by Regina Scott
As their faces fell, she turned away from them to Jamie, who still held her mother’s horses.
“We might as well give up,” she told him. “I can’t live this way. I’m sorry, Jamie, but I can’t marry you.”
Chapter Seven
“Oh, Annie, no!” The words were out of Elizabeth’s mouth before she could think better of them. Who was she to champion love when she’d let hers slip away?
“It’s for the best,” Dorothy said, gathering her daughter close. “My father always said you can’t trust a Coleman.”
“I should have known a Hill couldn’t be counted on to keep her word,” Tug replied, voice hard.
“Pa!” Jamie abandoned the horses to rush forward. “You aren’t helping!”
“Neither are you,” Dorothy accused, releasing her daughter to see to her team. “Come on, Annie. We’re leaving.”
Annie sucked back a sob, holding up a hand to keep Jamie from touching her. “No. I don’t want to go with you, Ma.”
Jamie brightened until she continued, “And I don’t want to go with you either, Jamie. I’m staying with Miss Dumont and the babies.”
With me? Elizabeth started as Annie pasted herself against her side. Jamie’s body tightened as if he’d been struck, but Annie’s mother drew herself up as if prepared to fight.
One look at the girl’s tear-stained face and Elizabeth felt a similar protectiveness rising up inside her. “You’re welcome to stay with me as long as you like, Annie.”
Dorothy grabbed the reins and dragged her horses around, all the while glaring at Brandon. “See what comes from meddling, Preacher? I thought that good book of yours counseled against it.”
“The Bible encourages us to do unto others as we would have done to ourselves, to love our neighbors,” Brandon told her, voice kind. “If I was feuding with my neighbor so badly I drove my daughter to sorrow, I’d want someone to intervene.”
Dorothy hauled herself up into the seat. “Who asked you? I’m fine on my own. I expect you home for chores, Annie.” She slapped down on the reins and set the team rushing out of the yard.
Tug waved the dust away from his face. “Good riddance is what I say.”
Jamie was watching Elizabeth and Annie. “I’m sorry our parents can’t get along, Annie. But that doesn’t change how I feel about you. I love you.”
Pain reverberated in the words. Though he couldn’t be much more than nineteen, Jamie was deeply in love. By the look on her face, so was Annie. Elizabeth hurt for them both.
“I love you too,” the girl said. “But what kind of life could we have with them always at each other’s throat? Can you imagine Christmas like that? Church services? Either I’d come to resent you or you’d come to resent me, and I can’t bear the thought.”
As his son’s face shattered, Tug stepped forward. “I’m sorry, Annie. You’re a fine girl, for all you’re a Hill, but I don’t think your ma will ever settle down.”
Jamie whirled, eyes blazing. “Maybe she would if you’d ever leave her be. Annie’s right. There’s no hope for either of you.”
Brandon laid a hand on Jamie’s shoulder as Tug took a step back, mouth hanging open.
“There’s always hope,” Brandon told Jamie. “But Mrs. Hill and your father have to be the ones to embrace it.”
Jamie hung his head. “Then they’re never going to make peace.”
Theo reached for Annie just then, and Elizabeth let him go into the girl’s arms. As Brandon continued speaking to Jamie and Tug, Elizabeth led the girl to the wagon.
“Take some time,” she encouraged her. “You don’t have to make a decision now.”
Annie shook her head, blond hair coming loose. “It’s done. Jamie and I can never be together.” She buried her face behind Theo’s dark head.
Elizabeth wasn’t ready to give up. Funny how four years had changed her perspective. When she and Brandon had parted, she’d been certain she was justified in her actions. She would never speak to him again. He’d left her, after all, in her hour of need. Looking back now, she could see mistakes on both sides. They should have met, talked about their concerns. They might still have decided to part, for she wasn’t sure she would have been brave enough to move to Texas then. Or they might have found their way back to each other. Both had been too quick to give up.
