A Bride For Brynmor (Songbird Junction Book 1)

by Jacqui Nelson

  Chapter 10

  One week later…

  Despite maintaining a steady pace, when Lark reached the train tracks and altered her course to follow them, her heartbeat sped up. Her destination was in sight.

  She’d made it. Every step had been worth it. Except for leaving Oriole.

  Ulysses was in jail for crimes witnessed by a lawman whose testimony couldn’t be altered by bribes or threats. With this unprecedented situation rendering him unable to control them, they’d agreed to become more self-reliant. They’d each purchased a compass and a pair of snowshoes and expanded their search for Wren.

  Then yesterday Oriole had insisted that, to double their chances of finding Wren, they must split up and continue separately.

  Her sister planned to roam the rangeland with an old mare and an even more ancient shepherd’s wagon that she’d found while looking for Wren at the gypsy camp. With just a bunk bed and a stove under an arched-roof box, Oriole’s new home on wheels was smaller than the railroaders’ caboose.

  Oriole wanted nothing more. She spoke only of securing her independence and finding Wren.

  But there was so much more. Like my Mor. And our special place. Lark had to go back before she could go anywhere else.

  She could’ve taken the train, but Oriole had challenged her to complete the journey on her own steam, without any assistance or restrictions. She’d trekked cross-country to her junction, which now had a station attendant.

  The woodpile had been doubled. The pumphouse hummed with life. The train could fill its boiler from the now functioning water tower. During that regular reason to stop, the attendant could load freight. A stack already waited by the track.

  The current freight man excelled at his work, but it was said his assignment was temporary. She’d come to discuss a more permanent arrangement. Judging by the smoke rising from the cabin’s chimney, he was inside or nearby. He wouldn’t have gone far with the freight sitting outside.

  She lost her rhythm with her snowshoes and stumbled. Why was the freight already outside? The train wasn’t due for—

  When she consulted her watch, her chest constricted with disbelief. The train was scheduled to arrive now. Had it really taken that long to get here? She sprinted for the cabin door.

  Why hadn’t she set out earlier? Because her nervous excitement about what might happen today had resulted in a restless night. And, as was frustratingly typical, she’d only fallen asleep shortly before she should have risen. Not even snowshoeing nonstop had made up for the lost time.

  She must hurry before the train arrived and prevented all hope of a private conversation. When she reached the cabin door, she tore off her snowshoes and jammed them in the nearest snowbank. Then she raised her hand to knock on the door.

  Before she could, it opened.

  Two lambs bounded out. Disbelief followed quickly by elation made her heart race even faster. She thought she’d never see Barnum and Bailey again.

  She scooped them up so the man filling the doorway didn’t have to. She didn’t want Brynmor to strain the wound that had landed him here, recovering at the least busy office maintained by the Llewellyn and Peregrine families.

  The weight of the lambs made her gasp. “They’ve grown so much in a week!” When she glanced up to finally meet Brynmor’s gaze, she struggled to breathe at all.

  He gazed at her with the hugest smile she’d ever seen. “Our little bounders aren’t so little anymore.”

  She hugged them close, praying she might soon do the same with Brynmor. “No one told me you kept them.”

  “I asked them not to. I didn’t want you worrying about me tending them. You have too many worries.” His smile waned, and a familiar sigh rumbled deep in his chest.

  She leaned toward the sound, wanting to be close to everything that was uniquely him. “You shouldn’t be exerting yourself.” You nearly died.

  He removed the distance between them with one step. “Maintaining this junction is the most important work I can do right now.” The heat from his body comforted her as well as his words. “I had to ensure our place didn’t become a ghost town you’d never be able to find refuge at again.”

  Appreciation and admiration for everything he did made it impossible not to smile and try to tease a smile from him in return. “Someone told me our place is too small to be called a town.”

  “That someone is elated that you’re finally here.” His fingertips skimmed her hair as if she were made of glass and might shatter under his touch. Or disappear.

