The Bride's Matchmaking Triplets

by Regina Scott

  Her fingers pleated the shirt. “Must we give them up, then?”

  Brandon went to sit on the chair next to hers, a dainty affair that shuddered under his weight. “I don’t know, Elizabeth. I talked some more with Mr. Brown. Their area was hard hit by the drought too. Their farm is struggling. Perhaps I can convince them to leave the boys with us.”

  “I suggested as much to Mrs. Brown.” Her voice caught, and she drew in a breath before continuing. “She seemed to feel compelled to keep them.”

  He laid a hand on hers, finding it cold, stiff, with none of her usual energy. “Let me try, Elizabeth. For the boys’ sake, and ours.”

  She raised her head. “I know you’ll do what’s right, Brandon. I believe in you.”

  Those last four words lifted a weight from his heart. There was so much more he wanted to say to her, so much he hoped to hear her say, but if he was to make his case to keep their boys, he had to go now. He rose, pressed a kiss against her hair and went to the church, where the league had agreed to meet so as not to disturb the triplets.

  “I told you they had kin!” Abe Sawyer was crowing as Brandon entered. The ranchers were clustered in pews near the front, and it didn’t escape Brandon’s notice that Bo, David, Edmund and CJ were on one side of the aisle while Magnuson and his cronies were on the other. Lula May was standing at the pulpit, fingers toying with her gavel.

  “Seems it was just a matter of time before they showed up,” Clyde Parker agreed as Brandon took his seat behind David and Bo.

  “Yes, well, it’s best to be certain,” Lula May said with a nod to Brandon. “It seems we’re all here. Let’s get this meeting started.” She brought the gavel down on the pulpit.

  The men must have become accustomed to the sound, for they settled into place under her watchful gaze.

  “As you probably heard,” she said, “a Mr. and Mrs. Brown arrived in town today, claiming to be related to the triplets. It seems the boys’ mother was a widow named Harriet Smith, who was cousin to Mrs. Brown. The Browns want our permission to take the triplets home to their farm outside Fredonia.”

  Magnuson stood. “Permission granted. Meeting adjourned.”

  Lula May pointed her gavel at him. “Sit down, Casper. There’s more to the story.”

  “There always is,” he grumbled, but he resumed his seat.

  “Jeb,” Lula May said with a nod to the sheriff. “You want to share the particulars?”

  Sheriff Fuller rose. Though he wasn’t yet thirty, he had a practical approach to life that Brandon generally found refreshing. Now he explained the results of the inquiries he’d been able to make so far.

  “But I haven’t learned anything more about Harriet Smith,” he concluded. “The telegrams that have been returned all state no one’s heard of her.”

  Abe Sawyer shrugged. “So she was a quiet thing, probably kept to herself. There’s no crime in that.”

  “You ever try to hide three babies?” Lula May countered. “I said it when Bo found the babies, and I’ll say it again. Someone knows something.”

  Bo nodded.

  “Yes,” Magnuson insisted. “The Browns. That’s why they came to Little Horn.” He glanced around at the others, brow furrowing. “We have a golden opportunity to give those boys a home with family. I don’t see why you folks are hesitating.”

  “Pastor?” Lula May asked.

  Brandon rose to his feet, feeling heavy. “Mr. and Mrs. Brown are struggling financially. Even though they will receive the reward the league promised for information about the mother, Mr. Brown asked whether the league could help pay for the boys’ care.”

  “What?” Magnuson was on his feet again. “Do they think we’re made of money?”

  Lula May struck the pulpit so hard Brandon thought he heard wood splinter. “You plant yourself in that pew, Casper, or so help me I’ll throw you out of this meeting.”

  Magnuson sank onto the pew with a scowl.

  As Brandon sat, Bo looked back at him, face troubled.

  David rose and glanced around. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. We accepted responsibility for those children. We built a home for them and others like them. Pastor and his wife were willing to adopt them. Now we’re just going to hand them over to the first people who claim interest?”

