Love Inspired Historical January 2015 Box Set: Wolf Creek Father\Cowboy Seeks a Bride\Falling for the Enemy\Accidental Fiancee (47 page)

Mild alarm flitted across his pleasant face. “Well, um—”

Her confusion was brief, followed by amusement. He'd eaten a bite of her pie at the fund-raiser and probably shared Rand's concerns about the quality of her cooking. She would not correct him. “Of course, if you have other plans for the evening, I understand.”

With the matter settled, she made quick work of her shopping and hurried home to prepare supper. Even if Nolan didn't wish to eat her cooking, Mrs. Foster always praised whatever she prepared.

Perhaps affected by the attempted robbery and the mortal danger her brother had faced, Anna had practiced diligently all week, as proved by her competent if not brilliant playing. She made her way through Brahms' “Lullaby” and Luther's “A Mighty Fortress is our God” with very few mistakes. Still, as she gathered her music at the end of the lesson, she whispered to Marybeth, “Did Grace Eberly really shoot the bank robber?” The wonder and admiration in her eyes revealed that her longing to be a cowgirl had not lessened.

Marybeth gave her a solemn nod. After all the details had been sorted out, Grace received the credit for taking Deke down, shattering one of his legs. The man would be fortunate if he ever walked normally again.

Marybeth didn't want to think about the damage she herself had done to Mr. Hardison. She shuddered at the memory of how her hatpin had dug deep into his upper arm and then raked downward after he'd knocked her to the floor. According to Charlie Williams, she'd managed to stab his upper arm in just the right spot to render the entire appendage useless. The thought had sickened her until several people commented that the now former gunslinger would never be able to draw a gun on anybody again. Although she cringed at the thought of hurting anyone so badly, perhaps the Lord had allowed it to stop the killer. After all, the Bible related the story of how a shepherd boy named David had killed the evil giant Goliath.

With Anna upstairs, Marybeth sat in the parlor sipping tea with Nolan, who seemed to forget why he'd lingered. He chatted about his gardener, who always managed to keep the hothouse warm enough so his flowers continued to bloom. “It is remarkable to have fresh flowers year-round in such a cold climate.” He went on to describe additions he'd planned for his house and asked if she had any suggestions for improving his property. Then he thanked Marybeth for calming his housekeeper after the robbery. “Mrs. Browder could not say enough about how poised you are.” He took a sip of tea and eyed her over his cup. “That is a very high compliment coming from an Englishwoman.”

Marybeth could only smile and nod and wonder where this all was leading.

Nolan set down his cup and saucer and inched closer to her on the settee. “Marybeth, it cannot have escaped your notice how much I admire you. I fully understand that you came to Esperanza to marry Randall Northam, but it appears to me...and to others...that your plans have changed.” His eyes glowed with fondness and he chewed his lower lip briefly. “If that is true, I hope you will not find this question inappropriate.”

Marybeth's heart dropped. Surely he would not propose. Before she could stop him, he went on.

“As you may have heard, the Northam family usually holds a Christmas party for the community. In the absence of Colonel and Mrs. Northam, and with the Northam family's blessing, of course, I will be hosting a formal dinner and social at my house on Saturday evening, December 17. You may have already noticed Christmas Eve is the following Saturday, and I thought some people may want to stay home the night before Christmas. Hence my choice of that date. You are invited, of course. And in addition, would you do me a great favor and teach Anna about her duties as a hostess?”

So he didn't plan to propose. Marybeth withheld a sigh of relief. “Yes, of course.” Rand's party was to be on Christmas Eve, so there would be no conflict. That was, if he returned from Del Norte in time. “I would be happy to help Anna and you with the party.”

He seemed relieved, as well. Had he doubted she would help? “I plan to invite the leaders of our entire community.” Now he took on his shy look. “I have not had the chance to tell you of my plans for the future, but perhaps you will find them interesting. It is clear to me that Esperanza requires more leadership, and at the party I will propose that we have an election right away. Further, I will put myself forward as a candidate for mayor.”

She supposed every town needed a mayor, but why was he telling her of his ambitions?

