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The Bride's Matchmaking Triplets

Page 22

by Regina Scott


  Mrs. Hickey sniffed. “Who are these people? Do we know they’re good Christians?”

  “Good enough that they’d travel a great distance seeking three lost boys,” Brandon informed her, hearing the testiness in his own voice.

  “They’re like the Good Shepherd who sought after His sheep,” Mrs. Arundel said. “Still, Pastor, I am very disappointed in you.”

  Oh, but she’d picked the wrong day to argue with him.

  “I can understand why,” Brandon told her. “I am coming to see that I am a very disappointing fellow.”

  He had the satisfaction of seeing both sets of brows go up.

  “I came to Texas,” he told the ladies of his congregation, “because the girl I loved broke my heart, but when she arrived on my doorstep, did I welcome her back? Did I forgive and forget as the Good Book advises? No. I allowed myself to pretend I didn’t know her, to listen politely while women who should be glad to know her judged and vilified her. I let her into my house, but I didn’t let her into my heart.”

  He bent and met their gazes in turn, watching their eyes widen. “Do you know why, ladies? Because I was taught to keep my heart well hidden. All my life I tried to earn my father’s love. I thought if I did well enough in school, if I excelled at sports, if I had talented, popular friends, he would approve of me. He never did. Each unkind word felt like a lash. So I retreated. It took me years to see God as the loving Father, not the Almighty Judge. And yet I keep expecting to be judged and found wanting, by Elizabeth, by my congregation. No more.”

  He straightened. “I am your minister, and I am a man. I make mistakes, and I am thankful every day that my God is big enough to forgive them. Now I intend to forgive myself and go tell my wife that I love her and she is the only one for me.”

  Mrs. Arundel drew herself up. “All I can say, Pastor, is it’s about time.”

  Brandon stared at her.

  Mrs. Hickey nodded. “She is a lovely lady, and you are a dear man. And I’ll gladly speak to anyone who claims otherwise.”

  Words failed him. Thankfully, self-preservation did not. He fled while he could, with their well-wishes ringing in his ears.

  Only You, Father, could have made that happen. Thank You! Now, please, give me the words to tell Elizabeth how I feel.

  He heard voices as he entered the parsonage and resigned himself to dealing with another crisis before he could speak to Elizabeth. He found her in the kitchen with Jo, and it took him a moment to realize the second voice he’d heard was the girl’s. He paused in the doorway, afraid to interrupt. But Elizabeth must have sensed him, for she turned. Her bright smile lifted his heart.

  “See who came to talk with me?” she asked. “And, oh, Brandon, but she has something important to say.”

  Brandon smiled at the girl, who ducked her head.

  “I’d love to hear it,” he encouraged her.

  Jo raised her head, glanced between him and Elizabeth, then squared her shoulders.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Brown are lying,” she rasped out. “They aren’t kin.”

  Brandon’s gaze snapped to Elizabeth. She rose with a nod.

  “We can’t let the triplets go, Brandon. They aren’t related to the boys, and Jo can prove it. She spoke with the real mother at the fair.”

  Could it be true? Thanksgiving rose inside him, nearly lifted him off his feet. He pulled Elizabeth into his arms, held her against his heart for a moment. Praise came swift and easy in a single word.

  Hallelujah!

  When he released Elizabeth, she beamed up at him, and he could see tears on her cinnamon-colored lashes. Brandon knew he owed his thanks to another as well. He crouched beside Jo’s chair.

  “Thank you, sweetheart. This is just what I need to save our boys. Do you think you could tell Sheriff Fuller what you told Elizabeth?”

  Jo shrank in on herself.

  Elizabeth turned to put an arm about the girl’s shoulders. “It’s all right. Sheriff Fuller won’t hurt you.”

  Jo’s lower lip trembled, and tears pooled in her eyes.

  Elizabeth gave her a hug. “Don’t worry, Jo. You don’t have to say a word. You gave us enough information that we’ll know how to trip up the Browns.”

