Heartland Wedding (3 page)

“Nothing, nothing.” Will waved him past. “Go on. Set Mrs. Johnson straight. I won’t stop you.”

Focused once more on his task, Pete stepped around his friend. Will turned on his heel and matched him step for step along the slatted sidewalk.

Pete stopped walking. “I don’t need a nursemaid.”

“Pete.
My friend.
” Will spoke in the slow cadence he usually reserved for small children. “Aside from the fact that I wouldn’t miss this confrontation for the world, I’ve known you since we were boys back East in Belville.”

“Yeah? No kidding. Thanks for reminding me.” He didn’t bother hiding his sarcasm. It was no secret that Will was the most level-headed man among their group of friends. Even when they were kids, he had prevented more than a few fights in their small Massachusetts community.

Pete usually appreciated Will’s ability to remain calm and think through any situation. But not today. Not with Rebecca’s tears still fresh in his mind.

“Pete,” Will said. “We both know when you’re this angry, words fly out of your mouth that make matters worse.”

Pete didn’t argue. The man had a point. “Fair enough.” He relented with only a mild dose of animosity churning in his gut. “But remember. This is
my
battle.”

Will’s gaze filled with mock seriousness. “I wouldn’t dare interfere.”

“Right.” Blowing out a hiss, Pete pushed open the door to the mercantile.

He looked around the store until his gaze landed on his quarry, who was staring back at him from behind a counter.

Matilda Johnson had the broad shoulders of a man, the small, beady eyes of a rat and hair the muted silver-brown of a hawk. Balancing on her toes, with her shoulders hunched forward, the woman looked like a coiled viper ready to strike. Even her narrowed gaze had the requisite predatory sheen.

A formidable foe.
Perfect.

“Mrs. Johnson,” he said through clenched teeth. “A word, if you please.”

Only as he moved in her direction did Pete notice the other two ladies in the store. They whispered together, sending odd looks in his direction, but neither made eye contact with him. Rather, they scurried around him like frightened mice in a barn full of cats.

Dismissing them from his mind, Pete maneuvered in front of Mrs. Johnson and opened his mouth to speak.

She beat him to it. “Why, good morning, Mr. Benjamin. How may I help you this fine day?” She smiled at him sweetly. Too sweetly. Clearly, she was up to something.

He couldn’t imagine what had put that look of pure glee in the woman’s eyes. He feared Rebecca was the reason.

The muscles in his shoulders bunched. “I want to know what you said to Rebecca Gundersen just now.”

His blunt question sent words sputtering out of her mouth. “I, oh. I didn’t expect you to—”

“Tell me.”

“Now, see here.” She hitched her chin at him, no longer playing innocent. “You don’t need to get upset with me. I merely confronted the girl about that day in your storm cellar.”

Pete narrowed his gaze. “What day in my storm cellar?”

She leaned forward with a sly look on her face. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly discuss this here, in front of my customers. It might…embarrass you.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“All right, then. I heard—” she looked at the other ladies for a brief moment “—that you and Miss Gundersen took cover together during the storm. Just the two of you.
Alone.
Without a chaperone.”

That
was what this was about? Mrs. Johnson putting a nasty spin on a harmless situation? Now he understood why Rebecca had run away crying. She must have been humiliated. Well, Pete would not allow this heartless woman to get away with ruining Rebecca’s reputation over a completely innocent, life-and-death situation.

“Yes, we took cover together,” he said. “But
I
dragged Rebecca below ground to protect her from the tornado. I gave her no other choice than to come with me.”

“Isn’t that just like you to take the blame?” She gave him a sympathetic look. “So noble. But don’t worry. I know it wasn’t your fault. That woman lured you into your storm cellar. I’m sure of it.”

“Lured him?” Will muttered from just behind Pete.

Pete raised his hand to stop Will from speaking further. Matters had just turned serious. Too serious to play word games. “What
exactly
are you suggesting, Mrs. Johnson?”

“Oh, Mr. Benjamin. I’m not blaming
you
for the incident in your cellar. I know how vulnerable your terrible loss has made you.” She patted his arm in an odd show of sympathy.

