Love Finds You in Bridal Veil, Oregon

by Miralee Ferrell

  He frowned and stuck his hands in his jeans pockets and slowed his pace. He had nothing against either of them, but the idea of taking on someone else’s children at this stage of his life wasn’t attractive. Of course, someday he figured he’d probably have a child or two of his own, but they’d start out as babies. Besides, that girl didn’t like him, and he couldn’t see her willingly putting herself under his leadership.

  An idea dropped into his mind, and he smiled. Margaret was a teacher here in Bridal Veil—he’d almost forgotten that, since he’d returned after school let out for the summer. He couldn’t imagine the schoolboard being pleased with a boy living under their roof who was being investigated for murder. A quick stop at Robert Ludlow’s house might just do the trick.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Sammie broke the uneasy silence that had settled over the room. “I’m tired. Did the men get the roof done so we can sleep here tonight, or do we have to go somewhere else?”

  Margaret suddenly realized that Sammie and Joel must be exhausted after hiding out in Mr. Luscher’s barn. They’d had a meal at his house and snacks again an hour or so ago, but they both drooped on their feet and looked about ready to collapse. “Yes, honey, the men finished the roof enough for us to be safe. They have more shingles to put on tomorrow, but it’s all right, even if it rains.”

  Sammie smiled and leaned against Margaret’s arm. “I’m glad Mr. Andrew’s going to stay, and that other man is gone. I don’t like him.”

  Margaret didn’t respond and kept her eyes averted from Andrew’s. What a mess this had all become. Somehow she had to find time and quiet to sort through the questions, before the quagmire got any thicker and sucked the energy and life right out of her body.

  How she longed to turn this over to God and let Him figure it all out, but niggling doubt remained. She’d prayed about so many things these past months, and nothing in her life seemed to be working. Nathaniel had come back, but she’d found herself irritated at him more often than not. Maybe she wasn’t being fair to him or to God, but right now she was too tired and perplexed to try to unravel the threads.

  A half hour later the sheriff and Art had taken their leave, and Andrew had returned with his bedroll and pillow. Margaret had laid out a tarp and a couple of folded winter quilts on the wooden floor of the porch, in hopes it might help soften his sleep. She heard him clomping around outside, washing up and readying for the night. Offering him a cup of coffee might be nice and could give her the chance to broach the subject of her father’s letter.

  She glanced in the corner at Sammie and Joel curled up on their pallet of blankets, fast asleep. Why anyone thought she needed protection from Joel, she couldn’t understand.

  A light rap at the door drew her across the room, and she swung wide the door. “How about a cup of coffee, Andrew?” she asked softly.

  He twisted his hat in his hands but met her eyes. “No, thank you.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about today, Margaret.”

  She wrinkled her brow. “You mean the children running away, or my cabin roof falling in?”

  Andrew scratched his head, then shook it. “I mean Mr. Cooper storming off like a hive of bees had busted open and were chasing him. I didn’t mean for that to happen when I offered to stay.”

  Margaret stifled a giggle as the image he’d portrayed flickered across her mind. She must be more tired than she’d realized to even consider laughing at Nathaniel—he’d been upset at someone other than himself staying to protect her. Of course, that wouldn’t have been appropriate, after he’d asked to start courting her again.

  Then an image of his expression as he’d insisted Andrew couldn’t stay washed over her mind. Her smile faded. “I appreciate that, but I’m sure he’ll be fine.” She lifted her chin. Even Nathaniel had tried to make choices for her and didn’t seem able to trust her.

  “But you told me you cared for him, and I’m sure he’s not happy about my sleeping on your porch.”

  She stepped over the threshold and onto the porch, gently shutting the door behind her. No need to continue talking in the house while the children slept. She sank down into the chair and waited until Andrew took the other one. “I said I used to care for him and need to find out where my heart is in the matter. I’m considering giving him a chance, but that didn’t give him the right to be angry. He has no claim on me yet and may never do so.” She paused. “I need to ask you a question.”

