The Rancher's Courtship & Lone Wolf's Lady

by Laurie Kingery

  “Excellent,” she said. “We’ll look forward to seeing you there. Nick, we’d better get going. I promised Prissy we wouldn’t be late for the wedding, since I’m one of the attendants.”

  Jack watched as the wagon rolled on toward the main road, touched by the neighborly gesture, while behind him, his men devoured the chocolate cakes. Raleigh made sure they saved a piece for him, but within five minutes, only the tiniest crumbs remained.

  * * *

  “I just love weddings!” Amelia cried, spinning around in an effort to get her pinafore to bell out like the skirts of the festively dressed ladies dancing with their partners.

  They stood against the wall of the ballroom of Gilmore House, flanking Caroline, who was seated. The floor was filled with celebrating couples dancing to the music of a trio of fiddlers. The after-wedding party was in full swing.

  “How do you know if you love weddings? This is the first wedding we ever been to, an’ you know it,” the ever-precise Abby informed her sister, but she swayed in time to the fiddling, her foot tapping.

  “We’ve ever been to,” Caroline corrected her, out of habit.

  “You never been to any weddings before, either, Aunt Caroline?” Abby asked. “I thought grown-up ladies went to lots of weddings.”

  Caroline said, “Yes, I’ve been to lots of weddings. I was correcting your grammar, dear.”

  But Abby apparently had no use for a grammar lesson outside of schoolhouse walls. “Bet this was the first wedding you ever gone to under a tree, Aunt Caroline, ain’t it?” she asked, referring to the site where the wedding had taken place, before everyone returned to Gilmore House for the party.

  Caroline gave up on grammar lessons, for now, at least. “Yes, it was,” she admitted with a smile. “We call the tree the Wedding Oak. Miss Prissy got married there because the church is being rebuilt, and because it’s a special place for her and Sheriff Bishop, her new husband.” She nodded toward the bride and groom as they waltzed by.

  “She’s so beautiful,” Amelia said, clasping her hands together and sighing. “I wanna be a bride!”

  “And so you will be,” Caroline told her. “And both of you girls will be lovely brides, when it comes your turn.”

  “But how do you know, Aunt Caroline? Maybe I’ll grow up and be a teacher like you. Then I won’t never marry,” Abby said. “I’d like to be a teacher, but I’d like to be a bride in a pretty dress like Miss Prissy, too.” She looked torn by competing possibilities.

  “Then perhaps you’ll be a teacher for a while and then marry,” Caroline said. She didn’t want these girls thinking once one became a teacher, one could never marry, just because that was what she had chosen.

  “Don’t you want to be a bride, Aunt Caroline?” Abby asked. She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You could marry my papa—he’s not married.”

  “Silly, she can’t marry Papa—she’s still missing Uncle Pete!” her sister said in a hushed tone.

  “But someday?” Abby persisted. “I think you two should—”

  “We’ll talk about that later, Abby,” Caroline interrupted quickly, relieved to see Milly bearing down on them, accompanied by her sister Sarah.

  “Are you young ladies having a good time?” Milly said, bending down to them.

  “Yes, Miss Milly,” they chorused.

  “I’ll bet you girls would like to dance, wouldn’t you? I just happen to know a couple of boys who would like to ask you, but they’re shy,” Milly said, nodding toward two boys who were eyeing the twins from across the room.

  Caroline recognized Billy Joe Henderson and one of the other boys from school. “Why don’t you go say hello, and maybe they’ll work up the courage?”

  Of course, now that they were aware of being looked at, the boys had taken to pushing and shoving each other good-naturedly.

  Abby looked at Amelia. By tacit consent, they set off across the floor.

  “They understand one another without speaking, don’t they?” Sarah commented.

  Caroline nodded, fighting the maternal swell of pride she reminded herself she had no right to. “They’re good children.”

  “I noticed you’re not wearing full mourning today, Caroline,” Sarah said, with a nod of approval at Caroline’s dove-gray dress with black trim at the collar, wrists, waistline and hem. “That’s a beautiful dress.”

