It had all happened so quickly. So soon after the wedding. The day after their marriage vows had been exchanged. The day after the most wonderful night of her life. Gretchen felt the familiar surge of emotion tighten her throat as she recalled her wedding night. She reached up and loosened the collar of her blue dress.
He liked blue.
That was why she had chosen it for today. The color matched the bonnet which was set at just the correct angle on her head. The angle he had told her so many times that he found curiously fetching. She felt the corners of her mouth crease slightly with a smile at that memory. She looked across at her mother and saw that Beatrice was watching her intently with gentle, understanding eyes.
Gretchen glanced up at her father's wide back and powerful shoulders. He had worn a dark suit in spite of Beatrice's protestations. Gretchen's mother had complained that today was a day of reconciliation, a time to put the past behind them. Black was simply not the appropriate color for such an occasion.
Glancing across the hillsides, she recalled the many times she had spent together on horseback, enjoying her time in this place, taking in the delights of the Montana landscape. She recalled how proud he had been every time he'd shown her the different parts of his ranch. How he had told her the ranch would belong to her as much as to him, once they were married. And she had shared in his delights, hopeful of their future together in this place, in this beautiful, inspiring land.
She took in a deep breath. The air was so clean here. Better for the health of everyone than living in a town filled with the odors and physical dangers of modern living. Gretchen glanced down at the basket by her side and laid a steadying hand on it's side. Better for the health of everyone, she thought.
"There's someone coming up the trail," Gideon called out.
Gretchen looked ahead and saw a rider on horseback coming toward them. She glanced at her mother and saw that she had turned around in her seat and was trying to see the rider.
"Looks like he's slowing down," Gideon said starting to pull on the reins. The carriage slowed to a halt and the rider pulled up next to them.
Gretchen felt herself freeze. She was sure that the blood had drained from her face. Looking up at the startled rider she managed to force his name out of her suddenly dry throat.
"Trent!"
From his vantage point atop his mount a very startled looking Trent McIntyre looked down into the carriage with a look of complete disbelief on his face.
"Gretchen. It's you," he exclaimed, his voice cracking with emotion.
There was a stunned silence between them which was only broken when Trent's horse shifted nervously, sensing the rider's tension. Trent tugged on the reins and glanced quickly at Beatrice and Gideon. Gretchen's father was still holding onto the reins with a tight fist.
Gretchen felt the sudden need to take control of the situation. "Mama. Papa. You remember Mr. Trent McIntyre," she said.
Trent straightened in his saddle. He raised his hat and smiled weakly at Gretchen's mother. "Ma'am. I recall we met at the..." he started to say. However his words immediately trailed off at the near mention of the wedding.
"I do recall, Mr. McIntyre. It's so nice to see you once again," Beatrice said.
Gideon tipped his hat and leaned across the long wooden front seat. "I recall you are a neighbouring rancher to my..."
"It's so nice to see you, Trent. How is your lovely wife?" Gretchen said, interrupting her father.
Trent's eyes widened and he paused, glancing from Gideon to Gretchen. "Chloe? She's fine."
"And your lovely little one?" Gretchen asked.
"Evan's great. And we have a little girl too, now."
"Really? That's wonderful. What's her name?"
Trent smiled at the mere mention of his recently born daughter. "Lily."
Gretchen cooed with delight. "That's so lovely. I am so happy for you," she said enthusiastically.
Trent nodded and his chest seemed to swell with pride. "She's got us both run off our feet. But she's adorable," he said.
Trent leaned on his pommel and tipped the front of his hat up. "Where're you folks headed?" he asked. Gretchen could see Trent's eyes narrow slightly. She could tell he already knew where she and her parent's were headed. There was nowhere else they could possibly be going.
"We're on our way to the ranch," Gretchen said.
After a moment Trent uttered one word which made something shift in Gretchen's middle. Something she'd felt so many times these past months. It was a feeling she'd tried so often to ignore, but had failed to do every time.
"Hunter's?" Trent asked, his voice deep and serious.
