Fire and Ice

by Leah Atwood

  “For most people, yes.” She ran her tongue over her upper lips and her thumbs twirled around each other.

  Taking her hands, he diffused her nervousness with a calming touch. “Why would we be different?”

  “Because after I had discovered the truth about Patrick, I vowed not to make a decision based on my heart again, only with my head.”

  She was so serious about her faulty conviction that he almost laughed, but he restrained himself, not willing to set them back when she’d just admitted she had feelings for him. “Are you saying that if your decision was based strictly on what your heart wanted, your answer would be ‘yes’?”

  “Oh, Sam, if only it had been you that I was to marry, not Patrick. But how can I trust my feelings again? I was already duped once.”

  Her fears hurt him, but he understood. He cupped her cheek and splayed his fingers across her cheek. “Can you trust this?” Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to hers for a second time. The timing wasn’t ideal, but he wanted her to feel once more the connection between them, to know there was something special between them.

  Breaking the kiss, Maeve pulled her head back. “I want to,” she whispered, “but I don’t know how.”

  Time for a change in his approach. “I’m sorry for everything my brother has put you through. If I could go back in time and change it, I would, only it would be me that wrote to you and not him. You said your decisions would be based from your head and mind, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then how about this—let’s marry because it’s the practical thing to do. You came west for a reason, of which one day I hope to know the truth. Something made you write to Patrick in the first place. I know in my soul that, although you miss your family, you don’t want to leave. Am I right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And we don’t want you to leave. My family loves you already. The townsfolk mean no harm, but they don’t always welcome us, for reasons I’m sure you can guess. That’s been hard for Liza, but now she has a friend in you. Jeanette adores you and you’re good for her. Sometimes Ma is so busy just trying to get everything done that Jeannette doesn’t get much time with her. You’ve helped change that. Even my younger brothers are sweet on you.”

  A small chuckle came from Maeve. “Lucas told me earlier that he didn’t want me to leave.”

  “You don’t have to. Whether you agree to marry me or not, you are welcome here for as long you need or want to stay.”

  “We both know I’ll have to leave soon, now that Patrick has returned and married.”

  His chest rose then fell with an exasperated sigh—he couldn’t, wouldn’t, pressure her into marriage. “That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t know that you have to leave, but it’s your decision. Even if it’s not what I want, I’ll support you.”

  “Why did Patrick marry Candace? They don’t seem happy as I suspect newlyweds would be. And if he didn’t want to marry her, why do it when I was here waiting.”

  The crux of her refusal was revealing itself. The hurt of being passed over ran deeper than he had realized. “Candace’s father caught her and Patrick in what he considered a compromising position though Patrick adamantly defends they were only kissing. Whatever it was, Candace’s father insisted that they wed to preserve her reputation.”

  “So he didn’t willingly marry her?” Her expression was hard to read, and he wasn’t sure what answer she wanted to hear.

  “By all accounts, no. I know my brother better than anyone, and in this instance, I believe he was telling the truth.” Beads of sweat formed on the back of his neck as he waited for a response from her. He sensed his answer would somehow be the definitive mark, but for which way he didn’t know.

  Maeve shifted her body and prepared to stand. Sam quickly stood, offering his hand to her for assistance. When she was upright, she gazed out at the vista spanning miles upon miles of ranch land. She began to speak, still looking out and not at him. “My mother moved to America from Ireland when she was not much younger than I am now. Before she passed, she would tell me stories of growing up in a country that’s as foreign to me as America was to her all those years ago. She told me if I ever got the chance to travel, I should seize the opportunity because there’s an enormous world out there that extends far beyond the corner in which we live.”

  She brought her gaze to him. “I didn’t write the initial letter to Patrick—my brother, Shane, did. He has a bit of a reputation for playing pranks and thought it would be funny though I don’t think he really believed Patrick would respond. When he gave the letter to me, I remembered Ma’s advice. I thought, ‘Why not travel west?’ It seemed like such a grand and adventurous place to see, and even a dull, orderly, person like myself sometimes longs for change and excitement at times.”

  “Has the west been what you expected?” Their conversation had taken a detour, but he was glad she was opening up to him.

  “Not at all. It’s wild, but not in a way I expected. The wildness comes from the rawness and beauty of the land, the effort taken to eke out a living, not the lawlessness I anticipated.”

  He grinned, loving every word she spoke. She’d been bitten by the fever and didn’t even realize it. This land, this place, had worked its way into her heart. “There are still parts of the state that boast chaos, but Weatherton is fairly tame. Patrick is usually the biggest troublemaker.”

  Her gaze traveled back out to the land. “You were right—I don’t want to leave.”

  Thousands of tiny hammers beat on his heart. What he hadn’t considered a possibility several hours ago now consumed him, for more than anything he wanted her to stay.

  As his wife.

  “Then don’t.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, softly urging her to face him.

  She complied, turning to him, an uneven smile playing on her lips. “I’ll stay on one condition.”

  Anything he wanted to shout. “What condition?”

  “You kiss me again.”

  That was one term he could easily accept. His lips curled into a smile before he tilted his head and sealed their engagement with another kiss.

