Everleigh flipped her hand at her aunt in a gesture of it's over. She was done with the drama and tension, and frankly, she just wanted her peaceful life back. But now she'd have a scandal tied to her name.
"I'll be taking a nap."
Walking into the bedroom, she heard the sound of bells jingling coming down the lane. She peered out the window and saw Seth driving the sleigh trimmed with garland and silver bells. He was certainly all decked out for the holidays. Yet, she just didn't feel the spirit and she'd made up her mind. She wasn't marrying him, unless he told her he loved her.
Regardless that she loved him, she was holding out for a man who loved and wanted her.
Sitting on the bed, she heard her aunt and uncle invite him into their home. Maybe she should stay inside her room and refuse to see him because she feared he wasn't going to say the words that would make her commit to him. And without those three little words, there was no reason for them to continue talking.
Her aunt knocked on the door. "Everleigh, Seth's here."
"Tell him to go away."
Her aunt opened the door and peered in. "You have to speak with him."
"No, I don't and I won't."
If she didn't, how would she ever know if he cared? She would wonder the rest of her life if she'd walked away from love.
With a sigh, she rose from the bed. "All right, he's got five minutes."
She strolled into the parlor of her aunt and uncle's small house, doing her best to remain aloof and appear calm. "Seth."
"Everleigh, you're looking beautiful."
"Thank you," she said, wondering if they would continue to talk like two strangers. "I thought you were going to be here at eleven?"
"That was my intentions, but I had to go to town."
She nodded, trying her best not to act like she cared, when inside her heart was swelling with love and longing for this man. And all she had to do was say yes and he would be hers for eternity without the one emotion she needed to hear him express.
"Everything is arranged. We're to be wed tomorrow night at seven o'clock in the church. There's going to be a huge party to celebrate the new doctor saving so many lives from the measles epidemic. So our wedding will be the highlight of the celebration."
Did he just say what she thought? He'd assumed that she would agree to be his wife and marry him without even asking her? What was wrong with him?
She stared at him incredulously. "What? You arranged for our wedding before I agreed to marry you?"
He licked his lips and shuffled nervously, but his gaze never left hers. "I know you may or may not say yes. I could be left standing at the altar once again, but I wanted to show you that I'm serious. I want to marry you. Your uncle mentioned you might marry me and return to New York."
He sighed. "I know you have a big impressive job waiting for you back in New York, but I thought maybe I could get you the same type of job here. No, it wouldn't be for a worldwide newspaper, but it would still be doing what you love. I spoke to Tom and he's agreed to hire you as a journalist for the newspaper. All you have to do is write one article a week for the Mistletoe Gazette. As my wife, you're not expected to work, but if you want to, you can."
Her mouth fell open and her insides clenched at the realization of what he'd done. He'd gotten her a job, and not as a typist, but an actual journalist writing articles. Her dream position that she didn't even have in New York. She would be writing for a newspaper.
"That's why I was late. It came to me last night that maybe you could do what you loved right here in Mistletoe."
"Seth," she whispered, her heart clenching. He'd thought about her enough to get her a job, but he still hadn't said those three little words she needed to hear.
"I know our courtship wasn't the normal kind. And we've only known each other for days. But I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay and marry me."
She kept gazing at him, waiting, and wondering if he was going to express his emotions, or if he was unable to say the words she needed to hear to convince her to marry him.
He clenched his fist. "I'm not very good at this. But I wanted to tell you, I will be at the church tomorrow at seven, waiting. You think about it and meet me there if you want to get married."
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his Christmas Wish. "I know it's not Christmas yet, but I brought our Christmas wishes and thought they should be on your aunt and uncle's tree."
Why had he brought their Christmas wishes? She remembered what she'd written on hers, knowing even then that she loved him, undecided about how she wanted this time to end. Did she want to return to New York and her job or did she want to stay and be Seth's wife. She'd expressed her confusion on her Christmas wish and asked for clarity.
