by Leah Atwood
On her other side stood a younger man, not much older than she. Even hunched over, he made for an imposing figure. She figured he must stand over six feet tall. Opening her mouth, she tried to speak, but no words came out.
“Take your time, dear. Try sipping some water.”
Lettie leaned forward, realizing she was propped on an armchair upholstered with a soft green velvet. The tall man was quick to reach out and steady her as she tried to take a drink from the offered glass of water. Cold liquid streamed down her throat.
She tried to speak again. “What happened? Where am I?” she asked, looking around at her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was stepping off the train and beginning to fall.
“You slipped on a patch of ice. Mr. McCade was able to get to you before you hit the ground, but you still lost consciousness.” The woman held the cup to her mouth for another drink.
Mr. McCade. Oh no. Had she made a spectacle of herself in front of her intended? “Rand?” she squeaked.
He nodded and her cheeks flamed. How thoroughly humiliating. Smoothing her hair, she noted that her hat had been removed, and she spotted it on the table.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, still mortified. “I’m fine now, really.” She tried to stand, but her legs were too shaky. Reluctantly, she gave up her pursuit and settled back in the chair.
“Stay still and let your body adjust,” the white-haired man instructed. He held up a hand, fending off her objection. “Before you protest, allow me to introduce myself. Flynn Foster, the town doctor. This is my wife, Myrtle. You’re in our home now as it’s not too far from the train depot.”
Her hands flew to her stomach. “My baby. Would my fall have hurt the baby?”
Looks of surprise passed between the doctor and his wife. They clearly hadn’t known she was with child. For all she knew, they didn’t know she came to Weatherton to marry Rand, though she assumed they knew there was some connection since he remained in the room. “Your baby should be fine Miss… I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t know your full name. We only know your name is Lettie because your friend on the train cried out your name when you slipped.” Flynn Foster stroked his mustache.
“Leticia Morgan, sir.” She cast a sideways glance at Rand to see if he would speak up. He remained silent.
“Women who are with child sometimes do experience fainting episodes. Combined with the stress of travel, I believe you are simply exhausted. To be safe, I would advise you to rest the next few days, exerting yourself as little as possible.”
“I’ll make sure she stays in bed,” Rand asserted, finally speaking.
Myrtle Foster’s hand flew to her mouth. “Randall McCade, I know you’re a good man, but what you are suggesting is hardly appropriate.”
“I agree,” Flynn spoke firmly. “I’m sure you only have honorable intentions and feel responsible since you came to her rescue, but we will look after Lettie and preserve her reputation.”
“Pardon me,” Lettie said in a very small voice, which barely caught the attention of the three other people in the room. She appreciated their concern for her, but not being spoken about as though she wasn’t present.
Rand came to her side, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. He glanced down at her, silently seeking permission to tell the Fosters her purpose in coming to Weatherton. With a barely perceptible nod, she let him know he could proceed.
Clearing his throat, Rand prepared for the admission. “Flynn, Mrs. Foster, I’d like you to meet my fiancée.”
Giving a delighted gasp, Myrtle came to her and embraced her with gusto. “This is wonderful. Welcome to Weatherton. When will you be married?”
“We’d planned for today,” Rand answered. “Will that still suffice for you, Lettie, or would you prefer time to recoup?”
“Today will be acceptable. I’m fine, I promise,” she reiterated.
“Congratulations.” Flynn slapped Rand on his back.
“Come with me, Flynn. There is something upstairs that I’d like to show you,” Myrtle directed toward her husband.
“Can it wait until after our guests leave?”
Myrtle nudged her elbow into her husband’s ribs. “Perhaps they’d like a few moments alone,” she whispered.
“Ahhh, yes dear, that new thing you bought from the general store this morning.”
The couple disappeared from the room, leaving Lettie alone with Rand. Despite the awkwardness of her arrival and the situation, she smiled at the couple’s clumsy attempt at discretion. Their footsteps could be heard as they ascended the stairs. The room became silent, and Rand looked at her through an expression mixed with concern and relief. The concern she understood, but why relief? That she’d arrived? That she hadn’t been hurt during the fall? Because he didn’t find her to be hideous? She chastised herself for the superficial thought.
