The Rancher’s Devout Bride

by Maya Stirling

  Emma sat down on the side of Bethany's bed. "You've only just arrived. How can you already like it so much?"

  "Everyone looks friendly," Bethany replied. "And the town is clean." Bethany scowled. "Not like Billings."

  Emma wondered just how friendly the townsfolk would be once they discovered the truth about her and the children. That they were all runaways. That Emma had refused to hand them over to that family in Billings.

  "We can't just leave," Clara moaned loudly. "I don't want to go back there to that horrible place. And those terrible people."

  Emotion tightened in Emma's chest. She turned her head, widening her eyes in mild rebuke, and lifted an upright finger to her lips. "Shhh, Clara. Don't speak so loudly. Remember we are in someone else's home," she advised softly.

  Not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, Clara's eyes moistened and her lower lip eased forward. As Clara turned her head away, Emma rushed to Clara's bed and perched on the edge. She caressed the side of Clara's head gently, feeling the softness of the girl's blonde hair against the back of her fingers.

  "I know this has been hard for you both," Emma said. "And you have coped incredibly well. But, it will all work out in the end. I promise." Emma glanced from Clara to Bethany. "I'm so proud of you both. You know that, don't you."

  Clara turned and looked up at Emma. There was recognizable heartbreaking sadness in the little girl's blue eyes. Moistness shimmered in them. Emma felt her throat tighten.

  "Oh, my dearest," Emma moaned and leaned down to hug Clara. As she did so, she was sure she could feel the little girl shake softly.

  Straightening back up, Emma continued to caress Clara's face, reflecting on all they'd been through these past few days. A difficult trial, a test of faith and resolve. That was the only was she could describe it to herself.

  But God had protected them. He had placed the girls in Emma's care and entrusted her with their protection. Not for the first time, she felt the weight of the duty which He had asked her to perform. He'd guided her judgment from the moment they'd arrived in Billings. He had granted her understanding and discernment, making it possible for her to see how unsuitable the placement would have been for the children.

  When they'd all arrived in Billings and met the middle-aged man and woman to whom the children had been fostered, it had been clear to Emma that the arrangement would not work. At first Mr and Mrs Whitney had been courteous enough. Emma had arranged to meet the couple at the train station. Their welcome had been warm and they'd seemed genuinely pleased to meet Bethany and Clara. They'd all gone to the Whitney's home, a modest residence not far from the train station.

  Emma had shared all the necessary paperwork with the foster couple. However, as the conversation had continued, and the formalities been attended to, and details discussed, it had become clear to Emma that Mr and Mrs Whitney were determined to be difficult. They'd been evasive when Emma had pressed them for confirmation that nothing in their circumstances had changed since making the application to the Society. And, from the moment Emma and the children had entered the Whitney house, she had felt a chill in the air. The house possessed a cold, impersonal quality. It did not look suitable as a family home for the children.

  Once inside their home, Mr and Mrs Whitney had changed, becoming arrogant and even slightly condescending toward Emma. As if she was merely a courier for the children instead of their final guarantee of a safe foster placement. But, Emma knew she had a job to do, and she had been determined to do her best.

  As the meeting had carried on, Emma had become increasingly convinced that Mr and Mrs Whitney were doing their utmost to pretend that there was no problem which would stand in the way of their accepting Bethany and Clara into their home. Time and again, Emma had asked the couple if there was anything they needed to disclose to her. In response, every time, Mr Whitney declared firmly and, Emma thought, arrogantly, that she need not be worried. And that he and his wife were eager to take charge of the children.

  Finally, Emma had followed instructions given to her by the Society. She requested evidence of sufficient funds at hand in the bank to ensure that the immediate needs of the children would be met. Also Emma requested written references attesting to the fact that Mr and Mrs Whitney's character was held in sufficiently high regard by suitable people in the local community. Both these necessities made Mr Whitney evasive and he refused to comply with Emma's request.

  As Emma's obvious reluctance to finalize the handover of the children had become apparent, Mr Whitney had become unpleasant, raising his voice and acting in a threatening manner toward Emma, demanding that she leave the house. The children had become instantly terrified, gazing fearfully at their prospective foster parents. Witnessing the terrified expressions on the faces of the children had chilled Emma to the bone and triggered a defiant response.

  Emma had been warned about such a scenario as this, and advised what she should do if faced with it. Expressing her concerns, an argument had ensued. The couple, sensing defeat, had threatened Emma. In doing so, Emma had witnessed a side to the Whitneys which made her genuinely fear for the safety of Bethany and Clara. Insistence had turned to indignation which had quickly escalated into threats. The atmosphere in the Whitney household, cold at the start, had quickly become dangerous.