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “I discovered something about Papa that affects me.”

  Andrew’s body tensed. “What about your father?”

  She clenched her hands in her lap. “I found a letter he left me.”

  Andrew didn’t reply, just nodded.

  “I need to understand something he said.” She continued with a rush. “Papa wrote that he’d asked you to care for me and implied”—she felt a flush of warmth move up her neck and into her cheeks and was thankful the night would hide her discomfort—“that he’d asked you to marry me.”

  Her fingers hurt with the intensity of her grip, so she tried to relax. “I don’t hold you to any promises you made out of respect for my father.” She lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders. “I don’t care to have any man interested in me due to a promise he made, no matter how solemn. That’s one of the reasons I might give Nathaniel another chance: I don’t care to have you, Papa, or anyone else deciding my future.”

  Andrew’s mouth opened, but he didn’t utter any words. He closed it and opened it again, with the same result. At last he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Margaret. I can see how it must look, but it’s not true.”

  “You’re saying Papa didn’t ask you to take care of me?” She leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest.

  He shook his head. “No. Yes. I mean—” He sighed and scowled into the darkness. “He asked if I’d watch out for you in the event that anything happened to him, but he didn’t ask me to marry you. I didn’t take his request too seriously at the time, as he seemed to be in good health. Then when he died, I remembered what he’d asked me.”

  “And you felt obligated to continue seeing me.” She started to rise. “Just as I thought.”

  Andrew reached out to touch her arm, but she drew it away. “Please, Margaret. Hear me out.”

  She wavered, wanting nothing more than to rush into her bedroom and never look at his handsome face again. She was so tired of being hurt—so sick of being betrayed. Why listen to anything he said after he’d acknowledged that Papa’s letter was true? Finally, unable to resist his pleading look, she sank back into her chair. Andrew had never lied to her in the past, at least not that she’d ever been aware of, and he deserved the time to explain. “Go ahead. But I expect you to be completely honest. No more secrets.”

  The muscles in his neck moved as he swallowed. “That’s fair.” He sat forward and clasped his hands between his knees. “When I first saw you, I was interested in you, although I didn’t fancy myself falling in love. When your father made his request, I took it with a grain of salt, and all but forgot it until after his death. Did I feel a sense of obligation to keep my word? Of course.”

  Margaret started to speak, but Andrew held up his hand. “Wait. Please.” She leaned back in her seat, and he nodded. “I felt a sense of duty for only a short time. The day I helped unload your wagon, that changed. Knowing your sadness but watching the effort you made to rise above it, hearing your laughter and seeing your determination to make a home for yourself in spite of your circumstances—I realized what an amazing woman you are. I’d come planning on asking you to the ice-cream social as a friend—to help you pass the time, and so you’d not be alone. I came away from your cabin with my heart pounding and the knowledge that you’d brought great joy to my life when you said yes.”

  Margaret held her breath as the impact of his words hit her heart so hard she could barely breathe. Her thoughts flew to Nathaniel and how she’d felt recently when with him—th
e joy and uncertainty, not knowing if he were the man she remembered or someone she no longer knew. Now the same dilemma confronted her with Andrew. “You’re saying you really care about me? Not just because of Papa, but on my own account?”

  Andrew nodded, a quiet joy shining from his eyes. “Yes. I care more than…” Just then his body stiffened and he raised his head. “Shh, I hear something.”

  Margaret sat without moving, straining to listen for anything unusual but failing to hear more than the normal night sounds. A group of crickets chirped not far from the foundation stones to the side of the porch, and a chorus of bullfrogs sounded down at the river’s edge. The lonesome cry of a coyote yipping for its mate echoed from the nearby hillside, but nothing else disturbed the night air. “Andrew? What is it?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure. Probably nothing. Could have been a deer moving through the brush.” He pushed himself from his chair, walked over to his bedroll, and reached under the pillow. A Colt revolver was clutched in his hand when he stood and faced her.

