A Bride at Last (23 page)

“I wish the farm would’ve been in better shape when you came so I didn’t need so much help, but I’m thankful you’ve pitched in.” Though he’d moaned and groaned. “I wish I could make things better for you. Perhaps—”

“Is Miss Dawson coming?”

So that’s what would make things better for him? Silas’s chest tightened. “I’m not sure. But if not, it isn’t because she doesn’t want to for your sake. I’m positive of that.”

“You think she might not come because of you?” Anthony’s glare was piercing.

He tried not to fidget under the glare of a nine-year-old. “Maybe. But it could be for some other reason. She—”

“Even after you kissed her like that?”

Silas winced. His kiss had fired up an attraction he hadn’t been completely aware of and, at nine years old, Anthony appeared to expect a wedding would take place after he’d kissed Kate like that.

“Or maybe because I
did
kiss her like that.” What had he been thinking? With Kate’s reputation on rocky ground, how could he have kissed her in front of everybody? Was the school board disciplining her for poor public conduct at this very moment?

No wonder she’d basically told him no.

Anthony’s frown looked about as heavy as the half muffin in Silas’s gut. Should he stoke up the boy’s hope? His own? “She hasn’t written yet, so we’ll wait to see what she says.”

“Well, if she does come, she won’t want to sleep on the floor.”

Silas frowned at his wadded-up bedding he could just see through the bedroom door and clamped a hand against the heat in his neck. And he thought only women could blush instantaneously. “No, she wouldn’t.” And sleeping on the floor would likely start the list of things Kate wouldn’t care for around the place.

“Well, I hope she comes.” Anthony downed the last of his milk and walked out.

Silas nodded at the boy, but he wasn’t sure he agreed. If she wrote, he’d have to admit what the coming winter would hold for them all. And with that information, as smart as she was, she’d not go through with a wedding.

He shouldn’t do anything to encourage her, for her own good.

Chapter 15

Chewing on her lip, Kate walked out of the post office. She’d written Anthony, asking him to let her know that he’d arrived safely, but the envelope she now held had Silas’s name on the return address.

Would it contain a letter full of feelings for her? The memory of his kiss played havoc with her capacity for rational thought.

But if he brought up marriage again as if he were arranging for a nanny . . .

She’d tried to write him, had even taken out her stationery a few times, but couldn’t. The only questions that came to mind were why he’d kissed her, how he’d felt while kissing her, and whether he dreamed about kissing her again as much as she did. Very unladylike and inappropriate questions. And if he felt nothing much for her, how silly she’d sound.

For days she’d grappled with what to do despite having a whole school year to decide. Should she forget him, write him, go now, go later, go never? All this thinking! She’d always trusted her gut before, but hindsight proved her gut to be a sorry counselor. But her logic wasn’t helping much either, because her heart fought against every impartial argument.

Being a mail-order bride had been scary but it was nothing close to this. Knowing what she did about Silas, she wanted a marriage between them to work. So much so, she hadn’t slept well trying to figure out if it would.

God, if only you would tell me yes or no. When Silas kissed me, I felt that I . . . I belonged with him, but maybe
it’s just because I wanted to be with him, not because I should be.

What woman wouldn’t want to be kissed like that again? But his previous wife had left him, he had an addiction to alcohol, and he’d not come from a good background.

All excuses. Marrying anyone would be scary, but a man she’d only known for a few weeks . . . ? She’d chosen poorly before—could she know if she was choosing poorly again?

Slipping a finger beneath the flap, she tore open the envelope. Would Silas ask her why she hadn’t written him? Or had he thought better of his spur-of-the-moment proposal and wrote to rescind his offer? At least that would end her indecision.

“Miss Dawson?” The superintendent maneuvered around a young boy skipping on the sidewalk. He stopped in front of her, his frown deepening as he stared at her.

“Are you all right, Mr. Kingfisher?” She’d never seen his skin so sallow. He looked as if someone had died or he was about to die himself.

He cleared his throat. “I am not.”

She glanced both to her left and right. Surely someone else should help him. “Do you want me to find your wife or a doctor?”

“Unfortunately, neither would help me with what I have to do.” He held out a hand toward a bench in front of the toy store. “Let’s get out of people’s way.”

Her heart slammed into her throat. Was she the reason for his disgruntled appearance? If so, there was no possibility of
this talk ending well. But she’d been a model teacher since Anthony left. No socializing, clean corners, well-performing students. She’d done everything right.

When he gestured toward the seat again, she shook her head.

“It’s likely you’ll want to sit, Miss Dawson.”

She lowered herself onto the slats, one loose enough she didn’t trust it to hold her weight, just like she didn’t trust she’d leave this conversation unscathed.

“Have you been courting?”

“What?”

“Courting.” Mr. Kingfisher said the word slower, as if she didn’t understand.

“No.” She swallowed against the film that had taken over her throat. Could a rumor take her down?

“Mrs. Logan just now told me you’ve been considering a marriage proposal from Mr. Jonesey.”

She blinked. Considering, yes, but . . . “I wasn’t courted by Mr. Jonesey. And he’s gone now.”

Her fingers trembled as she gripped Silas’s letter. Could she put it behind her back without calling attention to his name? She flipped the envelope over in her lap without taking her gaze off Mr. Kingfisher.

“So he didn’t propose to you?”

She wouldn’t lie. “He did.”

“I heard from more than one person that he kissed you in plain view of everyone at the train depot the day he left.”

She kept her gaze on his. She wouldn’t be ashamed of something she hadn’t asked for . . . no matter how much she’d enjoyed it.

Mr. Kingfisher slapped his hat lightly against his trousers, shaking his head. “I cannot understand how a woman whose situation with the board is as precarious as yours would carry on with a man in front of the whole town. Beginning with
spending all that unchaperoned time in the guise of looking for a boy—”

“‘In the
guise
of’!”

