Margaret Brownley, Robin Lee Hatcher, Mary Connealy, Debra Clopton

by A Bride for All Seasons

  Ellie scarcely heard Maggie, she was so intent on the child.

  Sniffing, she blinked away tears of joy and thanked God for leading her here. She could endure whatever was to come for the chance to be a mother to this motherless child.

  Sophie popped her thumb from her mouth and gave a toothless smile. “Doll.” She held up her doll to Ellie.

  Ellie knelt, tucked her skirts beneath her, and leaned close to Sophie. “She’s a very pretty doll,” she said, touching the rag doll’s threaded hair, then touching Sophie’s curls too. “You are beautiful, Sophie.”

  Sophie touched Ellie’s cheek tenderly. Maggie clucked her tongue and looked at Ellie. “She’s two years old and doesn’t try to talk much. I’m a little worried about that. Sophie, this is your mama,” she said, grunting as she stooped down. Ellie sucked in a sharp breath. She wasn’t married to Mathew yet, so strictly speaking she wasn’t her mama yet. However, from the moment she’d read his ad in the Hitching Post, Ellie’s heart had been lassoed tight to this child. There was no letting go.

  “Ma-ma,” Sophie said, smiling up at Ellie. She stood and reached out with her damp hand to grab a fistful of Ellie’s blond curls. “Mama.”

  “Wonderful.” Maggie beamed at Sophie’s words.

  Ellie reached for the baby and cuddled her close. When Sophie giggled, Ellie knew this was as close to heaven as she would ever feel here on earth. Ellie’s arms tightened on the child and she felt the hope of love. All of Ellie’s life she’d longed for the love of another human being, longed to know what it felt like. If she lavished love on Sophie, there was hope that Sophie would return that love.

  And if she did the same to Mathew, there was a chance . . . Surely love could blossom. She just had to play by his rules and be a good wife, and there was hope. Always hope.

  “Maggie, thanks for watching Sophie.” Mathew’s strong voice broke into Ellie’s thoughts.

  Putting one hand on her knee, Maggie pushed up from her kneeling position. Her grimace of pain made it easy to tell the action was hard on her.

  “You’re welcome. I’m happy you’ve got this pretty little gal to soon call wife. Look at how your baby girl has taken to her new ma.”

  Hugging Sophie to her, Ellie smiled when the child’s pudgy hand let go of her hair and flattened gently against her cheek. Her heart tightened at the touch and dug deep, the bond strong and swift. Mathew was unsmiling as he studied them. His dark eyes emotionless and his full, wide lips flattened in a grim line. Unease quivered in her belly.

  “I think our Mathew isn’t good at smiling,” she quipped nervously, her gaze darting from him to Maggie who had punched her fist to her ample hips and was studying Mathew as well. At Ellie’s words, Maggie threw back her head and hooted with laughter.

  “Pegged him right off, ya did, Ellie. Our Mathew is scarce on smiles and even more scarce on talk.” She grinned. “I think with that sparkle of mischief I see in your blue eyes you might just be the one to tug both from the depths of him.”

  Mathew’s brows dipped. Once again Ellie thought the man cute with that scowl on his handsome face. But there was trouble in his eyes.

  What pain was he fighting behind all of those scowls and gruff words?

  “She’s darling, Mathew. Just a sweet, sweet girl,” she said.

  He’d removed his hat upon entering and now he tapped it against his thigh. “Then I guess we should be going over to the pastor’s place.”

  “Mercy’s sakes this is a great day,” Maggie said. “A great day indeed. Well, what are you waiting for, Ellie? Jump up and get yourself hitched to that handsome lump of smiles standing over there.”

  Ellie stood and glanced again at Mathew. Nope, she hadn’t missed it.

  He was not smiling.

  The man, when not scowling, was probably the most handsome man Ellie had ever seen. Something about him, that chiseled jaw, those dark, fathomless eyes that seemed to penetrate every dark corner of her being when he looked at her. That long, lean body . . . Yes, Mathew McConnell by far took the Most Handsome Man prize, and she was about to be his wife. It was amazing. But that being said, the man would obviously not have any trouble finding a wife. She hadn’t missed the way the few ladies she’d seen walking along the streets of Honey Springs looked at him. So why had he resorted to sending that ad to the Hitching Post? She knew why she had. But why him?