“Of course, in that position, I will need a wife, a helpmeet, as the scriptures say, to stand by my side as a leader among the fair ladies of our town.” He coughed softly. “I can think of no one but you who would fill that office to perfection.”

For a moment she could only stare at him. Then an idea came to mind. “I'm honored, Mr. Means.” She must step back from the familiarity of using his Christian name. “However, I believe you deserve a wife who has moved in higher social circles than I have. You should know that I come from very humble beginnings. My parents were poor immigrants and died in poverty.” She would not reveal Da's drunkenness or gambling unless Nolan became persistent. Besides, Rand knew all of these things and had made it clear none of it mattered to him.

Nolan chuckled. “Poor beginnings do not mean anything in America. My father was also an immigrant. He simply managed to build a fortune where some could not.” He leaned over and grasped Marybeth's hand. “Due to your finishing school training, you have all the grace and dignity of the most elegant society ladies I knew in New York. Any man of intelligence would be proud to have you by his side. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

There it was, the unwanted proposal. Yet in no part of this discussion had he spoken of love, for which she was glad. It made turning him down much easier. She pulled her hand free from his grasp.

“Mr. Means—”

“Nolan, please.”

She sighed. “Nolan. I admire you, too, but that's not enough for me. I want...
need
to be in love with the man I marry.”

“But that can come in time, as it did in my parents' marriage.”

“It's too late.” She injected as much firmness as she dared into her words. “I'm already in love with someone else.” Now if she could only confess her feelings to the object of that love.

Nolan's shoulders slumped. “Yes. Of course. Randall Northam.”

“Yes.”

He chewed his lip again. “I hesitate to ask this, but will you still help Anna with our Christmas social?”

“Of course I will.” How interesting, even comical, that he took her rejection so easily. Whom would he pursue now? One of the uncultured Eberly girls? Another comical thought.

* * *

The circuit-riding judge rode into Del Norte on December 14. Within two days he pulled a drunken lawyer away from his gambling over at the saloon, summoned a jury of upright citizens—all of whom remembered Cole Lyndon—conducted a trial and received the verdict. Dathan Hardison and Deke Smith were found guilty of attempted robbery and attempted murder. As soon as the north pass cleared in the spring, they would be escorted to the prison in Canon City, where they would spend the next thirty years. In the meantime, Frank and Andy agreed to stay on as deputies so Rand could return home.

As he carefully packed the carved toys and his few belongings into his saddlebags, Hardison taunted him from his cell. “I'll get out, Northam, and when I do, I'll be gunning for you. You just keep looking over your shoulder. And I've got plans for that little gal of yours, too. She owes me for what she did to my arm.”

Eyeing the limp appendage hanging at the man's side, Rand considered several responses before deciding on the best one. He stepped closer to the cell and leveled a hard stare on Hardison. “Word is a lot of men die in prisons. Sickness. Murder. So-called accidents. You need to be planning what you're going to say to the Almighty when you leave this earth. Did you ever listen to a word Reverend Thomas preached while you were sitting there pretending to believe in Jesus Christ? I hope so. You need to be thinking about Him and what He did for you.”

Hardison's curses followed Rand out the door, along with poor, stupid Deke's cackling laugh. These past few weeks had reminded him of the kind of men he used to gamble with, and he couldn't get away from these two fast enough.

The weather smiled on his travels on Saturday, December 17, and he arrived in Esperanza just after the sun ducked behind the San Juan Mountains. He rode directly to Mrs. Foster's house, determined not to let another day pass without proposing to Marybeth or at least getting her permission to court her. To his disappointment, no one was home, so he rode over to Main Street. With Esperanza having no night life, only a few people walked the streets. Lucy was just emerging from Miss Pam's café. After she closed and locked the door and turned toward her home, he reined his horse in her direction.

“Hey, Rand.” The usually talkative girl didn't seem too eager to chat, but continued on her way. No doubt she was still ashamed of throwing over a good man like Seamus and taking up with a scoundrel like Hardison.

“Hey, Lucy.” He dismounted and fell into step with her. “Where is everybody? The town's even quieter than usual of an evening.”

