Wagon Train Proposal

by Renee Ryan

  Noticing his approach, Violet grinned around her thumb. “Da!”

  Lily immediately hopped to her feet and rushed over to him. “Miss Rachel just told us about how you saved a little boy’s life. She said you’re a hero.”

  He lifted an eyebrow in her direction. “Did she now?”

  “I only told them the details of what happened.” The sassy, unrepentant tone was pure Rachel.

  Smiling, he lowered onto the bench beside her. He experienced a moment of profound peace when Lily crawled into his lap and pressed her tiny head against his shoulder.

  This. This was what he’d needed. A reminder of what he had, not what he’d lost.

  Violet tapped him on the arm. “Can we go home now?”

  “Not yet.” As the town sheriff, Tristan needed to stick around a little longer in case something bad happened. He shuddered at the many possibilities.

  “How’s Clara faring?” Rachel’s worried expression indicated she knew what was happening inside the church. She was right to be concerned. Childbirth was a dangerous prospect, ending far too often in death.

  Holding her gaze, forcing himself to stay in the present, Tristan lifted a shoulder. “As well as can be expected.”

  “What about you?” She gripped his hand and squeezed gently. “How are you doing?

  “As well as can be expected,” he said, then promptly changed the subject. “If memory serves, you’re a masterful storyteller. Now would be a good time to entertain us with an intriguing tale or two.”

  Clearly recognizing his tactic, she gave him a tender smile. “Any specific requests?”

  “I have one.” Daisy, as was typical, spoke up first. “Will you tell us the story about the woman you’re named after, the one from the Bible?”

  Rachel shot Tristan a questioning gaze.

  He considered, then nodded. “That’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll keep it simple,” she promised.

  “Even better.”

  One more squeeze to his hand and she launched into the story.

  Chapter Ten

  The Biblical story of Jacob and Rachel was full of intrigue and suspense, favoritism and deception, misplaced loyalties and greed. But it was also a love story that showed how far a devoted man would go to win his beloved’s hand in marriage.

  With so much material to choose from, Rachel decided to focus on her favorite part of the tale—the love story. “There was a man named Jacob,” she began, “who needed to find himself a wife.”

  “Oh-oh.” Daisy fluttered her hands back and forth in a show of little-girl excitement. “That sounds just like Da!”

  Rachel hadn’t made the connection until now. “Well, yes, Jacob’s situation was somewhat similar to your father’s, but not entirely the same.”

  Daisy frowned. “How come?”

  “Because Jacob didn’t have any daughters who needed a mother. He was only looking for a wife for himself.”

  “Oh, you mean like the men who got married today.”

  “That’s right.” Wondering what Tristan thought of the story so far, Rachel glanced in his direction.

  He didn’t seem to be listening. His gaze was locked on some unknown spot in the distance. There was something in his eyes. A vacancy she’d seen before. For a second, Rachel wondered if he was even aware she and the girls were sitting here with him. She wondered if he was aware of his surroundings at all.

  Lily tapped her on the shoulder. “Did Jacob find a wife?”

  Oh, right, she was supposed to be telling the girls a story. “Yes, he did, but we’re getting ahead of ourselves. We need to back up a bit.”

  Three pairs of big round eyes flooded with expectation.

  Rachel looked over at Tristan again. She could practically feel the turbulent emotions rolling off him, but he still didn’t seem to be listening to the story.

  “Jacob had a twin brother. The two didn’t get along.” She paused and, remembering her promise to keep the tale simple, chose her next words carefully. “One day Jacob and his brother fought so fiercely that Jacob had to leave home for a while.”

  Lily shifted closer to Rachel. “Where did he go?”

  Keep it simple, Rachel reminded herself. “He went to live with his uncle. On his first day there, he met a woman named Rachel.”

  “That’s your name,” Violet said around her thumb.

  “Yes, it is.” Rachel swept her hand over the child’s head. “Jacob’s Rachel was very beautiful and he fell in love with her on the spot.”

  All three little girls sighed, as did the storyteller.

  “Unfortunately, Rachel’s father was a greedy man and he didn’t want to let Jacob marry her without—”

  The church door swung opened with a bang.

  Distracted, they all looked toward the loud noise. A woman Rachel recognized as the pianist from the wedding stepped outside. “It’s a girl,” she declared. “A beautiful baby girl sporting a head full of brown hair just like her mother’s.”

  With the faintest trace of nerves, Rachel glanced at Tristan again. He was still staring straight ahead, but now his eyes were on the church, or rather on Emma, who’d just exited the building and started across the street.

  “Well, girls, looks like I’ll have to finish the story later,” Rachel said when it became evident Emma was heading their way. Her sister looked drained. Her dress was rumpled and would require a lot of effort to get rid of all the wrinkles. Her hair was a tangle of loose curls, but she was smiling.

  Tristan climbed to his feet. “How are mother and child?”

  Emma’s smile turned exultant. “The baby is healthy, Clara is exhausted, but both are doing well. I’m here because Bertha Quincy asked me to find you,” she told Tristan. “She wishes to speak with you as soon as possible.”