  Brandon nodded. “We’ll do it in the morning, when they come for the boys. I’ll go now to explain the situation to Jeb and ask him to be here just in case things get difficult. Jo, let’s get you back to the children’s home before the Tysons worry. Don’t say anything to the Browns. You leave that to me and Elizabeth.”

  And he could hardly wait.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Elizabeth doubted she would sleep that night. The triplets woke hungry and quarrelsome, and she spent the next couple of hours feeding and changing them, then cajoling them into a better humor. As if he feared someone might come for them if he stepped away, Brandon stayed by her side the entire time. He knew just what to do to put a smile on Theo’s face, could wrangle Jasper out of and into a diaper faster than anyone she knew. As she settled them into bed for the night, he bent to kiss each boy on the forehead.

  “Never doubt, boys,” he murmured, “your first mama loved you and your Mama and Papa Stillwater love you too, no matter what.” He glanced at Elizabeth as if seeking consensus.

  “No matter what,” she promised the boys.

  “How about a song?” he asked the triplets, who wiggled under his gaze as if they couldn’t wait.

  “Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee, all through the night,” Brandon started.

  “Guardian angels God will send thee,

  All through the night.

  Soft the drowsy hours are creeping.

  Hill and vale in slumber sleeping,

  We our loving vigil keeping.

  All through the night.”

  Elizabeth knew the song. The nanny at her first position had sung it to the children there. She joined Brandon on the second verse. But as the third verse drew close, Brandon touched her hand, and she quieted to hear him. His gaze was all for her.

  “Love, to thee my thoughts are turning.

  All through the night.

  All for thee my heart is yearning,

  All through the night.

  Though sad fate our lives did sever.

  Parting did not last forever.

  There’s a hope that leaves me never,

  All through the night.”

  Tears were starting in her eyes, and she looked away. His finger touched her chin, drew her gaze back to his. In his silver eyes, she saw the answers she’d been seeking. He bent his head and kissed her, the touch soft, sweet, so very precious.

  Eli crowed, and Jasper clapped his hands as they parted. Even Theo was beaming at them.

  “That’s enough from you for tonight,” Elizabeth told them, feeling her cheeks heating. “Good night, boys.”

  “Sleep well,” Brandon agreed, and he slipped her hand into his and led her out into the hallway.

  She thought he might speak of love then, but it seemed his concerns about the situation echoed hers.

  “Maybe it would be best if you and the boys head out to Bo’s ranch tomorrow morning,” he suggested, fingers laced with hers. “If the Browns prove difficult, I don’t want you to see it.”

  Elizabeth offered him a determined smile. “I’ll ask Fannie to watch the boys in their room, but I intend to be at your side when you confront those villains. To think they could make off with our boys. The charlatans!”

  Brandon gave her hand a squeeze. “We don’t know their motivation. Some families long for children. Perhaps Mrs. Brown is barren.”

  “Many orphans need homes,” Elizabeth protested. “Some much closer than Little Horn to Fredonia, if that’s where the Browns really came from. Why travel all the way here? Somethi
ng’s very wrong.”

  “And we’re going to make it right,” Brandon promised. “But there’s something else that must be made right, Elizabeth.” He gazed down at their joined hands, then up into her eyes, his face turning solemn. “I failed you in Cambridge. I wasn’t there when you needed me. That will never happen again.”

  The last corner of the shell around her heart chipped off. “And I judged you harshly. Forgive me. You are a fine man, Brandon, and I know I can count on you.”

  “Until my dying day,” he vowed. “Elizabeth, I love you. I always have. I don’t know if you can find it in your heart to consider changing our agreement...”

  In answer, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.

  She felt his lips turn up in a smile a moment before his arms came around her, pressing her close. She reveled in the feel of being loved, protected and cherished. For so long she’d wondered where she should go, what she should do. Now she knew. All her life had led her to Brandon.

  And she would never leave.

  * * *

  Morning came early, it seemed. Concerned about the boys, she had stayed with them through the night, Brandon dozing on a chair in the corner. She’d watched his lashes sweep down over his quicksilver eyes, listened to the sound of his breathing as his chest rose and fell. Her husband. Her love. Joy made it difficult to sleep.