Walking to the tree, he hung the two wishes and then turned to face them.
"I have to go. I have animals to feed before it gets dark." He glanced at Everleigh. "I'll be waiting at the church tomorrow night."
Everleigh stared at the closed door Seth had just walked through. The man was the most aggravating, irritating, unemotional man she'd ever met and she loved him with all her heart. Trying to keep her here, he'd found her a job. Not a typist position, but a genuine actual journalist writing for the newspaper. And it made her love him even more.
But he still hadn't said that magical phrase.
"That boy is confounded," her aunt said. "I think he loves you, but just hasn't said the words."
"He doesn't realize that you women need to hear them words before you can commit to a man." His uncle shook his head. "And I'm not going to be the one to enlighten him. This one he's got to figure out for himself."
Everleigh stood listening to her aunt and uncle and wondered what should she do. He didn't say he loved her, yet his actions spoke like a man in love. He'd driven into town and gotten her dream job. He'd made the arrangements and even put himself waiting at the church for her to appear, after he'd already been left humiliated waiting at the altar. It was like he was doing everything, but not saying the actual words and taking a huge risk to suffer once again the same embarrassment.
So what did she do? Take a chance on him someday loving her or leave and return to New York?
"Are you going to marry him?" her aunt said.
Ignoring her aunt, she walked over to the tree where he'd hung their Christmas wishes. Picking up the paper tied with string, she read his note:
To make my ranch a home, but above all else for Everleigh to be happy.
He wanted her to be happy? Wasn't that a sign of a man in love, when he put her needs before his own? And didn't all his deeds from the last ten days show a caring man who would feel an obligation toward the people in his life and wanted their happiness and wellbeing above his own. He could say he loved her in actions, just not in words. And why would she give up a man like Seth because he couldn't express with words what his demeanor told her?
Was she being too harsh by putting her need for a verbal confirmation above how he was expressing his love in his actions? And he would be waiting at the altar for her. He was taking a risk, hoping she'd show to marry him at the church after he'd already been stood up once. He had faith in her--in them? Why didn't she?
Maybe she should reconsider and give him a chance.
She loved him. She wanted a life with him. So what was her problem besides those three little words?
Seth Ketchum watched the people milling about the party, his stomach clenched, his throat almost paralyzed with fear. He was either the biggest fool or the stupidest man alive. Yesterday, when he faced Everleigh, he'd meant to tell her he loved her, he wanted her to be his wife, but he'd stood there in front of her aunt and uncle and froze. He'd told her everything but the most important details as to why she should marry him. And today he wouldn't be a bit surprised if she didn't show up. He couldn’t blame her.
After all, they both wanted marriages like their parents, where they loved their partners heart and soul. And yet he couldn't spit out those thr
ee important words.
Every woman dreamed of a proposal. Well, today, if Everleigh appeared, he'd fulfill her dreams. He had it all planned out.
"Big day," Bart said to him, clapping him on the back of his shoulder.
"Yes," he said, barely able to talk. He kept watching the door, waiting, hoping, praying she'd appear.
The party had been going for quite some time. A big banner posted in the reception area of the church said, Thank You, Dr. Callahan.
From the stories he heard, the doctor had done a remarkable job of saving a lot of lives. An epidemic could wipe out a small town. And yet she'd saved so many to enjoy another Christmas with their loved ones.
He swallowed, trying to calm the nerves that threatened to consume him.
Everleigh walked in the door and his heart squeezed his chest painfully.
"Excuse me," he said to the preacher, as his feet moved toward her like a magnet to steel.
She'd shown up. But was she going to marry him.
Dressed in a simple white dress, she looked beautiful. He hoped the dress was the answer to his prayers.
Grabbing her hands, he dropped to one knee.
"Seth?" she said, her eyes widening.
