by Renee Ryan
Rounding the west end of the mercantile, Pete caught sight of Will and Zeb talking together in front of the town hall.
Zeb noticed him first and lifted a hand in greeting. “There he is, the man we were just discussing.”
Ignoring Zeb’s remark, Pete looked around him, focusing on the empty sidewalk with a sick feeling in his gut. “Where’s the rest of the search party?”
“You’re looking at it.” Will crammed his hands in his back pockets and rocked on his heels. “It’s just the three of us tonight.”
Like all the other nights this week.
Frustration surged through Pete. Over the past two weeks, the search parties had dwindled in size.
“So.” Zeb bounced his shoulder off Pete’s. “I hear congratulations are in order, but why didn’t you tell us about your marriage last night?”
“There never seemed to be a right time. I was focused on finding the twins.” Which was true, but not the whole truth.
Pete hadn’t told his friends about his hasty wedding last night because his emotions had been too raw and confusing to put into words. And, as much as he knew his friends would support him, he also knew they would have expected an explanation. How could Pete explain matters he was still having difficulty explaining to himself? His sudden marriage to Rebecca was making him feel emotions he couldn’t easily define. The experience wasn’t altogether bad, just different. In a matter of days, she’d changed him. Time would tell if the new Pete was a better man than the one who had married Sarah.
“That’s all you have to say to us?” One of Will’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline. “We hear about your wedding from a third party and you stand there with that stoic expression on your face like nothing’s out of the ordinary?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Say something. Anything. Doesn’t the gossip bother you?” Will sounded disgusted for him.
“Yeah, it bothers me.” Pete rolled his shoulders in frustration. “But given the choice, I’d rather people were talking about my hasty marriage instead of questioning Rebecca Gundersen’s moral character.”
“Benjamin,” Will corrected him with an annoying gleam in his eyes. “Rebecca Benjamin.”
“Right.” Pete grimaced at his unintentional slip. “Rebecca Benjamin.”
“No matter how we found out or what certain people are saying—” Zeb looked pointedly at the mercantile across the street “—your new wife is a lovely woman. Her cooking puts her in a class of her own.” He nudged Pete again. “I hope you’ll take pity on the rest of us and encourage her to continue working at the boardinghouse.”
Oddly annoyed by his friend’s teasing tone as well as the question itself, Pete grunted out a response. Although he’d made it clear to Rebecca that their marriage wouldn’t be a normal one, he didn’t like the idea of sharing his wife with anyone, not even the diners at the boardinghouse. What did that say about him? Surely nothing good.
“Well?” Zeb persisted.
“She’s going to continue cooking for Mrs. Jennings.”
“On behalf of the entire town, might I say—” Zeb dragged the back of his hand across his brow with an exaggerated swipe “—thank goodness!”
Another ugly sensation spread through Pete’s gut. But before he could ponder the source, Will moved into his line of vision.
“Regardless of how your marriage came about, you deserve some happiness, Pete. I pray Rebecca helps you find it.”
At that bold statement, a pall of uncomfortable silence enveloped them all. No one spoke his thoughts aloud, but each knew what the others were thinking. There’d been no love lost between Pete’s friends and Sarah.
But Pete couldn’t blame Will and Zeb for the discord. They’d tried their best to welcome Sarah into the community. She, on the other hand, had made little effort. She’d been especially nasty to Zeb. Pete still couldn’t figure out why, unless it was because Zeb had been the one to contract Pete as High Plains’s blacksmith.
Thoughts of that fateful letter brought Zeb’s other search to mind. “How’s the hunt for the new town doctor going? Any more applicants answer your ad in the Kansas Gazette?”
“Afraid not. Dr. Gruesome was the last.”
Dr. Gruesome, indeed. Pete shuddered at the reminder of the man who had answered Zeb’s advertisement two months ago. Scarecrow-thin with dirty fingernails and small, creepy eyes, the doctor in question had put all of them on edge.
Blessedly, Zeb had refused to hire the man. No one had argued, especially after the fiend had expressed an interest in exhuming some of the graves in the cemetery for his “research.”
“Despite my lack of success, I don’t regret starting the search.” Zeb’s eyes turned apologetic. “Maybe Sarah would still be alive if—”
“No, Zeb, Doc Dempsey did his best.” And even if Sarah had survived the birth, Pete wasn’t sure she would have ever been truly happy with him. He’d failed her long before that night.
“You can defend Doc all you want, but I still believe a younger man might have been able to save her.”
Pete looked sharply at his friend but didn’t respond. There was no use arguing a point in which they would never fully agree.
Zeb shook his head. “All this talk of death is making me edgy.” He turned toward his wagon and rubbed his hands together. “Let’s focus on why we’re here. Tonight’s the night. We’re going to find the twins before sunset.”
After climbing onto the front seat, he gave Pete a questioning stare. “You riding with me?”
“As always.”
While Pete settled in next to Zeb, Will mounted his horse. “I figure we’ll start on the north end of town.”
Zeb nodded. “Sounds good.”
Pete glanced at the empty flatbed and then fixed his gaze on the horizon. Lord, he prayed, may we fill this wagon with two healthy eight-year-olds before the night is through.
