The Betrothed (Cutter's Creek Book 7)

by Vivi Holt

  “See you soon, then.” Harry nodded and climbed back onto the wagon seat, gathering the reins into his now calloused hands.

  “Bye.” They all waved their goodbyes and the brothers turned to head back out of town to set up camp for the night.

  Harry urged the oxen forward and they soon found the gate marked Todd. “Here we are.” He climbed back down from the wagon and strode to the door to knock.

  Within moments, the door was flung open and an elderly man stood at the threshold, his face split by a wide grin. “You must be Harry Brown!”

  “Yes, and you must be Sam.”

  Sam Todd stepped forward and pulled Harry into an encompassing embrace, patting him heartily on the back. “Good to see you, son. So good to see you. We’re glad you’re here. We got your letter a few weeks ago and couldn’t believe our eyes when we read you were on your way. And so close! My my, and who do we have here?” He stepped around Harry and waved to the women, then ducked his head back toward the door and called out loudly, “They’re here, my dear!”

  A cry emanated from within, and soon a plump lady with a round face and a twinkle in her bright eyes appeared before them. “Heavens above, you made it! It’s quite the journey – we did it years ago and I’ve no desire to undertake such a trip again, I can tell you. Well, well, do come inside, please do! I’ve already fixed supper, but I’m sure it will stretch well enough for all of us – I’ll just add some extra bread and cheese.”

  Harry succumbed to her embrace with a shy duck of the head. Then she strode to Camilla and Charlotte, who by now had climbed down from the wagon seat and Honey’s back, to envelop them within her arms as well.

  Harry hurried over to catch hold of Honey’s reins. “I was wondering if you had somewhere I could bed down the livestock, Uncle.”

  “Yes, of course, my boy. We have a barn directly behind the house. I’ll help you.”

  “Let’s leave the menfolk to their animals, my dears,” Sam’s wife said. “Come on inside with me – you must be exhausted!”

  Chapter Forty

  Charlotte lifted the wooden spoon to her lips and licked the cake batter. Mmmm … vanilla cake was always a special treat. It had been so long since she’d eaten anything so delicious. The cake was already in the oven and Charlotte was cleaning up – or at least, licking the bowl clean.

  She was enjoying the sweet treat, but was preoccupied by thoughts of Maria Holloway. She wondered what had become of their friend. Was she even still alive? What were the Army doing to bring her back? They still hadn’t heard any news, and her heart was heavy over it. She sighed and pushed the spoon around the bowl one last time, scraping up the remnants of the creamy batter.

  Two loaves of bread rose on the window sill, lit up by the wan sunshine and warmed by the heat emanating from the fire in the stove. Camilla and her Aunt Estelle were in the sitting room, before the fireplace, knitting and talking about England and family. Charlotte stood in the kitchen, listening in and smiling at the stories that each of the women shared about events from their past.

  “… And you know, Sam never tried to swim the breadth of a river again, after that.” Estelle finished the latest tale with a laugh as she slapped her hand on her knee.

  “Oh my! Well, I can’t say I blame him.”

  “And what of your mother and your brothers and sisters?” asked Estelle, her knitting needles poised to take on another row of stitches.

  “They’re well – as well as can be expected given the situation. At least, they were the last time I heard from them, which was back in New York. So I suppose anythin’ might have happened since then. I’ll have to write to Mam tonight to let her know we’ve arrived safely.”

  “That reminds me, she sent you a letter – it arrived about a week ago. Let me see, where did I put it?” Estelle stood to her feet and hurried from the room. She returned shortly with a cream envelope in her hand. “Here it is. Yes, it was sent only about six weeks ago, so should be fairly current.”

  She handed it to Camilla, whose eyes were wide and bright. “Oh really? I’m so glad – I can’t wait to read about what they’ve been up to. I do miss them all, terribly at times. Although I don’t miss cleanin’ up after the little ones, chasin’ them around trying to bathe them or gettin’ up with them throughout the night.”

  Estelle exchanged a knowing look with Charlotte across the kitchen table and smiled. “I’m sure you miss them, my dear. But it’s good you’re getting the chance to be young and carefree. It doesn’t come around but once.”

  Camilla opened the envelope, her knitting abandoned in her lap, and set about reading the letter. Estelle joined Charlotte in the kitchen, lifting her apron from the nail by the back door and tying it around her generous waist with a smile. “I might get started on lunch. The men will be back before too long, and no doubt they’ll be hungry after their hard work today getting the stock settled out of town.”

  “I still can’t believe Harry already bought himself a block of land. We’ve only been in town a week.” Charlotte grinned and reached for a cloth to wipe the mixing bowl clean in the wash basin.

  “He’s not wasting any time, that’s for sure. But it is a very pretty piece of property. He was determined to buy it from the first moment he saw it, I do believe. And I can’t say that I blame him. It made me almost want to move out to the country myself, when I saw that rise overlooking the valley where he plans to build his house. It’s breathtaking, really.”

  “All of Montana Territory seems to be breathtakingly beautiful to me, so far.” Charlotte’s eyes took on a dreamy look when she thought about the sweeping mountain ranges, wild woods and magnificent color palette of the countryside surrounding Cutter’s Creek.

