Unexpected Love

by Andrea Boeshaar

  “She’s a spinster.”

  Bethany shrank. That shoe could fit her foot as well.

  “Besides, no one wants her here. They put an ad in newspapers back East for a male doctor. They thought they were getting one too, until Dr. Bryce arrived in town a month ago.”

  “Yes, I know about the mix-up.” Although Bethany couldn’t be sure it was an oversight on Dr. Bryce’s part. According to Jake, she’d signed her letter of application A. L. Bryce. Everyone just assumed the rest, and since the day she arrived, Dr. Bryce didn’t appear to be offering up any explanations, even though plenty of men besides the sheriff and Jake weren’t pleased.

  “Folks say she’s running from something back East, and I just wonder if it’s true.”

  “That’s gossip, Millie. Christians ought not indulge in it.” Bethany had heard Jake say the sheriff checked Annetta Bryce’s background thoroughly—at least as far as the law was concerned. “As for you, young lady, you need to pay attention to your schoolbooks instead of romance and gossip.”

  Millie gave her foot a stomp. “I’m not a child. Why do you and my parents treat me like one?”

  Could be the tantrums. Bethany quelled an impatient sigh. Millie Winters was a challenge to be sure.

  But in spite of the vexation the girl caused her now and again, Bethany felt determined to befriend her and become her trusted teacher. Perhaps she’d somehow make a difference in Millie’s young life. However, she certainly wouldn’t accomplish such a feat by arguing with her.

  Turning to the looking glass again, Bethany gave her reflection a final inspection. She smoothed down the skirt of her cotton printed dress. The leanness she’d acquired from walking those seemingly endless days on the trail had gone. In the past few weeks she’d put on some weight, so now her clothes fit nicely again. She tugged at her bodice. Perhaps too nicely. In fact, her dresses were almost snug, thanks to Mrs. Winters’s good cook, Rosalinda.

  Bethany made a mental note to purchase some material and make a few new clothing items.

  She whirled back to Millie. “I’m famished. What’s for breakfast?”

  Millie’s countenance brightened. “Omelets with Spanish tomatoes, peppers, and onions . . . and biscuits, of course. Papa loves biscuits.” She paused, looking thoughtful. “Ever wonder why men insist upon biscuits at nearly every meal?”

  Bethany laughed lightly. “I suppose the biscuits help to satisfy their voracious appetites.” She took Millie’s arm. “Come along. Let’s go downstairs.”

  Millie complied, and they strolled into the hallway and to the stairs. “Aren’t you the least bit interested in getting married, Miss Stafford?”

  She paused on the landing as a vision of Luke McCabe flitted through her mind. “I guess I’d be a liar if I said I never wanted to get married. Doesn’t every woman?” She’d marry Luke in a heartbeat. But he treated her like he would another younger sister. Jake did too.

  “Then why don’t you?”

  “Millie, I’ve learned there are other things in life of greater importance. Serving others, showing them the love of Christ—”

  “Yes. I think so too.”

  “Then steer your thoughts toward reading and arithmetic.”

  Millie groaned.

  They finished descending the stairs, and Bethany felt hopeful. So she was making a difference with Millie . . .

  As they reached the last step, Millie proceeded to flounce into the dining room. Bethany watched in dismay as the girl boldly approached the sheriff and began a conversation. Had she no shame? No fear? Millie was certain to get her heart broken. Bethany sensed it coming like a brewing thunderstorm off in the distance. The men in Silverstone were not exactly refined gentlemen with whom a young lady could trifle in the parlor. No, they were hardworking river men, vaqueros, and former soldiers, and when it came to their land, their horses, and their women, these fellows were serious!

  “Well, good mornin’, Beth.”

  Startled from her musing, she looked to her left and found Luke leaning casually against the banister, wearing a rakishly charming smile—one that didn’t seem to belong on a reverend’s face.

  Then again, Luke was always charming, and they were merely friends.

  “Morning, Luke.”

  “You look right pretty today,” he drawled. “Can I escort you over to the dining table?”

  “Yes, thank you.” The compliment carried little weight. She knew Luke was just being his polite self. He’d been raised with the adage “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.”

  What’s more, Bethany knew that if they were in Milwaukee or even back in Jericho Junction, Luke probably wouldn’t give her a second look. He was, after all, a fine-looking man, strong, intelligent, and kind. She, on the other hand, was as plain as a field mouse. Her long hair was a nondescript brown and hung nearly to her waist, although she never wore it down. Her eyes were an average bluish-gray, like the sky on a misty morning, and her lips were just an ordinary shape. A smattering of freckles covered her nose and cheeks—her own fault, since she abhorred wearing a bonnet. She’d likely end up a spinster—a fate worse than death according to Millie Winters. But so be it. Bethany felt sure she could be a respectable part of any community as an unmarried teacher . . .

  Just not this community!

  Luke slipped her hand around his elbow and guided her toward the dining room while Bethany gave him a furtive look. His hair was the color of wet sand and his blue eyes were as clear and inviting as Lake Michigan on a hot summer day. Along his well-defined jaw line, a shadow of perpetual whiskers made the good pastor appear more like a shady outlaw; however, his warm, friendly smile disarmed even the worst skeptics. His tall frame included broad shoulders, slim hips, and long legs, and many times during their journey, Bethany found herself admiring God’s messenger instead of listening to the message—a sin of which she was forever repenting.

  But she’d gotten over that silliness now that they’d arrived in Silverstone. She simply refused to look at Luke while he preached on Sundays and, instead, forced herself to listen closely.

  They reached the dining table, and Luke seated her politely before taking his place beside her.

