Rocky Mountain Proposal
Rocky Mountain Proposal
Pamela Nissen
“I promised Paul that I’d take care—” Aaron pivoted slow and steady, peering at her as though he faced a firing squad “—take care of you.”
Hope couldn’t move her gaze from his as his words settled over her. For some reason, instead of bringing her comfort, they annoyed her. How could Aaron think that he could take Paul’s place? Or that she needed his help?
“Take care of me?”
“I—I know this is awkward. It is for me, too, but I…well, it meant something to Paul when I promised to take care of you,” Aaron said. “I promised to hold on to Hope.” His voice broke. “In Paul’s mind, that meant that I’d marry you.”
Hope strained to keep her shock from contorting her face, but she was pretty sure that she failed—miserably.
How could he possibly think that she would want a marriage based on obligation? She’d rather be a spinster for the rest of her life….
PAMELA NISSEN
loves creating. Whether it’s characters, cooking, scrapbooking or other artistic endeavors, she takes pleasure in putting things together for others to enjoy. She started writing her first book in 2000 and since then hasn’t looked back. Pamela lives in the woods in Iowa with her husband, daughter, two sons, a Newfoundland dog and cats. She loves watching her children pursue their dreams, and is known to yell on the sidelines at her boys’ games and being moved to tears as she watches her daughter perform. She enjoys scrapbooking weekends with her sister, coffee with friends and running in the rain. Having glimpsed the dark and light of life, she is passionate about writing “real” people with “real” issues and “real” responses.
Rocky Mountain Proposal
Pamela Nissen
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Love never ends. As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away.
—1 Corinthians 13:8
For Bill, my beloved
Your heart… Reaching wide as summer’s yawning horizon Glistening pure as winter’s white snow Standing steady as an oak tree come storm time Burning alive as autumn’s vibrant glow
Acknowledgments
Thank you to Steve and Gladys: your quaint farm and animals reside in the pages of this book. To my dear friends and family: thank you for your love and support. To Tina, Melissa and the Love Inspired family: thank you for being such a great team with which to work. To my critique partners, Diane, Jacquie and Roxanne: I am profoundly blessed by your amazing writing talent and your loyal friendship. To my wonderful children, MaryAnna, Noel and Elias: thank you for loving well, for caring deeply and for filling my life with laughter. And to my husband, Bill: thank you for being such a beautiful example of true love.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Letter to Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
Chapter One
Boulder, Colorado
1891
Aaron Drake slapped the leather reins, racing his team of horses faster over the dry and dusty road toward the train station. It seemed that all of Boulder was out this evening, moving at a snail’s pace through the city streets. His shirt was drenched in dirt and sweat from cutting down trees on this warm May day, but he took little notice as he kept his focus trained on the rutted street.
His good friend, Paul, had sent him to meet the five-forty train, although Aaron had no idea who or what was supposed to be waiting for him.
“Yee-haw! Get on!” he hollered to the team, swerving around a single horse carriage, parked off to the side of the road.
He swiped at beads of perspiration that trickled from beneath his straw hat not from heat but from the anxiety that had wrapped him tight.
Not more than three hours ago, Paul had been pinned beneath a felled tree. Aaron and his brothers, Ben and Zach, had been helping Paul harvest trees in order to build an addition onto his home. They’d been at it from sunup, chopping away at a record pace when the gigantic bur oak suddenly split three ways, barely missing Zach and pinning Paul beneath a section.
Now Paul was struggling to hang on to life, gasping for air even as he’d urged Aaron on to the train station.
Aaron hadn’t wanted to leave, but he’d been desperate to do something to help—especially as he recalled how many times Paul had been a lifesaving breath of encouragement in Aaron’s bleakest hours over the past months.
Hold on to hope….
Those words had come hard but insistent from Paul as he lay gulping in pain.
Aaron slapped the reins and whistled to the team, praying that Paul would take a turn for the better by the time he returned. Would God hear his plea this time? The past ten months had played out as one senseless tragedy after another, and Aaron had been hard-pressed to find God in the midst of it all. In the grand scheme of things, he had to wonder if there was still hope to be found.
He just didn’t know anymore. The day his newborn boy and his wife had died ten months ago had been the day a part of him had died, too.
Tugging his hat tighter over his forehead, Aaron kept his head low, avoiding the stares of several townsfolk. He rarely made an appearance outside work and church. He’d thrown himself into his job building fine pieces of furniture with his brother Joseph, and like so many of the buildings erected here in Boulder, he’d put on a respectable false front, keeping mostly to himself to avoid folks’ pitying remarks. Life was just easier that way.
He’d started doubting that the pain of his loss would ever fade. The ache was always with him. Deep down, he blamed himself. And he blamed God. He longed for relief from the crushing weight of it all yet felt helpless to help himself.
Just as he’d been powerless to help Paul.
Pulling on the reins, he slowed the team of horses, drawing them up to the hitching post at the Union Pacific Railroad Depot as he pushed his silent struggle aside. He set the brake and glanced at his pocket watch. He’d made good time but was still twenty minutes late to meet the five-forty. From the ghostly trail of coal smoke lingering in the late afternoon sky, the train had already departed.
Aaron tethered the team and strode up to the platform, glancing around. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for. A package? A delivery of some sort? Maybe some distant relative come for a visit. Paul hadn’t been specific, and with the way he’d labored to get out the few words he had, Aaron hadn’t wanted to tax him for more information.
He jammed his hands into his pockets as images of the accident flashed through his mind. Clamping his jaw tight against the cavernous feeling of desperation, he dragged in a steadying breath and scanned the platform.
“Goodness gracious, what are you doing here, Aaron Drake?” a voice called with grating familiarity.
It was Mrs. Beatrice Duncan—self-imposed town matron, bearer of any and all information and general busy-body. She could irritate a man till he clamored to sit atop the nearest roof, but she could also warm a person’s heart with her genuine demonstrations of concern. Right now, though, she was the last person he wanted to see.
He dragged up some good manners, then tipped his hat with a halfhearted nod. “Mrs. Duncan.”
She beelined toward him, grabbed his upper arm and tugged him toward a small gathering of folks on the platform. “If this isn’t perfect timing, I don’t know what is. There’s a special someone that I want you to meet.”
“I’m kind of in a hurry.” Aaron would’ve dug the heels of his worn boots into the thick wood, but he didn’t want to put the woman off balance. “Maybe another time.”
“No time like the present. That’s what I’m always saying.” She waved her hand in clear dismissal. “Say, I don’t believe I mentioned it to you last time you were in the mercantile, but I arranged for my niece from up around Longmont to have herself a nice little visit. Thought it’d be nice for the two of you to meet. And wouldn’t you know…she just came in on the train.” The woman stopped cold in her tracks. The way she peered at him, as though she’d just snared a rabbit for dinner, made his gut clench with dread. “And then here you are, too,” she added, her hinting words dropping like bread crumbs down a dark, dreary trail.
He wasn’t hungry and didn’t feel lost, either.
She perched a hand at her thick waistline and smiled like some well-fed house cat.
He could see what was coming just as clear as the errant wisps of bright orange hair framing Mrs. Duncan’s round face. Folks had been trying to nudge him toward remarrying, and Mrs. Duncan had been leading the pack, but it’d take an act of God to get him to love again. He couldn’t—not after losing his beloved Ellie. It would feel too much like betrayal.
Ignoring her not-so-subtle manipulation, he did a quick scan of the platform. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to meet her right now. There’s been an accident out at Paul’s place and—”
“I heard all about that,” Mrs. Duncan put in, as though referring to some trivial tidbit of information. “Poor soul.”
Aaron set his back teeth in frustration. On the way into town he’d stopped and informed Sheriff Goodwin about Paul’s accident, and apparently word had already spread. He could only imagine to what degree the story had been distorted by now.
He balled his fists against the trembling that still shook him deep as he recalled the desperate look on Paul’s face as he’d pleaded for help. Aaron and his brothers had worked frantically to free him. Finally, with the aid of Paul’s workhorses, they were able to lever the log off enough to pull him from beneath the overbearing weight.
Maybe there was a chance—
The grim expression on Ben’s face had said more than any words memorized from his medical textbooks.
Once they’d gotten Paul back to the house, Aaron would’ve done anything if it meant relieving his friend’s pain—even a little. Paul had weakly pleaded, “Hold on to hope. Promise me you’ll hold on to hope.”
Aaron promised, gently squeezing his friend’s hand to seal the vow.
“I heard that the sheriff sent for the minister. If you ask me…that does not bear well for Paul.” She gave her head a dismal shake. “Not at all. Folks only do that when they’re taking their last bow before knocking on death’s door.”
“Mrs. Duncan, I’m sorry, but—”
“Good thing you and your brothers were there. What was it that happened, anyways?” she prodded, angling her head his way. “Dora Trumm…she heard tell—”
“Really, I can’t go into it this minute.” Or any other minute. The situation was gruesome, and folks didn’t need to hear every last detail of Paul’s accident.
“Bea. Come on, we’re heading out,” Horace Duncan called as he gave Aaron an understanding kind of nod. “Gotta get this girl home before she collapses from her journey.”
Mrs. Duncan narrowed her gaze on Aaron. “You’ll have to stop over and have dinner with us so that you can meet my niece,” she whispered, sliding her proud gaze to the lanky young woman with mouse-brown hair, a long face and even longer teeth. “I figure you’re getting ready to start looking for a new wife. It’s been what…two years since Ellie passed?”
Aaron swallowed hard, realizing once again that his pain was his alone. No one really understood the way he suffered. “Ten months.”
Her squinty eyes sprang open. “Land sakes, that just flew by.”
In truth, the time had crept by, scraping nearly every bit of hope from Aaron’s soul.
He couldn’t go back in time and change what had happened, but conceding to the loss didn’t mean he’d peacefully accepted any of it. He’d been struggling to turn over whatever fresh new leaf he could find in the floor of his soul, attempting to find some hope, but so far he’d found pitiful little.
“Bea, are you coming?” Horace called from halfway down the platform.
Mrs. Duncan gave her head a curt shake. “The girl’s right as rain, sturdy as an oak, I tell you. But my Horace, he gets himself worked up into an impatient huff.”
“You better not keep him waiting, then.” Aaron breathed a sigh of relief as she bustled away to catch up to her family.
Shielding his eyes against the sun, Aaron wound around other passengers and those who’d come to greet them, then spotted a woman holding a parasol and an overstuffed satchel. She stood alone on the platform, flanked by five trunks, each big enough to outfit a small army. He glanced around, seeing no other passengers left unaccounted for and no parcels left unattended. Could this be who Paul had sent him to meet?
With a heavy step and an even heavier heart, he approached the woman, who labored to keep hold of her handbag, her parasol and at the same time tuck a fluff of green fabric down into her overstuffed carpetbag. She definitely didn’t look as if she was from these parts, especially with the rich-looking, off-white gown she wore. Folks didn’t dress like that around here—unless they were getting ready to walk down the aisle, of course. The graceful way she held herself once she got settled, staring off into the distance the way she was, made her appear almost like some fanciful statue, her dark hair gleaming like rich melted chocolate in the late sun.
He came to a stop and swept off his hat. “Excuse me, ma’am?”
She startled then pivoted to face him, nearly dropping her satchel. The brilliant smile lighting her fair face faded to obvious disappointment. “Yes?”
He inched the brim of his hat around in his hands. “Seems that you’re waiting for someone. Am I right?”
She swept her gaze over a photograph she held. But when she attempted to tuck it into the side pocket of her bag, her parasol clattered down to the wood planks. “As a matter of fact, yes, I am. I’m sure he’ll be here any moment.”
“It looks like you have your hands full. Can I help?” He gave her a congenial smile as he bent to retrieve her parasol.
She eyed the frilly fashion contraption. “Thank you, sir. But I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
Aaron could’ve walked away right then, but the vulnerable look he glimpsed in her emerald gaze and the almost forlorn way she toiled to keep hold of all of her stuff nailed his feet to the wide-plank platform. “I don’t mean to pry, but do you mind me asking who you’re waiting for?”
She gave the hem of her fancy off-white bodice a gentle tug as though setting herself right, but as far as Aaron could tell, not one hair or fiber lay out of place—city slicker, no doubt. By the bird-in-a-roomful-of-cats look about her, she’d likely not be around long. Although when his focus drifted to the sea of enormous trunks that surrounded her like servants to some fair maiden, he had to wonder. It’d take a lifetime and then some to wear that many garments.
He glanced around one more time, certain he must’ve missed a parcel or passenger, because this woman surely couldn’t have been who Paul had sent him after.
“I’m waiting for Mr. Thompson.” She cleared her throat. “Mr. Paul Thompson. Do you know him?”
Aaron flipped his gaze to the woman. “Yes, I do.”
He knew Paul almost as well as his own brothers. As sturdy on the outside as he was on the inside—Paul’s faith was unwavering.
Surely, there was something Aaron could’ve done to prevent the accident. Maybe if he’d been more attentive and noticed that the oak was splitting he could’ve warned Paul in time.
He pulled in a steadying breath. “Actually, Paul sent me to pick you up.”
Confusion crossed her face, and that same faint look of disappointment came once again, making him feel downright awful. “I see. Was Paul detained, then?”
“I’ll explain on the way out to his place. Why don’t I get your trunks loaded up in the rig?” He glanced at the trunks again as he wondered what relation this woman was to Paul. And more, how he was going to break the news to her about the accident. “My name’s Aaron Drake, by the way.” He held out his hand to her, but her arms were too full to exchange any kind of handshake. “Here, let me take that for you.”
“Thank you so much.” The slightest blush colored her cheeks as she handed her bag to him. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Drake.”
“If you don’t mind, Aaron is fine.” Realizing that the satchel handle had ripped, he tucked it beneath his arm. “We’re not much for pretense around here.”
She paused. “All right then, Aaron.”
“I’m a good friend of Paul’s—been friends for years. Are you a relative of his?”
He took in her features, looking for some similarity, but where Paul was hearty and stocky in his build, this woman was delicate and refined. Her fair skin seemed as if to glow where Paul’s skin showed the effects of countless hours of sunlight.
The hint of the smile he’d initially seen warmed her face. “I’m his bride-to-be.”
“His what?” he choked out.
This woman was as opposite to Paul as a mountain lion was to one of Ben’s pampered house cats. She seemed utterly unfit for the West. Was this some joke? Paul hadn’t said anything, not one thing about some fancy bride-to-be. Surely, he would’ve shared this small bit of information. He’d often talked of having a wife and family—someday—but he’d never indicated he was already halfway down the aisle.
“Did you say bride-to-be?”
The way her brow inched together just slightly in the minutest look of hurt gave him pause.
“We’re to be married today,” she answered, her voice soft and vulnerable as she trailed her slender fingers down her elaborate skirt.
“Today?” He swallowed hard.
“Just as soon as the minister is available—at least, that’s what Paul had written in his last letter.” She took her parasol from him and popped it open. “My name is Hope Gatlin.”
He struggled to hold his disbelief in check. It just wasn’t like Paul to keep such a monumental secret. “Nice to make your acquaint—”
Hope…
Hope?
Alarm shot down Aaron’s spine as Paul’s words galloped through his mind with the reckless speed of a wild stallion. Promise me you’ll hold on to Hope. Don’t ever let her go.
Aaron would never give his word on something he didn’t intend to fulfill. And he prided himself on wearing loyalty like a favorite shirt, but right now, taking in the gravity of it all… What had he promised?
Chapter Two
“Can you go any faster?” Hope queried yet again, the wagon creaking in protest. She could not remember one time in all of her twenty-two years when she’d begged for a quicker pace, but for the last mile since Aaron had broken the news to her about Paul’s accident, Hope had actually made the request three times.
Glancing over at Aaron, she fought to ignore the way her stomach still pitched from the last hairpin curve they’d lurched around. “Please?”
His blue eyes grew wide as he passed a glance from her parasol to her. “Ma’am, I’ll say it again. If I go any faster over these rutted roads, I run the risk of breaking the rig.” On a sigh, he turned onto a long path leading to a farm. “Besides, we’re here. This is Paul’s homestead.”
She stared ahead at the quaint farm, taking in every rustic nuance: the two-story clapboard house, the barn and chicken coop, the fields, the cows. Paul had described this place to her in his letters. He’d built everything from the ground up and had told her of how the barn had been erected in a day with the help of friends. He’d been slowly adding to the number of cows he had and was looking forward to purchasing more this spring.
Hope had marveled at his love for the land, but having been raised in a family of means in Boston, she didn’t know the first thing about farming. She’d told him that she didn’t mind hard work and would help out wherever she could, but Paul had insisted that she not dirty her pretty little hands. He’d been set on pampering her.
That sweet memory only added to the lump in her throat and the pain in her heart. She’d never imagined looking for love through the mail-order bride advertisements, but her friend had found love there. Hope had answered an ad strictly to relieve her family’s financial burden shortly after her father had lost his small fortune a year ago. With her mother insisting on keeping the house staff and with six girls at home, her father was working himself nearly to his grave, trying to manage, and this seemed the only way Hope could help.
Aaron brought the team to a stop and swung down to the ground. While he strode around to her side, she made a discreet attempt to follow him with her gaze. If the man would crack a smile on his stony face, he might be half-pleasant looking. She took in the scruff of beard on his face and his filthy clothes and couldn’t help wondering why his congenial demeanor had changed so abruptly back at the train station. His dirt-smudged face had gone ashen after she’d introduced herself, his already tense expression turning almost angry. For the life of her, Hope couldn’t figure out why.
She’d struggled to tamp down her extreme disappointment once she’d realized that Paul hadn’t mentioned her arrival to Aaron. Was Paul embarrassed by her, as Jonas had been after her family’s financial demise?
She’d been engaged to Jonas Hargrave, a longtime family friend, for two years. She’d loved the idea of marriage to a man who professed undying love. But right after her family had lost their means, she began glimpsing regret in his gaze, and as far as she was concerned, a marriage rooted in obligation would be no marriage at all.
Holding fast to her dignity, she’d eased him off the marriage hook.
He didn’t even flinch.
But then she’d met Paul. His letters had been so wonderful—almost too good to be true. He’d shown her the way to God. And her newfound faith had seemed almost too good to be true as well. The ten months she’d corresponded with Paul had been filled with hope and excitement and anticipation. She’d been certain that life would be wonderful. But now…
Paul had been seriously injured—that’s what Aaron had said. If they couldn’t get married today, that was perfectly acceptable to Hope. She could wait a day or two. She’d just do what she could to help him get better. Perhaps she’d apply cool cloths to his forehead or fluff his pillows every now and then or prepare some broth to help him keep up his strength.
“Ma’am.” The gentle sound of Aaron’s voice catapulted her to the present as he stood at her side. “I can’t help you get your feet on the ground if you don’t pry those hands loose.”
Hope looked at where she clutched her parasol and at where she’d curled white-gloved fingers in a death grip over the rough wood seat. She grappled for composure as she released her hold, her hands and arms aching from hanging on so tight. “I guess that perhaps the ride was a bit fast.”
He raised his brows over his steel-blue eyes as if to challenge her a bit fast estimation. When he stuck his hand out to help her down, she glimpsed a tremor of nervousness there. She felt a swell of compassion for the man, no matter how cold he’d been.
“Do you think Paul will feel up to having visitors?”
He no sooner got her feet on the ground than he released his hold as though her waist had been beaded with thorns. “My brother Ben is a doctor.” He started toward the house at a brisk pace. “He’s been here with him from the minute the accident happened, and he’s doing everything he can to make Paul comfortable.”
Clutching her reticule and parasol to her chest, she scrambled to catch up with Aaron, nearly tripping over the hem of her ivory brocade wedding dress. Wanting to be prepared for this momentous occasion, she’d changed out of her emerald-green taffeta dress at the train’s last stop before arriving in Boulder.
“Is he…is Paul in pain?” She almost ran into Aaron when he came to an abrupt halt at the yawning front porch that stretched across the front of the house.
His wary gaze passed over her like the dank fog that often permeated Boston Harbor. “Yes. Ben tried to give him laudanum earlier, but he wouldn’t have it. Said he wanted to be awake and aware of things until the—well, for as long as he could.”
She considered his words for a moment. Was he bracing her for the worst? Could Paul die—when she’d only just arrived? Surely, not.
Imagining her future husband lying in excruciating pain, she dabbed at tears crowding the corners of her eyes.
“I’m advising you to stay out of the house if you have a weak stomach,” he warned, his admonishing tone bordering on degrading. “Paul needs us to be strong.”
“Of course. Of course, I will,” she assured, but remembering how weak-kneed she’d been when her best friend’s little dog, Edward, had howled in pain after being kicked by a horse just last month, she wasn’t so sure.
“He’s a sturdy man, but a body can only take so much. And believe me…he’s endured more than any man I know.”
“He is strong, though. Very strong.” She remembered the reassuring way Paul had shared his faith with her in the letters. His words had been a lifeline, a fortress in the midst of a very difficult time. Surely, God wouldn’t let him die now, just as they were to marry. “I’ll do everything I can to help, but I’m sure he’ll be just fine.”
The door swung open in front of them at that moment, and a darker-haired version of Aaron stepped out onto the porch, his face grim and his eyes red-rimmed.
“He’s gone, isn’t he?” she heard Aaron ask, his voice low and strained.
The man nodded. Visibly swallowing, he blinked hard.
Hope’s knees went weak. Her head spun and her vision narrowed, but she willed herself to stay standing. She could barely take it all in.
