Heartland Wedding (16 page)

Struggling to keep her smile genuine, Rebecca released a pent-up breath. “You have excellent timing, Clint. Do come in.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” He slapped his hat against his thigh, the gesture sending up a cloud of dust.

Rebecca stifled a cough and stepped out of his way. He must have rushed over as soon as his chores were complete. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No. Do you have any extra?”

She tried not to grin at the eagerness in his voice. “Of course. Have a seat at the table over there.”

After a short hesitation, he complied, tossing his large frame in the closest chair. He slumped in a lazy posture that wasn’t exactly suitable for mixed company.

Sighing, Rebecca heaped food onto a plate and then set it on the table in front of him. “Eat while I get Mrs. Jennings.”

He leaned forward and took a big whiff. “Smells good.”

She handed him a fork.

Placing his elbows on the table, he attacked the meal as though he was in a timed eating contest. She’d never seen such…enthusiasm for her cooking.

When his lips made a smacking noise between bites, Rebecca cringed. Clearly, she would have to begin with basic table manners, but not until Mrs. Jennings joined them. “I’ll be right back.”

She hurried out of the kitchen and met Mrs. Jennings halfway through the parlor.

“Is he here?” the other woman asked.

“Yes.” Rebecca fell into step with her former landlady. “I left him digging into a plate of food. And when I say digging, I mean
digging.
”

“Good grief.” Mrs. Jennings picked up the pace.

Rebecca trotted after her, nearly colliding into the woman when she halted just inside the kitchen doorway. “
Mr. Fuller.
What on earth are you—” She cut herself off and began again. “That is, I see you’re enjoying your dinner.”

“That’s an understatement,” Rebecca muttered.

The cowboy was still leaning on the table and shoveling food in his mouth as fast as he could. “It’s good.” He swiped his sleeve across his mouth. “
Really
good.”

Rebecca shuddered to think what other bad habits the man possessed. She could easily see where Clint could use a little—or rather,
a lot
—of refinement.

Oh, Lord, help me. I have no idea why You’ve brought this man to Mrs. Jennings and me, but You’ve certainly given us an interesting task. And I mean what I say. Help!

“Well, Rebecca.” Mrs. Jennings gave her an amused look. “I think table manners are an excellent place to start.”

“Yes, indeed.”

Clint ignored them both as he dragged a biscuit through a pool of gravy and then shoved the whole thing in his mouth. He proceeded to chew, for an entire two seconds, then swallowed.

Rebecca blinked in horror. Was he breathing between bites?

“Go on, dear.” Mrs. Jennings nudged her forward. “Get to work.”

Rebecca opened her mouth to speak, but her brother’s voice cut her off.

“Two more diners just showed up.” Edward poked his head through the doorway. “Oh. Clint.” He moved fully into the kitchen. “Didn’t know you were here.”

“I was just…” Clint’s face reddened. “Eating.”

“Then why aren’t you in the dining room?” Edward asked.

Before Clint could respond, Mrs. Jennings planted her hands on Edward’s shoulders and pushed him toward the back door.

“Now, that’s none of your business, Edward Gundersen.” She pushed harder than necessary and he stumbled. “See? You can’t even walk on your own without missing a step. You should be in your bed over at the livery, resting.”

Edward dug in his heels. “
I
can determine if I need rest.”

“Then start determining.” Mrs. Jennings shoved him again. “Or I’ll do it for you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m leaving.” He started for the back door, then stopped again. “Hey, Rebecca. Don’t forget to serve Percival and that pretty schoolteacher with him.”

“Get back to the livery.” Mrs. Jennings banged the door shut in his face.

“Did Edward say Cassandra’s here?” Clint’s chair scraped backward and then tumbled to the floor with a loud bang. “With Percival Walker? She’s really having dinner with that obnoxious priss?”

Not waiting for a response, he pushed his head past the doorway that Edward had just come through.

“Look at that fool.” His voice was filled with masculine outrage. “He’s wearing one of those citified suits, and in the middle of summer, no less.”

The man’s bitter tone had Rebecca looking at Mrs. Jennings with raised eyebrows. The woman lifted hers in return. “I take it you don’t like Mr. Walker?” she asked.