  Emma had informed the Whitneys that the foster placement would not be going ahead. That was when things had become unpleasant forcing Emma to take the children, rapidly leaving the house amidst a barrage of accusations and threats from the couple. Earlier, on the way to the house, Emma had taken note of a nearby stagecoach station. Realizing that there wouldn't be a train out of Billings for many hours, and not feeling safe around Mr and Mrs Whitney, she'd had to leave Billings as soon as she could. And that had meant taking the awaiting stagecoach. Without delay.

  "Emma?" Bethany asked quietly. The blanket held over her mouth muffled the sound of her voice. "What's going to happen to us?"

  Dragging her attention back to the present, she gazed at Bethany. It was all Emma could do to mask her emotion. She swallowed hard and drew in a deep breath. There was no sense in showing the girls just how worried or confused she was, Emma told herself. She forced herself to smile at Bethany. "Don't either of you worry about a thing," she murmured. "This is all going to work out fine. God is at our side, and he will help us find a happy home for you both."

  Emma saw Bethany exchange a worried look with Clara. Did the girls believe Emma? Had they lost all confidence in her?

  Emma stood and tucked in the last, loose edges of their bedsheets. "You've both said your prayers, haven't you?"

  Clara and Bethany nodded.

  "That's good," Emma said curling her hand around the candle on the side table. She blew on it and darkness filled the room, broken only by soft moonlight through the bedroom window.

  Emma walked across to the window. "Do you want me to leave the curtains open?" she asked, already guessing what the answer might be.

  Bethany's voice was tentative. "Just for a while, Emma," she said. "Thank you."

  Emma heard fear in the little girl's voice. Darkness was the last thing the children needed. Emma turned and looked out the window. The full moon cast a silvery glow across the yard. She could see the corral off to the left, and beyond it the spread's squat outbuildings. Everything seemed so calm. So peaceful. No doubt, morning would bring feverish activity. It couldn't be easy running a ranch, she told herself.

  She saw a movement over by the stable. Jake Buchanan emerged from inside, strode languidly across to the corral fence, and leaned on the top bar of the fence. His shoulders lowered, he gazed up at the clear, starry sky. He looked thoughtful.

  Emma felt her heart quicken inexplicably. Heat flushed her cheeks and she raised a hand to her throat. How could it be that this man had been so kind to her and the children? There had been no obligation on his part to do anything for them. He didn't know the slightest thing about her. Certainly not the truth. He didn't know what had brought
her into his world. But that hadn't stopped him from conducting himself with the most perfect integrity. It was admirable in so many ways.

  She heard the girls whispering to one another. Emma went to the door. "If you want anything, call me," she told them.

  In the soft light, she could see the two beds and the indistinguishable, lumpy little forms tucked up beneath the sheets. They looked so vulnerable, it made her heart ache. She knew she shouldn't feel such closeness to them. That she should keep her emotions under control. But, they'd built up a bond between themselves during these past two weeks. That would make it all the more difficult when it finally came to letting them go.

  She and the children would part company, once Emma had had a chance to communicate with the Foundling Society office back in New York and explain to them what had happened. Alternative arrangements would have to be made. And that would mean delay and the need to find somewhere to stay until this whole mess had been sorted out. It might take weeks for this to be sorted out. Emma had limited funds in her possession. The prospect of being robbed of those funds had been another reason why she had chosen to leave the stagecoach behind.

  Emma clutched the door handle. "Goodnight, girls." Emma heard them mutter quietly as she closed the door gently behind her.

  Standing in the hall, Emma listened for sounds from downstairs. She could hear Matilda and Grace talking, but their voices were too indistinct to make out what they were saying. Clasping her hands tightly, Emma debated what she could do. In spite of the tiredness she felt, there was one thing she knew could not be put off for much longer.

  The Buchanans had welcomed Emma and the children with open arms and with a generosity which Emma found profoundly touching. The least they deserved in return was the truth. And the one person she needed to tell that truth to was Jake Buchanan.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  It was his favorite kind of a night, Jake told himself as he leaned against the corral fence. Cool and quiet and peaceful. The night sky was clear and stars were twinkling. There was a gentle breeze coming in from the rangeland. The air smelled sweet and clean. All of the tensions of the day had drained away, and now he could reflect on what he'd done.

  It had been a long day. One of the most unusual he'd ever experienced. A journey to remember. But, he figured all the trouble had been more than worth it. He told himself he'd done the right thing. What God would want him to do when faced with such a situation. And that was important.

  Once the children and Emma had been settled in their rooms, and they had washed away the remnants of the journey by bathing, everyone had shared a tasty meal in the ranch house dining room. Jake's mother had looked like she'd been delighted to have not only Jake and Grace back home, but also the presence of the newcomers, who clearly delighted her. Throughout the meal, Jake had glanced across at Emma, checking to make sure she felt at home. In a casual way, trying not to bother her. Not to make her feel self-conscious. She'd been through so much today, he told himself. The last thing she needed was him ogling her.

