A Marriage In Wyoming (The Marshall Brothers 3)

by Lynnette Kent

  Thomas stared at the bag with suspicion. “What is this, rabbit food?”

  “Trail mix,” Garrett explained. “It’s good. And good for you.”

  “No s’mores?” Lizzie asked. “Really?”

  “Taste this,” Caroline suggested. “It’s got chocolate in it.”

  “We always have s’mores.” Nate held his bag without opening it. “Why the change?”

  “Because of me.” Lena stood up. “You did this because of me.”

  Garrett faced her. “It doesn’t hurt any of us to try a different, less sugary snack for once.”

  “You didn’t trust me to make the right choice,” she said. “You figured I would eat a s’more.”

  “I hoped this would make the right choice easier for you.”

  “And now you’ve ruined the campfire for everybody and it’s my fault.” She stomped across the fire circle and threw her plastic bag in the basket. Tears streaked her cheeks. “They all hate me because they can’t have s’mores. Thanks a lot.”

  Crying in earnest, Lena strode away from the firelight. When she reached the truck, Marcos shone his flashlight to help her climb in the back, where she sat as far from him as she could manage.

  Garrett blew out a short breath. “Okay. Eat up, everybody. Then we’ll sing some more.”

  But the heart had gone out of the evening. Ford tried to get some songs going but ended up in a trio with Caroline and Dylan while the kids sat mute. A short while later, Garrett doused the fire and ushered the teenagers into the truck for the drive to the ranch. Unlike previous campfire trips, there was no cheerful chatter on the way, no flashlight duels. In the face of such resistance, even the adults were quiet.

  Once they reached the barn, the kids dispersed without the usual curfew protests. The first to get down, Lena headed directly toward the girls’ cabin. Justino tried to follow her, but she shook her head and waved him away. He stood staring after her, as if she might relent. When she didn’t, he slowly trailed the other boys into the bunkhouse and closed the door.

  Standing beside the truck with his brothers, Caroline and Rachel, Garrett rubbed a hand over his face. “That was a disaster. Who could guess s’mores would be such a big deal?” When no one said anything, he answered himself. “I should have, obviously. It was my mistake and I have to fix it. But how?”

  “Maybe you should go in and talk to Lena,” Caroline said. “Explain you were just trying to make things easier for her. Now that she’s calmed down, you could get through.”

  He looked at Rachel. “What do you think? Is she ready to listen?”

  “I doubt it.” Her smile was rueful. “She still seemed pretty angry to me. And she’s trying to deal with Lizzie and Becky, working out whether they hate her or not. Give her a while to ponder what happened on her own. Some independent reflection will be helpful for her.”

  “She’s the one who behaved badly,” Ford pointed out. “Not you. She owes you an apology.”

  “Do teenagers apologize?” Dylan shrugged a shoulder. “I haven’t witnessed much of that around here lately.”

  “There’s always a first time.” Caroline sighed. “But I know what you mean. They focus on their own reactions without considering the effect their behavior might have on someone else.”

  “So I shouldn’t hold my breath,” Garrett said. “I’ll try to talk to her tomorrow morning. Maybe we can come to an understanding after a night’s sleep.”

  “Meanwhile, I’ll go make sure the girls are getting along.” Caroline turned toward the cabin. “Thanks for coming, Rachel. See you tomorrow.”

  “I’ll check on the boys before I come in,” Ford said, going with her. Holding hands, they headed down the hill.

  “You could ask Lena if she did her injection,” Garrett called after them. “Just to be sure.”

  “So she can be mad at me, too?” she called. “Thanks.”

  Garrett met Rachel’s reproving gaze. “Don’t say it. I’m micromanaging again.”

  Dylan put a hand on his shoulder. “None of us would get along without your caretaking,” he said. “It’s who you are, and Lena will learn to appreciate that.” With the other hand, he smothered a yawn. “I’ve got some work to do before bed, so I’ll say good-night. Nice to have you here, Rachel. Come again.”

  “Thanks, I will.”

  They watched him disappear into the old barn he’d renovated as a studio and loft.