  “You think someone’s out there?” Margaret gripped her hands in her lap and stared at the gun. Most of the men had handguns or rifles for keeping varmints away or bringing in venison for the winter. Papa had owned a fine shotgun he kept for pheasants and grouse, and he’d taught her to shoot. “It could be a coyote, I suppose, but they never come close to the house.”

  Andrew stood on the edge of the porch. “Could be, but I heard there’s been bear sighted around here, and I’d rather not take any chances. Not that a handgun would do much good against a full-grown bear, but it might scare one away.”

  Another loud crack in the distance drew her attention toward the east. What in the world was out there, and why couldn’t they see it?

  Nathaniel tossed and turned in his bed, unable to sleep even after his satisfactory talk with Robert Ludlow earlier this evening. The head of the schoolboard had been shocked that Margaret would consider allowing Joel to stay in the cabin while under investigation by the sheriff for a possible murder and agreed to speak with her the next day. So why couldn’t he get to sleep?

  The look in Margaret’s eyes when he’d left her porch still haunted him and kept him punching his pillow in frustration. She’d been saddened by his lack of acceptance of those orphans. Part of him longed to stand by her side and assure her of his support, but he pushed that aside. Impatience at his weakness at even considering giving in to her desire to keep the children made him kick off the lightweight covering and roll off the mattress. If he wasn’t going to sleep, he might as well be up. From the angle of the moon it must be well after midnight. Maybe if he sat up for a while he’d be ready to go back to sleep before daybreak lit the eastern sky.

  He padded barefoot into the kitchen and reached for the coffee pot, then shoved three more sticks onto the glowing embers in the firebox of the stove. Good thing he’d fixed dinner late and coals still remained; it wouldn’t take long to heat the pot.

  Had it been a mistake to return to Bridal Veil after all these years? Was he chasing a dream where Margaret was concerned? It appeared she still held to her strong faith and desire to attend church weekly. He could live with that. But this issue of the children was another matter entirely. He bristled at the thought of that big boy living in her small cabin. It was unseemly and possibly dangerous, but he doubted from the obstinate set of her chin when he’d left that she’d listen to anything more on the subject.

  Then there was Andrew Browning. Nathaniel ground his teeth in frustration and set the pot down on the grate a mite too hard, slopping coffee over the top. The crackle and sizzle of the droplets hitting the hot grate assured him there’d be nothing left to clean.

  Browning kept popping up like a cork on the end of a fishing line. Maybe he needed to have a talk with the man and inform him of his intentions toward Margaret. He couldn’t imagine she’d be smitten with Browning, anyway. The man didn’t appear to have much, and his job as a faller didn’t promise a prosperous future. Of course, he’d probably get shifted back to the lower mill once the need for him on the logging crew ended. At least he’d been able to remove his competition for the balance of the summer and keep Margaret from seeing him so often.

  He grunted and grabbed the handle of the pot, then flinched and jerked his hand away. Hot. A dishrag lay close by, so he lifted the pot with the rag and poured the mug to the brim. Yes, that had been a smart move asking to have Browning transferred up the mountain, but now he was sleeping outside the door of the woman he planned to court. There was no justice in the way some things worked out.

  He settled into a chair in the front room and propped his feet on a low stool, his mug clutched in his hands. A shout in the distance roused him, and he stepped to the front window. Dim light from swinging lanterns moved between the trees. A group of men separated, seeming to head toward different homes, and he heard continued shouts. He grabbed his socks and boots and headed for the door. Something had to be wrong at the mill. He yanked open the door and stepped onto the porch. “What’s going on?”

  A tall, slender form moved up the path and held up his lantern. It was Julius, the teamster who delivered goods to Palmer.

  “Something wrong at the mill?” Nathaniel called out.

  “Yessir, by jing. Fire! It’s burned two houses and looks to be headed right for Palmer!”

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Margaret jumped out of bed and raced for the porch. Men’s voices and swinging lanterns had roused her from an uneasy dream where coyotes charged at the children in the shadowland somewhere between waking and sleep. She’d fallen into a fitful doze after Andrew had patrolled the cabin, finding nothing amiss. He’d urged her to get some rest and assured her he’d keep watch well into the night.