  She felt as if she’d barely closed her eyes before a giggle from Eli woke her. He was sitting up in the bed Brandon had made for him, chanting “baby, mama.” As she climbed from bed, Jasper and Theo joined him, sitting up and bouncing as if they couldn’t wait to get up and get going.

  “Everything all right?” Brandon asked, words almost eclipsed by his yawn as he stretched long legs and rose.

  “Everything is perfect,” Elizabeth said, smiling at him. He came and pecked her on the cheek before lifting up Jasper and Eli and carrying them out of the room to change while she dressed and changed Theo. The baby’s brown eyes followed her as she drew out the triplets’ clothes. Funny how only a few hours ago she’d thought this might be the last morning with her boys.

  A shiver went through her, but she shook it off. She had faith in Brandon. God hadn’t brought them through so much to abandon them now. They would not lose their boys.

  Jo and Gil showed up at the door bright and early, and, while Elizabeth fixed breakfast, Brandon sent the boy back to the children’s home to ask Fannie to join the Browns when they came. For once, Jo declined to eat with the babies, and Elizabeth wondered whether she was worried about the outcome of the meeting. Then she realized that Jo’s face was clean, her hair combed and her movements relaxed. She even whispered things in the boys’ ears, setting them to grinning. Very likely she’d been sufficiently fed for the first time in a long time. Fannie’s loving care was already having an impact.

  Elizabeth took Fannie aside when she arrived with the Browns. “Would you watch the boys with Jo and Gil?” she whispered.

  Fannie nodded, face lined with sorrow. “I’m so sorry the triplets will be leaving you, Elizabeth.”

  “Don’t fret,” Elizabeth told her. “God works all things to the good for those who love Him and are called unto His purposes.” She clapped her hand to her cheek. “Oh, my! I used Mrs. Arundel’s list!”

  “And quoted the good Book,” Mrs. Tyson said with a smile. “Just like a pastor’s wife.”

  Elizabeth gave her a hug and sent Jo an encouraging smile before going to join Brandon in the parlor, where the Browns and Sheriff Fuller were waiting, sitting on the mismatched chairs.

  “You know how fond Elizabeth and I have become of the boys,” Brandon was saying, his polite smile once more on his face. “Would you mind telling us more about their mother?”

  “More?” Mrs. Brown exchanged glances with her husband as if puzzled by the request.

  “Yes,” Elizabeth encouraged, taking a seat near Brandon. “Was she fair-haired or dark like the boys? Do they have her eyes or mannerisms?”

  “Oh.” Mr. Brown chuckled. “I recall her hair was fair, like the missus’. And she had a real nice smile.”

  “Sweet girl,” his wife agreed. “Always good to her kin. That’s why we know she would want the babies raised by family.”

  Elizabeth clenched her fists to keep from commenting. Now that she knew the truth about the couple, she felt every lie. They never called each other by name, afraid they might use the wrong one, perhaps? And Mr. Brown had called his place a spread, a ranch, while his wife talked about a farm with horses. Elizabeth wanted to throw it all in their faces, but no doubt they’d find a way to explain everything. For once, she could only be glad for Brandon’s composure.

  “I’m sure she would approve of family,” he said to the couple. “She was your aunt’s child, did you say, Mrs. Brown?”

  She nodded, handkerchief springing to her hand. “That’s right, Pastor.”

  “So your aunt married a Smith?” Jeb drawled, eyes narrowing.

  Mr. Brown frowned at him. So did Mrs. Brown. “No,” she said. “Harriet married a Smith. Her pa was a Wentworth.”

  “And when exactly did she wed Mr. Smith?” Jeb asked.

  “About a year before the boys were born,” she supplied.

  Had they rehearsed that the lies fell so easily from their lips? Elizabeth wanted to stand, shake out her skirts and leave the room in protest, but she knew she had to see this through.

  Brandon leaned forward. “And they lived near you, in Fredonia?”

  “Yes, of course,” Mrs. Brown said. “We told you all this already.”

  Her husband shook his head. “I must say I’m disappointed in you, Pastor. Don’t think I can’t see what you and the sheriff are doing.”