She stayed with Annie as Brandon went to hitch up the team for their trip back to town. Tug and Jamie stood at one side, steps apart but miles distant. Tug rubbed his arm as if feeling a pain somewhere deeper. Jamie’s tortured gaze remained on Annie. The girl did not glance his way again as Brandon drove away from the house.
“I’ll speak to your mother,” Brandon promised Annie as the wagon started down the road. “Tug is already regretting his words. We can smooth this over.”
It was good of him to offer. It seemed he was called on to play peacemaker often in this town.
“Thank you, Pastor,” Annie said from her place in the wagon’s bed, her head still turned down to Theo in her lap. “But it won’t do any good. Much as I wish it were otherwise, I can’t make them behave.” She sighed. “I suspect in time I’ll have to look for someone else to marry, though my heart won’t be in it.”
Elizabeth had felt the same way when she’d advertised to be a mail-order bride. With her aunt’s death, her last tie to Cambridge had snapped. She’d wanted to go somewhere, anywhere, even if it meant marrying a stranger. Now she could only be grateful that David McKay had found a bride he could love, leaving her free.
But free to do what? She’d been a competent governess, but pursuing that course meant leaving the triplets behind.
She must not have been the only one thinking hard, because they were a quiet group on the ride back to town. The movement of the wagon lulled the babies to sleep, their little bodies cuddling against Annie and Elizabeth. Brandon gazed out over the team, face troubled. Elizabeth was certain he didn’t like the results of their efforts.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured to him. “I really thought this would work.”
“It almost did,” he replied with a sad smile. “It was a good idea, Elizabeth. Tug and Dorothy are just a lot angrier than I thought. A shame we can’t get them to see that they only hurt themselves by holding grudges.”
A shame indeed. She knew the hurt that came with hanging on to past disagreements. She’d been angry with Brandon for years. Laying down the pain had somehow felt like betraying her feelings, her dreams. But she certainly didn’t want to end up like Dorothy Hill, pushing everyone, even her own daughter, away.
She glanced at the man holding the reins. He’d been strong today, firm in his convictions and determined to show Tug and Dorothy what it meant to live at peace. Though they’d failed to convince the pair, Elizabeth couldn’t help being proud of him. If only she could believe his reputation wasn’t the driving force behind his actions. After all, who trusted a pastor who could not help the members of his congregation when they needed him?
They reached the boardinghouse a short while later. Mrs. Tyson took one look at their faces and her own face saddened. While Brandon and Annie settled the boys, Elizabeth checked with the boardinghouse owner to make sure it was all right for Annie to stay with her. The bed was plenty big enough for two, but she wasn’t sure about the arrangements David McKay had made for the cost.
“That’s fine for a day or two,” Mrs. Causewell, the boardinghouse owner, agreed with a wave of her hand. “But it must be getting crowded up there.” She fished in her apron and handed Elizabeth a letter. “By the way, this came for you.”
Elizabeth thanked her and took the letter upstairs. All three babies were asleep on the bed, and Brandon was talking quietly with Annie as they watched over the trio. By the way the girl kept nodding, Elizabeth thought he was offering advice. Elizabeth bent her head and opened the letter. The ligh
t in the room seemed to dim as she read.
Her face must have mirrored her feelings, for Brandon looked up and hurried to her side.
“What is it?” he asked. “Bad news?”
Elizabeth folded the letter shut, fingers trembling. “Good news, I suppose. Someone responded to my ad. I’ve been offered a position as a governess, in San Francisco.”
* * *
San Francisco? The biggest city on the West Coast, it had to be nearly two thousand miles away from Little Horn. And the stories that were reported occasionally in the Austin paper were not complimentary.
“It’s a wild place, I hear,” he said. “Drinking, violence, mayhem.”
Elizabeth raised her brows. “That bad, Pastor?”
Maybe worse. But then, he’d feel the same way about any place that took her away from him.