Pulling her reticule closer, she strained to hold on to some hope. “Gone?”
Aaron pulled his mouth tight, battling to hold his raw emotion in check.
The slow finality in Ben’s nod sent Aaron’s heart to his stomach. “He passed away no more than five minutes ago.”
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, Ben,” was all he could force out as he peered up at where his brother stood on the porch. Had it not been for Mrs. Duncan waylaying him, maybe Aaron would’ve made it back sooner. And then there were the trunks he’d lugged to the wagon; that had taken a fair amount of time.
When he heard a small sniffle next to him, he turned to see Hope’s mouth drawn into a line. Her brow crimped. She held her reticule so tight to her chest that whatever she had stashed inside would be crushed.
“I’m sorry.” He set a hand on her shoulder to comfort her, feeling anything but natural in doing so.
Ever since she’d given her name, Hope, he’d been silently writhing in sheer panic. He’d tried to be congenial, and he’d worked at being caring when he’d told her about Paul a mile back, but all he could think about was the promise he’d made and what it meant—and how he was loyalty-bound to fulfill his words.
He’d promised to hold on to hope and not let her go.
But he didn’t know that hope was Hope.
He could pay her passage back to where she came from, though he couldn’t exactly make good on his promise to watch out for her from a distance, could he? But the idea of being anywhere near Hope threatened like a gun aimed directly at his vows to Ellie.
It might be easier if Hope was some dowdy spinster lucky to snag a strapping man like Paul. But Hope was nowhere near dowdy. She was beautiful…striking…elegant.
She was also a city slicker.
And that particular attribute was nothing like Ellie.
“It’s just all so sudden.” Her eyes grew moist, sending a trickle of compassion through him.
He braced himself for her to let loose a flood of tears, but instead she drew in a steadying breath, lifted her chin a little higher and ascended the steps.
Ben cleared his throat and motioned them inside. “You must be Hope,” he uttered as they preceded him into the house.
“Yes, I am.” Her voice shook slightly.
When Aaron spotted a few drops of blood that had splattered on the floor when they’d carried Paul inside, he pulled out his kerchief and hunkered down to rub them away. He wasn’t sure how Hope would respond and was intent on getting rid of the remnants before she screeched in fright.
“I’m Ben. Aaron’s oldest brother.” He closed the door behind them. “Paul just told us about you, Hope. He said you’d be coming.”
Paul had told Ben and Zach about her? Aaron angled a glance down the hallway to Paul’s room. He could hear the sheriff’s voice and Zach’s voice, too, and had to wonder what exactly Paul had said after Aaron had left for the station.
She moved into the room and set her bag and parasol at the door. She looked around her as if to get her bearings.
“Where is he now?” she asked, unpinning the matching velvet half of a hat she’d worn and sweeping it off her dark brown hair. Small tendrils wisped down to frame her face. “May I see him?”
Ben sliced a concern-filled look to Aaron.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Aaron finally responded. He and his brothers had done their best to clean Paul up, but all of the care in the world couldn’t reconstruct broken bones and reduce overt swelling. “He was in bad shape. I wouldn’t want your only view of him to be this way.”
She peered up at him with a stubborn tilt to her chin. “I’m sure I’ll be just fine. Besides, if this is the only way I’ll see him face-to-face, then that is what I shall do. It’s better than not having seen Paul at all.”
He caught the shadow of approval that crossed Ben’s face and couldn’t help but silently applaud her surprising show of strength.
“This way, then.” Ben led the way back to the room and motioned Zach and the sheriff out.
Aaron could hear Ben speaking to Hope in the doctorly tone of voice he reserved for grim moments like this. He braced himself for a loud wail or sob from the young woman but heard nothing—not even a sniffle.
And that was almost worse.
Once Ben exited the bedroom and closed the door behind him, Aaron let out a heavy sigh.
“What do we do now?” he whispered as Ben moved over to where Aaron stood with the sheriff and Zach. “I mean, Paul had planned on marrying her as soon as she arrived. We don’t know a thing about her.”
Ben crossed his arms at his chest and rubbed a hand over the late-afternoon scruff on his chin. “We do know that Paul cared for her deeply, however. Enough that he made arrangements with the sheriff here to have his bank account and land deeded to her name.”
“You can’t be serious,” he ground out.
“As serious as the river’s rise come spring, son,” the sheriff corrected.
“Was he in his right mind?” Aaron probed, feeling squeezed by the way he’d promised himself between a rock and a hard place.
“Yes, he was in his right mind.” The reproving look Ben gave pulled Aaron up short. “In fact, he made a stipulation that if, by summer’s end, Hope decides that staying here on the farm is too much, then she can sell. The money would be hers to keep and do with what she wanted.”
The sheriff sliced a breath through his sparse teeth. “Don’t know what her background is, but one way or t’other, as far as money’s concerned, she’s settin’ pretty now. Just as pretty as the lady is herself,” he added with a tactless chuckle.
“Sheriff, do you mind going into town to let folks know?” Ben ushered the man to the door. “That would help a great deal.”
Aaron gave a relieved sigh. Goodwin, though well meaning, lacked social grace and would only make things more awkward with his ill-placed attempts at humor.
“Sure will.” He tugged at his britches and patted where his gun was strapped to his side in that self-important way of his. “Is there anything else I can get you boys?”
“Not that I can think of. But we’ll sure let you know if there is, all right?” Ben slapped him on the back. “But if you happen to know where Jane is—”
“Denver. She’s returning tomorrow.” The sheriff slid a hand along his belt. “I’ll be the one to break the news to her, because knowin’ Jane…she might just need a big ole’ shoulder to cry on, seein’ as how he was her brother and all.” Goodwin scuffed out the door, his boots tramping over the porch floor.
Once he was gone, Ben returned to where Zach and Aaron were standing, his expression bleak.
“There’s another thing, Aaron.” Zach squared his shoulders.
Wary, Aaron braced himself. “What’s that?”
Zach and Ben exchanged concerned glances. “Well, after you left for the train station, Paul couldn’t stop expressing how grateful he was that you’d made the promise you did.”
“That brought him a lot of comfort, Aaron,” Zach encouraged. “More than you’ll ever know.”
“Well, I’m glad for that.” He swiped a hand over his forehead. “He was in so much pain I would’ve done anything.”
“I know.” Ben clasped Aaron’s shoulder. “And you did because that’s the kind of friend you are. Loyal. True. Caring.”
“Do you remember what that promise was?” Zach prodded.
“I’m not an idiot.” Aaron gave his head an exasperated shake, feeling as though he was being crushed by the weight of his promise. “Of course, I remember what I promised. I said that I’d hold on to hope. But I thought he was referring to faith,” he uttered, trying to keep his voice low. He raked his fingers through his hair. “I thought he was talking about finding peace and hope again after everything with Ellie and the baby. That’s what I thought he meant. He’s been saying things like that for months.”
After several silent moments, Ben puffed out a long breath. “Well, Paul had other ideas.”
Aaron’s eyes grew wide. “Believe me, I realized that just as soon as she introduced herself. Paul wanted me to watch out for her. That’s what he meant.”
“Actually, he meant for you to marry her,” Zach said, easing the words out as though he was spoon-feeding a baby.
Desperation constricted Aaron’s throat. He forced a swallow past the tightness. He could barely breathe. “Marry her?”
“Yep,” Zach answered as if sealing some kind of deal. “Marry Hope and take care of her. Said he couldn’t think of another man he’d rather leave his bride to than you.”
Aaron’s blood ran cold. His entire body shook, yet he couldn’t do a thing to control the vicious trembling. His emotions whipped around in his soul with blizzard force.
The weight of his promise hit him full force. He was a man of his word, loyal to the core. He’d made a promise to a dying friend.
He’d also made a promise to his wife at the altar when they’d married four years ago. How could he possibly honor one vow without dishonoring the other? And how could he possibly enter into something that should be founded on love when he barely knew this woman?
Ben gave his shoulder another squeeze. “I know this is a lot to take in.”
“More than a lot to take in,” he grunted, feeling as desperate as a cornered and injured animal.
“It wouldn’t have been right if we didn’t at least tell you what Paul said.” Zach clasped his other shoulder.
“No, I’m glad you did. It was the right thing to do.” Aaron jammed his hands to his waist and began pacing the floor. He felt helpless to gain some kind of control over the direction his life had suddenly taken. “I’m telling you…I was as sincere as I could be when I made that promise. I just didn’t know.”
Ben cleared his throat. “It’s your decision, Aaron. You have to do what you think is right.”
Peering down the hallway, he stared at the bedroom where his friend lay dead, way too soon, just like Ellie and baby Jeremiah. In Aaron’s greatest time of need, Paul had been a true friend. He’d been there with quiet strength, not barraging Aaron with empty words meant to lift his spirit. He hadn’t ignored Aaron’s loss nor had he ruminated over it endlessly. He’d just let Aaron grieve then gently urged his focus to God.
Paul had been a true friend.
Turning to face his brothers, he finally realized that he had no other option. With his fists clenched and head held high, he looked them in the eye. “I made a promise. I’m going to marry Hope.”
Chapter Three
On a long, slow breath, Hope endeavored to calm the flurry of emotions blowing through her heart. She reached out and touched Paul’s hand, longing for the warmth of life to meet her touch.
He was cold.
She gently pressed her palm against his and entwined her trembling fingers in his, trying to memorize the way his hand, large and callused enough to be strong and protecting, felt in hers. But how could she etch into her remembrance something she’d never truly felt? How could she tuck away the sweet memory of her name on his lips?
She relinquished his hand and closed her eyes, her heart clenching with grief. She should pray, but she didn’t know what to pray for. Help? Comfort?
She had no idea a person could feel such tangible fear, desperation and overwhelming sadness at the same time.
Dabbing at her eyes, she stared at where Paul lay covered in a white sheet and simple blue coverlet—so still and so pale. The distinct metallic scent of blood hung in the air, mixing with the musky scent of perspiration that still beaded his forehead.
Hope didn’t regret seeing him like this, but it wasn’t easy—growing up, she’d been sheltered from such things. Paul had suffered, of that she had no doubt. She couldn’t imagine how he’d survived more than a few minutes, let alone three hours.
But the serene look that lingered on his face had taken her by surprise. Even in the midst of staggering pain, he’d found peace. As strong as Paul’s faith was, she was sure he’d been ready to meet his Maker and had probably accepted his impending death.
Hope just didn’t know if she accepted it.
For months now, she’d longed for the moment their lives would be joined in marriage. She couldn’t understand how God could connect her life with Paul’s and then rip him away before she’d ever known the comfort of his embrace.
She’d left all she’d known to join him here in Boulder. With not a single penny to her name, she had no way of returning to Boston. Aaron and his doctor brother were the only souls she knew in this rough-and-tumble land.
And all she could think about right now was the next few minutes and how she would try to hold herself together in front of them.
Standing, she wrapped poise around her like some warm and comforting quilt, hoping that she had what it would take to walk through this alone. She crossed to the heavy oak paneled door and opened it, willing her wobbly legs not to give out on her as she left the room. She resisted the urge to hug her arms to her chest as her mother had always cautioned her, saying that it appeared weak and unladylike.
Well, if ever there was a time where Hope felt weak, it was now. But being alone, she couldn’t afford to be weak.
She couldn’t afford anything—not even a bowl of soup for her next meal.
The irony of her situation stared her in the face like some fierce predator from the surrounding mountains. She drew her arms to her sides and met the three men’s watchful gazes.
“I’m sorry. We did everything we could to keep him alive.” Ben’s voice was low, tight. “He wanted to hang on long enough to talk with you. But I couldn’t—”
“I wouldn’t have wanted him to suffer any more than he did.” She unfurled her fisted hands, trying to ignore her need for a little consolation. “He must have been in terrible pain.”
The studying glance Aaron cast her way left her feeling as if he’d tried to take a peek inside her soul.
She touched her delicate lace-trimmed neckline, suddenly feeling vulnerable.
“I’m sorry about this, ma’am.” The other brother offered her his hand, and she shook it. “Name’s Zach, by the way.”
She struggled to stay collected at his caring demeanor. “Thank you, Zach.”
“This has to be a shock,” he added.
Nodding, she pulled her mouth tight against the cry that begged for escape. “I’m still trying to make sense of it all. I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do now.”
“We’ll take care of funeral arrangements and Paul’s body.” Aaron swiped a hand over his forehead, glancing over her shoulder to the bedroom. “Don’t worry about that, all right?”
She nodded. “I’m grateful.”
Ben stepped a little closer, his expression crimped with compassion. “Paul really cared for you, ma’am. He wanted to make sure you were well cared for.”
She glanced up at him, confused. Well cared for? Though she didn’t, for a moment, doubt Paul’s desire to take care of her, he couldn’t very well do that from the grave. “I don’t understand.”
On a loud exhale, Ben pulled a hand over his dirt-smudged face. “When Sheriff Goodwin was out here, Paul made arrangements for you to have this farmstead,” he said, gesturing out the windows where fields stretched wide and big fat cows mulled about in the corral. “And also for his bank account in town to be transferred to your name, ma’am.”
Hope swallowed hard, turning her wide-eyed gaze from the windows, where the early evening sun poured through the glass panes, to stare at Ben. Had Paul truly thrown her such an enormous lifeline?
“The farm belongs to you,” Ben measured out as if realizing her shock. “As well as all of Paul’s money.”
She glanced at Zach, who gave her a gentle smile and slight nod as if to verify his brother’s words. But when she slid her attention to Aaron, she almost startled at the fear that contorted his face.
“Are you feeling all right?” she asked before she could stop herself.
“I’m fine.” He dodged her gaze, the muscles at his strong jaw line pulsating.
Ben dipped his head down as if to grab her attention. “I don’t know what the amount is in his account, but knowing Paul, I’m fairly certain there’s at least enough there for you to live comfortably for many years to come.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say a thing,” Zach responded.
“But we hadn’t even married yet.” She fingered the silk brocade fabric of her skirt, feeling uncomfortable and yet next to tears at Paul’s extreme generosity. “And what of his sister? I know that he has a sister living in the area, too, doesn’t he?”
“Jane lives at the edge of Paul’s property in a small home of her own. She’s out of town until tomorrow morning—at least that’s what the sheriff said. He and Mrs. Duncan pretty much know everybody’s business in town,” Zach answered, a knowing grin tipping his mouth. “But I’m sure Jane will support Paul’s decision. She’s nice enough.”
“Yeah, I don’t think you’ll have any problems there,” Aaron confirmed, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Paul was adamant about this, ma’am.” Ben motioned for them to move toward the front room where a fire had been lit in the hearth.
She should feel glad for the warmth and comfort of the crackling flames licking around the logs, but for some reason nothing could take the chill from her soul. The farm…the bank account…Paul had known her circumstance and had seen to her future, without him. But could she start a new life alone?
“He said that he wanted to make sure you’d be taken care of. That was all he could think about in those last minutes he was able to talk.” With a heavy sigh, Ben eased himself down into the wood rocking chair flanking the fireplace.
Zach plopped unceremoniously down into the damask sofa and hooked one arm over the back of it, staring over his shoulder out the window. “This farm is one of the best around.”
“Paul sure loved this land,” Aaron added as he motioned for her to sit down in a simply upholstered chair and then finally sat down next to Zach.
“It’s lovely. Really it is.” She glanced around the spacious home then outside to the fields. She didn’t even know what to compare this farm to. Apart from the flowering plants in the greenhouse her family kept, she’d never even been close enough to touch a crop. “But I must admit…I don’t know the first thing about farming.”
The knowing glances Aaron exchanged with his brothers left Hope wishing she could hear their thoughts.
“Mind you, I’m not completely unfamiliar with how things grow.” With a small amount of relief, she recalled how her family had employed both a gardener and a stable hand full time. And the property wasn’t even close to this size. “I’m certain the farmhands will be an invaluable help with everything were I to have questions.”
Ben cleared his throat. “He’s worked the land himself for five years now.”
She furrowed her brow, certain that she must’ve heard him wrong. “Alone? You mean he had no farmhands?”
Aaron shook his head. “Not Paul. He’d work from sunup to sundown. Alone.”
“But I—I’ve never—” She couldn’t even begin to imagine herself planting seeds or feeding those big black and brown cows or the squawking chickens she’d spotted.
Once, in a letter, she’d told Paul that she’d gladly work beside him on the farm. She’d meant every word. She wanted to love what he loved. But she’d pictured scattering flower seeds or filling a small basket with carrots she’d picked herself. She hadn’t imagined running the place.
“I know this is a lot to think about.” Ben braced his hands on his knees. “Paul did say that if by summer’s end you aren’t happy here that you can sell the place and do with the money what you will.”
She gave her head a distraught shake. “I couldn’t do that to him.”
“Well, Paul seemed to think you might…that you might need some help.” Aaron looked about as taut as a tightly strung bow. “I promised him I’d help, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
With the forced way he’d said those last few words, Hope would’ve guessed that his mother had been standing behind him, twisting his ear.
She absolutely did not want him helping out of some sense of duty. “I’m sure I can manage.”
Aaron gave her an I-don’t-believe-you-for-a-second look. Quite honestly, she didn’t believe herself either. Why in the world would she make such a claim? She could barely saddle a horse, let alone run a farm.
But when she thought of Paul’s tremendous generosity and thoughtfulness, she couldn’t bear the thought of not doing her best to honor his efforts with toiling of her own. “I’ll do my best to make sure his hard work isn’t wasted.”
“I’m sure you mean well, but this farm is a lot to take on. And I promised him I’d help,” Aaron reiterated as though to convince himself. He stood and crossed to the mantel, his well-worn boots scuffing across the polished wood floor. With his back to Hope, she could see the tension bunching his muscles beneath his ecru shirt as he leaned against the mantel. “I also promised him that I’d take care—” he pivoted slow and steady, peering at her as though he faced a firing squad “—take care of you.”
Hope couldn’t move her gaze from him as his words settled over her. For some reason, instead of bringing her comfort, they annoyed her. How could Aaron think that he could take Paul’s place? Or that she needed his help? “Take care of me?”
He glanced at Ben, who gave him the slightest raise of an eyebrow and inclination of his head. Then Aaron slid his focus to Zach, who held out his hands as if to say, “It’s up to you.”
With a cough, Aaron turned his complete attention to Hope, and for some reason she wanted to run all the way back to the train station. He’d been avoiding her gaze since the moment she’d introduced herself, and now that his focus was bearing down so totally upon her, she squirmed under the intensity.
But she had nowhere to go. Apparently she had money now, but she also had a farm to run.
“I—I know this is awkward. It is for me, too, but I…well, it meant something to Paul when I promised to take care of you.”
“What, exactly, do you mean?” She forced herself to stay seated.
She’d never run from difficult circumstances. Ever. When her family lost their fortune, she’d held her head high and found work at a bakery. And when her fiancé began showing signs of regret, she’d quietly bowed out of the relationship—her family hadn’t even known of the real reason the engagement had been called off.
“I promised to hold on to hope.” His voice broke. His throat visibly constricted. “In Paul’s mind that meant that I’d marry you.”
Hope strained to keep her shock from contorting her face, but she was pretty sure that she failed—miserably.
How could he possibly think that she would want a marriage based out of obligation? She’d rather be a spinster for the rest of her life.
Standing, she willed her arms to remain at her sides as she looked him square in the eye. His words pierced her soul, pricking the raw wound that still gaped from Jonas.
She wouldn’t marry Aaron now—even if he dropped to his knees and begged. She barely even knew him. Besides, she could list off ten different reasons why this man had likely never married: his emotionless, unfeeling approach to things of great importance, being first and foremost on her list.
“So, I guess that settles it then.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “How soon do you want the wedding?”
“There isn’t going to be a wedding.”
Her simple, measured answer took Aaron aback. With the fanciful way she’d likely been raised, he thought for sure she’d find relief in the offer and that she’d be glad to have someone take care of her.
“No?” He looked for some kind of hesitation in her gaze.
“No.”
Though his pride was a little stung, the way she stared down her nose at him made him immensely glad she’d just declined his offer. They were as different as night and day. And she was nothing like Ellie.
He wasn’t exactly sure what Paul had seen in the woman, although it could’ve been very easy for her to hide her true colors in letters. She was a highfalutin city slicker. The way she held her head high, he guessed that she probably considered herself above those here in the West.
But she didn’t seem dull. In fact, she struck him as being intelligent, so why would she travel all the way from the East if she knew what she was getting herself into? Had it truly been for love?
She slid a hand down the buttoned front of her waistcoat and then adjusted it as if it was askew. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I believe I’ll go outside for a breath of fresh air.”
Her heeled, brown-booted feet tapped in quiet succession from the room and to the front door where she grabbed her parasol on the way outside.
After she’d made it down the steps, Aaron collapsed onto the sofa next to Zach. He held his head in his hands, willing the incessant pounding that had started suddenly to stop.
“Do you think you could’ve been any more insulting?” Ben’s terse voice reverberated in Aaron’s head. “I mean, really, Aaron. So, I guess that settles it?”
“How soon do you want the wedding?” Zach mocked.
He glared at them. “What was I supposed to say?”
Ben gave his head a sorry shake. “I don’t know, but that definitely wasn’t it.”
“A woman doesn’t want to feel like some obligation,” Zach scolded, slapping his knee.
Narrowing his gaze, Aaron turned to peer at him. “And how would you know? You’re not even married.”
