She looked over her shoulder to the house, where his parents were disappearing through the front door. It was Melissa’s second Sunday in Shallow Springs, the end of her second visit to church. The week had been a busy one, and they’d hardly had a minute to speak alone.
“I already talked to Ma about it,” Matt explained. “She has a picnic basket all packed for us.”
“Oh.” Melissa’s eyelashes fluttered in surprise. “I suppose I cannot say no then.”
“You can”—he grinned—“but I’m hoping you won’t.”
She glanced back at the house yet again. “Shall I fetch the basket, then?”
“And I’ll get the horses,” he confirmed.
Matt watched her as she walked inside, her blue skirt swishing. She’d done her hair up that day in the way he liked, the braids pinned around her head, and the Sunday hat Ma had bought her as a welcome present perched on top of them. She was lovely, he knew, and he was one of the luckiest men in all of Wyoming.
“You can ride?” he asked when they met outside of the stable. He held Dora and Trigger’s reins in his hands, and Melissa eyed Trigger, the larger of the two.
“Yes.”
“You can have Dora. She’s a sweet girl.”
Taking the picnic basket from Melissa, he helped her onto the horse, where she settled in cowboy style.
“There’s a nice spot at the river not more than a couple miles away. You’ll like it.”
She nodded in her quiet way, and they set off. The heat was just as bad as it had been all season, but in a way, it didn’t matter anymore. Matt was almost used to the constant discomfort. Plus, with his arms and face covered, at least he wouldn’t burn.
The spot was one he’d visited many times: a little bend in the river where large, smooth rocks gathered under the shade of some trees. It was cooler down by the water, and as they led the horses to drink, a light breeze floated in, making Matt close his eyes and exhale in relief.
“Now that’s nice,” he commented.
Melissa fanned herself with her hat, which she’d promptly taken off after sliding out of the saddle. “When will this heat end?”
“It’s hard to say. August? September? I don’t remember it ever being quite so hot.”
Melissa frowned. “I look forward to the snow.”
“If snow is what you want, you came to the right place,” he chuckled.
They stood silently for a minute, watching the water trickle past.
“The river’s usually much higher than this,” Matt commented. “We need some rain soon. The alfalfa needs it.”
“You cannot pull water from the well?”
“We’ve been doing that some, but who can get to twenty acres of crops?”
“Oh. Yes. I suppose you’ve noticed I know very little about farming.”
“That’s all right.” Matt gazed evenly at her, but Melissa turned away.
“Shall I set out the picnic?”
“Sure.” The word came up thick. They’d been sharing a moment there—or at least Matt thought they had—and then she’d ended it. She always did that.
She needs time, Matt reminded himself. She doesn’t know me. I’m still some stranger to her.
Keeping up a quick pace, Melissa spread the old sheet Ma had sent onto the grass and unpacked the picnic lunch. Hard-boiled eggs sprinkled with salt and pepper. Pickled beets. Thick slices of bread baked the morning before. Lemonade, still cool in the tin flask. It was the perfect meal for a hot summer day.
Matt tied the horses up in the shade of a tree, then settled onto the edge of the sheet, stretching his legs out in front of him. “How did you like church today?”
Melissa’s gaze drifted to the river. “It was very lovely, the heat notwithstanding.”
“I saw you talking to some of the ladies the week before.”
He’d also noticed that, that morning, she had made a beeline for the wagon the instant church let out. She hadn’t given anyone a chance to so much as say hello.
Melissa looked guilty.
“I understand, though,” Matt said, feeling bad for putting her on the spot. “I don’t talk to many folks, myself.”
She cocked her head. “But you’re quite friendly.”
“When I’ve gotta be…” He shrugged. “But going into town, chatting everyone up… It ain’t for me.”
She nodded. “It appears we have that in common.”
“I saw you talking to Kitty Ross and Gemma Reed last week.”
“Oh, yes. They are very nice.” Melissa got busy nibbling on an egg.
“Kitty’s sister is engaged to my good friend, Nat Keenan.”
She stopped eating and looked at him with new interest. “Does everyone know each other here?”
Matt scratched his jaw and thought about that. “Yeah, I think so. It’s hard to live in a place like Shallow Springs and not become friendly with everyone.” He laughed. “I suppose that’s why I don’t go into town much. Every person I pass wants to have a conversation that’ll last the afternoon.”
“It’s the opposite of New York City. There, people don’t look at you twice on the street. And neighbors are those who you fight with for the washroom.”
“Do you miss it?”
