by Cat Cahill
As the deeper meaning of Ivy’s words sunk in—she’d made a friend in town—Andrew’s gaze traveled over the group of men who’d arrived to help. There must have been ten or so of them. He could make out the town marshal, along with a couple of storekeepers, the doctor, and—was that the blacksmith? He hadn’t spoken with any of them since Mary’s death, except for the most minimal of business purposes.
Ivy had turned to follow his gaze. “I told the marshal’s wife what I’d feared had happened before I left town to ride home.”
“And he came,” Andrew said, disbelieving.
“Of course he did.” Ivy looked up at him. “People want to help.”
Andrew let her words sink in as Marshal Wright started toward them. Had they wanted to help when he lost Mary? He’d pulled away, inside himself, and hadn’t let anyone do a thing for him. He’d gone into town for supplies, but hadn’t spoken more than was necessary. He’d pushed them all away, hadn’t told them what had happened, and so they’d talked amongst themselves.
Marshal Wright was friendly enough, asking only for their account of things before promising that St. Clair would not bother them again.
The men dispersed, many of them coming by to check on Ivy and shake Andrew’s hand. They took St. Clair with them, and then only Ivy and Andrew and their mules remained in this wide stretch of valley, among the sage and the grasses and the occasional birdsong.
“Andrew?” Ivy said in a quiet voice.
He looked down at her, her small hand safe in his, and her pretty eyes fixed only on him.
“I want you to know how sorry I am about what I said earlier. I was afraid and angry with you, but that was no excuse for what I said. I love you and I’m sorry.”
He blinked at her words before a smile lifted his lips. “What did you say?”
“I said . . .” A light flush colored her cheeks as she seemed to realize the words she’d spoken.
He lifted a hand to caress her pink cheek. “I love you too.” Her smile was more reward then he ever could have asked for in this life. He wanted to pull her to him again, to press his lips against hers and let her know how much she’d changed his life. But he resisted, because he owed her an explanation.
“I should have told you what happened to Mary. I feared it would scare you, but mostly, I was afraid you’d blame me too.” And with a deep breath, he told her about the accident. About how much Mary had wanted to accompany him hunting. About how he’d let her use the old shotgun. And about how it had backfired and injured her so badly as to cause her death. And about how he’d taken the blame—for not checking the weapon before giving it to her, for not letting her use the newer shotgun, for allowing her to go with him in the first place, for being unable to save her.
Ivy listened to all of it, one hand in his and the other one resting on his arm. And when he finished, all she said was, “You know it was not your fault, don’t you? You only wished to make her happy, and there is no blame in that.”
Her words, spoken so honestly and kindly, washed through his soul. He nodded mutely, unable to speak lest he risk all that emotion tumbling out. Instead he clutched her to him. She folded into him, so much a part of his life now that he couldn’t imagine it without her. It no longer felt like a betrayal to Mary. Instead, it was as if she were there, telling him she wanted him to be happy. The breeze buffeted Ivy’s skirts against his legs and sent some of the dust flying.
“Andrew?” Ivy said, her words muffled against his chest. “I ought to have told you about Mr. St. Clair’s designs on me. I was ashamed. And I was afraid you’d blame me for causing his attentions. Besides, I truly thought we were free of him. I thought I might never have to think of him again.”
“All I care about is that he won’t hurt you again.” Andrew eased his grip on her so he could look down and see her precious face.
She smiled at him, trusting and open, and he wanted never to let her go. He lifted his hands to her face, cradling them against her cheeks. He dipped his head until he was just grazing her lips. Her eyes closed, and he whispered, “And all I want is for you to be my wife.”
Ivy opened her eyes, just barely. “I am, my husband.” Her breath caressed his lips and, unable to hold himself back any longer, Andrew sealed the promises they’d made before they’d met each other with a kiss.
The grasses rustled as the wind picked up. It tossed the strands of Ivy’s hair that had fallen about her face, but Andrew held her firmly against him. She sighed when he deepened the kiss, and he moved his hands to pull her even closer to him.
Time seemed to still entirely, until he gently backed away. Ivy attempted to pull him back to her, her hands clutching his shoulders. Andrew laughed lightly. “Later. We ought to get the children before Mrs. Drexel thinks we’ve abandoned them.”
Ivy’s face went red as her eyes widened. “The children! I can’t believe I—” She stopped as her blush grew.
That only made Andrew laugh harder. “I suppose I should take it as a compliment, being the only thing that can distract you from mothering.” He stepped back and took her hand to lead her to Henry. “Come, let’s go get them.”
Ivy turned her bright smile onto him. “They’ll be happy to see their father.”
As they rode to town, Andrew counted his blessings. He had a family. And he wanted for nothing else.
Epilogue
July 4, 1878
Mrs. Schwartz thumped out the final chords on the piano and stood. Everyone clapped politely from the chairs and blankets they had spread out on the sloping hill that led up to the hotel. The piano sat at the bottom of the hill, graciously loaned—and carried out—from the nearby Starlight Saloon.
“That was . . .” Ivy couldn’t quite find the words to describe Mrs. Schwartz’s vigorous musical style.
“Beastly?” Andrew supplied.