“True. But do you think Ellie would’ve wanted to be proposed to in that manner?”
Aaron pulled a hand over the back of his neck, trying to massage away the pain. He scrambled for some reasonable excuse to support his actions, but no matter what justification he grasped for, it fell apart in his hands. “No. But this is different. It wasn’t a proposal—well, not exactly, anyway. It was more like a business arrangement.”
Zach just stared at him in that way he had that made a man feel small. “Regardless, that sure was a dead-fish way to go about it. Remind me never to ask you for romantic advice.”
Aaron held his hands up. “Believe me. That area of my life has been sealed and shut for good. There is no way I’ll ever love again.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Ben cautioned, raising his brows for a fleeting moment.
Aaron dragged his hand over his scruffy face, thinking for the first time today how disheveled he must look. He hadn’t had time to clean up before racing into town to meet the train—before everything had changed, before life had taken another jolting turn.
“I’ll watch out for her and help her on the farm,” he muttered. “Since she doesn’t want to get married, at least I can do that much.”
“What about your job at the wood shop? Won’t Joseph need you?” Ben queried.
Aaron recalled the orders they had waiting to be filled. “I’ll talk with him. See what we can work out. He’s been getting along so well on his own.”
“That’s good to hear. But he’ll still need you, won’t he?” Ben was protective of Joseph. Since Joseph had lost his sight in a shop accident about a month before Ellie had died, he’d been making great strides, but Ben was always watchful.
“I’m sure he will, but apart from lunch I’ll be working my usual hours.”
“Well, I’ll do what I can to help.” Ben clasped his hands between his legs.
“Me, too, but with calving season here, I’ll be hard-pressed to get away from the ranch much.” Zach stuck his legs out in front of him, draping one foot over the other.
“Speaking of seasons…planting season is breathing down our necks. There won’t be time to try and find a hired man.” Ben peered into the fire as if looking for some answer there. “Besides, Paul said that any man she’d hire had to first go through you.” He pinned Aaron with an intense gaze.
“You can be sure that there’d be men clambering for the job, but I wouldn’t hire someone unless I could trust them up one side and down another.” When he thought about how delicate Hope was, how vulnerable she’d seemed on the depot platform, the need to protect her rose up like some distant call. “In fact, at least for the first week or so I’m sleeping out in the barn. That way if she runs into any problems I’ll be close by. I’m not taking any chances with her being here all by herself. Not when she’s so—”
“Beautiful?” Zach finished for him.
Aaron slanted a challenge-laced glance his brother’s way. “If she’s so beautiful, I’m surprised you’re not stuttering around her.”
“So am I.” Zach’s gaze shuttered as though he was remembering the difficulty he’d had some years ago. At eleven years of age, an embarrassing case of stuttering had set in after he’d been trapped in a cave alone for two days. He hadn’t talked about the incident much and had worked hard the past few years to overcome his stutter. But once in a while he’d have a relapse—especially whenever he was around a pretty woman.
“Frankly, I’m not even sure she’ll consent to hiring someone. She seemed downright determined to get her hands dirty.” Aaron shook his head as he imagined Hope up to her elbows in garden dirt. “I can’t picture her dirtying those perfectly manicured fingers of hers, though. Can you? And did you see the way her skin looks like it’s never seen the light of day? Or the way she walks all straight and tall like some princess?”
His brothers exchanged a goading look that set Aaron’s hackles standing on end.
“Don’t give me that,” he warned, feeling oddly defensive. But he had nothing to defend. Or did he? “I couldn’t help but notice. She stands out like a sore thumb.”
“I wouldn’t exactly say a sore thumb,” Ben corrected.
“Well, she’s not who I would’ve expected Paul to marry, that’s for sure.” Aaron shoved his gaze to the pine floor, downright irritated by their provoking.
“Why? Because she’s such a fine-looking lady?” Zach prodded.
Aaron scowled. “Paul didn’t exactly look like the underside of a plow. I guess I thought he’d marry someone a little heartier. Like himself.”
“She might be heartier than you think.” Ben pointed out the front window. “Look.”
Aaron wrenched around in his seat to see Hope standing in the middle of the herd of cattle, her arms stuck straight up in the air as she shimmied through the livestock. When she suddenly dipped down, disappearing into the mass of beasts as they closed in on her, his heart came to a complete stop.
“Oh, for the love of—” He catapulted off the sofa, through the room and out the front door to rescue her. Already.
As he raced out to the corral, he wondered how in the world he’d be able to keep track of her from his home, two miles away. But as she sprang up with a yellow tabby kitten in her hands then bravely edged toward the gate, gentling the cattle in spite of her obvious discomfort, he wondered if the barn or even two miles away would be far enough.
Chapter Four
“I’m coming, Hope. Whatever you do, don’t make any quick moves,” Aaron warned. He slowed his pace, resisting the urge to throw open the gate since doing so could spook the cattle. His pulse pounded through his veins. The situation could turn disastrous in a mere fraction of a second if she panicked…if he panicked.
She hurled a cursory glance his way and then yanked the hem of her dress, tearing it free from beneath the hoof of a black Hereford bull—a bull, that minutes ago, had been corralled in a solitary confinement of sorts. With an irritated huff, she turned and gave the bull’s wet nose a single swat, eyeing the massive creature as though he’d purposely ruined her garment—her wedding dress.
“What in the world!” Ignoring his own trepidation, Aaron wedged himself between this woman and the cattle that had closed in on her like a giant litter of two-thousand-pound, menacing puppies. She either had a death wish or was completely naive to the unpredictability of ranch cattle—especially that of an aggressive bull. Wrapping his arms around Hope, he couldn’t miss the way her entire body trembled or her indignant look as he steered her through the small opening to safety.
Once he’d latched the sturdy wood gate and gathered one gigantic steadying breath, he turned and clamped a scolding gaze on her and folded his arms at his chest as he attempted to calm his raging pulse. “What were you doing entering the corral like that? You could’ve been injured or worse.”
“This poor little guy…” Hope nuzzled her cheek against the yellow tabby. Her hands quivered as she pulled the bedraggled kitten close. “He was about to get trampled beneath all of those enormous feet. This sweet little kitten’s life could’ve tragically ended right there.”
The kitten gave the smallest, most pitiful meow as it strained to climb higher, right into the crook of Hope’s slender neck.
“Shh. It’s all right,” she whispered, placing a kiss on top of the kitten’s head, its long hair fraying every which way.
“So you not only entered the corral, but you opened the bull’s pen and went in after the kitten?” he prodded, dreading the thought of having to coax the bull back to his own pen.
If Aaron hadn’t been seeing this with his own eyes, he might not have believed she could be so oblivious to the danger she’d put herself in just seconds ago.
“What else was I to do? He wandered in there.”
“You could’ve called for help,” he answered, remembering how enormously afraid Ellie had been of cattle—all cattle. He’d always wanted a milking cow and a few beef cattle, but Ellie had been outright terrified, and he refused to put her through the stress it would’ve caused. “We would’ve been out here in no time.”
“There was not a second to waste.” Her incensed gaze drifted up to Aaron and then shot over to the cattle as though to wound them straight through. “Badly done, cows. Shame on all of you.”
Amazed by her complete naivety, Aaron made no attempt to hide his dismay as he stared, slack-jawed, at Hope.
Her perfectly arched eyebrows furrowed for a brief moment as she took him in. Then she glanced down at her sullied dress and tattered hem. “I can barely believe the nerve of that cow,” she whispered, her words obviously meant for the kitten she cradled like some baby. She glared straight into the eyes of the bull at fault, her audacity making Aaron question whether the sturdy gate could withstand a sudden charge.
The angry puff of breath forced through the Hereford’s flaring nostrils was a sure sign that Hope was treading on shaky ground. “That’s really not a good idea, ma’am.”
“To what are you referring?” She narrowed her gaze on the guilty party again.
“Staring at him that way.” Sidestepping, Aaron made an effort to block her view of the accused.
“But look at him.” She craned her neck to glare at the culprit. “He’s being a bully.”
“They don’t call them bulls for nothing.” Incredulous, he gave his head a slow shake as he closed in on her, grasping her arm firmly enough so that she’d know he meant business and tenderly enough to assure her that he meant no harm. He led her away from the corral, stopping only to grab her parasol from where she’d dropped it.
When he recalled the trace of fright on her face as she’d bravely made her way through the herd with the kitten in her hands and then the sweet and tender way she cradled the scrawny tabby—likely a stray who happened to be searching for a scrap of food in the wrong place—he had his answer. She had no idea.
“We best get you back to the house before that bull decides to rally his friends and break through the gate.”
She gasped. “He wouldn’t dare.”
“This isn’t the cultured streets of Boston, ma’am.”
When a confused and almost fearful look passed over her fair features, he had a hard time getting mad at her. She was a delicate city flower dropped into the West, where only the heartiest took root and grew. And for some reason he felt compelled to make sure she was well protected.
After Aaron had accompanied her to a safe distance from the anxious herd, he brought her to a halt. “Listen, I know you’ve been in Boulder less than two hours and that your world has been turned on end, but if you’re going to stay here then there are some things you should know.”
There were plenty of risks she should know about, and if she was going to survive the next twenty-four hours on Paul’s farm, and if Aaron was to have peace, he’d have to set her straight. But even then he was sure that serenity would elude him, just like the river bass always dodged his fishhook.
But when he looked into those emerald eyes of hers, he suddenly had a hard time remembering those precautions that had seemed so imperative only seconds ago.
“Yes.” Her voice eased him from his silent perusal.
Jamming the toe of a boot into the dusty soil and kicking up a cloud of dirt, he struggled to clear his mind.
“What is it that you wanted to tell me?” She raised her chin a notch then glanced over to the herd of agitated cattle mulling about at the fence line.
Aaron cleared his throat. He gently grasped her chin and turned her head to look her in the eye. “First of all, never, and I mean never, stare into the eyes of a bull.”
“But I—”
“Never,” he interrupted, with more severity than he’d intended given the way she shuddered. But as the image of Hope getting trampled dashed through his mind, fierce protectiveness for her rose up strong and sure—and completely unbidden. “Do you understand me?”
After a long moment, she gave a single, conceding nod.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, desperate to wipe away the tingling sensation coursing through his fingers from holding her chin. “They take that sort of thing as a challenge. As unfair and rude as you think that fella was being to your little friend there—” he nodded toward the purring kitten “—or stepping on your dress the way—”
“My dress is simply an irritation. Nothing more.” She cuddled the kitten in the crook of her slender neck. “It’s this helpless one who gave me such a fright.”
“Lady, you gave me a fright,” Aaron choked out. He set a hand to his chest. “My heart nearly pounded right out of my rib cage. In fact, it’s still pumping like there’s no tomorrow,” he ground out, the admission carelessly spilling from his mouth without warning. It wasn’t as if he was fond of her. But he did feel obligated—no, honor-bound, he corrected himself, remembering Zach’s scolding—to watch after her. “If that bull decided to take you on,” he added, perusing her slight, feminine form, “all five-foot-two of you wouldn’t have a fighting chance.”
Just then he glanced over to find Ben and Zach standing at the window, their arms draped in a lazy fashion at their chests and irritatingly innocent grins plastered across their faces. They peered with shameless mirth through the crystal clear window as though watching some theater production. They’d done nothing to help him out here. They appeared to enjoy the fact that he’d pledged himself to this woman’s safekeeping.
He had to wonder…did he have a fighting chance?
The sun’s first light bathed the spare bedroom at the back of Paul’s home in a soft, rosy glow. At any other time the effect would’ve been soothing, but Hope didn’t feel any more at peace than she had eight hours ago. She’d lain awake all night long, thinking, praying and trying not to be angry.
She was angry at Paul for leaving her so soon.
She was angry at God for taking him.
She was angry at Aaron for being so unkind and severe.
Restless, she pulled in a deep breath, bracing herself to face the unknowns that today would bring—meeting Paul’s sister, going to the funeral, tending to duties on the farm…her farm.
Did she belong here?
After the way Aaron had scolded her about the whole cow fiasco, as if she were a small child, she had to wonder. And knowing what a contrast this kind of life was to her privileged upbringing she questioned even more. But she had no choice. Paul had been kind and loving enough to ensure her well-being. Even though he’d given her a way out at summer’s end, she couldn’t let him down.
Moreover, she couldn’t let herself down by giving up.
Reaching for where the kitten slept beside her under the covers, she stroked the tabby’s downy-soft fur. Theodore was what she’d named him, although she often called him sweetie. With all of his fluff of orange fur and his perfect little face, she couldn’t bear letting him fend for himself when he’d almost died right in front of her eyes. Besides, she’d never had a kitten of her own. It was nice having something to hold when it seemed she was so alone.
Last night after Aaron and his brothers had left her to herself, she’d brought Theodore inside. Hope’s mother could never stomach animals, inside or otherwise, but Hope had never understood the reasoning. And Aaron, as nervous as he was acting yesterday, would probably tell her that this innocent little kitten was liable to scratch her eyes out.
Aaron had seemed pretty intent on doling out a list of don’ts—almost as if he didn’t trust her to walk five feet without making some kind of grave or dangerous mistake.
She’d make mistakes, of that she was certain. But surely he was being a bit overbearing. Take the cows, for instance. They’d seemed perfectly fine to her. Certainly she wouldn’t have ventured into their midst had it not been for Theodore nearly being trampled, but really they’d seemed gentle enough. Even that lonely cow in his own pen had seemed sad when he’d received her scolding swat on the nose. Why, she was almost sure she’d heard him sniffling.
She’d just have to get to know the farm and the animals as quickly as possible so that she didn’t feel so out of sorts.
When a long all-encompassing yawn commanded Hope’s attention, she realized that she’d not gotten more than an hour of sleep combined. But even so, she had to get up and face the day.
When she felt Theodore nestle in closer against her legs, she lifted the covers and peeked at her kitten. The adoring way he squeezed his eyes shut and purred brought a smile to her face. She wasn’t alone. She had this sweet one. And Paul had once written that God was always there in the best and worst of times—that He was an ever-present help in times of trouble.
Picturing Paul’s broken body, she had to wonder if God had been a help for Paul when he’d been pinned beneath the tree. She’d counted on Paul showing her the way in her newfound faith. Would her miniscule understanding of God be enough to find what had been so real to Paul?
Maybe Paul’s sister would be a help. If she was anything like her brother—kind, understanding, tenderhearted—then Hope would have nothing to worry about. She’d be all right. She had to believe that from here on out there would be an endless swath of blue skies.
Jane was nothing like Paul.
In fact, Hope would’ve vowed the woman was some imposter, if not for the way Aaron and his family and the townspeople crowded around her now. They’d all gathered for Paul’s funeral beneath one of the large pines anchoring the small cemetery. And now they offered their condolences as the lanky undertaker dropped shovelfuls of reddish dirt, reminiscent of his mat of red hair, over the simple pine box.
Hope struggled to steady her hand as she dabbed at her eyes and grappled for composure. Closing her eyes, she listened to the last bit of musky earth being thrown over Paul’s grave and then the shovel’s dull clang as the undertaker struck the soil to pack it down—as if to seal Paul’s fate.
When she opened her eyes to see the gangly man yield one final clanging blow to the earth, she wished she would wake up from this horrible nightmare…to open her eyes and find herself standing at the church altar, at the very cusp of a brand-new life with Paul.
She grieved the man she knew from his letters. She grieved the life they could have had. But seeing the way each person in attendance was wrought with such deep sorrow, she realized that she grieved never really knowing Paul.
These people…they’d known him. They’d seen how he walked and how he rode a horse. They’d heard his voice, his laugh. They’d felt his touch.
She was an outsider.
There was no mistaking that Jane was incensed by Hope’s presence and clearly thought she was an intruder. From the outset this morning when Jane had arrived home, she’d been cold and frosty whenever she was alone with Hope. She’d made no bones about her displeasure with Paul’s deathbed decisions. Jane had seemed equally incensed by Aaron’s assurance that he would watch out for Hope. She’d even said as much.
Witnessing the way the woman’s shoulders heaved on a loud sob, Hope’s heart swelled with compassion. After all, Jane had lost her brother, suddenly and tragically.
When she felt a gentle touch at her elbow, she looked to find Aaron standing at her side.
“I’ll see you and Jane home now—that is, if you’re ready.” His voice was low, and his blue eyes were moist and undeniably sad—a sadness that seemed to be almost permanently etched into his roguish features.
“That’ll be fine. Thank you.”
When he gestured for her to walk with him down the footpath, she turned and stared at where Paul had been laid to rest beneath the newly turned earth. “Will you give me just one more moment, please?” She glanced back at Aaron.
When he nodded and walked away, she approached the grave and stood there for a long moment. She’d had no problem dreaming of what life would be like with Paul when she was back in Boston, but the harder she tried to generate some kind of image of herself with him now, the further removed she felt. She couldn’t seem to see anything other than the glaring fact that she barely knew him.
“He was a real nice feller, wasn’t he?” The undertaker stood beside her, wedging his shovel into the earth and barely missing her foot.
“Yes, he was.” She tucked her right foot next to her left one, resisting the urge to turn and see just how far away Aaron had gone. “A fine man.”
Pulling one overly large floppy glove off, the long-limbed man reached out to shake her hand. His razorlike Adam’s apple bobbed so severely she thought it likely to cut straight through his throat. “Name’s Pete. Pete O’Leary.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. O’Leary.” She shook his hand, struggling to school her expression against the way his sweaty palm clamped against hers.
“If’n you ever need anything. You jest give me a holler.”
She smiled, though not enough so as to encourage the man in any way. “Thank you for your kindness, but I’m sure I’ll be just fine.”
“I heard that he went and left his farm to you. And that you was to be married. Is that the truth?” he inquired with as much candidness as Hope imagined possible.
Just then a weasellike animal poked its head out from a pack strapped to the man’s back. “All right, Conroy. You seen the perty lady. Now you get yerself back in there, ya hear?” Mr. O’Leary reached over his shoulder and gave the animal’s head a gentle pat. “Conroy’s my ferret. Bought him off’un a travelin’ salesman.”
“He’s a fine-looking ferret,” she commented as the adorable animal wiggled his long-whiskered nose at her and then dived into the sturdy denim pack.
“He goes with me most places—cept’n fer church. Though, Lord knows that bein’ there’d do his thievin’ soul some good.” Mr. O’Leary leaned a gangly arm on the shovel handle and sighed as the ferret rebelliously popped up again, perching his front paws on the man’s rail-thin shoulder. “The critter can’t seem to keep his dishonest paws from takin’ that which ain’t his.”
The earnest show of the man’s distress and the delightful look of innocence on the ferret’s whiskered face coaxed a smile from Hope. She was grateful for the diversion so that she didn’t have to field the man’s inquiries. “With a face like that, how could he possibly mean to be ill-behaved?”
“That’s what I been tellin’ myself, but after a while a body’s gotta wonder.” He shrugged out of the pack and folded his legs beneath him, then tucked the long, lean ferret back inside. “This is not social hour at the opera house.” Jane’s terse voice sounded at Hope’s ear.
Hope turned just in time to see Jane’s cutting glare swing from her to the undertaker then back again, but she refused to cower in response.
“Stop your fraternizing and come along. Can’t you see that we’re waiting for you?” Pivoting, the woman stalked down the trail toward the wagons, not even bothering to give Mr. O’Leary an appreciative look for his labor and not thinking enough to pass one last look at her brother’s grave.
“Thank you for your hard work, Mr. O’Leary.” Hope peered up at the man, deciding that although he was a little rough around the edges he seemed harmless enough.
“Glad to do it.” He looped his arms into his pack and tugged his shovel out of the dirt. “It’s my job.”
Turning, Hope made her way down the trail. She caught Aaron’s gaze fixed on her as if he’d been watching for a long while. Had he sent Jane up to get her? He’d seemed completely oblivious to the woman’s spiteful ways.
When she’d almost reached the cluster of mourners, Aaron came to meet her and guided her toward his wagon. My family, as well as a few others, will be coming over in a little while with plenty of fixings for a meal. I hope you don’t mind the lot of us barging in on you, but this is how we do it here in Boulder.”
“That’s perfectly fine.” She managed a dim smile as she maneuvered through the tall grass. “As soon as we get there, I’ll do what I can to get things prepared.”
He shook his head. “You won’t be doing anything, Hope. That’s what the others will be there for.” He came to a stop and stared down at her as if to enforce his point.
“Until the past twenty hours, these people had no idea that I existed. To be counted among family now,” she reasoned, thinking about how Jane clearly viewed her as an outsider, “is a bit uncomfortable.” And to have Aaron telling her what to do settled over her with equal unpleasantness. Besides, she would rather busy herself than to field the questions she was sure would come her way—just like with Mr. O’Leary.
How did you and Paul meet? How long had you corresponded? When were you to wed? And most inevitably, why had Paul not told us about you?
“Paul obviously didn’t view you as an outsider,” Aaron argued.
“Please. It’s not that I don’t appreciate your consideration—” she tugged on the strong thread of gracious manners that had been woven into her from the time she was young “—but I would feel better if I could be helping.”
For a long moment, Aaron peered down at her as though taking her full measure. Yesterday she’d refused his apathetic proposal of marriage. Honorable, though it may be, seeing as how this man considered it his job to make decisions for her, declining his hand was a very wise decision—just like breaking off her engagement with Jonas had been.
