by Lori Wick
“Brad, are you hearing a thing I’m saying?” Jeanette asked, trying to figure out what Brad was looking at over her shoulder.
“Who is that?” Brad finally asked, his eyes on the dark-haired young woman who’d come into the church building with Jeb Dorn.
“That’s Meg,” Jeanette said simply. “She’s making her summer visit.”
Jeanette would have gone right back to talking, but she could see she’d lost her nephew. He watched the kind way Meg Dorn smiled and talked to a child who came up to her, and then when Jeb had found a pew, that young lady sat with him, opened her Bible, and read.
And that had been the beginning for Brad. He didn’t let his heart rush, but he became aware for the first time. Even Trace noticed his interest.
“So are you going to go see her?”
“Who?”
“Meg Dorn.”
“No, why?”
“Why?” Trace asked with an exasperated roll of his eyes. “Because you’re interested. Don’t tell me you’re not.”
Brad didn’t reply, but then Trace didn’t need an answer. He noticed that the next Sunday Brad took a little extra time shaving, and the shirt he picked out was one of his nicest ones. And Brad caught Trace’s eyes on him but didn’t comment.
Trace wasn’t the only one to notice. Patience Dorn had seen Brad looking Meg’s way and did nothing to stop her heart from planning. She thought that either of the Holden men would be perfect for Meg and said as much to Jeb.
“Ask them to dinner,” Jeb, a romantic in his own right, said, not minding his wife’s thought at all. The Holden brothers were fine, believing men, and that would mean that their little Meg would be in Token Creek year ‘round.
Patience was not going to waste any time. What she hadn’t counted on was Meg’s reaction.
“You can’t do that,” she told her aunt, her face showing her horror.
“Why not?” Patience asked in surprise, knowing that Meg had done some looking of her own.
“He hasn’t given me any reason to think he’s interested, Aunt Patience. I might have to spend the rest of the summer wishing the floor would swallow me.”
“But he watches you,” Patience argued.
“Be that as it may,” Meg agreed, “he’ll just have to find the courage to do more than that.”
Brave words at the time. Before June ended Meg knew moments of despair. Brad was not a fast mover. It was clear to most folks that he had his eye on Meg, but he wasn’t doing anything about it. She’d come in May, and it was the Fourth of July picnic before he found the courage to approach.
“How are you?” Brad had come near the Dorn table and was speaking to Jeb, his gaze managing to encompass them all.
“Doing well, Brad. How about yourself?”
“Fine, thank you.”
“How’s the ranch?”
“The spring was good. The herd is growing fast.”
“So you’ll head to market in the fall?”
“That’s the plan.”
Jeb didn’t continue to question the younger man but gave him a moment to choose the next topic of conversation. Jeb was beginning to doubt if he could do it, but Brad surprised him.
“I was wondering if Meg might want to take a walk along the creek.”
Jeb turned to his niece.
“I’d like that,” she said quietly, and went with Brad when he turned away from the group and began a slow walk.
“Are you enjoying your summer?” Brad asked the first thing that came to mind.
“Yes. It’s always great fun.”
“A little hot at times?”
“At times, but I don’t mind.”
Brad glanced at her, wishing he could just go on staring. Her skin reminded him of fresh cream, and her eyes were a deep blue, almost turquoise. She wasn’t smiling right now, but he knew her smile was one of the prettiest things he’d ever seen.
“I don’t remember if I saw you last year,” Brad said. “Did you visit?”
“All summer.”
Brad stopped then and looked at her. Meg stopped with him. They were along the bank of Token Creek, the town picnic a little ways behind them.
“Did you change?” Brad asked, trying to place her in his mind.
“I don’t know.” Meg just held her smile. “Did you?”
Brad saw the amusement in her eyes and laughed. Meg couldn’t believe how much she liked the sound, and she laughed with him.
It got easier after that. Brad headed into town at least three times a week and sat in the Dorns’ parlor. He and Meg talked about everything under the sun, and if Jeb and Patience had been harboring any doubts, they soon disappeared as they got to know this young rancher with his subtle sense of humor, high values, and genuine faith.
As for Brad, he’d never been happier. Meg was his girl, and he knew they would have a future together. She was the one God had for him. He was sure of it. What he wasn’t sure about was the timing, and that almost got him into trouble.
“Are you busy next Friday night?” Meg asked as August rushed away.
“No, what’s up?”
“A party Jeb and Patience are giving me. Can you come?”
“Certainly, but didn’t you tell me your birthday was in June?”
“It is,” Meg said quietly, her eyes watchful. “It’s a going-away party.”
Brad felt as if the wind had been knocked from him. He’d managed to forget that Token Creek was not her home.
“Why are you leaving?” he asked, just managing to stay calm.
“My visit is over. My parents expect me home.”
“New York is a long way away from Montana Territory.”
“Yes, it is,” Meg said, even as her heart begged Brad to say the words she longed to hear. She knew he loved her—he’d said it many times—but he’d never popped the question.
Brad was in shock. He had no idea how the days had moved so fast or how he could forget such a key ingredient to their relationship. He didn’t say much of anything, however, and when Patience came looking for Meg, Brad excused himself and went home.