Pete yanked out of the woman’s reach. If he wasn’t mistaken, Mrs. Johnson had just blamed the entire “incident”
on Rebecca Gundersen and had given him atonement because he was still grieving his dead wife and child.

Could the woman’s reasoning be that skewed? “Let me repeat.
I
dragged Miss Gundersen into the cellar. Our seclusion was completely innocent.”

Mrs. Johnson waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “You don’t need to defend your actions to me. It’s quite understandable that you would fall for the wiles of that…immigrant.”

“
Immigrant?
You’re judging Miss Gundersen simply because she was born in a different country?”

“Well, you have to admit the woman
is
different from the rest of us.” She cast a sly glance to the front of the store, smiled at her two allies and then leaned across the counter. “We all see how she sashays around town, batting those long eyelashes at every man in sight. Why, she doesn’t even wear a bonnet like a decent woman.”

For one black moment, Pete was tempted to reach out and shake some sense into the woman. “You dare to—”

Will cleared his throat, cutting Pete off in midsentence.

Losing his train of thought, Pete cast his friend an annoyed look. “I told you to stay out of this.”

Will gave his head one hard shake. “Think before you speak,” he warned.

Pete’s jaw tightened.

It was wise advice. Nearly impossible to put into action.

Taking a moment to calm his temper, Pete called to mind a verse from the book of James about the evils of a gossiping tongue.
The tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity…

For Rebecca’s sake, Pete needed to extinguish Matilda Johnson’s gossip before it spread any further.

Placing both palms on the counter, he leaned forward
and locked gazes with the odious woman. “You will not share what you heard about Miss Gundersen and me in my storm cellar. The gossip stops now.”

Her eyes widened, then narrowed as the woman pursed her lips. “You can’t order me to be silent about something like this. We both know that no
innocent
woman would spend time alone with an unmarried man in a storm cellar. Tornado or not.”

That did it. Pete’s patience snapped. He forgot all about holding his tongue, all about thinking before he spoke. Instead, he focused on the one solution that would salvage an innocent woman’s reputation.

“You will no longer speak about my future wife with so much as a derogatory word or an ugly insinuation ever again.”

“Your
wife?
”

“That’s right. I’m marrying Rebecca Gundersen as soon as I can make the arrangements.”

The woman’s gasp was all the response Pete needed. He turned to go, then stopped himself after only two steps.

“In case there’s any doubt in your mind,” he shot over his shoulder, “you have my permission to share the happy news of my upcoming nuptials with any wagging tongues you choose.”

The woman’s sputtering was drowned out by Will’s laughing remark. “Clearly, some people never change.” It was anybody’s guess whether Will was speaking about Pete and his rash tongue, or Mrs. Johnson and her gossiping one.

Finished with the lot of them, Pete strode toward the front door. He had the presence of mind to nod at the other two women gaping at him. “Good day, ladies.”

One of them squeaked out a response, but they both gave him a wide berth. That suited Pete fine. Just fine.

The windows rattled in their casings as he slammed the door shut behind him. A sense of urgency had him increasing his pace along the sidewalk.

He figured he had ten minutes, maybe less, to locate his bride-to-be and tell her they were getting married before the rumor of their impending nuptials made it to the boardinghouse ahead of him.

Anger might have driven his words, but Pete had no doubt marriage was the right course of action. Even if pledging his life to the pretty Norwegian was a betrayal to Sarah’s memory, Rebecca Gundersen deserved the protection of his name. Maybe then the people in High Plains would start treating her with the respect she deserved. He’d worry about the repercussions to his own life and Sarah’s memory later.

Of course, Rebecca had to agree to marry him first.

Not that she had much choice.

Pete had just added enough fuel to Matilda Johnson’s fire to turn it into a raging inferno.

There was no turning back now.

“W
hy in the world would Matilda Johnson order you out of her store?” Emmeline Logan asked, hands on hips, blue eyes flashing. “Please, tell me it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

Afraid of what might spill from her mouth, Rebecca considered her words carefully. Although it had been less than an hour since she’d left the mercantile, she was sure the talk had begun about her and Pete. There was no way a woman like Matilda Johnson would hold her tongue for long. More likely, she would spread her gossip with the ugliest spin possible and as quickly as she could.

