Hays nodded.
“Do you know what makes it so strong?”
“No, sir.”
“Storms. When the wind blows against it, the tree is strengthened. If there weren’t storms, the tree would be weak and wouldn’t stand up straight.” He looked back at Hays. “We get strong by enduring the storms of life. If we’re always sheltered, we’d be too weak to stand. Emma is no different. She’s a strong woman, and she doesn’t need you to protect her from the things she can bear on her own.”
“But what if something is too hard for her to withstand?”
“That’s when you need to stand beside her and lend her your strength—not by taking away the storm, but by holding her up through it.”
Hays let out a long sigh.
The sun peeked above the horizon, tinting the land in shades of pink. What Pa said was true, though it wouldn’t be easy to do.
“I think I’ll mosey on into the kitchen and see if Perla has started breakfast.” Pa took another sip of coffee and turned toward the house.
“Pa.” Hays put his hand on his father’s arm to stop him. “I respect your desire for me to marry, but I need you to know that I’ve made up my mind about something.”
Pa studied Hays. “Go ahead.”
“I love Emma and I plan to ask her to marry me.” Hays paused and took a deep breath. “But if she won’t, then I’ll have to forfeit my inheritance.”
“You’re willing to give it all up for her?”
“I won’t marry someone I don’t love just to hold on to a piece of property.” He swallowed, realizing all he’d give up if Emma rejected his proposal.
“You’ve loved that land all your life, yet you’ve only known her for a couple of months. Are ya sure?”
The ache in Hays’s chest wasn’t from fear of losing the land; it was fear of losing Emma. “I’ve never been so sure in my life.”
A smile lifted Pa’s whiskered cheeks. “And you’ve never made me prouder.” He pulled Hays into an embrace. “I love you, son. You have my blessing to do whatever you need to do to be happy.”
Hays squeezed his pa close, his throat tightening with emotion. “I love you, too.”
He’d do what he could to please his pa—even if it meant disappointing him from time to time.
Emma sat on the wrought-iron bench in her parents’ backyard, her head bent in prayer as the midmorning sun climbed higher in the eastern sky. She had a lot to think about on this Sunday morning as her father’s sermon drifted out the open windows of the church. Papa hadn’t asked her if she was coming to the service. He knew she needed time alone.
A sparrow sang in a nearby tree, drawing Emma’s attention to the dry, barren land just behind the hedge. What she wouldn’t give to sit by the Sabinal right now, under the canopy of trees, and let the soothing water carry her troubles away.
The thought made her pause. Until now, every time she had craved the peace of a river, she had yearned for the Mississippi—this was the first time she had yearned for the Sabinal.
It was the one place in Hartville where she felt truly at home—but whether it was because of the river or because of Hays’s company and the tender kiss they had shared, she couldn’t be sure.
Thoughts of Hays made her sigh and turn again to prayer. She had come to respect Hays more than anyone she’d ever met, which made his decision last night all the harder to bear. The money wasn’t the real issue. It was the feeling of dishonesty behind his act and the sense that she didn’t know whether she could trust him, especially where her heart was concerned. Was he being dishonest about other things? Like his desire to marry her for love, and not to claim his land?
The final hymn came to an end, but it would be some time before her family came back to the house.
Emma closed her eyes and imagined she was sitting on the banks of the Sabinal under those glorious trees.
“Miss Longley?”
She opened her eyes and sat up straight at the sight of GW Hart standing in her parents’ yard.
“Mr. Hart.” She began to rise, but he lifted his hand to stop her.
“Please don’t get up on my account.” He crossed the yard and indicated the spot next to her on the bench. “May I?”
Emma nodded and then looked about to see whether Hays was anywhere near.
“Hays stayed out at El Regalo,” Mr. Hart said, sighing as he took his seat. “I told him to take a nap since he didn’t sleep last night.”
Emma didn’t know what to say, so she simply watched Mr. Hart and waited for him to tell her why he had come.
GW looked around the backyard, apparently in no hurry. “I’ve always liked this little house.”
She had to admit it was a beautiful home, perfect for her parents. The whole family had enjoyed the pleasant cottage. “It’s been very comfortable for our family.”
“Did you know my father built this house?”
Emma’s gaze drifted from the house to the man beside her. “I didn’t.”
GW nodded. “After he built his own home and sectioned off a corner of his property for this town, he built the church and this house and invited Pastor Darby to come be the minister.”
“My father is only the second pastor in Hartville?”
“He is. Pastor Darby was a young man when he came, and for the first little while my family was the only congregation.”
“I’ve heard good things about Pastor Darby. Many people miss him.”
“He was a good man—none better. He impacted this community more than anyone else.” GW shook his head. “He almost left Hartville that first year. He wanted to go back to Boston. I don’t think he liked Texas much.” He looked toward the church and Main Street. “I don’t know what this town would be like if he hadn’t stayed on.”
A smile tilted Emma’s lips, suspecting the reason for his visit. “Why did he choose to stay?”
“He fell in love.”
“I thought your family members were the only people in town.”