“So you’re not sure about Meg?” Trace pressed his brother when Brad told him about the conversation. They were in the living room at the ranch.
“I’m very sure.”
“Then why are you hesitating?”
“We don’t have much extra right now, Trace. You know that. I wanted to offer Meg more.”
“Brad,” Trace responded in kindness and patience, “we never go hungry, and we both have plenty to wear.” Trace’s head went back so he could glance around the room. “This is a fine home. Meg won’t find anything lacking.”
Brad still looked doubtful and Trace, not even realizing it, delivered the final punch.
“What did Meg say when you explained why you wanted to wait?”
“I didn’t tell her.”
Trace had to laugh. “Well, prepare yourself, big brother, because she’s either going to laugh at the absurdity of it all or be completely insulted.”
“Why would she be insulted?”
“Meg isn’t some spoiled little girl who would look at you and this home and ask for more. But that’s what you’re saying.”
Brad thanked his brother, emotion making it almost impossible. He left for town just minutes later and asked Meg Dorn to marry him as soon as it could be arranged. Meg accepted in a heartbeat, and they were married that fall.
“Well, I for one am glad to see you on the sofa together,” Jeb finally said, breaking into everyone’s thoughts. “This courtship business takes it out of a man.”
Both Meg and Patience laughed at him, but Brad had to agree—right up to the moment Jeb contradicted his own words. “So tell me, Trace, who have you got your eye on?”
Trace laughed but was saved from answering when Patience offered coffee. Everyone was too warm for that, but no one turned down the cake she offered as well.
The Holdens stayed for most of the afternoon, dozing and visiting the hours a
way, something they all needed. When it was time to go, both Dorns saw them off, Patience just remembering to mention the upcoming party.
“We’ll see you Friday night at Jeanette’s. I have your birthday present wrapped and ready.”
“I can hardly wait,” Meg said, hugging her aunt again.
The three left for home with the sun still high. It would be a warm ride, the memories of the afternoon even warmer.
“Hey, Jessie,” Trace greeted the owner of Wheeler’s Mercantile when he came into town on Tuesday.
“Hi, Trace. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve got a list here,” Trace said, leaning against the counter and turning it so Jessie could read with him.
Jessie had almost all the supplies on hand but had to order the piece that Trace needed for the wagon. Trace thought his temporary fix would hold till it arrived. He knew Rylan or Pete Stillwell could make it for him at the livery, but he had remembered an item Jessie had showed him in the catalog and thought it might be better priced.
Thirty minutes later, Trace went down the street, the little blue dress shop on his mind. The last time he’d been in town, he’d not stopped to see Cassidy and regretted it. Between the mercantile and Cassidy’s, however, was the bank. Trace decided to stop in and say hello to Chandler.
“Well, cowboy,” Chandler greeted when he spotted Trace coming through the door.
“Hey, Chandler,” Trace replied, the men shaking hands before Trace sat in the chair in front of the manager’s desk, rocking back to get comfortable, hat going to his knee.
“What brings you to town?” Chandler asked.
“Supplies mostly. I’ll throw in a visit to Cass and my mother as well.”
“How is your mother?” Chandler asked, realizing he’d not inquired in a long time.
“The same. How is yours?”
“Doing all right. Taking things a little slower, but her letters are as sanguine as ever.”
Trace had to smile.
“What?” Chandler had caught the look.
“Sanguine. That’s an eastern-boy word if I’ve ever heard one.”
Chandler had to laugh. It was true. No one in Token Creek talked the way he did, but that made him unique, and if someone had pressed him, he would have admitted to enjoying that.
“Oh, no,” Chandler spoke under his breath, and Trace followed his gaze.
Abi Pfister had stepped inside the door. Chandler watched her, thinking she was back for another interview with him, but her eyes were on the tellers' windows and Mr. Falcone. When she saw that he was busy, she moved on her way.
“What’s up with that?” Trace asked.
“She’s writing a book on Token Creek and keeps trying to interview Mr. Falcone. She talked to me already, and I didn’t appreciate some of the things she said.”
“About the bank?”
“No, about Cassie and me.”
Trace’s brows rose. He knew Chandler could handle himself, but he was a little bit protective of Cassidy.
“Did Cassidy hear?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t want to ask her.”
“Why was that?”
Chandler hesitated but then admitted, “Abi had heard that Cassidy and I were engaged.”
Trace’s frown was real when Chandler explained the whole story and realized Abi was just repeating what she’d heard. Cassidy’s being engaged to Chandler, or even rumor of it, would not harm either of their reputations, but since it wasn’t true, it would only cause awkwardness and possibly hard feelings.
“I’ll be headed there.” Trace was not one to beat about the bush. “I might ask her if Abi Pfister has been a problem, and I’ll probably just tell her what you said.”
Chandler nodded. He didn’t know why he was willing to let Trace handle this but somehow thought it would be best.
“Well, I’d better keep moving.”
“All right. I think we’re on for Saturday night this time, aren’t we?” Chandler asked, referring to the study with Rylan.
“Yes. I’ll see you then, Chandler.”