Chapter Nine
Thanks to a fitful night’s sleep, it took Rebecca twice as long as she’d planned to light the stove in Pete’s—her—kitchen. It hadn’t helped that she’d started the day feeling groggy and out of sorts. As a result, she’d dressed slower than usual, her fingers fumbling over the remaining two buttons.
Stirring the oatmeal with a methodical rhythm, she eyed the black beast in front of her with mild trepidation. She could have sworn she heard it growl twice already this morning. “Don’t you dare bite me, you big ugly beast.”
“Hadn’t planned on it.”
“Oh.” She jumped at the sound of Pete’s amused voice coming from the doorway. Embarrassed, she kept her back to him. “I didn’t know you were standing there.”
“I assumed.”
Finally turning to face him, she took a deep breath and admitted, “I wasn’t talking to you, you know.”
He lifted a single eyebrow.
The laughter in his eyes had her fumbling for words. “I was talking to this…beast of a stove.”
“A beast, huh?” Pete angled his head to glance around her. “It does look a little large in this room. I can get you another one, if this one is—”
“No. Oh, no. It’s fine.” She hadn’t meant to insult his furnishings on their very first morning together as husband and wife. “We just need to get used to each other, that’s all.”
She was talking about her and the stove, but Pete nodded sagely, as though she’d been speaking about them.
This is not going well, she thought.
“Sit.” She pointed to the small table against the wall. “Your breakfast is ready.”
“You made me breakfast?”
His shock would have been disheartening if she hadn’t recognized the genuine confusion behind the emotion. Hadn’t Sarah taken care of him? Or had it been so long he’d forgotten? “Of course I made you breakfast. It’s what a wife does for her husband.”
Blinking absently, he sank in the chair with a thud.
She quickly spooned oatmeal into a bowl and tried not to notice the dark
smudges under his eyes. He looked so tired this morning, more than she’d expected. No wonder. He’d arrived home late last night, just as he’d warned.
She’d been desperate to find out how the search for the twins had gone last night, but hadn’t possessed the nerve to leave her bedroom when he’d arrived home. Surely he would have woken her if the search had been successful.
Wouldn’t he?
She decided to ask him herself. Setting the bowl in front of him, she waited for him to take his first few bites before broaching the subject. “How did your search for the twins go last night?”
His hand froze for only a second before he placed the spoon very carefully onto the table. “We came up empty. Again.”
“Oh, Pete.” She placed her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” He swallowed. Hard. “Me, too.”
There was nothing more to say. And so they ate the rest of their meal in silence.
Rebecca nearly despaired they wouldn’t speak at all, but then Pete set his spoon down one final time and turned to look her straight in the eyes. “Would you like a tour of the rest of your new home?”
“The rest?” She looked over her shoulder, confused. Surely she’d seen everything there was to see last night.
“I meant the livery and smithy.”
“Oh. Yes. Yes, I would.” She rose quickly. “Let me clean up in here and then I’ll meet you in the…smithy?”
“No.” He shook his head. “The livery. Horses need tending first.”
“The livery, then.” She smiled at him, suddenly shy under his quiet scrutiny but determined to hold his gaze. “I’ll be there, as soon as I’m finished here.”
Fifteen minutes later, Rebecca found Pete in the livery feeding the horses. For a moment, she simply watched him move from stall to stall. With his voice pitched just above a whisper, he seemed at ease with the big creatures, and they with him. But there was something sorrowful in the way he held his shoulders, as though he carried more than his share of burdens. She wondered what was really on his mind.
She feared she’d never know. So many silent thoughts lay behind those beautiful eyes of his. And if breakfast was any indication of his tendencies, Pete was not a talkative man.
Will he ever share his secrets with me, Lord? Will we ever have a marriage filled with trust, tenderness and honesty?
Not if she didn’t take the first step. Breakfast had been awkward, but not terribly so. The thought gave her the courage to move in Pete’s direction. But just as she stepped forward a little black cat swiped at her ankle.
“Oh.” Rebecca jumped away from the attacking paw and softened her voice. “Hello, baby.”
The cat eyed her cautiously, but then rubbed its face against her calf. That was all the encouragement she needed to reach down and pick up the little creature.
“Don’t touch that cat,” Pete warned in an oddly panicked voice as he hurried toward them. “She’s feral. She might hurt you.”
His advice came too late. Rebecca already had the cat in her arms. Purring loudly. “I think she likes me.”
“Well, what do you know?”
The wonder in his voice pleased her. Deep in her heart, the secret place that longed for love, Rebecca wanted her new husband to like and admire her. But he was looking at her with such intensity, she lowered her gaze and proceeded to pay fervent attention to the bundle of fur in her arms.
For her part, the cat rubbed her head against Rebecca’s chin.
“She really does like you.” Pete’s voice slipped over her like a caress.
Entirely too aware of him, Rebecca raised her head again. And instantly lost her train of thought. Pete’s deep brown eyes were so savagely beautiful. And staring straight at her.
“Her name is Leroy,” he said.
“Leroy?” Rebecca forced herself to focus on their conversation, but she couldn’t seem to think clearly now that she had her husband’s undivided attention. “Isn’t that a boy’s name?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Oh.”