He flicked his wrist in dismissal. “Would you look at that? He just wiped his seat with a handkerchief. Like I said, a priss. And look at
that.
He didn’t pull out Cassandra’s chair for her. Even I know better.”

Mrs. Jennings’s eyebrows lifted higher. “I think he has his eye on Zeb Garrison’s sister.”

“Yeah, so what?” he flung over his shoulder. “Who wouldn’t? She’s smart, beautiful and…and…mannerly.”

“Nothing wrong with his hearing,” Mrs. Jennings said out of the corner of her mouth.

Rebecca ignored the comment and joined Clint at the doorway. She tugged him slowly back into the kitchen and gently directed him toward the table once more.

Sighing in defeat, he righted the fallen chair and then collapsed with a whoosh. “I ain’t got no chance against a man like Percival Walker.” He picked up his fork and began drawing circles through the remainder of his food. “He’s too rich and mannerly and, well,
rich.
”

Rebecca grimaced. “Cassandra has never seemed to me like a woman who cares about money.”

“Yeah, well, she does.” He tossed the fork onto the table and frowned.

“You know this for a fact?”

He gave a helpless shrug. “All women care about money.”

“Not
all
women,” she said. “I don’t.”

“Nor do I,” Mrs. Jennings added.

Clint’s eyebrows drew together. “Yeah, well, excuse me for saying this, but I don’t want either of you.”

Rather than feeling hurt by the insult, Rebecca bit back a smile. “No, I don’t suppose you do.”

His eyes rounded in panic. “I didn’t mean that there was anything wrong with either of you.”

Chuckling, Mrs. Jennings patted his back. “We know you didn’t.”

Rebecca sighed again. She seemed to be doing a lot of sighing this afternoon.

She needed a moment to think.

“Tell you what,” she said. “Let me serve our new guests, and then we’ll discuss what to do next.”

Rebecca quickly filled two plates with food and went to serve the meals.

She caught sight of them at once. Cassandra wore the same hat she’d donned for Will and Emmeline’s wedding. The one decorated with lace, feathers and pink roses scattered around the crown. She looked very fashionable, as always.

Under the circumstances, Rebecca was glad to get this opportunity to converse with the couple. And, unfortunately for Clint, Cassandra and Percival
were
a couple. There was no denying they made an attractive pair. Both
had dark brown hair, remarkable light-colored eyes and flawless, doll-like features.

Although beautiful together, Rebecca had never thought of them as
belonging
together. Not like Emmeline and Will Logan.

Rebecca wondered how people saw her and Pete. Did they notice the underlying tension between them? Did they feel sorry for Pete, having been forced into marriage with an immigrant when the woman he loved was dead?

What an awful thought. But no, she had to remember her resolution. She wasn’t going to give up hope on making her marriage work.

Pasting a smile on her face, she set a plate in front of each of her guests. “Good afternoon, Cassandra. Percival.”

Percival disregarded her completely, paying more attention to the placement of his napkin in his lap.

Cassandra, on the other hand, met Rebecca’s gaze. Her smile was wide and guileless, making her even more beautiful than before. “Hello, Rebecca. Good to see you again.”

The sincerity in Cassandra’s voice had Rebecca smiling back. “You, too.”

Percival pulled at the crease in his pants, tugging until it fell into a precise line along his leg. “That’ll be all, Miss Gundersen. We would like to eat our meal in private.”

“No, Percival, we would not.” Cassandra pursed her lips. “For one, I’m still conversing with
Mrs. Benjamin.
”

Ignoring the correction of Rebecca’s name, he dabbed at the corner of his lips with his pinkie finger. “By all means, my dear, finish your conversation.”

Rebecca had seen enough. There was no comparison between the two men vying for Cassandra’s affection. “I
won’t keep you any longer.” She turned to face Cassandra directly. “It’s been a pleasure seeing you again.”

“And you, as well.” Cassandra’s eyes filled with silent apology, making Rebecca like her all the more. “I hope we run into each other again soon. Next time, we’ll talk longer.”

