Rebecca stared at the two men. Although Sam possessed broad shoulders and a muscular stature, he seemed small as he stood next to her father.
“Rebecca has done me the honor of agreeing to be my wife,” Sam said. “I am here to support her and ensure her safety.”
“Safety? I would not hurt my daughter.”
Sam met his glare. “Based on your history, I reckon that remains to be seen.”
Charles' face grew red. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “From what you know of me, you are right to question my sincerity.”
Rubbing his hand through his hair, her father crossed the room and sat in a chair opposite Rebecca. His voice cracked. “Please know I love you and it has been my driving force to fulfill the plans your mother and I had for you. The house, the ranch, the cattle, everything is part of our dream, and I swore to your mother on her deathbed I would make it a reality.”
Charles reached for Rebecca’s hand then seemed to think better of it. “I should not have married so quickly after your mother’s death. But I was lonely and believed you needed a mother. I thought Lucy would be a bonus.” He forced a laugh. “I assumed she would be a wonderful playmate for you.”
Her father looked away for a moment and rubbed the back of his neck. “Although your stepmother devised the deception, this is my fault. I should have been in contact, seen for myself you were provided for. Frankly, it was easier to throw myself into my work, my new family. I am ashamed of myself.”
Rebecca flinched. Her father's admission, although not surprising, was painful. “Why did you reject my letters?”
Charles’ face flushed red. “I’ve been deceived about so many things—your health, your education, even where you lived. I had no idea the letters existed until recently.” He cleared his throat. “After the injury to your hand and subsequently your fever and bouts with pneumonia, it was vital that you be in the care of a better doctor and someone who could dedicate the attention necessary to help you to get well.”
Rebecca fought the urge not to pull back as her father took her hand. Their eyes met, his now misty. “I hoped that you would regain your strength and be able to return home.
“I spent more time away from the ranch than at home. It was clear to me that your stepmother was not capable of providing you with the type of assistance required.”
Rebecca’s eyes shifted to the path of a solitary tear slowly moving along her father’s cheek. “Horace and Eloise loved you, and you loved them. They dedicated themselves to doing whatever was necessary to help you regain your health.”
Her father looked down at her hand and gave it a light squeeze. “When it became clear that your road to recovery was going to be a long one, I allowed others to tell me what was in your best interest. My contact with you would be limited to allow for a more natural transition. My involvement would be financial, but I would receive updates on your progress. I did indeed receive updates. Until recently, I believed you were back east, in a climate that was better for your condition.”
Rebecca swallowed hard then lifted her chin, waiting for him to continue.
“Liebling, I have been a fool.” Her father leaned forward. “You have every right to deny me. But I would like to beg your forgiveness. Starting today, I want to do everything in my power to at least try and forge a relationship. Please give me a chance.”
Rebecca forced herself to breathe evenly. She looked at Sam who offered her a nod of encouragement. For a moment she said nothing. Memories of a conversation, years ago, about her father’s absence came to mind. I don’t care what the reason might be. If he were to show up tomorrow to see me, I would be so happy.
Summoning her courage, she smiled. “What do you have in mind?”
Charles stared at his daughter as he blew out a sigh of apparent relief. His face relaxed, and his mouth turned upwards slightly. “I would like to spend time with you, get to know you and your beau.”
Her father glanced at Sam and frowned again. Rebecca felt Sam stiffen.
Rebecca took in a slow, deep breath. She watched her father draw out his handkerchief and mop his face. Turning towards Sam, he apologized. “It is difficult for me to believe my daughter is old enough to have a beau. In my mind, she is still a little girl. Please accept my apology and allow me to show you around town. I would like to introduce you to some of my friends, and we can do some shopping.”
“Shopping?” Rebecca’s eyebrows rose.
“You like to shop, do you not?”
Rebecca met her father’s gaze. “I’ve never had much need for shopping.”
Charles’ mouth dropped. “Since when is need a requirement for a woman to shop?”
Rebecca studied her father. “What other reason would there be?”