"Everleigh Walsh, you stormed into my life along with a blizzard, snowing us in together. During those days together, you refused to let me hibernate from life any longer and taught me that I was worthy of love. You wrapped up my heart just like a Christmas present that will never stop giving. You are the missing piece of my heart. I love you more today than I did yesterday and my love will continue to grow. I want with you the kind of love our parents shared. Will you marry me?"
The crowd had grown silent as they watched the couple.
Smiling, though her eyes were filled with tears, Everleigh pulled him to his feet, holding his hands. "I came here today to marry you, not knowing if you loved me or not, but only that your actions showed me what your lips could not say. I came here on faith, hoping you loved me like I love you. But once again, your behavior has proven that you're the man for me. I love you with all my heart, Seth Ketchum, and I'd be honored to be your wife."
The crowd clapped, people cheering.
He ignored everyone around them and pulled her into his arms. "We're getting married."
"I wasn't going to leave a good man like you standing at the altar."
Love flooded his body and he knew he'd found the forever kind of love that his parents shared.
"And I wasn't going to let my scandalous suffragette not fulfill her dreams."
She laughed. "I think I found the most important dream right here in your arms in Mistletoe, Montana. Let's get married. I want to wake up Christmas morning in your arms as your wife."
<<<<>>>>
Want to Read Seth’s Parent’s Story?
1846 Indian Territory
Death spiraled toward the sky in a hazy plume of thick black smoke, spreading its raucous odor across the hilly countryside. From his chestnut mare, Wade Ketchum gazed upon the burned wagons, scattered furniture and littered bodies. The sight seemed unreal in the early morning light, but the woman kneeling beside a freshly dug grave, shoulders shaking with grief, made the scene painfully real.
Wade slid from his saddle, the creak of leather echoing in the deadly quiet. Alert, he walked towards the woman, his boots crunching on the hard ground. As she bent over the grave, her sunbonnet rested against her slender shoulders, exposing a soft mass of mahogany tresses at her nape.
Her head was bowed her hands clasped together.
"Please, Father, I need your help. Guide us through Your wilderness."
Wade hesitated. The woman was praying.
"Send someone to help us. I can't do this alone." She sobbed. "Our lives are in Your hands. Amen."
Wade cleared his throat.
She jumped up, whirling around at the sound. Her gaze collided with his, and her shoulders seemed to sag with relief.
"I was afraid it was the Pawnee returning," she said, her voice filled with relief, her eyes wary of him.
"Are you hurt?"
"No, just terribly frightened,” she answered, her voice shaking with suppressed emotion.
Wade glanced at the camp. Smoke drifted across the area giving it a ghostly appearance, nothing stirred. The attack had been recent, and even one survivor was a miracle.
A feeling of unease crept up his spine. Why was she still here, vulnerable to another attack? “What happened?”
“The Pawnee ambushed our wagon train late yesterday evening. I've been trying to hitch up our wagon." She rambled nervously on. "I was beginning to wonder if we were going to all die here in this barren country." The woman held out a shaky right hand. “I’m Rachel Cooke.”
“Wade Ketchum, ma’am.” Gripping her cold palm, he realized the woman was skittish as a wild horse.
She withdrew her hand from his, wrapping her arms around her middle as if to protect herself. She stared at the destruction of what once had been fifteen or more wagons, and seemed to sag before his eyes. One wagon stood apart from the others, the canvas singed and ripped, but otherwise still intact.
"We were fortunate," she whispered, as a sob escaped her throat. “Somehow our wagon was spared.” She wrung her hands fretfully. "But the oxen were spooked by the raid, and I haven’t been able to hitch them, to take us away from here.”
“Ma’am, I’m surprised you still have oxen.”
“They were down at the creek being watered when the attack occurred. We heard the noise and hid in the bushes.”
Wade wanted to reach out and touch her, reassure her somehow. Knowing he had to be in Fort Laramie in three days, knowing she would only slow him down, and yet knowing he couldn’t leave her behind, he said, "I'll hitch your wagon and help you reach the next town."