“I’d like that.” Rebecca quickly returned to the kitchen, determined to do her part to make sure the better man won Cassandra Garrison’s hand.

And after her short conversation with the competition, she knew beyond a shadow of doubt that the “better man” was Clint Fuller.

P
ete went about his afternoon chores in the smithy with his head full of Rebecca and the state of their marriage. Something had to change. And it was clear it would have to come from him.

Accustomed to working in the dark, he mechanically sorted the dust from the coke and then added the largest clumps to the center of the pot.

A familiar surge of frustration shoved at him, making him pull on the billow’s cord with unnecessary force. Frowning, he released the cord and stepped back.

Since his mind refused to let go of thoughts surrounding Rebecca, he let them come.

From the start, she’d sparked a protective instinct in him. So much so that he’d considered it his Christian duty to marry her. He’d never expected to grow to like her, much less build a friendship with her. Yet here he was, struggling with emotions he’d thought had died with Sarah and their child.

Although he wasn’t hurting Rebecca, or making her
unhappy like he’d done with Sarah, Pete knew he wasn’t bringing her joy, either. There was no denying that she wanted more from him. Unfortunately, he couldn’t figure out how to give her what she wanted.

Lord, what’s holding me back?

At least some good had come to Rebecca outside of their marriage. Edward was working longer hours in the stable these days.

Even now, Pete could hear the man talking to the horses in the livery next door. Although Edward spoke softly, his thick Norwegian accent came through loud and clear, primarily due to the fact that the roof had yet to be repaired.

Despite their shoddy accommodations, the horses thrived under the Norwegian’s expert handling. Good thing Edward was back at work, if only for part of the day. Pete’s primary focus had to be in the smithy until the town was rebuilt.

Satisfied the fire was burning hot enough, Pete maneuvered around the quench tub and quickly chose the tools he’d need to make a batch of hinges. Ball hammer, tongs, chisel, an assortment of files.

Returning to the forge, he speared several iron rods into the center of the fire that had become a nice shade of yellow.

For the next hour he let all thought drain out of him and focused solely on his work. Eventually, he stepped back to study the effect of his efforts. The metal was taking shape at last.

Just as he raised his hammer again, the door to the smithy swung open, shooting a bolt of hard daylight through the darkened interior. Before he could complain, the door slammed shut.

Waiting for his vision to adjust, Pete set down his hammer and turned his attention to the man standing against
the doorway. Although he couldn’t determine Edward’s expression, there was something in the way he held his shoulders that put Pete instantly on guard.

“Horses are all fed,” Edward said, his voice wrapping around his Norwegian accent with more force than usual.

“Any problems I need to know about in the livery?”

“
Nei.
I mean,
no.
No problems.” The last sounded decidedly American, but Pete recognized the underlying tension beneath the words.

He waited for Edward to continue.

“Star and Larkin still need grooming, but I…” Edward cleared his throat. “I need to go lie down first. I can’t stand how weak I am, I…” His words trailed off, but instead of leaving right away he moved deeper into the smithy.

“There’s no shame in taking time to heal.”

Edward didn’t respond. He simply stood blinking into the forge’s fire, his fists clenching and unclenching.

“Something else bothering you?”

“It’s…yeah, there is something.” The younger man spun to glare at him. “All I wanted when I sent for Rebecca was for her to be happy here in America. I thought High Plains would make her a good home. Aside from all the other troubles she’s endured, I never expected her to end up in a forced marriage.”

Pete pulled in a hard breath. A mixture of dread, acceptance and responsibility—mostly responsibility—filled him. Edward shouldn’t have been the one to start this conversation. But now that he had, Pete would continue with complete honesty.

“I didn’t want to force her, but there were no other options. We had to get married.” Pete wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm. “It was the only way I could protect her.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Edward slammed his fist against his thigh and turned to face Pete directly. “It’s not that I don’t like you, Pete. I do. You’re a good man. But are you the man for my sister?”

The knots tightened in Pete’s neck. Hadn’t he been wondering the same thing for days? “Rebecca and I are slowly finding our way together.” Was that frustration he heard in his voice? “It’s going to take time, that’s all. We just need a little more time.” No, it wasn’t frustration making his voice crack. It was desperation.