“No,” she answered swiftly. “Not at all.”
Quick though the answer was, he didn’t miss the sadness there.
“Melissa, I know we’ve never talked about this, but… I’m sorry about your brother.”
Pain flashed across her face. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“What was he like?”
She shook her head, shoulders slumping. “We don’t have to talk about him.”
“I want you to know that you can if you want to, that… I’m here for you. For whatever you might need.”
She watched him, and Matt hardly dared breathe. What was going on behind those guarded eyes?
“Why did you take a chance on a mail-order bride?”
The question took him by surprise. “Oh. Because, well, there aren’t many eligible young ladies here. Shucks, right now I don’t think there are any. Helen Byrum was the last one I know about, and Nat swooped in and won her over about right away.”
“I have seen a number of young women around.”
He nodded. “And at least four or five of them came here through mail-order bride agencies. The other ones are already married. I spent so many years focusing on the farm that by the time I got some breathing space, well… there weren’t any single women left. I thought about not marrying at all. You know, I have my ma and pa, but they’re getting on in their years, and Ma, she wants to see me married. Bad. You’re a blessing to her. She’s always been worried that I’ll end up all alone.”
“Did you ever”—she cleared her throat lightly—“court any of these ladies in town?”
Matt worked to keep a smile off his face. After the big speech he’d just given, she was focused on the part about the other women in Shallow Springs. Was she jealous?
“Not in any serious way,” he answered truthfully.
“Ah.” She nodded, going back to eating her egg.
For a while, they sat in silence, enjoying their meal and the river’s music until her next statement broke the quiet.
“I believe you did not answer my question.”
“Why did I take a chance on you?”
“Yes.”
Matt looked at his boots, taking his time composing an answer. He wanted it to be an honest one. “When I saw your ad in the brochure, I had a good feeling about you.” He shrugged. “I can’t describe it any better than that. It seemed… right.”
The confession made him feel like he’d given her a private viewing of his heart. He hoped she wouldn’t take such an act lightly and jest over it.
“Why did you take a chance on me?” he asked.
Her jaw tightened. “I knew that anything away from New York was better than what lay in that city.”
Pain swept over Matt, and before he knew what he w
as doing, he’d scooted across the sheet, landing in a sitting position right next to Melissa. She sucked in breath, but she did not move. Instead, her eyes swept over his face, her pupils shrinking and growing with extreme speed.
“I promise you, your life here will be better than anything that’s come before it,” Matt whispered.
“How can you promise me that?” she whispered back. They were only inches away, but her voice was barely audible.
“Because it’s my job,” he fiercely said. “When we stand up in front of the altar and say those vows, I’ll be making a pact in front of God. But, really, I don’t need to wait until our wedding day to do that. I can tell you here and now that I’m committed to your happiness.” He swallowed, aware that their faces were not more than a breath away. If he were to kiss her, all he’d need to do was lean forward a few inches.
Melissa smiled ruefully. “You are a good man, Matthew Denton. Perhaps the best man I have ever met.”
“Melissa...” His gaze drifted down to where her hands rested in her lap. He was brimming full of a desire to pull her into his arms. Quite suddenly, the woman in front of him had become his everything. Was this what they called love? If so, was it possible to feel it for a person you had not known for even two weeks?
All Matt knew was that Melissa inspired him. She made him want to try harder, to be more. No other woman had ever done that.
“Should we not be getting back?”
Her question made him reel back in surprise. “Should we?” he repeated dumbly.
“We have been gone for a while now.” She looked down, avoiding his gaze, clearly uncomfortable.
Matt cleared his throat and scooted back some. “I apologize if I’ve been too forward.”
“No, not at all.” There was a chirpy quality to her voice, but it was masking something else.
Standing, she brushed her palms against her skirt and began packing up the lunch Matt hadn’t had more than a few bites of. Not that it mattered. He no longer had any appetite.
He’d crossed a line without meaning to. He’d made her uncomfortable again. He wanted to punch himself for such stupidity.
“Melissa, I’m sorry. I was too—”
“No,” she briskly cut in. “You did nothing wrong. I’m merely worried about our chores. Should we not return to the farm?”
She smiled brightly—too brightly.
“Let’s go back,” he agreed, standing and folding up the sheet.
Melissa had been through a lot. She’d been orphaned at a young age. Her brother had died only a year ago. And now, she was in a foreign place. She needed time. She needed understanding.
It was hard to know how to navigate life with her, but Matt would figure it out. He was committed to her. He loved her already. There was no going back.
