A Marriage In Wyoming (The Marshall Brothers 3)

by Lynnette Kent

  Nevertheless, she dressed in her nice jeans and a long-sleeved shirt and made her way out to the ranch. She arrived just as the kids emerged from the bunkhouse and joined them beside a pickup truck with high sides to the bed, which had been filled with bales of hay.

  “There you are.” Garrett came around the rear of the vehicle. “Obviously, it’s a hayride. Come aboard.” He held her hand as she climbed onto the bumper of the truck and then clambered in after her. “Here’s a nice sturdy bale.” They sat down together, their hips and the sides of their thighs touching. “Ford’s driving, so we’re in steady hands.”

  The truck bed was crowded with the teenagers, plus Susannah Bradley and her daughter. “This is scratchy stuff,” Amber said. “I don’t want to sit here.”

  “Sit on my lap,” Garrett said. “I’m not scratchy.”

  Amber crawled across the hay and onto his knees. He wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her steady.

  “That’s better,” she announced. She looked over at Rachel. “I like Mr. Garrett. He tells good stories.”

  “Does he? What kind of stories?”

  “Bible stories. They’re in-intersting. Do you tell stories?”

  “I haven’t had anybody to tell stories to.”

  “You can tell me a story.”

  “Right now?”

  She nodded vigorously, her curls bouncing around her head.

  “Um…well…”

  “Once upon a time,” Amber prompted.

  “Once upon a time,” Rachel said, frantically searching her brain for a plot, “there was a lady who…who traveled to a new country where she didn’t know anybody.”

  “Why did she go there?”

  “She wanted to start a shop. Selling…um…”

  “Medicines,” Garrett said. “That she made herself.”

  “Right.” She’d take all the help she could get. “One day when she was traveling through this new country, she came to a little cottage which would be perfect for her shop. When she knocked on the door, an elf opened it.”

  “With pointed ears?” Amber asked.

  Rachel nodded. “An elf with pointed ears. He was busy hammering nails, painting walls and making the shop ready to be used. But when the lady asked him if she could sell her medicines there, he insisted she would have to undertake three quests before he would allow her inside.”

  Amber clapped her hands. “I like quests.”

  A lucky guess. “Well, the elf told the lady that her first quest would be to bring him an apple from the orchard of the witch who lived in the nearby forest. Her apples gave extra kindness to all who ate them, but the witch refused to share them with anyone. So the lady set out—”

  “What’s her name?” Amber asked.

  “Oh…um, Melody.”

  The little girl nodded. “That’s pretty.”

  “So Melody set out to find the witch’s house in the middle of the forest. The path was dangerous, with bears lurking in the shadows, snakes coiled in her way, and a huge swamp to cross filled with hungry alligators and sharp-toothed fish.”

  Amber’s eyes were wide with expectation. Rachel glanced around and saw that the other kids were listening, too.

  She swallowed hard and continued. “Melody managed to avoid the bears and the snakes, and she crossed the swamp to find the witch’s house. But when she asked the witch for an apple, the witch said, ‘You’ll have to do something for me first. You’ll have to weed my garden before the sun goes down. Then I’ll give you an apple.’

  “The garden around the house was such a mess, Melody didn’t believe she could possibly make it neat in a week, much less an afternoon. She was determined to try, however, and she set to work. Soon she realized she had helpers—the birds and the deer who lived in the forest came out to assist her in cleaning up the weeds. By the time the sun started to set, the place was neat and tidy. When the witch saw her garden, she was amazed, and she gave Melody a basket of apples to carry with her, plus a charm to keep away all danger on the way through the woods.”

  “I bet the elf was mad about that,” Amber said.

  “He was definitely not happy when Melody brought him a whole basket of apples. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘the second quest is much more difficult. You must go to the wizard who lives in a cave by the river and bring me…’” Rachel hesitated, at a loss.

  “A bottle of the Water of Knowledge,” Lizzie suggested.

  Rachel smiled at her. “Exactly. The Water of Knowledge. When she asked the wizard for the Water of Knowledge, he said that first she would have to clean his cave, including the floor, which was covered with dirt.”