“Aaron,” Ben called, motioning him to the other side of the grassy knoll, “Jane’s going to need your help here.”
Hope followed in Aaron’s wake, lifting the skirts of her cobalt-blue dress as she picked her way around the tender spring flowers that had poked through the soil. She hadn’t dreamed she’d need traditional mourning attire upon her arrival, and her lack of it only seemed to irritate Jane further. Paul’s sister had scanned her up and down not once but several times today, as though to make some silent barbed statement.
“She says she’s feeling pretty weak,” Ben commented, his voice low and measured. When he slid a cautious gaze to Hope, she couldn’t miss the hint of apology there.
“Oh, I am, Aaron. Very weak. I’m so glad you’re here.” Jane’s breathy whisper filtered to Hope. The woman threw herself into Aaron’s arms—almost.
When he sidestepped to gain his balance, Hope stifled a gasp. But she could hardly fault the woman for being given to exceptional outbursts of emotion after suffering such shock.
“You are a great strength to me. I’m sure that Paul would offer his gratitude if he was—” Jane’s eyes suddenly pooled with fresh tears. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Aaron. Honestly, you are meant for me.”
He passed a disconcerted glance to Ben, his throat convulsing as though he’d just swallowed a small horse. He stared down at where Jane had circled her arms around his chest and burrowed her cheek into his dark gray vest. “Well, I, uh…I’m glad to help.”
“Thank you,” Jane whispered, one side of her thin lips lifting in what looked to Hope like a triumphant grin.
Clearing his throat, Aaron pried her arms loose and took one sizable step away from her. “Don’t you think we should probably go since the others will be coming soon?”
“Yes, of course. You’re right, as always, Aaron.” The way Jane latched onto Aaron and led the way, Hope half wondered if she was making a silent claim. The icy look she sent Hope could’ve frozen one of the yellow spring blooms dotting the grassy knoll within seconds and furthered her suspicion.
“We’ll be right behind you to help with the meal, Hope. Don’t you worry about a thing,” Ben’s wife, Callie, called as she took her husband’s hand and climbed into their wagon.
Hope waved and trailed behind Jane and Aaron, watching as Jane nearly sprinted the last few feet to claim a seat at the front of the wagon, not even bothering to wait for assistance.
“You’ll have to sit in the back again, Hope. There’s just not room up here. You won’t mind, will you?” She gave Hope a sickeningly sweet look, her face all pinched in apology as she took great care spreading out her skirts as though decorating an elaborate layered cake.
Hope struggled to prevent her disbelief from making its way to an all-out expression. “Of course, I don’t mind.”
With a firm but gentle touch, Aaron easily lifted her into the wagon and then took his own seat next to Jane. When Jane clasped a possessive hand over Aaron’s muscular arm, Hope determined that Paul’s sister was definitely marking her territory. As far as Hope was concerned, Jane could have the man. But being a woman of principle, the fact that Jane was being so nasty about the whole thing just didn’t sit right.
Once Aaron had the wagon headed down the road, he glanced at her with a concern-filled look. “Are you sure you don’t mind all of us coming to your house for a gather—”
“Paul’s house,” Jane corrected darting her attention to Aaron then back at Hope. “It’s Paul’s house.”
Hope determined to find some common ground on which to stand with Jane if this day was going to be anything more than horrible. “I’m sure that Paul would’ve wanted it that way.”
Jane twisted in her seat. “Excuse me for saying so, but honestly, how would you know what Paul would’ve wanted?” She narrowed her hazel-eyed gaze and pursed her thin lips, making them nearly disappear. “You never even met him.”
“I—I just thought that Paul, being as kind-hearted and giving as he was—”
“Yes he was, wasn’t he? So generous that he gave you his estate.”
“Jane,” Aaron admonished.
“It’s all right, Aaron,” Hope placated. “She’s had a very difficult day.”
Jane’s shrewd expression suddenly turned sorrowful just like that. “Oh, I’m just so beside myself with grief. My dear, dear brother Paul…dead,” she sobbed, hugging her arms to her chest and dabbing at her eyes.
Surely, this woman couldn’t be so shallow as to exercise such pettiness—especially at a time like this. Hope would love to give her the benefit of the doubt, but she’d deny her own intelligence in doing so. Instead, Hope reminded herself that she was irrevocably connected to this woman, and although she couldn’t help feeling incredulous at Jane’s flagrant show of melodramatics, she must be as gracious as humanly possible.
Aaron gave Jane’s arm a brief squeeze, bringing a peculiar stop to the lamenting. “Why don’t you decide where you think we should have the gathering? How does that sound?”
Jane sniffled. Dabbed at her eyes. Hiccupped. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
After several moments of silence, the woman sniffled once again as if for good measure. She stared up at Aaron, her shapeless loglike eyebrows bunched inward. “I know my brother better than anyone. Why don’t we all gather at Paul’s home?” she announced, as though the idea was brand new. “I’m sure he would have wanted it that way.”
Hope nearly bit clear through her tongue. She couldn’t imagine how a woman could be so petty—especially at a time like this. Determined to stay strong, she silently conceded that Paul’s sister would be no help at all. Hope was in this alone.
Chapter Five
Aaron watched from the front room as Hope made her way to the small spare bedroom to put her shawl away. His throat grew tight as she passed by Paul’s bedroom, pausing momentarily and peering inside, her slender hand curled around the etched metal doorknob. She quietly closed the door and entered the room across the hallway.
She’d been stalwart all day long, from the time he’d dragged himself from the hayloft early this morning to take care of the chores until now, when at least two dozen people she didn’t even know were set to arrive. And she’d been so patient with Jane.
It’d taken Aaron by surprise, the downright rude way Jane responded to Hope about the gathering on the ride here. Paul had mentioned that Jane could be testy, but Aaron had never seen that side of her.
Ever since his wife and baby’s death, Jane had been the picture of neighborly support. She’d shown up at least once a week at the wood shop, a basket laden with baked goods hanging from her arm. She’d even brought a noontime meal by on several occasions. Aaron had been grateful for the offerings, but he’d never seen them as anything more than kindly gestures.
Now he wasn’t so sure—especially with the way Jane had taken to clinging to him like mud to a pig.
Hope had held her own with Jane. Oddly enough, that had struck a chord of satisfaction and pride in his heart, but still he felt compelled to watch over the situation. He’d dropped Jane off at her house on the edge of Paul’s property, hoping that a little rest before the meal was served would remove the woman’s sharp edge. Although Hope had smoothed over Jane’s rudeness today with understanding—a surprising trait, given her fancy ways and attire—he hadn’t missed the way embarrassment had colored Hope’s fair cheeks when Jane had glared at her earlier today as she’d climbed aboard the buckboard in her bright blue dress.
As far as Aaron was concerned, it shouldn’t matter a lick what color a person wore to a funeral. And frankly he didn’t think God much cared, either. What mattered most in Aaron’s book was honoring life. Paul’s life had been honored today—that was certain. It was honored by his friends and neighbors who’d recalled his kindness and acts of mercy and also by this woman he’d been set to wed. She’d honored him in the quiet strength she’d shown in the face of a difficult set of circumstances, in the gracious way she’d answered questions from some of the townsfolk earlier and in the patient way she’d endured Jane’s near-tantrum this morning when Aaron and Ben had informed Jane of Paul’s deathbed decisions.
But life had only just begun for Hope here. There was plenty to be done, and the complete naivety she’d shown around Paul’s cattle was proof enough that she didn’t have the first idea about farm life. Aaron couldn’t imagine her continuing on with such poise and courage when faced with milking the cows or digging her hands into the soil.
He’d help her out and keep an eye on the situation with Jane because he’d promised and because it was the right thing to do. But he’d do so with as minimal contact with Hope as possible because for some reason he couldn’t keep his thoughts from straying straight to her.
Last night when he’d finally nestled into the hayloft to sleep he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about the way Hope had saved that barn kitten from sure death, the way she’d kept her calm, the way she’d said, “Excuse me,” to the cattle as she made her way through their midst and the way she’d met Aaron’s concern with such innocence and determination in her gaze.
“Well, where is she?” Katie, his brother Joseph’s wife, asked, intruding on Aaron’s thoughts. Thankfully.
“Who?” He hadn’t even heard Katie and Joseph enter the house.
“Hope. That’s who. I met her at the funeral. She’s a dear.” Katie peered at him as though he’d spoken some foreign language. “Is she all right?”
Concern for her rose within him just as fast as a rainstorm in the mountains. “What do you—”
“There you are.” Katie crossed to meet Hope as she entered the room and set a stack of dishes down on the table. “How are you doing after everything?”
“I’m fine.” The faint smile on Hope’s face was far from convincing and strummed another unexpected chord of compassion in Aaron’s heart. “I was just freshening up.” He gave her a quick once-over. She hadn’t looked disheveled when they’d arrived home. In fact, she still looked picture perfect.
It was the exact opposite of the windblown, no-fuss, natural way Ellie had always been.
“I thought that perhaps we could use some of the dishes I brought from home for the gathering today,” she said as she glanced back at the fine china. “I just unpacked them.”
Was Hope putting on airs? Was she intent on impressing the lot of folks here with her obvious trappings of wealth? Folks here weren’t so easily awed. Oh, maybe some of the ladies would fawn over the flourish of it all, but most folks put more stock in hard work, endurance and good living.
Katie strode right past surface pleasantries and encircled Hope in a hug. The rigid way Hope had held her shoulders back and head high all day seemed to lessen some, and for that Aaron was thankful. “I think the dishes will be a lovely touch to the gathering, Hope. Thank you for offering them.”
As much as he was uncomfortable with this whole situation, he couldn’t bear seeing her try so hard to be strong. He was worn out just watching her and was intent on making sure she rested throughout the gathering.
“Hope, I want you to meet my husband, Joseph.” Katie glanced over her shoulder at Joseph.
“I’m sorry about your loss, ma’am. Please accept my condolences.” He stepped closer and held his hand out to Hope. “Paul was a good man. He’ll be missed.”
Hope hesitated for a moment then took his hand as though suddenly aware that Joseph was unable to see. “Thank you. It does come as quite a shock.”
Joseph had been without his sight for almost a year now. Aaron had encouraged him that he’d done a remarkable job adapting, but Joseph would funnel all of the credit to his wife, who’d initially come to Boulder as his teacher.
“I want to assure you that I’ll do without that brother of mine as much as I can so that he can be here with you.” Joseph gently draped his arm over his wife’s shoulders, the clear look of self-satisfaction pricking Aaron’s ire.
Be here with her?
Why would he say that? Sure as shootin’, he could’ve come up with something else to say. Aaron could only hope that Joseph felt the annoyance he was aiming in his direction.
“Oh, it won’t be necessary for him to miss work.” Hope’s brow furrowed slightly. “I’m sure I’ll be able to manage. I already informed Aaron as much.”
Katie sidled up next to Hope. “Don’t look a gifted horse in the mouth, my dear.”
“That’s a gift horse.” Joseph chuckled.
“The horse could be gifted, too, I suppose,” Aaron added watching as Joseph pulled his wife close and gave her a hug.
“You two…” Katie melted into her husband’s embrace. “You knew what I meant.”
Aaron was glad for Joseph’s happiness, but whenever he witnessed the love that Joseph and Katie shared, his own loss seemed to grow deeper and stronger, like a stubborn root. Time hadn’t healed his heart, as some well-meaning folks had assured him. Instead it had exaggerated the pain. Someday, maybe, he wouldn’t be plagued with the familiar ache, but never again would he love.
The idea that he’d almost entered into marriage yesterday made his heart lurch to a grinding halt. What had he been thinking?
He’d been thinking like a Drake, that’s what. Honor your word. Let loyalty and right-living be your trademark.
He could be grateful until his dying day that Hope had been good enough to turn him down.
“As I was saying,” Katie began again, “Aaron will be a great help. Besides, Joseph has been talking about hiring on another craftsman.”
“What kind of gossip am I missing out on?” Zach edged into the gathering, standing beside Aaron as he slid Katie a playful wink.
“Don’t you go winking at my wife, Zach,” Joseph warned. “Do you hear?”
Zach waggled his eyebrows at the lot of them. “And how would you know I did that?”
“Because that’s what you always do. You’re predictable,” Joseph added with a grin.
Zach grabbed at his chest, winking at Hope this time. “You wound me, Joseph. Predictable? No man wants to be thought of as predictable.”
“We know you up one side and down another.” Joseph chuckled. “Face it. You’ve got the cowboy nod and wink down to a science. You could teach a class on it at Boulder College—that is, if they offered such things.”
“Ben, Joseph and Aaron like to accuse Zach of being the quintessential ladies’ man,” Katie explained to Hope.
She turned an amused expression on Zach and studied him for a long moment. “Perhaps they underestimate you?” The warmth of her smile made the air suddenly seem unbearably stuffy.
Aaron pulled at his collar. If there was one thing he didn’t want to do, it was give his brothers any kind of weakness to pounce on. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them, but with the way they’d acted yesterday about Hope, he couldn’t help but feel like they were pushing for something that could never be—plain and simple.
“Now there’s a smart woman,” Zach proclaimed, sweeping his Stetson from his head and making a grand bow toward Hope. “I’m barely acquainted with her and already she knows me better than my own flesh and blood.”
On a sigh, Aaron gave his head a shake. “My family. I can always count on them to be welcoming to strangers and to make awkward situations more comfortable.”
Like now. Hope had to be overwhelmed by everything she’d gone through the past day. He doubted she was eager to have a houseful of strangers, but at least his family would be here to buffer the discomfort of it all.
And there was Jane to consider. She would need support.
Besides, he and his brothers had all agreed that, though they’d like to put it off for another time, they’d have to talk with Hope at some point today about the farm—how she wanted to handle things, what kind of chore schedule they could work out and if she was considering hiring a farmhand.
If that was the case then no man would work for her unless he passed to Aaron’s satisfaction. Even then he would insist on closely guarding the situation. A woman like Hope—beautiful, helpless and alone—would be a dark-minded man’s dream.
“I just figure if I keep my contact with the ladies to a harmless wink here or there then I don’t have to worry about stuttering.” Zach jammed his hat back on his head. “Although, thank the good Lord I hardly ever have a problem with it anymore.”
“Are we missing out on something?” Ben asked as he closed the door behind his family, Callie—his wife of six months—and her seven-year-old daughter, Libby.
“Uncle Aaron, Uncle Aaron,” Libby squealed as she ran the short distance and jumped into Aaron’s arms.
“Well, hello there, Libby-Loo.” He gave her a big hug.
Callie had shown up on Ben’s doorstep last October, wanting a job. Little did they all know that this stranger was their brother Max’s widow. Having endured seven years of abuse and suffering at Max’s hands, Callie had sought Ben out, per Max’s dying words, as a last resort. Aaron gulped past the lump that always formed in his throat whenever he thought of the situation and how she’d been reunited with her daughter from Max after he’d used the child, a newborn at the time, to pay off a gambling debt. He’d lied to Callie, saying that the baby had died just as Callie had passed out with the final birthing push. God had definitely redeemed many a heartache.
“I been missing you, Uncle Aaron.” Libby wrapped him up in a gigantic hug then pulled away and held his face between her small hands. “You have to come see the new kitty Papa brought home. She’s real pretty.”
“Really? A new kitty, huh?” Aaron glanced at Hope, thinking about the helpless yellow tabby she’d rescued.
With the way Hope was gazing at him, her eyes full and bright and laden with enchantment, he couldn’t seem to look away. He didn’t know what was getting into him. Why did he seem so captivated by her?
“Uncle Aaron, did you hear me?” Libby tugged his head to square his focus with hers. “I said the kitty is all white. Like a bride. Like Mama was when she married Papa.”
“Oh, how sweet,” Hope whispered.
Libby twisted in Aaron’s arms and peered at Hope, as if noticing her for the first time. She wiggled out of his hold and went to stand in front of Hope. “You’re a pretty lady.”
Hope’s cheeks suddenly flushed to pink as she clasped her slender hands together in front of her. “Why, thank you. Might I say that you are a very pretty girl.”
A sweet smile spread across Libby’s face as she studied Hope. “I like your blue dress. Mama said that Miss Jane thought your dress was too blue, but I—”
“Libby.” Bending over, Callie whispered something in the girl’s ear.
Libby tucked her chin a notch. “Well, I think it’s very pretty. Don’t you, Uncle Aaron?” She peered up at him.
Heat instantly infused his cheeks. He brushed his hand down his arm, dusting imaginary dirt from his sleeve.
“Uncle Aaron, you’re not listening to me.” Libby furrowed her brow in that adorable way of hers that always tugged at Aaron’s heartstrings.
“Yes, the dress is very nice. Beautiful.” He set his gaze just over Hope’s shoulder, but even out of the corner of his vision he caught a whisper of vulnerability cross her face.
If he looked at her now, straight in the eyes, she might be able to see the way his soul had suddenly begun churning with the smallest bit of tenderness, attraction.
He was being ridiculous. He was as silly as a smitten schoolboy. He’d been widowed for ten months. He’d not spared any woman a single glance. So why would he now? Aaron struggled to pull himself together as he wondered what had gotten into him.
“You have a lovely dress, too. Pink is such a charming color—just like you.” Hope nodded at Libby with a fair amount of fancy manners. Which probably went far with Libby seeing as how the girl considered herself an expert in ladylike ways.
The way Libby perched her hands in front of her in the same manner as Hope provoked a few light chuckles from his family.
“My name’s Libby.” She reached out and fingered Hope’s satin dress. “What’s your name?”
She knelt and met Libby, eye to eye. “Hope.”
Hope. Aaron’s promise once again unfurled in his mind like a heralding banner. He’d like to just roll it up and stuff it away, but try as he might, he couldn’t seem to catch the thing and bring it back.
“I like your name. Hope. Mama and Papa say that we should always have hope.” She turned and looked at Ben and Callie, her earnest expression melting Aaron’s heart. “Don’t you?”
“Yes, we do,” Ben answered on a wink. He pulled a hand over his mouth as though to wipe off a grin. “We’re all for hope.”
Aaron couldn’t feel any more cornered than he did right now. Ben, Zach, Joseph, Callie and Katie.…
At least sweet little Libby hadn’t forsaken him.
Just then Libby peered back at Hope, reached out and took her hand. “So I guess that means you’re gonna be part of our family.”
Hope yawned as long and wide as she imagined humanly possible. Five o’clock in the morning was far earlier than she was accustomed to rising, but after Aaron and his brothers had set her down yesterday and noted the numerous chores and details of the farm for her, she was quite certain that this ghastly hour wouldn’t be nearly early enough.
All night long she’d been deliberating the enormous changes in her life and had just nodded off when a loud cackling call from outside her window had pierced her slumber. Once again, she peered out the bedroom window, watching as the large chestnut-colored rooster strutted as pretty as you please, right underneath her opened window. With one eye aimed her way, he stared up at her as if to get a glimpse of the newcomer.
She tugged her long white opera gloves on as far as they would go, adjusted her pale green silk dress, then drew her shawl around her shoulders and walked out to the barn. Her warm breath fanned out in a ghostlike cloud into early morning, the hint of purple, pink and orange hanging on the horizon, heralding the day. When she opened the barn door, an earthy, not exactly unpleasant, scent met her square in the face. Holding a lantern before her, she stepped inside, the dim light lapping up the darkness in warm, gentle waves.
The crude dwelling closed her in but not so that she felt unsafe. Holding the lantern high, she looked the barn over, noticing the sturdiness and how solid and thick the beams were that endured the weight.
Just then a shifting sound came from somewhere up ahead. Then it came again followed by a low groan.
She froze on the spot and slid her gaze to the left where the noise originated. When another low groan met her, she nearly dropped the lantern.
Her heart pounded hard and fast inside her chest as she scanned the dwelling. She held her breath, images of a mountain lion leaping from the shadows and pouncing on her flashing through her mind. The hair on her neck stood on end. With needlelike claws, fear pierced deep, delving into her peace, her mind, her composure.
The noise came again followed by a distinctive mooing sound.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Hope sighed in the most unladylike way she’d ever permitted herself. “It’s only a cow.”
She was being silly. Aaron had cautioned her on many issues, but milking the cow had not been counted among them. There was nothing to fear. Right?
In truth, she could find trepidation in nearly every place she looked. But if she let fear guide her thoughts, she might not have the fortitude to manage on her own. Growing up in a wealthy Boston family, she’d never been exposed to farm animals except for the horses that had pulled their carriages to and fro. She’d often begged for a cat or a dog to love, but her mother had refused, noting that animals belonged in the country.
Willing one foot in front of the other, she followed a generously large, dirt-packed corridor to a stall where a fat brown cow stood, its tail swishing from side to side as it chewed on something. It peered over at her, its big brown eyes looking no more malicious than its thin, long tail looked like a weapon.
“Now, then, aren’t you a fine-looking cow?” She willed her pulse to even out.
Nonplussed by her greeting, the creature continued chewing in a slow and lazy way.
She opened the latch to the wood-plank half door and squeezed inside, quickly closing it behind her. Although this four-legged being seemed docile enough, Hope couldn’t be sure that, given the opportunity, it might not escape. And she definitely didn’t fancy the idea of chasing it about the farm yard.
“You must be the cow I’m going to milk this morning.”
The beast sighed, its warm breath hanging like a peaceful mist in the crude stable. Aaron had cautioned her never to stare into the eyes of a bull, but he’d obviously never met this cow.
