Rancher to the Rescue

by Barbara Phinney

  Clare cleared her throat. Stiffening, Noah explained, “I asked Miss Walsh to be my wife and she has agreed.”

  “Congratulations, sir.” Pooley looked at Clare, his expression a little confused, as if he should have seen an office romance, but had somehow missed it. He was probably remembering how she’d recently lost her parents, too. “And congratulations, Miss Walsh.”

  “Thank you. Our engagement will be short, but it’s only part of the reason for the outing,” Clare explained. “My mentor from college is here visiting, and there is no school that afternoon. We’d like to enjoy a slightly longer lunch. A picnic at the bandstand. A quiet one, considering the circumstances.”

  “You’re going to picnic at the bandstand?” Pooley echoed.

  Again, Clare colored. It was her father who had lobbied to have the bandstand built, hoping that the town would someday have its own citizens’ band. That had not materialized. After it was built, the structure then became a long-running and much-suffered joke around town.

  “Yes,” Noah answered briskly. “It may as well be used for something.”

  “Miss Templeton and I have eaten our lunch there,” Clare added hastily. Victoria Templeton, now Victoria MacLeod, had accepted an invitation from Clare last year to eat lunch at the bandstand. Clare had enjoyed getting to know her and had been a stalwart friend to her, even when Victoria and her cousin, Rachel, had struggled through attacks on their lives and the death of Rachel’s father.

  “I don’t mind working through my lunch,” Pooley said. “I hope the weather cooperates. April is a contrary month.”

  “Thank you. In return, Miss Walsh and I will work through tomorrow’s lunch. You may take a full hour off that day.”

  Pooley’s face broke out into an uncharacteristically broad smile. “Thank you, sir!”

  In the distance, the school bell rang. Clare glanced out the window just as Tim threw open the Recording Office door. “We’re going!”

  Before she could wish him and his brother a good day, the door banged shut. At least they’d obeyed her. She stole a fast glance at Noah. Had his influence kindled this spate of good behavior?

  Her mother would be so proud of them.

  Clare’s heart clenched. Mother will never know.

  After Noah settled back into his work, she rose and walked into his office in need of his signature on a stationery order form. As she handed it to him, she said, stiffly, “I wonder if a cake on Wednesday is a bit too festive for the occasion.”

  “The occasion of our upcoming nuptials?”

  “No,” she snapped. “I mean about the loss of my parents. I don’t want the town thinking we’re callous.”

  “Do you think we are?”

  She shrugged aimlessly. “I don’t know.” She then paused. “I’m going to see Miss Thompson at lunch today,” she said, wondering if he could follow her thoughts. “To tell her about my parents.”

  “She wasn’t at church yesterday?”

  “She often travels up to Denver on the weekends because her mother lives there and is in poor health.” Noah nodded. As he did, Clare also thought about the boys during their free afternoon. “And I didn’t want Miss Worth to have to deal with my brothers.”

  Noah’s eyes twinkled. “Or the other way around?”

  “No!” She couldn’t stop a tiny smile from appearing. “I mean after having cake.”

  Noah set down his pen and looked thoughtful. “Instead of a cake, how about I order a few small pastries from that new pastry shop? They make special ones and they’ll deliver them if we give them enough time. But remember that this picnic is a reward for the boys’ good behavior. It’s not a celebratory event.”

  “True.” Clare rubbed her forehead. At some point, a celebration would be in order, for a wedding should be a joyous occasion, surely.

  But there was still the loss of her parents. “It’s hard to decide what to do. We’re getting married, yet it’s overshadowed by my parents’ disappearance.”

  “We’ll make our wedding a quiet affair. We’ll keep the guests to a minimum.”

  Clare hadn’t even considered a guest list yet. “Have you telegraphed your parents? Will they be coming?”

  His congenial expression dropped. “No,” he retorted. “I am no longer in communication with them.”

