The Oregon Pursuit: Christian Western Historical (Window to the Heart Saga Spin-Off Book 1)

by Jenna Brandt

  The sisters returned home and gathered up a blanket, a picnic basket full of assorted pastries, canisters of water and lemonade, and two tin cups. They made their way to the center of town where the public park was located.

  Placing their blanket on the grass, Amelie arranged their belongings on one side of the blanket, and then gracefully sat down with her legs curled beside her. She watched as little boys ran around with sparklers and the girls in groups played hopscotch. Elise had joined her group of friends and Amelie was grateful to see her sister smiling, even if only for the night.

  “Good evening, Amelie.”

  Glancing up, Amelie was grateful to see her long-time friend, Deborah McCoy, standing next to her, with a smile on her face.

  “I can’t stay long, but I wanted to come over and wish you a ‘Happy Independence Day.’ My parents are expecting me back over at our spot,” she reported, as she gestured to a place on the grass a few blankets over. “Why don’t you come join us?”

  “Thank you for the offer, Debbey,” Amelie responded, using the nickname her best friend went by, “but I’m going to stay here and keep a spot for Elise for when she is done playing.”

  Beyond her given explanation, Amelie didn’t want to disclose her other reason for not joining her friend. Amelie was afraid it would send the wrong message to Debbey’s brother, Matthew. She did not want to encourage his apparent interest in her.

  Their families had been friends for years and they had all grown up playing together. All that changed when Amelie began developing into a woman and Matthew noticed. He had made it known he was inclined to pursue a courtship with her, which she had politely declined while she was going to school. She worried he would feel her staying in West Linn was a sign she was open to the wooing. Her feelings on the matter had not changed, causing her to keep her distance from her best friend’s family.

  Debbey frowned and the joy faded from her sparkling, green eyes. “You know, Amelie, it feels like you have been avoiding me lately.”

  She had to give it to Debbey. Her friend was perceptive. However, Amelie did not want to explain why she was avoiding Matthew, and in turn, the rest of the McCoy clan. She suspected they would disagree about Amelie’s choice not to consider Matthew as a spousal candidate. Debbey would have loved the idea of Amelie becoming her sister-in-law.

  The problem was Matthew did not want a wife who wanted to pursue any type of fulfillment out of the home. He had hated the idea of her going away to midwifing school. Matthew was even less enthusiastic when she chose to keep the bakery open after her parents’ death. The one time they had talked after the funeral, he had told her to put such a silly notion out of her head. He maintained she would be better suited to a life as a devoted mother and wife.

  It wasn’t because she didn’t want to be a mother and wife. She did. It was because she didn’t want to be only a mother and a wife. She would rather be alone than be with a man who subjugated her to only one specific role, which he deemed acceptable.

  “I have been exceptionally busy with the bakery and taking care of Elise. I have not had time to do anything else.”

  Amelie could tell her friend wasn’t completely satisfied with her answer. Before she could probe for further details, Debbey’s mother shouted for her to return to the family spot, her Irish accent distinctly heard among the crowd.

  Debbey jerked her head around to where her family sat, her curly red locks of hair, bouncing as she moved. “I have to go, but I will be stopping by the bakery later this week and we are going to make plans to spend some time together. I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

  There was no point in arguing with her friend. Amelie nodded, while saying, “I’ll see you later this week then.”

  After Debbey departed, Amelie settled back in and waited for the night’s activities to begin. The town council had plans for a pie-eating contest, a concert by the local orchestra, and a firework display to cap off the evening.

  It was a perfect night for the festivities. As the sun was setting over the mountains, the sky was dancing with colors of pinks, purples and oranges. The cool breeze was keeping the climate enjoyable. The darkness began to settle in and the townspeople slowly began to make their way to their spots on the grass.

  A pang of sadness entered Amelie’s heart. She missed her parents. It was the first holiday without them and she felt lonely sitting by herself. She wondered if she should have insisted her aunt come to the gathering. Would bad company be better than no company at all?

  “I find it appalling such a stunning woman should be sitting alone on such a fantastic night as this.”

  Amelie looked up to find the Frenchman from the bakery standing next to her blanket. She took in a deep breath as she watched him. What was he doing here and why was he talking to her?

  “May I sit with you, Miss Leclaire?”

  Letting out the breath she had been holding, Amelie looked around him and asked, “Are you alone? Where is your friend from earlier today?”

  “Should I be perturbed?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you interested in my friend?”

  She chuckled softly. “By all means, no. I was only curious.”

  “William is around here somewhere. No doubt chasing after one of the girls from the saloon.”

  Amelie frowned with disdain. The saloon, The Trail’s End, was a source of contention for most of the town. It was considered a necessity by the lumberjacks and mill workers. The majority of the town; however, wished the saloon would be shut down, or at the very least, forced to adhere to some rules as to the behavior of the clientele. Since it was the only place in town which served libations, there were constant problems spilling out from the place.

  “You seem to be put off by the mention of The Trail’s End.”

  “I don’t like what that establishment represents or anyone who would frequent it.”

