Marrying the Preacher's Daughter

by Cheryl St. John

  “She loves you very much, Gabe. You’re her only family in the world. Maybe she just wants to feel important in your eyes and have value. I’ve always had Father and my sisters, so I can’t imagine what it would be like to spend Christmas and holidays without them and the knowledge that I belong. She needs to belong. You can give her that. You just have to be open.”

  He nodded, but didn’t speak.

  “I understand that you only want the best for her. You want to see her happy and fulfilled, and in your eyes marriage would be that fulfillment for her. Isn’t that so?”

  He nodded again.

  “Just say it to her like that. Tell her you only want her to be happy. And that you’ll support her in any manner that will bring her joy.”

  He lowered his hands and straightened. Elisabeth’s hand, still on his shoulder, trailed down his back in a manner meant to be comforting.

  Instead, he reached to take her by her upper arm and guide her closer to him. Her breath caught in her throat.

  She’d never seen him in this light—and she liked the evocative glimpse into his heart. There was something endearing about the man who clearly loved his sister, yet fumbled with how to communicate with her. He’d believed he’d done the best he could for Irene by placing her in a girls’ academy, but what effect had the separation had on him? “Do you still believe you did the right thing for her by placing her in that school?”

  “Sometimes I feel like I abandoned her, but it was because I wanted the best for her.”

  “Maybe she felt as though you abandoned her, too. Just ask.”

  “You make it sound easy.”

  “Nothing worthwhile is easy.”

  “Some things are,” he replied.

  Her gaze dropped to his mouth. Even though she knew the answer, she couldn’t resist asking, “Like what?”

  “Like kissing you.” He leaned forward and covered her lips with his.

  Elisabeth experienced a kind of giddy happiness she now associated with this—and with this man and the untried feelings his nearness and attention created. Gabe cupped her jaw, laced his fingers into her hair behind her ear and stroked his thumb over her cheekbone with aching gentleness.

  The touch was so unlike anything she’d ever known or imagined, her breath caught in her throat. A realization flitted around her, daring her to take notice. There was something developing between them, something more than their initial butting of heads and his bold teasing. Her feelings about him had grown confusing, and she didn’t like being uncertain about anything.

  She had unconsciously moved her hand to his shoulder, and only now realized she was clinging to him a little too intensely. Embarrassed by her behavior, she drew back and sat away.

  He studied her, but she let her gaze drop.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “For what?”

  “For talking straight and pointing out what I’m too dense to figure out.”

  “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Again she turned his words back to him, and this time he grinned.

  The fact that he’d been open to her suggestions touched her. Listening to advice seemed contrary to everything she’d learned about him until now, and the book of Proverbs came to mind. She remembered several verses about a man who sought counsel being wise. “You’re not dense.”

  “Say it with more conviction.”

  She grinned. “You are not dense.”

  “I’ll go talk to her. Which room?”

  What he knew about talking to females he could’ve written on the palm of his hand. It didn’t amount to much. He could stare a cold-blooded killer in the eye and not flinch. He was comfortable lying in wait for hours—sometimes days, without food and very little water—but he’d rather face off with a mama grizzly than see disillusionment or pain on his young sister’s face. He was completely out of his element.

  Elisabeth had made it all sound so simple. And maybe it was. But it sure wasn’t comfortable.

  He tapped on the door Elisabeth had pointed out.

  “Who is it?” came the soft reply.

  He would have opened the door to avoid the disruption in the hall since Mrs. Hart needed her rest, but his sister wasn’t a child any longer. He couldn’t just go barging in. “It’s me,” he said, holding his voice down.

  A moment later, the door opened. He was thankful she didn’t intend to ignore him. She had changed into her nightdress and a pale blue wrapper. Her feet were bare on the patterned rug. He followed her into the room and glanced around.

  He recognized the straw hat perched on a metal sculptured stand atop a wardrobe. The unique scent of fresh linen and meadow grass unmistakably defined the room as Elisabeth’s. Until that moment he hadn’t realized how profoundly the woman disturbed him, but here he was recognizing her scent, identifying her belongings and experiencing an uneasy pull on his senses.

  He focused on his sister. “We didn’t get off to a very good start.”

  She sat on a chair and pointed to another beside a table in a slant-ceilinged dormer before several windows. “It wasn’t the best news I’ve had, hearing you can’t wait to get me out from underfoot when I’ve only just arrived.”

  How had he botched things so badly? “You’re not underfoot and you never could be. I want you with me. The whole reason I came here and the reason I want to build a house is for you. For us. So we can be a family.”

  The tears that formed in her eyes made his chest ache. “Then why all this talk of being amenable to please and catch a husband?”

  “I just thought—you’re of an age when young ladies look for husbands, so I figured…” He stopped and shook his head. “I just want you to be happy. No matter what that means.”

  “I’m going to have plenty of time for all that to hap pen,” she said. “And I don’t want a husband who doesn’t love me for who I am. I’m vocal about women’s rights.”

  “I know that now.”

  “I wouldn’t marry a man who opposed my convictions. If I marry, the man will have the same values and beliefs I do.”