  She was suddenly struck by how alone he looked standing in that doorway.

  Maybe he was heartbroken. Maybe he would always love his first wife. Maybe that was why God had led her here. Maybe she was here to help him smile again. Just like he and his baby were helping her have a new, bright future.

  Ellie halted her runaway thoughts and stilled the nerves that were making her ramble on in her head.

  Maybe she should just calm down. “I will never leave you or forsake you . . .” Her nerves eased as she repeated Joshua 1:5 once more. She’d been repeating that verse all across Texas, tossing and bumping inside that stagecoach bound for this. The good Lord had repeated Himself to Joshua four times to get it through to him. And Joshua being such a mighty man of God and all, she wasn’t feeling too bad that she needed far more reminders than four.

  “I’m ready—we’re ready,” she amended, hugging Sophie tightly, then she followed Mathew out the door.

  Less than an hour after leaving Maggie’s with Melvina and Sophie, Mathew was standing in the preacher’s small study staring down into her disconcerting blue eyes. There was trust in those eyes and it unsettled him more than he wanted it to. She’d said to call her Ellie, but he’d continued to call her the more formal Melvina. She’d seemed startled when he’d said it, but she’d yet to mention it. He was glad. The last thing he wanted to explain was that calling her Ellie would be far more personal than he felt comfortable with.

  “Take hands, please,” Reverend Jacobs instructed.

  Melvina lifted her hand, hesitated, and then, holding his gaze, she held it out to him. Swallowing a lump that suddenly lodged in his throat, Mathew took her slender fingers in his.

  “Melvina Eldora Smith, do you take this man, Mathew McConnell, to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Reverend Jacobs asked, his deep voice reverberating through the small room.

  Mathew felt Melvina’s hand tense in his. Her fingers trembled slightly and her gaze faltered momentarily before she nodded, and a small, gentle smile appeared. “I do,” she said at last.

  Mathew’s heart weighed heavy in his chest.

  “Mathew McConnell, do you take this woman, Melvina Eldora Smith, as your lawfully wedded wife, promising to love, honor, and protect her in sickness and in health, till death do you part?” Mathew tried not to think about the word “love” as he nodded his head, then spoke clearly, “I do.”

  In his heart of hearts he knew he could do everything the oath required except offer his love. Love had never been part of the deal. However, looking into Melvina’s eyes and seeing the sweet smile she gave him, he felt an unreasonable tug of guilt.

  This was a practical marriage, he reminded himself. He’d stated it clearly from the beginning. Why then, he wondered as the Reverend Jacobs pronounced them husband and wife, did he feel like he’d just done something terribly wrong?

  “There’s the house.”

  They’d just rounded a bend in the dusty track that wove through a stand of oaks. A hawk watched them from one of the tallest trees and a couple of red birds played tag against the blue sky. Ellie had been so lost in thought that she’d been missing the beauty surrounding them.

  Tall, full oaks grew in clumps through expanses of scraggly mesquite trees. Ranch land stretched out from there, and they’d passed several streams where longhorn cattle grazed nearby and drank their fill. Mathew had told her these were his cattle and as far as she could see was his ranch land. She’d been startled by the size of it. Dusk was setting in. He’d said when he had hurried her from Maggie’s that they’d have to be quick with the ceremony in order to make it to the house before
nightfall.

  He hadn’t been joking. His ranch was about three miles from town, but that was just the boundary of it. If Ellie had wanted to live in the country, she was getting her wish.

  “It’s lovely.” Built from stone and plank, the tidy-looking one-story house had a wide, welcoming porch. The front door was flanked by windows on either side and weathered gray. Both ends of the house had large stone chimneys.

  “Did you build this?” she asked, amazed.

  “I hope it will do,” Mathew said, not looking at her. “Because there’s too much work on the ranch needing my attention right now to take time to change anything.”

  “Change, why? It is absolutely the most charming place in the world. It’s amazing.” She and Aunt Millicent had lived in the home she’d been born in—the home her mother died in. Though it was nice, it had been far too stuffy for Ellie’s taste. Over the years her aunt had been forced to take in sewing and had opened a dress store in the front parlor. She kept the rest of the house as a sort of shrine to the years she’d lost before Ellie had destroyed all their lives.

