Love Inspired Historical February 2016 Box Set

by Karen Kirst

  The thought brought a ripple of surprise running through him. Did he really want to meet and court another woman after experiencing Cynthia’s treachery? Of its own volition, his mind filled with the memories of the last time he’d seen her.

  *

  Myles waited in the moonlight by the gardenia bush. The heady scent of the flowers always reminded him of Cynthia’s perfume. Music and laughter floated on the warm evening air from the nearby three-story house. The Grovers’ party was in full swing. Would Cynthia be able to sneak away as her note had promised?

  The swish of full skirts preceded her. Myles smiled and stepped forward. He’d always thought Cynthia looked like a porcelain doll with her white face, red lips and blond hair.

  “Myles,” she said, her voice breathless as if she’d raced across the lawn. As eager to see him as he was to see her, he hoped.

  He took both her gloved hands in his. “Hello, darling.”

  She turned her cheek to allow him to press a quick kiss to her smooth skin. “I couldn’t get away from the captain a moment sooner. Have you been waiting long?”

  “Not long.” The thought of that army gentleman dancing with Cynthia made Myles frown. It should be him whirling her around the Grovers’ fancy parlor. But try as he might he couldn’t quite picture himself there—dressed in something nicer than his church clothes, talking with Cynthia’s father about politics and the state of the world.

  “I only have a few minutes.” She heaved a sigh, then brightened just as rapidly. “Do you like my new ball gown?”

  He twirled her around. “You look as pretty as ever. Did you speak with your mother and father?”

  Cynthia shifted her weight, throwing a glance at the house behind them. “I did.”

  “And?” Some of his impatience leaked into his tone, making it sharper than Myles had intended. But he’d waited six long years for this day—the day Cynthia would finally be twenty-one. Old enough to decide for herself whom she wanted to marry.

  “Myles, I love you. You know that.”

  Why did the words set off a loud clang of warning inside his head? He gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “I love you, too, Cindy, and that’s why I want to marry you.”

  “I—I know. It’s just… Mother and Father…”

  Myles ground his teeth as irritation washed over him. “They still don’t approve of me, do they?”

  Cynthia dipped her head in a nod, sending her blond curls bobbing. “I don’t think they’ve forgiven you for turning down the position of livery stable overseer this winter. I told them that your job with the Pony Express is a good one, but my father said the venture’s too new to know for certain. He says you can’t provide for me.”

  “I can—I will.” Myles rubbed his thumb over the fine fabric of her gloves. “I can make good money as an Express rider, but I don’t plan on doing that forever. You know I want to have a horse ranch someday.”

  “I told my parents as much.”

  Myles pushed out his breath. “You’re old enough to decide for yourself, Cynthia.” He tugged her closer. “I may not be able to give you ball gowns or servants, but I promise to be a loving and honorable husband.”

  She broke free from his hold to cover her face with her hands. A quiet sob escaped her fingers. “Oh, Myles.” He drew her head to his shoulder. “I don’t want this to end… I don’t want to say goodbye.”

  Goodbye? He released her, his gut twisting into a knot. “What are you saying?”

  “I can’t marry you. Father forbade it.”

  “But…but we love each other. We could go right now and wake the pastor. Start our life together like we’ve always wanted. Even without your parents’ permission.”

  Cynthia brushed at her cheeks. “I want to, I do. But I can’t defy my mother and father. I’m the only child they have and they want me to marry well.”

  “To someone like the captain?” Myles didn’t bother to hide his bitterness.

  “Oh, see. You do understand. I knew you would.”

  His jaw went slack. Did Cynthia care for him at all? Had their courtship only been a way for her to rebel against her parents’ demands? He’d waited all this time for her to choose and now she had, but it wasn’t him she’d chosen.

  As he stared into her half-smiling face, something hardened inside Myles. She was like every other debutante he’d seen come into the livery stable—spoiled, frightened of poverty and in love with wealth. At least he’d discovered the truth now, rather than several years into their marriage.