She shrugged. “Most of 'em are probably over at the banker's mansion.” Pulling her thin shawl tighter around her, she cast a wistful look in that direction, though the house was several blocks away and not visible from where they were. “He's having a party.”

“Ah. Right. The Christmas party.” Rand had forgotten this was the day Nolan had picked for the event. That's where Marybeth and Mrs. Foster were. His heart dropped into his stomach like a rock as he realized what this meant. Marybeth had chosen Nolan, and that was that.

Lucy seemed as depressed as Rand. He'd known her all her life and couldn't just ride away with her about to cry. “Why aren't you there?”

“Me?” She burst out with a bitter laugh. “Mr. Banker man only entertains Esperanza's
elite
citizens. He didn't even invite my ma, and she's as good as anybody in this town.”

Not invite the town's best seamstress, a dedicated member of the church? What was the matter with Nolan? In the gray illumination of twilight, Rand could see tears glistening on Lucy's cheeks. He wanted to encourage her but had to be careful so she wouldn't misunderstand his intentions.

“Well, don't feel bad. As the preacher might say, we're all elite in the Lord's eyes. Scripture says when we belong to Him, we're chosen and accepted.”

She gave him a soft smile not at all like her usual flirting ones. “Thanks, Rand. Good night.” With a wave over her shoulder, she turned down her street.

Now his own words came back on him. Chosen and accepted. Maybe not by Marybeth, but by the Creator of the Universe, the Savior of whosoever believed in Him. Rand couldn't lightly dismiss the ache in his heart, yet he would seek the comfort of the One who offered the peace that passed understanding. He would also pray that Mother and Dad would come home soon so he could explain to them in person why he'd be leaving the San Luis Valley forever.

Out at the ranch, Nate welcomed him home and gave him the news that he and Tolley had taken care of paying off Mrs. Foster's home. Susanna added that Tolley had gone to Nolan's party tonight to represent the family. That was fine with Rand. His younger brother needed a healthy social life. Right after the shooting, right after seeing Beryl nearly die, he'd admitted to Rand that he'd lost his interest in gaining a reputation as a gunslinger. That had eased some of the guilt Rand still felt over killing Cole Lyndon.

“Say, I almost forgot.” Nate shoved back from the kitchen table where they'd just finished supper. “You have a letter from Wagon Wheel Gap. I'll get it.” He picked up a burning kerosene lamp and moved toward the door.

Pulse pounding in his ears, Rand followed his brother down the hallway to Dad's office. “Did you read it?”

Nate glowered at him briefly. “I don't read other people's mail.” He shrugged. “Besides, if it's bad news, I knew I wouldn't be able to hide it from Susanna, and she wouldn't be able to keep it from Marybeth. With the baby due any day now, she's a bit emotional.” He grinned, clearly not bothered by his wife's changing moods.

Rand grunted. “Right.” He sat at Dad's desk and slit open the envelope, pulling out the folded page. At the first words, sorrow gripped him for Marybeth's sake.

Dear Mr. Northam,

Have located grave marker for one Jimmy O'Brien. Date of death, September 14, 1876.

Wish I could give you better news.

Yours sincerely,

Archie Doolittle, Sheriff

Wagon Wheel Gap, Colorado

Rand handed the letter to Nate then folded his arms across the desk and rested his forehead on them. How could he tell Marybeth? How could he bear to see her heart break?

“Lord, have mercy. He's been dead for over five years.” Nate gripped his shoulder. “What are you going to do?”

“I don't know.” Rand raised his head and scrubbed his hands over his eyes. “I was looking forward to going to church tomorrow.” In spite of his dread at the idea of seeing her with Nolan, he longed for the comfort of an hour of worship with fellow believers. “But how can I look her in the face? She'll know something's wrong right away. What do you think—?”

Urgent knocking on the door interrupted him. “Señor Nate, come quick. Señora Susanna, she needs you.”

Nate bolted out the door, with Rand right behind him. In the kitchen Susanna leaned back in a chair, her hands pressed against her protruding belly.

“Nate, honey, it's time.”

Nate knelt beside her. “Let's get you upstairs, darlin'.” He shot an expectant look at Rand, his eyes asking the question he didn't voice.