  Ellie discovered the inside of the ranch house was just as impressive. It was easy to see that a woman had helped put the place in order in the cozy way the spacious living room and kitchen were situated. Three chairs and the wall bench were to one side, anchored in a warm, inviting way by a colorful rag rug and pillows that blended with it. The kitchen table was long and hand built from the gnarled trunks of the abundant mesquite trees, the top made of oak.

  On the opposite side of the house, nearest the kitchen with its big stone fireplace, there was another room. Mathew carried her valise into that room. She followed him and stopped dead in her tracks, clutching the still-sleeping Sophie in her arms. The room was dominated by a fireplace that was smaller than the kitchen’s and a large bed that sat next to a single window. There were no colorful rugs on the floor or pillows in the rocking chair that sat in the corner by the baby bed. Even so, the room drew her in. And shook her insides up like nothing she’d ever experienced as dawning suddenly began to set in . . . this was their bedroom.

  Mathew set her valise down at the foot of the bed, then moved past her to the door. “I’ll bring your chest in after I take care of the livestock.” And then he was gone. And it was a good thing since Ellie felt certain he could hear her reckless heart making an outlandish racket inside her chest.

  Where would Mathew sleep?

  Oh goodness! She’d been so caught up in Sophie and the wedding that her nerves about . . . her wedding night had somehow shrunk to the recesses of her mind.

  Crossing the room, she kissed Sophie on the forehead and gently placed her in her bed. Then, chewing her bottom lip, she eyed that big stuffed bed.

  MATHEW WAS HOLDING A PITCHFORK FULL OF HAY when Melvina stormed into the barn. Despite the sun having dipped low and the dim light in the barn, he could see that her eyes flashed fire.

  “I need to get something straight, something I somehow overlooked in my excitement of the day,” she said, wringing her hands as she spoke, her cheeks flushed.

  He tossed the hay over the stall to the milk cow, then jabbed the fork into the ground and leaned his elbow on the end of the handle. “Okay,” he said, not sure at all what to make of this outburst.

  “I . . . I need some time to . . . before . . .” She paused, her hand coming up to touch one of her burning cheeks.

  Alarm hit him. “Are you feeling ill?”

  “No. I need . . . Oh, fiddle.” She stomped her foot and stuffed her hands onto her slim hips. “I’m not ready.”

  “Ready? For what?”

  “I hadn’t expected to share a room with you immediately,” she blurted.

  “Share a room?”

  “Yes, I . . . I thought there would be two rooms. I . . . I’ve only known you for a few hours.”

  Her meaning dawned on him finally. “I moved my things into the tack room yesterday.”

  “Oh,” she squeaked. “I see.”

  Her gaze swung to the door of the tack room. It was opened just enough that the cot could be seen. “It’s not much of a room.”

  He hitched an eyebrow at her. “Until I have time to add on another room at the house, it will do.”

  Her head snapped. “Another room?”

  “Another room, Melvina. I married you to be a mother to Sophie. That’s all.”

  Her brows crinkled and her chest moved up and down rapidly as she took several quick breaths. Her hands came to her cheeks, then dropped to her sides. “I see,” she said quietly. “Right. A practical wife.” Then she turned and walked briskly back the way she’d come.

  He knew he should go after her. Explain. Instead, he stood in the middle of the barn he’d built for the life he’d planned to have with Beth. He’d needed a mother for Sophie. He planned to keep her around. He’d married Melvina, given her his name and his protection. He wouldn’t risk her life, or his heart—not this time. Not ever again.

  No, he’d learned his lesson well. This was all he had to give.

  Standing outside exploring her surroundings with Sophie on her hip, Ellie still couldn’t believe it had been a week since she’d married Mathew and become Sophie’s mother. Looking up at the summer sun, its heat pelting down on them, she felt its warmth radiating through her. Though things weren’t exactly as she’d expected them to be, it had been the best week of her life.

  “There’s my good girl.” Ellie laughed, swinging a giggling baby Sophie into her arms. Sophie was a dream, and taking care of her filled Ellie’s heart to bursting.