Although, looking at him, she couldn’t help but admire his appearance. Not classically handsome, he was attractive in his own right. Straight blonde hair, darkened almost to the color of dried grass in autumn, was trimmed to a tidy length. Olive green eyes with golden flecks stared at her so intently, she shifted in her seat. Even in winter, a time people would spend mostly indoors, his skin was darkened from the sun. Small lines spidered out from the creases of his eyes, and she wondered if they were caused from working in harsh weather conditions or were they remnants of the sorrow he’d felt when his wife passed.
His lips curled into an impish smile. “That was quite an introduction. I’ve never had a woman literally fall for me.”
Heat infused her face again until she looked at him and saw no mocking. His words had been an attempt at humor meant to put her at ease, and she did find herself relaxing in his presence. “If only you’d been wearing a suit of armor,” she quipped, playing along. “I’ve always wanted to be rescued by a knight.”
The smile spread on his face, exposing a line of straight, clean teeth and his chest shook with a suppressed laugh. “I suppose I should formally introduce myself. Randall McCade, your fiancée.”
“Nice to meet you, Randall McCade.”
“Rand. No one calls me Randall unless I’m in trouble.” He inclined his head toward the stairs, reminding her of Myrtle’s earlier scolding.
The embarrassment of her near fall was diminishing, allowing her to absorb the knowledge that she had made it to Weatherton. She was creating a new life for herself, one in which her child would be raised in a safe environment. Any fear or worry about Rand’s character was quickly being allayed. In his brief interaction with the Fosters, she could sense the mutual respect between all parties. Additionally, she’d always believed a person’s eyes conveyed valuable insight into their owner’s character. There was nothing in Rand’s green irises that flagged alarm.
A sigh of respite escaped her.
Rand must have mistaken the action for a negative connotation. “I’m sorry. You must be plumb worn out from the trip and the excitement of fainting. Why don’t I walk over to Mae’s Boardinghouse and secure a room for you? She will take care of you and we can postpone the wedding until you are fully recovered.”
His thoughtfulness warmed a part of her heart that had turned cold at the turn of events following Daniel’s death. Her mother’s betrayal and refusal to see Maxwell for who he was, plus Maxwell’s violent outburst at the farm, had stolen her faith in people. Increasingly, individuals were being placed in her life to restore that faith. Mrs. Broadmoor, Sarah and now Rand. Something told her Rand would play the largest part in that healing, but she couldn’t dwell on that now.
“I am tired,” she confessed, “but I’d rather necessities be done today so we can begin to establish a new routine.”
Referring to their wedding ceremony as a necessity made her wince. She should have found a better way to say what she meant. This marriage might be for completely different reasons than her one to Daniel, but the vows would not be taken lightly.
“Let’s see if you can stand up.” Rand slid one hand unde
r her forearm and cupped her elbow with the other.
Successfully, she stood with both feet. “See, perfect as a ripe Georgia peach.”
“Not so fast though you are as pretty as a peach.” He threw her a wink. “Try taking a few steps.”
Lettie took a few steps forward, relieved when her legs supported and moved with her. “I told you I was fine,” she boasted.
Crooking his neck, he gave her a strange look that she couldn’t interpret. Their eyes locked for several moments. “All the walkways are still extremely icy. Yesterday, the temperature warmed just enough to thaw the ice before it dropped back to freezing and made a slick mess over everything. Would you have a problem if I track down Pastor Gibbons and bring him here to perform the ceremony?”
Chewing on her bottom lip, Lettie deliberated. “If it’s not too much trouble, I really want to marry in the church. I know it doesn’t matter where it takes place, but since ours won’t be a conventional marriage, I’d at least like to keep that tradition.”
Rand rubbed his chin. “How’s this. I’ll leave you here while I return to the train station to retrieve your trunks. Once I have them loaded in the wagon, I’ll return to pick you up and we’ll drive to the church instead of walking.”