  “It is indeed. We love it here. Although with winter fast approaching, your love of this place will be sorely tested soon enough. It’s a beautiful place, to be sure, but it has harsh winters and my old bones find it more and more difficult with each year that passes.”

  Camilla skipped into the kitchen, her eyes wide. “Oh Charlotte, Mam says that your parents had almost given up hope of ever finding you when they got your letter. Your mother was heartbroken over it all. No one ever sees her outside the walls of Beaufort Manor anymore. You father never smiles, and the village is full of talk of your disappearance. Only Mam knows where you are, since your parents haven’t told anyone, but since we asked her not to say anything, she hasn’t so far. She’s worried about your folks.”

  Charlotte’s heart plummeted and her eyes filled with tears. “Oh no – they haven’t forgiven me. I was sure they would..” She burst into sobs and fled from the room, stumbling out through the front door –

  – and directly into Harry’s chest. “Whoa! Hey, what’s wrong, Charlotte? Whatever’s the matter?”

  She cried against his waistcoat, her hands clenching the thick broadcloth. “It’s my parents – they hate me! They know where I am – but they can’t, or won’t, forgive me! That’s why they didn’t send me any money or write to offer me help …”

  “Oh.” He wrapped his arms around her and patted her gently on the back. “There, there. It’s going to be all right. We’ll just write to them again and explain everythin’. They’ll understand, I’m sure they will.”

  She pulled back and looked him in the eye with a frown. “They’ll understand? It’s been almost a year. They won’t understand at all – they’ve disowned me, given up on me! Oh what will I do?”

  “You know what? Let’s pray about it,” said Harry, his arms still embracing her.

  “Pray about it? What good will that do? They’ll still hate me.” She burst into fresh tears and pressed her nose up against his chest.

  “God will find a way, I promise you.”

  “Fine, you can pray. I’m going to take a walk.” She pushed away from him and set off down the street with a huff.

  What was wrong with him? These days, it seemed like his answer to everything was to pray about it. It was true, he seemed different somehow
– their days on the trail had changed him. He seemed disinterested in gambling. He hadn’t kissed her again since their last discussion about it. And he had a peaceful air around him, as though he truly believed everything would work out in the end without him having to worry about it at all.

  Perhaps it was something to do with God, although Charlotte had known about God her whole life and had never experienced anything real of Him. If He was real. If He was who He said He was, then why hadn’t she experienced Him? What had she to show for a life of church-going and a hundred prayers recited?

  She shook her head and sighed. She’d pray about it, only because she didn’t know what else to do. After all, if God was real, and he made the prairies and the great mountain ranges, and everything in between, surely he could do something about her parents.

  ***

  The next morning, Harry headed out early. His uncle’s house was still dark and no one was up when he grabbed a slice of bread and a cup of milk from the pantry and headed out to work. He’d found a job with a friend of Sam’s. He strode down the street, still chewing the last of the bread, his breath drifting in small, foggy puffs from his mouth as he walked through the frigid air. He shivered and pulled his coat more tightly around him.

  He’d found the perfect block of land on the outskirts of town. It was everything he’d ever dreamed of, and he had plenty of money to buy it with enough left over to build a house. It was all working out so much better than he could have imagined. He thought about the house, set on a rise overlooking the Yellow River with Cutter’s Creek in the distance, and his heart leaped within him.

  If only Charlotte would agree to spend her life in that house with him, he’d never ask for anything else from life. But it seemed it wasn’t to be. She’d been clear how she felt about him and she hadn’t shown him any indication that she’d changed her mind since.

  God, please change her heart. Or change mine. But whatever comes, may it be Your will.

  He turned the corner and ended up in front of a quaint house on the edge of town. A small glow within revealed the occupants were awake. He knocked quietly on the front door.

  A man answered and opened the door with a smile. “Harry, you made it. I was just about to leave.” Over his shoulder, he called, “Bye, Constance.” A murmured goodbye drifted out of the cozy house, and he shut the door behind him, rubbing his gloved hands together. “This is my sister Constance’s house. She and her husband have been kind enough to let me stay here until we finish building my place, but even though it’s taking longer than I’d hoped, I can’t complain – the food here’s too good. Phew, it’s getting cold already.” He blew on his hands with a grin.

  “Sure is.Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to help build your home. I worked as a silversmith back home – I finished my apprenticeship in England before I emigrated. But I’m a quick learner and I’ll work hard, I promise you that.”

  “Silversmith, eh? Well, I’m sure the time will come we’ll need one of those in Cutter’s Creek. In the meantime, we’re glad to have you on the team.”

  “I want to learn everything I can, since I’d like to get started buildin’ my own house as soon as possible.”

  “Ah, I see. Well, I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out to help you. ‘Course I’d suggest waiting until spring. You won’t get much construction done in the winter months, not with the weather we’ll have.”

  “Of course. Thanks.” Harry smiled in the burgeoning light of dawn. So far, everyone he’d met in Cutter’s Creek had been warm, inviting and eager to help in whatever way they could. If things kept going at this rate, he’d be on his own land and in his very own house before summer. Life was good.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Months had passed and winter was slipping away on the warming spring breeze rising up from the southern plains. After his Saturday morning prayer time with Justin and Winston, Harry had left the house early and hurried toward the land. His land.

