The Bride's Matchmaking Triplets

by Regina Scott

  “Excuse me,” he said, interrupting Magnuson’s diatribe about the excessive cost of raising a child. As the rancher frowned, Brandon headed for Elizabeth.

  Tug moved to intercept him. “Mighty fine prayer, Pastor.”

  “Thank you,” Brandon said, trying to ease around him.

  The man shifted, blocking Brandon’s way and his view of Elizabeth. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something. The Bible talks a lot about being kind to widows and orphans. I can see that this house will help the orphans, but what about the widows?”

  Brandon caught himself putting on his polite smile and nearly grinned. Elizabeth was right. He did tend to default to noncommittal. He made himself look interested instead.

  “Widows, Tug? Do we have widows in need of a home?”

  The rancher pulled at his collar. “Well, maybe not a home, but there’s something to be said for congenial company, a helpmate at your side as the days of life wind on.”

  He had no idea Tug could be so poetic. “That sounds more like a husband to me.”

  “Well, yeah.” Tug visibly swallowed. “That is, I was wondering what you thought about Dorothy Hill.”

  Despite himself, Brandon felt his brows jerk up. “What do you think of Dorothy Hill?”

  Tug dropped his gaze as if to watch his shuffling feet. “She’s a whole lot more tolerable than I expected.”

  He could not be saying what Brandon thought he was saying. “I’m glad to hear you’re getting along.”

  “We get on fine,” Tug assured him, raising his gaze once more. “In fact, there’s just one problem.” He cleared his throat. “I found the ring.”

  “The ring.” It took a moment for the words to sink in, then Brandon grabbed his arm. “The ring? You had it the whole time?”

  Tug nodded, face twisting in obvious misery. “I promise you, Pastor, I didn’t realize it, but she was going on and on about it, and when she described it, I knew it was in my mother’s jewelry box.” He heaved a sigh. “What am I gonna do, Pastor? I was starting to hope I might ask Dorothy to be my wife. We could let Annie and Jamie marry. But if she finds out I have that ring, she’ll never speak to a Coleman again.”

  Brandon put a hand on his shoulder. “Believe me, Tug. If you don’t tell her, and she finds out some other way, it could inflict a wound that will never heal. Explain that you didn’t realize it was the ring in question and give it to her.”

  Tug nodded slowly. “I suppose that’s the best way to do it.”

  Brandon dropped his hand. “I’ll be praying for you.”

  “Thank you, Pastor.” He ambled off, shoulders slumped, and Brandon could only hope Tug would heed his warning.

  He glanced around again and found that Elizabeth had moved since he’d last sighted her. She was now over at the cider table, where Mercy Green was offering her a cup to share with Jasper, who was in Elizabeth’s arms. Her gaze had been on the baby, but she glanced up as if she felt Brandon watching and gave him such a smile he thought his heart might leap from his chest. Determined to reach her this time, he started out once more.

  Seven hands shaken and six congratulations later, he finally succeeded. Elizabeth gazed up at him, blue-green eyes shining. He wanted to take her in his arms, offer her his heart. He couldn’t say what had changed between them, but he knew that it had. Against all odds, against all circumstances, they had found a way back to each other. He and Elizabeth could be a family, held together by three precious little boys.

  As if he couldn’t wait either, Jasper reached out and grabbed Brandon’s lapel, tugging him closer.

  Thank You, Lord!

  Mrs. Crenshaw, who was standing nearby, smiled. “There you go, Pastor. Your favorite boy.”

  “All the boys are my favorite,” Brandon assured her, accepting Jasper from Elizabeth as the baby started blowing cider bubbles. Jasper immediately squirmed to be let down, but Brandon didn’t dare turn him loose in the crowd. As it was, all he wanted to do was talk to Elizabeth.

  Mrs. Crenshaw turned to accept her own cup of cider from Mrs. Green, and Elizabeth edged closer.

  Brandon swallowed, the words drying up in his throat. She was so beautiful—her hair bright and shiny, her figure shown to advantage in her peach-colored gown. His heart swelled so much it seemed to be blocking his tongue.

  “Wonderful turnout,” she ventured.

