by Verna Clay
* * *
Brant watched Abby walk toward the group of children Jenny was playing with. The woman was as skittish as a colt. He smiled thinking about the sight of Abby on her knees chasing Ty. Unlike some women who would have chastised the baby, she'd laughed and played his game. Brant liked that. Yep, the more he was around Abby, the more he was beginning to think she would make a great ma for his children. If only he could get Luke to realize the same thing.
* * *
Abigail met more neighbors throughout the day and found that most treated her very well. Several came right out and asked personal questions which she danced around or suddenly found a diversion to excuse herself. After lunch, the men resumed raising the barn and the youngest children were put down for naps on blankets under trees. The older children were made to play quiet games.
Abigail sat on a blanket under the oaks with Ty asleep beside her. She leaned her head against the gnarled trunk. Around her, other women sat on blankets and she listened to gossip, upcoming church activities, and the best way to calm a colicky baby. She closed her eyes and envisioned what her life would be like in Philadelphia if she were still there. No doubt, she'd be creating school lessons, reading a novel or shuffling from room to room in her home. Viewing her circumstances with honesty, she asked herself if she would rather be there or here. The answer was obvious. She wanted to be here amidst these country folk and enjoying the sunshine, playing with children, and watching Brant wield a hammer. Lazily, she opened her eyes and searched him out. He was nailing boards on top of the barn. He'd rolled his sleeves up and unbuttoned his shirt to his navel. When he leaned back on his knees and removed his hat, swiping his face and neck with his bandana, she was again struck by his comeliness and felt desire unfurl in her stomach. I want to marry him.
When she considered her desire for this man, she knew his looks enticed her, but more than that, his kindness and love for his children drew her in. He seemed to feel her eyes watching him and turned his head in her direction. His gaze, even from a distance, made her heart flutter. Next to her, one of the young mothers said quietly, "Sure wish my man looked at me like that."
* * *
Brant washed up at the well. Enough of the barn was raised so that MacGregor could finish the details on his own. The cool water felt refreshing. Walking to his horse, he changed into the extra shirt he'd brought, and then returned to the house. Women bustled around the tables setting out supper and his stomach growled loudly. Around dusk, the musicians would fire up their fiddles and the hoedown would begin. Since Molly's death, he hadn't been sociable, and now he realized just how much he'd missed gatherings like this.
He went in search of Abby. She had Ty on one hip and was handing him a slice of bread with the other. She smiled at his baby and Brant got to see her beautiful teeth. He couldn't believe how much a smiled changed her face from plain to pretty. She looked up, still smiling, and his heart somersaulted.
"That food looks mighty good," he said, just to have something to say.
"You must be starving after working so hard." Abby licked bread crumbs from her fingers.
Brant had a sudden vision of lifting her fingers to his lips and licking the crumbs away himself. He looked quickly across the yard. "Guess I'll go find Jenny and Luke and see what they're up to."
Glancing around he spotted Jenny sitting with her girlfriends, each one trying to out talk the other. He didn't see Luke anywhere. Walking to the corral, he rounded a shed and found him reclined against the slats, staring into space, an open novel on his lap. His heart softened for the boy who was the spitting image of himself, and instead of berating him for being antisocial asked, "Is that a good book?"
Startled, Luke turned and then composed his features into bland indifference. "Yeah, it's pretty good."
Brant had a sudden inspiration. "Have you ever considered writing stories yourself?"
Luke gave him an incredulous look. "What? Me write a book?"
"Sure, why not? Since you love reading so much, why not write your own adventure tales?"
For once, Luke didn't seem to have a retort.
Brant started to turn around, but stopped. "You know, Miz Abby bein' a teacher and all, she could help if you got stuck on words."
A closed expression came over Luke's face. "I don't want nothin' from her, and I sure don't want her to be my ma. My ma's dead."
Brant sighed. "That's right, son. How many times do we have to have this discussion? Your ma's dead, but you're not. You've got your whole life ahead of you and your ma would want you to be happy. She'd also want your brother and sister taken care of."