“All right, Trace. Thanks for stopping.”
Trace didn’t waste time but beat a path to Cassidy’s. That lady was alone, bent over the sewing machine, and didn’t hear him come in. He stood for moment watching her work and then threw his hat on the chair beside her. She didn’t start like he thought she would but smiled and spoke without turning from her machine.
“Hello, Trace.”
“How did you know that was my hat?” he asked, having been foiled in his joke.
“I’m an observant woman.” Cassidy turned with a smile, inviting him to take a seat by moving his hat. “What are you doing in town?”
“Just errands and visiting,” Trace said when he was comfortable.
“You sound like a man of leisure.”
“I am when I can be,” he said, and Cassidy knew he spoke the truth. During branding and cattle driving, all he did was work. “What are you working on?”
“A shirt for Merle North. It’s a nice fabric, isn’t it?”
“Very nice.” Trace admired it but didn’t let his mind lose track of his visit to the bank. “I need to ask you something.”
“All right.”
“Has Abi Pfister been in?”
“Last week. She was upset when I didn’t have time for an interview.”
Trace nodded, and Cassidy knew there was more.
“What’s wrong?”
“She was spreading rumors she’d heard about you and Chandler. He set her straight, but when he told me, I wanted you to know.”
“Why didn’t Chandler tell me?”
“I think he was afraid of hurting you somehow.”
Cassidy looked thoughtful, and Trace watched her.
“What bothers you more,” he finally asked, “the rumor or that Chandler didn’t tell you?”
“Both. I can understand Chandler was driven by compassion. I don’t know what drives Abi Pfister. She’s relentless with this book idea of hers. And just exactly what was said?”
“That you and Chandler are engaged.”
Cassidy didn’t know why the words pained her, but they did. She was glad Trace told her, but it wasn’t easy to hear.
“Are you all right?”
Cassidy nodded. “Thanks for telling me.”
“You’re welcome. You’ll be out at the house tomorrow?”
“That’s the plan.”
“All right. I’m headed to see my mother and then home.”
“Thanks for stopping, Trace.”
“Until tomorrow, Miss Norton,” Trace said, tipping his hat and taking his leave, unaware of the way Cassidy sat thinking until a noise in the street interrupted her.
“I had a scare last week,” Meg admitted to Cassidy the following afternoon.
“What happened?”
“Pain. It’s not happened since, but for a moment I thought the baby was coming.”
“How early would that be?”
“Right now, about six weeks.”
“Are you taking things more slowly?”
“A little, but I feel good now and sometimes I forget.”
“Well, I’ll make dinner tonight, and you can just sit and talk to me.”
“I don’t think you need to do that,” Meg began to argue, but Cassidy frowned at her and she stopped.
“You’ve got to take gifts when they’re given to you, Meg,” Cassidy said in quiet rebuke. “It might be your baby’s life we’re talking about here.”
“You’re right, Cass. I’m sorry.”
“What are we having?” Cassidy asked, swift to put the incident behind.
“Steaks. The potatoes have to go in pretty soon, and then there’s corn to boil.”
“I think I can handle that.”
“What can’t you handle?” Meg teased.
“Abi Pfister,” Cassidy surprised Meg by saying.
Meg pulled a face. “Has she been spreading rumors again?”
“
How did you know?”
“Because that’s her way. Did she say something about you?”
Cassidy told her the story, but Meg’s reaction was much calmer. “You’re right. Chandler should have come to you, but as far as Abi is concerned, consider the source, Cass. Everyone knows she’s a lot of talk.”
“Yes, but evidently she heard it from someone else.”
“Then Abi’s passing it along is just what you need. No one takes her seriously, and the news will die all the faster.”
Cassidy felt herself relax. Thinking about it again had been unsettling. She had wrestled with the gossip long after Trace had left. It had been almost bedtime before she remembered that she was not in control and that God had a handle on things.
“Were you serious about dinner?” Meg asked just then.
“Very.”
“All right. Let’s head out. You’ve got potatoes to wash.”
Cassidy followed her pregnant hostess, thinking that cooking in the spacious ranch kitchen was going to be fun.
“Tell me something,” Cassidy said to Trace on the ride home.
“What?”
“Why do you take me back to town when the days are long right now?”
“Because the male inhabitants of Token Creek just can’t be trusted. It’s pretty quiet on Wednesday night, and you’re right, it’s light at this time of the year, but if something were to go wrong with the wagon or the horse and it got dark out, you’d be in a pretty vulnerable spot.”
“And all this time I thought it was my charming company,” Cassidy teased him.
“Well, that too,” Trace teased right back.
“Oh!” Cassidy remembered. “Don’t let me forget to run up and get the fabric I forgot to take earlier. I told Meg I would send it with you.”
“All right. What is Meg making now?”
“This is for a shirt for Brad. I cut a bit of that bolt I used on Merle North’s shirt. I’m pretty sure she’ll like it.”
“But will Brad?” Trace asked.
“You tell me, since you’re two of a kind.”
“Brad and I? We’re nothing alike.”
Cassidy had a good laugh over this, but Trace wasn’t done. “Actually we’re less alike than you think.”