Weatherton hadn’t looked too big from her vantage point on the train. Albeit she’d not been cognizant as she’d been transported from the train to the doctor’s house, but she was almost certain the walk from where she was to the church couldn’t be far enough to warrant all that moving of the wagon. “You don’t have to go through all that trouble. I can walk.”
“I’d rather not take chances,” he said, a cloud of darkness briefly shrouding his eyes.
There was something in his expression that made Lettie not want to argue or disagree, a sadness that seemed to envelop him and leave as soon as it came. “Your arrangement sounds sensible.”
“I won’t be long, thirty minutes at the most.”
Lettie darted her gaze. “Should we tell the Fosters?”
Casting another wink her way, Rand held up a single finger. “Wait,” he mouthed.
Tilting her head, Lettie looked at him with raised eyebrows. Ten seconds later, footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs.
“That was a beautiful clock you purchased, Myrtle. I declare, you have the best decorating sense of anyone in the west. A fine piece of craftsmanship, indeed.” Flynn gave his head a definitive shake.
“I thought you would approve, darling.” Myrtle directed an adoring gaze to her husband.
Lettie knew their conversation was for show, yet there was genuine affection behind Myrtle’s gaze. Once upon a time, she had looked at someone that same way.
Stop it, she silently chided herself. Daniel is gone and there is no bringing him back.
She felt like her emotions were on that roller coaster from New York she’d read about, at a place called Coney Island that Daniel had wanted to take her to someday. Up and down. One minute she couldn’t think straight for fear of what lay ahead, the next laughing and feeling comfortable in Rand’s presence. Advice that Sarah gave her came to the forefront of her mind. Be open to what the Lord has in store for you. Focusing on Daniel’s memory was not being open. She had to stop thinking about him and embrace the life she was living.
Rand informed the Fosters of the plan, and Flynn offered to help retrieve the trunks. They hadn’t walked through the door and Myrtle was already whisking her into a less formal sitting area.
“Have a seat anywhere, dear. I still have some warm tea resting on the stovetop and I’ll prepare us a cup. Would you like any cream or sugar? Maybe a drop of honey?”
“A drop of honey would be lovely, thank you.” Bracing one hand against her back, she lowered herself onto a settee which had ornate carvings etched into the wood frame. Six months into her pregnancy, she wondered if her body would ever feel normal again. She took a deep breath and found herself fighting a yawn.
“The tea will soothe you,” Myrtle assured her, walking back into the room. “Having children is a rewarding experience, but it does wreak havoc on a woman. When are you expecting your little one’s arrival?”
“Sometime in May. My husband passed before I knew I was with child,” Lettie told her, finding a way to tell her the child was legitimate.
Myrtle frowned. “You poor thing, it’s no wonder you swooned on us. So much is happening so quickly, you can’t help being overwhelmed.”
Lifting the small cup to her lips, Lettie took a small sip. “The last few months have been a journey, but I have to keep faith that there is a greater plan.”
“That is a marvelous attitude to have. There’ve been events in my own life in which I questioned why, but I never gave up. Tomorrow always brings a new day.”
Against her will, Lettie’s bottom lip began to quiver. “Some days are harder than others.”
“That is natural. My first-born son died when he was only five. There were days I didn’t want to go on, but as time went by, those days came less and less. I got by with the help from the three F’s.”
“The three F’s?”
“Family, friends, and faith.”
“At least I have faith. One out of three must count for something,” Lettie muttered, not realizing she spoke out loud.
“You’re wrong, dear. You have a friend right here.” Myrtle reached over and patted her hand. “And when you marry Rand, he will become your family. He’s a good man. He’s only been in Weatherton about two years but has earned the respect of everyone. Doesn’t talk much about his past, but he wouldn’t be the first to come west to escape.”
Lettie bit the inside of her cheek before she could reveal information that wasn’t hers to share. She hadn’t known Rand had been here that short of a time, but she could piece together enough to decipher that he had moved from wherever to escape the memories of his wife.
