The reverend’s mouth fell open and shut, his eyes wide.
Amanda lifted Samuel into the cart and then, grabbing the bench firmly, pulled herself up.
Then, with a fire in her belly, she jerked the reins and prodded the horse forward.
****
Brandon perused the aisles of the General Store. He already had his purchases in hand, but there was no rush to return to the ranch. More questions, more doubts from his ranch hands awaited him.
Why couldn’t they just trust him? Why couldn’t he find the right answers? Just today, he’d had a run in with Mr. George C. Perkins. The banker was as slimy as they came. But Brandon needed to remain in his good graces.
His ranch would be forfeit if he didn’t find some way to infuse it with added income. But where would such a salvation come from?
He moved closer to the front of the store. The clerk and the customer at the counter were talking. Perhaps he should wait before approaching with his wares. Still, he could not help but overhear…
“…I just can’t imagine what the poor thing is going to do,” the customer feigned Christianly consideration after someone.
Brandon suspected her real concern was a piece of gossip. But whom did they speak of? Had someone in the community fallen ill?
“Doesn’t she have kin back east?” The clerk had stopped working altogether.
“Yes. But her parents are poor. Not much help there. Why, she’d have to find a way to make money. That little woman would end up supporting that son of hers and her parents, too,” the woman prattled on.
Supporting? Now he was curious. Brandon wasn’t one to listen to idle gossip, but he found himself intrigued. He picked a can up off the shelf and pretended to read the label.
“It’s a shame. That ole’ husband of hers wasn’t the best, but at least he did give her something.” Brandon wasn’t looking, but the higher pitch of the customer’s voice gave her away.
Ah. They must be talking about Amanda Haynes. He had heard Jed had passed away. Sick with tuberculosis these last couple months. Terrible shame.
“A name and a home.” It was the lower tone of the clerk.
“And food on the table.”
“She worked near as hard as he on that ranch. I bet she’s the only reason it kept running.”
That’s right. Jed had a ranch. Not a large one, budding really. But it had cattle. And that was just what Brandon needed. Some cattle.
“Well, one thing’s for sure, she can’t run it by herself.” That higher pitch was starting to unnerve him.
“Who knows what’ll happen to her?”
“She’ll have to take the first offer that comes along. She is mighty pretty.”
“That is the truth.”
Offer? Offer for what? Marriage? They were talking about a proposal. Well now, that would be one way to secure that cattle. Then they could both get what they want: he would offer security for her and her son, and he would get the cattle he needed for his ranch. Was it too perfect?
“Mr. Miller?”
Brandon jerked his head toward the sound. Had he spoken out loud?
The clerk and the customer, a tall woman with dark hair, were both staring at him.
“Yes?” He straightened.
“Can I help you with anything?”
“No, thank you.” He held up the can. “I’m just looking at this…” Glancing at the label, he noted that it was infant food. Brandon quickly put it behind his back. “I’m checking out what you have over here. Can’t say I’ve noticed this shelf before.” His face warmed.
The clerk quirked a brow. “All right. If you need anything, let me know.” She turned back to the customer, but continued to give him sideways glances.
Brandon put the infant food back on the shelf and rubbed his palms, now sweating, on his trouser legs. Then he took several deep breaths. Was this plan sane? Or was he crazy?
Glancing at the clerk, he noticed her looking in his direction, but her voice was lowered to the point he could no longer hear her conversation.
He needed to get out of there. Then he would be able to think.
Taking his wares to the counter, he paid, mumbling simple pleasantries along the way. Relief washed over him when he stepped into the sunlight. He had to make a plan. And soon.
****
Amanda heaved a sigh as she picked up the bucket of water. Why did she have to fill it so full? Because she loathed making multiple trips. So, she walked back toward the house, leaning to one side, her shoulder nearly pulling out of its socket as she carried her load.
She climbed the porch steps with much effort and breathed in relief when she reached the door. Pressing on it with her body, she was startled when it didn’t give way under her weight. Water sloshed onto her dress hem and shoes.
After releasing one hand’s hold on the bucket, she worked the latch.
Nothing.
What?
Samuel.
Had he locked the door? Again?
Slamming her palm against the rough wood, she called out. “Samuel, let Mama in.”
A giggle sounded from the other side.
She groaned. “Samuel, this is not a time to play games. Mama needs to get in the house.”
More laughing.
The water’s weight became more than her arm could bear, forcing her to set it down.
“Mama wants you to open the door right now, young man.” Amanda tried not to let her anger into her voice, but it came through in her raised volume.
Banging both of her flat hands on the door, and then shaking on the latch, she began to lose her tightly held control. “Samuel Isaac Haynes, do you hear me?”
“Is there a problem, ma’am?” a voice behind her spoke.
She spun toward the sound. A dark-haired man sat on a caramel colored horse. Had she see him before? He had a dark, scruffy beard that had probably only been growing for a couple days. His equally dark eyes seemed to look through her. Ah, yes, he was another rancher. What was his name? Something Miller…
“Ma’am?”