  At that moment, the truck angled off the smooth road they’d been traveling and onto a narrow track. The ride suddenly got much rougher as they drove over ruts and rocks. Pine trees now loomed on both sides, blocking out the sun.

  “How did she clean the cave?” Amber had the most secure seat of them all, on Garrett’s lap. Everyone else was getting bounced around.

  “The river rose up over its banks,” Rachel said, “and scoured all the dirt out of the cave, leaving the stone floor and walls shining. The wizard was so impressed, he had no choice but to give Melody a bottle of the Water of Knowledge.”

  With a jerk, the truck came to a stop. “We’ve arrived,” Garrett said, letting go of Amber. “Welcome to Fort Marshall.” He jumped to the ground and turned to lift the little girl down, then held a hand out to Rachel. “Careful, now.”

  With her hand in his she jumped, very conscious of the contact between his skin and hers. She pulled away quickly. “Fort Marshall?”

  He helped Susannah down and then the three girls. “Wyatt discovered this place when we were teenagers. Mr. MacPherson didn’t know about it. We made it into our private retreat.”

  On one side of the clearing, a wide creek rushed and tumbled over its rocky bed, bordered by large boulders, some the size of small cars. Nearby, a plateau of wide, flat stones created the perfect setting for a campfire, with the open sky above and plenty of room for gathering near the flames.

  The kids had scattered across the area, exploring the possibilities. Lizzie and Becky stood on the edge of the dense forest, staring into the darkness within. Nate and Amber were collecting pebbles on a narrow strip of sand at the edge of the stream, while Marcos and Thomas had started climbing the bigger rocks. Justino and Lena sat together, totally immersed in each other, as usual.

  Following Garrett’s lead, Rachel carried an armload of firewood from the truck to the fire circle, where Ford had begun building what resembled a tepee of sticks.

  She set down her logs and brushed off her shirt. “Is this the same creek where we had the picnic last week?”

  “Another branch of it,” he said. “But both spots are part of Crazy Woman Creek.”

  “That sounds as if there’s a legend involved.”

  Garrett nodded. “A white woman had her family killed by Native Americans.”

  “Or—” Dylan brought another load of logs “—a Native woman had her family killed by whites. Take your pick.”

  “Is there a third option?” Rachel asked. “Maybe an old woman living on her own who mixed up strange medicine brews?”

  “Or who ran a still and sold moonshine,” Garrett said with a wink.

  “Excellent! We can rewrite the mythology.” Sharing the laughter of the moment, Rachel found her gaze caught by his. His kindness and good nature, the warmth of his smile and the encouragement in his eyes, all urged her to drop her defenses and accept the closeness he offered.

  “Thomas, Marcos! Come back this way. It’s getting too dark to go so far.”

  At the sound of Caroline’s voice, Garrett frowned and looked away, breaking their connection. “What’s the problem? Where did they escape to?”

  Caroline stood by the creek with her hands on her hips, clearly exasperated. “Upstream. I can’t even be sure they heard me call. No, wait, Thomas is coming.” They watched as the boy negotiated his way across the biggest
boulders until he finally reached the smaller stones and could climb down to the ground.

  “There’s this pool up there,” he said, his tan face flushed with excitement and exertion. “It has frogs and fish and stuff in it. It’s really neat.”

  “But where’s Marcos?” Caroline asked. “Why didn’t he come with you?”

  Thomas shrugged. “He’s being stupid. Said he’d come when he was ready.”

  “I’ll fetch him.” Garrett pushed up his shirtsleeves. “We don’t want him scrambling around on the rocks in the dark.” Though it was still light in the clearing, the shadows between the trees had lengthened.

  “You’re going to climb after him?” Rachel put a hand on his arm. “There’s not another way around?”

  He shook his head. “Don’t worry—when we came out here as kids, we’d take our poles up to that pool to catch the fish. They were always too smart for us, of course, but it was fun trying. I remember the way. I’ll be fine.”