  “They’re kin, McKay,” CJ put in.

  Brandon remembered how the rancher and his wife had adopted his twin nieces when CJ’s widowed brother Ned had disappeared.

  Edmund heaved himself to his feet, towering over most of the other men in the room. “Sometimes kin isn’t best to raise a child.”

  David nodded. “We know that to our sorrow. I say we tell the Browns the boys have a home here in Little Horn, with people who love them.” He looked to Brandon, who smiled his thanks.

  Jeb cleared his throat. “I know I’m not a member of the league, Madam President, but...”

  Lula May nodded. “Go ahead, Sheriff.”

  “It isn’t legal,” Jeb said. “You can’t keep children from kin, even if kin doesn’t amount to a hill of beans.”

  Bo met Brandon’s gaze again, and Brandon knew his brother was remembering their father.

  “If the Browns protest and take the matter to a judge,” Jeb continued, “I’ll have to see they get the triplets.”

  David fell back into his seat, and Edmund sank down more slowly.

  “There has to be something we can do,” he insisted.

  Brandon pushed himself up again. “There is. I’d like to try to convince Mr. Brown to leave the boys in my and Elizabeth’s care.”

  David looked to Lula May. “I motion we let Pastor try.”

  Lula May raised her gavel.

  “And I motion,” Abe Sawyer put in, “that if the pastor fails, we pay the Browns two hundred dollars a year to care for the boys till they’re grown.”

  “Two hundred dollars!” Magnuson exploded. “My boy didn’t take nearly that much.”

  “There are three of them,” Sawyer reminded him.

  “But they’re babies,” Parker protested. “How much can they eat?”

  “You’d be surprised,” David told him across the aisle. “Why, when Maggie was little...”

  Lula May’s whistle pierced the air, and the ranchers quieted. “Anyone else want to motion?”

  Magnuson shifted on the pew, setting it to groaning, but said nothing.

  “All right, then. I have a motion that Pastor Stillwater will talk to the Browns about the triplets staying in Little Horn as his sons. If the Browns refuse, we’ll offer them two hundred dollars a year to raise the boys. All in favor?”

  “Aye,” most chorused.

  Lula May glared at Magnuson.

  He threw up his hands. “Oh, all right. Aye. But I’m counting on you to be persuasive, Pastor.”

  Brandon could only pray he would be. For without the babies, would Elizabeth want to stay with him as his wife?

  Chapter Twenty

  The Tysons had offered to let Mr. and Mrs. Brown stay at the children’s home for the night to save them the cost of room and board, so Brandon went there as soon as the league meeting ended. Mr. Tyson must have seen the strain on him, for he laid a hand on Brandon’s shoulder before leading him into the parlor. The cheering crowds had left, and the children’s home was already in full operation. The Browns were sitting with Jo and Gil, listening to Mrs. Tyson read from Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. The intent way Jo sat and Gil’s wide eyes brought back memories of Brandon and Bo at their mother’s side as she read to them from similar adventures.

  Please, Lord, I want to read to the triplets like this. I want to share adventures with Jasper, Theo and Eli until they’re old enough to want their own.

  Mr. Brown sighted Brandon in the doorway and slapped his hands do
wn on the chair’s arms. “Well, Pastor? What did the league say?”

  Mrs. Tyson stopped in midsentence, and every gaze swung to Brandon.

  “The league is pleased to hear the triplets have family,” Brandon assured him. “But I’d like to talk to you and Mrs. Brown privately, if I may, about the boys’ future.”

  Mrs. Tyson set the book aside and rose. “Come with me, Jo and Gil. We should check on dinner.”

  Her husband went through the door to the kitchen as Gil hopped to his feet. Jo followed more slowly, frowning at the Browns. Brandon waited until the door had closed behind her before going to sit near Mr. Brown and his wife.

  “Your desire to raise the triplets is commendable,” he told the couple. “Taking on three babies is challenging for anyone, now even more so because of the drought.”

  The couple exchanged glances.