He nearly jerked back from her at the thought. He had no claim on her affections. Besides, who was he to order her life?
And was San Francisco truly any worse than any other town out West? Very likely there were more than a few wealthy folks in the city built by gold. Someone must need a governess.
Or a wife.
He forced his lips to smile. “You could do just as well in Little Horn without having to move again to another unknown place. Give me time to find you a position here.”
She eyed him a moment, and he could almost see the thoughts fluttering like caged birds behind her eyes. Had their time together in Little Horn proved to her he was a man who could be trusted? Was she willing to forego the lure of a fancier city to stay here near the triplets she claimed to love?
“One week,” she said. “And then I’ll have to send a response.”
One week. Relief surged through him. He and Bo had once calculated that there were more than a hundred families within a day’s drive of Little Horn. Surely one could use a governess.
His brother was less optimistic when they met at the café the next day. Having recently married, Bo was in town less and less these days and had only come in today to pick up some nails from the general store. But anytime he called, Brandon was ready to meet him.
Most people would see Brandon and his brother as mirror images, but he saw the subtle differences between them. Bo’s chest was broader, his arms more muscular from working on the ranch. His coloring was darker too, from spending days in the sun, despite the Stetson he perpetually wore. Now they took off their hats in unison and seated themselves at one of the checkered-cloth-covered tables in Mercy Green’s café.
“Everything going well at the ranch?” Brandon asked, not even bothering to pick up the printed menu. He knew what he wanted, could smell it on the air in the neat little restaurant.
“Perfect,” Bo promised him. “And Louisa keeps me as well fed as Ma did.”
They shared a smile at the memory.
The dark-haired Mrs. Green came up to their table. “What can I get you fine gentlemen?”
“Apple pie,” Brandon told her.
“Peach,” Bo put in.
She shook her head. “I don’t know why I bother to ask. Coming right up.”
As she moved away, Brandon braced his hands on the clean cotton cloth. “I need your help, Bo. I have one week to find Elizabeth Dumont a new position.”
“One week?” Bo leaned back from the table. “What’s the hurry?”
As Brandon explained the letter Elizabeth had received, Mrs. Green returned with generous pieces of pie. Brandon and Bo chorused their thanks, then bowed their heads to ask the blessing.
“These are proud people,” Bo reminded him when they’d finished, “willing to offer help but seldom asking for it themselves. If their children need tending, they rely on family and friends.”
Brandon nodded, digging into the apple pie. Mercy Green might not be the best cook in the area, but the lady, like her café, was warm and welcoming.
“David McKay had a governess,” Brandon pointed out. “Two in fact.”
“One his daughter ran off and one he married,” Bo countered. “But he’s the oddity, Brandon. A governess is for a tenderfoot from back East.” The tines of his fork pierced the flaky crust, and Brandon knew he couldn’t wait to dive into the peach pie. Their mother had baked the best in Cambridge, which was why he rarely ordered it anywhere else. No other pie had ever come close to his memories.
“And we all know how badly these East Coast boys fare in Texas,” Brandon couldn’t help teasing him.
His brother grinned. “We’re oddities too.”
“And that means there must be two or three others in the area. I just have to find them.”
“You’re the minister,” Bo said, forking up a mouthful of pie. “You hear about everyone’s needs.”
“Which reminds me.” Brandon hitched forward on the seat. “Tug Coleman and Dorothy Hill went after each other yesterday, despite attempts by Elizabeth and me to make peace. Will you mention the matter to Lula May? We may have to use the Lone Star Cowboy League’s influence to get them to work together again.”
Bo shook his head. “I’m beginning to think those two are a lost cause.”
“Annie feels the same way. She broke off her engagement with Jamie.”
Bo whistled. “That must have been some ruckus. Sorry I missed it.”
“I’m sorry Elizabeth had to witness it. It wasn’t exactly a testament to Christian kindness.”
Bo cocked his head. “That’s twice now you’ve used her first name. Should I be calling on folks about arranging a wedding instead of finding a governess position?”