  She pressed her cheek into the cradle of his palm. “So am I.” Her gaze drank him in like the clearest water.

  He looked better than ever. He faced her head-on. He didn’t try to hide his injured eye.

  “Why didn’t you give Barnum and Bailey to Max and your sister?”

  “Because someone told me the imps adored me. No one needs them as much as I do.” His gaze went to her snowshoes before locking on her again. “Waiting for you to walk out of the wilderness was a lonely business.”

  The train whistle made them both flinch. When he let go of her, she shivered with loss.

  He took the lambs from her, put them back inside the cabin, and closed the door. Then he claimed her hand, and the chill vanished. She held on to him tightly as they walked toward the tracks.

  “How much time do you have?” His voice lowered to a grumble. “When must you leave me? Tell me you’ve heard something good about Wren?”

  “I have news about everyone but her. Mrs. Fitzgerald visited the jail and had a long look at Ulysses. She says he’s her brother’s son.”

  “Then that would mean…” Brynmor shook his head as if amazed. “He wasn’t lying when he said he was related to Oriole. He’s her cousin.”

  “I’ve often speculated he added just enough truths to make his lies credible.”

  “Does Oriole believe Mrs. Fitzgerald now?”

  “No, but I do. She showed us her son’s inscription inside the violin. Oriole said it could’ve been added when she brought in the violin for repairs two years ago.”

  “Mrs. Fitzgerald has a good heart. I hope her wish to have a granddaughter in her life comes true.”

  Lark hoped for the same. When they halted by the tracks, she leaned against Brynmor and sighed in bliss.

  “Are you tired?” he asked. “You must be. When the train arrives—”

  “I’m fine.” She didn’t want to think about leaving his side, but the sound of the locomotive chugging toward them was clear now. “We’re making progress. We know Ulysses’ reason for shooting at Mrs. Fitzgerald. He lied about being Oriole’s only living relative. He wanted to make that lie a reality.”

  “He’ll stand trial for two counts of attempted murder.” Brynmor’s gaze dropped to her hand in his. “You’re finally free. You can go anywhere with your sisters.”

  “Oriole wants to hunt for Wren on her own.” The rising din of the train, as well as the sight of its engine puffing smoke as it rounded the bend, made her rush to say, “I don’t. That’s why I’m here. To ask if you’ll join me.”

  He grabbed her other hand and held her close as he faced her head-on again. “Lark, if we do this, we should—” He dropped to his knee, then winced as if he’d moved too quickly and disturbed the wound in his chest.

  “Be careful. I can’t lose you.”

  “I feel the same. That’s why I’m down here. On one knee before you.”

  One knee? That usually meant— Her thoughts spun with hope. So did the world around her. She really should’ve stopped to rest at least once on her way here.

  A mountain of a man rose in front of her. Brynmor’s arms held her steady against his chest. The train’s brakes screeched as it prepared to stop.

  “I want to spend the rest of my days with you,” Brynmor hollered above the clatter. “Here at our junction or wherever you must go.”

  “Jumpin’ Geehosofat!” The familiar expression came from the train. “Are we too late?”

  L
ark dreaded the same. Was Grandpa Gus once more leaping off the train before it stopped?

  With a package clutched in one arm and his free arm waving wildly at them, Gus stood on the train’s first platform—held securely there by Robyn and Max who shared matching mile-wide grins.

  “Have we missed the wedding?” Max ran his hand over his neatly trimmed beard as if puzzled, but his eyes said differently.

  Robyn’s gaze held the same teasing glint. “Do you need any help, big brother?”

  “I need a minute. Do not let anyone off that train.” He pulled her closer and said her name like a plea, “Lark, I fell in love with you in Cheyenne, and I’ve never stopped loving you. Do you love me?”

  “With all of my heart.” She flung her arms around his neck.

  “Will you marry me?”

  “Yes!”