The word hung in the air like a challenge, demanding an answer. At first neither Gretchen nor her parents could respond to the word.
But after a long pause Gretchen spoke up: "Of course," she said, a tinge of defiance creeping into her voice. She immediately regretted taking that tone because one thing she knew about Trent McIntyre was that he didn't deserve to be spoken to with any kind of harshness. Trent was a good man. She recalled how Hunter had spoken about his friend. And the times she and Trent and Chloe had socialized had always left Gretchen with pleasant memories.
Gretchen wondered for a moment whether she should ask how Hunter was keeping. Was he well? Was he even happy? Was he alone?
The fact that Trent hadn't said anything must mean that Hunter was still at the ranch.
"Have you just come from Hunter's ranch?" Gretchen asked.
Trent paused and Gretchen saw him settle back into the saddle. He looked as if he were debating whether to answer. After a moment he nodded. "I was just there this morning, helping out with some of his improvements to the ranch house," he said.
"Improvements?" Gretchen asked.
Trent smiled. "Hunter likes to keep himself busy. He's making some extra room at the house."
"Why ever for?" Gretchen asked.
Trent's lips tightened into a thin line and he said nothing for a moment.
Gideon spoke up. "I'm pleased to know Mr. Sinclair is in today. We have some important business to discuss with him," Gretchen's father said gruffly.
"Papa. Why must you insist on calling Hunter, Mr. Sinclair?" Gretchen demanded.
Gretchen glanced at Trent and saw the discomfort on his features. He looked like he wanted to be on his way.
"Gideon. Don't be so foolish," Beatrice said loudly, turning to face her husband. "He's Hunter to all of us. Always has been and always will be," she said with a disapproving scowl. Gideon's lips drew tight into a thin line and he sighed noisily, admitting defeat once again.
Gretchen looked up at Trent. He was peering down at the two baskets, and he looked like he was trying to figure out the contents. But from his angle atop the horse Gretchen was sure he couldn't make out what lay inside either basket. She placed a protective arm across the basket by her side.
"I suppose we best be going," Gretchen said quickly. "It's been so nice seeing you Trent. I'm sure we'll meet again soon. Send my best wishes to your lovely wife," she said.
Trent frowned, a hint of surprise at the haste with which he was being dismissed. For that was what Gretchen was doing. She dearly wanted to avoid putting Trent in an awkward position, especially if he was to learn what was in the baskets.
Trent nodded and touched the front of his hat. "It's been a pleasure seeing you folks again," he said. "You all take care now."
Gretchen smiled at Trent. "Thank you, Trent."
And with a tug on the reins and a flurry of dust Trent rode quickly off, heading away along the trail.
Gretchen glanced at the baskets. She was amazed that they hadn't been disturbed by the temporary halt to their journey. They'd both slept since the arrival at the train station. Gretchen thought that, at the very least, the sound of the stranger's voice and the presence of the horse would have woken one of them.
Gretchen leaned down and pulled away the blanket and looked at the tiny face of the baby tucked safely inside the bask
et.
Still asleep.
Gretchen looked over toward her mother who similarly leaned into the basket by her side. Beatrice looked up, nodded and smiled.
"Still asleep," she informed Gretchen.
"Are we ready to continue?" Gideon asked staring straight ahead.
Gretchen pulled the basket closer to her and held it firm against her side. "We're ready, papa."
Gideon flicked the reins and the carriage started to move once more along the trail.
Gretchen glanced down at the baby's face.
Her daughter.
Hunter's beautiful daughter.
The little pink face looked so serene, so peaceful inside the protection of the layers of blankets. The pink hat was tied with a bow around the neat little chin. The baby's lips were set into a heart-achingly cute pout that never failed to make Gretchen's soul light up with pleasure. Gretchen could hear the soft breathing of her bundle of joy.
Gretchen glanced across at the other basket and saw that Beatrice was holding the basket close against her side as if her very life depended on it. Inside that basket was yet another bundle of joy.
Her son.
Hunter's beautiful son.