Ivy suppressed a giggle. “It’s a wonder this one is still asleep.” She nodded at the baby dozing in her lap.
“Just wait until Benton starts in with his rendition of ‘America.’ He’s been practicing all week. He treated me to it on Wednesday when I brought in Miriam’s shoe.” Andrew grimaced as if he were scarred from the entire experience.
Ivy grinned at her husband just as Mr. McFarland, the manager of the hotel, arrived to greet them.
“Don’t let my Kate see that baby, else you won’t be holding her the rest of the evening,” Mr. McFarland said in his Irish brogue. He was a friendly man with a stomach that indicated he ate well, and, Ivy had found out after the fact, he’d been among the men who’d come riding out to rescue her from Mr. St. Clair last summer.
“Please do send her over. I’d love to visit with her,” Ivy said.
Mr. McFarland agreed to do just that, and as he spoke with Andrew about this summer’s crops and what he could expect to purchase for the hotel, Ivy leaned back on her hands and marveled at how easy it had been for Andrew to befriend several men in town once he’d let down his guard. Whereas before, his dealings with Mr. McFarland had been strictly business, now Andrew took the time to sit and have a cup of coffee with the man once in a while. Each time they rode into town now, multiple people greeted them. Oliver and Sarah had friends they ran immediately to when the family had arrived at this Independence Day picnic. And Ivy had enjoyed getting to know several of the women in town. It was lovely to catch up with Caroline at the mercantile, Edie Wright, the marshal’s wife, Dora Gilbert, whose husband ran the land office and a freight business, and several of the other women she’d gotten to know at church.
And of course, there was Maggie. Ivy didn’t see her dearest friend as frequently as she might have liked given that she lived much farther from town than Ivy and Andrew. But she’d spent a good hour chatting with Maggie earlier, before she and her family had left early to make it back to their ranch before dark.
“McFarland says the fireworks will be something to see,” Andrew said as he returned to his seat beside her on the blanket. “Would you like to stay?”
&nb
sp; Little Janey stirred, and Ivy ran a finger lightly over her little cheek. The baby sighed and didn’t wake. “Provided this little one cooperates, that would be wonderful. Oliver and Sarah would enjoy it. Is it all right to be going home so late?”
“We’ll be safe,” Andrew said, resting his hand on top of Ivy’s. He’d had no fear of carrying his shotgun since last summer. In fact, he’d even brought home fresh meat over the winter instead of purchasing it at high prices in town.
Ivy glanced up at him, marveling yet again at how lucky she was. Andrew was everything she’d ever hoped for, and their family was happy and healthy. He doted on Oliver and Sarah and adored baby Janey. “All right,” she said. “Let’s stay.”
He gave her a smile meant only for her. It was a good thing she had a baby asleep on her lap, or Ivy might have climbed to her knees and kissed him right there, in front of everyone in town.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Mr. McFarland said from where he stood near the piano. “We have a special treat for you now. Mr. Benton has offered to sing a selection of songs certain to stir the patriotism in your hearts.” The smithy beamed next to him, freshly scrubbed and dressed in his nicest clothing. Ivy had never seen the man looking so clean.
“Oh no,” Andrew said under his breath.
Ivy clapped a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing.
And as Mr. Benton launched into a very loud and very off-key rendition of “America,” Ivy decided there was nowhere else she’d rather be than here, on this hill in the middle of Colorado, with her family and friends, and listening to a very earnest Mr. Benton.
She’d left Illinois in fear and found happiness in Colorado. Andrew wrapped his hand more tightly around hers, and as Ivy glanced at the folks she knew scattered about their blankets and chairs, the grand hotel rising behind them flanked by the mountains, and the town stretched out in front of her with their very own homestead lying somewhere in the distance, she felt complete.
She leaned her head on Andrew’s shoulder, not caring who might see, and sighed with the utmost contentment.
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Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed Ivy and Andrew’s story. If you’d like to read more of The Proxy Brides series, you can find all of the books listed here: http://bit.ly/ProxyBridesSeries Thank you so much to my newsletter readers, who named Oliver and Sarah!
If you enjoyed this book, you might also like my Gilbert Girls series, which is set in the Crest Stone Hotel. The first book in the series is Building Forever.
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Turn the page to see a complete list of my books.
More Books by Cat Cahill
Books in The Gilbert Girls series
Building Forever
Running From Forever
Wild Forever
Hidden Forever
Forever Christmas
On the Edge of Forever
The Gilbert Girls Book Collection – Books 1-3
Other Sweet Historical Western Romances by Cat
The Proxy Brides Series
A Bride for Isaac
A Bride for Andrew
The Yours Truly: The Lovelorn Series
Confused in Colorado
Dejected in Denver
The Blizzard Brides Series
A Groom for Celia
About the Author, Cat Cahill
A sunset. Snow on the mountains. A roaring river in the spring. A man and a woman who can't fight the love that pulls them together. The danger and uncertainty of life in the Old West. This is what inspires me to write. I hope you find an escape in my books!
I live with my family, my hound dog, and a few cats in Kentucky. When I'm not writing, I'm losing myself in a good book, planning my next travel adventure, doing a puzzle, attempting to garden, or wrangling my kids.