  He nodded. What was wrong with him? Where was his voice? He was a trained orator. He’d given coherent sermons to hundreds of people. Why couldn’t he confess his feelings to his own wife?

  Because she wasn’t really his wife, not yet. And once again, this was personal.

  “I’m sorry I had to interrupt you,” she murmured, smoothing down Jasper’s hair. “But I realized something just now, and I had to tell you.”

  His heart was pounding so loudly he couldn’t hear the crowd around them. “Oh?”

  Her smile was soft. “Yes, Brandon, you see...”

  “Pastor?”

  The unfamiliar voice came from behind him. It couldn’t have been more ill-timed. For once in his life, he wanted to tell the person to go away and leave him alone. But he knew his duty.

  So did Elizabeth. She offered him a commiserating smile and nodded for him to respond.

  With a sigh, Brandon put on his polite smile and turned to find a man and a woman standing hesitantly among the crowd. They were a fine-looking couple, the man tall and dark-haired with a solid chin, the woman shorter and well-proportioned with huge blue eyes. Both seemed to be dressed in their Sunday best, from the man’s black coat and trousers to the lady’s sunny yellow taffeta and flowered hat. The woman’s gaze lit on Jasper in Brandon’s arms, and she gave a gasp.

  “Look, honey,” she cried, fingers pleating a lace-edged handkerchief. “It’s them as I live and breathe.”

  The man’s lower lip trembled, but he raised his chin as if to keep anyone from seeing his emotion. “You’re right, sweetheart. I was beginning to think this day would never come.”

  Elizabeth pressed against Brandon’s side, as if wishing she could snatch Jasper away. He felt the same way. But the baby was leaning in his arms, showing every inclination of wanting to leap toward the newcomers. Nearby, Eli let out a happy crow from Annie’s arms, and even Theo waved a fist from her mother’s.

  “Oh, the precious darlings,” the woman cooed. “How we’ve missed you!”

  Dread settled like a rock in Brandon’s gut. “Do you know our boys?”

  The man puffed out his chest, setting his pocket watch to glinting. “I should say we do. I’m John Brown, and this is my wife, Nancy. These are Jasper, Eli and Theo, sons of my wife’s cousin Harriet. And we’ve come to take them home.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Take the triplets home? Elizabeth took a step away from the couple to steady herself. She wanted to gather the boys close, carry them away from these strangers who claimed kinship.

  She was their mother.

  Brandon seemed to be having similar problems, for he couldn’t even manage his polite face.

  “You’re related to the triplets?” he repeated as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard right.

  The lady nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was a pretty woman, with a soft face and full lips, and Elizabeth wanted to dislike her on sight but couldn’t quite muster it.

  “My cousin Harriet birthed these three dear boys shortly before her husband died,” Mrs. Brown said with a brave sniff. “I’m sure they were such a comfort to her in those dark days.” She blew her nose daintily in her handkerchief.

  “Nice gal,” her husband agreed. “They lived a ways north from us, but after we heard she had taken ill, we went to see how we could help, only to find that she’d left the farm and taken the babies.”

  “We’ve been searching for them ev
er since,” the wife confirmed. “We knew she was sick, but...” She shuddered and dabbed at her cheeks.

  “Now, then, darling.” Mr. Brown patted her shoulder. “Our journey’s finally at an end. We found the boys, and we’ll do right by them.” He dropped his hand. “Somehow.”

  Was there some reason they couldn’t take the boys? Elizabeth met Brandon’s gaze, watched his eyes narrow as if in determination.

  “If raising the boys is a hardship,” he told the couple, “perhaps we could help.”

  The wife’s eyes widened. “Oh, I couldn’t see them raised in an orphanage.”

  “Though I’m sure your new facility is a fine one, Pastor,” her husband hurried to add.

  “Jasper, Theo and Eli won’t be raised in a children’s home,” Elizabeth told them. “My husband the pastor and I would like to adopt them.”

  Mrs. Brown’s lower lip trembled, reminding Elizabeth of the boys when they had been denied. “Oh, how sweet of you, to take our boys into your own home.”

  “Mighty kind,” her husband agreed. “But I know Harriet would want them raised by kin.”

