Bluebonnet Bride

by Jillian Hart

  Linnea stepped out of his arms and wiped her tears with the back of her sleeve. No more fell as she faced him, chin up, nothing but courage. “She held me when I cried. Saw me through morning sickness. My father died, and even in her grief she never blamed me.

  “When my baby came, she stayed with me. And even when the doctor said the infant had died and I was bleeding badly, she didn’t let me go. She willed me to live and in the end I couldn’t leave her. I owe her my life.”

  Seth heard all she didn’t say—how many families disowned an unmarried pregnant daughter. He hated to think of Linnea hurting and alone. Pregnant and afraid. Giving birth to a baby that did not live. “She saw you through an unbearable time.”

  “She loves me unconditionally and without end.” Sadness twisted Linnea’s face. “How many daughters can say that about their mothers? She needs me, Seth. After all she’s done for me, it would be wrong to leave her now. I want to be with you more than anything.”

  “I know.” He felt pain. Anger. Loss. He was furious at the injustice of finding love. Only to lose it again. “Maybe you should speak with your mother. Tell her about the plans we made.”

  “Then she would feel guilty. She’s been so worried about being a burden. As if she could ever be that for me.” Linnea dipped her head and the brim of her sunbonnet hid the sorrow in her eyes. “This isn’t forever. Maybe you could wait for me.”

  Her lower lip trembled. She looked vulnerable and hurt. He knew just how that felt. He pulled her into his arms, kissing her tear-damp cheeks.

  “Forever is a long time,” he said quietly.

  She twisted away and fled, her skirts trailing behind her, taking all that mattered in his life.

  His world was ending, and he felt the darkness wrap around his heart. He couldn’t do this again. Couldn’t face sorrow again.

  He wanted to run after her and make her stay. Yet he wouldn’t be a man if he did. She had her duty.

  He had his.

  * * *

  Linnea couldn’t think of anything but the look on Seth’s face before she ran away from him as she tucked the diamond ring into the velvet pocket inside her cedar chest.

  “Linnea, dear,” Aunt Eva called from the front door. “We are leaving now to take your mother to the doctor. We must have his approval to travel so far with her. Do you need anything from town?”

  “I’ll run errands when you return.” There was Mrs. Jance to thank and her fabric bill to pay.

  “That’s fine, dear. How nice of the major to lend his horse and buggy. Elsa said that she had hopes for you and Mr. Gatlin.”

  “She actually admitted it?”

  “A mother never stops hoping for her daughter. You will keep packing while we are away?”

  “Yes.” Pain tore through her like a hooked claw, but she didn’t let it show. She tucked the sewing kit Seth had given her into the middle of the chest, for safe traveling.

  She didn’t want to leave. Her hands felt cold and clumsy as she began emptying Mama’s bureau drawers. The new trunks Uncle Frederick had brought shone like polished silver in the bright autumn sunshine.

  This is good for Mama. For all that she has done for me, this is my chance to pay her back.

  Linnea tried to find joy in that but failed. The truth was that she wanted to be with Seth more than anything.

  The house was in disarray. Claire had gone to town in the buggy too, her work here done. Alone, Linnea’s footsteps echoed in the parlor. The shelves that had held Papa’s books were empty. The tapestries were gone from the walls. The lace stripped from the tables and the curtains from the windows.

  Tomorrow, assuming the doctor said Mama could travel, this room would be empty. They would be on their way to Oregon.

  A knock tapped on the open door and she jumped. “Seth.”

  “I was in the fields building my corral when I saw the buggy leave.” He stood awkwardly, as if her porch was the last place he wanted to be. “Thought I’d take a chance on finding you alone.”

  “I am.” She couldn’t help noticing the quilt he carried over one arm. “Don’t tell me you’re giving me back the quilt.”

  “The one I bought for the woman I intended to marry.”

  Intended. Linnea gripped the back of the sofa for support. It really was over between them. “I don’t want it back.”

  He laid the delicate quilt over the rocking chair. “Maybe one day you’ll return it to me. When you’re free to marry me.”

  “You’d wait for me?”

  “I would wait forever.”

  Her bottom lip wobbled. “If I could find a way, I’d stay. I’d never leave you. Never.”

  “I know.” It made him angry but he understood. If she could walk away from her mother, who’d just had a stroke, then she wouldn’t be the woman he honored above all else.

  “I want to make love with you one last time.” Desire pounded through his blood, but it wasn’t sex he needed.

  It was Linnea. He wanted to cling to her one last time. To be a part of her once again. So that throughout the lonely nights to come, he would remember.

  “I don’t want to risk becoming pregnant, since we won’t be getting married.” Her bottom lip trembled. So vulnerable. “Once is all it takes. I learned that before.”

  “I don’t want to leave you pregnant. It wouldn’t be right.”

  Love for him burned greater than all the stars in the sky. Making love to him once wasn’t enough. Would never be enough. She craved him like the air she breathed.

  How was she going to be all right without him? To never again feel his kiss, his touch or the amazing thrill of him inside her?