  “It’s just for the wedding,” Caroline insisted, too quickly. She was illogically afraid that the two sisters could guess she had imagined joining in with the dancers, too, with Jack Collier as her partner. “It’s a wedding. I didn’t want to look so somber.” Her mother and father had both looked happy when they’d seen what she’d put on. Caroline knew her mother had made the dress in hopes her daughter would start wearing it months ago.

  “I think it’s very becoming,” Milly said, then added, with the daring only a longtime friend could muster, “Caroline, dear, no one would think less of you if you changed to half-mourning now.”

  Caroline deliberately let that pass. “And how are you feeling, Sarah?” she asked, for the younger Matthews sister, who had married the town doctor, was with child.

  Sarah glanced down at her abdomen, which barely revealed the swell of pregnancy under her dress. “Much better, now that the first few months are over.” She glanced meaningfully at the twins, who were in earnest flirtation with the two boys. “Oh, Caroline, what if I have twins, too? Nolan says they run in his family.”

  “Now he tells you! One at a time is enough for me,” Milly said, her gaze going to where Mrs. Detwiler, the town matron, was showing off baby Nicholas. “I declare, little Nick keeps me busier than a whole passel of ranch hands. Which reminds me, I met the twins’ father this morning, on our way here. Jack Collier is...um, quite the handsome fellow,” Milly remarked, as if merely informing her sister.

  Caroline shot her a warning look, willing her to remember the conversation they’d had in the schoolhouse the other morning.

  “If you’re sure you don’t mind, Caroline,” Milly said, “I think I will see if I can tempt him into joining in some of our Spinsters’ Club activities while he’s here this winter. It’s a shame to waste a good bachelor like that.”

  Sarah giggled, clearly unaware of the undercurrent of challenge in Milly’s words.

  Caroline knew what Milly was up to—trying to make her jealous. She made her shrug elaborate. “Be my guest. What Jack Collier does or doesn’t do is none of my business.” She ignored the pang which stabbed her heart at the thought. “And anyway,” she added with more sincerity, “the twins need a mother. Who knows what kind of Montana woman Jack would pick?”

  I must stick with my purpose. Would it take years before people took her vow of spinsterhood seriously and gave up matchmaking attempts? Surely her resolve would become easier once Jack Collier left. She stifled the thought of how it would feel when he came back to reclaim his children, perhaps with a bride, and Amelia and Abby left, too.

  Milly tapped an index finger to her upper lip thoughtfully, staring across the room at a trio of ladies from the Spinsters’ Club who had just sat down with cups of punch. “I think Jack just might suit Faith Bennett perfectly.”

  Caroline followed her gaze, firmly squelching the surge of acid that hit her stomach at the thought of Faith dancing with Jack Collier at an event such as this. Jack probably had two left feet when it came to dancing, anyway. “Oh, I think Faith would die of fright the first time she saw one of those grizzly bears they have up in Montana,” she said. “She’s sort of the timid type. I think Maude Harkey would suit him better. Her papa used to say she couldn’t be stampeded by anything or anyone.”

  Just then, the music ended. “Oh, look, Prissy and Sam are about to cut the cake,” Caroline said, pointing to where the bridal couple had stepped over to the tall confection Sarah had baked. “Let’s go watch.” She started across the floo
r, gesturing for Sarah and Milly to follow her.

  She missed the wink Milly and Sarah exchanged.

  Caroline was conscious of a lump in her throat as she watched Prissy Gilmore, radiant with happiness, feed her handsome groom the first piece of cake. The wedding guests applauded.

  That should have been Pete and me, half a year ago. They had been so in love, so sure that nothing would prevent a lifetime of happiness together.

  She wasn’t conscious of the tear that stole down her cheek, or that Amelia and Abby had rejoined her, until she felt Amelia’s hand tugging on the sleeve of her gray, black-trimmed dress. She bent over, and Amelia whispered, “Why are you cryin’, Aunt Caroline?”

  “Aren’t you happy for Miss Prissy?” asked Abby. The twins had met the bride and Sheriff Sam Bishop under the Wedding Oak after the couple had taken their vows.

  “Oh, I’m very happy for Miss Prissy and Sheriff Sam,” Caroline assured them, wishing they hadn’t seen the tear. “Lots of ladies cry at weddings...” she began, then stopped.

