Festival to plan.
But even after Amos gave him some excellent news he knew would make David McKay rejoice, Brandon’s feet drew him back to the boardinghouse that afternoon. This time, he didn’t even have to go inside, for Elizabeth and the babies were out front. She’d managed to wrestle the handcart down the stairs and was just rearranging the babies inside it, back bent and glorious hair hidden under a straw hat. But it was the person standing next to her that had Brandon hurrying forward to help.