  Not in communication? What did that mean? Another question, why, rose to her lips, but she hesitated.

  Noah suddenly softened. “I’ll ask Alex Robinson to stand up with me.”

  Clare nodded vaguely. Alex Robinson was Proud Bend’s sheriff, and for a short time last fall, he’d gone missing. A few days later, he’d been replaced, in a secret move, by his twin brother, Zane, who’d wanted to find him and a young woman who had also disappeared. The secret switch had been designed to oust a kidnapper, it was rumored. After the sheriff had been found, Zane had returned to his hometown with his new wife, Rachel. Although Rachel had returned briefly for her cousin’s wedding, Zane had stayed out East. Clare had heard they planned to return someday.

  She paused. Rachel and Zane’s wedding had been a quick, quiet affair, as it had been shortly after Rachel’s father had died. Such a thing was possible and acceptable.

  “I’ll ask Victoria to be my maid of honor,” Clare finally said. “She’s busy with her new family, but since we’re having a modest ceremony, she’ll be able to stand up for me, I’m sure.”

  Noah nodded. “It will all work out. I’ll finish the paperwork and ask Mrs. Turcot to help organize the refreshments afterward. She enjoys that sort of thing.”

  “Thank you,” she said before clearing her throat. “Your influence with the boys is commendable. I didn’t expect they’d obey me when I told them to stay until the bell rang.”

  Noah accepted the paperwork Clare still held, all the while keeping his attention on her. “Does that bother you?”

  Did it? She could feel her mouth tighten. It really shouldn’t, except that one day with those pint-sized hooligans and Noah had calmed them down. He’d been a wonderful influence on them, where she’d had little success. Her mother had done her best, and her father had organized the chores Tim and Leo did, but still, her brothers managed to find trouble as easily as a cat found a mouse.

  “I was surprised, that’s all,” she answered, folding her arms. “My parents had not been that successful at disciplining them.”

  “I’m a new person in their lives. I’m sure the obedience will wear off. Don’t forget that they’ve only been acting on their feelings.”

  Clare sniffed and looked away. Was he using her words against her? He hadn’t believed her before but he didn’t sound like he was scoffing at her. She looked down at him, for he was still seated, while she’d remained standing. She’d walked in here to give him the stationery requisition, and to ask that their upcoming picnic be less festive. Resentment had followed her in.

  Lord, please rid me of it.

  Noah stood and walked around the desk. Clare shot a nervous look through the glass to where Mr. Pooley was busy with a man who’d just entered.

  Noah took her hand. His tone was gentle. “You’re jealous.”

  She yanked it back. “I am not!”

  He didn’t answer, but from the way his lips quirked she knew he disagreed with her.

  She swallowed. Yes, she was jealous. Noah had been kind and noble and had even managed to control Tim and Leo in ways that no one in her family had been able to do. And in a far shorter time.

  Hers was a natural reaction, she told herself, nothing to be ashamed of.

  Yet it was something to be very ashamed of. She called herself a Christian, but look at her. She resented her fiancé, a man she didn’t even love, and just mere days before their wedding. She resented him and was jealous of him and if that wasn’t enough, she appreciated how he wasn’t rub
bing her nose in it.

  And a part of her didn’t mind any of it. That part of her wanted to change.

  Honestly, this whole affair was getting more confusing. How were they ever going to make their marriage work when her emotions toward him were changing with every minute?

  Clare picked up his fountain pen and handed it to him. “Please sign that requisition, Mr. Livingstone. We need the supplies.” Then she walked out of his office.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was Wednesday already, Clare marveled as they approached the bandstand. Where had the time gone?

  At lunch on Monday, while the children played outside—including Mary Pemberton, whose dress and pinafore could be in danger of soiling—Clare told the boys’ teacher about her parents.

  Miss Thompson had hugged her and offered her help in any way she could. Clare had thanked her and, in case she started to cry, she had beaten a hasty exit a short time later.