"Would she want you sleepin' with another woman?"
Brant narrowed his eyes. "I can't believe you just said that."
"Well, would she?"
"She'd want me happy, Luke. And if that's what it involves, the answer is, yes." Brant walked away from his son.
At dusk, kerosene lanterns were lit in the new barn and everyone crowded inside intent on having a good time. The fiddlers tuned up and the hard working ranchers pulled out jugs of liquor while young bucks eyed young ladies and visa versa. Babies and small children were relegated to a corner and made to lie on blankets while mothers hovered nearby.
One of the fiddlers called out the name of a tune and tapped the body of his instrument with his bow, setting the timing. The other fiddlers joined in and lively notes filled the barn. Young couples rushed to the middle of the floor and started showing off their moves. Older couples and children danced on the fringes.
Brant watched Jenny dancing with Tommy, a boy her age, and laughed when he stepped on her toes and she yelled, "Ouch!"
Near the entrance to the barn he saw Luke leaning against the frame and watching the festivities. Marylou, one of Cora's girls, approached his son and said something. Luke shrugged and actually smiled at the girl. When he sat on a bale of hay and motioned for her to join him, Brant heaved a sigh of relief and then moved his gaze to the far corner with women and small children. Abby sat in a chair holding a sleeping Ty in her arms. Walking over, he said, "Let me lay him down so you can dance."
"Oh, goodness, no. I haven't danced in years. Besides, I don't know these steps."
He lifted his baby from her lap and laid him on a nearby blanket. "Will you watch him, Peggy Lynn?" he asked a young mother.
"I shore will," she gave him a conspiratorial wink.
Brant placed a hand under Abby's elbow. "Come on, Miz Abby so I can teach you these dance steps."
"I really have two left feet."
"Well, I have two right feet. So I guess that balances things out." He urged her from her chair and escorted her to the dance floor. Pulling her into his arms, he counted steps aloud and patiently showed her the moves. She was right about having two left feet, but it didn't matter. Before long he was twirling her around the room. The music picked up and her face flushed a lovely pink from her exertion. She laughed, flashing her beautiful smile, and Brant had a sudden desire to explore the mouth behind that smile.
The song ended and a slow one took its place. Abby started to walk off the dance floor, but he pulled her back. "Not yet, Abby." Holding her in a chaste manner, he guided her into the steps of a love ballad that toothless Charlie sang to perfection. Before the ballad was over, he'd pulled her closer and lowered his head to smell the freshness of her hair. The song ended and he didn't move away immediately. Abby broke their stance and said breathlessly, "I need to check on Ty."
Brant chuckled and watched her skirt away. My, but she was skittish. That fact, however, didn't bother him. He kind of liked the challenge of getting her used to him.
"Can I have this dance, Brant?" Lola interrupted his musings.
Because refusing would be downright rude, he said, "Of course, Lola," and reached for her hand. She snuggled close to him and made him wish he'd been rude.
Standing on tiptoe, she lifted her lips to his ear and whispered. "Brant, you really don't want to marry her, do you? At least Molly was bea
utiful. This woman is plain. How exciting can she be to a man of your…vigor? Don't you remember how it was when you kissed me? I have so much to offer you."
Brant wanted to groan. The woman was disgusting. "We've already been through this, Lola."
A pleading edge entered her tone. "Brant, I'll do anything you ask of me. I love you. I always have. I'd even go down on my knees and beg if I thought that would help. Just give me a chance."
Brant stopped dancing. "Lola, no. I'm not the man for you and you're not the woman for me. I'm not going to say it again." He felt her stiffen. So as not to embarrass her, he continued dancing, but when the song ended, he nodded politely and walked away.
* * *
The ride home by the full light of the moon was eerily beautiful. The older children slept in the back of the buckboard while Abigail held Ty in her arms. Softly, she said to Brant, "This has been a good day."
"Yes, it has. It's been a long time since I socialized with my neighbors. It felt good."