  He’d taken to calling it Sunrise Peaks, since he could sit on the foundation of his future home and see the sun rising over the eastern hills, illuminating the peaks of the Bighorn Mountains behind the house with slivers of yellow, orange and silver light. It was a sight to behold and one he hated to miss. He wouldn’t have to miss it soon, given that the house was almost done.

  He’d waited until spring, until the snows had melted enough for him to haul in the supplies he needed. Winter had passed and with it a warm and cozy Christmas at the Todds’ – their first in Cutter’s Creek together. He smiled when he saw the house, perched on the rise above him. The walls were up and the roof was on. Today, he’d be fitting the windows and doors. The rest of the week would be spent inside the house, getting everything ready.

  Ready for what? His eyes narrowed as the thought crossed his tired mind. Charlotte had drifted further than ever from him during their time in Cutter’s Creek. Camilla had begged him to let her go, to move on and find someone else. But he couldn’t seem to give up on her. She’d certainly given up on him. She’d allowed herself to be courted by a number of eligible men from the surrounding area. Young, single women were a scarcity in these parts.

  He shook his head. Not only did he have to contend with Charlotte’s stubborn nature, but now he had to compete with every young buck in Montana Territory looking for a wife. And given how pretty and cultured Charlotte was, she caught the eye of just about every man who saw her.

  He sighed and lifted his new Stetson from his head to scratch at his hair. He certainly looked like a Montanan these days, with his hat, dirty brown pants, long-sleeved shirt, vest and the holster that was permanently attached to his hips. Since their run in with the Lakota on the trail, he’d taken to wearing the gun everywhere with him. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing anyone else in another attack.

  During the week, after a full day with the same crew he’d worked with to build Heath’s sprawling mansion, Harry wanted nothing more than to sit by the fire with his feet up and a warm mug of coffee in his hands. But every afternoon he hiked out to his house to work on it. And the hard work was paying off. He’d be able to move into it in a couple of weeks.

  He smiled and hurried to the timber pile to begin construction of his front door. The months of building had honed his skills – the foreman had called him a natural. It certainly felt natural to hold the timber between his calloused hands, to run the plane over it, to find a rhythm with his saw or fix a piece in place with his hammer. He enjoyed the physical exertion of construction and his body had hardened in response over the winter months.

  ***

  Charlotte sighed and ran her hands over the bodice on the table in front of her. She’d taken up sewing and mending for the women of Cutter’s Creek – something she’d always enjoyed doing in England, but had never really been allowed to pursue. She had been drawn to sewing at a young age, beginning by making dresses for her dolls. She’d made all of her own riding outfits and a lot of her house dresses. Even the occasional ball gown, although Mother had generally insisted on having them made, as in her eyes it was unseemly for a lady to make her own.

  Most of the women in the area didn’t know anything about the latest fashions or which fabrics worked best for what types of gowns. Neither could they afford to pay someone to sew for them. But since Charlotte had been given a thorough education on all things fashion related from a young age, she felt as though it was her responsibility to help where she could, and it didn’t hurt to get a small payment from time to time from those who could afford it. The work brought in enough to pay a minimal board to the Todds and to buy the things she needed, and for that she was grateful.

  She’d finally heard back from her parents a few weeks earlier with two letters almost at once. Saint Anthony’s church had forwarded the first letter to Cutter’s Creek, on the instructions she’d given them before she left New York. It was dated many months earlier, and looked to have been diverted through various cities and ports before finally landing in her
hands. No wonder it had taken so long for her to hear from them. They’d received her latest letter and their correspondence was full of admonishments, and anger, but she was certain there was a hint of forgiveness as well. Apparently Mary had waited, as Charlotte had asked her to, before she told them what Charlotte had done. Although Mary didn’t know where she was, she did know Charlotte hadn’t been kidnapped, and that had been a great relief to her parents prior to receiving her first letter to them from New York.

  They weren’t happy that she was living on the western frontier of the New World and, in their eyes, completely alone and vulnerable. But they understood why she’d done it and asked her to stay in contact with them. The letters they sent had filled her eyes with tears. To know that they didn’t despise her for what she’d done filled her with joy – and at the same time with sorrow, since she missed them all so much. She teared up again as she thought about it.

  Perhaps Harry had been right – their prayers must have made a difference. She had been certain her parents would be furious with her and want nothing more to do with her, and yet they’d had something of a different reaction to what she’d expected. She closed her eyes for a brief moment and thanked God for his intervention in beginning a reconciliation with her parents.

  She remembered back to something Sister Bertram had said on the steamship all those months ago, about how God would be with her. She smiled. It certainly seemed as though He was – every time she thought all was lost, somehow things turned around.

  The front door flew open and Harry strode into the house, his eyes sparkling and his teeth white beneath his bushy beard. “Charlotte, just who I was looking for.”

  She brushed the tears from her eyes to smile at him. “Oh?” She pushed the needle through the fabric, blotting it with her thimble and glanced up at him with arched eyebrows.