by Reina Torres
“Ride safe,” she said the words as if she were asking for a favor. “I’ll miss you until you’re home again.”
He grinned as they passed between the Assay Office and the Crystal Dawn Saloon. “There’s only one thing I look forward to whenever riding a leg for the Express.”
“Oh?” She lifted her sweet face into the oncoming wind, a smile playing on her lips. “What is that,” she wondered aloud, “besides the obvious battle of wills with your horse over the route?”
He laughed and drew her closer to brush his lips against her cheek. “Well, Sassy is a strong-willed horse, but she’s also as fast as the wind when it counts. Still, that isn’t the most important thing about me leaving Three Rivers during my rides.” He slowed their steps as he reached the next crossroad. The itinerant rental housing that lined the road to their left had been a part of Three Rivers from the beginning of the town. Tents had occupied the space first, and then the owners had added one building after another to house more men and, of course, make more money.
It was a common sight in Three Rivers, the last row of old buildings before the expanse of land between the center of the town and the sprawling square of four large homes being built by the rivers.
Wyeth didn’t want to remind her of the house that her father’s builders had finished a few weeks before, a house that he moved into without her. So, changing their path to curve ever-so-slightly to the right, Wyeth drew Tillie under the shade of a tree standing at the corner. To the left they saw a small cottage, awaiting the arrival of windows and the completion of an inside wall. “You know that Ransom and Delia are moving to town,” he began and waited for her reaction.
“Yes, I think Olivia mentioned that. I’ve had just a few moments to speak with Delia, but she seems like an absolute dear.”
Wyeth beamed with pride. “Ransom was a lucky cuss and thanks Levi for his good fortune every day.”
“Levi? Mr. Hawkins? What did he have to do with Ransom’s marriage?”
“Levi hired Delia’s father to run the station a few miles west from town.” He grinned down at her. “Now that Delia’s expecting, he wants her close to town in case they need help.
“Of course, Olivia is looking forward to the birth.” Tillie beamed back at him. “And with Mrs. O’Neal expecting as well, the town will have two babies to keep us entertained for months.”
He heard the pure joy in her voice and knew he couldn’t stop now. He had to make sure that he didn’t make a mess of this again. “What do you think of the other house?” He used the hand that he had gently placed on her hip to turn her to the right, just a few inches.
There was the beginning of a second house. Walls and roof were framed, the floor was set, and there was enough wood set aside to finish the little cottage.
“Can I,” he felt his heart seize when she spoke, “may I go inside and look?”
He smiled at her, watching as her eyes roamed over the cozy little structure. “Absolutely; no one will mind.”
She moved forward and stepped up from the ground to the porch, using her hand to hold onto one of the posts. She stepped through what would be a wall, turning back to give him an impish smile. From there she moved into the middle of the large room. “This is the main room,” she murmured to herself.
He nodded. “The living room and kitchen.”
Tillie walked about, her hands moving through the air as if she felt furniture under her hands. She turned back to him, and he almost felt the joy and the wild beating of her heart.
Did she know? Could she read it on his face?
“What about the rest of it?” Tillie moved a few steps closer, her hands closing over his forearm. “Show me, please?”
How could he ever say no to the warm look in her eyes, the soft touch of her hands?
Turning his arm so she could grab a hold of him, and he lead her through the framework of a door. He quickly explained there would be two bedrooms and some storage in between. When he was done, he turned, putting his back against the frame of the door. He searched her eyes and found an eager look and a spark of joy.
“It’s wonderful!” She leaned against him and he wrapped an arm around her middle, settling his hand on her hip. “Are Clay and Emma moving into town?”
He opened his mouth to speak, and she rolled right over him, her eyes roaming about the cottage again.
“I would love to live in a home like this,” she sighed and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “Imagine how warm and cozy it will be in the winter? How lovely would it be to add tender touches on the walls. A photograph of a family. Curtains over the windows. A quilt on each bed.” She closed her eyes and he watched her as she drew in a deep breath. “What a lovely thought to dream on tonight.”