For the rest of the ride, they discussed the events of the day and laughed over funny happenings. Back at the ranch, while Brant and Luke unharnessed and bedded the horses, Abigail got Ty and Jenny to bed. As she tucked the covers around Jenny, the sleepy girl said, "I love you."
Abigail didn't know if she'd said it in her sleep or with awareness. No matter, it touched her mother's heart and brought tears to her eyes. "I love you, too, sweet girl." She bent and kissed Jenny's cheek and then the sleeping baby's.
Brant and Luke hadn't returned to the cabin and she was too exhausted to wait for them. Going to her room, she prepared for bed and crawled in. She was so tired the lumpy mattress didn't bother her. A knock on her door startled her awake. Was something wrong? She jumped up and opened the door wide, not even covering her nightgown. Brant stood in her doorway looking nervous. "Is everything okay?" she asked worriedly.
"I need to talk to you. Can you come outside for a minute?"
"Of course. I'll be right out." Abigail's heart pounded. What could be wrong? She tossed a cape over her nightgown and walked onto the front porch. Brant stood leaning against one of the posts. He didn't turn around and she walked to stand beside him. The light of the moon shone strong and enhanced the masculine planes of his face.
"What's wrong, Brant? Is Luke okay?"
"Luke's fine."
While she waited for him to speak, she listened to owls hoot and coyotes howl, feeling more nervous with each passing seconnd. Was he going to ask her to leave; tell her she wasn't right for him or the children?
Slowly he turned toward her. "I want to marry you, Abigail Mary Vaughn."
She held her breath.
He continued, "Soon."
She couldn't breathe.
"Will you marry me, Abby?"
Finally her voice worked and she said softly, "Yes."
"There's something we need to talk about though."
"Okay." She waited.
"Luke doesn't want me to marry you."
"I know that, and I understand how he feels."
"He doesn't want me to sleep with you, either."
Abigail placed a hand over her heart. Never had she imagined having this sort of discussion with a man and she wasn't prepared for it. She couldn't think what to say.
Brant said, "We need to talk about that part of our lives, Abby. I don't intend to be a monk. I expect us to be husband and wife in every way."
Abigail nodded, but she didn't know if he saw it.
"I'll give you time to adjust. You can stay in your own room. I don't know how long it will be, but…I'll try to be patient. It'll give Luke time to come around, too." He turned the full force of his gaze on her and Abigail felt her knees go weak.
She said, "I understand and accept your conditions, Brant Samson."
"Then I'll ride out tomorrow and ask the preacher to marry us on Sunday."
Abigail nodded.
"Before you go back in the house, there's one more thing, Abby."
She gazed questioningly up at him.
"I intend to kiss you."
Abigail's lips parted in surprise and his lowered to them. The kiss was light, sweet, but filled with so much promise that Abigail made a tiny sound and leaned into him. He cupped the back of her head and increased the pressure until Abigail was lost in a sea of sensation. She didn’t want to go back in the house. She wanted to kiss Brant all night under the moonlight.
He broke the kiss. "Miz Abby, I think you best go in now."
Feeling embarrassed by her aggressive behavior, she rushed inside.
Chapter 8: Wedding Day
Jenny helped Abigail dress for her wedding. Now that it was here, she was a bundle of nerves. The little girl cinched Abigail's corset as tight as a child of ten could and then helped her into the cream colored dress Abigail had designed and sewn with the help of a seamstress before leaving Philadelphia. Her marriage may be one of convenience, but it was still a special day that she'd wanted fond memories of.
Gently, Jenny touched the multiple lace layers spanning the bodice and sleeves. "It's so beautiful, Miz Abby! My Pa is gonna think you're the prettiest lady in the world."
Those words, spoken with such innocence, meant more to Abigail than her most precious jewelry. If only they were true. She had no illusions about herself. She didn't consider herself physically appealing and she knew Brant was only marrying her to mother his children. Yet, a spark inside her breast wanted him to look on her today with longing. Reaching for her wide brimmed hat with a short veil that she would pull down over her face before the wedding, she said breathlessly, "I-I guess I'm ready."