The men entered the house through a rear door, snowflakes dusting their coats.
“Another storm is coming,” Flynn announced, brushing off his long, black felt duster.
“I don’t mean to rush you, but if we’re going to see the preacher today, we need to go now before the snow has fully arrived.” Rand looked at her with a questioning gaze.
“I am ready.” She stood from her seat. “Thank you for your hospitality,” she told Myrtle.
“Wait, Flynn and I are coming with you. You’ll need a witness, correct?” Myrtle jumped up from her seat, quickly gathering the empty teacups and saucers.
Lettie hadn’t thought of that. She looked to Rand for the answer.
“Yes, we will. We’d be honored to have you there.”
“Then let’s go.” When Myrtle cast a smile her way, Lettie felt she had, truly, found a friend.
Chapter Three
Pastor Gibbons stood in front of the altar instead of his usual spot behind the pulpit. Rand stood facing him with Lettie at his side. Myrtle stood beside Lettie and Flynn beside him. When he’d married Mellie, he’d held her hand during the ceremony. At the beginning of this wedding, he had reached for Lettie’s hand but withdrew before making contact.
Once the pastor began, Rand forced all thoughts of Mellie from his mind. He’d made a decision, and he had to honor it. Thinking of his first wife while marrying his second was uncouth—he owed it to Lettie to focus on her. His eyes sure didn’t mind focusing their attention on her. Behind her obvious exhaustion, existed an attractive woman with a wholesome beauty. Silky strands of auburn hair were pulled back into a twisted knot atop her head, allowing full view of her endearing heart-shaped face. A determined strength shone in her cinnamon eyes, almost disguising her nervousness. She was neither petite nor large but slightly taller than most women he’d known.
Pastor Gibbons finished reading scriptures, and the time had come to recite vows. Rand turned sideways so that he faced Lettie. Reaching for her hands, this time he took hold of them. He clasped them tightly to still her trembling fingers. One at a time, they repeated after Pastor Gib
bons.
“I now pronounce you man and wife.”
He’d done it. He’d satisfied his promise to Mellie. Now his future was dedicated to fulfilling the vows he’d just declared to Lettie. The prospect of spending his life with her didn’t appear as daunting as it had this morning before she’d arrived. From the moment he’d rescued her from hitting the ground, a protectiveness toward her had wrapped itself around his heart. He would do whatever he could to provide her with a happy, safe and content life.
With the knowledge of an approaching storm, congratulations were kept to a minimum. The small group went to the door and when Rand opened it, a strong gust of wind blew snow into the church. Visibility was greatly diminished through the blanket of precipitation rapidly coming down.
He closed the door and turned to the others, a grim look on his face. “The storm blew in quicker than we expected.” Looking toward Lettie, he broke the news. “We’ll have to stay in town tonight. Returning to the ranch would be too dangerous.”
His heart constricted with sympathy when he saw Lettie’s stricken face. “What will we do?”
“We’ll hurry to make it to the boarding house. It’s only a few buildings down from the Fosters, but we must take them home first.”
“Nonsense,” Myrtle spoke up. “We have a spare bedroom downstairs. The man who built the house when Weatherton was only a handful of people had a lame leg and couldn’t walk up steps.”
“Myrtle, darling, the storm is only getting worse. I don’t think they need a history of our home, but they are welcome to stay with us.”
“We couldn’t impose. The boarding house will suffice.” He should have paid closer attention to the weather. Everyone in the state knew how rapidly a blizzard could approach.
“Fiddlesticks. Ever since Gretchen married, the house is much too empty. As my husband kindly pointed out, we don’t have much time.”
Lettie looked at him with pleading eyes, and Rand realized that she would prefer staying with the Fosters. A bond of friendship had swiftly formed between the two. Staying with Flynn and Myrtle would be a small price to pay to set his new wife at ease. Actually, other than being an imposition, he would prefer spending the night at the Foster’s house rather than the boarding house a well.