  Occasionally, he'd asked her if there was anything she needed. Each time he'd done so, she'd lowered her lashes demurely, her cheeks flushing slightly, and breathed a quiet reply to the effect that everything was just perfect. Emma seemed genuinely touched by the welcome she and the girls had received. Of course, it was customary, in the Buchanan household, to make people feel welcome, and tonight had been no exception.

  Bethany and Clara had scoffed the food as if they hadn't eaten a decent meal in days. Maybe they hadn't, Jake told himself. Wondering why that could be, Jake did his best to mask his concern. There had been plenty of moments today when he'd wanted to know the full story behind the three individuals he and Grace had brought to Inspiration. But he'd reined in his curiosity. Emma had more than enough to deal with, without him making a nuisance of himself.

  One thought had come to him repeatedly throughout the meal. One undeniable impression. Emma Dunbar was a graceful woman possessed of a rare beauty. She wasn't just pretty. She was beautiful. And, seeing her sitting in the dining room of the ranch house, had made Jake feel a rare excitement.

  He guessed she'd caused the turning of many admiring heads. Of that fact, he was in no doubt. There was something about the careful and dignified way she conducted herself, her poised manner, her quiet voice, that he found strangely compelling.

  It wasn't just that she had an obviously strong bond with Bethany and Clara. That was plain for anyone to see. There was an expression in her eyes that Jake just couldn't describe. It was a mixture of strength, a quiet determination, and something else which he found concerning. An almost undeniable, carefully masked, melancholy. There was no other word he could find to describe it. He'd seen that expression this evening when she'd thought no-one was looking at her. Brief flashes of an inner battle she was waging. What was she fighting against? What was she so determined to hide?

  The sound of the ranch house door opening made him turn. He saw Emma emerging onto the porch. She was dressed in a plain white gown. Her hair was loose and settled on her shoulders. Jake dragged in a deep breath and felt his spirits lift. As Emma walked across the yard toward him, Jake took a moment to regard her. She sure moved well, he told himself. Shoulders back, chin lifted with a hint of defiance. Her gaze was fixed resolutely on him. Her eyes were bright. For a moment, he felt like she was weighing him up.

  Jake's gaze dropped for a few seconds, and when he looked back up he saw, by the merest hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth, that she looked like she had just won a little victory over him by making him lower his head.

  Now she was really moving with confidence, striding toward him. It was the same confident swagger he'd seen earlier when she and Grace had come to him and the girls by the riverside. He could understand why the girls followed her every instruction. She possessed a confident authority.

  Jake hooked a thumb into the pocket of his jeans. "Thought you'd be tucked up and sleeping already," he said. "It's been a long day."

  She shook her head. "I just put the children to bed. I thought I'd take some fresh air."

  Jake leaned his arm against the top bar of the fence, trying to seem casual. Somehow, looking as if his interest was only polite didn't come easy. He wondered why he felt so self-conscious around Emma. If he'd been holding a cup of coffee in his hand right now, he was sure he would most likely be spilling it all over the yard. "Well, if it's clean air you're looking for, you certainly came to the right place," he joked.

  When she arrived at his side, he caught the softness of her scent on the night air. Once again, just like earlier in the evening, he had to work hard to mask his reaction to her nearness. Emma leaned her arms on the fence and gazed in the direction of the moonlit rangeland. She seemed lost for words. Jake was used to the beauty of the view. Maybe even too accustomed to it, he told himself. To an outsider, this all must seem like another world.

  "Did the girls settle down okay?" he asked.

  Emma nodded. "Eventually, they did. It's going to take them a while to adjust to this place, though." She turned quickly to Jake. " I didn't mean to suggest that we're staying at the ranch," she blurted out. The assumption she'd made hadn't bothered Jake. Not in the slightest.

  "Why wouldn't you stay a while?" he asked.

  "We couldn't possibly impose ourselves like that," she muttered.

  Jake smiled. "Haven't you noticed we've got plenty of room in the ranch? It's not exactly overcrowded. You're all welcome to stay here. Ma already said as much to me."

  "She did?" Emma's mouth opened with surprise. "I'm not sure I can accept. You've all been so generous already." Her brows furrowed into a deep ridge. "Maybe tomorrow, the girls and I can go into town. I'm sure there's a guesthouse we can find." She looked like she was about to say something else, but she changed her mind.

  Emotion stirred in him. Jake twisted and faced Emma. "You're not being serious, Emma. You can stay here. There's no sense in going into town."

  She nodded. "I can af
ford a place in town, if that's what you're worrying about."

  Now it was Jake's turn to darken his features. "I'm not talking about money. This is about what's right for you and the girls." Jake sighed. "Is there something wrong with the rooms? You don't like the ranch?"