  “I’m glad to hear you’ll come back,” Garrett said as he and Rachel walked down the hill toward the house and her car. “This wasn’t exactly the fun-filled night I promised.”

  “I had fun. I loved the music.” She slanted him a smile. “I even enjoyed the trail mix.”

  “Me, too.” Her hand swung only inches from his, but he wouldn’t assume he had the right to take hold of it. “And I appreciated your story. Though I kept waiting for a knight in shining armor to show up. He never did.”

  “Melody solved her problems on her own. No knight necessary.”

  He winced. “Ouch. That puts me in my place.”

  They reached her SUV and Rachel put her hand on the door latch. “I have a question,” he said before she could open it.

  She looked at him sideways. “Uh-oh.”

  Pulling in a deep breath, Garrett took the leap he’d been considering all evening. “What did you mean when you said your mom believed in impossibilities?”

  *

  RACHEL ATTEMPTED TO divert the question. “I explained, didn’t I? Medical school scholarships, for one thing. Boyfriends who weren’t jerks. The latest fad diet that promised she could lose weight and never be hungry.”

  Garrett’s intense gaze never left her face. Without a word spoken, she realized he expected more. “But you want the whole truth, don’t you?”

  “If you’ll share.”

  Maybe it would help him grasp the issue between them. “As I finished medical school, my mother’s illness was getting worse. The doctors talked about dialysis, maybe even a kidney transplant. But then my mom discovered this ‘healer’—” she drew air quotes around the word “—who promised he could cure her. She wouldn’t require dialysis or a transplant, he said, if she put her faith—and her money—in him. Mom mortgaged her house and gave him as much cash as she could raise, believing she would be cured. I was a doctor at this point. I could have helped her. Instead, she died, still believing this man would make her well.”

  “That’s criminal.”

  “You’re right—and he’s in jail for fraud as we speak. But that didn’t save my mom.”

  Garrett’s hands closed around hers, his fingers warm against her icy ones. “Did you have family to help you deal with this?”

  “It was always just us.”

  “You’ve been through a terrible tragedy,” he said in a low voice. “I can imagine how that would affect your view of religion and those who have faith. Especially if you had to face that loss on your own.”

  “Then you see…” She let the words trail off.

  He tightened his grip on her hands. “What I see is that you’ve come to a place where there are people you can depend on. People to care about you and to care for you. God knows, I’m one of them. In the story you told Amber, Melody didn’t accomplish her quests on her own. With each trial, she had help—from the birds and the deer, from the river, from the ants. And now you have help. You don’t have to stand alone against the world anymore.”

  She blinked against sudden tears. “I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

  “Trust me. Not as a minister or a leader, but as a man. Could you do that?”

  Meeting his gaze, she read in his face a yearning she would never have expected, a longing that pierced her defenses. Her confession had created the opposite effect to what she intended.

  “I can try,” she whispered uncertainly. “I can try.”

  For a moment, she thought he would take her in his arms, seal their agreement with kisses. She hoped that he would.

  But h
e gave her only a wide smile. “That’s wonderful. Thanks.” Letting go of her hands, he opened her car door. “And now you’d better get home. Tomorrow is a workday.”

  Rachel took a deep breath, trying to regain her balance. “It is. And I have patients scheduled.” She pulled her keys out of her pocket and sat behind the wheel. “It was a lovely campfire.”

  Garrett nodded. “We’ll do it again. With a better ending.”

  “I like this ending,” she said and started the engine. He was still staring, jaw hanging loose, when she circled onto the driveway and drove off into the dark.

  *

  GARRETT CALLED A family meeting at seven on Tuesday morning, since they all happened to be in the kitchen drinking coffee anyway.

  “Thomas, Marcos and Lena are bored with the bucking barrel,” he announced. “They want to ride live animals.”

  “Of course they do,” Ford said. “That doesn’t mean it’s a good idea. I’m not sure our insurance will cover that liability.”

  Caroline sat on a stool at the counter. “Are they ready for live animals?”