  Brandon raised his brows, though Elizabeth knew he was sure of his purpose. “What are we doing?”

  Mr. Brown pushed out of his chair, face reddening. “You and your missus just want the Lone Star Cowboy League’s money to raise those boys. Can’t be easy making do on a minister’s mite in these parts. Well, I say for shame. Now, turn over our kin, or I’ll swear out a complaint against you right here.”

  * * *

  Brandon nearly gritted his teeth. Just when he’d thought he had the Browns ready to admit to their lies, the man had turned the tables on him. But he had no doubt the fellow had just confessed his own motives for wanting the boys. He was after the Lone Star Cowboy League’s support. And Brandon chilled to think what might have happened to the triplets once the Browns had been given the money.

  Before he could speak, however, Elizabeth swept to her feet. “The shame, Mr. Brown,” she said, voice ringing, “is on you. We know that the babies’ mother wasn’t named Harriet Smith.”

  Mrs. Brown pressed her fingers to her lips. “Oh, dear. Poor Harriet must have been so distraught at the end. What did she claim to go by? Beth Wallin? Samantha Everard? Anne Fairchild?”

  Was she trying to guess? Brandon didn’t wait for her to stumble upon the right answer. “We also know her hometown. Sheriff Fuller sent a telegram there this morning, and the answer confirmed that a local rancher’s wife was delivered of three babies almost a year ago.”

  “Doesn’t mean those are your boys,” Mr. Brown insisted. “Seems to me you’re looking for any reason not to let those babies go to their family.”

  “On the contrary,” Brandon told him. “My wife and I were willing to give up the boys to family, but it turns out you aren’t related.”

  Mrs. Brown sniffed. “Oh, Pastor, how could you say such things when we have been open and aboveboard?”

  She had to be one of the most convincing liars he’d ever met, but the tearful reply only reminded him of Elizabeth’s so-called friend Florence, and he was now certain that lady’s tears had been just as false.

  “The question is, ma’am,” Sheriff Fuller put in, “how cou
ld you? You tried to take advantage of our good nature. We may be openhearted in Little Horn, but we aren’t fools.” He rose. “I’ll have to ask you both to come with me. I’m waiting for an answer from a few other towns. Instead of asking about the Browns this time, I asked whether anyone had news of a couple of your description swindling folks out of their money. I have a feeling the answers will be enlightening.”

  Mr. Brown squared his shoulders, head coming up to meet Jeb’s gaze. “Now, see here, Sheriff. I don’t much like you maligning my good name.”

  Jeb shrugged. “Far as I can see, it’s not even your name. But I have a jail cell just waiting to welcome you, whoever you are.”

  Mr. Brown blanched. His gaze shot to his wife, who let her face cloud further.

  “I’m sure this is all a mistake,” she said, twisting her handkerchief in her fingers. “How were we to know our Harriet wasn’t the mother of your boys?” She laid a hand against her brow. “Oh, this is terrible! Dear Harriet must still be out there, alone and friendless!”

  “That’s right,” her husband said, taking her arm to help her to her feet. “Our search isn’t over, darling. We need to catch the next train out. Sorry, Sheriff, but I must insist. A woman’s life may depend on it.”

  Jeb crossed his arms over his chest. “The life of Harriet Smith, runaway mother of triplets?”

  “Sick runaway mother of triplets,” Mrs. Brown reminded him. “It’s such a tragedy. Oh, I don’t know how I can bear it.” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

  Brandon wasn’t sure whether to applaud her acting or turn away in disgust.

  “There, now,” her husband soothed, edging them toward the door. “We’ll go home, check with the neighbors. Maybe she wrote while we were gone.”

  Jeb blocked their way. “You’ll be free to leave Little Horn once I’ve verified you aren’t wanted for any other crimes.”

  Mrs. Brown raised her head and clutched her heart with one hand. “Wanted! Why, Sheriff, what have we done besides tried to help three little babies?”

  “Impersonation,” Brandon supplied. “Accepting money under false pretenses.”

 

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