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Pamela Nissen
“I promised Paul that I’d take care—” Aaron pivoted slow and steady, peering at her as though he faced a firing squad “—take care of you.”
Hope couldn’t move her gaze from his as his words settled over her. For some reason, instead of bringing her comfort, they annoyed her. How could Aaron think that he could take Paul’s place? Or that she needed his help?
“Take care of me?”
“I—I know this is awkward. It is for me, too, but I…well, it meant something to Paul when I promised to take care of you,” Aaron said. “I promised to hold on to Hope.” His voice broke. “In Paul’s mind, that meant that I’d marry you.”
Hope strained to keep her shock from contorting her face, but she was pretty sure that she failed—miserably.
How could he possibly think that she would want a marriage based on obligation? She’d rather be a spinster for the rest of her life….
PAMELA NISSEN
loves creating. Whether it’s characters, cooking, scrapbooking or other artistic endeavors, she takes pleasure in putting things together for others to enjoy. She started writing her first book in 2000 and since then hasn’t looked back. Pamela lives in the woods in Iowa with her husband, daughter, two sons, a Newfoundland dog and cats. She loves watching her children pursue their dreams, and is known to yell on the sidelines at her boys’ games and being moved to tears as she watches her daughter perform. She enjoys scrapbooking weekends with her sister, coffee with friends and running in the rain. Having glimpsed the dark and light of life, she is passionate about writing “real” people with “real” issues and “real” responses.
Rocky Mountain Proposal
Pamela Nissen
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Love never ends. As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away.
—1 Corinthians 13:8
For Bill, my beloved
Your heart… Reaching wide as summer’s yawning horizon Glistening pure as winter’s white snow Standing steady as an oak tree come storm time Burning alive as autumn’s vibrant glow
Acknowledgments
Thank you to Steve and Gladys: your quaint farm and animals reside in the pages of this book. To my dear friends and family: thank you for your love and support. To Tina, Melissa and the Love Inspired family: thank you for being such a great team with which to work. To my critique partners, Diane, Jacquie and Roxanne: I am profoundly blessed by your amazing writing talent and your loyal friendship. To my wonderful children, MaryAnna, Noel and Elias: thank you for loving well, for caring deeply and for filling my life with laughter. And to my husband, Bill: thank you for being such a beautiful example of true love.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Letter to Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
Chapter One
Boulder, Colorado
1891
Aaron Drake slapped the leather reins, racing his team of horses faster over the dry and dusty road toward the train station. It seemed that all of Boulder was out this evening, moving at a snail’s pace through the city streets. His shirt was drenched in dirt and sweat from cutting down trees on this warm May day, but he took little notice as he kept his focus trained on the rutted street.
His good friend, Paul, had sent him to meet the five-forty train, although Aaron had no idea who or what was supposed to be waiting for him.
“Yee-haw! Get on!” he hollered to the team, swerving around a single horse carriage, parked off to the side of the road.
He swiped at beads of perspiration that trickled from beneath his straw hat not from heat but from the anxiety that had wrapped him tight.
Not more than three hours ago, Paul had been pinned beneath a felled tree. Aaron and his brothers, Ben and Zach, had been helping Paul harvest trees in order to build an addition onto his home. They’d been at it from sunup, chopping away at a record pace when the gigantic bur oak suddenly split three ways, barely missing Zach and pinning Paul beneath a section.
Now Paul was struggling to hang on to life, gasping for air even as he’d urged Aaron on to the train station.
Aaron hadn’t wanted to leave, but he’d been desperate to do something to help—especially as he recalled how many times Paul had been a lifesaving breath of encouragement in Aaron’s bleakest hours over the past months.
Hold on to hope….
Those words had come hard but insistent from Paul as he lay gulping in pain.
Aaron slapped the reins and whistled to the team, praying that Paul would take a turn for the better by the time he returned. Would God hear his plea this time? The past ten months had played out as one senseless tragedy after another, and Aaron had been hard-pressed to find God in the midst of it all. In the grand scheme of things, he had to wonder if there was still hope to be found.
He just didn’t know anymore. The day his newborn boy and his wife had died ten months ago had been the day a part of him had died, too.
Tugging his hat tighter over his forehead, Aaron kept his head low, avoiding the stares of several townsfolk. He rarely made an appearance outside work and church. He’d thrown himself into his job building fine pieces of furniture with his brother Joseph, and like so many of the buildings erected here in Boulder, he’d put on a respectable false front, keeping mostly to himself to avoid folks’ pitying remarks. Life was just easier that way.
He’d started doubting that the pain of his loss would ever fade. The ache was always with him. Deep down, he blamed himself. And he blamed God. He longed for relief from the crushing weight of it all yet felt helpless to help himself.
Just as he’d been powerless to help Paul.
Pulling on the reins, he slowed the team of horses, drawing them up to the hitching post at the Union Pacific Railroad Depot as he pushed his silent struggle aside. He set the brake and glanced at his pocket watch. He’d made good time but was still twenty minutes late to meet the five-forty. From the ghostly trail of coal smoke lingering in the late afternoon sky, the train had already departed.
Aaron tethered the team and strode up to the platform, glancing around. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for. A package? A delivery of some sort? Maybe some distant relative come for a visit. Paul hadn’t been specific, and with the way he’d labored to get out the few words he had, Aaron hadn’t wanted to tax him for more information.
He jammed his hands into his pockets as images of the accident flashed through his mind. Clamping his jaw tight against the cavernous feeling of desperation, he dragged in a steadying breath and scanned the platform.
“Goodness gracious, what are you doing here, Aaron Drake?” a voice called with grating familiarity.
It was Mrs. Beatrice Duncan—self-imposed town matron, bearer of any and all information and general busy-body. She could irritate a man till he clamored to sit atop the nearest roof, but she could also warm a person’s heart with her genuine demonstrations of concern. Right now, though, she was the last person he wanted to see.
He dragged up some good manners, then tipped his hat with a halfhearted nod. “Mrs. Duncan.”
She beelined toward him, grabbed his upper arm and tugged him toward a small gathering of folks on the platform. “If this isn’t perfect timing, I don’t know what is. There’s a special someone that I want you to meet.”
“I’m kind of in a hurry.” Aaron would’ve dug the heels of his worn boots into the thick wood, but he didn’t want to put the woman off balance. “Maybe another time.”
“No time like the present. That’s what I’m always saying.” She waved her hand in clear dismissal. “Say, I don’t believe I mentioned it to you last time you were in the mercantile, but I arranged for my niece from up around Longmont to have herself a nice little visit. Thought it’d be nice for the two of you to meet. And wouldn’t you know…she just came in on the train.” The woman stopped cold in her tracks. The way she peered at him, as though she’d just snared a rabbit for dinner, made his gut clench with dread. “And then here you are, too,” she added, her hinting words dropping like bread crumbs down a dark, dreary trail.
He wasn’t hungry and didn’t feel lost, either.
She perched a hand at her thick waistline and smiled like some well-fed house cat.
He could see what was coming just as clear as the errant wisps of bright orange hair framing Mrs. Duncan’s round face. Folks had been trying to nudge him toward remarrying, and Mrs. Duncan had been leading the pack, but it’d take an act of God to get him to love again. He couldn’t—not after losing his beloved Ellie. It would feel too much like betrayal.
Ignoring her not-so-subtle manipulation, he did a quick scan of the platform. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to meet her right now. There’s been an accident out at Paul’s place and—”
“I heard all about that,” Mrs. Duncan put in, as though referring to some trivial tidbit of information. “Poor soul.”
Aaron set his back teeth in frustration. On the way into town he’d stopped and informed Sheriff Goodwin about Paul’s accident, and apparently word had already spread. He could only imagine to what degree the story had been distorted by now.
He balled his fists against the trembling that still shook him deep as he recalled the desperate look on Paul’s face as he’d pleaded for help. Aaron and his brothers had worked frantically to free him. Finally, with the aid of Paul’s workhorses, they were able to lever the log off enough to pull him from beneath the overbearing weight.
Maybe there was a chance—
The grim expression on Ben’s face had said more than any words memorized from his medical textbooks.
Once they’d gotten Paul back to the house, Aaron would’ve done anything if it meant relieving his friend’s pain—even a little. Paul had weakly pleaded, “Hold on to hope. Promise me you’ll hold on to hope.”
Aaron promised, gently squeezing his friend’s hand to seal the vow.
“I heard that the sheriff sent for the minister. If you ask me…that does not bear well for Paul.” She gave her head a dismal shake. “Not at all. Folks only do that when they’re taking their last bow before knocking on death’s door.”
“Mrs. Duncan, I’m sorry, but—”
“Good thing you and your brothers were there. What was it that happened, anyways?” she prodded, angling her head his way. “Dora Trumm…she heard tell—”
“Really, I can’t go into it this minute.” Or any other minute. The situation was gruesome, and folks didn’t need to hear every last detail of Paul’s accident.
“Bea. Come on, we’re heading out,” Horace Duncan called as he gave Aaron an understanding kind of nod. “Gotta get this girl home before she collapses from her journey.”
Mrs. Duncan narrowed her gaze on Aaron. “You’ll have to stop over and have dinner with us so that you can meet my niece,” she whispered, sliding her proud gaze to the lanky young woman with mouse-brown hair, a long face and even longer teeth. “I figure you’re getting ready to start looking for a new wife. It’s been what…two years since Ellie passed?”
Aaron swallowed hard, realizing once again that his pain was his alone. No one really understood the way he suffered. “Ten months.”
Her squinty eyes sprang open. “Land sakes, that just flew by.”
In truth, the time had crept by, scraping nearly every bit of hope from Aaron’s soul.
He couldn’t go back in time and change what had happened, but conceding to the loss didn’t mean he’d peacefully accepted any of it. He’d been struggling to turn over whatever fresh new leaf he could find in the floor of his soul, attempting to find some hope, but so far he’d found pitiful little.
“Bea, are you coming?” Horace called from halfway down the platform.
Mrs. Duncan gave her head a curt shake. “The girl’s right as rain, sturdy as an oak, I tell you. But my Horace, he gets himself worked up into an impatient huff.”
“You better not keep him waiting, then.” Aaron breathed a sigh of relief as she bustled away to catch up to her family.
Shielding his eyes against the sun, Aaron wound around other passengers and those who’d come to greet them, then spotted a woman holding a parasol and an overstuffed satchel. She stood alone on the platform, flanked by five trunks, each big enough to outfit a small army. He glanced around, seeing no other passengers left unaccounted for and no parcels left unattended. Could this be who Paul had sent him to meet?
With a heavy step and an even heavier heart, he approached the woman, who labored to keep hold of her handbag, her parasol and at the same time tuck a fluff of green fabric down into her overstuffed carpetbag. She definitely didn’t look as if she was from these parts, especially with the rich-looking, off-white gown she wore. Folks didn’t dress like that around here—unless they were getting ready to walk down the aisle, of course. The graceful way she held herself once she got settled, staring off into the distance the way she was, made her appear almost like some fanciful statue, her dark hair gleaming like rich melted chocolate in the late sun.
He came to a stop and swept off his hat. “Excuse me, ma’am?”
She startled then pivoted to face him, nearly dropping her satchel. The brilliant smile lighting her fair face faded to obvious disappointment. “Yes?”
He inched the brim of his hat around in his hands. “Seems that you’re waiting for someone. Am I right?”
She swept her gaze over a photograph she held. But when she attempted to tuck it into the side pocket of her bag, her parasol clattered down to the wood planks. “As a matter of fact, yes, I am. I’m sure he’ll be here any moment.”
“It looks like you have your hands full. Can I help?” He gave her a congenial smile as he bent to retrieve her parasol.
She eyed the frilly fashion contraption. “Thank you, sir. But I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
Aaron could’ve walked away right then, but the vulnerable look he glimpsed in her emerald gaze and the almost forlorn way she toiled to keep hold of all of her stuff nailed his feet to the wide-plank platform. “I don’t mean to pry, but do you mind me asking who you’re waiting for?”
She gave the hem of her fancy off-white bodice a gentle tug as though setting herself right, but as far as Aaron could tell, not one hair or fiber lay out of place—city slicker, no doubt. By the bird-in-a-roomful-of-cats look about her, she’d likely not be around long. Although when his focus drifted to the sea of enormous trunks that surrounded her like servants to some fair maiden, he had to wonder. It’d take a lifetime and then some to wear that many garments.
He glanced around one more time, certain he must’ve missed a parcel or passenger, because this woman surely couldn’t have been who Paul had sent him after.
“I’m waiting for Mr. Thompson.” She cleared her throat. “Mr. Paul Thompson. Do you know him?”
Aaron flipped his gaze to the woman. “Yes, I do.”
He knew Paul almost as well as his own brothers. As sturdy on the outside as he was on the inside—Paul’s faith was unwavering.
Surely, there was something Aaron could’ve done to prevent the accident. Maybe if he’d been more attentive and noticed that the oak was splitting he could’ve warned Paul in time.
He pulled in a steadying breath. “Actually, Paul sent me to pick you up.”
Confusion crossed her face, and that same faint look of disappointment came once again, making him feel downright awful. “I see. Was Paul detained, then?”
“I’ll explain on the way out to his place. Why don’t I get your trunks loaded up in the rig?” He glanced at the trunks again as he wondered what relation this woman was to Paul. And more, how he was going to break the news to her about the accident. “My name’s Aaron Drake, by the way.” He held out his hand to her, but her arms were too full to exchange any kind of handshake. “Here, let me take that for you.”
“Thank you so much.” The slightest blush colored her cheeks as she handed her bag to him. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Drake.”
“If you don’t mind, Aaron is fine.” Realizing that the satchel handle had ripped, he tucked it beneath his arm. “We’re not much for pretense around here.”
She paused. “All right then, Aaron.”
“I’m a good friend of Paul’s—been friends for years. Are you a relative of his?”
He took in her features, looking for some similarity, but where Paul was hearty and stocky in his build, this woman was delicate and refined. Her fair skin seemed as if to glow where Paul’s skin showed the effects of countless hours of sunlight.
The hint of the smile he’d initially seen warmed her face. “I’m his bride-to-be.”
“His what?” he choked out.
This woman was as opposite to Paul as a mountain lion was to one of Ben’s pampered house cats. She seemed utterly unfit for the West. Was this some joke? Paul hadn’t said anything, not one thing about some fancy bride-to-be. Surely, he would’ve shared this small bit of information. He’d often talked of having a wife and family—someday—but he’d never indicated he was already halfway down the aisle.
“Did you say bride-to-be?”
The way her brow inched together just slightly in the minutest look of hurt gave him pause.
“We’re to be married today,” she answered, her voice soft and vulnerable as she trailed her slender fingers down her elaborate skirt.
“Today?” He swallowed hard.
“Just as soon as the minister is available—at least, that’s what Paul had written in his last letter.” She took her parasol from him and popped it open. “My name is Hope Gatlin.”
He struggled to hold his disbelief in check. It just wasn’t like Paul to keep such a monumental secret. “Nice to make your acquaint—”
Hope…
Hope?
Alarm shot down Aaron’s spine as Paul’s words galloped through his mind with the reckless speed of a wild stallion. Promise me you’ll hold on to Hope. Don’t ever let her go.
Aaron would never give his word on something he didn’t intend to fulfill. And he prided himself on wearing loyalty like a favorite shirt, but right now, taking in the gravity of it all… What had he promised?
Chapter Two
“Can you go any faster?” Hope queried yet again, the wagon creaking in protest. She could not remember one time in all of her twenty-two years when she’d begged for a quicker pace, but for the last mile since Aaron had broken the news to her about Paul’s accident, Hope had actually made the request three times.
Glancing over at Aaron, she fought to ignore the way her stomach still pitched from the last hairpin curve they’d lurched around. “Please?”
His blue eyes grew wide as he passed a glance from her parasol to her. “Ma’am, I’ll say it again. If I go any faster over these rutted roads, I run the risk of breaking the rig.” On a sigh, he turned onto a long path leading to a farm. “Besides, we’re here. This is Paul’s homestead.”
She stared ahead at the quaint farm, taking in every rustic nuance: the two-story clapboard house, the barn and chicken coop, the fields, the cows. Paul had described this place to her in his letters. He’d built everything from the ground up and had told her of how the barn had been erected in a day with the help of friends. He’d been slowly adding to the number of cows he had and was looking forward to purchasing more this spring.
Hope had marveled at his love for the land, but having been raised in a family of means in Boston, she didn’t know the first thing about farming. She’d told him that she didn’t mind hard work and would help out wherever she could, but Paul had insisted that she not dirty her pretty little hands. He’d been set on pampering her.
That sweet memory only added to the lump in her throat and the pain in her heart. She’d never imagined looking for love through the mail-order bride advertisements, but her friend had found love there. Hope had answered an ad strictly to relieve her family’s financial burden shortly after her father had lost his small fortune a year ago. With her mother insisting on keeping the house staff and with six girls at home, her father was working himself nearly to his grave, trying to manage, and this seemed the only way Hope could help.
Aaron brought the team to a stop and swung down to the ground. While he strode around to her side, she made a discreet attempt to follow him with her gaze. If the man would crack a smile on his stony face, he might be half-pleasant looking. She took in the scruff of beard on his face and his filthy clothes and couldn’t help wondering why his congenial demeanor had changed so abruptly back at the train station. His dirt-smudged face had gone ashen after she’d introduced herself, his already tense expression turning almost angry. For the life of her, Hope couldn’t figure out why.
She’d struggled to tamp down her extreme disappointment once she’d realized that Paul hadn’t mentioned her arrival to Aaron. Was Paul embarrassed by her, as Jonas had been after her family’s financial demise?
She’d been engaged to Jonas Hargrave, a longtime family friend, for two years. She’d loved the idea of marriage to a man who professed undying love. But right after her family had lost their means, she began glimpsing regret in his gaze, and as far as she was concerned, a marriage rooted in obligation would be no marriage at all.
Holding fast to her dignity, she’d eased him off the marriage hook.
He didn’t even flinch.
But then she’d met Paul. His letters had been so wonderful—almost too good to be true. He’d shown her the way to God. And her newfound faith had seemed almost too good to be true as well. The ten months she’d corresponded with Paul had been filled with hope and excitement and anticipation. She’d been certain that life would be wonderful. But now…
Paul had been seriously injured—that’s what Aaron had said. If they couldn’t get married today, that was perfectly acceptable to Hope. She could wait a day or two. She’d just do what she could to help him get better. Perhaps she’d apply cool cloths to his forehead or fluff his pillows every now and then or prepare some broth to help him keep up his strength.
“Ma’am.” The gentle sound of Aaron’s voice catapulted her to the present as he stood at her side. “I can’t help you get your feet on the ground if you don’t pry those hands loose.”
Hope looked at where she clutched her parasol and at where she’d curled white-gloved fingers in a death grip over the rough wood seat. She grappled for composure as she released her hold, her hands and arms aching from hanging on so tight. “I guess that perhaps the ride was a bit fast.”
He raised his brows over his steel-blue eyes as if to challenge her a bit fast estimation. When he stuck his hand out to help her down, she glimpsed a tremor of nervousness there. She felt a swell of compassion for the man, no matter how cold he’d been.
“Do you think Paul will feel up to having visitors?”
He no sooner got her feet on the ground than he released his hold as though her waist had been beaded with thorns. “My brother Ben is a doctor.” He started toward the house at a brisk pace. “He’s been here with him from the minute the accident happened, and he’s doing everything he can to make Paul comfortable.”
Clutching her reticule and parasol to her chest, she scrambled to catch up with Aaron, nearly tripping over the hem of her ivory brocade wedding dress. Wanting to be prepared for this momentous occasion, she’d changed out of her emerald-green taffeta dress at the train’s last stop before arriving in Boulder.
“Is he…is Paul in pain?” She almost ran into Aaron when he came to an abrupt halt at the yawning front porch that stretched across the front of the house.
His wary gaze passed over her like the dank fog that often permeated Boston Harbor. “Yes. Ben tried to give him laudanum earlier, but he wouldn’t have it. Said he wanted to be awake and aware of things until the—well, for as long as he could.”
She considered his words for a moment. Was he bracing her for the worst? Could Paul die—when she’d only just arrived? Surely, not.
Imagining her future husband lying in excruciating pain, she dabbed at tears crowding the corners of her eyes.
“I’m advising you to stay out of the house if you have a weak stomach,” he warned, his admonishing tone bordering on degrading. “Paul needs us to be strong.”
“Of course. Of course, I will,” she assured, but remembering how weak-kneed she’d been when her best friend’s little dog, Edward, had howled in pain after being kicked by a horse just last month, she wasn’t so sure.
“He’s a sturdy man, but a body can only take so much. And believe me…he’s endured more than any man I know.”
“He is strong, though. Very strong.” She remembered the reassuring way Paul had shared his faith with her in the letters. His words had been a lifeline, a fortress in the midst of a very difficult time. Surely, God wouldn’t let him die now, just as they were to marry. “I’ll do everything I can to help, but I’m sure he’ll be just fine.”
The door swung open in front of them at that moment, and a darker-haired version of Aaron stepped out onto the porch, his face grim and his eyes red-rimmed.
“He’s gone, isn’t he?” she heard Aaron ask, his voice low and strained.
The man nodded. Visibly swallowing, he blinked hard.
Hope’s knees went weak. Her head spun and her vision narrowed, but she willed herself to stay standing. She could barely take it all in.
Pulling her reticule closer, she strained to hold on to some hope. “Gone?”