  She could tell he didn’t like her answer. Avoiding addressing it, he stated, “You still have not answered my question.”

  “Suit yourself. If you want to sit down next to me, it’s your prerogative.”

  “I had hoped you would care for my company, rather than treat me with indifference.”

  Embarrassed at her obvious rudeness, she quickly amended her statement. “You are welcome to join me, if you so choose.”

  “Polite but formal. I suppose it is a step in the right direction, for some. Although, I am a man of passion, so I think I much prefer contempt over niceties. Passion is an important key in any relationship.”

  Amelie’s mouth fell open at the shocking statement. She had heard the Frenchmen were blunt, but she had never had a man talk to her in such a way.

  “Sir, I will remind you I am a proper woman. I don’t think you should be talking to me in such a way.”

  Sitting down beside her, he cocked his head to the side, while stating, “I didn’t mean to upset you. Far from it. I wish to entice you to want to get to know me.”

  He had a way of making everything seem like it had a double meaning. On the surface, his statement seemed innocuous, but the way he spoke the words “entice” and “know,” she felt like he meant something entirely different; something which was not innocent at all.

  “Refusing to converse with me? That is alright. I can do the talking for the both of us.”

  Trying to not let him disarm her with his humor, she forced herself not to smile. He was quite charming when he wanted to be.

  After not receiving the desired reaction from her, Pierre continued, “I have not suitably introduced myself, which I feel is an improper breech of etiquette on my part. I am Pierre Girard, the Vidame of Demoulin.”

  He continued to look at her, waiting for her to introduce herself in return. She could tell by his expression it displeased him she was not returning the gesture. She didn’t know why she refused to respond. Although she tried to hide it, his proximity was making her feel unsteady.

  All she had wanted to do was attend t
he night’s festivities with her sister and not be bothered. For the past two months, everyone had been bombarding her with condolences, pitying smiles, and uncomfortable sentiments meant to help. She was appreciative of everyone’s sympathy and concern, but at times, it became overwhelming. Tonight, she just wanted to be left alone and Pierre was making it increasingly difficult to relax.

  Evidently, he had given up on waiting for her to make her introduction, and started talking again. “I hear we have a mountain of entertainment in store for us. I have to confess I am excited to see how you Americans celebrate. The French are more restrained in the way we commemorate.”

  His words struck a chord, reminding her of the conversation she had with her aunt the previous day. She was tired of French people coming to her town and criticizing the country she was proud to call home. She might be French by hereditary descent, but she considered herself American first and foremost.

  Amelie jerked her head to the side and glared at Pierre. “I find your comment about the American people offensive. And for your information, my mother told me about the parties thrown by your kind in France. The aristocratic nobles are anything but restrained.”

  His eyes grew broad with surprise from her reaction. He paused for several moments before responding. “I am sorry if I affronted you. I meant nothing by it. I find it truly amusing, the idea of a ‘pie-eating’ contest. We have nothing like it in France.”

  Her voice began to get louder the more irritated she became with him. “And by that, do you mean we are backwards and idiotic?”

  “No, that is not what I meant. I think we are having a communication problem at the moment,” he stated, as he reached out and tried to touch the side of Amelie’s arm.

  Pulling away from his touch, Amelie spit out, “And by we, I assume you mean me.” Looking away, she stated coldly, “I think it best if you leave my company, Sir.”

  “Miss Leclaire, I wish I could—”

  But before he could finish, Amelie heard Matthew’s voice from beside them, cutting him off. “You heard the lady. She politely asked you to leave.”

  Amelie’s head swiveled around to watch the interaction between the two men. Pierre looked at Matthew, as if gauging what his next action should be. Matthew was strong from working at the mill on a daily basis, but Amelie suspected the foreigner could hold his own if tested. She hoped it wouldn’t come to it.

  “I am not sure why you feel the need to get involved with the lady’s and my conversation. This is a private matter.”

  “Well, as the lady in question is my future wife, I think it is my business.”

  Amelie inhaled sharply and wanted to object to Mathew’s outrageous claim on her, but it would get rid of her pesky problem in the form of the Frenchman sitting next to her. She opted to remain quiet and let the previous statement do its job.

  Looking from Matthew to Amelie, he seemed to accept the information. He stood up and reached out his hand to Matthew, saying, “I am Pierre Girald, the Vidame of Demoulin.”

  Matthew did not accept Pierre’s outstretched hand. Instead, he stated, “You should be moving on now.”

  Letting his hand drop, Pierre turned and nodded his head towards Amelie. “Pardon my intrusion, Miss Leclaire. I hope you enjoy the festivities. I will be on my way.”

  Once Pierre was out of earshot, Amelie insisted, “Matthew, I appreciate your intervention, but you should not have said what you did.”

  “I could see you were struggling to rid yourself of the man. What I am disturbed by is the fact you allowed him to sit next to you on your blanket to begin with. Debbey told me you declined to join us. I swear, I have no idea what is going through your head lately.”

  Amelie didn’t understand why she was behaving the way she had been either. One moment, she was intrigued by the French foreigner, and the next, she was ready to throttle him. No one had ever made her feel the way he did.

