After putting the dishes in the sink to soak, Greta left Granny to give instructions to Jess and Caleb on the sewing machine. She decided to take a stroll and enjoy the first free time she’d had in a while. She relished the feeling in the air and the discernible smell of autumn as she strolled underneath the towering spruce and pine, taking deep breaths. She watched a couple of chipmunks scurry away from their perch on an outcropping of rocks and heard a Steller’s jay’s loud squawk from atop a pine branch. Reaching the end of the trail where the forest opened up, she saw familiar faces in the clearing but paused in her tracks, not wishing to disturb the couple.
She saw Zach pull Cora close, encircling her waist, while Cora put her arms around his neck. He leaned down and kissed her long and slow, almost as if drinking an elixir that seemed to satisfy a deep thirst within him, and Cora returned his fervent kisses.
A small cry escaped Greta’s lips, but she quickly covered her mouth with her hand and turned away. Once out of their hearing, she ran the opposite way of Granny’s, sobbing, when suddenly she fell to her knees on the rocky, uneven ground. A sharp pain pierced her ankle. So Zach really did think of her as just a pretty face . . . but Cora? How could she? Yet in her heart she knew that it was more her pride that was wounded, not that she was jealous. And if she were honest, she was relieved. Now there would be no more pretense.
Blinking away her tears, she rubbed her ankle to ease the pain and looked around. Here the forest opened up to a summer meadow. Over the small rise, something emerged from the ground. Tombstones? Was this the Gifford family cemetery? She struggled with her tangled dress and pulled herself up, limping her way to the headstones. It was indeed the family cemetery! The graves of Jess’s parents were side by side, and behind them was Granny’s husband’s grave, with a plot next to it that would eventually be where Granny was laid to rest.
Then another gravestone caught her eye, more weatherworn than the others. It bore an Army insignia and was decorated with a hand-stitched American flag. Bending closer to read the name inscribed, she felt her heart slam hard against her ribs.
Sergeant Bryan Gifford
United States Army
May 1867–August 1887
Fort Bridger, Wyoming
Greta dropped beside the tombstone, stunned. Her trembling fingers ran over the stone’s smooth surface and Bryan’s name in reverence, her emotions running high. An ache filled her being, and she felt faint. Everything fell into place now—he was Jess and Zach’s brother. That’s why Jess’s eyes and handwriting held an uncanny resemblance to Bryan’s. Why had Bryan never mentioned he had brothers in Colorado?
So that was why the Army private had delivered the message when Bryan died. The young man had repeated it several times for her. “Ma’am, Sergeant Gifford said, ‘There’s only one other man worth her love . . . my brother’—and then he passed.” Neither she nor the private had known he was referring to a real brother. Now she wondered, which brother had he meant—Jess or Zach? Lord, help me!
She bent over, doubled up in agony, and cried for the loss of Bryan all over again. Now that she saw his grave, it became a reality she couldn’t push away any longer. She wasn’t aware of the passing of time until a movement behind her cast a long shadow over the tombstone.
20
Jess made sure Granny’s sewing machine was secured in the back of the wagon, then he set off to find the others. Somehow Granny had wrangled Caleb into helping her wash the dessert dishes. It’d be good for him.
Jess was proud of the way Caleb was working out at the mercantile. He’d been holding his breath, waiting for Caleb’s next rascally act.
It was a perfect afternoon for either napping or enjoying a walk. Granny’s front porch swing looked inviting, but he’d rather see where everyone else was. Soon he’d be taking this walk with his bride and making plans for their future.
There was a chill in the breeze, and Jess could feel it in his bones despite the warm temperature. He stepped up his pace and turned toward the family cemetery. He’d avoided it for some time now. Today was as good as any to pay his respects and see that the weeds hadn’t taken over.
As the small cemetery came into view, he stopped short when he saw Greta sitting on the ground next to his brother’s plot. What in tarnation was wrong with her? He cleared his throat so as not to startle her. Greta yanked her head up and turned to look at him through red-rimmed eyes, one hand resting on his brother’s headstone. He walked closer, looking around, but didn’t see hide nor hair of Cora and Zach.