  Tuesday swept by Clare with the speed of a steam locomotive across the prairies. She’d worked in silence all through her lunch, saying little to Noah.

  She didn’t want to be jealous, and afraid she was, she’d kept her head down and toiled away all the harder. At home, she’d whirled around the kitchen like a windup toy, declining Miss Worth’s offer of assistance. Leaving her to it, Miss Worth must have surely felt that Clare was taking her advice on hard work to heart.

  Now, Wednesday, falling into step beside Noah, Clare peeked up at the sun and grimaced. She had left her parasol in her office, and now in the brilliant sunshine, she regretted her negligence.

  I’ll be as freckled as a farm boy.

  Over at the bandstand, holding the picnic basket, stood Miss Worth. The boys were kicking a rock back and forth in front of her. Clare straightened. This day was for her brothers, a way to reward them and take their minds off their grief for a short time.

  Guilt nibbled at her. Shouldn’t she be in mourning? Shouldn’t she be hiding in her home and planning a memorial service? Something worthy of the family’s standing in Proud Bend. Theirs had been one of the first families to settle here.

  Clare swallowed. Would people see her wedding as a way for her to keep out of the poorhouse?

  It wasn’t. Nor did she care that Noah’s ranch house was more rustic than her comfortable, two-story home. Her marriage was only a way to keep her family together.

  Except that you have already told half the town you were never planning to marry. How does that make you feel?

  Shamed.

  Clare shut her eyes a moment. Be that as it may, you knew you were going to face adversity, thinking that women deserved more rights than they had. You’d told yourself you were strong enough to face the life God had planned for you.

  Resolute, she threw back her shoulders and marched across the street in front of a wagon rumbling past.

  “I’m glad the town built seats in this,” Noah said as they crossed the street. “We wouldn’t be able to use it otherwise.”

  Clare looked at him. She’d made some sandwiches with thin slices of cooked chicken. She’d also boiled eggs and made a dozen or so fig macaroons.

  “I mentioned to my father after I first invited Victoria to have lunch with me, that the bandstand needed seats. Father asked the mayor, and lo and behold, there were seats before winter. I think my father could spin a good reason for anything.”

  “All we need is a band, then.”

  She snickered at the town’s long-running joke. “You’ve heard me sing in church. I won’t be a part of anything musical.”

  Right then, Clare noticed the pastry shop’s door open. She could see the owner’s wife carrying a tall steel pot with a covered tray atop it. The much-coveted pastries and hot cocoa were on their way. She glanced hastily around, but the street was empty.

  Inside the bandstand, Noah nodded to Miss Worth. “Thank you for coming,” he said politely. “I hope your visit with Clare has been good.”

  “It has.” Miss Worth studied him only briefly before setting out the food.

  The boys sat cross-legged on the floor. While everyone was eating quietly, Clare lingered with her thoughts. Noah had ordered just the right desserts, the boys had behaved, and Miss Worth had even allowed herself to eat half of a sandwich, although, to the boys’ delight, she’d split her pastry into two parts for them.

  Noah had done himself proud. She stole a glance at him and she felt her heart leap without reason.

  “I wish I could stay for your nuptials, Clare,” Miss Worth announced as she dabbed her mouth. “But I’m expected in San Francisco on Saturday.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” Clare said, packing away the remaining food. “I wish I’d been able to spend more time with you. But I do need to finish preparing my house. A man from out East is interested in renting it for his family. I got the telegram yesterday and asked the lawyer to draft a lease.”

  “I wish I could stay and help, too. Now, as a thank-you for all your hospitality, allow me to care for the boys for the rest of the afternoon.” She consulted the watch she’d pinned to her basic jacket and nodded briskly. “There are twenty-five minutes left in your lunch hour. The boys and I will take the basket home. I noticed a few games in the parlor yesterday that you have not yet packed away. Perhaps we can play one of them.”