  Mrs. Brown sniffed. “If only she’d waited for us to arrive. We could have helped her, maybe even found her a doctor who could cure her.” She leaned closer to Elizabeth, the scent of roses hanging about her, and lowered her voice. “I blame that terrible sickness. It affected her mind. Why else would she leave her boys to strangers?”

  And how could Elizabeth give her boys to strangers?

  “It is a tragedy,” Brandon said, and Elizabeth could see him stand taller, his minister’s face sliding into place.

  No! she wanted to shout. Don’t play peacemaker! Fight for our boys!

  “But you understand we’ll have to confirm your claims,” he continued. “Loving the triplets as you do, you wouldn’t want us to hand them over to anyone who came calling.”

  “Of course not,” Mr. Brown said with a nod. “You check all you like, Pastor. You’ll find everything aboveboard. But be quick, if you can. The missus and I need to get back to the spread for harvest. We’ve been gone too long as it is.”

  Brandon handed Jasper to Elizabeth, his fingers brushing her arm. She tried to meet his gaze, desperate to get his attention. She needed his support now, his strength.

  His gaze was tormented, like silver twisted by the fire. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, before turning to Mr. Brown. “If you’ll come this way, I’ll introduce you to the head of the Lone Star Cowboy League and our sheriff.”

  “You’ll be all right, dear?” Mr. Brown asked his wife.

  Elizabeth wouldn’t. Not if Brandon let them take the boys.

  Mrs. Brown was smiling at Jasper. “I’ll be fine now that I know our boys are safe.”

  With one last look to Elizabeth, Brandon led Mr. Brown off through the crowd.

  And once more, she stood alone with her fears.

  No, not alone. Even though Brandon was now at the other side of the crowd, conversing with Lula May, Edmund, Stella and Sheriff Fuller, he hadn’t truly left her. She had to believe in him, believe that he would do what was best for the boys. She’d said she’d let the babies go with family. Her needs were not as important as theirs.

  “May I hold him?” Mrs. Brown asked.

  She wanted to refuse, but she knew that was wrong. She turned to offer Jasper to the woman.

  But Jasper clung to Elizabeth, refusing to move, and buried his head in her shoulder. Did he sense her concerns? Or did he sense something wrong with Mrs. Brown?

  The lady in question dropped her arms, face melting. “Oh, my poor dear. He’s forgotten who I am.”

  Elizabeth supposed it was possible. “Three months must feel like forever to a baby.”

  She nodded. “They change so fast. Look how big they’ve grown! Are they walking yet?”

  “Almost.” Elizabeth swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat. If the boys went with the Browns, she’d never see them walk, listen to them recite their lessons or help them find a trade or profession. It sounded as if the Browns had come a distance. She might never see the triplets again.

  She must have done a good job at hiding her feelings, for Mrs. Brown warbled, “Oh, the darlings! I can’t wait to get them home, show them all the horsies.” She leaned forward and chucked Jasper under the chin. “You like horsies, don’t you, Eli?”

  Jasper scowled. Did he realize she’d mistaken him for his brother? Brandon seemed to be the only one besides Elizabeth, Louisa and Caroline who could tell them apart easily.

  “No,” he said.

  Mrs. Brown recoiled.

  “It’s his favorite word,” Elizabeth explained. “I’m sure he’ll love horses when he’s a little older.”

  “No, no, no,” Jasper chanted, bouncing in Elizabeth’s arms to emphasize the point.

  Mrs. Brown’s smile seemed a little tight. “How sweet. Well, I’m sure we’ll find something that will satisfy him. Babies just love me.”

  Jasper blew bubbles at her.

  “Have you found a place to stay in town?” Elizabeth asked above the noise.

  Mrs. Brown took her eyes off the sputtering baby. “We just got in on the morning train, and the nice fellow at the station directed us to the orphanage.” Her face clouded. “But I’m not sure where we’ll stay if Pastor Stillwater can’t confirm our claims quickly. We don’t have enough money for a fancy hotel.”

  “Little Horn doesn’t have a fancy hotel,” Elizabeth told her. “Or any hotel for that matter. There is a boardinghouse just down the street.”