Needing a moment to gather her thoughts, Rebecca glanced out the kitchen window of the boardinghouse. She hardly noticed the clear rays of sunshine beaming across the chewed-up backyard, or the gaping holes that had once housed trees.

“Well?” Emmeline asked.

Rebecca drew in a quick breath and returned her attention to her friend. “Apparently, Matilda Johnson thinks that I lured Pete into his storm cellar during the tornado for unseemly purposes.”

“No.”
Shock leaped into Emmeline’s eyes. “She didn’t actually say that.”

“She did.”

Emmeline sank into the chair behind her. “Why, that’s…awful.”

Until she’d seen the outrage on her friend’s face, until she’d heard the appalled disgust in Emmeline’s voice, Rebecca hadn’t realized how much she’d needed an ally. “It is rather awful, isn’t it?”

“Please, sit down.” Emmeline gestured to an empty chair facing her. “You must tell me everything that woman said, and then we’ll determine what to do next.”

With the bread dough rising and the pies she’d made for lunch baking in the oven, Rebecca wiped her hands on her apron and did as her friend requested. It would be nice to share her burden with someone willing to listen to her side of the story
before
making judgments.

“All right, start at the beginning.” Emmeline’s foot drummed out an impatient tap, tap, tap on the floor. Rebecca tried not to sigh. She recognized that expression on her friend’s face. Emmeline was about to take charge of the situation, just as she had with her own family after the tornado had hit their wagon train and stranded them in High Plains. Even before her father’s death in the storm, Emmeline’s mother had alternated between timidity and illness, leaving Emmeline in charge of her three younger siblings.

No wonder Emmeline glared at her with all that determination. It was just a part of who she was as a woman. Unfortunately, no matter how hard Rebecca thought over her words, she knew her friend wasn’t going to let her skirt over any of the details.

Just as she opened her mouth, Emmeline leaned forward. “All right, that’s enough stalling. How on earth did Matilda Johnson find out that you and Pete took cover together?
I
didn’t even know about that until you told me a few minutes ago.”

Rebecca’s heartbeat picked up speed, matching Emmeline’s frantic toe-tapping rhythm. Now that she had a sympathetic audience, she found herself hesitating. She didn’t want to create her own set of rumors, but the facts were unfortunately the facts. She’d spent time alone with an unmarried man in his storm cellar. “I’m afraid she suspected and I confirmed it. I didn’t think she’d turn something innocent into something ugly.”

“Oh, Rebecca, I’m just sick about this.”

“Emmeline, you have to believe me. We were only in that storm cellar a short while. And nothing inappropriate happened. Like I said earlier, Pete saved my life.”

Emmeline’s foot stilled. “Well, of course he did. Mrs. Johnson had no right to insinuate otherwise.”

No, she hadn’t had that right. But the damage was done. Rebecca’s reputation was most certainly ruined, or on its way to becoming so. She’d lived in High Plains almost seven months, long enough to know the power of Mrs. Johnson’s tongue.

Rebecca’s stomach curled inside itself at the thought. She’d never been accused of a moral misdeed. Not as a child in Norway, not on the ship across the Atlantic, not on the wagon train to High Plains. And yet, the shame burned through her all the same.

It didn’t matter that Pete had been a gentleman inside that storm cellar. It didn’t matter that he’d saved her life. Apparently, what
did
matter was that she’d been alone
with him, without the benefit of a chaperone or anyone else to vouch for her innocence.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t—

Emmeline made a soft sound in her throat. “That woman didn’t accuse you of impropriety in front of anyone else, did she?”

“No.” Rebecca drew in a short breath. “I was the only one in the store at the time. Her daughter wasn’t even there.” But as soon as she spoke she remembered the other two ladies entering the mercantile just as Rebecca exited the building.

“Okay. Good. This situation is manageable.” Emmeline’s shoulders relaxed. “We can figure out a way to stop the gossip before it goes too far.”

“I think it’s too late for that.”