Charles slapped his legs with mirth. “Tell me, Becky, what do you enjoy?”
Rebecca lifted her chin and answered. “I like to read and bake, and I love working with numbers.”
Charles smiled. “Growing up with Horace, I should not be surprised you like to read and enjoy working with numbers. But I thought all women liked to shop.”
Sam interjected. “Mr. Mueller, if you dislike shopping as I do, you might be pleased to know Rebecca also enjoys fishing.”
Rebecca beamed at Sam, before turning towards her father. “I do love to fish. But I have to avoid the heat, so early in the morning is best.”
Charles opened and closed his hands and once again glared at Sam.
Rebecca took in a deep breath. Every time Sam says something it seems to make my father angry.
“Fishing will have to wait for another day.” Charles motioned towards Rebecca's shoes. “I believe there is an obvious need that could be eliminated by a shopping trip. It is past time for a new pair of boots, don’t you agree?”
Rebecca felt her cheeks flame. She looked at the floor, taking in the image of her worn out boots.
Charles cleared his throat. “I happen to know an excellent bootmaker. What do you say, you and your beau accompany me to his shop?” Offering a half smile, he continued. “Afterwards I would like to take you both to dinner. There is a diner close by. They make an excellent apple pie.”
Chapter 36
Dear Papa,
Prices in town are sky high. I can no longer afford to take meals at the boarding house. Mrs. Potts is wonderful. She makes sure I eat something before I start my shift.
Rebecca and Sam strolled towards the bootmaker’s shop and listened to her father’s explanation of how he had become acquainted with the cobbler.
Charles’ face lit with enthusiasm. “I purchased my first pair of boots in this style in Kansas. Several years ago, I bought this building and convinced the same cobbler to move here and set up business. We now employ six other shoemakers who do repair work but primarily make custom boots.”
Rebecca felt her face flush. She looked down and wiggled her toes. She felt the familiar hole in the sole of her shoe. I have newspaper lining my boots, and my father owns a shoe store. “You own this shop?”
Charles waved his hand towards the two-story stone building. “I own the structure, but Ralph and I are partners. He is a very talented bootmaker. Come in, and I will introduce you.”
Rebecca took in the scene of the busy shop. Several cobblers sat on benches working. The walls were filled with forms used to make and repair customers’ footwear and rows of boot samples.
Charles extended his hand to a cobbler. “Ralph, there is someone here I want you to meet. This is my daughter, Becky, and her intended, Sam Brady.”
The cobbler placed his hammer on the workbench and removed nails from his mouth. Shaking Sam’s hand, he turned and smiled broadly at Rebecca. “Becky, it is wonderful to meet you. You are a vision, so like your mother.”
Rebecca placed her hand over her heart and smiled. “You knew my mother?”
The cobbler’s smile drooped, and he shook his head. “No. Not personally, but your papa here has shown me her picture many times. He carried it with him for a
s long as I have known him.”
Charles patted the man on his back roughly. “Ralph, I need for you to create something special for my daughter and my future son-in-law. Nothing but the best will do.”
Beaming, Charles took a sample pair of black riding boots with no lacing and a pointed toe and handed them to Sam. “What do you think about these?” Charles pointed at the intricate design of the leather and the bright yellow stitching. “If you like, Ralph can add more color or design. Anything you want.”
Sam’s jaw dropped, and he stammered. “No, Mr. Mueller, I couldn’t accept a gift like that. The boots I have still have plenty of wear in them. On the other hand, Rebecca’s boots are way past needing to be replaced.”
Charles waved his hand in the air. “Nonsense. Allow me the pleasure to do something for you both.”
Turning back to the wall, he picked up an ornate pair of ladies’ boots and turned toward Rebecca. “Now then, daughter, come and pick out something for yourself. The ladies all seem to want buttons and laces. What do you say?”
Rebecca suppressed a giggle. Those are the most impractical boots I have ever seen. “Well, I have never given it much thought. I suppose I try to buy something reasonably priced and that can hold up to a lot of wear and tear. The pair you are holding doesn’t seem to fit in either of those categories.”