Gretchen looked up and wondered just how long it would take them to get to the ranch. Because she was suddenly very eager to get this whole thing over with. More eager than she'd ever been since giving birth to the children; more anxious than ever to tell the man she had married almost a year before that she was coming back to the ranch.
And that she was bringing back a truly wonderful surprise.
Two beautiful twin babies.
CHAPTER THREE
"This is your last chance to change your mind, Gretchen," Gideon said as he pulled the carriage to a halt under the high wooden gate that marked the entrance to the ranch. The wide wooden board that stretched between the high posts on either side of the trail had letters carved into them. "Ranch HG" it said. She remembered that Hunter had said he was going to rename the ranch after their wedding, but she hadn't realized he'd actually gone and done it.
HG. Hunter and Gretchen.
She peered ahead. There was the house. She felt a flurry of nerves in her stomach as she looked at the white painted panel front, the long porch that stretched along the front, the closed shutters of most of the windows. She could see that on the end of the house there was some kind of construction going on.
It was all exactly as Trent had described. Had Hunter actually been building extra rooms? Why would he have done such a thing? Only himself and Mrs. Roper had been living in the place this past year. There was more than enough room for two people. In fact, too much room.
Could it be true that Hunter had been building with other occupants in mind? Had he even expected Gretchen to return?
She found that thought strangely disconcerting. The idea that Hunter had been building in the hope that she would return made her draw in a deep, calming breath.
"Are you okay, my dear?" Beatrice asked.
Gretchen swallowed, in spite of her tightening throat and nodded. "I'm fine, mama. I think it's time to let Hunter know he's a father," she said bluntly.
Gretchen saw her mother frown slightly. Gideon exhaled a noisy, exasperated breath. "Well, he is still your husband, I suppose."
"Now, now, Gideon," Beatrice said. "Let's try to look on the positive side of all of this. Think of the grandchildren."
Gideon spun around. "I am thinking of them. And of our daughter and what she insists she must do," he said, his voice filled with the frustrations of the past few days. He'd tried so many times to dissuade Gretchen from coming back to the ranch; tried so hard to convince her that she was making a mistake; that her husband wouldn't accept her once he found out what had happened.
But, Gretchen had held firm, determined to have her way, something Gideon had taught her to do since she'd been a child. So it was curiously fitting that the very character traits he'd instilled in his own daughter should be the cause of Gretchen's determination to put the past behind them. All that mattered now was what was best for the children. Nothing else mattered.
And now she was about to present the husband she hadn't seen for nearly a year with the biggest surprise of his life.
She realized her entire body was filled with fear and uncertainty and those butterflies in her stomach just wouldn't stop dancing around. Gretchen saw her father shake his head and turn to face the trail that led to the front yard of the ranch.
"Let's get this over with, papa. It's what I want," Gretchen said. She glanced down at the face of her daughter. "It's what they need," she said with a melancholy smile.
Gideon flicked the reins and drove the carriage under the gate, on toward the ranch house. In the distance Gretchen could see some of the ranch hands going about the daily business ranch life.
Gretchen's eyes searched, trying to find any sign of Hunter. She couldn't see him in the corral or near the barn. She wondered if he would be at the house at all. Usually at this time he'd be out with the herd or dealing with damage to the fenced borders or work of that kind. Hunter was no stranger to hard work.
A sudden thought flashed into her mind, unbidden and previously unconsidered. After so long apart, would they both be almost strangers to each other? Would there be anything left of the relationship they'd built together? Gretchen sighed and clutched the basket.
And then she saw him, standing alone. It was almost ridiculous that he should just be standing on the porch, as if he was waiting for her. But there he was. She knew it was him, as much by the reaction she felt in her fluttering heart as by the sight of him. He was leaning against a supporting post on the porch. He looked casual and almost nonchalant as he rested his shoulder against the wooden support. She couldn't see the details of his expression but she knew it was Hunter.