  He nodded. “I’ll go talk to her now.” He turned to Rachel, drew in a tight breath. “This shouldn’t take long. I already have an idea what she wants to discuss.”

  So, too, did Rachel.

  In the span of a single afternoon, Bertha Quincy’s life had changed dramatically. She now had her sister and brand-new niece living with her. They would need her full attention. She would no longer be able to watch Tristan’s daughters.

  Rachel had prayed for a place to belong. Though not quite what she had in mind, she realized she wanted to watch Tristan’s daughters. Not only in an effort to help him out, but also because she actually enjoyed Daisy, Lily and Violet. Caring for them wouldn’t be a chore. It would be a blessing.

  Emma lowered onto the bench beside Rachel, closed her eyes and released a long, exhausted breath of air. “It’s been quite an eventful day.”

  “Yes.” Nothing would ever really be the same again, Rachel thought, realizing it was time she accepted that things weren’t going back to the way they used to be

  Eyes still shut, Emma smiled serenely. “Lots of changes ahead.”

  “Yes,” Rachel said again. She needed to focus on the future. Her future. One that wouldn’t involve her family in the same ways as before.

  Daisy walked over to Emma and tugged on her arm. “I know you. You got married today.”

  Emma opened her eyes. “I did.”

  “Where’s your husband?”

  “He’s right here,” Nathan said, striding over to them. “I’ve come to steal away my bride.”

  He took Emma’s hands and drew her to her feet. For what seemed an eternity he stared into her eyes. “Hello, Mrs. Reed.”

  “Hello, Mr. Reed.”

  All that love and happiness flowing between them made Rachel’s throat close up tight. She cleared away the lump with a delicate cough. Nathan finally stepped back and attempted an apologetic grimace in her direction, but he failed miserably. Clearly, the man was too happy to frown.
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br />   Rachel watched as the newlyweds said their farewells and walked away holding hands.

  Tristan reappeared atop the church steps. His face tight, he hiked back across the street with a stiff, impatient gait. Whatever he’d discussed with Bertha Quincy wasn’t sitting well with him. He seemed in an especially edgy mood.

  As he came closer, Rachel watched an array of emotions chase across his face and wondered what he was feeling. Relief, to be sure, relief for Clara and her baby, but sorrow still lingered.

  Out of a desire to offer him comfort, Rachel reached out to him. He took her hand without hesitation.

  “Rachel.” He held her gaze and appeared about to say something profound, but then he let her go and stepped away from her. “Your family is gathering at Grayson’s house. He requested I escort you home. Evidently, Maggie has plans to feed us all before we go our separate ways.”

  Though a kind gesture on her sister-in-law’s part, it was yet another reminder that Rachel wasn’t needed anymore, at least not by her family. She would be living under a roof where she had no duties, no purpose. What would she do with her day? How would she fill the endless, empty hours?

  Ah, but another family needed her.

  Taking that to heart, Rachel gathered Tristan’s girls. They elbowed one another and fought for position until Rachel stepped in and organized them from shortest to tallest.

  “Violet, you stand here.” She pointed to a spot just to the child’s left. “Lily, you line up directly behind her and, Daisy, you come in right behind Lily.”

  The little girls hurried to their places.

  Pleased they accepted direction so well, Rachel took up her position directly behind Daisy. “All right, then. Let’s go.”

  With Violet in the lead, they set out at a relatively slow pace. They’d barely taken three steps when Rachel called their tiny group to a halt. Tristan was staring at her, mouth slightly agape. Even in a state of mild shock he was still imposing, almost as if he were silently demanding something of her.

  She felt a little light-headed under all that intensity focused on her. But when he continued staring at her, with his eyebrows cocked in silent inquiry, she angled her own questioning stare at him. “What?”

  “Do you know where you’re going?”

  Of course she did.

  She thought she did. She was pretty sure she did. Or, maybe, she didn’t. She looked quickly around, suddenly unable to get her bearings. It would seem she hadn’t paid close enough attention to the route she’d taken from Grayson’s house earlier in the day.

  “Uh...we need to head...” She adopted a confident air and pointed toward the mountains in the distance. “That way.”

  “Actually, it’s that way.” Tristan pointed in the opposite direction.

  “Oh.” Mortified, Rachel felt her cheeks grow hot. Not only had she overstepped her authority with Tristan’s children, she’d been taking them, quite literally, down the wrong road.

  “I apologize.” She forced herself to hold his gaze without flinching. “I didn’t mean to take charge.”

  “Yes, you did.” Amusement twinkled in his eyes, softening the impact of his words. Almost.

  He continued watching her with smiling eyes. But now his lips were twitching, too. Any minute he’d break out laughing.

  She sighed. “You could have stopped me before I headed out with the girls.”

  “True.”

  “And yet, you didn’t.”

  He lifted a nonchalant shoulder. “I wanted to see how long it would take you to realize your mistake.”

  The girls giggled. But they refrained from joining in the conversation. They seemed happy to remain silent spectators.

  Still unable to determine their exact location in the town, Rachel looked around her again.

  “Are you sure we aren’t supposed to go that way?” She jerked her chin toward the mountains.

  Tristan chuckled. “I think I know where my own house is, which happens to be right next door to your brother’s.”