6
6. Allie
Chapter Six
Dearest Juana,
Writing this letter fills me with both pain and joy. I wish to confess everything to you, to share every small detail of my journey, but I know I cannot.
At least it brings me some comfort to be able to tell you this: I am safe.
I have found myself a good place, a place where I can stay for a long time. I think of you nearly every minute, and I pray that my situation has not brought any difficulties your way. I could not live with myself were I to know that you were going through a trying time simply through your association with me. I know you are completely innocent, though, and I pray to God every day to keep you safe.
Thank you so very much for your friendship. May the Lord keep you in His loving embrace forever more.
She did not sign the letter, and she did not write a return address. She walked it to the small post office late Monday afternoon and watched the clerk carefully as he tucked it into a bag, making sure that he did not stamp a return town on it.
Satisfied that the letter was on its way to New York without any trace of its origins, Allie walked back to the Denton farm. She went about her chores and helped with supper, the friend she had left behind on her mind the whole time.
The evening meal was difficult to sit through, and Allie knew it was because of her. She’d had a lovely time with Matt the day before, and that weighed heavily upon her.
She was coming to care for him a great deal. It was an ideal situation for two people who planned to wed, but nothing about Allie’s life was standard. She was deceiving a good man. If that weren’t enough, now she found the two of them drawing closer.
The burgeoning intimacy made her guilt all the worse. It was the reason she had cut their picnic short the day before.
If Matt were to show some anger over her withdrawal, perhaps it would have made her feel better. As it were, he remained patient and understanding. All throughout supper, he continuously glanced her way. When they said good night on the front porch before he retreated to his house, she almost broke down. She wanted to sob and fall into his arms, to tell him everything and confess that she cared for him desperately.
Of course, she did none of that. She washed the supper dishes, and she went to bed.
And now, hours past sunset, she lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
Sleep had evaded her often in the past month, and tonight was no exception. Allie felt contained by the walls and longed to move about.
Perhaps, if she went outside for a bit, she would find some comfort. The fresh air might soothe her soul and help her fall asleep.
Slipping out of bed, she tiptoed down the short hallway.
Lost in her thoughts, it wasn’t until she was in the main room that she noticed the dimly lit oil lamp.
“Oh,” she gasped, halting in her tracks.
Nicolette looked up from her knitting. “Can’t sleep?”
“No.”
She smiled. “I have trouble with that occasionally as well. Come have a seat.” She nodded at the cushioned chair next to the rocking chair she sat in.
Declining the offer and continuing outside would be too rude, so Allie lowered herself into the offered seat.
“Any troubles on your mind?” Nicolette’s needles clicked in the otherwise quiet room.
Allie gulped and looked at the dark window. Her reflection gazed back. “What makes you ask?”
“I can see you’re still having a hard time easing into life in Wyoming.”
“Not because I do not love it here,” Allie earnestly answered.
Nicolette nodded. “Shallow Springs is wonderful but very different from New York.”
“It’s better,” Allie whispered.
Nicolette tilted her head, needles still flashing. She looked like she would comment any instant, but the moments stretched on in silence.
“Your son is a wonderful man.” Allie’s voice cracked, and she pressed her lips together hard, afraid that if she said anything more, the words would not come without tears.
“He is,” Nicolette murmured. “And he thinks very much of you as well.”
“He barely knows me.” Even as she said the words, Allie knew that did not matter. A person did not need to spend years with another to see that their heart was good.
“Is that what you came here for? For a husband to know you? Or were you looking to survive?” Before Allie could even think of answering, Nicolette went on. “It is fine if it’s the latter. That is what it should be. All mail-order brides come for practical reasons, and they’re all requested for practical reasons.”
Allie stared at the growing scarf in the older woman’s lap. She did not know what to say.
“Most marriages are pragmatic. Anyone who finds love is lucky.”
“Were you one of the lucky ones?” It was a bold question, but Allie did not want to take it back. She held her breath, hoping Nicolette would answer her.
“Our love grew over the years. It was not the kind that you stumble upon immediately. Still, it is love, and it is strong.”
Allie nodded. She believed she understood. She’d never known her parents—they’d both died before sh
e reached the age of one. Her aunt, Lena, who raised her until the age of twelve, had never married. Once Lena died, Allie was on her own. She’d never had time for suitors. Not that any men had been looking to marry a poor, working girl such as herself.
“I want to be happy here.” Allie chose her words carefully. She needed to release some of the pressure on her heart, but she also needed to be careful. “So far, I see many reasons to be just that.”
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