“Greta,” he murmured. He eased down beside her and rested one arm on his knee. “Why are you crying? You didn’t know my brother.”
Her bottom lip quivered, and she pulled a delicate handkerchief edged in lace from her dress pocket and wiped her nose. “Yes . . . I did.” She hiccupped.
He knew from the tone of her voice that she was serious. He tried to comprehend what she could possibly mean but could only watch as she tenderly ran her fingers over Bryan’s name.
“Bryan and I were engaged . . .” She tilted her head back up to meet his eyes.
“What? You must be kidding.” Had the sun gotten to her head?
“I assure you, I am not. Bryan never mentioned he had family in Colorado while he was in Wyoming. I answered the ad because the name Gifford was the signature . . . I guess I wondered if you were cousins, but you said you had no other extended family.”
A peculiar feeling swept over him, and he remembered in one of his letters that Bryan mentioned he’d found the woman of his dreams. Now it was becoming clear. The locket . . . he said he wanted to give her a locket. The sunshine glimmered on the locket lying against Greta’s dress, and he carefully lifted it, turning it over to see Bryan’s initials engraved on the back. He ran his fingernail between its two sides, popping it open. The face of his brother stared back at him with the roguish grin he knew so well, and his heart lurched. Had it really been a year since his passing?
Greta stared at him, her luminous eyes searching his.
“I should’ve known,” he murmured, reaching gentle thumbs to rub away the tears that tracked down her porcelain cheeks. “Bryan told me about this locket . . . It reminded me of something before, but I didn’t remember until now,” he whispered. “You asked us if we had cousins around here, and that was true—we don’t. But you didn’t ask if we had a sister or brother. At the time I didn’t want to talk about Bryan. My mistake. I should have.”
“There were similarities between him and you—your handwriting . . . even your voice.” She spoke quietly and struggled to stand as she used the headstone for support, wincing. “I must confess I’m not in love with Zach. Bryan was my heart’s perfect match,” she said with a trembling voice. She wouldn’t meet Jess’s gaze, but as she tried to move, she stumbled and cried out in pain.
“You’ve hurt yourself?” he asked, reaching out to steady her, but she waved a hand.
“I twisted my foot, but it’s not too bad . . . at least I don’t think.”
“Here, let me help you,” he said, taking her arm while she leaned heavily on him. The sweetness of lavender water tickled his nose, and he felt a prickle of fire shoot through him. Better not to let his thoughts wander there. He could never compete with Bryan’s ghost. She’d said he was her heart’s perfect match. Bryan had always been the dashing one, with roguish good looks and a charismatic personality. He was the apple of their mother’s eye, and though Jess adored his younger brother, he always felt he stood in the shadows.
As they moved away from the grave, Greta’s face twisted in pain.
“You can’t put weight on that foot.” In a flash, he lifted her into his arms. “Put your arms around my neck and I’ll carry you back to Granny’s.” He was glad when she didn’t protest and did his bidding, slipping her slender arms about him. He enjoyed the silky touch of her skin against his neck as he trudged back in the direction they’d come, and though he stared straight ahead, he could feel her eyes on him. He could no more d
eny the strong feelings he had for her than he could the growling in his belly when he was hungry.
Carrying her now, he remembered a time the family had gathered one Easter, when he’d frantically run down this same worn path back to Granny’s, carrying Bryan. Bryan had suffered a snakebite, but it was Jess’s quick thinking as a young teenager that had saved his brother’s life. Yet he wasn’t able to save Bryan that fateful day near Fort Bridger . . .
———
More than once, Greta had daydreamed about being in Jess’s strong arms, but now that she actually was, her thoughts were swallowed up with the fact that he and Bryan were brothers. The knowledge staggered her, and from his reaction when he examined her locket, she knew Jess felt the same. But Bryan was gone and Jess was here, holding her, caring for her. His jaw was firmly set as he looked straight ahead. Did he know that he needed her? Hadn’t he seen how she’d improved the mercantile and organized things so that even his customers complimented him?