Charles stroked his chin then turned back towards Rebecca. “There are many choices here. Why don’t you show me what you like?”
Rebecca looked at several of the more serviceable boots and shook her head at a price. I thought the prices in the mercantile were high.
Rebecca’s father frowned, shook his head, then turned the price tag over. “Forget the money. Find something you like, my treat.”
Rebecca felt her face flame when her father’s partner insisted he help to remove her boots. Only this morning, Sam had offered again to purchase her a new pair. “Rebecca, how those boots have remained in one piece is a testament that miracles still happen. One might even say you are a walking miracle,” he’d joked. She declined because of the expense. I can't believe I am about to become the owner of custom footwear designed specifically for me.
Rebecca pondered over a variety of styles then looked at her father’s hopeful face. “Come now, Liebling. Those boots you have chosen are certainly serviceable, but they are so plain.”
Charles held out a sample pair of lace-up, pointy-toed boots. The white leather foot of the boot met with a massive black decorative star with silver stitching. “What do you think of these?”
Rebecca stared, then placed her hand over her mouth, trying to suppress her horror. I think he must like the style. One thing is for sure, if anyone saw me wearing them, they would believe fancy boots must be a family trait. Not meeting her father’s eyes, she stammered. “Those are very nice.”
Charles smiled happily. “Now we are getting somewhere. Go ahead and pick a pair of ready-made boots, and I will have Ralph design you something special.”
Taking the boot with him, he walked towards the back of the shop. “Ralph, my daughter finally made a selection.”
Rebecca met Sam’s gaze, and they laughed softly together.
Sam whispered. “Since I don’t generally tuck my pants in my boots, no one will ever see the decorative stitching. Fancy footwear is something a man of my status might never be able to pull off. I can hear the ranch hands now. But your pa, as big and foreboding as he is, no one would dare say a thing to him. Not to mention they are mighty fine boots.”
Rebecca giggled. “No one will be able to see the design on mine either since my skirts will cover all but the tops of the boots.”
Sam nodded his head towards Rebecca’s father. “While I appreciate the fact we both will have a new pair of shoes, your father seems to be gaining the most satisfaction.”
Chapter 37
Three Months Later in Carrie Town
Dear Papa,
I know now what it means when people say love makes you do funny things…
Sam searched for Rebecca’s wedding ring in vain before he remembered yesterday’s conversation with Adam. “You are strung tighter than a barbed wire fence. Leave the ring with me. I will pin it to your best man’s pocket,” he said with a wink and a slap to Seth’s shoulder. “Emma’s got the wedding clothes ready. But she said to remind you to fix the girls’ hair.”
He peered out the window at Sadie and Grace. Thankfully their hair remained in papers. The girls were making the most of the beautiful day, dressed in overalls playing with a chicken. He’d spent more than an hour preparing their hair last night. He blew out a breath of relief. It had been a long time since he rolled the girls’ hair on his own, but Molly was busy with her new babies, and Emma was spending the night in town with Rebecca in preparation for the wedding.
He walked outside, took in a deep breath of the crisp autumn air and blew out slowly. Why in the world do they insist on playing with an animal I would otherwise designate for dinner? “Girls, leave the hen alone. Come in here and get dressed.”
Sadie stood and placed one hand on her hip. “Pa, Aunt Molly said we have to stay like this until the very last minute. Is it almost time to go?”
Sam forced a smile. “No, honey, you are right. We’ve still got plenty of time. I am just antsy, I guess.” Sam walked closer to his twins.
“I guess getting married does that to a person,” Grace said as she put down the animal, which made a loud squawking sound in protest. She took one of Sam’s hands and patted it.
Sadie pulled on Sam’s other hand. “Wait ’til you see what Petunia can do. Grandpa says she is the smartest chicken he ever met.”
Sam’s eyebrows rose. “Grandpa?”
Grace narrowed her eyes and studied him stoically. “You know, Rebecca’s father. He told us to call him Grandpa.”