  “Matthew, you are a true gentleman for standing up for me the way you did, but I do not need you to put false claims on me. We are family friends and that is all.”

  “We could be more, Amelie, if you would let yourself think of me differently.”

  “I will take it under advisement, but I must inform you, my feelings on the matter seem certain.” With a dismissive tone, she added, “Enjoy the rest of your night, Matthew.”

  She could tell he was uncertain of what to do, being dismissed so firmly. After a moment of looking at her, Matthew turned and went back to his family’s spot.

  Irritated with the turn of events, Pierre searched for William in the area of where the town festivities were taking place. He hoped his friend would be a welcome distraction.

  How was it Miss Leclaire was able to get under his skin so thoroughly? Every time he came into her presence, he found himself fumbling to make a fitting impression, which was unfamiliar territory. Pierre had become an expert at charming people, but it seemed Miss Leclaire was the chink in his armor.

  It was ironic the time it proved most imperative, his charisma failed him. What would it take for him to get Amelie to see him as more than an annoyance?

  Pondering the question, Pierre finally located William talking with a red-headed girl. She seemed to be captivated by whatever he was saying. Well, that explained where William had disappeared.

  Not in the mood to deal with William’s latest flirtation, Pierre turned around on his heels and decided to head back to the inn on his own. He wanted to lie down, although he doubted he would get much sleep with his mind racing with thoughts of Miss Leclaire. She had a way of frustrating him to no end.

  Chapter 4

  Having overslept, the Leclaire sisters were behind schedule as they prepared to go to church. Amelie suspected attendance might be down due to the Independence Day celebration going late into the previous evening, but she wanted to make sure she was present.

  Since her parents passing, Amelie found immense peace when she was at church. Even though she read her Bible every morning and prayed throughout the day, she found additional reassurance when she heard Pastor McCoy speak.

  It had been challenging growing up being best friends with the daughter of the pastor of the church. Debbey and her siblings were expected to be above reproach, and in turn, anyone with whom they associated were expected to do the same. The scrutiny had created pressure for all of them to be perfect, which proved uncomfortable, as well as difficult at times. The punishment was quick and severe whenever they made a mistake. For example, when they were twelve, they snuck down the Willamette River to go swimming at midnight. They were caught sneaking back in the house by Pastor McCoy. He was furious with them; granted, he had a right to be considering any number of horrible scenarios which could have occurred. They had repented immediately and told Pastor McCoy they would never do it again.

  Amelie took one last look in the mirror and made sure her hair was firmly in place. The hair pins were doing their job in keeping her golden-brown hair in its twist. Her crisp white blouse was buttoned to the top of her neck and anchored with her mother’s cameo. She had it tucked into a light-yellow prairie skirt, which covered the worn boots she could no longer afford to replace. It was her best outfit by far and she always made sure to have it ready for Sundays. Even though they were struggling financially, she didn’t want the rest of the town to know it. Grabbing her bonnet, shawl, and Bible as she headed out the door, Amelie made sure to lock up behind her.

  As they walked the short two blocks to the church, Amelie wondered what Pastor McCoy would be speaking about today. She found his messages to be encouraging. They focused on God’s love and hope through Jesus, rather than the more common “death and despair” sermons prevalent at the churches she had visited in San Francisco while going to school.

  She had invited her aunt to attend, as she had every week since her parents’ passing. Like all the times before, her aunt had refused, citing she was not religious and had no desire to be converted. She wished her aunt would change her mind about visiting, a
s the members of the First Congregational Church of West Linn prided themselves on making guests feel welcome. Being one of the few churches at the end of the Oregon Trail, they made sure the atmosphere was comfortable and inviting.

  The chatter of little voices could be heard as they approached the church. Good, it meant they were not late if the school-aged children were still talking outside. As she came around the side of the church, she bumped squarely into a thick-framed man in a clean plaid button-up shirt. Reflexively, Amelie put her hands up to give some distance as she looked up to see who was responsible for blocking her way into the church.

  Oh, no, it was Matthew. What was she going to do? She had hoped he would already be inside, allowing her to avoid him, especially since the previous night had proved so uncomfortable. Apparently, fate was not on her side.

  “How do you do, Amelie?”

  “I’m well. Good morning, Matthew.”

  “I have been waiting for you to arrive to ask you if you would want to sit with us for the service.”

  She had her answer as to why he was not inside with the rest of his family. He planned to ambush her with a last-minute request. Trying to find the right way to politely decline his invitation, she did not respond right away.

  Elise interjected, saving Amelie from being forced to respond. “You promised me we could sit with Lizzy and Abagail.”

  “It seems it won’t be possible, Matthew.”

  He squinted his eyes in contemplation, and when a look of irritation flickered across his face, Amelie realized he had not been tricked by Elise’s concocted story.

  As he ran his fingers through his curly, auburn hair in frustration, he barked, “You know, I am getting sick of this contrary attitude of yours, Amelie. There are plenty of girls who would be pleased for me to be courting them.”

  “Correction, you want to be courting me. You’re not courting me because I have not given my consent.”