  When he whooped and lifted her off her feet, she felt like a bird soaring heavenward. Wrapped in Brynmor’s love, she had no fear of falling.

  “Can we get married right away?” she asked. “I’m done waiting.”

  “I ain’t so fond of it either,” Gus called from the train. “Can we join you now?”

  “Depends. Little Red? Dog Bone?” Brynmor’s gaze went from his sister to his brother-in-law. “Tell me you brought a preacher.”

  “Sorry, Big Hill,” Max said with true regret. “Closest one’s in Denver.”

  She sighed in disappointment and then acceptance. The rapid-fire round of their nicknames combined with their easy banter made the delay easier. The Llewellyn and Peregrine families’ camaraderie was as uplifting as Brynmor’s embrace.

  Robyn winked at her. “You’ll appreciate this inconvenience later. Hedd and Griff wouldn’t give any of us a moment’s peace if you two married without them in attendance.”

  The conductor sprinted toward them, coming from the direction of the water tower where his crew filled the locomotive’s boiler.

  Lark waved at him, happy to see him in his usual industrious good health. “Mr. Court, we’re in a hurry to get to Denver.”

  “Me too.” The young man laughed. “As always,” he added on a sigh but didn’t stop smiling. “Climb aboard, and I’ll fetch your lambs from the cabin, while Max and Robyn load your freight.”

  “I want to help. What can I do?” Gus leaned toward them, keen to get off the train.

  Robyn held him back while waving them forward. “Bryn and Lark are coming up here, so you don’t have to go anywhere, Bon-papa. Remember, you need to give them your gift.”

  When they joined Gus, he proudly presented his package swathed in sturdy burlap. “I carved a weddin’ present fer both of you.”

  His conviction that there’d be a wedding brought a lump to her throat. “You’re very wise, Grandpa, to know we’d marry.”

  “Well, truth be told...I just hoped. A lot. But I know one thing fer sure.” He thrust his finger in the air. “Everyone can use my gifts. I make ’em special fer each of you. It’s a sign.”

  “A sign of what?” Brynmor asked with a bewildered chuckle.

  “Open it ’n see,” Gus urged.

  “It’s not the right portions for a countertop,” Brynmor whispered in her ear.

  That item Gus had mentioned creating for their office would be longer. The plank of wood they held was square.

  “Maybe it’s the gate,” she replied, pitching her voice low as well.

  Brynmor kept one arm around her, holding her close as they opened the gift together. It was indeed a sign. A beautifully carved board similar to the one at Noelle’s Peregrines’ Post and Freight office. But this sign said—

  “Songbird Junction.” The name felt familiar, like a childhood song or a dream. “Where is this place?”

  “It’s right here.” Gus gestured to the track and the cabin, then the earth and sky all around them. “The name came to me same as how you joined us. Swift as a meadowlark arrivin’ at an outpost ’n turnin’ it into a nest.” He tapped the sign. “This is meant to remind you ’n yer sisters where yer needed. Family needs to stick together.”

  “This is a home for all of us.” A rising tide of certainty made her stand taller.

  Brynmor’s stance mirrored hers. “We’ll make sure Songbird Junction lives up to its name. Thank you, Grandpa. Your gift is perfect as always.”

  “Yes.” Lark pulled Gus into her and Brynmor’s embrace. “Thank you for being the perfect grandfather.”

  “Don’t forget to give your bride your gift.” Mr. Court’s words claimed their attention. The conductor stood on the landing’s steps, struggling to climb up while holding onto Barnum and Bailey and another parcel.

  “Caleb.” Brynmor hurried to take the parcel. “Thank you for remembering.”

  “See! I ain’t the only one who forgets.” Gus’ hand on her shoulder stopped her from reaching down to take one of the lambs. He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Never seen a freight man in such a rush to receive a shipment. Must be darned special.”

  Mr. Court scrambled up and handed Gus the lambs. Max and Robyn arrived and joined them.