  Dylan poured himself a second cup. “How do you know until they try?”

  “We’d need a chute and a gate,” she said. “And steers the right size. Where would we find them?”

  Wyatt leaned against the counter. “Dave Hicks on the Twin Oaks Ranch supplies livestock to some of the local shows. He’s got an arena set up, and he might have the animals. I can check with him.”

  “The safety issues worry me.” Caroline played with the handle of her mug. “Somebody could get hurt.”

  “We were planning to let them enter a rodeo at the end of the summer,” Garrett reminded her. “They ought to have experience with live animals before then. They’ll all be wearing helmets, mouth guards and safety vests. And they’ve fallen often enough.”

  “But they’ve never had to dodge flying hooves,” Ford pointed out. “It’s a different skill from just falling off the barrel.”

  “We all rode live animals as kids.” Dylan nodded at Garrett. “I don’t remember anything but bruises.”

  “There’s always a risk,” Ford said.

  “Maybe the doctor could come along as medical backup,” Wyatt suggested. “If something happens, she’d be right there to take care of it.”

  “That’s an excellent idea,” Garrett said. “If she has the time. Her practice is picking up.”

  Caroline held up her hand. “And what about the four kids who don’t want to ride? What would be fun for them to do?”

  “They get their own private rodeo,” Dylan said. “We could bring snacks, like having a concession stand.” Then he frowned. “But I guess food is now a problem, too.”

  “Dave has a stagecoach and a team of horses.” Wyatt went for a refill. “Maybe he could take them on a drive, show them a different part of the country.”

  “That sounds great.” Caroline smiled at him. “Something different for them to do with horses.”

  “Don’t commit to anything until I make sure we’re covered.” Ford put his mug in the dishwasher. “Right now, I’m going to wake up the boys.” He gave Caroline a one-armed hug on his way out the door.

  “Is this a go or not?” Garrett asked. “Assuming the insurance allows it.”

  “I say go.” Dylan made a thumbs-up sign. “It’ll be an adventure.”

  Wyatt nodded. “After a summer of barrel practice, I expect they can handle the steers. And the experience will be useful if they enter a rodeo later.”

  “I guess I’m on board,” Caroline said. “Especially if Rachel will come along. That would make me more comfortable.” She slipped from her stool and walked over to top up her coffee. “It’s time to get the girls up. Catch you all at breakfast.”

  As she left by the rear door, Dylan stretched his arms wide. “I’ve gotta wake up. I’m supposed to ride out with Grady at eight to clear that overgrown water ditch in the southeast field. A lovely morning of hacking and digging weeds lies ahead of me. What’s on your agenda, Garrett?”

  “I’m scheduled for office hours at the church this morning. After the scolding I got Sunday from Ms. Simpson about the time I’ve been spending with the kids, I figured I’d better show up, even if nobody comes by to check.”

  First, though, he wanted to talk to Lena. But her team was scheduled to cook breakfast, so he didn’t have an opportunity to catch her until after the meal.

  “How are you this morning?” he asked, as she brought her plate to the sink to be washed.

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I tested and did my injection.”

  He smiled at her. “That’s important. But not what I asked.”

  One thin shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I’m okay, I guess.”

  Holding open the door to the bunkhouse, Garrett motioned her outside. “You were pretty upset last night.”

  “Everybody loves s’mores. They were mad when we didn’t have them.”

  “Mad at you?” They started up the hill toward the barn.

  “That’s how it felt. And you didn’t trust me not to eat one. Like I’m stupid.”

  “But you had chips just the night before. How am I supposed to be sure you’ll make the best choice?”

  Another roll of the eyes. “I’m trying.”

  “Yes, you are. So am I. And I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of the other kids. I want to trust you, and I want you to be able to trust me.”

  At the door to the barn, Lena faced him. “Then you should clue me in on what you’re planning, so I can decide if I think it’s a good idea.” Her serious gaze met his. “It’s my life.”

  “Got it.” He offered a hand. “I’ll consult you before I make any radical decisions about you and food.”