  “I’ll drive you to the depot in the morning.” He sounded dead inside, tired and hurting.

  She longed to reach out for him, but she was afraid she’d never let go. “It would be best if you didn’t. It will only make it harder to get on the train. Uncle Frederick is hiring a wagon for our luggage.”

  “Then I guess this is goodbye.” He kissed her cheek, a brief brush of his lips. “We made love, and I’m going to worry about you. You’ll write me if you find out you’re pregnant?”

  “If I am, I’ll let you know.” Not that it would change her decision.

  It was time to leave him. She wanted to shrug off the responsibilities that tugged at her now and run into Seth’s arms.

  But a part of her, the sensible part that never wished or yearned, knew the truth. She’d chosen her path long ago, when she’d been young and loved foolishly. Her own choices had led her here, to this path she had to follow.

  She had Mama. Nothing could change that. Not even love.

  He tipped his hat, always a gentleman, and walked away from her for the last time.

  She didn’t sleep that night while she lay in the trundle bed next to her mother. But neither did she dream.

  * * *

  Dawn came quickly and Linnea forced herself out of bed. She washed and changed, shivering in the cool morning air.

  “Dotter, this is the day.” Mama pushed off the covers and sat up. “I cannot wait to get started. I dreamed all night that we missed the train!”

  “We have hours yet before we have to be at the depot.” Linnea shivered into her clothes. “Let’s get you dressed since you’re in such a hurry. I know this will make you happy, Mama.”

  “I thought you and the major might find romance, but I guess I was too eager, pushing you two together.” She shrugged her frail shoulders. “Maybe there will be a nice man in Oregon for you to marry. Eva says there is a good man who works in Frederick’s office who might be perfect.”

  “Promise me, no matchmaking.” Linnea knelt to unbutton her Mama’s nightgown, tucking away her heartache. She helped her mother dress and escorted her to the table.

  Aunt Eva was busy in the kitchen and had tea already steeping. Frederick stacked the trunks by the front door, his step echoing in the nearly empty room.

  Only the furniture remained, pieces Claire’s uncle’s family had
paid for.

  Linnea grabbed the milk pail and headed for the door. There would be one more milking before Claire’s family took the livestock, too. One more morning in this place where she’d spent her entire life. This place where she would leave her heart.

  She stepped out into the cool morning. A light frost glittered across the blades of grass and the fallen leaves. She closed the door and took two steps.

  A splash of color on the worn porch board caught her eye. Sprigs of bluebonnets, perfect and fragile. Made of cloth and silk. From Mrs. Jance’s shop, she guessed.

  Seth. She gazed down the road and through the grasses, but he was already gone. She gathered this last token and knew she would treasure it always.

  In remembrance of the man who’d loved her.

  * * *

  “Uncle Seth, you’re goin’ the wrong way.” Jamie saw fit to inform him in the middle of town. “I gotta go to the mercantile. I lost my slate stylus and I hafta buy a new one.”

  The train rumbled at the platform, westbound this morning, spewing a thick river of black smoke into the crisp air. Seth couldn’t look away from it. He didn’t see Linnea on the platform, so she had to be sitting in one of the cars. Maybe near a window, thinking of him.

  He wanted to hop on that train more than anything. But the boy at his side needed him. He couldn’t go.

  “Uncle Seth! I’m gonna be late.”

  He snapped the reins, sending General into the traffic on Front Street. A whistle blasted and the train chugged forward on the tracks.

  Taking Linnea from him. Taking everything that mattered.

  * * *

  “More rain! I had forgotten how much it can rain here at the end of January.” Mama chuckled from her rocking chair in the roomy parlor of their Oregon home, the calico curled up at her feet. “Look, my flicka. I have finished your dress. It only took me most of the winter!”

  “It took you so long because you can’t see. That you can sew at all is a wonder.” Linnea left the quilt she was finishing as a thank-you gift for Mrs. Jance, and knelt at her mother’s side. “You do fine work, Mama.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “I love it.” The stitches were so fine she could barely see them. Even the bits of ribbon and lace, the buttons and the buttonholes were perfect. “I’ll wear it to church on Sunday.”

  “You put as much work into that dress as I did. Marking the seams. Cutting for me. Checking my basting. That was too much work! Now I will make the sunbonnet to match.”

  “I will sew if you need it,” Aunt Eva volunteered from the sofa, her knitting needles clacking merrily. “Linnea, I have invited a young man to Sunday dinner. You might like him.”

  “Not again.”

  “This one has good table manners. Or, I think he does. Well, we can always hope he will not give us an embarrassing display of his digestive problems while we are enjoying dessert.”

  Mama and Aunt Eva burst into endless giggles, like young schoolgirls. How good it was that they were together.

  Linnea picked up her needle and knelt beside her quilting frame. Her thoughts wondered to Montana. It would be snowing. During the day, the prairie would sparkle beneath a bright winter sun. At night, the plains would glow black beneath a brooding sky and the mustangs would race the wind.

  Had Seth managed to capture them? Her dreams turned to him as they always did. As they always would.