  “Goodbye, Cynthia.” The words tasted ripe with rejection.

  “Will I see you again?” All traces of her earlier distress had disappeared.

  Myles shook his head. “Give your mother and father my best.”

  “Myles, are you angry?”

  He didn’t respond. Instead he spun around and marched down the street, toward the river. He’d been a fool, thinking he—an orphan and Express rider—could woo and marry one of the town’s most eligible young ladies.

  *

  Moses suddenly danced to the side and halted, jerking Myles from his thoughts. He looked up to see he’d nearly plowed them into Amos’s horse. “Sorry,” he grumbled as he and the older man dismounted. They’d reached Chimney Rock and the spring while Myles had been lost in his memories.

  Amos shot him an amused look but kept blessedly silent.

  “Want to explore the rock?” Delsie asked, her face etched with wonder.

  Myles glanced at Amos, but the man was already leading the horses toward the water. “You two go on. I’ll see to the animals.”

  Delsie led out, holding her skirt in one hand as she picked her way across the grass. The pant legs of her trousers showed beneath her hem, calling to mind Myles’s brief glimpse at her shapely calf that first day. A smile worked his mouth at the memory of how proper she’d tried to be, even without a sidesaddle.

  Now look at her, he thought with a wry shake of his head, traipsing through the brush without a care for her dress and wearing that hat like a real rider. He could hardly believe they’d only met less than a week ago. It seemed more like a month after all they’d been through.

  At the base of the rock spire, Delsie stopped. Myles came up beside her. Instead of the lofty height of the formation, her attention seemed riveted on the names and initials carved into the soft rock. There were dozens and dozens of them, some fresh, others growing faint from the effects of the sun, rain and wind.

  “Just think how many people have passed by this very spot.” She reached out and traced a name with her finger. “All looking for a new life out West.” Her voice held the same wistfulness it did whenever she spoke of her sister. Did Delsie hold out hope of possibly carving a new life out here, too?

  Myles reached into his boot and withdrew his knife. “I say we add our names to theirs.”

  She looked from the knife to him, then smiled fully. “All right.” She accepted the blade then began chiseling her name into the stone. He let his gaze wander up the towering rock. Had God made it this way? As a beacon for those coming West?

  “There.” Delsie brushed dust from the letters with her hand and passed him the knife. She’d carved only her first name.

  Myles went to work, scoring his full name—Myles Brown Patton—into the rock. When he’d finished, he stepped back in satisfaction. Let all the world know he’d come this way, and the next time he passed by this rock, he’d see how well his name had weathered the elements.

  Delsie had walked a short distance away as he’d been carving. He found her staring east, her arms clasped tight, her expression pensive. The reason she hadn’t chiseled her full name into the rock suddenly hit him.

  “Your father doesn’t know you’re doing this, does he?”

  Pressing her lips together, she shook her head.

  “Don’t you think he’s sick with worry?” He might not be a parent himself, but he couldn’t imagine a father being anything less than panicked over the disappearance of his daughter.
>
  Delsie kicked at a clump of grass. “No…he thinks I’m still at my aunt Cissy’s in Saint Louis. At least for another few weeks.”

  “Where does your aunt think you are?”

  A half-rueful smile appeared on her lips. “Heading back home, by way of a friend’s.”

  Myles followed her gaze across the prairie to the eastern horizon. What would Mr. Radford do if he found out his daughter was not in Missouri as he’d supposed but halfway across the country? “Why not just tell him what you were doing?”

  “He would have refused to let me come.” Her voice held such melancholy that it twisted Myles’s heart. “Papa told Lillie if she went after Clay that he would never contact her again. It would be as if she no longer existed.” She blew out a breath as if repeating the words caused her fresh pain. “He wasn’t trying to be cruel—he may be stern and rigid sometimes but never cruel. I think he honestly thought such an ultimatum would make Lillie change her mind. But she’s as stubborn as him.” An embittered laugh escaped her mouth.