  She shook with him. “And I’ll try not to yell at you in front of people.”

  That was probably as close as he’d get to an apology. “Deal.”

  Another parenting lesson. Garrett blew out a deep breath as he walked down the hill toward his truck. There ought to be a reference book to go by.

  Driving toward town, he realized that the same could be said of women. Especially Rachel Vale. She’d shocked him last night with a simple admission—she’d liked how their evening had ended. Meaning, he had to assume, she was glad she’d confided in him. And perhaps she was willing to build a relationship. He’d found it hard to fall asleep, imagining the possibilities now opening up between them.

  Of course, her objections to his calling still existed. He understood her reasons now but not how to overcome her resistance. Angry at the con man who had swindled—and effectively murdered—her mother in the guise of religion, Rachel had denied herself the comfort most people found in the community of a church. She was so determined not to be deceived or betrayed that she found it hard to trust anyone.

  But she’d said she would try. Garrett only hoped he could prove to her that she’d finally come to a safe place—in this town, with his family and friends, with the people she would come to know as her patients.

  And, as he found himself hoping more passionately every day, with him.

  Chapter Nine

  Tuesday’s first-aid session went pretty well, in Rachel’s opinion. She covered stings and bites, which gave the teenagers a chance to scare each other with descriptions of insects and snakes, as well as attacks from dogs and wildlife. They discussed the facts about rabies and other diseases carried by animals. To give them something active to do, she brought out various bandages and assigned each kid a different type of wound to be wrapped up. Caroline, Ford and Dylan joined in the laughter at their unskilled efforts.

  To her surprise, though, Garrett was nowhere to be seen. Or perhaps the surprise was not that he wasn’t there but that she missed him. She’d counted on his assistance with the bandaging project, remembering how his humorous approach always encouraged the kids to have fun. And yet he somehow managed to keep them in line, distracting Marcos from arguing with Thomas, and drawing Lena and Justino’s attention away from
each other. For her, the experience didn’t seem to be as enjoyable without him.

  The realization disturbed her as she drove back to the clinic. She had said she’d try to trust him, and she would. But had she already come to depend on him as part of her life here in Bisons Creek? Was he already more than just an acquaintance? More than a casual friend?

  Fortunately, her afternoon schedule contained enough appointments to keep her from ruminating about Garrett. A construction worker with a bad cut on his palm added excitement to the mix. She reached her last patient of the day about ten minutes behind schedule, and entered the exam room with an apology on her lips.

  “You’re late.” The older woman in the chair glared at her. “My appointment was at four thirty.” Tall and somewhat overweight, wearing an unfashionable dress and with her brown hair scraped into a bun, she reminded Rachel of a terrifying algebra teacher she’d had in high school. “I expect you to be prompt.” Her voice was low and hoarse.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Simpson. An emergency came in.” She held out a hand. “I’m Dr. Vale. How do you do?”

  The patient sniffed. “It’s Ms.” Her handshake lacked energy. “Ms. Dorothy Simpson.”

  “I’ll remember. What can I do for you today?”

  Ms. Simpson pursed her lips. “My hair is coming out. It’s there on my comb every day. And I can see how much thinner it is.”

  “Can you take your hair down, please?”

  Rachel examined Ms. Simpson’s head and noted that her long hair did seem sparse, though there was no way to determine how recent the condition might be.

  “How are you feeling otherwise?” she asked, unfolding her blood pressure cuff. “Let me put this around your upper arm. Just there.” She squeezed the bulb. “How is your appetite?”

  “I put on a few pounds, so I’ve been watching what I eat. But the scale keeps going up. It’s very frustrating.”

  By the end of her exam, Rachel had learned even more about Ms. Simpson’s current condition—how she was tired, even after a night’s sleep, and how her knees and her shoulders ached so much some days she could hardly go to work.

  “I teach science at the junior high school,” she said. “I have to be able to stand during classes. This spring, I seemed to be sitting at my desk most of the day.” Her mood had been off, as well. “I don’t enjoy life as much as I used to. It’s hard to get up in the morning.”