And, with a sudden quickening of her heartbeat, she saw that he had noticed their arrival. She saw Hunter stiffen upright, his gaze locking onto the carriage arriving on his property. Gretchen saw him take a step forward onto the hard dirt of the yard.
The carriage drew closer and came to a slow halt in front of the ranch house. Gretchen glanced over at her mother. Beatrice blinked slowly and nodded. A slight smile creased the corners of her mouth. Beatrice steeled herself and turned to look toward Hunter.
He was standing stock still, his hands hanging loose by his side. His dark eyes were wide in disbelief, their expression a burning gaze searing straight into Gretchen's core. She felt her legs and arms become numb, her fingers tighten into a ball. Tension locked her entire body tight.
Hunter looked exactly as she'd remembered every day since she'd left. His long legs were planted into booted feet which were splayed defiantly apart. His tall figure and wide shoulders seemed to be frozen, rigid and incredulous. Dark hair settled across his wide forehead. The normal healthy color of his cheeks had paled. His fine, narrow nose and full lips stood out against the deathly pallor of his face.
But, in spite of the obvious shock her husband was feeling, although he looked like he was having trouble staying on his feet, Gretchen thought he was still the most handsome man she had ever set eyes on.
Gretchen reached out instinctively and pulled the basket closer to her. It pressed hard into her side, but she felt a familiar reassurance. She saw Hunter's mouth drop open and his brows furrow.
Still, he was rooted to the spot. Still, he hadn't said a word.
Gideon tied up the reins to the front of the carriage seat and turned. He looked at Gretchen, an expectant look on his face.
Then Hunter spoke one word, his voice soft, barely audible, cracked with emotion, weaker than Gretchen recalled it, but filled with feeling that was entirely natural and to be expected under the circumstances.
"Gretchen?" he gasped.
He repeated her name again, this time more firmly, but still in a tone filled with astonishment. "Gretchen. Can it be you?"
Gretchen tried to smile but found that she was unable to do so. Like Hunter
she felt rooted to the spot. She tried to stand, thinking that it was the right thing to do. A welcoming gesture. But, yet again, she found she could not move her body.
Then Hunter took a few slow steps closer and now he was almost by the side of the carriage.
Gretchen glanced toward her father. He was still sat firmly on the front seat of the carriage. A few steps more and Hunter had his hand on the side door of the carriage and he was so near to her that she could see the emotion shining in his eyes. The total disbelief.
"Am I dreaming?" she heard him ask no-one in particular. "Tell me I'm not dreaming," he said.
Up close he was as handsome as always. His dark eyes glistened and he peered so deep into her own eyes that she felt something stir deep inside. It was a familiar sensation. One that she'd known for all the years she and Hunter had been sweet on each other.
Gretchen reached over and laid her gloved hand on Hunter's. There was a rush of feeling all through her body as she touched him. Again. Familiar. Not altogether unwanted. She wrapped her fingers around his and squeezed ever so gently.
"You're not dreaming Hunter. It's me," she said quietly.
Hunter's face lit up, his eyes suddenly bright, color rushing back to his face. She saw him glance over toward Beatrice and Gideon. A questioning look appeared in his eyes. Gretchen could see him struggling to comprehend what was happening. His eyes came back to her and she heard him draw in a huge breath. His chest filled and he took a small step back. But he did not let go of her hand.
"What are you doing here?" he asked after a long pause.
"We're here because your wife, who is also my daughter, wants to be here," she heard Gideon say firmly. Gretchen turned and gave her father an admonishing look.
Hunter turned to Gideon. "What do you mean?"
"Only that my daughter has the foolish notion that this place should be her home," Gideon said angrily.
"Father!" Gretchen ejaculated. "Please. You promised you wouldn't say such things," she pleaded.
Gretchen looked at Hunter and saw that the color of his face had turned a deep shade of red. "Seeing as how you're the one who persuaded my wife to leave me without giving me a chance to find out why, I find that pretty hard to take. Especially coming from a man like you, Gideon."
Hunter's Montana Bride (Montana Ranchers and Brides #8) Page 2