Aaron pulled his mouth tight, battling to hold his raw emotion in check.
The slow finality in Ben’s nod sent Aaron’s heart to his stomach. “He passed away no more than five minutes ago.”
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, Ben,” was all he could force out as he peered up at where his brother stood on the porch. Had it not been for Mrs. Duncan waylaying him, maybe Aaron would’ve made it back sooner. And then there were the trunks he’d lugged to the wagon; that had taken a fair amount of time.
When he heard a small sniffle next to him, he turned to see Hope’s mouth drawn into a line. Her brow crimped. She held her reticule so tight to her chest that whatever she had stashed inside would be crushed.
“I’m sorry.” He set a hand on her shoulder to comfort her, feeling anything but natural in doing so.
Ever since she’d given her name, Hope, he’d been silently writhing in sheer panic. He’d tried to be congenial, and he’d worked at being caring when he’d told her about Paul a mile back, but all he could think about was the promise he’d made and what it meant—and how he was loyalty-bound to fulfill his words.
He’d promised to hold on to hope and not let her go.
But he didn’t know that hope was Hope.
He could pay her passage back to where she came from, though he couldn’t exactly make good on his promise to watch out for her from a distance, could he? But the idea of being anywhere near Hope threatened like a gun aimed directly at his vows to Ellie.
It might be easier if Hope was some dowdy spinster lucky to snag a strapping man like Paul. But Hope was nowhere near dowdy. She was beautiful…striking…elegant.
She was also a city slicker.
And that particular attribute was nothing like Ellie.
“It’s just all so sudden.” Her eyes grew moist, sending a trickle of compassion through him.
He braced himself for her to let loose a flood of tears, but instead she drew in a steadying breath, lifted her chin a little higher and ascended the steps.
Ben cleared his throat and motioned them inside. “You must be Hope,” he uttered as they preceded him into the house.
“Yes, I am.” Her voice shook slightly.
When Aaron spotted a few drops of blood that had splattered on the floor when they’d carried Paul inside, he pulled out his kerchief and hunkered down to rub them away. He wasn’t sure how Hope would respond and was intent on getting rid of the remnants before she screeched in fright.
“I’m Ben. Aaron’s oldest brother.” He closed the door behind them. “Paul just told us about you, Hope. He said you’d be coming.”
Paul had told Ben and Zach about her? Aaron angled a glance down the hallway to Paul’s room. He could hear the sheriff’s voice and Zach’s voice, too, and had to wonder what exactly Paul had said after Aaron had left for the station.
She moved into the room and set her bag and parasol at the door. She looked around her as if to get her bearings.
“Where is he now?” she asked, unpinning the matching velvet half of a hat she’d worn and sweeping it off her dark brown hair. Small tendrils wisped down to frame her face. “May I see him?”
Ben sliced a concern-filled look to Aaron.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Aaron finally responded. He and his brothers had done their best to clean Paul up, but all of the care in the world couldn’t reconstruct broken bones and reduce overt swelling. “He was in bad shape. I wouldn’t want your only view of him to be this way.”
She peered up at him with a stubborn tilt to her chin. “I’m sure I’ll be just fine. Besides, if this is the only way I’ll see him face-to-face, then that is what I shall do. It’s better than not having seen Paul at all.”
He caught the shadow of approval that crossed Ben’s face and couldn’t help but silently applaud her surprising show of strength.
“This way, then.” Ben led the way back to the room and motioned Zach and the sheriff out.
Aaron could hear Ben speaking to Hope in the doctorly tone of voice he reserved for grim moments like this. He braced himself for a loud wail or sob from the young woman but heard nothing—not even a sniffle.
And that was almost worse.
Once Ben exited the bedroom and closed the door behind him, Aaron let out a heavy sigh.
“What do we do now?” he whispered as Ben moved over to where Aaron stood with the sheriff and Zach. “I mean, Paul had planned on marrying her as soon as she arrived. We don’t know a thing about her.”
Ben crossed his arms at his chest and rubbed a hand over the late-afternoon scruff on his chin. “We do know that Paul cared for her deeply, however. Enough that he made arrangements with the sheriff here to have his bank account and land deeded to her name.”
“You can’t be serious,” he ground out.
“As serious as the river’s rise come spring, son,” the sheriff corrected.
“Was he in his right mind?” Aaron probed, feeling squeezed by the way he’d promised himself between a rock and a hard place.
“Yes, he was in his right mind.” The reproving look Ben gave pulled Aaron up short. “In fact, he made a stipulation that if, by summer’s end, Hope decides that staying here on the farm is too much, then she can sell. The money would be hers to keep and do with what she wanted.”
The sheriff sliced a breath through his sparse teeth. “Don’t know what her background is, but one way or t’other, as far as money’s concerned, she’s settin’ pretty now. Just as pretty as the lady is herself,” he added with a tactless chuckle.
“Sheriff, do you mind going into town to let folks know?” Ben ushered the man to the door. “That would help a great deal.”
Aaron gave a relieved sigh. Goodwin, though well meaning, lacked social grace and would only make things more awkward with his ill-placed attempts at humor.
“Sure will.” He tugged at his britches and patted where his gun was strapped to his side in that self-important way of his. “Is there anything else I can get you boys?”
“Not that I can think of. But we’ll sure let you know if there is, all right?” Ben slapped him on the back. “But if you happen to know where Jane is—”
“Denver. She’s returning tomorrow.” The sheriff slid a hand along his belt. “I’ll be the one to break the news to her, because knowin’ Jane…she might just need a big ole’ shoulder to cry on, seein’ as how he was her brother and all.” Goodwin scuffed out the door, his boots tramping over the porch floor.
Once he was gone, Ben returned to where Zach and Aaron were standing, his expression bleak.
“There’s another thing, Aaron.” Zach squared his shoulders.
Wary, Aaron braced himself. “What’s that?”
Zach and Ben exchanged concerned glances. “Well, after you left for the train station, Paul couldn’t stop expressing how grateful he was that you’d made the promise you did.”
“That brought him a lot of comfort, Aaron,” Zach encouraged. “More than you’ll ever know.”
“Well, I’m glad for that.” He swiped a hand over his forehead. “He was in so much pain I would’ve done anything.”
“I know.” Ben clasped Aaron’s shoulder. “And you did because that’s the kind of friend you are. Loyal. True. Caring.”
“Do you remember what that promise was?” Zach prodded.
“I’m not an idiot.” Aaron gave his head an exasperated shake, feeling as though he was being crushed by the weight of his promise. “Of course, I remember what I promised. I said that I’d hold on to hope. But I thought he was referring to faith,” he uttered, trying to keep his voice low. He raked his fingers through his hair. “I thought he was talking about finding peace and hope again after everything with Ellie and the baby. That’s what I thought he meant. He’s been saying things like that for months.”
After several silent moments, Ben puffed out a long breath. “Well, Paul had other ideas.”
Aaron’s eyes grew wide. “Believe me, I realized that just as soon as she introduced herself. Paul wanted me to watch out for her. That’s what he meant.”
“Actually, he meant for you to marry her,” Zach said, easing the words out as though he was spoon-feeding a baby.
Desperation constricted Aaron’s throat. He forced a swallow past the tightness. He could barely breathe. “Marry her?”
“Yep,” Zach answered as if sealing some kind of deal. “Marry Hope and take care of her. Said he couldn’t think of another man he’d rather leave his bride to than you.”
Aaron’s blood ran cold. His entire body shook, yet he couldn’t do a thing to control the vicious trembling. His emotions whipped around in his soul with blizzard force.
The weight of his promise hit him full force. He was a man of his word, loyal to the core. He’d made a promise to a dying friend.
He’d also made a promise to his wife at the altar when they’d married four years ago. How could he possibly honor one vow without dishonoring the other? And how could he possibly enter into something that should be founded on love when he barely knew this woman?
Ben gave his shoulder another squeeze. “I know this is a lot to take in.”
“More than a lot to take in,” he grunted, feeling as desperate as a cornered and injured animal.
“It wouldn’t have been right if we didn’t at least tell you what Paul said.” Zach clasped his other shoulder.
“No, I’m glad you did. It was the right thing to do.” Aaron jammed his hands to his waist and began pacing the floor. He felt helpless to gain some kind of control over the direction his life had suddenly taken. “I’m telling you…I was as sincere as I could be when I made that promise. I just didn’t know.”
Ben cleared his throat. “It’s your decision, Aaron. You have to do what you think is right.”
Peering down the hallway, he stared at the bedroom where his friend lay dead, way too soon, just like Ellie and baby Jeremiah. In Aaron’s greatest time of need, Paul had been a true friend. He’d been there with quiet strength, not barraging Aaron with empty words meant to lift his spirit. He hadn’t ignored Aaron’s loss nor had he ruminated over it endlessly. He’d just let Aaron grieve then gently urged his focus to God.
Paul had been a true friend.
Turning to face his brothers, he finally realized that he had no other option. With his fists clenched and head held high, he looked them in the eye. “I made a promise. I’m going to marry Hope.”
Chapter Three
On a long, slow breath, Hope endeavored to calm the flurry of emotions blowing through her heart. She reached out and touched Paul’s hand, longing for the warmth of life to meet her touch.
He was cold.
She gently pressed her palm against his and entwined her trembling fingers in his, trying to memorize the way his hand, large and callused enough to be strong and protecting, felt in hers. But how could she etch into her remembrance something she’d never truly felt? How could she tuck away the sweet memory of her name on his lips?
She relinquished his hand and closed her eyes, her heart clenching with grief. She should pray, but she didn’t know what to pray for. Help? Comfort?
She had no idea a person could feel such tangible fear, desperation and overwhelming sadness at the same time.
Dabbing at her eyes, she stared at where Paul lay covered in a white sheet and simple blue coverlet—so still and so pale. The distinct metallic scent of blood hung in the air, mixing with the musky scent of perspiration that still beaded his forehead.
Hope didn’t regret seeing him like this, but it wasn’t easy—growing up, she’d been sheltered from such things. Paul had suffered, of that she had no doubt. She couldn’t imagine how he’d survived more than a few minutes, let alone three hours.
But the serene look that lingered on his face had taken her by surprise. Even in the midst of staggering pain, he’d found peace. As strong as Paul’s faith was, she was sure he’d been ready to meet his Maker and had probably accepted his impending death.
Hope just didn’t know if she accepted it.
For months now, she’d longed for the moment their lives would be joined in marriage. She couldn’t understand how God could connect her life with Paul’s and then rip him away before she’d ever known the comfort of his embrace.
She’d left all she’d known to join him here in Boulder. With not a single penny to her name, she had no way of returning to Boston. Aaron and his doctor brother were the only souls she knew in this rough-and-tumble land.
And all she could think about right now was the next few minutes and how she would try to hold herself together in front of them.
Standing, she wrapped poise around her like some warm and comforting quilt, hoping that she had what it would take to walk through this alone. She crossed to the heavy oak paneled door and opened it, willing her wobbly legs not to give out on her as she left the room. She resisted the urge to hug her arms to her chest as her mother had always cautioned her, saying that it appeared weak and unladylike.
Well, if ever there was a time where Hope felt weak, it was now. But being alone, she couldn’t afford to be weak.
She couldn’t afford anything—not even a bowl of soup for her next meal.
The irony of her situation stared her in the face like some fierce predator from the surrounding mountains. She drew her arms to her sides and met the three men’s watchful gazes.
“I’m sorry. We did everything we could to keep him alive.” Ben’s voice was low, tight. “He wanted to hang on long enough to talk with you. But I couldn’t—”
“I wouldn’t have wanted him to suffer any more than he did.” She unfurled her fisted hands, trying to ignore her need for a little consolation. “He must have been in terrible pain.”
The studying glance Aaron cast her way left her feeling as if he’d tried to take a peek inside her soul.
She touched her delicate lace-trimmed neckline, suddenly feeling vulnerable.
“I’m sorry about this, ma’am.” The other brother offered her his hand, and she shook it. “Name’s Zach, by the way.”
She struggled to stay collected at his caring demeanor. “Thank you, Zach.”
“This has to be a shock,” he added.
Nodding, she pulled her mouth tight against the cry that begged for escape. “I’m still trying to make sense of it all. I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do now.”
“We’ll take care of funeral arrangements and Paul’s body.” Aaron swiped a hand over his forehead, glancing over her shoulder to the bedroom. “Don’t worry about that, all right?”
She nodded. “I’m grateful.”
Ben stepped a little closer, his expression crimped with compassion. “Paul really cared for you, ma’am. He wanted to make sure you were well cared for.”
She glanced up at him, confused. Well cared for? Though she didn’t, for a moment, doubt Paul’s desire to take care of her, he couldn’t very well do that from the grave. “I don’t understand.”
On a loud exhale, Ben pulled a hand over his dirt-smudged face. “When Sheriff Goodwin was out here, Paul made arrangements for you to have this farmstead,” he said, gesturing out the windows where fields stretched wide and big fat cows mulled about in the corral. “And also for his bank account in town to be transferred to your name, ma’am.”
Hope swallowed hard, turning her wide-eyed gaze from the windows, where the early evening sun poured through the glass panes, to stare at Ben. Had Paul truly thrown her such an enormous lifeline?
“The farm belongs to you,” Ben measured out as if realizing her shock. “As well as all of Paul’s money.”
She glanced at Zach, who gave her a gentle smile and slight nod as if to verify his brother’s words. But when she slid her attention to Aaron, she almost startled at the fear that contorted his face.
“Are you feeling all right?” she asked before she could stop herself.
“I’m fine.” He dodged her gaze, the muscles at his strong jaw line pulsating.
Ben dipped his head down as if to grab her attention. “I don’t know what the amount is in his account, but knowing Paul, I’m fairly certain there’s at least enough there for you to live comfortably for many years to come.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say a thing,” Zach responded.
“But we hadn’t even married yet.” She fingered the silk brocade fabric of her skirt, feeling uncomfortable and yet next to tears at Paul’s extreme generosity. “And what of his sister? I know that he has a sister living in the area, too, doesn’t he?”
“Jane lives at the edge of Paul’s property in a small home of her own. She’s out of town until tomorrow morning—at least that’s what the sheriff said. He and Mrs. Duncan pretty much know everybody’s business in town,” Zach answered, a knowing grin tipping his mouth. “But I’m sure Jane will support Paul’s decision. She’s nice enough.”
“Yeah, I don’t think you’ll have any problems there,” Aaron confirmed, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Paul was adamant about this, ma’am.” Ben motioned for them to move toward the front room where a fire had been lit in the hearth.
She should feel glad for the warmth and comfort of the crackling flames licking around the logs, but for some reason nothing could take the chill from her soul. The farm…the bank account…Paul had known her circumstance and had seen to her future, without him. But could she start a new life alone?
“He said that he wanted to make sure you’d be taken care of. That was all he could think about in those last minutes he was able to talk.” With a heavy sigh, Ben eased himself down into the wood rocking chair flanking the fireplace.
Zach plopped unceremoniously down into the damask sofa and hooked one arm over the back of it, staring over his shoulder out the window. “This farm is one of the best around.”
“Paul sure loved this land,” Aaron added as he motioned for her to sit down in a simply upholstered chair and then finally sat down next to Zach.
“It’s lovely. Really it is.” She glanced around the spacious home then outside to the fields. She didn’t even know what to compare this farm to. Apart from the flowering plants in the greenhouse her family kept, she’d never even been close enough to touch a crop. “But I must admit…I don’t know the first thing about farming.”
The knowing glances Aaron exchanged with his brothers left Hope wishing she could hear their thoughts.
“Mind you, I’m not completely unfamiliar with how things grow.” With a small amount of relief, she recalled how her family had employed both a gardener and a stable hand full time. And the property wasn’t even close to this size. “I’m certain the farmhands will be an invaluable help with everything were I to have questions.”
Ben cleared his throat. “He’s worked the land himself for five years now.”
She furrowed her brow, certain that she must’ve heard him wrong. “Alone? You mean he had no farmhands?”
Aaron shook his head. “Not Paul. He’d work from sunup to sundown. Alone.”
“But I—I’ve never—” She couldn’t even begin to imagine herself planting seeds or feeding those big black and brown cows or the squawking chickens she’d spotted.
Once, in a letter, she’d told Paul that she’d gladly work beside him on the farm. She’d meant every word. She wanted to love what he loved. But she’d pictured scattering flower seeds or filling a small basket with carrots she’d picked herself. She hadn’t imagined running the place.
“I know this is a lot to think about.” Ben braced his hands on his knees. “Paul did say that if by summer’s end you aren’t happy here that you can sell the place and do with the money what you will.”
She gave her head a distraught shake. “I couldn’t do that to him.”
“Well, Paul seemed to think you might…that you might need some help.” Aaron looked about as taut as a tightly strung bow. “I promised him I’d help, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
With the forced way he’d said those last few words, Hope would’ve guessed that his mother had been standing behind him, twisting his ear.
She absolutely did not want him helping out of some sense of duty. “I’m sure I can manage.”
Aaron gave her an I-don’t-believe-you-for-a-second look. Quite honestly, she didn’t believe herself either. Why in the world would she make such a claim? She could barely saddle a horse, let alone run a farm.
But when she thought of Paul’s tremendous generosity and thoughtfulness, she couldn’t bear the thought of not doing her best to honor his efforts with toiling of her own. “I’ll do my best to make sure his hard work isn’t wasted.”
“I’m sure you mean well, but this farm is a lot to take on. And I promised him I’d help,” Aaron reiterated as though to convince himself. He stood and crossed to the mantel, his well-worn boots scuffing across the polished wood floor. With his back to Hope, she could see the tension bunching his muscles beneath his ecru shirt as he leaned against the mantel. “I also promised him that I’d take care—” he pivoted slow and steady, peering at her as though he faced a firing squad “—take care of you.”
Hope couldn’t move her gaze from him as his words settled over her. For some reason, instead of bringing her comfort, they annoyed her. How could Aaron think that he could take Paul’s place? Or that she needed his help? “Take care of me?”
He glanced at Ben, who gave him the slightest raise of an eyebrow and inclination of his head. Then Aaron slid his focus to Zach, who held out his hands as if to say, “It’s up to you.”
With a cough, Aaron turned his complete attention to Hope, and for some reason she wanted to run all the way back to the train station. He’d been avoiding her gaze since the moment she’d introduced herself, and now that his focus was bearing down so totally upon her, she squirmed under the intensity.
But she had nowhere to go. Apparently she had money now, but she also had a farm to run.
“I—I know this is awkward. It is for me, too, but I…well, it meant something to Paul when I promised to take care of you.”
“What, exactly, do you mean?” She forced herself to stay seated.
She’d never run from difficult circumstances. Ever. When her family lost their fortune, she’d held her head high and found work at a bakery. And when her fiancé began showing signs of regret, she’d quietly bowed out of the relationship—her family hadn’t even known of the real reason the engagement had been called off.
“I promised to hold on to hope.” His voice broke. His throat visibly constricted. “In Paul’s mind that meant that I’d marry you.”
Hope strained to keep her shock from contorting her face, but she was pretty sure that she failed—miserably.
How could he possibly think that she would want a marriage based out of obligation? She’d rather be a spinster for the rest of her life.
Standing, she willed her arms to remain at her sides as she looked him square in the eye. His words pierced her soul, pricking the raw wound that still gaped from Jonas.
She wouldn’t marry Aaron now—even if he dropped to his knees and begged. She barely even knew him. Besides, she could list off ten different reasons why this man had likely never married: his emotionless, unfeeling approach to things of great importance, being first and foremost on her list.
“So, I guess that settles it then.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “How soon do you want the wedding?”
“There isn’t going to be a wedding.”
Her simple, measured answer took Aaron aback. With the fanciful way she’d likely been raised, he thought for sure she’d find relief in the offer and that she’d be glad to have someone take care of her.
“No?” He looked for some kind of hesitation in her gaze.
“No.”
Though his pride was a little stung, the way she stared down her nose at him made him immensely glad she’d just declined his offer. They were as different as night and day. And she was nothing like Ellie.
He wasn’t exactly sure what Paul had seen in the woman, although it could’ve been very easy for her to hide her true colors in letters. She was a highfalutin city slicker. The way she held her head high, he guessed that she probably considered herself above those here in the West.
But she didn’t seem dull. In fact, she struck him as being intelligent, so why would she travel all the way from the East if she knew what she was getting herself into? Had it truly been for love?
She slid a hand down the buttoned front of her waistcoat and then adjusted it as if it was askew. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I believe I’ll go outside for a breath of fresh air.”
Her heeled, brown-booted feet tapped in quiet succession from the room and to the front door where she grabbed her parasol on the way outside.
After she’d made it down the steps, Aaron collapsed onto the sofa next to Zach. He held his head in his hands, willing the incessant pounding that had started suddenly to stop.
“Do you think you could’ve been any more insulting?” Ben’s terse voice reverberated in Aaron’s head. “I mean, really, Aaron. So, I guess that settles it?”
“How soon do you want the wedding?” Zach mocked.
He glared at them. “What was I supposed to say?”
Ben gave his head a sorry shake. “I don’t know, but that definitely wasn’t it.”
“A woman doesn’t want to feel like some obligation,” Zach scolded, slapping his knee.
Narrowing his gaze, Aaron turned to peer at him. “And how would you know? You’re not even married.”
“True. But do you think Ellie would’ve wanted to be proposed to in that manner?”