  “We’re all loaded ’n ready to go.” Robyn took Gus’ sign from her. “You’ll need both hands for Bryn’s gift.”

  “Having free hands is a gift in itself.” Max pulled Robyn into his arms. When she leaned back against his chest, they both grinned. “Heard Big Hill’s gift is more than a handful. Heard he’s worried he might want it more than you do. Heard we all might benefit from hearing—”

  Robyn’s palm pressed over her husband’s mouth halted his teasing. “Shh. Don’t give her too many clues.”

  No one moved to enter the passenger car. They all hovered around her, smiling expectantly.

  Except for Brynmor. He held out his gift, wrapped in finely woven cloth, tentatively.

  Its shape looked familiar. The weight felt even more familiar. She didn’t need to see it, or hear it as Max had joked, to know what it was. “This is from Mrs. Fitzgerald’s shop.”

  “I’ll take it back if it doesn’t interest you anymore. I don’t want you doing anything you no longer want to do.”

  She pressed his gift close to her chest so she could get as close to Brynmor as possible and stop any further worries he might have with her lips. She kissed him with all of her love. She only stopped to whisper a pledge, “Our home will always have a place for a hurdy-gurdy.”

  His sigh made her smile. So did his grin which slanted mischievously along with one quirked eyebrow. “How about a piano that still needs tuning?”

  “Until I learn how to complete that task, yes.”

  “All aboard,” Mr. Court called in his most jubilant conductor’s voice as he opened the door to the passenger car. “Or rather, all inside. Best take a seat because this train isn’t stopping till we reach Denver.”

  “That’s music to my ears.” Brynmor reached for her hand at the same time she reached for his. “I’m eager to find a preacher.”

  “So am I.” She pulled him toward the passenger car. “But heading home to Songbird Junction will always be my preferred direction.”

  She saw her path clearly now. Find Wren and keep her safe. Make sure Oriole—and everyone who’d become a part of her family—stayed safe. And be happy knowing Brynmor would be safe as well.

  Her hesitation had vanished. Her and Brynmor’s clasped hands reminded her that she was strong, and so was he. Their union was unbreakable because they made each other’s hearts sing.

  * * *

  Thank you reading Brynmor and Lark’s adventure! If you enjoyed their story, keep reading to see how a book review can make an author’s day. If you haven’t tried my Noelle, Colorado, Christmas books and you’re eager to read more about Grandpa Gus and Max Peregrine (and Max’s brother, Jack, as well), take a look at The Calling Birds (Jack and Birdie’s story set in 1876) and Robyn: A Christmas Bride (Max and Robyn’s story set in 1877).

  DEAR READER

  I hope you enjoyed Brynmor and Lark’s journey to build a home for themselves (and hope
fully for their siblings as well) in Songbird Junction.

  If you did, please write a review or say hello via the usual places including email. Every single review helps. No matter how long or short, they are a heartfelt gift that is sincerely appreciated. Hearing from readers makes my day and keeps me motivated to write my next book. I look forward to hearing from you!

  You can review on Amazon, Goodreads, or BookBub. Or even all three.

  Click the links above to go directly to A Bride for Brynmor’s REVIEW PAGES or visit the links below for my AUTHOR PAGES…

  www.amazon.com/author/jacquinelson

  www.goodreads.com/jacquinelson

  www.bookbub.com/authors/jacqui-nelson

  DEDICATION

  For Liette Bougie who has enriched my days in more ways than I can express my gratitude for. Thank you for sharing the delightful but also sometimes daunting adventure of both storytelling and life.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to my Posse of Book Angels reader team, my beta readers, and my email list subscribers who not only make my writing journey extra fun but also help make my stories better—including renaming my train conductor who started out as Mr. Smith and then became Mr. Caleb Court.

  Special thanks to

  Tina Reynolds for choosing Caleb and

  Jean Clemens Loftus for choosing Court!

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