  Setting a foot on a low stone, he started to scale the nearest boulder, his movements sure and steady. Rachel watched as he crossed from rock to rock, crouching low in places to use his hands for balance, gripping a tree here or a shrub there to make his way across a gap. As far as she could tell, he didn’t take a single misstep.

  “He really does know the way,” she said to Caroline, when he’d disappeared from sight. “They must have come here often as boys.”

  “Ford says they did. They certainly enjoy these nights out, and the kids do, too. Wyatt hates having to miss the campfires. But his back just isn’t ready for the roughness of the road.”

  “He’s smart to be careful. Spine injuries are tricky, and I’m sure he wants to heal properly.”

  Caroline chuckled. “Mostly, he’s just dying to get back in the saddle. If we’d allow it, he’d probably try riding tomorrow.”

  “Men hate being out of commission.”

  “Isn’t that the truth? They believe they’re immortal. Just like teenagers. Oh, look, there’s Marcos. And Garrett behind him.”

  Marcos came slowly over the rocks, occasionally uncertain about which move to make next. Garrett spoke to him a couple of times, perhaps offering advice or encouragement. The boy hesitated at the top of the biggest and last boulder, staring down at the ground but evidently unsure of how to get there.

  Garrett didn’t push him forward but waited patiently for Marcos to dredge up his own courage. And he did, finally, with a grin that signaled pride in his accomplishment.

  “Good job,” Garrett said when he came down himself with a few quick, confident steps. “Now you can go sit in the truck.” Marcos stalked off, scowling. “I figured he needed an immediate consequence,” he said to Rachel. “He won’t enjoy tonight after disobeying Caroline.”

  The sky above the trees had darkened to a dusky blue, bringing twilight to the clearing. Ford’s fire had started up nicely, its cheerful crackling an invitation to sit near the flames.

  “Can I offer you a seat?” Garrett gestured to a place on the circle.

  “You must have some great memories of being here,” Rachel said as he sat down beside her. “This kind of experience would be hard to forget.”

  “We spent many a night rolled up in our sleeping bags, watching the stars. Or telling ghost stories—Ford was the best at making up scary tales. We didn’t always have it easy after our parents died, but we stuck together. So, yeah, we’ve got lots of great times to look back on. And we’re still having them.” His gaze rested on her face. “What about you?”

  “Me?” She watched as a log fell and sparks shot up out of the fire.

  “What do you remember about your teenage years?”

  Chapter Eight

  Rachel didn’t answer for so long that Garrett had almost decided she wasn’t going to.

  “My mom worked two jobs,” she said at last, still staring at the fire. “And she was sick a lot. But sometimes, when she had a Saturday or a Sunday off, we would get in the car and just drive. Up into the mountains or out over the plains, for hours, singing along with the radio. She didn’t care if I couldn’t carry a tune, because she couldn’t, either. We’d turn the volume all the way up, roll the windows down and enjoy ourselves.”

  Garrett grinned. “Sounds like a terrific experience.”

  She nodded. “We’d stop to eat in some diner or truck stop, and she’d always ignore her diet and order the cheeseburger and onion rings. ‘You only live once,’ she’d say, and enjoy every bite. Then we’d drive home by a different route, just to see what could be seen. It was such a sense of freedom, driving with no destination, only the potential of the unknown ahead. I loved those days.”

  “That’s quite a gift to give a child—a sense of freedom and possibility.”

  “She was certain I’d go to medical school, though the prospects, when you’re living on the edge of poverty, aren’t promising. And she was always sure her newest boyfriend would be the prince she’d been waiting for. My mom was a great one for believing in possibilities. Or, for that matter, impossibilities.”

  At last we’re getting somewhere. Garrett waited, hoping she would say more.

  Then he saw Amber making her careful way across the fire circle, being sure to stay well away from the flames. She came to stand in front of Rachel.

  “Can you finish the story?” she asked.

  Rachel cleared her throat. “Now might not be the best time…”

  But the teenagers encouraged her. “Please finish,” Becky said.

  Nate, who rarely said anything, agreed. “We want the third quest.”