  She wouldn’t try to gloss over her honest feelings, even to the children. “I... I guess I was just missing your Uncle Pete,” she told them, and the two regarded her solemnly. Then, spontaneously, each gave her a hug.

  When she straightened, Milly was there, too, and placed an arm bracingly around her shoulder. It felt wonderful and reassuring, but she couldn’t help missing a different—masculine—shoulder to lean on.

  I have to get used to standing on my own, she reminded herself. I’ve chosen a different way.

  Chapter Seven

  The last notes of “I Love Thy Kingdom, Lord” died away, joined by a rustle of fabric and dried grass as the congregation sat down in the meadow the next morning. The song leader joined them, and Reverend Chadwick strode forward with Bible in hand.

  The twins sat with Caroline on a couple of spread-out quilts, with the older Wallaces sitting behind them on cane-backed chairs brought from home. Papa said his rheumatism made it too hard to get up again after the sermon when he sat on the ground.

  “I’ve never been to a church in a meadow, Aunt Caroline,” Amelia confided in a whisper, looking up at the overhanging boughs of the cottonwood trees. A mockingbird flitted from branch to branch with a flash of black, gray and white. A grasshopper jumped off her shoe, making her giggle.

  “We didn’t get to church much at home,” Abby whispered. “Papa said we used to go, when Mama was alive.”

  “Yeah, but he was always too busy around the ranch before we left,” Amelia added.

  “Well, I hope you like this one,” she told the twins. She felt a surge of love for the motherless girls which surprised her with its strength. In the short time they had been at her house, they had wormed their way into a big portion of her heart.

  “The church is coming along quite well, isn’t it, congregation?” Reverend Chadwick asked, turning to gesture toward the unpainted frame of the building rising on the site of the old one just beyond the opposite bank of the creek. His white hair gleamed in the gentle fall sunlight. “Lord willing and if the weather cooperates, before you know it, we’ll be worshipping inside again, just as the cold weather arrives. Hasn’t God been good to Simpson Creek?”

  There was a chorus of amens.

  “I’m reminded of Ecclesiastes,” Chadwick went on, “in which King Solomon writes, ‘There is a time to break down, and a time to build up.’ We experienced the first time, didn’t we? And now we are in the midst of the second, a time to build up.”

  “Hallelujah!” Mrs. Detwiler exclaimed.

  A time to be born, and a time to die... A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance, thought Caroline, remembering about the rest of the passage.

  She had dreamed of Pete again last night. She dreamed of him often. When her grief had been new, he’d come to her in dreams every night, and his presence had been so real, she’d hated to wake to the reality that he was gone. The dreams had decreased in frequency, but he always smiled and touched her cheek in that way he had done in life. But last night, after he smiled, he waved and seemed to be walking away from her. A time to get, and a time to lose...

  At the back of the meadow Caroline heard the sound of creaking axles and the snort of a horse. Some latecomer arriving.

  The twins jerked their heads around.

  “It’s Papa!” Amelia said.

  “Here we are, Papa!” Abby said in a stage whisper, waving.

  Around them, folks chuckled. Caroline put a finger to her lips, smiling to soften the rebuke, as Jack, hat in hand, made his way across the meadow to where they were sitting.

  “And if I may add to Scripture, a time to greet newcomers,” Reverend Chadwick said. “You must be the twins’ papa. Welcome.”

  “Sorry I’m late, sir,” Jack murmured.

  “No problem, young man,” Chadwick assured him.

  “Here, Papa, sit here!” Amelia said, patting the empty space she had cleared on the blanket.

  Reverend Chadwick went on with his sermon, and Caroline did her best to concentrate on the preaching and not on the man sitting with them. It was difficult. Jack shared many of Pete’s mannerisms—the way he cocked his head when he was listening intently, the relaxed way he rested his hands upon his legs, even the way he brushed away a fly—all were the same. If she had been less than the practical, feet-on-the-ground woman that she was, it would have been very tempting to close her eyes and pretend to herself that Pete was once again sitting beside her.