"Wait!" said Jenny. "You've got to have something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue."
"Oh, goodness. I didn't think about that." Suddenly, Abigail had an idea. "How about this for something old and something new—something old will be my name, Abigail, but something new will be the name your father calls me, Abby. I'll think of myself as Abby from henceforth."
"I like that, Miz Abby! Now what about something borrowed? Wait! I've got it in the trunk in my room!" Jenny rushed out the door and returned a few minutes later grinning widely. "My ma gave me this on the Christmas afore she died. And look, it's got blue stitches in it."
Tears sprang to Abby's eyes. "Thank you, Jenny. It's perfect." Tucking the delicate handkerchief into her sleeve, Abby bent and kissed her soon to be stepdaughter.
Jenny walked to hold the bedroom door open.
Placing a hand over her heart, Abby said a silent prayer of thanksgiving for her new family. Leaving her room, she paused in the doorway and inhaled a calming breath. Brant was sitting at the table sipping coffee. Ty and Luke were eating biscuits and boiled eggs.
Jenny called to her Pa, "Look Papa, isn't Miz Abby pretty?"
When Brant turned, he jumped up and almost knocked his coffee over. Jenny giggled. Ty said, "Pretty Mama," and Luke shoved a biscuit in his mouth, solemnly chewing.
"You look lovely," Brant said in his wonderfully deep voice. "And so do you, Jenny."
"You look very nice, too," Abby responded shyly. He wore black slacks and a handsome double-breasted white shirt. His work boots had been replaced by dress boots polished to a spit shine. His longish hair, combed back, still glistened with water and his blue eyes seemed even bluer in contrast to his deep tan. He was so much more than she had anticipated.
"Well, guess we best get started." Brant picked Ty up and walked him to the sink to wipe his hands and face.
Jenny rushed to the door. "Come on, Luke. Don't be a jerk today."
Luke narrowed his eyes at his sister.
Brant said, "You should eat something, Abby, before we leave. We'll wait."
"Goodness, no. My stomach has too many butterflies to make room for food." Her admission, spoken without thinking, made her want to cringe in embarrassment. Brant only did that "quirk of the lips" thing that meant he was laughing on the inside. He reached for his hat and slipped into a black frock coat. He look
ed so handsome and his shoulders were so wide, Abby could barely breathe.
As the horses plodded to the church, Jenny talked about everything from wedding dresses to the dietary habits of chickens. Wally followed them the customary half mile and gave his forlorn look when Brant ordered him home. Ty sat on the buckboard between his father and Abby and pointed to objects along the way. "Twee…burd…wabbit." Abby held her parasol over their heads and smiled, smoothing the baby's curls. She thought about the coming winter months and the lesson plans she'd already begun designing for Jenny and Luke. She was making picture cards for Ty.
"A penny for your thoughts," Brant said.
Abby met his gaze and smiled. "I've been thinking about lesson plans and some books Luke and Jenny might like to read. I've even got lessons planned for Ty."
Brant gave her a grateful look. "Thank you, Abby." His slow smile made her pulse race. Glancing back at the fall countryside, she pulled her cloak tighter and marveled at the colorful leaves, blue sky, and rolling hills of her new home that now seemed the loveliest place on earth.
Brant pulled the horses into the churchyard. On the outskirts of town, it was already filling with people. "Looks like the whole town's turned out for the wedding," he mused. He lifted Ty from the wagon, handed him to Luke, and then came around to help Abby down. The touch of his hands encircling her waist sent shivers up her spine and she felt her face burn. For an instant, his hands lingered and held her close.
Luke started walking toward the church and Brant said, "Hold up, son. We'll walk in as a family."
His words sent a thrill through Abby's heart. Never, during the lonely years of caring for her parents, had she believed she would have her own family. She'd imagined what it would be like, but never truly thought it would happen. Perhaps it wasn't too late for her to bear her own child. The possibility sent another wave of crimson color to her face and she glanced at Brant to see him offering her his arm. Smiling shyly, she accepted it and they all walked into the church together.