“They were. Pastor Darby married my sister Martha, did you know that?”
Emma shook her head.
“She was the first teacher in Hartville, and she taught in that little church, just like you.” He chuckled. “’Course her only students were her brothers the first couple of months, but the four of us rode into Hartville every morning for our lessons, and we went home every evening when they were done. At home, we could call her Martha, but in school we had to call her Miss Hart.”
Emma made David do the same thing.
“When Pastor Darby married Martha, she moved into this little house, and I used to come here and visit her. She made the best chocolate cake, and she always added extra icing just for me.”
“I can tell you loved her.” Emma paused. “But I thought Pastor Darby was a single man without children.”
GW gazed at the little cottage with a sad smile. “Martha died on their first anniversary when she was trying to birth her baby boy. Darby never married again, but he stayed on here.” GW ran his hands down his mustache. “I guess he finally saw it through Martha’s eyes. He never regretted the year he had with her, even though he spent the rest of his life alone.”
Tears sprang to Emma’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
GW patted Emma’s knee. “I didn’t mean to tell you this story to make you sad, my dear.”
She wiped at a tear as it slipped down her cheek. “It’s a beautiful story.”
“It taught me something important.” He studied her closely. “Loving somebody is a risk, but true love is always worth it, no matter how long it lasts.”
Emma clasped her hands on her lap, unable to meet his penetrating gaze. The sparrow continued to sing, and the breeze blew across her face as she thought about his words.
“I suspect you’re thinkin’ on leaving Hartville,” GW said, “but I’m asking you to stay and give our town a second chance. Who knows, you might fall in love with it like Darby did.”
Emma glanced at the church and the
town beyond, believing for the first time that it could be possible.
GW stood with a grunt. “I should probably get home. Perla is making enchiladas for lunch. Have you ever had enchiladas?”
Emma also stood. “No, I haven’t.”
“There’s always a place at our table for you.” He winked. “I’d even have a special chair monogramed with your initials, if you’d like.” He patted her cheek. “Good-bye, Emma.”
Emma blinked several times before she realized what he meant. “G-good-bye, Mr. Hart.”
He walked across the yard, but just before he disappeared he looked back to her. “For what it’s worth, whatever mistake you think Hays made last night, he did it because he loves you, of that I’m certain. I can’t fault him for that.” He dipped his hat. “Good-bye.”
Love? Emma stood in the middle of the backyard for several minutes watching GW’s retreating form. Had Hays told his father he loved her?
Warmth cascaded through her, and she hugged her arms about her waist. If it was true, then he hadn’t been pursuing her for his land. Maybe his actions the night before weren’t out of disloyalty, maybe they were the only thing he could think to do because he loved her and wanted her to succeed. She had been so overcome with emotion and pain from the past, she hadn’t listened to him.
She owed him an apology.
The wind fluttered the kitchen curtain, and Emma could almost see Martha standing there icing a chocolate cake for GW. The little cottage had taken on a new charm for Emma, and instead of sadness, she only felt joy thinking about the couple who had made it a home for twelve short months.
Maybe GW was right. True love was worth the risk … always.
Chapter Nine
Pa had suggested that Hays stay home from church and take a nap, but instead, he had come to his property along the Sabinal. He hoped to keep his mind off Emma, but she was the only thing he could think about.
Hays lay on the banks of the river, his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes. His mind wandered to the day he’d kissed her, and instead of pushing the thought away, he allowed himself to bask in the peace and happiness the memory gave him.
Bella grazed nearby, nibbling on the dry grass while the river gurgled over rocks and roots. The sun shimmered through the canopy of leaves, offering short bursts of light on his face.
There really was no place on earth like this little spot of land. He hated to think that it might not be his.
Bella lifted her head, her ears twisting forward as she looked up at the rise of land.
Hays swiveled his head to see what had caught her attention—and his heart leapt.
“Emma.” He scrambled to his feet as she nudged her horse down the path he’d worn in the soil and followed it to where Bella stood.
She stopped her horse, her gaze fixed on Hays.
Neither one spoke for several moments. Finally, he reached up, placed his hands on her waist, and then lowered her to the ground.
She came willingly. When he set her on her feet, she placed her hands on his chest, her green eyes searching his.
He smiled, and all the love he felt for her was harnessed in the simple expression. “What are you looking for, Em?”
Whatever it was, she must have found it, because she stopped searching and offered him a smile that matched his in intensity. “I’m looking for love.”
His heart pounded hard and he took her hand, putting it on his chest. “You’ve found it.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I’ve been so blind, Hays. Is it too late?”
Joy burst inside his chest, and he shook his head. “Never.”
“I owe you an apology—”
“No. I owe you one.”
She shook her head and he laughed.
They looked at one another for a moment, and then finally she spoke. “May I offer you a gift for all your troubles, then?”
He pulled her closer. “What kind of gift did you have in mind?”
Emma stood on tiptoe, and like the last time they were by this river, she gave him a kiss—but this time she placed that kiss on his lips.