  He didn’t hold out for a man like that to turn up in Jackson Springs. He didn’t need to voice his doubts, however. He was prepared to share a home with her forever. “Irene,” he said.

  She studied him.

  “I never would have placed you in that school if I hadn’t thought it was the best—and safest—place for you. I couldn’t have paid for your education and the things you needed if I hadn’t been able to travel.”

  “I believe you.” She picked at a thread on the sleeve of her wrapper. “But I often wished you’d taken me with you. I’d have lived anywhere just to have been together.”

  The path he’d chosen had made that impossible. He’d spent over ten years chasing outlaws and staying alive by his wits and his skill with a gun. What he’d earned had been more than enough to fund boarding school; he’d lain by savings that would give them both a chance to start over. “What I did all those years was for us,” he said. “For a future.”

  “Whenever you visited and I asked to come with you, you always said it wasn’t possible. But you never told me what you did,” she said. “And I guess I don’t want to know if it was illegal.”

  She didn’t know him. If he’d been in her place he’d have had plenty of doubts and suspicions…as well as questions. He didn’t take her trust lightly. “It wasn’t.”

  She folded her hands. “Good.”

  “Do you remember our parents?”

  “Barely,” she said. “I remember a big rocking chair by the fire, and Mother rocking me when I was small. I can picture our father in his white shirt and tie, and I recall him buying me licorice from a row of jars in a mercantile. What did he do?”

  “He worked at the courthouse,” Gabe replied.

  “And they were killed by a horse and wagon?”

  He nodded. “I was in school when the sheriff came for me. He took me to the undertaker’s. That’s where I last saw them. Mother had left you with a friend while t
he two of ’em went to lunch. Our house was in town and I suppose they did that on occasion. A team got startled in front of the livery and ran wild down the street. Smashed the wagon right up on the boardwalk and into the front of the building where they were sitting near the window.”

  “I vaguely remember staying with one family after another after that,” she said.

  He nodded. “Until I quit school and took a job at the livery so we could be together. Had a little room over the seamstress’s shop.”

  “That must’ve been hard for you.”

  “Harder for you, probably. You were alone a lot. I couldn’t take care of you by myself, feed you proper.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “That you had to quit school to take care of me.”

  “I was old enough,” he told her. “No hardship. I just wanted you to have more than I could give you. So I saved enough to board you with a family, joined a drive and sent back everything I earned that first time. A couple years later I had enough to send you to the academy.”

  “Thank you, Gabriel.”

  “You don’t owe me any thanks.”

  “I do. You took care of me.”

  “You’re not obligated. It was my duty.”

  “You were just a boy yourself.”

  He shrugged. “We’re here now.”

  “Can we start over?” she asked. “Fresh?”

  Relieved, he nodded. “I’d like that.”

  She got up and knelt at his feet, where she laid her head on his knee. The warmth of her tears wet the fabric covering his leg. Hesitantly, he touched her hair and bent to place a kiss against her head. She looked up at him then, and her lashes glistened. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

  It took a minute for him to speak around the lump in his throat. “It’s what I always wanted. I was just waiting for the time to be right.”

  She smiled.

  “The house will be serviceable and you’ll be comfortable,” he told her. “But don’t expect it to be like this one.” He glanced around the room.

  “This place is something else, isn’t it? And the Harts are such generous people. Elisabeth is sleeping with her sister tonight so I can have this room.”

  “They’re good people,” he replied.

  “So she nursed you for the past week?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Somewhat begrudgingly, to be sure.”

  “I can hardly believe that.”

  “We didn’t get off to a good start.”

  “And now?”

  He thought over their relationship. “She’s tolerating me.”

  “I think she more than tolerates you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When she thinks no one is looking—when you’re not looking—she casts telling glances your way. And you…” Wearing a teasing smile, she gathered her robe around her legs and pushed to her feet. “The looks you give her say more than ‘please pass the mashed potatoes.’”

  He had no reply. He didn’t know what he thought about Elisabeth, and he didn’t want to examine his feelings. The notion that anyone else had glimpsed his confusing attraction to her didn’t sit well. He stood. “I’d better go so you can get some rest.”

  “Good night, Gabriel.” She stepped against him and laid her head against his chest. “Everything’s going to be grand now that we’re together.”

  He returned her hug. One of his concerns had been set to rest. Irene didn’t intend to pressure him to tell her how or where he’d made his living up until now. And if she did learn somehow, he was relatively certain she wouldn’t be appalled or fault-finding. Still, he didn’t want to risk losing her esteem.

  Three gas lamps lit the long hallway, and in their glow, he spotted Elisabeth perched on a bench beneath a window. Behind her the night sky was dark and the moon filtered through the swaying branches of a tree. She’d freed her hair from its braid and the shiny mass hung down her back in ripples.

  He strode toward her and she got to her feet.

  “I don’t mean to be intrusive, but I can’t help wondering how it went,” she whispered.

  “Don’t want to wake your family,” he replied.

  She glanced aside and then gestured. “Up here.”