"Just get us out of here. Away from all this. I don't care where you’re going," she said, her voice trembling with fear.
"I won't leave you, ma'am," Wade said, trying to dispel the fear from her eyes, nervous about the possible return of the Pawnee.
His gazed wandered to the single grave. “Your husband?”
She followed his gaze. "No, it’s Miss Cooke. The grave is my father’s." She choked up momentarily. “I couldn’t stand the thought of animals or Indians desecrating his body. So I spent the morning, burying him the best I could. But the others, God rest their souls, I couldn’t help them.”
While not a classic beauty, she was pretty, in an unusual way. There was a wholesomeness of face and spirit that Wade was not accustomed to in a woman.
He sneaked another glance, his gaze taking in the delicate profile and lush curves. Those curves would be a definite distraction.
Wade picked up the hitch and approached the oxen. He slipped the yoke around their necks and proceeded to fasten it on the animals. "I have to be in Fort Laramie in three days. I'll take you that far, but then you’re on your own."
She wrapped her arms around herself, as if a chill had passed over her. "I’m so grateful you came along. We were on our way to The Dalles, Oregon, to my father's new church."
"You should be able to catch up with another wagon train in Fort Laramie, Miss Cooke. They’ll see you on to Oregon." He checked the ropes one last time. "Are you ready? I don't want to linger here any longer than necessary."
"I agree. Just let me get the children," she said.
"Children?" Wade heard himself blurt the word. "I thought you said you weren’t married? That no one else survived."
"Just my sister and three orphans. My father was a minister. We ran an orphanage back home, in Tennessee."
Suddenly, a small army crashed through the brush. Wade whirled around and pulled his gun, expecting to face Pawnee and came face-to-face with a beauty. The young woman held a small baby in her arms and a little girl of about seven tugged a freckled-faced adolescent boy behind her. They all stopped, wide eyes fixed on him and his gun.
Wade stared at the group in disbelief. "What the hell?" He shoved the wea
pon back in his holster.
"Mr. Ketchum, please watch your language!" Rachel exclaimed.
He didn't have time for children. They were little creatures that cried or whined most of the time and had a way of getting under your skin, twisting your heart. He didn't need the aggravation, or the memories they evoked.
The little girl looked wide-eyed at him, and Wade growled, "I don't know, Miss Cooke. I didn't bargain for this."
Catching sight of Rachel, the baby started to fuss, holding out his arms. The young woman carrying the infant grimaced with distaste. She hurried over to Rachel, her long skirts swishing, and shoved the baby into Rachel's arms. "It’s your turn to take care of this wet, fussy brat."
With a toss of her blond curls, the other woman informed Rachel, "We couldn't stand waiting in that ravine any longer. The children had to see you were all right.”
"I’m fine, Becky. This is Mr. Ketchum. He’s going to see us to the next town."
Becky carefully assessed him from head to toe. For a moment he felt like he was sized up, tagged, and numbered. Trouble was etched in her smile, in the way she walked and in every line of her seductive body.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Ketchum," she cooed.
Wade shook his head in bewilderment. These two women couldn’t possibly be sisters. They were about as much alike as a skunk and a porcupine.
"Rachel, the wagons--they're all burned," the little girl cried.
She knelt with the baby on her hip, putting herself at the child's level. "Yes, Grace, I know."
"Where is Papa Cooke?" the child asked.
"Remember what we talked about last night?"
"But I want to see him."
Tears filled Rachel's eyes. "We won't see him again until we get to heaven. Let’s say a prayer for Papa and everyone else before we leave."
Wade swore beneath his breath. "Miss Cooke, we don't have time for a prayer service. Those Indians could return any time."
She looked at him the way a schoolmarm would gaze at a misbehaving child.
"Please, Mr. Ketchum, the children and I need just a few moments to say good-bye. We'll make it quick."
Wild Western Women Mistletoe, Montana: Sweet Western Historical Holiday Box Set Page 19