“And now accepting marriage offers.”

“Accepting?”

“And kissing in broad daylight.”

She pressed her lips together. She could tell him she hadn’t wanted to be kissed, but that wasn’t the truth—she hadn’t expected to be, but not wanting it? She’d definitely wanted to be kissed. The thrill of emotions Silas created in her on the depot platform flared up again, making her flush right in front of her boss.

Mr. Kingfisher was right. Seeing a couple kiss like that in the middle of a crowd would’ve shocked her too.

“I know that might seem as if I was trying to defy the school board’s wishes—”

“You are causing me too much grief, Miss Dawson. You might have an excuse, but frankly, dear, you’ve made my job exasperating. Whether you call it courting or not, that’s what you did and are therefore in violation of your contract. Consider yourself relieved of your duties. You may continue to work until the end of the week unless you don’t feel as if you can conduct yourself maturely.”

“But you can’t—”

“Please.” He held out a hand. “No one, Miss Dawson, would believe that kind of public spectacle is socially acceptable for an unmarried woman.”

“I—” She cleared her throat trying to loosen her restricted vocal cords. “I—”

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I’ve already consulted with the other board members, and since you didn’t deny the kiss, we are severing your contract.”

Her hot cheeks turned to ice. If she’d slapped Silas, she might
not be having this discussion. But she’d pulled him closer, relishing the warmth he’d created all the way down into her toes, which now instantly reheated her cheeks.

“We’ve decided to allow you the dignity of resigning.” He gave her a wobbly smile. “It’ll make things easier on everyone.”

“I—” Since her voice seemed unable to create anything but one short syllable, she gave up and nodded.

“Very well then, Miss Dawson—I’m relieved. Please turn in your resignation tomorrow, if you would.” He stood and nodded to a passerby. After giving Kate a curt nod, he left her alone on the bench.

She sniffed hard to keep the tears and the anger back. Releasing her grip on her now-crumpled envelope, she pulled out the letter and scanned the contents, a short note written in Anthony’s hand. No postscript from Silas begging her to say yes . . . or explaining he’d changed his mind. Nowhere in Anthony’s tightly bunched letters did he mention his father, just assured her he’d arrived in Kansas safely.

She let the letter fall into her lap and tipped her head back against the toy store wall. Nothing tied her to Breton anymore, and the only people she cared about were in Kansas.

Well, had she not asked God for an indication of what to do? Her job was gone, and the Logans wouldn’t want to continue housing her. Whether she wanted to or not, she’d have to make another quick decision in regards to a marriage of convenience without knowing what the man behind the proposal really wanted.

And since she wanted to say yes, to believe things had happened for a reason . . .

God, I’m going to work off the fact I asked you to provide me with a yes or no, and I’ve definitely got a no to teaching. So since the only other option I’ve been
considering is Silas . . .

Seemed like she needed to figure out what to write.

“Anthony.” Silas gave his son a firm look—one he had to use more and more if he wanted the boy to obey. Was the boy testing him or was Silas failing at this parenting thing? Anthony got more stubborn every day, even after he’d been allowed to return to school.

Anthony rolled his eyes but climbed down from the wagon. After Silas hitched his team, he circled around to find Anthony hadn’t gone into the post office as asked.

The boy stood, arms crossed, staring up at the building as if Silas intended to drag him inside and throw him into a prison cell.

“Why can’t I wait outside?” Anthony muttered.

Silas flipped up his coat’s collar to ward off the wind. “It’s too cold, remember?” At least that was Anthony’s excuse for refusing to go to the creek, explore the farm, or anything else Silas encouraged him to do after he’d finished his chores. He’d even offered to let him keep a snake if he could find one in this weather, but his son hadn’t budged. The day Kate’s letter came— asking only if they’d arrived safely, with no hint of her planning to follow—Anthony had started sulking.

Likely the boy blamed him for her not coming to Kansas. Though if he’d never proposed, Anthony wouldn’t have hoped.

Regardless of being a fool, he wouldn’t let Anthony continue to ignore him. They had to start doing things together besides chores.

He didn’t have any toys or games, but surely he needed to provide his child with more than the three books he owned. He’d ordered a chess set, but in the meantime, Anthony could learn how to play with the bachelors who gathered in the post office for chess matches on Fridays. Perhaps Anthony would
loosen up around the others. Plus they hadn’t been in town all week, and Anthony was anxious to see if Kate had written another letter.

As for himself, he wasn’t sure he wanted Kate to write again. Life was difficult enough trying to figure out how to live with one person who didn’t love him.

“Are you coming in?” Anthony’s voice held a hint of sarcasm as he stood on the threshold, letting the wind whip into the post office.

“You go on.”

Anthony shoved at the door with a huff and disappeared inside.

Silas wiped his clammy hands against his coat. Maybe he should write Kate and tell her he’d made a mistake. He’d been reckless, out of his mind.

If only the feel of her in his arms hadn’t . . .

He blew out a breath, trying to rid his face of the warmth that had taken up permanent residence in his cheeks. He needed to stop reliving that kiss every hour or so. He’d held a woman in his arms before—more intimately than for a mere kiss. But the flames that engulfed him whenever he thought of kissing Kate—

“What are you doing standing out here?” Lynville Tate stomped past him, headed for the post office door.

“Nothing.” Besides going crazy. Silas lunged forward, caught the door, and forced himself inside. A gust of the north wind slammed it behind him.

The postmaster, Jedidiah Langston, grimaced. “Would you mind not breaking the door?”

Silas shook his head. “Sorry.” He needed to stop thinking about Kate and focus on what he was doing. Focus on Anthony.