  “Good morning, Miz Stafford.” Paden Montano stood and smiled at her from across the table.

  She inclined her head cordially. “Sheriff.” She looked over at Jake, who had also stood when she’d entered. “Good morning.”

  “Beth.” A smile warmed his brown eyes, although it never made it to his mouth. An onlooker might think Jake McCabe was terse and unfriendly, but Bethany knew from months of traveling with the man that he simply didn’t show emotion like other folks. What’s more, his bad leg pained him terribly sometimes. But far be it for Jake to let anyone know. He preferred to suffer in silence.

  As everyone else took their places, Bethany allowed her gaze to wander around the table until it met the sheriff’s brown eyes. He seemed to regard her with interest, and she shifted uncomfortably, lowering her chin and studying the plate in front of her.

  “You look very rested, Miz Stafford.” The sheriff spoke with a soft Mexican accent that Bethany found quite enchanting. And if she were completely honest, she’d have to agree with Millie. Paden Montano was definitely a “handsome curiosity.” Today his shiny, dark hair had been pulled straight back and tied with a piece of leather string. His skin was tanned and clean-shaven, with the exception of his sleek, black mustache. “I trust you are finding your stay here in Silverstone quite comfortable,” he added, his dark eyes shining like polished stones.

  Bethany hedged, not wanting to lie. She couldn’t dare say she hated the Arizona Territory with both Luke and Jake at the table. “Everyone has been very kind to me thus far.” She turned a smile on Mrs. Winters.

  “Good, good . . . ”

  Mr. Winters gave a clap of his hands just then. “Let’s ask God’s blessing on the food and dig in.” He sat at the head of the table and nodded at Jake. “Reverend Jacob, will yo
u do the honors?”

  “Of course.” Bowing his head in reverence, he began, “Heavenly Father, we thank You for this beautiful day and the appetizing bounty You’ve placed before us. Thank You for the hands that prepared this meal. Bless it to our bodies, I ask. In Christ’s name, amen.”

  Dishes were immediately passed around the table.

  “So, Montano, I hear you had some excitement last night.” Mr. Winters forked a large piece of egg into his mouth.

  “Excitement, indeed. Cattle rustlers hit the Livermores’ ranch. Clayt suspects the Indians, of course.”

  “Any truth to that?” Ed Winters smacked his thick lips together beneath his long, bushy, light-brown beard. “I heard there’s a tribe living just over the eastern ridge.”

  “Sí, but they are a very civilized band. They’re not bloodthirsty, nor are they interested in the Livermores’ cattle.” Sheriff Montano took a long drink of his coffee. He smiled at Doris Winters. “Ah, a good strong brew. Just the way I like it.”

  The older woman blushed, looking pleased. “I’ll be sure to tell Rosalinda,” she promised, referring to the grandmotherly Mexican cook.

  “About that looting last night, Montano,” Mr. Winters continued, “you think us townfolk have to worry?”

  “No.” He bit into his biscuit.

  “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

  “Watch. Keep my ears open.” He paused to chew his food and then sat back in his chair. “I have a hunch it is the work of outlaws, but they will not get away.”

  From the sheriff’s right side Millie sighed dreamily. “You’re so brave.”

  He gave her an indulgent smile.

  “Well, I’d keep my eye on them redskins, if I was you.” Mr. Winters snorted. “Can’t trust them. I just wish the government would hurry up and take care of them.”

  Paden Montano’s face was devoid of expression, although his next words were deliberate and carried force. “It is a shame that most people feel as you do, señor, because I have known many an Indian to be more trustworthy than a white man.” He looked over at Luke. “I’m sure the reverends would agree . . . God made the Indian as well as the white man. Isn’t that right?”

  “He did.”

  “Well, even God makes mistakes,” Mr. Winters grumbled.

  “No, sir, He does not,” Jake quickly replied. Leaning back in his chair, he folded his arms, and Bethany could tell he enjoyed the turn in the conversation. “The God of the Bible is perfect and does not err. He made man in His image. ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish but have everlasting life.’ I reckon the words world and whosoever includes Indians, Mexicans, and every other kind of people there is.”

  “Thank you for the sermon.” Mr. Winters arched a brow. “And it ain’t even Sunday.”

  “Oh, now, Ed,” Doris admonished her husband, looking chagrined. “Birds fly and pastors preach.”

  Next to Bethany, Luke chuckled. “Amen!”

  Paden’s mustache switched slightly, indicating his mild amusement. Then he slid his chair backward, scraping its legs against the wooden plank floor, and rose. As usual, he’d dressed in a black shirt and trousers, but he’d tied a red bandana around his neck. “If it is any consolation, Señor Winters,” he said, adjusting his gun belt, “I have every intention of finding those cattle rustlers, whoever they are, and I gave Clayt my word.”

  The man nodded in satisfaction.

  Sheriff Montano turned to Mrs. Winters. “Breakfast was delicious, as always. Please compliment Rosalinda for me.”

  “I shall. Thank you, Sheriff.”

  With one last nod in Bethany’s direction, he strode purposely for the door and out of the boardinghouse, leaving one starry-eyed Millie Winters gazing in his wake.

  Bethany expelled a weary sigh. Would she ever be able to convince the girl to look beyond her romantic fantasies before she got hurt?

  Just then Ralph Jonas burst into the building wearing a determined expression that skirted on desperation. His gaze fell on Bethany.

  She slowly stood.

  “’Scuse me, Miss Stafford.” The man sounded breathless. “But I need to speak with you. And Preacher,” he added, his gaze hardening and moving to Luke, “I’ll thank you to stay out of my way.”