Pete hadn’t felt this out of control since the final days of Sarah’s life. In that moment, he finally accepted that time wasn’t going to be enough. He knew he had to do more.

But what?

As though reading his mind, Edward stepped to within a foot of Pete. Toe-to-toe, there was no mistaking the other man’s fierce expression. “Pete. You can’t just wait for things to change. You have to try harder to make my sister happy.”

“I know. And I will.”

Edward glared at him another five full seconds then finally stepped back. “That’s all I ask.”

Pete took a fortifying breath.

“Now that I’ve had my say, I’m heading to my room for a while.” There was obvious fatigue in the odd set of his shoulders. “I’ll groom the horses later this afternoon.”

“No need. I’ll take care of it myself.”

Edward hesitated. “You sure?”

“Go on,” he said. “I can handle it by myself.” He didn’t add that grooming the horses always helped him think. And gave him a chance to talk to God uninterrupted.

Yes, prayer was always a good place to start. But as Edward shuffled out of the smithy, Pete felt a growing
sense of anxiety. He had no doubt that Rebecca deserved a happy marriage.

The question, of course, was whether Pete was capable of giving it to her.

Later that afternoon, Rebecca headed home earlier than usual. She took the back route, wanting to avoid conversation for as long as possible. In fact, she could use a few days without talking altogether. After successfully teaching Clint a few basic manners, she’d come away exhausted. Clint had been incredibly focused during the lesson, asking questions as fast as Rebecca could answer them.

In the face of such determination, she’d found herself comparing the cowboy’s efforts to Pete’s. Where Clint was working hard to earn Cassandra’s favor, Pete seemed to be moving at a slow, almost nonexistent pace. Where Clint was willing to push past the obstacles, Pete ignored them.

Lord, how do I break through Pete’s barriers?

A soft breeze kicked up, sending a warm wisp of air across Rebecca’s face. She felt instantly calmer.

Cast all your cares unto Him…

The remembered Bible verse brought yet another wave of comfort. “Yes, Lord,” she whispered as she rounded the north wall of the livery. “I cast this burden unto You. I—”

A loud, insistent mewing broke her concentration.

Rebecca looked at the cat rubbing against her calf. “Well, hello, Leroy.” She reached down and scrubbed the little white chin. “How are you this fine day?”

Another round of impatient meowing ensued.

“Aren’t you talkative? So, how are your babies?”

In answer, the cat trotted into the livery, stopped, looked
over her shoulder as if waiting for Rebecca to join her, then continued forward.

Rebecca obediently followed.

But instead of leading her to the kittens, Leroy brought her to a stall where Pete was grooming one of the horses. The cat proceeded to dart back to the front of the livery.

Rebecca stayed behind.

Pete hadn’t noticed her yet. Which was a good thing. Rebecca wasn’t quite ready to talk to him. Stifling a sigh, she watched his hand sweep the brush across the horse’s hide in methodical, downward strokes. With each swipe, Rebecca’s heartbeat picked up speed, drumming wildly in her ears.

Well, if Clint Fuller could humble himself in front of her and Mrs. Jennings, Rebecca could be just as brave.

She took a deep breath and spoke. “Hello, Pete.”

His hand stopped and the brush fell to the ground. For one agonizing moment, she wasn’t sure he would acknowledge her. But then he shifted to his left, slowly, and locked his gaze with hers. “Rebecca. You’re home early.”

She nodded, unable to look away from all that intensity focused solely on her. There was something engaging about the way Pete looked at her today, as though she were the only person who existed in his world. The only person who mattered.

Had he been thinking about her just now?

How wonderful.

“Mrs. Jennings gave me the night off,” she said, surprised at the nerves she heard in her voice.

“Ah.” His gaze stayed locked with hers, communicating a hundred different emotions in a split second. He started toward her, ignoring the horse, ignoring the fallen brush.

His eyes never left her face.

She held her ground as he approached, waiting expectantly for him to speak, to act, to do…something. Her ears filled with the sound of her own breathing.