He smiled at her then, with unmistakable tenderness filling his gaze. There was something heady about having all that affection concentrated on her.
Mesmerized, Rebecca leaned forward. The movement was only a fraction of an inch, just a small shift of her shoulders. But Pete’s eyes darkened and he reached toward her.
Rebecca nearly forgot to breathe.
His hand stopped a whisper short of her face before he shifted and ran his fingertips along the cat’s fur. “It’s no wonder Leroy adores you.” His voice shook slightly as he spoke. “You’re a kind woman, Rebecca. Extremely likable.”
“You…you think so?”
“I do.” The back of his knuckles grazed her cheek for only a second, the touch so light she feared she’d imagined it.
Out of reflex, her grip tightened on the cat.
Leroy instantly struggled for freedom. Rebecca set her on the ground.
Nose in the air, tail sticking straight up, the cat proceeded to scamper off toward a far corner of the stable.
Rebecca watched until Leroy ducked inside an empty stall. Feeling suddenly shy, she returned her gaze to Pete. Alone with him now, her heart pounded wildly against her ribs.
“Pete, I—”
“Rebecca, I—”
They laughed uncomfortably at each other.
Pete nodded for her to proceed. “You first.”
“All right.” She ignored the dull drumming in her ears. “I’m ready for my tour.”
“Follow me.” For the next few moments he walked her through the stable, pointing out various places of interest, and then introducing her to the horses by name.
“And, finally, this is Star.” He stopped in front of the last stall and stroked his hand down a long, brown nose. “Do you want to help me groom her?”
“I…yes, I’d like that.”
He tossed her a brush he retrieved off a hook by the stall. In the next instant, he raked his fingers through his hair.
Turning the brush over in her palm, Rebecca followed the movement of his hand with her gaze. She couldn’t help but wonder what the thick waves would feel like between her own fingers. She would probably never know, of course. Married or not, an intimate gesture like playing with her husband’s hair would be entirely too bold, especially given the unusual circumstances surrounding their union.
Sighing, she waited until Pete led the way into the stall. Side by side, they brushed the horse’s hide in slow, downward strokes. Neither spoke for several minutes.
Then Pete stopped abruptly and turned to face her. “Now that you’re here, maybe we should talk about last night.”
Her hand stilled.
He stepped closer to her, sweeping away a curl that had fallen across her forehead. “I need to explain myself better.”
There was regret in his eyes, the kind of silent apology that meant nothing would change between them, no matter what he said in the next few minutes. “I originally asked you to marry me to stop the gossip and restore your good name. But after Edward’s fight, I realized there were dangers far worse than wagging tongues. I knew if you were living in my house, as my wife, I could protect you from all the threats. Threats that wouldn’t have existed had you not spent time alone with me in my storm cellar.”
His declaration came as no surprise. She’d already suspected the reasons behind both of his proposals. What she didn’t understand was his uncertain tone and the apology in his gaze.
“I know all this, Pete.” She reached up and touched the wedding band hanging around his neck. “But now that we’re married, what’s to say we can’t have a real marriage?”
“No, Rebecca.” He took a step away from her. His gaze was full of mixed emotions. “Let me finish before you say anything more.”
She nodded, but found she had to pull her bottom lip between her teeth to keep it from trembling.
After a moment, he took a deep pull of air and continued. “I didn’t al
low myself to think beyond the immediate problem at hand. I…” His words trailed off and he blinked at her.
“Go on,” she urged.
“What I’m trying to say is that we need to get to know one another better before we make any decisions about the future of our marriage.”
Even though she knew what he meant, and somewhat agreed with the sentiment, even though she knew it would be best to leave the conversation alone, she found herself asking the obvious question aloud. “And what if we decide we don’t like each other? What then?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let’s—”
“Hey, Pete,” a deep voice called out from the livery’s doorway. “You in there?”
With a look of masculine relief on his face, Pete moved another two full steps away from her. “Yeah, Clint. We’re back here with Star.”
“We?” The sound of footsteps accompanied the question. “Is Edward feeling good enough to get out of bed today?”
“No. I’m showing my wife around the livery.” The soft look in his eyes, coupled with the confident way he said “my wife,” sent a shiver through Rebecca.
“Oh. I see.” The footsteps stopped and Rebecca pivoted around to face the newcomer.
Looking at her directly, the cowboy’s face turned bright red. “Hi, Rebecca. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
Remembering the last time she’d seen the lanky cowboy, her heart filled with compassion. He’d been undeniably miserable as he’d watched Cassandra Garrison riding in her buggy with Percival Walker.
“Don’t worry, Clint.” She hoped her smile spread to her eyes. “I was just heading over to the boardinghouse to start preparations for lunch.”
His eyes lit up. “You wouldn’t happen to be serving apple pie for dessert?”
She laughed at the obvious interest in her cooking. “Oh, I think I could arrange to bake an apple pie or two this morning.”
“Now, that’s what I like to hear.” He slapped a hand on his thigh. “I just might have to make time for lunch at the boardinghouse today. If that’s all right with you, Pete?”