“Tillie?”
“Hmm?” Her dreamy sigh wasn’t lost on him. “Yes, Wyeth?”
He turned her slightly, managed to wiggle his hand into the welt pocket of his vest. “I brought you here to see what we’re building because I wanted you to know,” his eyes closed for just a heartbeat before he lowered one knee to the ground, “this house is for you. For us.”
Wyeth gripped the band between his fingers, desperately hoping that she couldn’t tell how worried he was. He also hoped that he wouldn’t drop the ring and spend the rest of the night pulling up the floorboards to find it.
He held it out and the afternoon sun danced off of the golden circle. “Tillie Weston, I have loved you since I met you, and I will do my best to be worthy of your love. Every day you’ll know that you’re cherished and treasured. And I thank my lucky stars that I’ve found you now so that we can grow old and silly together, hopefully raising a handful of children along the way.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but he was too focused on his words.
“Or maybe a dog? I know we’ll have to have horses. Sassafras would likely kick me if I didn’t buy her and take her with me if I ever leave my job, but I don’t expect you to take care of a horse, unless you want to.”
“Wyeth,-”
“But if we do have children,” he continued on, “I hope you want children, Tillie, a whole passel of them, but if not, I still love you. But children would be a joy, wouldn’t they? But don’t worry about that at the moment, I just want to say-”
“Wyeth?” She reached out a hand and gently brushed her fingers through his shock of pale golden hair, pushing it back from his forehead.
He knelt there, completely transfixed by the look in her eyes. “Yes, Tillie?”
She laughed and he felt the sound like rays of sun on his face. “Ask me the question before we’re too old and grey to have little ones.”
His heart thundered in his chest, his hands began to shake again, but this time he didn’t falter.
“Tillie, my love… will you marry me? Let me take care of you and love you always?”
She nodded, and they both watched as he slipped the ring over her finger. When it sat warm and glowing on her finger, sparkling with the light of the autumn sun, she found her voice. “Yes, Wyeth, but only if you’ll let me take care of you, too.”
“Absolutely.” He got to his feet, tugging her closer with his hand on hers. “And the love,” he gently held her away from him until he could see the look on her face, “won’t you promise to love me too?”
“You know I do,” she sighed, “but I’ll be happy to tell you every day as long as you promise to marry me too.”
Wyeth felt his heart swell with pride. From this moment on, he knew that every challenge that appeared in their paths, they would face it together.
Leaning forward, he touched his forehead to hers. “I’d marry you every day if you’d let me, sweetheart. I love you.”
Touching his fingers to the underside of her chin, he lifted until his lips pressed against hers. He felt her tremble, felt the way her hands clung to his shoulders. He wound both arms around hers and hugged her close.
Chapter 13
Preparations for the wedding had the Express Station i
n a whirl. Olivia and Claire helped to work on her dress while Anna had her hands full keeping Tillie calm and informed on everyone’s progress. Tillie had rarely seen Wyeth since the day he proposed to her, but she couldn’t complain. Between working on the houses with Ransom and taking his usual runs for the Express, Wyeth was working non-stop to ready their home before the wedding.
On an unseasonably warm night, Mr. Poston grumbled a greeting at Tillie. “Your man’s outside.” Tillie had bounded to her feet and met him on the porch. He pulled his hands from behind his back to take hold of her hands the instant he saw her.
“Oh, Goodness!” She turned his hands over, and even in the pale light of the moon she saw the welts and scrapes on his hands. “Wyeth!”
He smiled as she led him to the chairs on the porch. “You’re so lovely when you’re scolding me.”
She almost smiled at his sweet tone, but she rolled her eyes instead. “The other day you said I was lovely when I smiled at you.” Tillie sat down and pulled him down into the other chair beside her.
“Well it’s true, Tillie. You’re lovely all the time.”
Her laughter was almost a sigh. “You do know how to say the sweetest things.”
“I say what I feel, Tillie. When I’m on the trail, half-asleep in the saddle, and parts of me aching where no one wants to ache, I think of you.”