She realized she had failed to answer him.
Taking a step away from the door, she squared her shoulders. “I am perfectly well. I seem to be…temporarily locked out of my home. But it’s nothing to concern yourself with, Mr. Miller.”
His eyebrows raised for just a moment. Surprise? At her comment? Or surprise that she knew his name? It didn’t matter. “What can I help you with, sir?”
He remained silent for a moment, and then looked down at his hands on the pommel of his saddle. “I was…ah…hoping I could speak with you.”
Her eyes held his. She crossed her arms in front of herself. “As you are.”
His face colored, and he nodded. “Yes, that I am.” He licked his lips and looked from side to side. “Perhaps this is not the best time.” Dark eyes shot to the locked door.
Amanda’s temper flared. “I can assure you, Mr. Miller, I am quite well. And whatever your business is, I am certain now is as good a time as any.”
Mr. Miller’s face became slack, and his eyes widened. It was several seconds before he seemed to gather his wits. Then he spoke. “The thing is that I have a, um, proposal…that is, a proposition for you.”
Amanda’s brows furrowed. “Proposal?” A marriage offer so soon? Her husband was not yet one week in the ground. He couldn’t be serious.
Mr. Miller continued to shift and fidget in his saddle. “Yes. I, ah, know about…that is, I understand that your situation is, well, you have no means to care for yourself and your son…”
Fire ignited in her belly. Couldn’t care for herself and her son? Of course she could! She would do anything…everything…her shoulders fell. Of course he was right. Her hands were tied. There was no real work for a woman in her position. How would she support herself and Samuel?
That very question had kept her awake every night since Jed’s condition turned serious. But that didn’t mean she had to take any offer that came her way. Did it?
“Mrs. Haynes?”
Shaking her head, she refocused on him. “I’m sorry, what?” Had he continued talking?
“I said that I could take care of you and your son, offer you the kind of stability you need. A home, food, whatever you need to be comfortable.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why would you do this?” What was he after? She watched his eyes closely. Was that a leer? Or just an insecurity?
He cleared his throat. “I am in a position of needing to expand my ranch. If possible, I would like to take on your late husband’s herd.”
Relief washed over her. He didn’t have designs on her. They would each bring something to the table. A deal.
Would he want her to also share his bed?
“Would I have my own room?”
The man blinked as if that had not occurred to him. Had it not? “Yes, ma’am.” There it was again, the reddening of his face.
She released her arms and let them fall by her sides, eyeing the ground. Should she take this offer? Was there likely to be another? Or one so gracious?
Interlacing her fingers at hip level, she met his eyes again, opening her mouth to speak.
But he spoke before she could. “I’ll give you some time to think about it.”
She closed her mouth and nodded. That would be best. Not a quick decision. “Thank you, Mr. Miller.”
“I’ll call again tomorrow afternoon.” He pointed behind her. “But I think you’re other problem may be solved.”
She spun around.
Samuel stood in the doorway, door opened just enough for his face to fit through. How much had he heard?
Amanda jerked her foot back to stop the door.
Samuel ducked back inside and pushed on the door, but it wouldn’t budge with her foot in the way.
“Good luck,” Mr. Miller called, tipping his hat.
Amanda smiled and nodded before turning back toward her son and forcing the door wider. “Samuel James, you are in big trouble!”
As Samuel ran further into the house, Amanda couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder at the retreating figure on horseback.
The truth was that his offer was fair. Probably the best she could hope for. If she received another offer of marriage, it would likely include a different understanding. Concessions she wasn’t sure she would be willing to make. But, in her situation, she might have to.
Perhaps Mr. Miller would have a deal after all.
****
Brandon fidgeted with the cuffs of his best Sunday jacket. Moisture beaded on his forehead. Was it warm in here? He shot a glance at the preacher. The man seemed fairly comfortable in his jacket.
Perhaps it was something else then. He gazed at the ceiling and took some deep breaths. Was he truly that nervous? Why? It wasn’t as if this was a real marriage. Though it was the only one he would ever have.
He never had such silly notions as love. That was a grand idea, but did those marriages ever work out? His parents had been matched for better reasons and they seemed well suited for one another. Surely that was wisdom enough to seek a more logical process for choosing one’s life partner.
And what he knew of Amanda Haynes, though little, did not put him off. She was pleasant enough to gaze upon. Everyone that spoke of her told of what a good wife she was. The only criticism Cook ever heard tell of was that she kept to herself. He could find no fault in that. It may even be a trait that earned her admiration in his eyes.
A hand landed on his shoulder.
He turned.
Reverend Mason looked at him. “I’m certain she will be here any moment.”
Brandon nodded. How long had it been? Was she late? He glanced at Uncle Owen and Cook, seated in the first pew.
Uncle Owen gave him a nod and a smile.
Was he doing the right thing? No doubt he did the prudent thing. For this poor widow and for his own ranch. But did he preclude her from finding love again? That is, if she put such stock in these things.
The door to the small church opened, breaking his thoughts.