She tried to still the fluttering of her heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings and finally faced the truth that she loved Jess even with his scattered way of thinking and absentmindedness. Perhaps what drew her to him was his slow and steady pace and his way of looking at life. So unlike Bryan, who was impulsive and reacted to every little thing. In hindsight, though she loved Bryan, she admitted that what she needed now was someone who was just the opposite of him. Part of that was maturing and knowing your own mind, she could hear Catharine say. She let out a sigh and hugged Jess’s neck tighter.
“You hurtin’ worse?” Jess looked down at her, and she noticed his nice, even teeth as he spoke his concern.
“No . . . why?”
“You’re about to pinch my head off at the shoulders!”
She leaned her head back with a little smile. “Sorry. You told me to hold on.” Her hand rested against the curling hair sticking out from his hat.
“Greta . . . I . . .” He stood stock-still on the worn path lined with thick trees and locked eyes with hers. “I can never be my brother, but before we get to Granny’s . . .”
She could feel the thumping of his heart against her side, and the manly smell of him made her dizzy. He lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers—tenderly at first, then deepening the kiss, his hat falling to the ground. She returned his kisses with passion that coursed through her very being. He kissed her again and again until she thought her lungs would burst, stunned by her own reaction. What had just happened? He was courting Cora. She wasn’t allowed to have this kind of feeling. Was she?
Through half-lidded eyes, he croaked, “Oh, Greta. I just wanted to kiss you before I let you go to my other brother. I must tell you, I’m not in love with Cora but with you . . . I guess I’ve known from the beginning, when I first argued with you. But I won’t stand in the way of Zach’s happiness and yours . . . You have my blessing.”
Greta didn’t know what to say. Maybe the truth was best. “Jess, I like Zach, but I’m afraid I don’t have the kind of feelings that a woman who’s about to be married should have for her future husband . . . And I can’t deny how I feel about you anymore.” She buried her head against his chest, feeling safe.
He jerked his head back. “You mean you care for me?” His eyes were wide with surprise.
“Yes, I do.”
“I’m really surprised. But I don’t believe I can stand up to the ghost of Bryan, and something tells me you’re not over him yet. He was everything that I’m not.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of what I feel?” she protested.
“Doesn’t matter, it’s how I feel.” He shifted her weight, reached down and slammed his hat back on his head, then started walking again, the late afternoon sun beginning to cast shadows around them. “It just won’t work,” he said, clamping his jaw shut.
What a mess things had turned out to be, Greta thought, but she knew he had closed the subject—kiss or no kiss. Problem was, his lips had sealed her heart.
21
Zach held Cora about the waist as they overlooked the plush valley below in comfortable silence. Variegated hues of rose and gray clouds streaked the sky, painting a picturesque blending of colors just above the horizon. He would never tire of this land. He gave Cora a squeeze and pointed with his free hand.
“This is my tiny piece of land. I’ve started hauling and splitting logs in that pile yonder to start a small cabin soon. I don’t think Jess really thinks I’ll ever settle down, but I want to . . . if I can. Losing my parents and my younger brother left me at loose ends, and I had trouble even thinking about my own future. I think it’s been the same for Jess. But I really want to be out on my own.” He looked at Cora, who tilted her head up at him, giving him a thoughtful expression.
“Why shouldn’t you be able to? You’re not as capricious as you think you are. You feel adrift when something happens in your life and you suddenly can’t find your way. Which reminds me of a Bible verse that I recently came across—‘I can do all things through Christ.’”
“Cora, I’m a little thickheaded, so I need reminding occasionally. Promise me you’ll do that when we’re married.” He chuckled, reaching to gently stroke her cheek. He felt privileged that she’d told him how she’d been treated by her parents when she became a Christian. Now he found himself wanting to love and protect her as she grew in her new faith. Maybe that would renew his fledgling trust and give him a better sense of direction. It certainly couldn’t hurt as they tried to build their future based on faith in God.