Sam felt his jaw drop. Recovering quickly, he nodded at both girls. The man can barely tolerate being in the same room with me, and he wants my kids to call him Grandpa? “Well, that is mighty nice of Grandpa.”
Sadie placed her hands back on her hips. “Pa, only me and Grace can call him by that name.”
Grace leaned forward and spoke softly. “It’s probably best if you keep calling him Mr. Mueller.”
Sam coughed to subdue his laughter. “That sounds like mighty fine advice.” Unable to fully contain his mirth, he grinned. “Alright now, girls, what did you want to show me? Have you taught Petunia a new trick?”
Sadie crossed her arms across her chest. “We didn’t have to teach her, she just does it. Watch.” Sadie bent down and clapped her hands. “Come here, Petunia.”
Sam watched the hen scratch and dig in the dirt, lift her head and become almost rigid in her stance. She paused then sprinted towards Sadie and Grace, with a loud squawk and flapping wings.
Grace opened her arms wide. “Here, Petunia.”
For the second time in just a few minutes, his jaw dropped. His would-be Sunday dinner snuggled into his daughter’s embrace.
“Why, she ran faster than a hot knife slices through butter.” Sam stepped closer, noting how the hen curled her head into his daughter’s neck. “Well, don’t that beat all. She looks like she is hugging you back.”
“She’s cuddling, Pa.” Sadie grinned, displaying several missing teeth. “Rebecca says Miss Lois gives the best hugs. But I expect the reason is because she ain’t ever hugged Petunia. We can’t wait to show her, can we Gracie?”
Grace nodded in agreement as she smoothed the bird’s feathers, softly crooning.
Sam rubbed his chin. “Girls, I know you love Petunia, but I am just not so sure playing with a chicken is well…clean.”
“Do you want us to give her a bath, Pa?” Grace asked.
Sam held his hands up in surrender. “No, don’t go getting any ideas. Whatever you do, you are not to try to bathe that chicken.”
Sam took in his daughters’ earnest expressions and pushed his hat to the back of his head. “I tell you what, why don’t we go c
heck on Mama dog and see how her puppies are doing? In just another week or so those pups should be ready to be weaned. Now you talk about a good pet. There is a reason why people say dogs are man’s best friend.”
Sadie put her finger to her chin. “What do they say about chickens?”
“Well, you ask a good question.” Sam looked at the chicken which seemed to mimic his daughter’s inquisitive stare. If I didn’t know better, I would say she is listening to see how I am going to answer. Sam snapped his fingers. “I’ve got one. Whistling women and crowing hens always come to no good end.”
Grace placed her hand over her mouth and gasped. “Pa, that’s not funny.”
“Besides, Emma whistles all the time,” Sadie added.
Sam rubbed his chin. “True, and in my mind, there is nothing wrong with a woman whistling, but as far as crowing hens…”
“Pa,” both girls cried.
Sam waved his hand. “Oh, don’t get your feathers ruffled.”
The girls joined him in laughter and skipped to the barn.
Sam stopped when he noticed the chicken followed. “Girls, does Petunia follow you everywhere you go?”
Grace and Sadie nodded in unison.
Sam stood still. Petunia cocked her head and scratched the dirt. “I am not sure how Mama dog will feel about her visiting the puppies. Time will tell. After we have a look, it will be about time for us to get ready for the wedding.”
Sam cringed as the girls let loose high-pitched squeals of delight which caused additional squawks and flapping wings from Petunia.
Grace twirled happily in a circle. “Grandpa said he is coming in a carriage to pick us up, so we won’t get dusty riding to church.”
Sadie held a long lock of hair wrapped up in paper for review. “Aunt Molly said to be careful when you brush our hair, so you don’t pull the curl out.”
Sam tapped the tip of Sadie’s nose. “Since I wrapped each one of those curls, I believe I should be trusted not to undo all my hard work, don’t you?”
Sadie nodded while Grace added, “You do exceptional work, Pa.”
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