To Catch a Bride

by Gina Welborn

  “Ellen will wonder? Or you?”

  She jerked her gaze to him. “Me? This isn’t about me.”

  There was a long silence before he spoke again. “Then why are you trembling?”

  “I’m not—” Her words died as she noticed her hands. She clenched them until they stung, yet her heart continued to race. “As much as I would like to have hope, there is none.”

  David took hold of her hands. “There is always hope to be found. You’ve suffered multiple miscarriages and yet carry yourself with an optimism that speaks hope with every breath.” He squeezed her fingers. “Share the pain of your losses with Ellen. Let her know she’s not alone. Or maybe all you need to do is sit with her.”

  “You make it sound so simple.”

  “It is. Not everything in life is complicated.”

  Marilyn studied the way his hands covered hers. “I’m afraid,” she whispered.

  “Of?”

  “Losing my baby.” Seven months along and she still didn’t feel safe enough to let hope bloom.

  David turned and wrapped his arm around her back. “It won’t happen.”

  “What if it does?”

  He drew her against his side. “I’ll sit with you.”

  Chapter 6

  Dusk had turned the sky lilac along the western horizon and set the clouds ablaze with pink light. The days were shortening, although the sun wasn’t gone long enough to cut the heat yet.

  Marilyn continued up the hill toward David’s store with more determination than what she’d felt the day she stepped into Judge Williston’s office and asked for a head-of-household status transfer. In the four days since Ellen lost her baby, Marilyn couldn’t stop thinking about the future. If something happened to her, she wanted to know her baby would be loved and protected.

  The entire picnic, Jonas hadn’t played with Geddes and Luanne once. Many of the miners, especially those who’d left families back East, had taken a turn entertaining the children, but no one had played with them more than David Pawlikowski.

  He’d once told her he wasn’t a marrying man. Had he said that to put her at ease, or because he truly meant it?

  There was only one way to find out.

  The CLOSED sign hung in the storefront window. She used her key and slipped inside quietly. “Hello?”

  “Marilyn?” Alarm edged David’s voice.

  “I’d like to have a moment of your time.”

  The sound of footsteps came from the apartment over the store. When he strolled into the shop, there was a mix of tenderness, joy, and worry on his face that made him more handsome than she’d ever noticed.

  He stopped in front of her. “How is Ellen doing?”

  “Better. She ate a whole bowl of soup. The children fell asleep in bed with her.”

  “How are you?”

  Marilyn blinked. “Me? Why would you ask?”

  “Your face is flushed.”

  “I may have walked more briskly than necessary.”

  He smiled, and either the butterflies in her stomach fluttered or her child chose that very moment to do a somersault.

  “You were in a hurry to see me?”

  She gripped her hands behind her back. How was a woman supposed to propose to a man? Getting down on her knee seemed both melodramatic and impractical. “I’m not quite sure how best to ask this, so I’ll just come straight to the point.”

  He dipped his chin. “I find that’s usually the best approach.”

  Her heart began to thump harder inside her chest. She squeezed her hands tighter behind her back. “Did you mean it when you said you weren’t a marrying man?”

  His jaw sagged, parting his lips until they fell open.

  Oh dear. This wasn’t going well at all. She let go of her hands and then didn’t know what else to do with them, eventually deciding to rest them atop her rounded belly. “Recent events have made me think about a number of things, including dying in childbirth. My parents, while good in their own way, are not who I would choose to raise my baby. Ellen and Wendall are wonderful people, but they are my second choice. The courts would never allow a single man to raise a child, so…” She looked at David, hoping he understood what she was finding difficult to say.

  The confusion on his face didn’t bode well. He wouldn’t be finishing her sentence or saying what she was thinking as he’d done so often over their months of working together.

  Marilyn gripped her fingers together and took a deep breath. “David Pawlikowski, will you marry me?”

  * * *

  David inhaled through his nose, holding his breath for a moment before letting it out in a whoosh. He looked at the clock hanging above the door. From the time his mother told him he’d been named after the boy who was anointed king, David had read the Psalms like they were a personal letter to him. It had filled him with a basic understanding that God could take being pestered, questioned, and even shouted at.

  Well, he shouted now.

  Why, God? Why put a woman in my path who tempts me? I came here because it was a mining town with rough men and no women to whom I would ever join my body and soul. It should have been safe. My secret should have been safe.

  To make Marilyn Svenson understand why he couldn’t marry her, he’d have to reveal why Klaudia had been right to call him a miserable excuse for a man.

  David rubbed his jawline, his beard scratchy against his fingertips. There was no purpose in delaying his answer, but reluctance to bare his pain made his tongue stiff. He took a deep breath and stepped closer to Marilyn. “Before I give you my answer, I feel you deserve a full explanation.”

  The last dusky light of day caressed her features. Oh, but she was lovely.

  David’s chest ached with the desire to pull her into his arms and never let go. “I was married once before. For ten years.” He held her gaze for a moment before shaking his head back and forth. “We never had any children, and she blamed me. She withdrew from me”—in every way—“but I assumed she would remain faithful to her vows.”

