Wagon Train Wedding: Christian historical romance (Love on the Santa Fe Trail Book 2)
Page 22
He had placed a log close to the fire and they sat side by side as they ate supper.
As soon as they finished, she said, “I have a gift for you.” She pulled out the sampler she’d labored over, each stitch sewn with love.
She’d made a house with flowers at every window and a swing on the porch. A river flowed nearby. Children played by the house under the branches of a blossom-laden tree. On the door, she’d stitched the word joy. As a title, she written happiness and contentment.
He took it. “Judith, this is beautiful.” He cleared his throat. “I have nothing for you.”
She touched the picture. “You gave me the promise this picture portrays.” She repeated the words he had spoken to her not so long ago. “They are penned in the flyleaf of a poetry book. But most of all, they are here.” She touched her chest. “In my heart.” Her throat tightened, but she went on. “You are the best gift I could ask for.”
“Things might not be easy in the future.”
She smiled. “I don’t care so long as we face the future together. It is not an easy life I want. It’s to share with you whatever God sends, be it trials and tribulations or an overabundance of good things.”
He folded the bit of cloth and tucked it carefully into his pocket. Then he took her in his arms and they kissed.
Their future promised to be one full of joy and contentment.
Sneak peek of Wagon Train Matchmaker
“Why don’t you and Warren get married? Then everyone would have someone and be happy.” Ten-year-old Polly’s blue-green eyes filled with challenge.
Eighteen-year-old Mary Mae Clark gasped at the child’s question to her. Her insides burned with embarrassment.
Warren Russell sat across the campfire and appeared busy fixing a piece of harness. With his brother’s recent marriage to her sister, Mary Mae and Warren were now related, but she had never thought of him as anything more than a brother-in-law.
Was it remotely possible he hadn’t heard the suggestion?
He put aside the lengths of leather and pushed to his feet. “Marriage does not make everyone happy,” he said, with some feeling. “I, for one, have no intention of getting married.” He gave Mary Mae a look rife with accusation. Did he think she’d put Polly up to this?
Mary Mae rose slowly and met his gaze. “I am no more interested in marriage than you.” She’d had her fill of thinking a man—any man—could be trusted to hang around long enough to make a home with her. Her pa, fine man that he was, had always preferred to be on the trail and then, when she and her sister, Donna Grace, wanted him to escort them to Santa Fe, he decided he didn’t want to be on the trail. Good thing Luke had offered to marry Donna Grace and provide the male escort the wagon train master demanded. Then there was Randolph. Oh the dreams she’d built with that man, thinking he shared them. He’d allowed her to think so, even encouraged it. Then he up and headed for the gold fields, seeking better things than a wife and home could give him.
Polly stood between them, quivering. “But why not? Everyone else is married. Except Uncle Sam and he’s got me. I thought everyone got married and lived happily ever after.”
Mary Mae couldn’t speak to the happy-ever-after part. She’d never gotten the chance to find out, thanks to Randolph’s sudden departure. Nope, she’d seen a whole lot more of for-a-while-and-leaving than happy-and-staying.
Sam Braddock, Polly’s uncle and guardian, strode toward them. He paused and looked from one troubled face to the other. “Something wrong?”
Polly raced to her uncle and Sam swept her up into his arms.
Mary Mae’s throat constricted. How secure Polly was in the knowledge her uncle loved her and cared enough to keep her with him. What had Polly said? That he’d promised her a home for Christmas. Wouldn’t that be wonderful for the child? Perhaps Sam had a sweetheart somewhere to share his home with. At least Polly hadn’t suggested Mary Mae wed her uncle.
Her heart sank at the way Polly studied her uncle and then turned to Mary Mae with a gleam in her eyes. Don’t say it, she silently begged the child.
He was a fine man and all. She simply wasn’t interested. No. She’d make a life for herself back in Santa Fe where she’d grown up. One that didn’t depend on a man. Besides her wish to return to the place, a more urgent matter called her. She’d received a letter from her dear friend, Sophia, now widowed with a baby boy. Sophia’s in-laws were threatening to get guardianship of Sophia’s son. Mary Mae planned to appeal to her Grandfather Ramos to intervene on Sophia’s behalf. She’d already written her grandfather, but knew he would listen better if she presented her request in person.
Not wanting to be around when Warren or Polly explained what had happened, Mary Mae stepped across the wagon tongue and wandered down the line of wagons. The melody of a harmonica came from the camp where the teamsters hunkered down.
The wagon master, Buck, felt the teamsters would prefer not to share their evening with the paying travellers. Mary Mae guessed it was as much the other way. The travellers likely didn’t care to listen to the rough talk of the teamsters, though they surely enjoyed the music that came every night from that direction.
It was cold as she moved away from the fire and she turned back, hoping Warren had moved on, or that the others had come back to the fire. If not, she would make her way to bed. Donna Grace and Luke had married before they left Independence and shared the wagon Mary Mae and her sister had brought. Then Warren’s sister, Judith, had married Gil, the scout. They had taken over the Russell wagon. It left Mary Mae feeling like she had no place to call her own, and she’d spent time riding in the Braddock wagon with Polly. But Polly’s talk of marriage, and the look she had given Mary Mae when Sam held her, made Mary Mae uncomfortable doing so again.
But she had to sleep somewhere. She’d put up their little tent and sleep alone. Just like she meant to make her way through life alone. Independent. Free. She sighed. Free sounded a lot like lonely, but she wouldn’t let that deter her.
She marched back to the camp and saw that the others were busy preparing for the night. She went to the back of the Clark wagon and grunted as she struggled to get the tent from underneath a pile of bedding.
Warren reached over her shoulder and pulled the canvas roll out.
“Thank you,” she said, keeping her voice as polite as she could.
“I’m not interested in marriage to anyone, so don’t take it personal. Doesn’t mean I can’t be a gentleman and help a lady when she needs it.”
She murmured another thank you. “This is one lady who is going to learn not to depend on a man for anything. But don’t take it personal.”
Coming soon!
Also by Linda Ford
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Montana Skies series
Cry of My Heart
Forever in My Heart
Everlasting Love
Inheritance of Love
Historical Romance
Dakota Brides series
Temporary Bride
Abandoned Bride
Second-Chance Bride
Reluctant Bride
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War Brides series
Lizzie
Maryelle
Irene
Grace
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Wild Rose Country
Crane’s Bride
Hannah’s Dream
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Cowboy Bodyguard
Copyright © 2018 by Linda Ford
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