Aaron pulled a hand over the back of his neck, trying to massage away the pain. He scrambled for some reasonable excuse to support his actions, but no matter what justification he grasped for, it fell apart in his hands. “No. But this is different. It wasn’t a proposal—well, not exactly, anyway. It was more like a business arrangement.”
Zach just stared at him in that way he had that made a man feel small. “Regardless, that sure was a dead-fish way to go about it. Remind me never to ask you for romantic advice.”
Aaron held his hands up. “Believe me. That area of my life has been sealed and shut for good. There is no way I’ll ever love again.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Ben cautioned, raising his brows for a fleeting moment.
Aaron dragged his hand over his scruffy face, thinking for the first time today how disheveled he must look. He hadn’t had time to clean up before racing into town to meet the train—before everything had changed, before life had taken another jolting turn.
“I’ll watch out for her and help her on the farm,” he muttered. “Since she doesn’t want to get married, at least I can do that much.”
“What about your job at the wood shop? Won’t Joseph need you?” Ben queried.
Aaron recalled the orders they had waiting to be filled. “I’ll talk with him. See what we can work out. He’s been getting along so well on his own.”
“That’s good to hear. But he’ll still need you, won’t he?” Ben was protective of Joseph. Since Joseph had lost his sight in a shop accident about a month before Ellie had died, he’d been making great strides, but Ben was always watchful.
“I’m sure he will, but apart from lunch I’ll be working my usual hours.”
“Well, I’ll do what I can to help.” Ben clasped his hands between his legs.
“Me, too, but with calving season here, I’ll be hard-pressed to get away from the ranch much.” Zach stuck his legs out in front of him, draping one foot over the other.
“Speaking of seasons…planting season is breathing down our necks. There won’t be time to try and find a hired man.” Ben peered into the fire as if looking for some answer there. “Besides, Paul said that any man she’d hire had to first go through you.” He pinned Aaron with an intense gaze.
“You can be sure that there’d be men clambering for the job, but I wouldn’t hire someone unless I could trust them up one side and down another.” When he thought about how delicate Hope was, how vulnerable she’d seemed on the depot platform, the need to protect her rose up like some distant call. “In fact, at least for the first week or so I’m sleeping out in the barn. That way if she runs into any problems I’ll be close by. I’m not taking any chances with her being here all by herself. Not when she’s so—”
“Beautiful?” Zach finished for him.
Aaron slanted a challenge-laced glance his brother’s way. “If she’s so beautiful, I’m surprised you’re not stuttering around her.”
“So am I.” Zach’s gaze shuttered as though he was remembering the difficulty he’d had some years ago. At eleven years of age, an embarrassing case of stuttering had set in after he’d been trapped in a cave alone for two days. He hadn’t talked about the incident much and had worked hard the past few years to overcome his stutter. But once in a while he’d have a relapse—especially whenever he was around a pretty woman.
“Frankly, I’m not even sure she’ll consent to hiring someone. She seemed downright determined to get her hands dirty.” Aaron shook his head as he imagined Hope up to her elbows in garden dirt. “I can’t picture her dirtying those perfectly manicured fingers of hers, though. Can you? And did you see the way her skin looks like it’s never seen the light of day? Or the way she walks all straight and tall like some princess?”
His brothers exchanged a goading look that set Aaron’s hackles standing on end.
“Don’t give me that,” he warned, feeling oddly defensive. But he had nothing to defend. Or did he? “I couldn’t help but notice. She stands out like a sore thumb.”
“I wouldn’t exactly say a sore thumb,” Ben corrected.
“Well, she’s not who I would’ve expected Paul to marry, that’s for sure.” Aaron shoved his gaze to the pine floor, downright irritated by their provoking.
“Why? Because she’s such a fine-looking lady?” Zach prodded.
Aaron scowled. “Paul didn’t exactly look like the underside of a plow. I guess I thought he’d marry someone a little heartier. Like himself.”
“She might be heartier than you think.” Ben pointed out the front window. “Look.”
Aaron wrenched around in his seat to see Hope standing in the middle of the herd of cattle, her arms stuck straight up in the air as she shimmied through the livestock. When she suddenly dipped down, disappearing into the mass of beasts as they closed in on her, his heart came to a complete stop.
“Oh, for the love of—” He catapulted off the sofa, through the room and out the front door to rescue her. Already.
As he raced out to the corral, he wondered how in the world he’d be able to keep track of her from his home, two miles away. But as she sprang up with a yellow tabby kitten in her hands then bravely edged toward the gate, gentling the cattle in spite of her obvious discomfort, he wondered if the barn or even two miles away would be far enough.
Chapter Four
“I’m coming, Hope. Whatever you do, don’t make any quick moves,” Aaron warned. He slowed his pace, resisting the urge to throw open the gate since doing so could spook the cattle. His pulse pounded through his veins. The situation could turn disastrous in a mere fraction of a second if she panicked…if he panicked.
She hurled a cursory glance his way and then yanked the hem of her dress, tearing it free from beneath the hoof of a black Hereford bull—a bull, that minutes ago, had been corralled in a solitary confinement of sorts. With an irritated huff, she turned and gave the bull’s wet nose a single swat, eyeing the massive creature as though he’d purposely ruined her garment—her wedding dress.
“What in the world!” Ignoring his own trepidation, Aaron wedged himself between this woman and the cattle that had closed in on her like a giant litter of two-thousand-pound, menacing puppies. She either had a death wish or was completely naive to the unpredictability of ranch cattle—especially that of an aggressive bull. Wrapping his arms around Hope, he couldn’t miss the way her entire body trembled or her indignant look as he steered her through the small opening to safety.
Once he’d latched the sturdy wood gate and gathered one gigantic steadying breath, he turned and clamped a scolding gaze on her and folded his arms at his chest as he attempted to calm his raging pulse. “What were you doing entering the corral like that? You could’ve been injured or worse.”
“This poor little guy…” Hope nuzzled her cheek against the yellow tabby. Her hands quivered as she pulled the bedraggled kitten close. “He was about to get trampled beneath all of those enormous feet. This sweet little kitten’s life could’ve tragically ended right there.”
The kitten gave the smallest, most pitiful meow as it strained to climb higher, right into the crook of Hope’s slender neck.
“Shh. It’s all right,” she whispered, placing a kiss on top of the kitten’s head, its long hair fraying every which way.
“So you not only entered the corral, but you opened the bull’s pen and went in after the kitten?” he prodded, dreading the thought of having to coax the bull back to his own pen.
If Aaron hadn’t been seeing this with his own eyes, he might not have believed she could be so oblivious to the danger she’d put herself in just seconds ago.
“What else was I to do? He wandered in there.”
“You could’ve called for help,” he answered, remembering how enormously afraid Ellie had been of cattle—all cattle. He’d always wanted a milking cow and a few beef cattle, but Ellie had been outright terrified, and he refused to put her through the stress it would’ve caused. “We would’ve been out here in no time.”
“There was not a second to waste.” Her incensed gaze drifted up to Aaron and then shot over to the cattle as though to wound them straight through. “Badly done, cows. Shame on all of you.”
Amazed by her complete naivety, Aaron made no attempt to hide his dismay as he stared, slack-jawed, at Hope.
Her perfectly arched eyebrows furrowed for a brief moment as she took him in. Then she glanced down at her sullied dress and tattered hem. “I can barely believe the nerve of that cow,” she whispered, her words obviously meant for the kitten she cradled like some baby. She glared straight into the eyes of the bull at fault, her audacity making Aaron question whether the sturdy gate could withstand a sudden charge.
The angry puff of breath forced through the Hereford’s flaring nostrils was a sure sign that Hope was treading on shaky ground. “That’s really not a good idea, ma’am.”
“To what are you referring?” She narrowed her gaze on the guilty party again.
“Staring at him that way.” Sidestepping, Aaron made an effort to block her view of the accused.
“But look at him.” She craned her neck to glare at the culprit. “He’s being a bully.”
“They don’t call them bulls for nothing.” Incredulous, he gave his head a slow shake as he closed in on her, grasping her arm firmly enough so that she’d know he meant business and tenderly enough to assure her that he meant no harm. He led her away from the corral, stopping only to grab her parasol from where she’d dropped it.
When he recalled the trace of fright on her face as she’d bravely made her way through the herd with the kitten in her hands and then the sweet and tender way she cradled the scrawny tabby—likely a stray who happened to be searching for a scrap of food in the wrong place—he had his answer. She had no idea.
“We best get you back to the house before that bull decides to rally his friends and break through the gate.”
She gasped. “He wouldn’t dare.”
“This isn’t the cultured streets of Boston, ma’am.”
When a confused and almost fearful look passed over her fair features, he had a hard time getting mad at her. She was a delicate city flower dropped into the West, where only the heartiest took root and grew. And for some reason he felt compelled to make sure she was well protected.
After Aaron had accompanied her to a safe distance from the anxious herd, he brought her to a halt. “Listen, I know you’ve been in Boulder less than two hours and that your world has been turned on end, but if you’re going to stay here then there are some things you should know.”
There were plenty of risks she should know about, and if she was going to survive the next twenty-four hours on Paul’s farm, and if Aaron was to have peace, he’d have to set her straight. But even then he was sure that serenity would elude him, just like the river bass always dodged his fishhook.
But when he looked into those emerald eyes of hers, he suddenly had a hard time remembering those precautions that had seemed so imperative only seconds ago.
“Yes.” Her voice eased him from his silent perusal.
Jamming the toe of a boot into the dusty soil and kicking up a cloud of dirt, he struggled to clear his mind.
“What is it that you wanted to tell me?” She raised her chin a notch then glanced over to the herd of agitated cattle mulling about at the fence line.
Aaron cleared his throat. He gently grasped her chin and turned her head to look her in the eye. “First of all, never, and I mean never, stare into the eyes of a bull.”
“But I—”
“Never,” he interrupted, with more severity than he’d intended given the way she shuddered. But as the image of Hope getting trampled dashed through his mind, fierce protectiveness for her rose up strong and sure—and completely unbidden. “Do you understand me?”
After a long moment, she gave a single, conceding nod.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, desperate to wipe away the tingling sensation coursing through his fingers from holding her chin. “They take that sort of thing as a challenge. As unfair and rude as you think that fella was being to your little friend there—” he nodded toward the purring kitten “—or stepping on your dress the way—”
“My dress is simply an irritation. Nothing more.” She cuddled the kitten in the crook of her slender neck. “It’s this helpless one who gave me such a fright.”
“Lady, you gave me a fright,” Aaron choked out. He set a hand to his chest. “My heart nearly pounded right out of my rib cage. In fact, it’s still pumping like there’s no tomorrow,” he ground out, the admission carelessly spilling from his mouth without warning. It wasn’t as if he was fond of her. But he did feel obligated—no, honor-bound, he corrected himself, remembering Zach’s scolding—to watch after her. “If that bull decided to take you on,” he added, perusing her slight, feminine form, “all five-foot-two of you wouldn’t have a fighting chance.”
Just then he glanced over to find Ben and Zach standing at the window, their arms draped in a lazy fashion at their chests and irritatingly innocent grins plastered across their faces. They peered with shameless mirth through the crystal clear window as though watching some theater production. They’d done nothing to help him out here. They appeared to enjoy the fact that he’d pledged himself to this woman’s safekeeping.
He had to wonder…did he have a fighting chance?
The sun’s first light bathed the spare bedroom at the back of Paul’s home in a soft, rosy glow. At any other time the effect would’ve been soothing, but Hope didn’t feel any more at peace than she had eight hours ago. She’d lain awake all night long, thinking, praying and trying not to be angry.
She was angry at Paul for leaving her so soon.
She was angry at God for taking him.
She was angry at Aaron for being so unkind and severe.
Restless, she pulled in a deep breath, bracing herself to face the unknowns that today would bring—meeting Paul’s sister, going to the funeral, tending to duties on the farm…her farm.
Did she belong here?
After the way Aaron had scolded her about the whole cow fiasco, as if she were a small child, she had to wonder. And knowing what a contrast this kind of life was to her privileged upbringing she questioned even more. But she had no choice. Paul had been kind and loving enough to ensure her well-being. Even though he’d given her a way out at summer’s end, she couldn’t let him down.
Moreover, she couldn’t let herself down by giving up.
Reaching for where the kitten slept beside her under the covers, she stroked the tabby’s downy-soft fur. Theodore was what she’d named him, although she often called him sweetie. With all of his fluff of orange fur and his perfect little face, she couldn’t bear letting him fend for himself when he’d almost died right in front of her eyes. Besides, she’d never had a kitten of her own. It was nice having something to hold when it seemed she was so alone.
Last night after Aaron and his brothers had left her to herself, she’d brought Theodore inside. Hope’s mother could never stomach animals, inside or otherwise, but Hope had never understood the reasoning. And Aaron, as nervous as he was acting yesterday, would probably tell her that this innocent little kitten was liable to scratch her eyes out.
Aaron had seemed pretty intent on doling out a list of don’ts—almost as if he didn’t trust her to walk five feet without making some kind of grave or dangerous mistake.
She’d make mistakes, of that she was certain. But surely he was being a bit overbearing. Take the cows, for instance. They’d seemed perfectly fine to her. Certainly she wouldn’t have ventured into their midst had it not been for Theodore nearly being trampled, but really they’d seemed gentle enough. Even that lonely cow in his own pen had seemed sad when he’d received her scolding swat on the nose. Why, she was almost sure she’d heard him sniffling.
She’d just have to get to know the farm and the animals as quickly as possible so that she didn’t feel so out of sorts.
When a long all-encompassing yawn commanded Hope’s attention, she realized that she’d not gotten more than an hour of sleep combined. But even so, she had to get up and face the day.
When she felt Theodore nestle in closer against her legs, she lifted the covers and peeked at her kitten. The adoring way he squeezed his eyes shut and purred brought a smile to her face. She wasn’t alone. She had this sweet one. And Paul had once written that God was always there in the best and worst of times—that He was an ever-present help in times of trouble.
Picturing Paul’s broken body, she had to wonder if God had been a help for Paul when he’d been pinned beneath the tree. She’d counted on Paul showing her the way in her newfound faith. Would her miniscule understanding of God be enough to find what had been so real to Paul?
Maybe Paul’s sister would be a help. If she was anything like her brother—kind, understanding, tenderhearted—then Hope would have nothing to worry about. She’d be all right. She had to believe that from here on out there would be an endless swath of blue skies.
Jane was nothing like Paul.
In fact, Hope would’ve vowed the woman was some imposter, if not for the way Aaron and his family and the townspeople crowded around her now. They’d all gathered for Paul’s funeral beneath one of the large pines anchoring the small cemetery. And now they offered their condolences as the lanky undertaker dropped shovelfuls of reddish dirt, reminiscent of his mat of red hair, over the simple pine box.
Hope struggled to steady her hand as she dabbed at her eyes and grappled for composure. Closing her eyes, she listened to the last bit of musky earth being thrown over Paul’s grave and then the shovel’s dull clang as the undertaker struck the soil to pack it down—as if to seal Paul’s fate.
When she opened her eyes to see the gangly man yield one final clanging blow to the earth, she wished she would wake up from this horrible nightmare…to open her eyes and find herself standing at the church altar, at the very cusp of a brand-new life with Paul.
She grieved the man she knew from his letters. She grieved the life they could have had. But seeing the way each person in attendance was wrought with such deep sorrow, she realized that she grieved never really knowing Paul.
These people…they’d known him. They’d seen how he walked and how he rode a horse. They’d heard his voice, his laugh. They’d felt his touch.
She was an outsider.
There was no mistaking that Jane was incensed by Hope’s presence and clearly thought she was an intruder. From the outset this morning when Jane had arrived home, she’d been cold and frosty whenever she was alone with Hope. She’d made no bones about her displeasure with Paul’s deathbed decisions. Jane had seemed equally incensed by Aaron’s assurance that he would watch out for Hope. She’d even said as much.
Witnessing the way the woman’s shoulders heaved on a loud sob, Hope’s heart swelled with compassion. After all, Jane had lost her brother, suddenly and tragically.
When she felt a gentle touch at her elbow, she looked to find Aaron standing at her side.
“I’ll see you and Jane home now—that is, if you’re ready.” His voice was low, and his blue eyes were moist and undeniably sad—a sadness that seemed to be almost permanently etched into his roguish features.
“That’ll be fine. Thank you.”
When he gestured for her to walk with him down the footpath, she turned and stared at where Paul had been laid to rest beneath the newly turned earth. “Will you give me just one more moment, please?” She glanced back at Aaron.
When he nodded and walked away, she approached the grave and stood there for a long moment. She’d had no problem dreaming of what life would be like with Paul when she was back in Boston, but the harder she tried to generate some kind of image of herself with him now, the further removed she felt. She couldn’t seem to see anything other than the glaring fact that she barely knew him.
“He was a real nice feller, wasn’t he?” The undertaker stood beside her, wedging his shovel into the earth and barely missing her foot.
“Yes, he was.” She tucked her right foot next to her left one, resisting the urge to turn and see just how far away Aaron had gone. “A fine man.”
Pulling one overly large floppy glove off, the long-limbed man reached out to shake her hand. His razorlike Adam’s apple bobbed so severely she thought it likely to cut straight through his throat. “Name’s Pete. Pete O’Leary.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. O’Leary.” She shook his hand, struggling to school her expression against the way his sweaty palm clamped against hers.
“If’n you ever need anything. You jest give me a holler.”
She smiled, though not enough so as to encourage the man in any way. “Thank you for your kindness, but I’m sure I’ll be just fine.”
“I heard that he went and left his farm to you. And that you was to be married. Is that the truth?” he inquired with as much candidness as Hope imagined possible.
Just then a weasellike animal poked its head out from a pack strapped to the man’s back. “All right, Conroy. You seen the perty lady. Now you get yerself back in there, ya hear?” Mr. O’Leary reached over his shoulder and gave the animal’s head a gentle pat. “Conroy’s my ferret. Bought him off’un a travelin’ salesman.”
“He’s a fine-looking ferret,” she commented as the adorable animal wiggled his long-whiskered nose at her and then dived into the sturdy denim pack.
“He goes with me most places—cept’n fer church. Though, Lord knows that bein’ there’d do his thievin’ soul some good.” Mr. O’Leary leaned a gangly arm on the shovel handle and sighed as the ferret rebelliously popped up again, perching his front paws on the man’s rail-thin shoulder. “The critter can’t seem to keep his dishonest paws from takin’ that which ain’t his.”
The earnest show of the man’s distress and the delightful look of innocence on the ferret’s whiskered face coaxed a smile from Hope. She was grateful for the diversion so that she didn’t have to field the man’s inquiries. “With a face like that, how could he possibly mean to be ill-behaved?”
“That’s what I been tellin’ myself, but after a while a body’s gotta wonder.” He shrugged out of the pack and folded his legs beneath him, then tucked the long, lean ferret back inside. “This is not social hour at the opera house.” Jane’s terse voice sounded at Hope’s ear.
Hope turned just in time to see Jane’s cutting glare swing from her to the undertaker then back again, but she refused to cower in response.
“Stop your fraternizing and come along. Can’t you see that we’re waiting for you?” Pivoting, the woman stalked down the trail toward the wagons, not even bothering to give Mr. O’Leary an appreciative look for his labor and not thinking enough to pass one last look at her brother’s grave.
“Thank you for your hard work, Mr. O’Leary.” Hope peered up at the man, deciding that although he was a little rough around the edges he seemed harmless enough.
“Glad to do it.” He looped his arms into his pack and tugged his shovel out of the dirt. “It’s my job.”
Turning, Hope made her way down the trail. She caught Aaron’s gaze fixed on her as if he’d been watching for a long while. Had he sent Jane up to get her? He’d seemed completely oblivious to the woman’s spiteful ways.
When she’d almost reached the cluster of mourners, Aaron came to meet her and guided her toward his wagon. My family, as well as a few others, will be coming over in a little while with plenty of fixings for a meal. I hope you don’t mind the lot of us barging in on you, but this is how we do it here in Boulder.”
“That’s perfectly fine.” She managed a dim smile as she maneuvered through the tall grass. “As soon as we get there, I’ll do what I can to get things prepared.”
He shook his head. “You won’t be doing anything, Hope. That’s what the others will be there for.” He came to a stop and stared down at her as if to enforce his point.
“Until the past twenty hours, these people had no idea that I existed. To be counted among family now,” she reasoned, thinking about how Jane clearly viewed her as an outsider, “is a bit uncomfortable.” And to have Aaron telling her what to do settled over her with equal unpleasantness. Besides, she would rather busy herself than to field the questions she was sure would come her way—just like with Mr. O’Leary.
How did you and Paul meet? How long had you corresponded? When were you to wed? And most inevitably, why had Paul not told us about you?
“Paul obviously didn’t view you as an outsider,” Aaron argued.
“Please. It’s not that I don’t appreciate your consideration—” she tugged on the strong thread of gracious manners that had been woven into her from the time she was young “—but I would feel better if I could be helping.”
For a long moment, Aaron peered down at her as though taking her full measure. Yesterday she’d refused his apathetic proposal of marriage. Honorable, though it may be, seeing as how this man considered it his job to make decisions for her, declining his hand was a very wise decision—just like breaking off her engagement with Jonas had been.
“Aaron,” Ben called, motioning him to the other side of the grassy knoll, “Jane’s going to need your help here.”