  Afterward, of course, everyone in town had to come up to Jack and introduce themselves, for strangers were rare in Simpson Creek—churchgoing strangers, at least. Caroline wanted to go home. After all, her mother could use her help with Sunday dinner, and there were lesson plans to make for the coming week at school. But the real reason was that it made her downright uncomfortable seeing folks who’d known Pete standing in conversational clusters out of earshot, indicating Jack with a nod of their heads and eyeing her in turn. She was fairly certain they were talking about how much Jack resembled his late brother, and speculating how that might make her feel.

  Surely no one would assume she would take up with Pete’s brother on the shallow basis of that resemblance, would they? Even the remote possibility that anyone could think that made her uneasy.

  “How’s my Billy Joe doin’, Miss Wallace? Behavin’ hisself, is he?” Mr. Henderson asked, breaking into her thoughts as his tobacco-scented presence invaded her nostrils. The man stood a few inches closer to her than was comfortable.

  Caroline would have liked to have been honest and said that Billy Joe could be the bane of her existence on occasion, but she did not want to be discouraging. “I find him a very high-spirited boy,” she said, “but when he applies himself to his lessons, he’s very intelligent.” She hoped she was being tactful enough but still getting her point across.

  But tact was lost on Mr. Henderson, and he hooted with laughter, slapping his leg. “‘High-spirited,’” he echoed, hooting again. “Miss Wallace, you said a mouthful! His mama says she has a headache from the time he opens his eyes in the morning till the minute he hops off to th’ schoolhouse, and then it’s gone right up till th’ minute he comes whistlin’ home.”

  Caroline couldn’t help but smile. Billy Joe often made her feel like that, too.

  “Well, you feel free to paddle him if he deserves it, and I’ll take him out to the woodshed when he gets home, too,” Mr. Henderson promised. “I heard you kept him after school the other day, but you let him off too light, just havin’ to write on the blackboard.”

  Caroline forced her features to remain pleasant. “In truth, Mr. Henderson, I think he hates having to write on the board a lot worse than he would a paddling.” She always thought there were better ways to correct a child’s behavior than corporal punishment, anyway.

  “Aw, now, don’t be goin’ to
o soft on the boy,” his father told her. “My paw always took a strap to me when I needed it, and it didn’t hurt me none.”

  Caroline knew his was a popular view, but she hadn’t grown up with such a father. Her own papa was firm and could certainly be stern, but he had never found it necessary to get out the strap, even with Dan.

  “Excuse me, sir, but I need to speak to Miss Caroline...”

  She turned to Jack with a smile, welcoming the interruption. She didn’t want to get into a debate with a parent on types of discipline. She was the teacher, and she would decide how to correct her pupils’ behavior at school. She had never used the paddle that hung behind her desk and never would. But this was not the place to discuss it.

  Henderson gave way affably. “Sure, sure. We were just talkin’ about my boy. Remember what I said, Miss Wallace—give ’im a lickin’ if he needs it.”

  “I’ll take what you’ve said into consideration, Mr. Henderson,” she said, as the man ambled away.

  “I was about to take the girls down to the hotel for dinner,” Jack told her, nodding toward the twins, who stood watching them from a few yards away at the roadside. “And then out to see the ranch site so they can see where I’ll be staying till spring. We got a fair start on the cabin yesterday, if I do say so myself.”

  “Of course, Mr. Collier,” she said, using the formal address lest anyone overhear them. “I’m sure the twins would enjoy seeing the ranch and your progress on the bunkhouse. And of course the food at the hotel is delicious. Be sure and try the apple pie. We’ll be at home, of course, whenever you’d like to bring them back.”

  He rubbed his jaw. “Well, Miss Caroline, the twins had a good idea and I promised I would ask you. Seems they’ve taken quite a shine to you, and they’d like you to come along with us for dinner and the ride to the ranch.”

  Caroline blinked. Of all the things Jack Collier might have said, she wasn’t expecting this. She firmly squelched the voice within her that wanted her to smile and accept his invitation eagerly. “I—I wouldn’t dream of intruding on your time with your girls, Jack,” she said in a low tone, hating the flush she could feel spreading up her cheeks. “You tell them I’ll see them whenever you bring them back from the ranch. Oh, and remember tomorrow is a school day, so they’ll need to get a good night’s rest.”