“What do you mean,
it’s too late?
” Emmeline repeated carefully, her gaze wary.

Rebecca’s heart did a sudden roll in her chest. Clinging to the last thread of her dignity, she lifted her chin and told Emmeline the rest. “Two other ladies walked into the store just as I was leaving. I’ve seen them before. They’re friends of Mrs. Johnson’s, they…” She trailed off, not sure how to put her worst fears into words.

“Oh.” Emmeline’s eyes widened. “
Oh.
You think Mrs. Johnson already told them about you and Pete?”

“Of course she did.”

Emmeline caught Rebecca’s hands between hers and held on tightly. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you, but we’re only speculating at the moment. You must talk to Pete about this.”

“I couldn’t.” Rebecca snatched her hands free, horrified at the prospect. “I’d be too mortified to discuss this with
him.” Besides, she’d had her chance right after she’d left the mercantile. His obvious concern for her had only added to her shame.

“With all that’s happened to this town over the past month, I can’t understand how Matilda Johnson has time to spread lies.” Emmeline’s lip curled into an uncharacteristic snarl. “Well, it’s just mean.”

Rebecca nodded slowly. Yes, it was mean. But whatever the woman said at this point could not be unsaid. People would either believe the talk or they wouldn’t. And if her reputation was beyond repair, Rebecca would survive the devastation. Eventually. It wasn’t as if she’d been fully accepted by the community before this.

That did
not
mean she had found it in her heart to forgive Matilda Johnson. Not yet. Ever since she’d left the mercantile, Rebecca had struggled with her own evil thoughts toward the woman.

Lord, how do I overcome this unbearable anger? I know we’re called to love our enemies, but how do I love such a woman, especially when there’s only bitterness in my heart toward her?

Rebecca paused after her prayer, hoping for a swift transformation in her thinking. But she felt no different than before. There was
still
no love in her heart and certainly no forgiveness for a woman who had set out to believe the worst.

The question, of course, was why? Why did Matilda Johnson hate her so? The woman’s behavior simply made no sense.

Renewed bitterness swelled. The emotion was so frigid it leeched the warmth right out of Rebecca’s limbs. She rubbed her palms together, but she continued feeling cold inside. Deathly cold.

Reaching across the table, Emmeline touched her arm. Rebecca nearly jumped out of her chair at the unexpected contact. She blinked at the hand on her sleeve as though it was a foreign object.

Emmeline released her. “Rebecca?”

She lifted her head and looked into her friend’s clear blue eyes. The eyes of a pure soul, set off by a cloud of dark curls under her bonnet.

“You must know that I believe you and Pete did nothing wrong that day.”

Rebecca grew very still, afraid if she moved, even a little, she would burst into tears. But out of gratitude or shame, she didn’t know. “So you don’t believe I
lured
Pete into his storm cellar for my own unseemly purposes?”

“Of course not.” Emmeline batted the idea away with a slash of her hand.

For the first time that morning, the knots in Rebecca’s stomach began to uncurl. At least one person in town believed her innocence. Two, counting Pete. Three, if she added her brother to the list. Edward had known about her forced confinement with Pete from the beginning and hadn’t thought anything of it. He trusted Pete. He trusted Rebecca. That was the end of that.

But what if he hears the gossip?
Would he talk to Pete about the matter? That would only add to Rebecca’s humiliation.

Not that Pete wouldn’t find out soon enough. Once Matilda Johnson started talking, people would surely listen, and then spread what they heard to others.

Rebecca rolled her fingers into fists, but then forced herself to relax. “Thank you, Emmeline. You have no idea how much your belief in me means.” Her voice quivered over the words.

Emmeline patted her hand. “You will always have my support.
And
my friendship.”

Rebecca saw the truth shining in her friend’s gaze. What more was there to say? “Enough about me. Let’s talk about you. Did you find any material for your new curtains?”

Emmeline hesitated a brief second before a smile broke across her face. “I did. But I left it in the parlor. I’ll just go retrieve it.” Without another word, she rushed from the kitchen in a half run, half skip.