  She sighed again. “Point taken.”

  Chuckling louder, he turned each of his daughters in the proper direction and led them away. Two steps out, he glanced over his shoulder. “You coming with us?”

  Rachel refused to sigh another time. Twice in one conversation was more than enough. “Of course I am.”

  She took up her position behind Daisy and paid very close attention to her surroundings. Next time she found herself on this side of town, she would know the way home.

  * * *

  An hour later, Tristan watched Rachel interact with her family from a position near the back of the main living area. He shifted his stance, leaned a shoulder against the wall and continued to observe the Hewitt family dynamics. Did Rachel know how much her siblings loved her? Did she understand how worried they were about her?

  Tristan had his doubts, primarily because she seemed determined to hold herself separate. Even when one of her family members engaged her in conversation, she kept a slight physical distance.

  He’d witnessed this same behavior from her earlier today. It was as if she was deliberately setting herself apart.

  The invisible barrier she’d raised between her and her family was disconcerting. Rachel had been so vibrant and full of life on the trail. He’d watched her laugh with her siblings during the day and sing songs with them around the campfire at night. She’d stood up for them against any real or perceived threats, including him.

  Tristan felt an urge to go to her, to draw out the animated woman he knew was underneath all that artificial reserve. Now that his daughters sat at the feet of Abigail’s father, listening to him regale them with life on the wagon train, Tristan had no reason not to approach Rachel.

  He pushed away from the wall.

  A soft, lilting voice stopped him mid-step. “You look tired, Tristan.”

  Forcing a lightness in his tone he didn’t especially feel, he looked into Maggie Hewitt’s sympathetic, understanding eyes. “I’m a bit tired, but no more than usual.”

  “You push yourself too hard.”

  He lifted a shoulder in response.

  “When I was speaking with Bertha this afternoon about an order she’d placed at the mercantile, she told me she can’t watch the girls anymore now that her sister and baby are living with her.” Maggie’s gaze turned worried. “Do you have another plan?”

  He shrugged again. Although Bertha had left him in a bind, the situation wasn’t entirely unexpected. “I’ll figure something out.”

  There were several options available to him, but only one he really wanted to pursue.

  “Seems nothing’s turning out the way you planned.” Maggie shot a meaningful glance in Emma’s direction.

  “Things are as they should be,” he countered. “Emma and Nathan belong together. I’m happy they found one another when they did.”

  “Still...” Maggie patted his arm. “Grayson and I had hoped it would work out for you. Your girls need a mother.”

  He said nothing because, well, she was right. His daughters did need a mother. He’d been willing to offer Emma a marriage of convenience for their sakes. But now, seeing her so happy with Nathan, understanding the love they shared, Tristan was doubly glad he hadn’t pursued a match with her.

  “What will you do now?”

  He had a plan, one he wouldn’t share with anyone until he’d spoken to Rachel first. She could still turn him down. And maybe she’d be right to do so. He wanted a wife he couldn’t hurt, a woman he couldn’t fail. And fail he would, if Rachel wanted things from him he couldn’t give.

  He wanted no part in breaking her heart.

  “Leave the poor man alone, Maggie. Tristan’s going to be fine.” Grayson entered the conversation at the perfect moment, thereby rescuing Tristan from having
to give Maggie a suitable response to her question.

  Maggie wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t say otherwise.”

  Grayson simply looked at her.

  She attempted to stomp away, but Grayson caught her by the arm. “Aw, now, Mags, don’t walk away in a huff.”

  She lifted her nose in the air and sniffed delicately.

  Laughing, Grayson kissed her square on the mouth, then whispered something in her ear.

  Eyes twinkling now, she halfheartedly slapped at his arm. “Fool.”

  “You got that right. I’m nothing but a big, sloppy fool in love with my wife.”

  “Oh, honestly.” She walked away, laughing and shaking her head.

  When she was out of earshot, Grayson turned to face Tristan. “I haven’t thanked you for not telling my family about my marriage when you joined up with them on the wagon train. That’s not the kind of news you want to find out about from a second party.”

  “Wasn’t my tale to tell.” Tristan watched Maggie laugh over something one of his daughters said. She was a different woman than the one he’d known two months ago. She was happier, everything about her seemed lighter. And Tristan knew why.

  “You’re good for her,” he told his friend, remembering how Maggie had suffered her own tragedy. Her parents had been killed in a flash flood a month before her wedding to Grayson. He’d helped her through her shock and grief.

  “She’s good for me, too.” Grayson’s expression sobered. “I daresay she saved my life.”

  Tristan didn’t argue the point. Before meeting Maggie, Grayson had been a hard man, full of anger, especially at God. Tristan had experienced a similar disillusionment after Siobhan’s death.

  But unlike Grayson, Tristan didn’t plan to fall in love again. Siobhan had been his life, his whole world, and had left him three tiny blessings to remember her by. He didn’t need or want anything more, except a mother for his daughters.

  His gaze went to Rachel, locking with hers. A moment of peace filled him.

  Grayson followed the direction of his gaze. Understanding dawned in his eyes, followed by unmistakable horror. “Rachel is too young to get married.”