“I’ll be more than happy to, Zach . . . but we need to figure out the best way to work all this out.” Her eyes narrowed in concern. “There’s nothing I’d like more than to be your wife. I hope you understand that I have a heart to do mission work, and that might take me to town more often than you’d like. I’d also like to be able to invite less fortunate people to our home in the future.”
“If that’s what you feel God is calling you to do, then consider it your ministry. As long as you include me, we’ll both be happy,” he said with a tap on her nose.
Cora stood on tiptoes and kissed him soundly as her answer. When she started to pull back, he encircled her in a big hug. “I’m so happy I wrote those letters to you!” he said, grinning.
“I intend to take you to task for impersonating your brother with those flattering words of love!” Her eyes twinkled in amusement, and she squirmed away and turned to run back down the pathway.
“Promise? I can hardly wait,” he yelled at her back as he took off after her.
“Land a’ Goshen! What happened to you?” Granny popped up from her rocker, and the rest of her guests stopped chatting when Jess approached carrying Greta. Zach moved likewise to help.
“A twisted ankle. Not bad, but sore enough, I think,” Greta answered, hating the sudden attention of everyone. Jess set her down and moved aside to allow Granny a closer look.
“Let’s get your boot off so I can have a better look. Zach, lend me a hand,” Granny said, pushing Greta’s petticoats above her ankle. She shook her head. “Did you fall in a rabbit hole?”
Greta was careful to answer. “I might have. It happened so quickly that I’m not sure.”
Carefully Zach helped Granny unbutton Greta’s boot and slip it off, then Granny peeled her stocking off to reveal a swollen ankle with a little blue beginning to surface.
Granny delicately probed all around her ankle and foot, and when she touched the side of her foot, Greta knew exactly where the worst pain was. “Ouch! That’s the spot!”
“Is it broken?” Zach asked when Granny concluded her examinations.
“I’m an old hand at this, and I’d say it’s just sprained, but not as bad as it could’ve been.” Granny turned to Jess. “Go to the springhouse and get me a cold steak. I’m gonna wrap her leg. Zach, drag that stool from yonder and let’s prop her foot up.”
Jess jogged down the steps in the direction of the springhouse while Zach quickly retrieved the stool and propped
Greta’s foot up.
“My, I’ve never had so much attention. I’m all right, really,” Greta insisted.
Cora walked over to kneel down and inspect Greta’s foot. “Oh dear. What can I do to help, Granny?” Greta avoided Cora’s eyes and leaned her head against the rocker’s back, grateful that her ankle wasn’t worse than it was. But how was she going to work?
“Come with me, and we’ll find something to wrap Greta’s foot to keep it stable. I think I have a good piece of muslin we can use.” Cora followed Granny, leaving Caleb and Zach with Greta.
Caleb strolled over, his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry you hurt your ankle, Miss Greta, but I can be your gopher,” he said, his face serious.
“Caleb, that’s sweet of you, and I may need your help.” Greta gave him a grateful smile.
“We loaded the sewing machine in the wagon for you to take to the store,” Caleb said, clearly trying to cheer her up.
“Oh, wonderful. Then I can get started sewing the frock for Agnes.”
Zach pulled up a chair next to her and patted her hand. “If you’d been with me, this wouldn’t have happened.” He sounded so serious. It couldn’t be regret, not after she saw him in an intimate embrace with Cora. Was he feeling remorseful? Did he intend to marry her and yet still spend time with Cora?
Greta modestly folded her skirt back down to hide her ankle. “It’s just a small thing, Zach. Don’t worry about me. I’m sure you have more important things to occupy your mind than my little ol’ foot.”
Zach drew back. “You’ve been on my mind more than you know.”
I’m sure I have, she thought. Like how to tell me the truth.
Jess strode up the porch steps, the wrapped meat in his hands, keeping her from having to respond. Maybe she should have told Zach about the headstone, but if she asked about him and Cora kissing, then he would think she’d been spying. Now she wished she’d told Jess what she’d seen.
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