  She wrapped a robe around her waist and cinched the belt, pushing the hair out of her eyes and peering out into the darkness. “Andrew? Who’s here?”

  Andrew stood with his gun drawn, obviously unsure what the commotion might be. Margaret prayed that some of Jenkins’ friends hadn’t heard about the sheriff questioning Joel and headed over in the night for their own brand of justice. Then an instant later she shook her head, feeling foolish at the thought. The citizens of Bridal Veil were fair, open-hearted people who cared for their friends and neighbors and tried to do what was right. They’d never hurt a child, no matter the circumstances. She shivered, the image of the coyotes nipping at Joel’s heels in her dream coming back to haunt her. It had been a dream, nothing more.

  Andrew held up his lantern with his left hand. “Who’s there?” Then relief crossed his face, and he slipped the pistol into his waistband. “It’s Hiram and Grant.” He called over his shoulder and stepped to the edge of the porch. “What is it, men?”

  Grant moved into the circle of light. “Fire! It started somewhere to the east and climbed up the mountain to Angel’s Rest. Looks to be headed toward Palmer. The Trickey family got word to Palmer and sent a rider down to Bridal Veil.”

  Margaret stepped up alongside Andrew and clutched his arm, fear for the people living on the mountain making her breath catch in her throat. “How can we help?”

  “We’re asking any able-bodied men to help fight the fire. The east wind is blowin’ a bit, but not bad yet. Pray it don’t pick up any, or more homes could be in danger. Lots of canyons up there, so doubtful it’ll jump ’em all.”

  “Best not to take chances, though.” Andrew placed his hat on his head and turned to Margaret. “I’ll stay here if you’re concerned about Joel.”

  “No. You need to go help.” She looked into his eyes and felt a stab of alarm. “Be careful, Andrew.”

  “I’ll be fine.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze. “I’ll come check on you as soon as we get it under control. If it’s already moved up the mountain, you and the children should be all right, but keep an eye out, just in case.”

  “I will. Come back safe.” She reached out to him, but he’d already turned and bolted off the porch, disappearing into the
night behind the bobbing lanterns.

  Margaret shivered and stared off into the night to the east. Was that the popping, cracking sound they’d heard earlier, the fire causing dry trees to explode as it moved through the tops? Fire was every timberman’s nightmare. Please, God, keep all the men safe, but especially Andrew and Nathaniel. A flash of guilt made her cringe. So many men had families and people who cared for them, but she couldn’t help singling out the two who meant the most to her. She’d not yet decided where her heart lay concerning Nathaniel, but hearing Andrew’s words and looking into his eyes before he’d left, she’d felt a deep yearning and connection to him. Andrew’s strength of character, as well as his masculine strength, stirred her heart in a way Nathaniel had never done. Andrew had been so kind about the children, so supportive of her wants and desires, and he had a genuine love for the Lord.

  Had the love she thought she’d felt for Nathaniel been based only on the physical attraction she’d felt at the time? Had it ever possessed the depth needed for a lasting relationship? She’d thought so at the time, but since his return, what she’d thought was love felt shallow and tinny.

  Maybe Papa’s idea of Andrew watching out for her wasn’t such a bad one, after all. Recently she’d felt so safe and protected in Andrew’s presence—was that what Papa had hoped for? A deeper understanding of her father caused the petals of restoration to open a bit more, seeming only to need the rays of forgiveness to shine in and complete its work. She tucked the thought to the back of her mind, determined to think on it later.

  Nathaniel, on the other hand, didn’t appear to have changed much in that regard. She’d hoped and prayed that as he matured he’d see his need for God, but if the comments he’d made were an indication, that hadn’t happened. Could she join herself to a man who didn’t share the same godly values? At sixteen years old she’d not thought that mattered, but now she knew better. If Nathaniel truly hadn’t changed, she couldn’t see a future with him.