  Before she could start, however, Amber turned around and then backed up to sit herself down in Rachel’s lap. “Now you can tell the story,” the little girl said.

  “Okay, then,” the doctor said, laughing. “Where was I?”

  Lizzie answered. “The wizard gave her his magic boat to get across the river.”

  “Right. Melody took the bottle of the Water of Knowledge to the elf in the cottage. He, of course, was very unhappy that she’d completed the second quest. ‘The third quest is the hardest of all,’ he warned her. ‘You must go to the dragon who lives in the mountains and return with the fire from his throat.’”

  Garrett was reasonably sure that Rachel had never told a fairy tale to a five-year-old before, let alone a group of teenagers and adults. But she made good work of the story, detailing the heroine’s journey through the treacherous mountains populated with ravenous lions and evil gnomes. After fighting through an avalanche, she reached the dragon’s lair and came face-to-face with the monster himself.

  “What color is the dragon?” Amber wanted to know.

  Rachel had learned a trick or two this evening. “What color should he be?”

  “Purple. With shiny green eyes.”

  “So Melody asked the purple dragon for some of his fire to light the lantern she’d brought with her. But—”

  “She has to do something first.” Amber rested her head against Rachel’s shoulder. “What does she have to do?”

  Rachel explained that Melody would have to count all of the dragon’s gold coins, which filled up most of his cavern. And she would have to do it before nightfall. Fortunately, an army of ants came to her aid, and she counted all the coins in the time allowed. Pleased to learn just how much gold he had, the dragon breathed on her lantern and gave her a flame to take to the elf, along with a coat that made her invisible to the lions and the gnomes.

  “Unfortunately,” Rachel said, “the coat couldn’t protect her against the rain, which fell as she traveled through the mountains. Melody spent the whole night huddled over the lantern, hoping to keep the storm from putting out the flame. She almost despaired, but in the morning, just before dawn, the rain stopped and she saw that the fire from the dragon still burned.

  “She carried the lantern to the elf. ‘Now you have the Apples of Kindness,’ he said, ‘the Water of Knowledge and the Fire of Skill. These three gifts will make you a wise medicine wom
an for all who seek your help.’ Then he vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving Melody free to use the cottage as she wished.” Rachel paused a moment. “The end.”

  Someone—probably Caroline—started to applaud, and the teenagers quickly joined in, adding their own approving comments. “Excellent!”

  “All right!” and even, “Not bad,” from Thomas.

  Their storyteller held up a hand. “I’m glad you all enjoyed it. But I know someone else who has vanished.” She glanced down at Amber. “Into sleep.”

  Susannah started to stand. “I’ll take her—”

  “I’ll hold her till we leave,” Rachel said. “There’s no sense in waking her up now.”

  Garrett liked how she looked with a child in her arms but doubted that she would appreciate the sentiment. “How about some music?” he asked Ford instead.

  Rachel’s delight showed in her face. “We get to have music? That’s terrific!”

  In fact, he learned over the next hour just how much Rachel Vale loved music, as Ford played his guitar and the kids sang along. She knew the rap lyrics and pop tunes the kids liked, as well as the old standards and folk songs they’d grown up with. And, no, she couldn’t carry a tune, but she hummed anyway—quietly, for Amber’s benefit.

  “Your family has more than its share of talent,” she commented after a rousing rendition of “On Top of Spaghetti.” “All of you sing, and Ford plays, as well. I’m quite impressed.”

  “And you tell stories, so we’re even.”

  She winced. “It wasn’t really a very good story. I’ve never done it off the top of my head before.”

  “Hey, you kept their interest, which is what matters. But at this point, unless I’m very much mistaken, it’s time for—”

  Thomas called out across the general conversation. “Can we have s’mores now?”

  Garrett got to his feet. “I’ll be right back.” He returned from the truck with a basket containing the evening’s snack. Walking around the circle, he handed each person a small plastic bag filled with the treat Susannah had prepared—a combination of cereals, dried fruits, nuts and chocolate candies. “We’re trying something different tonight.”