Hope followed in Aaron’s wake, lifting the skirts of her cobalt-blue dress as she picked her way around the tender spring flowers that had poked through the soil. She hadn’t dreamed she’d need traditional mourning attire upon her arrival, and her lack of it only seemed to irritate Jane further. Paul’s sister had scanned her up and down not once but several times today, as though to make some silent barbed statement.
“She says she’s feeling pretty weak,” Ben commented, his voice low and measured. When he slid a cautious gaze to Hope, she couldn’t miss the hint of apology there.
“Oh, I am, Aaron. Very weak. I’m so glad you’re here.” Jane’s breathy whisper filtered to Hope. The woman threw herself into Aaron’s arms—almost.
When he sidestepped to gain his balance, Hope stifled a gasp. But she could hardly fault the woman for being given to exceptional outbursts of emotion after suffering such shock.
“You are a great strength to me. I’m sure that Paul would offer his gratitude if he was—” Jane’s eyes suddenly pooled with fresh tears. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Aaron. Honestly, you are meant for me.”
He passed a disconcerted glance to Ben, his throat convulsing as though he’d just swallowed a small horse. He stared down at where Jane had circled her arms around his chest and burrowed her cheek into his dark gray vest. “Well, I, uh…I’m glad to help.”
“Thank you,” Jane whispered, one side of her thin lips lifting in what looked to Hope like a triumphant grin.
Clearing his throat, Aaron pried her arms loose and took one sizable step away from her. “Don’t you think we should probably go since the others will be coming soon?”
“Yes, of course. You’re right, as always, Aaron.” The way Jane latched onto Aaron and led the way, Hope half wondered if she was making a silent claim. The icy look she sent Hope could’ve frozen one of the yellow spring blooms dotting the grassy knoll within seconds and furthered her suspicion.
“We’ll be right behind you to help with the meal, Hope. Don’t you worry about a thing,” Ben’s wife, Callie, called as she took her husband’s hand and climbed into their wagon.
Hope waved and trailed behind Jane and Aaron, watching as Jane nearly sprinted the last few feet to claim a seat at the front of the wagon, not even bothering to wait for assistance.
“You’ll have to sit in the back again, Hope. There’s just not room up here. You won’t mind, will you?” She gave Hope a sickeningly sweet look, her face all pinched in apology as she took great care spreading out her skirts as though decorating an elaborate layered cake.
Hope struggled to prevent her disbelief from making its way to an all-out expression. “Of course, I don’t mind.”
With a firm but gentle touch, Aaron easily lifted her into the wagon and then took his own seat next to Jane. When Jane clasped a possessive hand over Aaron’s muscular arm, Hope determined that Paul’s sister was definitely marking her territory. As far as Hope was concerned, Jane could have the man. But being a woman of principle, the fact that Jane was being so nasty about the whole thing just didn’t sit right.
Once Aaron had the wagon headed down the road, he glanced at her with a concern-filled look. “Are you sure you don’t mind all of us coming to your house for a gather—”
“Paul’s house,” Jane corrected darting her attention to Aaron then back at Hope. “It’s Paul’s house.”
Hope determined to find some common ground on which to stand with Jane if this day was going to be anything more than horrible. “I’m sure that Paul would’ve wanted it that way.”
Jane twisted in her seat. “Excuse me for saying so, but honestly, how would you know what Paul would’ve wanted?” She narrowed her hazel-eyed gaze and pursed her thin lips, making them nearly disappear. “You never even met him.”
“I—I just thought that Paul, being as kind-hearted and giving as he was—”
“Yes he was, wasn’t he? So generous that he gave you his estate.”
“Jane,” Aaron admonished.
“It’s all right, Aaron,” Hope placated. “She’s had a very difficult day.”
Jane’s shrewd expression suddenly turned sorrowful just like that. “Oh, I’m just so beside myself with grief. My dear, dear brother Paul…dead,” she sobbed, hugging her arms to her chest and dabbing at her eyes.
Surely, this woman couldn’t be so shallow as to exercise such pettiness—especially at a time like this. Hope would love to give her the benefit of the doubt, but she’d deny her own intelligence in doing so. Instead, Hope reminded herself that she was irrevocably connected to this woman, and although she couldn’t help feeling incredulous at Jane’s flagrant show of melodramatics, she must be as gracious as humanly possible.
Aaron gave Jane’s arm a brief squeeze, bringing a peculiar stop to the lamenting. “Why don’t you decide where you think we should have the gathering? How does that sound?”
Jane sniffled. Dabbed at her eyes. Hiccupped. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
After several moments of silence, the woman sniffled once again as if for good measure. She stared up at Aaron, her shapeless loglike eyebrows bunched inward. “I know my brother better than anyone. Why don’t we all gather at Paul’s home?” she announced, as though the idea was brand new. “I’m sure he would have wanted it that way.”
Hope nearly bit clear through her tongue. She couldn’t imagine how a woman could be so petty—especially at a time like this. Determined to stay strong, she silently conceded that Paul’s sister would be no help at all. Hope was in this alone.
Chapter Five
Aaron watched from the front room as Hope made her way to the small spare bedroom to put her shawl away. His throat grew tight as she passed by Paul’s bedroom, pausing momentarily and peering inside, her slender hand curled around the etched metal doorknob. She quietly closed the door and entered the room across the hallway.
She’d been stalwart all day long, from the time he’d dragged himself from the hayloft early this morning to take care of the chores until now, when at least two dozen people she didn’t even know were set to arrive. And she’d been so patient with Jane.
It’d taken Aaron by surprise, the downright rude way Jane responded to Hope about the gathering on the ride here. Paul had mentioned that Jane could be testy, but Aaron had never seen that side of her.
Ever since his wife and baby’s death, Jane had been the picture of neighborly support. She’d shown up at least once a week at the wood shop, a basket laden with baked goods hanging from her arm. She’d even brought a noontime meal by on several occasions. Aaron had been grateful for the offerings, but he’d never seen them as anything more than kindly gestures.
Now he wasn’t so sure—especially with the way Jane had taken to clinging to him like mud to a pig.
Hope had held her own with Jane. Oddly enough, that had struck a chord of satisfaction and pride in his heart, but still he felt compelled to watch over the situation. He’d dropped Jane off at her house on the edge of Paul’s property, hoping that a little rest before the meal was served would remove the woman’s sharp edge. Although Hope had smoothed over Jane’s rudeness today with understanding—a surprising trait, given her fancy ways and attire—he hadn’t missed the way embarrassment had colored Hope’s fair cheeks when Jane had glared at her earlier today as she’d climbed aboard the buckboard in her bright blue dress.
As far as Aaron was concerned, it shouldn’t matter a lick what color a person wore to a funeral. And frankly he didn’t think God much cared, either. What mattered most in Aaron’s book was honoring life. Paul’s life had been honored today—that was certain. It was honored by his friends and neighbors who’d recalled his kindness and acts of mercy and also by this woman he’d been set to wed. She’d honored him in the quiet strength she’d shown in the face of a difficult set of circumstances, in the gracious way she’d answered questions from some of the townsfolk earlier and in the patient way she’d endured Jane’s near-tantrum this morning when Aaron and Ben had informed Jane of Paul’s deathbed decisions.
But life had only just begun for Hope here. There was plenty to be done, and the complete naivety she’d shown around Paul’s cattle was proof enough that she didn’t have the first idea about farm life. Aaron couldn’t imagine her continuing on with such poise and courage when faced with milking the cows or digging her hands into the soil.
He’d help her out and keep an eye on the situation with Jane because he’d promised and because it was the right thing to do. But he’d do so with as minimal contact with Hope as possible because for some reason he couldn’t keep his thoughts from straying straight to her.
Last night when he’d finally nestled into the hayloft to sleep he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about the way Hope had saved that barn kitten from sure death, the way she’d kept her calm, the way she’d said, “Excuse me,” to the cattle as she made her way through their midst and the way she’d met Aaron’s concern with such innocence and determination in her gaze.
“Well, where is she?” Katie, his brother Joseph’s wife, asked, intruding on Aaron’s thoughts. Thankfully.
“Who?” He hadn’t even heard Katie and Joseph enter the house.
“Hope. That’s who. I met her at the funeral. She’s a dear.” Katie peered at him as though he’d spoken some foreign language. “Is she all right?”
Concern for her rose within him just as fast as a rainstorm in the mountains. “What do you—”
“There you are.” Katie crossed to meet Hope as she entered the room and set a stack of dishes down on the table. “How are you doing after everything?”
“I’m fine.” The faint smile on Hope’s face was far from convincing and strummed another unexpected chord of compassion in Aaron’s heart. “I was just freshening up.” He gave her a quick once-over. She hadn’t looked disheveled when they’d arrived home. In fact, she still looked picture perfect.
It was the exact opposite of the windblown, no-fuss, natural way Ellie had always been.
“I thought that perhaps we could use some of the dishes I brought from home for the gathering today,” she said as she glanced back at the fine china. “I just unpacked them.”
Was Hope putting on airs? Was she intent on impressing the lot of folks here with her obvious trappings of wealth? Folks here weren’t so easily awed. Oh, maybe some of the ladies would fawn over the flourish of it all, but most folks put more stock in hard work, endurance and good living.
Katie strode right past surface pleasantries and encircled Hope in a hug. The rigid way Hope had held her shoulders back and head high all day seemed to lessen some, and for that Aaron was thankful. “I think the dishes will be a lovely touch to the gathering, Hope. Thank you for offering them.”
As much as he was uncomfortable with this whole situation, he couldn’t bear seeing her try so hard to be strong. He was worn out just watching her and was intent on making sure she rested throughout the gathering.
“Hope, I want you to meet my husband, Joseph.” Katie glanced over her shoulder at Joseph.
“I’m sorry about your loss, ma’am. Please accept my condolences.” He stepped closer and held his hand out to Hope. “Paul was a good man. He’ll be missed.”
Hope hesitated for a moment then took his hand as though suddenly aware that Joseph was unable to see. “Thank you. It does come as quite a shock.”
Joseph had been without his sight for almost a year now. Aaron had encouraged him that he’d done a remarkable job adapting, but Joseph would funnel all of the credit to his wife, who’d initially come to Boulder as his teacher.
“I want to assure you that I’ll do without that brother of mine as much as I can so that he can be here with you.” Joseph gently draped his arm over his wife’s shoulders, the clear look of self-satisfaction pricking Aaron’s ire.
Be here with her?
Why would he say that? Sure as shootin’, he could’ve come up with something else to say. Aaron could only hope that Joseph felt the annoyance he was aiming in his direction.
“Oh, it won’t be necessary for him to miss work.” Hope’s brow furrowed slightly. “I’m sure I’ll be able to manage. I already informed Aaron as much.”
Katie sidled up next to Hope. “Don’t look a gifted horse in the mouth, my dear.”
“That’s a gift horse.” Joseph chuckled.
“The horse could be gifted, too, I suppose,” Aaron added watching as Joseph pulled his wife close and gave her a hug.
“You two…” Katie melted into her husband’s embrace. “You knew what I meant.”
Aaron was glad for Joseph’s happiness, but whenever he witnessed the love that Joseph and Katie shared, his own loss seemed to grow deeper and stronger, like a stubborn root. Time hadn’t healed his heart, as some well-meaning folks had assured him. Instead it had exaggerated the pain. Someday, maybe, he wouldn’t be plagued with the familiar ache, but never again would he love.
The idea that he’d almost entered into marriage yesterday made his heart lurch to a grinding halt. What had he been thinking?
He’d been thinking like a Drake, that’s what. Honor your word. Let loyalty and right-living be your trademark.
He could be grateful until his dying day that Hope had been good enough to turn him down.
“As I was saying,” Katie began again, “Aaron will be a great help. Besides, Joseph has been talking about hiring on another craftsman.”
“What kind of gossip am I missing out on?” Zach edged into the gathering, standing beside Aaron as he slid Katie a playful wink.
“Don’t you go winking at my wife, Zach,” Joseph warned. “Do you hear?”
Zach waggled his eyebrows at the lot of them. “And how would you know I did that?”
“Because that’s what you always do. You’re predictable,” Joseph added with a grin.
Zach grabbed at his chest, winking at Hope this time. “You wound me, Joseph. Predictable? No man wants to be thought of as predictable.”
“We know you up one side and down another.” Joseph chuckled. “Face it. You’ve got the cowboy nod and wink down to a science. You could teach a class on it at Boulder College—that is, if they offered such things.”
“Ben, Joseph and Aaron like to accuse Zach of being the quintessential ladies’ man,” Katie explained to Hope.
She turned an amused expression on Zach and studied him for a long moment. “Perhaps they underestimate you?” The warmth of her smile made the air suddenly seem unbearably stuffy.
Aaron pulled at his collar. If there was one thing he didn’t want to do, it was give his brothers any kind of weakness to pounce on. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them, but with the way they’d acted yesterday about Hope, he couldn’t help but feel like they were pushing for something that could never be—plain and simple.
“Now there’s a smart woman,” Zach proclaimed, sweeping his Stetson from his head and making a grand bow toward Hope. “I’m barely acquainted with her and already she knows me better than my own flesh and blood.”
On a sigh, Aaron gave his head a shake. “My family. I can always count on them to be welcoming to strangers and to make awkward situations more comfortable.”
Like now. Hope had to be overwhelmed by everything she’d gone through the past day. He doubted she was eager to have a houseful of strangers, but at least his family would be here to buffer the discomfort of it all.
And there was Jane to consider. She would need support.
Besides, he and his brothers had all agreed that, though they’d like to put it off for another time, they’d have to talk with Hope at some point today about the farm—how she wanted to handle things, what kind of chore schedule they could work out and if she was considering hiring a farmhand.
If that was the case then no man would work for her unless he passed to Aaron’s satisfaction. Even then he would insist on closely guarding the situation. A woman like Hope—beautiful, helpless and alone—would be a dark-minded man’s dream.
“I just figure if I keep my contact with the ladies to a harmless wink here or there then I don’t have to worry about stuttering.” Zach jammed his hat back on his head. “Although, thank the good Lord I hardly ever have a problem with it anymore.”
“Are we missing out on something?” Ben asked as he closed the door behind his family, Callie—his wife of six months—and her seven-year-old daughter, Libby.
“Uncle Aaron, Uncle Aaron,” Libby squealed as she ran the short distance and jumped into Aaron’s arms.
“Well, hello there, Libby-Loo.” He gave her a big hug.
Callie had shown up on Ben’s doorstep last October, wanting a job. Little did they all know that this stranger was their brother Max’s widow. Having endured seven years of abuse and suffering at Max’s hands, Callie had sought Ben out, per Max’s dying words, as a last resort. Aaron gulped past the lump that always formed in his throat whenever he thought of the situation and how she’d been reunited with her daughter from Max after he’d used the child, a newborn at the time, to pay off a gambling debt. He’d lied to Callie, saying that the baby had died just as Callie had passed out with the final birthing push. God had definitely redeemed many a heartache.
“I been missing you, Uncle Aaron.” Libby wrapped him up in a gigantic hug then pulled away and held his face between her small hands. “You have to come see the new kitty Papa brought home. She’s real pretty.”
“Really? A new kitty, huh?” Aaron glanced at Hope, thinking about the helpless yellow tabby she’d rescued.
With the way Hope was gazing at him, her eyes full and bright and laden with enchantment, he couldn’t seem to look away. He didn’t know what was getting into him. Why did he seem so captivated by her?
“Uncle Aaron, did you hear me?” Libby tugged his head to square his focus with hers. “I said the kitty is all white. Like a bride. Like Mama was when she married Papa.”
“Oh, how sweet,” Hope whispered.
Libby twisted in Aaron’s arms and peered at Hope, as if noticing her for the first time. She wiggled out of his hold and went to stand in front of Hope. “You’re a pretty lady.”
Hope’s cheeks suddenly flushed to pink as she clasped her slender hands together in front of her. “Why, thank you. Might I say that you are a very pretty girl.”
A sweet smile spread across Libby’s face as she studied Hope. “I like your blue dress. Mama said that Miss Jane thought your dress was too blue, but I—”
“Libby.” Bending over, Callie whispered something in the girl’s ear.
Libby tucked her chin a notch. “Well, I think it’s very pretty. Don’t you, Uncle Aaron?” She peered up at him.
Heat instantly infused his cheeks. He brushed his hand down his arm, dusting imaginary dirt from his sleeve.
“Uncle Aaron, you’re not listening to me.” Libby furrowed her brow in that adorable way of hers that always tugged at Aaron’s heartstrings.
“Yes, the dress is very nice. Beautiful.” He set his gaze just over Hope’s shoulder, but even out of the corner of his vision he caught a whisper of vulnerability cross her face.
If he looked at her now, straight in the eyes, she might be able to see the way his soul had suddenly begun churning with the smallest bit of tenderness, attraction.
He was being ridiculous. He was as silly as a smitten schoolboy. He’d been widowed for ten months. He’d not spared any woman a single glance. So why would he now? Aaron struggled to pull himself together as he wondered what had gotten into him.
“You have a lovely dress, too. Pink is such a charming color—just like you.” Hope nodded at Libby with a fair amount of fancy manners. Which probably went far with Libby seeing as how the girl considered herself an expert in ladylike ways.
The way Libby perched her hands in front of her in the same manner as Hope provoked a few light chuckles from his family.
“My name’s Libby.” She reached out and fingered Hope’s satin dress. “What’s your name?”
She knelt and met Libby, eye to eye. “Hope.”
Hope. Aaron’s promise once again unfurled in his mind like a heralding banner. He’d like to just roll it up and stuff it away, but try as he might, he couldn’t seem to catch the thing and bring it back.
“I like your name. Hope. Mama and Papa say that we should always have hope.” She turned and looked at Ben and Callie, her earnest expression melting Aaron’s heart. “Don’t you?”
“Yes, we do,” Ben answered on a wink. He pulled a hand over his mouth as though to wipe off a grin. “We’re all for hope.”
Aaron couldn’t feel any more cornered than he did right now. Ben, Zach, Joseph, Callie and Katie.…
At least sweet little Libby hadn’t forsaken him.
Just then Libby peered back at Hope, reached out and took her hand. “So I guess that means you’re gonna be part of our family.”
Hope yawned as long and wide as she imagined humanly possible. Five o’clock in the morning was far earlier than she was accustomed to rising, but after Aaron and his brothers had set her down yesterday and noted the numerous chores and details of the farm for her, she was quite certain that this ghastly hour wouldn’t be nearly early enough.
All night long she’d been deliberating the enormous changes in her life and had just nodded off when a loud cackling call from outside her window had pierced her slumber. Once again, she peered out the bedroom window, watching as the large chestnut-colored rooster strutted as pretty as you please, right underneath her opened window. With one eye aimed her way, he stared up at her as if to get a glimpse of the newcomer.
She tugged her long white opera gloves on as far as they would go, adjusted her pale green silk dress, then drew her shawl around her shoulders and walked out to the barn. Her warm breath fanned out in a ghostlike cloud into early morning, the hint of purple, pink and orange hanging on the horizon, heralding the day. When she opened the barn door, an earthy, not exactly unpleasant, scent met her square in the face. Holding a lantern before her, she stepped inside, the dim light lapping up the darkness in warm, gentle waves.
The crude dwelling closed her in but not so that she felt unsafe. Holding the lantern high, she looked the barn over, noticing the sturdiness and how solid and thick the beams were that endured the weight.
Just then a shifting sound came from somewhere up ahead. Then it came again followed by a low groan.
She froze on the spot and slid her gaze to the left where the noise originated. When another low groan met her, she nearly dropped the lantern.
Her heart pounded hard and fast inside her chest as she scanned the dwelling. She held her breath, images of a mountain lion leaping from the shadows and pouncing on her flashing through her mind. The hair on her neck stood on end. With needlelike claws, fear pierced deep, delving into her peace, her mind, her composure.
The noise came again followed by a distinctive mooing sound.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Hope sighed in the most unladylike way she’d ever permitted herself. “It’s only a cow.”
She was being silly. Aaron had cautioned her on many issues, but milking the cow had not been counted among them. There was nothing to fear. Right?
In truth, she could find trepidation in nearly every place she looked. But if she let fear guide her thoughts, she might not have the fortitude to manage on her own. Growing up in a wealthy Boston family, she’d never been exposed to farm animals except for the horses that had pulled their carriages to and fro. She’d often begged for a cat or a dog to love, but her mother had refused, noting that animals belonged in the country.
Willing one foot in front of the other, she followed a generously large, dirt-packed corridor to a stall where a fat brown cow stood, its tail swishing from side to side as it chewed on something. It peered over at her, its big brown eyes looking no more malicious than its thin, long tail looked like a weapon.
“Now, then, aren’t you a fine-looking cow?” She willed her pulse to even out.
Nonplussed by her greeting, the creature continued chewing in a slow and lazy way.
She opened the latch to the wood-plank half door and squeezed inside, quickly closing it behind her. Although this four-legged being seemed docile enough, Hope couldn’t be sure that, given the opportunity, it might not escape. And she definitely didn’t fancy the idea of chasing it about the farm yard.
“You must be the cow I’m going to milk this morning.”
The beast sighed, its warm breath hanging like a peaceful mist in the crude stable. Aaron had cautioned her never to stare into the eyes of a bull, but he’d obviously never met this cow.
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Pamela Nissen
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Rocky Mountain Proposal, электронная книга автора Pamela Nissen на английском языке, в жанре современная зарубежная литература