  “I hope we’re not here long enough to need a boardinghouse.” She rubbed at the sleeve of her yellow gown. “I worry about the farm. We have very helpful neighbors, but it’s not the same as being there yourself.”

  Annie came back just then, Theo fussing in her arms. Her mother was right behind with a stormy-faced Eli.

  “I think they’re getting tired,” Dorothy told Elizabeth.

  Jasper was squirming as well.

  “We should get them home,” Elizabeth said, then nearly took the word back. It seemed their home was far away.

  “Their mother used to sing to them,” Mrs. Brown put in helpfully. “Have you tried that?” She hummed a snatch of a song Elizabeth didn’t recognize, but all three babies stilled to listen.

  “Lala?” Eli asked with a frown.

  No wonder they had enjoyed Caroline’s singing and Brandon’s song when Jasper was sick. The sound must remind them of their mother.

  Mrs. Brown stopped humming. “That’s right, sweetheart. La, la, la. That’s what your mother used to sing to you. She had such a sweet voice.” She glanced around at Elizabeth and the other ladies. “And no one knows where she went?”

  Annie and Dorothy were staring at her as they must have realized the woman had known the babies’ mother.

  “No,” Elizabeth said. “But we never knew her name until now, so we could only make general queries.”

  “The note she left said she’d gone home to meet her Maker,” Annie supplied.

  Mrs. Brown gasped. “Oh, no! But she never came home. Oh, I can’t bear the thought of poor Harriet, alone and dying.” Tears started down her face again.

  In unison, Jasper, Theo and Eli broke into wails. Annie, Dorothy and Elizabeth jiggled and cooed at them while Mrs. Brown wrung her hands and looked dismayed.

  “I’m sure my husband will know how to contact you,” Elizabeth said over the tumult. “Excuse us now. The boys need a nap. Dorothy, hand me Eli, and allow me to borrow Annie a moment.”

  Dorothy nodded as she complied, and Elizabeth and Annie hurried away from the crowd without another look at Mrs. Brown. Elizabeth might have to give up her boys, but not yet, not now. They were hers to comfort, hers to hold.

  Please, Lord, help Brandon learn
the truth, and help me learn to live with it.

  Her quick steps seemed to calm the boys, for they quieted away from the crowd.

  “Was that lady related to the triplets?” Annie asked, scurrying along beside her.

  “So she claimed,” Elizabeth said, reaching the yard of the parsonage. “Brandon is having the sheriff check to be sure.”

  “You don’t think someone would lie about that,” Annie said, clearly shocked by the very idea.

  It did seem far-fetched that a couple would come all this way to claim three babies who would be a challenge to raise. What benefit could there be for the Browns? At some point, the boys would be good helpers around the farm, but not for many years to come. And the couple had known the boys’ names, even if Mrs. Brown found them hard to tell apart.

  “I doubt they’re lying,” Elizabeth said as they paused on the stoop so she could open the door. “But it doesn’t hurt to confirm their claims. We want the best for our boys.”

  Annie rubbed her nose against Theo’s, earning herself a watery smile. “Yes, we do.” She glanced at Elizabeth. “But you’ll pardon me for thinking you and Pastor Stillwater are the best. You love them.”

  She did, and she knew Brandon did. She had just decided they might make a real family. What would Brandon do if the triplets were taken away? How could God make something good come from this?

  * * *

  After hearing Mr. Brown’s story, Lula May called an emergency meeting of the Lone Star Cowboy League. Most of the members had come into town for services and to open the children’s home, so it was relatively easy to alert them to the meeting. Still, Brandon didn’t get back to the parsonage until just before the meeting was due to start in the church.

  He found Elizabeth in the parlor, one of the boys’ shirts unheeded in her lap, the missing button dangling from a thread in her hand.

  “They’re napping,” she reported, clearly trying to rally. “What did Sheriff Fuller say?”

  “He sent a telegram to Fredonia, where the Browns say they are from. The telegraph operator there sent back word that there is a Brown farm a ways outside town. It’s remote enough that they wouldn’t have heard about the boys easily and would have needed time to get here. So, that part of the story seems to be true. Jeb is sending out inquiries about Harriet Smith.”