  “Then why risk his anger yourself?”

  Delsie turned to look at him, her gaze full of the same raw resolution he’d seen time and again these past six days. “Because I made a promise to my mother, when she was dying. She pleaded with me to keep my family together. When Lillie left, I thought I’d failed.”

  She removed her hat and brushed a lock of dark hair from her forehead. “Then I found the letters she’d written me—letters Papa had hidden. In her last one Lillie told me if she didn’t hear from me by the time she married, she would not attempt to contact me again. Our family…” Delsie visibly swallowed as if gathering courage to finish. “Our family would be dead to her, as she’d been to our father this last year.”

  Admiration burned warm inside Myles. For the first time since agreeing to come along, he could see what this journey could cost Delsie, especially if she didn’t make it to her sister in time. She was willing to sacrifice physical discomfort, her father’s potential wrath and possibly her own life in an effort to hold her small family together. That was something Charles had understood and lived, up until the day he’d died.

  A sudden longing for a noble cause, for a family of his own, filled Myles to distraction. He’d told himself he was content living alone with only Elijah for company and visiting with Amos during his Express runs. But maybe it wasn’t enough.

  He reached out his hand, motioning her toward him. She hesitated only a moment before she moved into his arms. “We’ll get you there, Delsie,” he murmured. “Don’t you worry. We’ll help you keep your promise.”

  She nodded against his shoulder, while he stroked her hair as if she were a frightened child or the sister he’d never had. Nothing could be further from the truth, though. The same perfection he’d felt riding with her on Moses and carrying her into the dugout yesterday rose up within him as he held her.

  Too bad the one girl he could easily picture being at his side forever would never be free to choose him. She’d witnessed the pain her sister’s choice in beaus had inflicted on their father—and Myles knew as sure as she was standing here that Delsie would never do the same.

  *

  The beginning notes of a fiddle drew Delsie from the station porch where she’d been sitting with Amos and Myles. They’d left Chimney Rock behind hours ago.

  “Do you hear that?” she asked, her toe tapping beneath her skirt.

  A short distance to the west a large wagon train had encamped for the night. It was the first wagon company Delsie had seen. She’d wanted to wander over and talk to the emigrants, but her dusty, dirt-covered traveling dress made her hesitate. Not that the wagon occupants would be faring significantly better. Now the lure of the music called at her to abandon her embarrassment.

  While she appreciated Amos’s occasional harmonica concert, Delsie still missed the music she’d experienced nearly every day back at home. Playing music on the piano, listening to it at the opera and especially, dancing to it.

  “Do you think they’re going to have a dance?”

  Myles shrugged at her question, even as the song changed from a lively ditty to a polka.

  Delsie returned to the porch and motioned for the two men to stand. “Come on, gentlemen. I need a partner.”

  Amos laughed but shook his head. “Don’t know if these old bones can handle dancing after another hard day’s ride.” Delsie couldn’t help thinking his words contradicted his usual agility, which sometimes seemed to rival even hers and Myles’s. The older man cut a glance at Myles—one that looked rather calculated to Delsie. “Why don’t you go on, Myles?”

  “Me?” Myles removed his hat and wiped at his brow with his sleeve. “You know I’m not much of a dancer, Amos.”

  “I’ll teach you,” Deslie volunteered. Even if Amos was scheming to give her and Myles more time to themselves, she didn’t care. Right now she only wanted to dance and forget for a few blissful moments the hard task ahead of her and her father’s irate response when he eventually found out about it. “Please, Myles.”

  He eyed her sternly, but she gave him a sweet smile in return. Finally he pushed out a sigh and climbed to his feet. “Fine.”

  “Thank you.” She resisted the urge to kiss his bearded cheek in gratitude. Instead she clasped her hands together and fell into step beside him as they headed toward the wagon train. The music grew louder the closer they came. Delsie did a little skip at the thought of dancing.

  Myles’s low rumble of a laugh sounded beside her. “I don’t think I’ve seen you this excited since I told you I’d take you on my run that first day.”