It was sweet bliss to hold her in his arms again, and this time she stayed willingly, and didn’t pull away.
He finally broke the kiss only to say, “That’s the sweetest gift anyone has ever given me.”
“Oh!” She giggled, a bit breathless. “That wasn’t the gift. I got distracted and couldn’t help myself for a moment.”
Hays tilted his head back and laughed again. “You can get distracted anytime you’d like.” When his laughter subsided, he grew more serious. “If that wasn’t your gift, what is?”
It was her turn to take his hand in hers. She brought it to her lips, kissed his knuckles, and then laid his hand against her cheek. “My gift to you is my heart, in exchange for yours.”
“Em.” He pulled her close again, reveling in the way she fit perfectly against him. “It’s all yours.”
This time he kissed her.
March 7, 1874
It was hard to believe a month had passed since Emma had stood on the banks of the Sabinal River and accepted Hays’s marriage proposal. Today she waited in the bedroom she had shared with Hope these past three months, as her mama fussed over her gown and veil. The ensemble, as Miss Spanner called it, was more than Emma had ever imagined a humble pastor’s daughter would wear on her wedding day, but GW had insisted on the very best for his first daughter-in-law, and Miss Spanner had agreed. It was a gift she couldn’t refuse.
A knock at the door made both women pause.
“Who is it?” Mama asked, dropping the veil over Emma’s warm face.
“It’s the father of the bride,” Papa said from the hallway.
Mama and Emma exchanged a tender glance, and then Mama went to the door and opened it wide.
The look on Papa’s face brought tears to Emma’s eyes.
“The last time I saw such a beautiful bride was the day I married your mama.” He entered the room and held out his hands. “You’re lovely, Em.”
She offered a nervous laugh mixed with tears as she took his hands. “Thank you, Papa.”
“I’m happy I was able to get a minister to fill in for me today,” he said, wiping at his cheek. “I don’t think I could perform your marriage ceremony without choking up.”
“We’ll be late if we don’t hurry.” Mama grabbed Emma’s bouquet of bluebonnets off the bureau and handed them to her.
Emma grasped the beautiful flowers, delivered earlier by her groom-to-be, who had picked them just that morning. He told Mama to tell her that they were from the little rise above the river, where their new house was under construction.
Emma lifted them to her nose, inhaling their fragrant scent, awaiting the day she could gaze upon them from her kitchen window.
Papa offered his elbow, and Emma lifted the train of her gown with her free hand.
They left the little cottage and walked through the yard to the church. Emma glanced across the road where the new schoolhouse was just completed. Two days after the street dance, the money had mysteriously reappeared in the church safe, and the construction had immediately begun on the building. They might never know who took it, though they both suspected Evelyn. She had access through her father on the elder board—but none of it mattered any longer. Come Monday, Hope would take over the new classroom, which pleased Emma very much.
But the schoolhouse couldn’t hold Emma’s attention today—not when Hays was waiting inside the church to marry her.
Papa stopped at the top of the steps and looked over at Emma. “Are you ready?”
Emma nodded, and Mama opened the door for them to enter.
Hope sat behind the piano at the front of the church, and the moment the door opened she began the wedding march.
Everyone in the church stood and turned to look at Emma.
Sunshine streamed through the windows and washed the inside of the building in a golden glow.
David met Mama and offered his arm
like a gentleman. He walked her to the front of the church and showed her to the pew on the left.
Papa squeezed Emma’s hand and they began to walk down the aisle.
Dozens of familiar faces greeted Emma. Friends, neighbors, and students.
Connie straightened Emma’s train and veil and then followed behind to act as Emma’s maid of honor.
As they drew closer to the front, Emma had her first glimpse of Hays—and the smile on his face was unlike anything she’d ever seen. It radiated, making his blue eyes shine brighter than ever. Beside Hays was Gage, who would act as the best man.
GW Hart stood in the front pew at her right, with Austin, Bowie, Travis, and Crockett beside him. The only two missing were Chisholm and Houston, who could not be reached in time to come home for the wedding. Both brothers would be dearly missed, but Emma looked forward to the day when she would finally meet them. For now, the rest were there to welcome her into the family.
The visiting minister was a young man who rocked nervously from foot to foot. When Emma and Papa finally reached the front, he said, “Who gives this woman away in marriage?”
“I do.” Papa lifted her veil and placed a kiss on her cheek before he rested her hand inside Hays’s.
Hays laced his fingers through hers, his eyes filled with the promises his lips would soon confess.
He pulled her close, and they faced the minister to pledge their hearts, one to the other.
Gabrielle Meyer lives in central Minnesota, on the banks of the Mississippi River, with her husband and four young children. As an employee of the Minnesota Historical Society, she fell in love with the rich history of her state and enjoys writing fictional stories inspired by real people and events. Gabrielle can be found at www.gabriellemeyer.com, where she writes about her passion for history, Minnesota, and her faith.
The Heart of Texas
by Lorna Seilstad
Chapter One
March 1874
Brady City, Texas
Seven Brides for Seven Texans Romance Collection Page 9