Amanda stepped in, holding her son’s hand, straggling behind. As she walked down the aisle toward him, her eyes remained glued to the floor. But his were on her. Would he remember how she looked this day?
She wore a cream-colored blouse trimmed in lace fabric. Her skirt was smooth and pink. Perhaps her best church outfit. Had he expected a white dress? No, that would not have been appropriate for a woman who had…well, who had already been married.
Her long, blonde hair had been pulled back and up in an attractive style with curls piled on top. She had even adorned the right side with flowers, which matched the bouquet she carried.
The boy did not seem truly aware or pleased at the circumstances. He scowled as his mother pulled him along. As she neared the front of the church, she set him on the front pew opposite Uncle Owen and Cook. She spoke some words to him in hushed tones. He whined in protest, but soon quieted. Then she pressed a kiss to his hair, and he leaned back, folding his arms across his chest.
What was Brandon going to do about the boy? He hadn’t considered how the youngster would feel about a new man in his mother’s life. And so soon after his father’s death. But nothing could be done about it at this point. Sometimes very adult decisions had to be made regardless.
Amanda turned and faced Brandon, smoothing a hand down her skirt. Then her eyes were on his.
And his breath caught.
She was quite a sight, up close. Her cheeks were flushed and eyes bright from the slight exertion. That only served to highlight her features.
“Sorry I’m late.” Her words came out in a breath.
Brandon opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. So, he closed his mouth and simply nodded.
“If everyone is ready, we can begin.” The preacher stepped closer.
Amanda nodded, licking her lips and grasping her flowers. Did he see a slight tremble in the delicate buds?
“Yes, Reverend,” he said, swallowing against a dry mouth. He shifted to face Reverend Mason and sensed Amanda do the same.
The preacher spoke words about the institution of marriage, but Brandon had a difficult time listening. He found himself stealing glances at Amanda. What was she thinking? Did she have second thoughts? Regrets?
Still, they moved through the ceremony, responding in turn when they were asked.
Amanda spoke the words that would bind her to Brandon without hesitation. Should it surprise him? It did.
“Now it is time for the presentation of the ring.” Reverend Mason turned toward Brandon. “Do you have the ring?”
Brandon reached in his pocket and produced the circlet of gold.
“Will you take the ring and place it on your bride’s finger and repeat after me?”
Brandon spoke the words after the preacher as he took Amanda’s smaller hand in his underneath the bouquet. Sliding the ring on her finger, which seemed impossibly smaller than his, he was surprised when he encountered resistance.
Her other wedding band.
His eyes shot to hers.
Hazel eyes widened and slid closed.
Reverend Mason, having paused, spoke in that moment. “Is there a problem?”
Brandon slid his wedding band off her finger.
Amanda pulled her hand out from under the bouquet.
The preacher’s brows shot up. “I see.” He eyed Brandon.
As did Amanda.
Everyone seemed to be waiting on him with baited breath. What was he to do? Was it his place to remove Jed’s wedding band? Surely that was something she needed to do. But everyone looked at him as if he should act.
So, he reached for her hand once more.
Her eyes flitted between his and the wedding band on her finger.
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He gently grasped it and pulled. It wouldn’t come. Twisting a little, he felt it budge. From there, it took little work to get Jed’s wedding band off.
His face warmed. Why did he have to do that? It just wasn’t right. To remove another man’s claim on his wife. She should have been the one to do it.
But he held fast as he slid his wedding band onto her finger.
Reverend Mason let out a sigh and continued, instructing Amanda to place her hand in Brandon’s.
He held out an open hand to her, but he now held Jed’s wedding band.
As her fingers reached for his, they hovered for just a moment over her former band. Perhaps no one else would have noticed. But Brandon did. And why shouldn’t she? It had been on her finger for years. She must be loath to part with it, perhaps one of the last pieces of her husband she had left.
Still, she pressed her fingers over his as instructed.
Brandon closed his hand around hers. And he continued to watch her face, but her eyes shifted toward the preacher soon after. Was she afraid? Embarrassed? He had not meant to offend her.
But soon after he turned his attention toward the preacher as well for the remainder of the simple ceremony. It wasn’t long before Reverend Mason spoke the final words and declared them husband and wife.
“You may now kiss your bride.”
Brandon looked at Amanda.
She didn’t meet his eyes. Her gaze caught on his chest.
Why had he not thought about this particular part of the ceremony? The woman seemed so scared, so vulnerable. She needn’t be.
He leaned forward, tilting his head down and pressed a kiss to the side of her face before pulling back.
When she met his gaze, her eyes were wide. Did she wonder at his simple contact? He wanted nothing more from her than what they had discussed. If she feared differently, then she was mistaken.
All he wanted…needed was that cattle. He needed it desperately. Now it was his. And that was all that mattered. Wasn’t it?
****
To read more of Amanda and Brandon’s story, look for
A Convenient Risk
on Amazon and at SaraTurnquist.com
Leaving Waverly: Novella Page 8