  Chapter 9

  Three weeks later- October 1893

  “I couldn’t be more proud of you.” Ma looked at him and adjusted the jacket of his suit.

  It was the only one he owned, and he’d gotten it when he was still a boy in his teen years. Although he hadn’t gained any height, his muscles had filled out in the years since, making the garment uncomfortably tight. He was only wearing it because it was his wedding day, and Maeve deserved to have him at his best.

  “Why do I feel like I drank an entire barrel of water at once?” He rubbed his clammy hands against his pant leg.

  Ma chuckled. “Pre-wedding jitters. Even your father had them.”

  “Did you?”

  “Maybe just a touch. Once you’re standing up there in front of the preacher, you’ll forget all about them.”

  “I wish I could give Maeve a big wedding.” With downcast eyes, he chewed on his bottom lip.

  “I know, but she did say she prefers a small affair. I don’t think she’s saying it just to make you feel better.”

  “But at minimum, she should have someone other than us there.” By “us” he meant his family, no one outside of his siblings, Ma, and Candace. A seed of resentment had taken root. It was bad enough Patrick had messed up so many other things in all their lives, but now Maeve would lack on her wedding day because of him. No one from the town, even a few who still spoke with them, could be invited for worry that someone might tell Candace the truth. He was sick of covering for his brother.

  “Let it go, Son. Bitterness has never led anywhere except down a path of misery. Patrick has made more than his fair share of trouble for all of us, but I’m not giving up on him. He’s facing his consequences now, and I really believe this could be a turning point.”

  “Yes, but in the meantime, we are all still suffering.”

  “This is your wedding
day. Tell me, do you love Maeve?” Ma asked without a single flinch.

  “I… I care for her deeply.” He paused and rubbed his chin. “No, I more than care for her. I do love her.”

  “Then listen to me and listen carefully. What Maeve will need is your full attention and support. Marriage is a hard enough business without throwing in the extra factors you two will face, such as the short time you’ve known each other and how you came to be engaged. But if you love her, don’t let Patrick into your marriage.” Ma stared at him intently, her eyes begging him to heed her advice.

  “What do you mean, ‘don’t let Patrick into our marriage’?” He cocked his head, waiting for clarification.

  “You have a lot of anger built up toward your brother, much of it justified, but when you marry, you become one with that person. Your happiness becomes their happiness, their joy, yours. On the other side, their pain becomes yours, your anger, theirs.”

  “So you are saying my anger toward Patrick will interfere with my marriage?” It made sense, but at that exact moment he didn’t have many charitable thoughts toward his brother.

  “Yes, absolutely.” Ma covered his cheeks with her palms. “You’re a good man, Sam, and a good son. When your Pa died, you stepped up without hesitation, and I know the sacrifice you made. You’ve always worked so hard to do what’s right, even at the expense of expressing yourself, and I’m afraid we’ve all taken advantage of that fact.”

  Sam didn’t know what to say—everything Ma had said was true, but he’d never been bothered about it until recently.

  Ma removed her hands from his face. “When you recite those vows, Maeve becomes your priority. You do what you need to do for her. Don’t worry about the rest of us, we’ll be fine.”

  “You make it sound like I’m leaving, Ma. I’ll still be right here, doing what I can to restore the ranch.”

  “Yes, you will, but your focus will change, as it should.” She abruptly changed the subject, and he thought he saw a hint of a tear in one eye before she blinked. “Let’s go. We can’t have you late to your own wedding.” Her gruff tone didn’t match the sentimentality in her expression.

  An hour later, Sam and his entire family were entering town. Men and women alike stared at them, some with open scorn as their gaze settled on Patrick. Of the ones glaring, Sam knew exactly why they took issue with his brother. Last year, Patrick had cheated during a poker game with Lowell Manning, taking his prized, inherited pocket watch. Sam had seen to it that the watch was returned to its rightful owner. Two years ago, Patrick had been courting Rosalie Beard when he’d been caught kissing Erin McNaughton. There wasn’t much he could do to rectify that situation, and it had cost the Holden family Mr. Beard’s business, who’d, until then, always purchased his beef from them.

  Those were just a few of the folks of Weatherton, who’d suffered from Patrick’s ill-mannered behavior and complete disregard for other’s feelings. Sam hoped they didn’t see too many more members of the wronged-by-Patrick club. Tension among his family was already high, and he didn’t want any scenes. He also couldn’t help but wonder how quickly word of Patrick’s marriage on the wings of Maeve’s arrival had spread, along with his own pending marriage to Maeve. Should have left Patrick at home, he thought. The gossip hens already have enough fodder for their squawking.

  Except that would raise issues with Candace and alert her to something not being right. Quite frankly, he was surprised that no one had accidentally told Candace the truth yet, or that she hadn’t figured it out. All the other children had been warned to watch their words carefully and not tell Candace that Maeve was originally Patrick’s fiancée.

  Such an odd couple, Candace and Patrick were, an unlikely pair if ever there was one. During the last three weeks, Sam had observed them, noting that they seemed to be struggling with adapting to life together. They were pleasant to others, Patrick had even been helping out around the ranch a great deal, but they rarely interacted with each other. Sam felt sorry for his new sister-in-law.