  He followed her to what appeared as another room, but instead the door led up a narrow set of stairs to another door, which she opened and entered through. She lit a lamp, illuminating a tiny square room furnished with undersize chairs, enormous pillows and bookcases filled with books and dolls.

  She closed the door. “This has always been a hide-away for we three sisters,” she said. “The boys aren’t allowed. I still come here when the household is chaotic and I want to be alone.” She took a seat on one of the chairs and gestured for him to join her. “The few times my father’s been in here, he used the cushions.”

  He had his doubts about the spindly little chairs holding his weight, so Gabe seated himself and hoped he could get back up without embarrassing himself. “I said the same things to Irene that I said to you.”

  “And she forgave you and you made up.”

  “More or less.” He looked toward a window. “Thanks to you and your insight.”

  “It wasn’t all that difficult to recognize her feelings. Or yours.”

  He faced her. “What am I feeling now?”

  Chapter Eleven

  She shrugged and a long skein of hair fell forward over her shoulder. “Relief? Regret maybe.”

  “Thank you for giving up your room so Irene could sleep in there.”

  “I don’t mind sleeping with Anna. She thinks it’s great fun when we have a lot of company and share rooms.” She sat with her hands in the pockets of her robe and a clicking sound came from the one on the right.

  Curious, Gabe glanced at her lap.

  She withdrew her hand to show him what she held: three small smooth stones. He frowned in puzzlement.

  “I have a collection of stones,” she explained. “I gathered them along riverbanks and on the prairies as we traveled west with our wagon train. At first I just liked them and thought it would be fun to save mementos from along the trail.” She held her hand open and studied the three rocks. “They’ve become reminders of the sacrifice we made to come here…of losing my mother. They remind me that the decisions we make have everlasting repercussions.”

  He understood that. He’d chosen to hunt down wanted men. He was good at it, and the bounties had been more than he could have made any other way. At the time it had seemed like the best choice…but now he had to live with the lives that had been changed—and lost—along the way. Now he had to keep his past a secret from civilized people like these.

  “You get those out and look at them often?”

  “I have a few with me all the time,” she replied with a sheepish glance through her lashes. “These have been in the pocket of my wrapper.”

  “Imagine they’re a good reminder to think before you do somethin’ you’ll regret.” Though he doubted she needed the rocks. She seemed pretty set on doing what was right as a way of life.

  She stared at the trio of stones in her palm for a long minute, and at last took a deep breath. She extended her hand. “Pick one.”

  He gave her a curious glance. Was this some sort of game?

  “Go ahead,” she coaxed. “Take one.”

  He plucked one with an interesting smooth divot from her hand. “Now what?”

  “Now put it in your pocket. It’s yours.”

  The gesture caught him off guard. The rocks obviously held great sentiment. “Thank you. Irene’s the only one who’s ever given me a gift.”

  She tilted her head to ask, “Are you poking fun at me? It wasn’t a gold watch.”

  “Not at all.” His voice was low. As a child his sister had drawn him pictures and once, in subsequent years, had sewn him a shirt that was too small. He still had it, though.

  He closed his hand over the warm stone.

  She pushed to
her feet. “I have a notary job in the judge’s chambers at the courthouse early tomorrow, so I’d better get some sleep.”

  “I’ll be ordering lumber and getting supplies,” he said. “Will Irene be all right staying here?”

  “She can come with me,” Elisabeth said. “She’ll enjoy my meeting. The Tanners are adopting a little boy. This is only the second adoption I’ve witnessed, but it’s a joyful event watching a family form. Last time I cried.”

  He grinned. “I’m sure she’ll be glad to go with you. Do you have a key to the house we’re moving into? I can have our things moved.”

  “It’s in the carved teakwood box on the foyer table.”

  He had to stop at the bank to check on how his money transfer had progressed. He wanted to pay the Harts for food and lodging. Which gave him an idea for something to occupy Irene.

  He held his side while he rose from the cushions.

  They both reached for the doorknob at the same time, and her hand covered the back of his. She surprised him by not pulling hers away.

  They stood like that, with his heart beating so hard he wondered if she could hear it and her shoulder touching his chest. Beneath his chin, her hair was as fragrant as he remembered. Without planning to, he raised his other hand to thread his fingers through the length of her cool silken hair.

  Without preamble, she turned and was in his arms, her face raised to his expectantly.

  She smelled better than a meadow full of wildflowers on a spring day. Better than fresh linens and new mown hay. Her own unique scent clung to her and filled his senses.

  He still held the stone. The stone that was supposed to remind him of the consequences of choices. What could come of holding this young woman in his arms? What lasting ramifications would result from kissing her…from allowing himself these moments of sweet affection?

  They were as far apart in experience and points of view as a mountain peak and a gorge. She was pure and filled with hope and promise, and he was a cynic who’d seen the worst of people and looked for trouble behind every tree. She’d been raised in the lap of a kind and God-fearing family, while he’d lived a solitary existence on guts and sheer determination. She possessed a stalwart faith he couldn’t comprehend. Gabe, on the other hand, figured if there was a God up there, he’d done nothing to deserve any special consideration.