There was a moment of silence between the two of them, and then they both burst out laughing. “Goodness,” he groaned and let his head tip back to rest against the wall. “That was fairly horrible.”
She smoothed her hand over his forearm, feeling the soft cotton of his shirt against her palm and the warmth of his skin beneath it. “At least I know you’re not infallible.”
“Just tired, sweetheart. Just tired.” His eyes closed, and he set his arm around her back, tugging her close against his side. “I just wanted to see you, and hold you close, if only for a minute.”
“I’ll give you more than a minute,” she sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Just tell me you’re getting some rest.”
“Rest?” He mumbled the word into her hair and then she felt him shift back in the chair. “I’ll rest more when you’ve said your vows, and I have you beside me. But for now,” he drew in a deep breath, lifting her head slightly with the movement, “we have walls, windows, a roof. And by Friday, doors.” There was a moment of silence and then a softly spoken request. “Make sure your dress can fit through the door, Tillie-love. When I carry you over our threshold, I don’t want to tear your hem. The ladies will turn on me in a heartbeat.”
She laughed and smoothed her hand over his heart, enjoying the warmth of his skin through the soft weave of his shirt. “I wouldn’t mind,” she replied, “I know you’re handy enough with a needle and thread to fix it.”
He groaned. “If you want a button on it, otherwise, have a care with your dress, my love. I hope you’ll wear it again for me.”
“Absolutely,” she replied, “it’ll be my best dress for years to come.”
They sat there in companionable silence until Tillie heard Mr. Poston clearing his throat, loudly, several times, just inside the door.
It was sadly time to go. “Good night, Wyeth, I-” She stopped short as his lips parted on a soft snore.
Looking down at her future husband, she felt pride, but even though she didn’t want to wake him, the porch outside of the boarding house wasn’t as soft as his bunk at the Express.
The door swung open and Mr. Poston appeared in the frame. “Go on and go up, Miss Weston.”
She flinched, waiting for him to grump at her.
“I’ll get him up on his feet and point him toward home. Don’t you worry about it.”
Tillie was more than a bit shocked. Mr. Poston’s usual tone was a little harsh. “Thank you, Mr. Poston.”
He waved off her kind words. “Bah, it’s not that I like the man, nor you, if I’m honest, but he might disturb my rest if he gets to sawin’ logs more than what he’s doin’.” He stepped forward but paused a moment later. “I’ll help him, but if he tries to hug on me or plant a kiss on my face, I’ll knock him into next week.”
“Good night, Mr. Poston.” She couldn’t help the smile on her face. The old grump had just revealed his good heart to her, but she was smart enough not to point it out. “I really appreciate your help.”
He watched her go. “And I’d appreciate you movin’ out,” he mumbled at her back. “All this sweet young love is startin’ to make my teeth ache somethin’ powerful.” Clamping a hand on Wyeth’s shoulder, he shook the younger man awake. “Come on, now; go sleep in your own bunk!”
Wyeth reached out a hand toward Tillie’s empty chair, and Mr. Poston took pity on the younger man’s nerves so that his own would be unaffected by his panic. “The lady went to her room. I’ll have no scandal on my doorstep.”
He watched the young man move down and into the street, pausing a moment to look up at the second-floor window that fronted Tillie’s room. Mr. Poston huffed out a sigh. “Young love, not for the weak of heart.”
If they said the course of true love never did run smooth, they were most definitely talking about the town of Three Rivers. Wyeth had planned to be with Tillie at the depot when his family arrived, but Luke had come down with a fever and Wyeth took his route. The mail must be delivered, and Tillie had been able to wave as he rode past less than an hour before the Pierson Stagecoach was scheduled to roll into town.
Taking a seat on the rickety bench that one of the hands had left outside the door, Tillie withdrew a ball of yarn from her bag and sat down to crochet a bonnet for Mrs. O’Neal’s baby. Making quick work of the start and focusing on the right counts of stitches drew her focus until she had quite lost track of her surroundings.