  Even though Maeve and he had corrected his lie, in the sense that they were now officially engaged, a measure of guilt still plagued him for not being completely truthful. Again, though, it was one of those times when the right thing to do was drawn in blurry lines. He ceased that line of thinking because the ball of anger toward Patrick was growing again in his chest. Instead, he focused his attention on the upcoming nuptials.

  The wagon rumbled to the far end of town and pulled up to the church where everyone unloaded. The temperatures were balmy for October and he took that as a positive sign. Good weather on his wedding day had to stand for something.

  Pastor Gibbons opened the church doors and welcomed them in. He directed several of them where to stand, and the remainder of the Holden family took a seat in the pews.

  Maeve stood in front of the altar, facing Sam. The pastor instructed them to join hands and Sam took Maeve’s hands and covered them with his own. Within seconds, the trembling in her fingers subsided. She looked at him, a tinge of pink in her cheeks as she smiled nervously through thinned lips.

  She was beautiful. He’d been too busy to put much thought into marrying and now he knew why. Anyone else he could have married would have been the wrong person. Perhaps he owed Patrick thanks after all. He’d think about that later because Pastor Gibbons was beginning the ceremony. Ma’s words came true and everything else slipped from his thoughts. He focused solely on Maeve and the vows he was reciting.

  “I do,” he repeated when prompted.

  Two words that would forever change his life. Two words that had never held such meaning.

  Maeve repeated the same vows, promising her life to him. She gazed at him, and as she said each word, he could feel the meaning all the way to his heart.

  Chapter 10

  I’m a married woman, was the first thought Maeve had when she woke up to Sam’s arms holding her. They were strong arms, muscular from years of hard work. She snuggled against him, indulging in the comfort her husband unconsciously offered in his sleep.

  She was a wife now, in every way. Memories from last night flooded her thoughts, causing her cheeks to burn. Overwhelmed with the level of intimacy she’d shared with Sam—not just physically, but mentally as well—she needed to put some space between them and sort out what she was feeling. Lifting his arm from atop her, she gingerly moved it away from her before sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed.

  The room was still pitch black, and she fumbled at the makeshift stand beside the bed until her hand made contact with the kerosene lantern she’d carried to bed last night. It wasn’t a fancy lamp like she’d seen in some homes, but it was made for practical usage. Maybe in time, she could have some pretty ones. Blindly, she slid her hand to the top, finding the handle. She grasped it and lifted it from the stand. Only, she had nothing with which to light the wick. Last night, Sam had lit her lantern with a match from a box atop a shelf in the kitchen area. Now if only she could find her way there. Since her new home was a one room shack, it shouldn’t be that hard.

  Her eyes had adjusted to the dark now, and while she couldn’t see much, she was able to make out some shadows and outlines. Using the little sight available to her, she navigated the room, narrowly missing a stumped toe from a rocking chair. If the number of steps she’d taken was any indicator, she should almost be there. She stuck out her arm, holding up a palm. Three steps later, she could feel the wall. Gliding her hand toward the shadowed outline of the shelf, she made contact and felt for the box. She pulled one out, struck its head against the box’s side, and then then touched the fire to the wick. The tiny cabin was instantly illuminated with soft glows of light. Glancing back toward the bed, she saw Sam still slept, undisturbed by the light.

  Maeve looked around, pleased with her new home. It was small but sufficient and suited her and Sam just fine. Once babies started coming they would need to add on, but for now, she enjoyed the coziness bred from such small living quarters. Over the last few we
eks, as they prepared for the wedding and impending marriage, Ma Holden, Liza and even Candace, had helped her add small touches that made it feel more like a home.

  A gingham valance hung above the single window of the cabin. One day, she hoped to add full curtains, but since money was sparse, all the décor had come from items already owned. The cookstove had been in the shack since long before she’d come to Weatherton, even before Sam had moved into the tiny space. Purchased during a time of prosperity for the Holden family, it had remained through many trials. It was old, but still functional. Sam had tested it for her last week, having never used it himself. Up until the current time, he’d always taken his meals at the main house.

  That was going to change. Before they’d married, they’d talked in length about expectations of all sorts, from balancing time between other family members to finances. Both had agreed that most evening meals they would take from their own home, only joining the main house one or two nights a week. Sam claimed it would afford them a chance for more private conversation, thus more opportunities to learn more about the other.

  She’d readily agreed for two reasons. First, she looked forward to spending time alone with him. Once they’d made their official engagement announcement to his family, Ma Holden had kept a very close eye on them, not even permitting a walk out of sight without sending Liza or one of the younger boys as a chaperone. The only time they’d been truly alone since the engagement was the night before the wedding when Ma Holden had consented to give them time to pray together.

  The second reason she’d agreed, was because Patrick and Candace took their meals at the main house, as the small cabin they occupied had no cookstove, leaving Candace to cook over a fire in the hearth. Ma Holden had declared that nonsense and insisted her daughter-in-law and Patrick join the family in the main house since someone would always be there cooking anyway.