  “We know, Pastor,” the husband said. “That’s why I asked if the league could help.”

  “Oh, honey, no!” his wife protested. “We can’t ask these kind people for money. They’ve already done so much for our boys.”

  His face hardened. “Don’t you think I know that? It wasn’t easy asking for charity. But I don’t know how else we can afford it.”

  Brandon leaned forward. “My wife and I want to help. We’ve come to love the boys as our own. As Elizabeth mentioned, we’d like to adopt them, raise them in the parsonage. You could visit whenever you like, and we’d bring them to you as often as we could.”

  Mr. Brown nodded slowly, and hope surged through Brandon.

  “Your wife is awful sweet, Pastor,” Mrs. Brown said. “And I know Harriet would be pleased to have the boys raised in such a fine Christian home. But I don’t hardly see how I can part with them. My mother and aunt are gone, and now it seems I’ve lost dear Harriet too. The boys are all the family I have.” Her lips were trembling, eyes tearing, and she sniffed courageously, as if trying to be strong.

  “There, now,” Mr. Brown said, face softening. “It’s all right, sugar. We came here for the boys. We won’t leave without them. I’m sorry, Pastor, but that’s just how it is.”

  How could he argue? If he and Bo had been babies when their mother had died, he would have wished for such compassionate relatives to step in and claim them rather than their cruel father. Jasper, Theo and Eli were fortunate to have so many people who loved them.

  “Very well,” Brandon said. “But if you change your mind, please let me know.”

  “We will,” Mr. Brown promised. Mrs. Brown nodded agreement.

  Brandon stood. “Elizabeth and I will have the boys ready to go in the morning. And the Lone Star Cowboy League is prepared to provide two hundred dollars a year for the boys’ care.”

  Mrs. Brown pressed her fingers to her lips. “Oh, Pastor, it’s an answer to a prayer.”

  “Mighty generous of you,” her husband agreed. “And don’t you worry, Pastor. We’ll raise those boys to attend church and tithe regularly. You and your wife can rest assured they’ll be well cared for.”

  So it seemed. But Brandon’s biggest worry at the moment was how to explain to Elizabeth that he’d lost them their sons.

  * * *

  Elizabeth knew she should start dinner, but she had no interest in food and she was fairly sure Brandon would feel the same way. Still, she made herself rise and go to the kitchen.

  Three cups of cider sat on the table, and she recognized the vessels from the opening of the children’s home. It seemed their secret Good Samaritan had thought of the boys even now. Would the person mourn when the triplets left Little Horn?

  She shouldn’t think that way. She had to have faith in Brandon. But what if she’d been right? What if she and Brandon, and now the triplets, were never meant to be a family?

  She sank onto one of the kitchen chairs.

  Oh, Lord, I was beginning to believe You’ve been with me all along, helping me through the difficult times. But this situation feels wrong. I want to rejoice that Jasper, Theo and Eli will have a family, but I wanted to be their mother, Brandon their father. How can we let them go?

  A timid tap sounded at the door. Very likely someone had come seeking Brandon’s help. Wiping away the tears that had started down her cheeks, she went to the door.

  Jo Satler stood trembling on the back stoop. Tears sparkled on her lean face.

  Elizabeth’s heart sank. “Oh, Jo, what’s wrong? Did you hear the boys are leaving Little Horn?”

  Jo nodded. She squeezed past Elizabeth into the kitchen, gaze darting all around as if she feared the babies had been taken already.

  Elizabeth caught her shoulders before she could dash into the hall. “It’s all right. They’re still here. They’re just napping.”

  The girl slumped in her grip.

  Elizabeth pulled her close for a hug. “I don’t want to lose them either. But Brandon is going to talk to Mr. Brown, ask him to let the boys stay here.”

  Jo shook her head so violently she yanked herself out of Elizabeth’s arms.

  Oh, no! “Were you there?” she guessed.

  Jo nodded again, avoiding Elizabeth’s gaze as if feeling guilty about eavesdropping.

  “And Mr. Brown refused?” Elizabeth pressed.