  “Leo loves Chutes and Ladders,” Clare advised. At the name of his favorite game, her smallest brother perked up.

  “Thank you, Miss Worth.” Noah loaded up Tim with the basket. He and Clare watched the older woman herd the brothers back to their house.

  Clare stole a look at Noah. Would he suggest they forfeit the remaining free time and simply return to work? She found herself holding her breath.

  * * *

  Noah had no intention of wasting what was left of their extralong lunch. Nor did he wish to return to work. Last year, they’d always closed for the lunch hour, but in January, Governor Pitkin had ordered all state offices to stay open then, forcing the staff to rotate their breaks. He’d hoped to increase commerce, and Proud Bend’s mayor had heartily agreed. To have this time off and not worry about work was a treat. Noah did take his lunch break, but often stayed in the office during that time.

  More importantly, he and Clare needed some time to talk. And not about planning their wedding, or deciding on a routine at his home afterward, either. Instead, he just wanted them to enjoy the extended lunch—and one another’s company.

  He felt brightened by the thought.

  He dared a glance at Clare, finding her closer, her expression indecipherable. What was she thinking?

  Was she quiet because she was still dealing with her grief, or was she still thinking of how she didn’t want to be married?

  It was the only way they could solve her problem, regardless of Miss Worth’s unreasonable suggestions that harder work could fix everything.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly, watching her profile and wondering how he could erase the small creases forming between her brows.

  She turned to him. “About what?”

  “About the compromises you have to make. About hating how you can’t solve your situation by yourself and now must rely on me. We both know Miss Worth’s answer isn’t the solution here. You could work harder, but you’ll just work yourself sick and where would that leave your brothers?” He rubbed his forehead. “But remember, Clare, I didn’t suggest marriage to prove to you that you’re weak.”

  “Why did you suggest it, then? You don’t need a family to keep your job or your ranch. Was it just to help me out? You keep saying that you’re not that noble, and yet, you don’t explain why I shouldn’t think that.”

  Noah hesitated. He couldn’t answer her question, for no matter which way he answered, he would be hurting someone. He’d blurted out his proposal to Clare without thinking. He’d already in
sulted her with the look of dismay he wore after realizing what he’d offered.

  Still, he didn’t want to tell her about his parents and all that had happened, either. He didn’t want to bring up Elizabeth at all. She should never have demanded he go along with her suggestion that she’d ended their engagement. She’d caught him at a moment when he’d felt so awful for hurting her that he’d agreed to it. But to tell Clare the truth, that he’d ended his engagement to Elizabeth, would break a foolish promise to her.

  “My reasons for marrying aren’t important,” he finally said slowly. “Your situation was dire and I couldn’t allow your father, even if he might be dead, to tear apart your family.”

  Clare looked down at her hands. Noah noticed that she had yet to slip on her gloves again. She furtively picked at her nails. Then, as if realizing the bad habit, she shoved on her gloves. “Thank you. When Mr. Burrows came to register his new land and boasted about getting some boys to help him, I was terrified that I would lose Tim and Leo. As for my parents, I’m supposed to honor them, not get mad at them. I ask for forgiveness one minute and the next, I start resenting them all over again.”

  “God will forgive everything that comes from a contrite heart.”

  “I’m not sure I have that yet.” It was a simple statement, but the tone revealed that Clare wasn’t ready to try. Their gazes met, her eyes peering deeply into his. “You said you’re not in contact with your parents. Whatever they have done, you can’t forgive them?”

  Noah knew that someday, Clare would ask this, but had not counted on it happening so soon. He stared off beyond the bandstand, in the direction of Clare’s home. That was one question he didn’t ever want to answer. Yet, he’d like nothing better than to show Clare that forgiveness was not only possible, but essential. And achievable. So why wasn’t he forgiving his father?

  Noah felt his back stiffen. His father had ended the relationship, not him, by telling him to leave if he wouldn’t do as demanded.