  Then again, Sophie’s daddy had her wanting to burst something over his head! She’d tried to help by taking care of the small chores around the yard like milking the cow and feeding the chickens. Mathew had told her a stern no. He’d said that taking care of Sophie and the household chores like washing and cooking should keep her plenty busy. He’d take care of the rest. She’d almost told him she’d spent time on Mister Clute’s ranch, but she was trying so hard not to be argumentative, to be the wife Mathew wanted, that she’d held back and done as he’d asked.

  Ellie had so looked forward to being a rancher’s wife and getting involved with the ranching side of things. Even helping to round up cattle and such—but he’d cut her off before she could tell him that.

  Not that she wasn’t having a wonderful time with Sophie—she was. But . . . she’d hoped to fulfill that secret passion too.

  Besides, without help, Mathew was hardly around and that wasn’t good for Sophie either. Ellie wondered if he was avoiding them because of the way she’d confronted him about the household arrangements. The encounter had knocked her off solid ground and she was shaken. She hadn’t wanted to give him the rights of a husband on the very first day that they had met and married. However . . . she hadn’t counted on never knowing Mathew as a husband. On never carrying a child of her own. The discovery stung like a slap.

  And he was barely around, leaving early in the mornings and showing up late each night to grab a bite before disappearing to his quarters.

  Yet she thought about him almost every minute of the day. It was maddening.

  “We’re doing fine, Sophie. Just you and me,” Ellie said.

  “Pru-dy!” Sophie squealed just as the rumble of hooves sounded behind them.

  Spinning around, Ellie was shocked to see a brown mule charging toward them. The hairy beast barreled down on them with the speed of a wild mustang, lips pressed back, huge teeth bared.

  Ellie screamed, hugging Sophie to her chest. Ellie raced toward the closest building, the barn. She had to protect Sophie. She had to!

  “Pru-dy!” Sophie squealed again, looking over Ellie’s shoulder. Is she trying to say pretty? Ellie wondered as she ran. Or tried to run. Her skirts tangled against her legs. Thick and cumbersome, the dratted clothing had her tripping and shuffling as she ran. Holding the armload of child to her, she didn’t have extra hands to hold them up—petticoats were a curse!

  Ellie had made i
t past the watering trough when she pitched forward. Trying to protect Sophie, Ellie twisted around and hit the ground on her back. The air whumphed out of her in a rush so strong she couldn’t get it back. Gasping for new air, struggling, Ellie could only flounder helplessly on the ground, flat on her back, unable to breathe.

  Laughing, unaware of the danger befalling them, Sophie sat on top of Ellie and clapped her pudgy hands together. Ellie heaved for air as the child giggled and the crazed mule plowed toward them. Just when Ellie thought they would be trampled for certain, the animal slid to a halt, plopped down on its haunches, and began to lick Sophie’s cheek!

  Mathew had lost more cattle. He’d found a spot where his fence had been deliberately cut. He was certain he had rustlers. He just had to find them. But right now he was headed home. He had to talk to Melvina.

  He’d hurt her somehow. He could see the hurt in her eyes this morning.

  And it ate at him all day.

  But he didn’t know how to fix it. He could only offer her what he had to give, and that wasn’t his heart. He’d topped the last hill for home when he spotted Prudence thundering toward Melvina with baby Sophie in her arms. Mathew spurred his horse to a gallop, hoping to intercept the alarmed mule. But he’d been too far away to prevent the scene before him. He could only watch Ell—Melvina flying across the yard as if someone had lit a fire to her skirt.

  Mathew arrived just after she flipped to the ground like a flapjack. He threw himself from the saddle, despite the almost full gallop, hitting the ground at a run. “Ellie, are you all right?” he asked.

  Sliding to a stop, he pushed Prudy away. It was a hard thing to do since the mule thought Sophie was half hers.

  Ellie’s eyes were wide as she struggled to breathe, wheezing and gasping for air.

  The fall must have knocked her breath out of her. He lifted Sophie from her chest in the hopes that removing the weight of the plump baby girl would enable her to breathe again. “Come on, Ellie, take a breath,” he urged gently. With his guard down because of his concern, calling her Ellie slipped naturally into place. It was more personal than he’d wanted to allow them to get, but it felt right. Partly because the name did fit her personality.