Rebecca smiled after her friend. She looked happy,
truly happy.
Something Rebecca couldn’t have said a few weeks ago.

Emmeline had been through more than her share of hardships in the past month. She and her family had been part of the wagon train that had received a direct hit from the tornado. In a matter of minutes, the violent storm had robbed Emmeline of her father, turned her fifteen-year-old sister, Bess, mute with shock and sent Missy and Mikey, the eight-year-old orphan twins who’d been traveling with Emmeline’s family, vanishing into thin air. Everyone in town was most worried about the missing children. The fear was that Mikey and Missy had been stolen by Indians.

It was all so…terrible.

But the Lord had brought some good out of the tragedies Emmeline had endured. All starting with Will Logan, the owner of the Circle-L. He’d taken Emmeline and her family in when there’d been nowhere else for them to go. No one could have predicted—least of all Emmeline—that the handsome rancher would turn out to be the love of her life. Rebecca had attended their wedding just last week.

But before she could dwell any further on the particulars of the ceremony, Emmeline returned to the kitchen
carrying a brown paper package with a white string tied around its middle. One look at her shining face and it was clear the Lord had blessed Emmeline Logan with an enduring love for her husband. Will and Emmeline’s courtship had been unusual, more whirlwind than smooth and steady, but there was no doubt the two were blissfully happy together.

“Here it is,” she said, setting the package on the table so she could pull the string free. With slow, careful movements, she then spread the paper aside one corner at a time.

“Oh, Emmeline.” Rebecca swept her fingers across the light blue material, stopping along the way to trace a bold ivory flower. Tears threatened to escape her eyes, but Rebecca blinked them ruthlessly back into place. “This pattern reminds me of your wedding dress. You were such a beautiful bride.”

Emmeline smiled sweetly. So sweetly, in fact, that Rebecca had to gulp down another bout of tears. But this time, her emotions were far more selfish. Like this morning when she’d seen Cassandra and Percival Walker together, Rebecca didn’t
want
to feel the swift pang of jealousy that snaked through her. Yet there it was, coiling around her heart with a steely grip.

What was wrong with her this morning? First bitterness. Then anger. Now jealousy of her two friends’ happiness.

She felt like a stranger in her own skin.

Clearly unaware of her troubled thoughts, Emmeline moved her hand across the fabric and stopped it beside Rebecca’s. “I told Will I didn’t need another set of curtains, but he wanted me to make my own mark on the new house. I mean,
our
new house. He liked this material best, said the color reminded him of the blue in my eyes.”

“He’s right.” Rebecca held on to her sigh. Barely. “This will look lovely in your new home.”

“I hope so,” she whispered. “For Will’s sake. I want to make my husband as happy as he’s made me.”

How Rebecca wanted a love like Will and Emmeline shared. Unfortunately, the one person who’d captured her attention was Pete Benjamin, a man whose devotion still belonged to his deceased wife.

If only Pete hadn’t been so kind to her after the tornado, she might have been able to put her feelings for him into perspective. But each night as she drifted off to sleep, Rebecca remembered every second of their time together after the storm.

He’d refused to abandon her as she’d searched for her brother. With a gentle hand on her arm, he had guided her past dangerous debris until they’d found Edward helping with cleanup on the edge of town. Pete had made sure she was in good hands before he’d joined the efforts himself.

At the memory of his kindness, she sucked in a shaky breath. Why was there such pain in her heart every time she thought of that day?

Clicking her tongue, Emmeline set the material on the table. “You’re not thinking about what Matilda Johnson said, are you?”

“Not at all.” Rebecca wiped her forehead with her fingertips. “Other than my reputation suffering a little, I’ve been very fortunate. I made it through the storm without a single loss or injury.”

Emmeline’s smile faded, and she sighed as she lowered herself into her chair again. “You’re right, of course. We need to focus on what we have, not what we’ve lost.”

In spite of her words, a stormy expression gathered in
Emmeline’s gaze. It was the same faraway look Rebecca had seen in Bess’s eyes whenever someone asked her about the unaccounted time she’d gone missing after the tornado. The girl had been the last to see Mikey and Missy. If only Bess would talk.