  Her expression changed again, her eyes drawing together in concentration. “She didn’t, though, did she?”

  “She didn’t.” He pressed his fist into his stinging breastbone. “I came home from work one day to an empty house. She’d left a note saying she’d found someone else and—” He couldn’t finish. Two years later, and the humiliation still paralyzed him.

  “And?”

  He looked at Marilyn’s rounded belly then back into her face.

  “She was with child.” She said it not as a question or a condemnation. It was merely a statement of fact, as though he’d started to explain why the sky was blue and she was finishing his thought.

  It took tremendous effort to bend his neck and lift it again in the briefest nod. “Six days later, she filed for divorce, citing”—he swallowed down the mortification clogging his throat—“my inability to consummate our marriage as cause.”

  Marilyn didn’t seem shocked or outraged, nor did she look at him as though he was less than what a man should be. Instead, she looked at him with the same forthright gaze that made his stomach somersault. “But it wasn’t true.”

  He forced his stiff neck to nod once more. “She ran off with her lover, only to return four months later having lost the child.”

  She looked away, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out before looking him in the eye again. “I’m so very sorry.”

  “She went mad.” He rushed on before his throat tightened too much to get words out. “I cared for her as best I could, but I was unable to help. I was in the process of committing her to an asylum when she died.”

  Marilyn tilted her head in that questioning way of hers. “By her own hand?”

  “Presumably. No autopsy was done. She gave up living, although it didn’t stop people from thinking I’d murdered her.”

  She gasped. “How could anyone who knew you in the slightest think such a thing?”

  The outraged question was a balm to his soul. “It w
as the final blow in a long line, and I couldn’t face the looks on people’s faces anymore.”

  “So you came to Montana, where no one knew you or your story.”

  This time he was able to nod without so much effort.

  “Do you think this will cause me to withdraw my marriage proposal?”

  Oh, how he wished that was the end of the matter, but for a woman who insisted on facts, she was missing the most important one. “My wife made a thousand false claims, but ten barren years of marriage followed by a pregnancy by another man proves one of them true. If you lose this baby, I can’t give you more children.”

  Silence and an expression he couldn’t read. Pondering? Judgment?

  “Thank you for your honesty,” she said softly. “As much as I would like to say your story changes nothing, I think it’s only fair that I take time to consider all the ramifications.”

  He expected nothing less.

  Or more.

  David squared his shoulders to offer a solution that, while good for her, broke his heart. “You should consider Jonas Forsythe. He’s a fine man.”

  Chapter 7

  “Yes, he is.” But Marilyn wanted more from the man she chose as the father of her child.

  “Allow me to walk you home.” His offer interrupted her thoughts.

  “I need some time alone to think. Please,” she added when it looked like he might protest.

  He walked her to the door and opened it for her. “I’ll watch you from here.”

  Before crossing the threshold, she angled her head to look at him. “Thank you for your honesty. Rest assured that your story will remain with me and no one else.”

  “I never doubted it.”

  Marilyn stepped into the street and started toward home. A hint of chill edged the deep breaths she hauled in and out of her lungs. She pulled her red shawl tighter around her shoulders. The sound of drunken miners and feminine laughter came from the saloons and tents down the street. Those not availing themselves of the baser entertainments were secluded in their homes for the night. The streets were empty. Normally, solitude brought her peace, but her soul bubbled with resentment. Or disappointment. Or—

  She wasn’t sure what, except that she wished David had said yes to her proposal.

  Movement along the side of Mr. Oleson’s butcher shop made her squint to see if she could identify the source. It was too big for a raccoon or beaver. Deer often ambled through town looking for food. She edged closer to the building. Was it—?

  Hands reached out and pulled her forward while different hands stuffed fabric inside her mouth. It tasted of dirt and sweat and something so rancid she gagged.

  “Shut up, lady.”

  She hadn’t said anything!

  “You’re coming with us, you hear?” They dragged her toward a wagon.

  Marilyn squirmed against her captors. She needed to get out of here fast! But she didn’t want to hurt the baby by fighting too hard.

  The man at her head leaned down, his breath hot on her cheek. “Stop it, or I swear I’ll shoot you right here, right now.”

  In the time it took for her to decide if he meant it or not, the men pulled her hands behind her back and tied them with coarse rope that scratched her wrists.

  “Get in.”

  Did the man seriously expect her to help him kidnap her?

  “I’m fast losin’ my patience with you, lady.” The soft words held a hard threat.

  Marilyn didn’t move until he pulled a pistol from his waistband and pointed it at her stomach. She sat on the edge of the cart and lifted her knees. The size of her belly made it impossible to pull them up very far.

  With a growl of impatience, he stuffed the pistol back in his belt and grabbed her feet, pushing her backward and sideways with a hard thrust.

  She landed on her side with a thud. Please, Lord, don’t let my baby suffer. Please.

  “Stay outta sight, lady. You got that?” He didn’t bother to wait for her nod.

  The wagon rocked as the men climbed into the front bench. With a “Ya!” and a slap of reins, they started forward.