“Well, Mr. Weston, have you made a decision?”
Tillie missed the loop with the end of her hook and sat still in the shadow of the depot.
“You’re nothing if not persistent, Pierson.” Her father’s familiar voice was unmistakable. “I’ve had some time to think about what you offered and I am not quite sure I can believe you.”
“Believe me, or not.” She could almost hear Pierson shrug his shoulders. “The Express will fail; I know that as certain as I’m standing right here. If you’ve important papers or cash deposits you need done, you can trust my men. The Pierson Stage Company will take care of things for you.”
“The Express,” her father bit back, “as much as I hate to admit it, does a good job and a damn sight faster than your stage. I still don’t believe that you have as much pull as you intimated to me, if you’re stationed all the way out here.” They both went silent and Tillie looked down at the yarn in her hands and saw that her hands were trembling.
“Believe what you will, Weston.” Pierson wasn’t even bothering to hide his anger. “When the Express is gone and I’m the one left, you’ll pay for your shipments. You’ll pay dearly.”
“And you,” her father’s tone was low, but his words spat out like bullets, “keep in mind that I don’t like people telling me what to do.”
By the sounds that reached her ear, both men were walking off in the direction of town.
Realizing that her nerves would keep her from continuing with her project, she quickly tucked it away in her bag. By the time she finished stashing the yarn and the hook, she heard the heavy footfalls of Charlie as he climbed down off of the roof. When the boy reached the ground, he gave her a wave and a smile, pointing off toward the East.
Smiling, Tillie nodded. “Thank you, Charlie.”
The boy nodded and smiled even brighter as he opened his mouth and a garbled sound reached her ears. Charlie was a good boy. Large for his years, or at least that’s what Mr. Clemens had told her. The boy was also mostly deaf. He could hear loud noises, but if he wasn’t looking at you when you spoke, he wouldn’t have any idea that you were talking to him.
Darting over to the depot wall, he picked up a slate and chalk and ran back over to her.<
br />
He wrote on the slate and showed it to her.
SOON
He used the side of his hand to wipe off the word and started again.
MAMA?
Tillie blinked back tears, knowing that he was asking if she was expecting her mother. Instead of explaining the whole situation, Tillie held out her hand for the slate and he gave it over to her hands. She wasn’t sure exactly how much he could read, but Mr. Clemens had said he had a sharp mind. Used to having people underestimate her, Tillie wrote out one word above MAMA –
WYETH
And then she rubbed out the ‘?’.
Charlie took the slate back and stared at the word, narrowing his eyes at it for a long moment.
Tillie offered up a silent prayer that she hadn’t hurt Charlie’s feelings or made him feel silly.
She moved closer to take the slate, but his head whipped up and she saw him grin from ear to ear.
Pointing at the word WYETH he opened his mouth and something akin to the vowel sounds of Wyeth’s name came out, and Charlie jabbed a finger into the sky at the broad and blinding glare of the sun and then grabbed a hold of his hair.
Tillie narrowed her gaze as she struggled to make sense of the message. Sky. Day. Sun. Sun. Hair. Blond hair. “Yes, Charlie.” She grinned and gave his arm a little friendly squeeze. “Yes. Wyeth.” She pointed to the sky and then her hair. “He has hair like the sun.”
Charlie’s smile warmed her heart, but it was the look of accomplishment in his face and the pleasure glowing in his eyes that made Tillie cast off her worry from moments before. And in perfect timing as well, for a dust cloud appeared just on the other side of the river, rising up above the stage as it climbed the high sloping hill toward Three Rivers.
Rushing off to ready the feed and water for the horses, Charlie left Tillie waiting at the front. It was, as these things went, a rather exciting moment for her. Meeting Wyeth’s mother and some of his siblings was something she was looking forward to. Unlike her father’s feelings for Wyeth, Jane Bowles was excited to welcome her into the family, and the idea of having sisters and a brother… well, that was Tillie’s dream.