Brandon felt his face heating. “Slip of the tongue. Don’t refine on it.”
Bo shrugged. “I just thought since she was the one who broke your heart in Boston...”
Brandon choked on his pie. “Not so loud!”
“What? Is it a secret?” Bo lowered his voice even as he raised his brows. “You better be careful, brother. Someone might put two and two together.”
“And get sixteen.” Brandon sighed. “Miss Dumont is a member of my congregation and the person caring for three infants you and I both feel responsible for. I promised to help her seek permanent employment. That’s all.”
Bo held up his hands. “All right. You told me you were over the girl you left Boston to forget. I remember the scandal with her uncle, how he swindled all those folks. I didn’t ask questions. I was just thankful you decided to come West with me.”
So was Brandon. He’d needed a way to start over again.
“But I think you should ask yourself why you’re so concerned about Miss Dumont now,” Bo continued. “She survived the scandal. She got herself all the way out here, and it sounds like she’s doing a good job with the triplets. Now she has an opportunity in San Francisco. It seems as if she can take care of herself.”
He couldn’t doubt it, not after watching her with the babies and some of the more difficult members of his congregation.
“She’s already uprooted herself twice,” Brandon told his brother, pie unheeded before him. “Once when she had to leave the life she’d known to be a governess and once to come out here. If she wants to stay in Little Horn, she should have that opportunity.”
“Does she want to stay in Little Horn?” Bo challenged.
Brandon frowned. “Of course she wants to stay. She loves the triplets.”
Bo’s face softened. “Everyone loves the triplets. Louisa and I would have adopted them and so would Caroline and David if we hadn’t thought family would be found. No word there, I suppose.”
“None.” Brandon shifted in his seat. “And now we’ll be setting up the children’s home for the boys and others like them.”
Bo scraped the last of his pie off the plate. “It’s a good idea, but I can’t help wishing...”
“The triplets had a family,
” Brandon finished. “I know. I feel the same way. They’ve been moved around so much in the last few months. They just need a stable environment, even if it’s a children’s home.”
His brother nodded, and their talk moved on to other matters before Bo had to head back to the ranch. But the conversation remained on Brandon’s mind. Perhaps that was why he called at the boardinghouse later that afternoon.
“Miss Dumont has many callers,” Mrs. Causewell informed him when she answered his knock. “It’s not natural.”
“Little Horn is fond of its triplets,” Brandon said with what he hoped was a charming smile.
Mrs. Causewell scowled. “All those visiting ladies are bad enough. It’s the gents that concern me.”
One foot on the stairs, Brandon paused. Between his brother’s conversation and this woman’s grumbling, it would be all too easy for a rumor to start.
“I hope you know, ma’am,” he told her, “that as a minister I visit all those in need.”
She waved a hand. “Certainly, Pastor. But you tell me one good reason for Clyde Parker to visit. He went up a quarter hour ago.”
Parker? Brandon knew he was frowning as he started up the stairs. Parker had been one of the few ranchers in the area when Brandon and Bo had arrived. The tough veteran had weathered storms and loss alike. Tradition was all-important to him, next to tight control of finances. What business could he have with Elizabeth or the triplets? Had he decided to take Brandon’s sermon to heart? Was he here to offer some kind of help?
The door was ajar as Brandon reached the landing, and he could hear a high voice, likely Annie’s, crooning nonsense words. Over it, Elizabeth’s voice was firm.
“Thank you for the offer, Mr. Parker. I will consider it along with the other.”
Offer? Why would Parker need a governess or nanny?
Brandon pushed the door open the rest of the way. Annie was sitting on the bed, the boys curled up around her as she sang to them. Elizabeth stood on the rug, back straight, head high, eyes flashing, with Clyde Parker in front of her, bandy legs splayed and thumbs hooked in his gun belt. From what Brandon could see of his face, it was turning red.