  * * *

  “David!”

  The sound of Jonas’s voice followed by a rapid pounding sent David racing across his bedroom, down the ladder, and to the front door of his shop.

  Jonas continued shouting and pounding until he saw David through the window.

  David unlocked the door and threw it open. “What’s going on?”

  “I think I just saw a woman in the back of a wagon with a cloth stuffed in her mouth.”

  Mr. Oleson jogged over. “What seems to be the trouble?”

  As Jonas described what he’d seen, David searched the growing crowd for Marilyn. She wouldn’t have made it back to her house or the Palmers’ between now and when he left her. “Where’s Marilyn?”

  Jonas jerked his attention from Oleson to David. “Why are you asking about Mrs. Svenson?”

  “She just left here and I said I’d watch her, but I . . .” couldn’t bear to watch her walk away.

  Jonas waited an instant to let David finish his thought. “But you couldn’t what?”

  David shook his head. “Never mind.”

  Jonas’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t be sure, I only caught a glimpse of them from my window, but it very well could have been Mrs. Svenson in that wagon. They were headed south. We can catch them if we ride out now.”

  Mr. Oleson swung his gaze to Jonas. “I have a long-barreled rifle if you know how to shoot it.”

  Jonas patted his hip. “I do, and I left my pistol up in my room, so thank you.”

  David pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “It will take me three minutes to grab a gun and saddle up. I’ll meet you back here.” He turned to the butcher. “Can you get your rifle and meet us back here?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Great.” David looked at Jonas. “Three minutes.”

  His friend nodded and took off running.

  David ran back inside for his rifle. This was his fault. He should have waited until he saw Marilyn safely reach her home.

  Lord, protect her and her child. Please, Lord. This is my fault, not hers.

  He lifted the rifle from the hooks and grabbed two boxes of bullets, then ran out the back door of his shop to the outbuilding behind it.

  By the time he’d saddled Samson and returned to the street, Mr. Oleson was waiting for him, rifle in hand. “Good luck.” He handed over the long-barreled weapon.

  Thundering hoof beats and a looming dark shape announced Jonas was back and mounted on his black stallion. He reined to a halt and took Mr. Oleson’s rifle from David’s hand. “I saw which way they were going, so let me lead for now.”

  They had to pick their way through men eager to help rather than letting Samson and Goliath gallop to the rescue. Once they reached the alley beside Jonas’s boarding house, there were so many wheel tracks, they soon gave up trying to track a single set and decided to ride straight south.

  Jonas shook his head. “I wish she’d agreed to marry me when I asked.”

  What? David’s brows drew together. “When was this?”

  “At the picnic this afternoon.”

  David held his breath while puzzling over why she’d turn down a proposal from someone like Jonas—a man who was closer to her own age and someone she clearly enjoyed spending time with.

  “She asked you to marry her, didn’t she?” Jonas’s question startled David so much his fingers loosened on the reins.

  He tightened his grip and took a moment to steady his breathing. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because I saw the way she was looking at you when you were playing with those children, and we both know she’s the kind of woman who goes after what she wants by the most direct route.” He gave David a wry look.

  “Why are we having this conversation?” David stared at the ground as though it would give him answers. “We need to concentrate on getting Mrs. Svenson out of this mess.”

  “Y
ou’re normally a very intelligent man,” Jonas continued as though they were conversing over a game of chess, as had become their habit of late, “but when it comes to Marilyn Svenson, you’re an idiot.”

  David’s jaw sagged open, and he turned to look at his friend.

  “You’ve got this idea in your head that God called you to be a bachelor because He called you to Montana Territory.”

  David flinched at the story he’d told to hide the real reason he’d run away from home.

  “What if one has nothing to do with the other? What if God called you here specifically to marry a certain lovely widow?” The lawyer’s logic was based off a faulty premise, but it didn’t make him wrong.

  Could such a miracle be true? Had God used a newspaper article written seventeen months ago about the latest gold discovery in Montana as a catalyst for restoring one poor man’s shattered life? David searched for a counterargument, but his brain wasn’t cooperating.

  “You should marry her,” Jonas pronounced as though he was already a judge.

  The gulch split in two directions. David pulled Samson to a halt and scanned the two tree-lined trails. “Let’s split up. Keep going for half a mile then come back here.”

  “Got it.” Jonas reined Goliath to the right.

  David reined left, his eyes glued to the trail ahead for any sign of wagon wheels. Ten agonizing minutes later, he wheeled Samson around and galloped back to the fork in the road.

  Jonas was waiting. “I saw a light in the distance. This way.”

  They followed a surprisingly well-cleared lane through the thick trees until they saw a small mining shack. They pulled their horses to a stop, dismounted, and tied Sampson and Goliath to some low-hanging branches. With rifles in hand, they crept closer.

  David peered through the darkness and whispered, “I count two men. You see any more?”

  “No.”

  “Two against two should be fair odds, but”—David turned to look at the lawyer wearing a three-piece suit made of fancy material—“I’m a terrible shot.”