  Her cheeks warmed with a blush, but she ignored it. “I love dancing nearly as much as I do my sister.” He rewarded her joke with a full smile, making her heart skip right along with her feet.

  At the edge of the circled wagons, he stopped her. “Why don’t you teach me here?”

  Between two of the wagons, she could see a group, young and old, dancing to the fiddle’s lively music. Their energy begged her to come closer, but she feared she’d lose her partner if she insisted. At least they were close enough to easily follow along to the tune.

  “All right.” She turned to face Myles and lifted her right hand in the air. “You’ll hold this hand here and your other will go on my waist.”

  He complied, taking her hand in his. He placed his right hand on her waist as she rested her left one on his shoulder. Flurries erupted in Delsie’s middle at his touch and the way he gazed intently at her. Being in his arms, in this way, felt different than when he’d comforted her earlier that afternoon.

  “You…uh…might want to take off your hat,” she said, the words sticking in her dry throat.

  Without breaking eye contact, Myles pulled off his hat and tossed it onto the grass nearby. Delsie couldn’t help chuckling.

  “You’re going to do fine. Just follow my lead.”

  “Sounds like business as usual.” His lips worked up into a teasing smile, drawing her attention to them. What would it be like to kiss those masculine lips? Flynn had given her several chaste pecks on the cheek, though he hadn’t attempted to kiss her mouth yet. She’d harbored a slight disappointment over that fact, but now she felt secretly glad. Perhaps Flynn wasn’t the man she wanted to share her first real kiss with after all. “So what do we do?”

  Myles’s inquiry broke through her thoughts, eliciting another blush. She’d be mortified if he could guess at what she’d been thinking.

  Lifting her chin, she did her best to school her chaotic feelings. “The polka is quite simple. It’s basically a skip step and a turn.” She demonstrated with her feet, tugging Myles with her. “One and two, one and two.”

  After a few steps, he caught the gist. They whirled around across the ground, in time with the music.

  “You’re doing good,” Delsie declared with a smile. “Now that you have those steps, we can try to add something fancier—”

  Myles interrupted her by spinning her out and back to him, all the
while keeping time with the polka beat.

  Delsie stared at him in astonishment. “I thought you said you didn’t dance.”

  “No. I said I wasn’t much of a dancer.” He spun her out again as he added, “Charles taught me more than how to work with horses. It’s just been a few years since I made use of his lessons.”

  “Did you never dance with your girl back in Missouri?”

  It was the wrong thing to say. Myles slowed to a stop, his expression one of hardened pain. “Not in her fancy parlor. I was never invited to those parties.”

  Delsie sensed he didn’t want her pity, so she kept silent. But that didn’t stop memories marching through her mind of parties at home in Pennsylvania, parties Lillie’s beau had never been invited to. “Well, I think that’s a real shame.” She tipped her head up to look him in the eye. “Because you’re quite adept on your feet.”

  The guarded quality faded from his dark eyes, replaced by an appreciative gleam. “I’ve had two good teachers.”

  She laughed as he led her through another of the fiddler’s polka numbers. They moved in perfect time with each other, his hand holding her waist with gentle pressure. The longer they danced the more his normal gruff exterior dropped away. Without his hat, she was able to peruse his face unencumbered. She could easily imagine him turning many female heads back at home with his bristled jaw, strong shoulders and unfathomable dark eyes.

  Those eyes studied her with equal abandon, setting Delsie’s pulse galloping along with their feet and renewing the flurry of sensations in her stomach. Wasn’t this how Lillie had described her feelings for Clay when Delsie asked if her sister loved the poor farmer?

  I love him very much, Lillie had answered.

  But how do you know it’s love? she’d countered.

  Lillie had smiled. You know it in the way your heart pounds every time you see him. Or how butterflies alight in your stomach when he touches your hand. She had drawn her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. But most of all, you know it when he fills your thoughts. When your heart wells up with peace and joy at the idea of being with him forever.