  Once more she nodded.

  Elizabeth sat down hard. “Oh, Jo. Now I know why you were crying. I think I’ll join you.” She pressed her knuckles to her lips as the sobs rose inside her. She’d known Jasper, Theo and Eli such a short time, but they were written on her heart. And her heart was breaking.

  Jo came closer, laid her head on Elizabeth’s shoulder.

  “Don’t let them go,” she whispered. “Those people ain’t their kin.”

  Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from gasping, afraid she’d frighten the girl back into silence. Instead, she rubbed Jo’s back in encouragement.

  “Sheriff Fuller checked their hometown,” Elizabeth told her. “The people there said they were from that area.”

  “They’re lying,” Jo insisted, still in that hoarse whisper of a voice rarely used. “The boys’ ma was Betty Lane, not Harriet Smith.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “How do you know that?”

  “I heard her.” She pulled back to look Elizabeth in the eyes for the first time, her little face scrunched up in sorrow. “I was there when she left the babies.”

  “You were at the fair?” Elizabeth couldn’t believe it.

  Jo’s eyes widened. “I didn’t do anything wrong! I was just looking at the pies, I promise. And then this lady came in with the babies. She was real nice to me, promised not to tell I had been peeking. She told me to take care of the boys, and I did. Me and Gil, we watched over them. We left them presents. We helped their new mothers. We were their friends.”

  The Good Samaritans! “And you’re sure her name was Betty Lane?” Elizabeth said, watching her.

  Jo nodded. “Betty Lane, from West Falls way. That’s why you can’t let the babies go with those other people, Mrs. Elizabeth. They’re liars. And I’m afraid what they’ll do with Jasper, Theo and Eli.”

  * * *

  Brandon took his time returning to the parsonage. Ever since he was a child, he’d prided himself on his ability to play the peacemaker. He’d intervened between his father and Bo, solved problems with other students at the divinity school and helped people leave their fears behind and grow in their faith. He felt deep down that having him and Elizabeth raise the triplets was the right thing, that sending them away was a mistake. But he’d failed to convince the Browns.

  “I can’t wait to get them home,” Mrs. Brown had kept repeating as she and her husband had walked him to the door of the children’s home.

  All he could think about was how empty his home would be without them.

  And Elizabeth. How could he admit that he’d failed her a
gain? Back in Cambridge, he was beginning to believe, they had been misled. Florence had seemed a conscientious friend at the time, eager to comfort Brandon after Elizabeth’s supposed betrayal. He could still see her face, eyes shining with unshed tears, as she promised she would do anything to help. Could she have been hinting at a proposal? She’d certainly been angry when he’d told her he was heading to Texas with his brother.

  “What about St. Matthew’s?” she’d exclaimed. “I thought you were going to be the curate. I would have been happy there.”

  At the time, he’d thought she’d meant she’d have been happy if she had been a minister offered the position. Now he couldn’t help wondering if she had hoped to join the congregation of the prestigious church as his wife.

  He couldn’t very well say that to Elizabeth. It was all conjecture, and not very kind conjecture, about a woman she’d considered a friend. And it made him seem arrogant in the extreme to think a woman would go to such trouble to catch his eye.

  So, to Elizabeth, it would appear that he had failed her not once, but twice, and both times when so much was at stake. But what else could he do? Whether he liked it or not, the Browns were family. He was just the local minister. By law and in the eyes of the church, the Browns held precedence.

  Even if no one would love those boys more than him and Elizabeth.

  He was crossing in front of the general store when Mrs. Arundel and Mrs. Hickey stepped out of the door. Brandon nearly groaned aloud. Not now, Lord. I don’t know if I can be pleasant at the moment.

  He tried to detour around them, but Mrs. Arundel inclined her head, the feather in her hat making a little bow. “Pastor. I understand we’ve found the babies’ family.”

  Of course, her husband would have read every telegram Jeb had sent.

  “It appears so,” Brandon said. “Now, if you will excuse me, ladies...”