“Did you bring supper home with you?” he asked.

“I…no.” How could she have forgotten? “I’ll have to go back.”

He exited the stall, clicking the door shut behind him. And still, his gaze stayed locked with hers.

This time, however, she could read his thoughts. There was hope in him, a willingness to open his heart to her, a desire to love and be loved in return.

She’d never felt this close to him. She should be frightened by all that distinct emotion in a man who rarely revealed his feelings. But Rebecca knew the only danger was inside herself.

If she panicked, if she looked away from him now, the connection would be broken and they’d be right back where they were. No closeness. No bond. Just friendly strangers. A horrifying prospect.

“Would you like me to escort you back?” he asked.

Escort her back? Back where?

“To the boardinghouse,” he said, answering her unspoken question, moving until he was almost touching her. But not quite.

“I…no need.” Her voice came out a shade too thick. “You have work to do.”

“I can take a short break.”

He towered over her, but instead of being intimidated by his massive size, she felt safe. Cherished, even. It was an odd sensation. One that had her lifting on her toes.

His eyes widened, just a little, but not with shock.
Glory,
her restrained husband was looking at her with delight.

She wasn’t sure which of them closed the final distance, but then their lips were pressed together, touching softly. The kiss lasted only a few seconds before he pulled back. And rewarded her with one of his quiet smiles.

With that seemingly small gesture, their marriage moved a step closer to all she’d hoped it could be.

“I have an idea for tonight,” he said, still smiling.

“You…you do?”

“Yes, Rebecca.” His lips quirked. “I do.”

She nearly sighed. She’d never expected a slight half smile to hold so much power. Or depth of feeling. Pete Benjamin continually surprised her.

“While I was grooming Star, I was thinking about our nightly Bible-reading sessions.”

So he
was
thinking about her. Warmth spread through her nerves, settling them. A little. “What about them?”

“We could use them to teach you how to read in English.” His gaze softened. “It’s how my mother taught me.”

In that moment, Rebecca knew the fight was over. Right then. Right there. Battle lost. Surrender inevitable. Pete Benjamin was officially the love of her life. “I…oh, Pete. What a sweet offer.”

“Is that a yes?”

She smiled, really, truly smiled. “Of course it’s a yes.”

He looked pleased. “We’ll start right after supper.”

So soon? A jolt of worry threatened to overwhelm her. What if she proved to be a poor student? What if she let Pete down with her efforts?

No, Rebecca would not allow such thoughts into her head. She would not allow fear to overtake this special moment. There was one force more powerful than fear. Faith!

“That sounds perfect.” Rebecca tossed a nonchalant pitch over her words. “But, first, I’d better retrieve our supper.”

“I’ll be in the smithy. Come get me when you’re ready to eat.” His gentle, faintly amused tone was unbearable in its own way. And she’d thought his smiles held all the danger.

Faith, she reminded herself. She just needed a little faith. And trust, of course. The Lord would do the rest. It was with that encouraging thought that she managed to turn around and walk back to the boardinghouse.

Later that night, Pete sat at the ridiculously small table in the kitchen, Bible spread open. Rebecca perched on the edge of the chair next to him, twisting her hands over each other.

He could actually feel her nervous tension, so he gave her a soft smile. “Where would you like to start?”

“I don’t know.” She looked at the open Bible as though it was a snake ready to strike. “There are so many words, aren’t there?”

With that one statement, he realized how hard this must be for her. Yet, here she was, attempting to learn to read in a foreign language. Her courage awed him. “Do you have a favorite passage, maybe a favorite verse where you’d like to start?”

With a shaky hand, she reached out to touch the Bible, then snapped it back into her lap without making contact. “I like the Psalms.”

“Me, too.” He flipped to the center of the Bible, stopping at random. “Why don’t we start here?” he asked, without looking at the page directly.

She leaned forward, eyes scrunched in concentration. “Where is here?”

Her hair fell off her shoulder, creating a golden curtain
between them. He caught the scent of her, a unique fragrance of apples mixed with soap. Shoving back a sudden wave of tenderness, he removed his gaze from her glorious hair and angled his head to look at the page.