  * * *

  “Getting used to me, are you, girls?” Seth spoke low and charming to the mustangs that were brave enough to approach the corral fence. He pulled quartered apples from his coat pocket and tossed them through the rails.

  The mares snatched the treats from the snow while the rest of the herd whinnied in protest.

  “You’ll have to come closer if you want a treat,” he told the others.

  The golden mare he and Linnea had saved from the barbed wire pushed close, demanding more apples with a shake of her head.

  “Come closer and I’ll give it to you.”

  The mare wasn’t sure about that and held her ground. It was a standoff Seth knew he’d win in time.

  He’d captured over half the herd—the thirty-three mares and almost as many colts. It wasn’t a bad way to spend his time working with horses on the high Montana plains.

  Except his life was nothing without Linnea.

  Dusk fell early this time of year, when the winds howled from the north, driving snow. The cold cut through his clothes, chilling him to the bone. He finished forking hay for the horses and broke the ice on their water trough.

  He headed for home, the claim shanty behind Ginny’s orchard. It looked as cold and lonely as he felt. He kicked off his boots on the front step.

  “Seth?” Ginny appeared on the path. “Are you busy?”

  “Just finished up with the horses. Come on in while I build up the fire.”

  He grabbed his boots and walked through the dark shanty. At the stove, he dropped his boots to warm on the hearthstones and lit a match. Light from the wall lantern filled the room.

  “What do you need me to do now?” He knelt in front of the stove and opened the door.

  “I just thought you should know I secured a job in town today. I’ll be working at the front desk at the Bluebonnet Inn.”

  “Good for you, Ginny.” He hid his surprise the best he could by stuffing wood onto the dying flames.

  “I’ll be taking Jamie to school from now on since I’ll need to start work at eight.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, standing in the corner. “You look so sad. You could come have supper with us if you’d like. I made chicken and dumplings for Jamie. I know that’s your favorite, too.”

  “Not tonight.” He appreciated the invitation, but nothing could fill the emptiness he felt. It would do no good to try. “I’ll have your mare hitched to the sleigh come morning.”

  “All right.” She nodded, lingering. “You miss her.”

  “I more than miss her.” He opened the damper and shut the door. “I don’t want to talk about her.”

  “You were going to marry her. You were in love with her.”

  “I still am.” He turned his back and took the coffee mill from the top shelf.

  “I’ve never seen you this sad.”

  “I’ll have your sleigh ready in the morning, Ginny,” he said sharply. “Goodbye.”

  “I kept you two apart. She didn’t tell you that, did she?” Ginny came closer, the shame in her words as dark as the shadowed corners where no light shone. “When I found out that you were serious about her, I threatened her. I told her if she didn’t break off with you, I’d tell you about her past. I said you wouldn’t want a woman who’d had an illegitimate baby.”

  “Ginny.” He slammed his fist on the table, pain slicing through him. “She had to bury that baby. You don’t know how it hurts to hold your lifeless child in your arms. It’s a pain that never leaves. Nothing can change it or ease it. What you did to her was cruel.”

  “As cruel as what I did to you. I hate that you chose her, but she made you happy. I could see that in you, the brother I remember from long ago. I’m sorry, Seth.”

  He nodded, holding back his anger and he shook with the force of it. “If I knew that at the time, I would have left. I’d have made sure you didn’t starve, but I wouldn’t have harvested your crop for you.”

  “I know. That’s how I knew Linnea didn’t tell you. I said more things that weren’t true. She didn’t break up my marriage. I only said that because I wanted to be angry at someone.”

  “Who are you angry with now?”

  “Myself. I got a good look at Jamie today when I went to visit Sidney and stopped to watch him play in the schoolyard. His clothes are secondhand and his coat is patched.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with handed-down clothes, Ginny.”

  “I know, but I could do better for him. His father won’t, and that made me realize I’m taking my anger out on everyone and I’m neglecting my child.”

  “That�
��s what I’ve been telling you.”

  “I know.” She touched the doorknob, ready to go, then hesitated. “Maybe you’ll find someone else to love one day. There are a lot of nice women in this town.”

  She meant well, he figured, but she didn’t understand. Because she’d never been truly in love, never had her life changed by its beauty.

  “They’ll be no other woman for me, Ginny. I intend to love Linnea for the rest of my life. Whether she’s here or not.”

  Ginny opened the door and left him alone.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Bright spring sunshine tumbled in through the curtained windows of her roomy bedroom, making the room cheery. Linnea folded the supply of winter shawls and sweaters—freshly washed and dried and no longer needed in May.

  “Linnea, I have one more.” Mama stepped into the room with a shawl in one hand. The pretty blue shawl she’d made with the yarn last spring remained around her shoulders. “This is my favorite, so I shall not be storing it. Let me help.”

  “I’m here to help you, Mama. Sit and enjoy the sunshine. Heaven knows it’s been so long since we’ve seen it.”

  Mama laughed. “I loved the prairie, but I missed this place. It was always green and fresh. Eva has invited us for lunch at her house. She spoils us. Let me help.”

  “No.” Mama may have fully recovered from the stroke’s effects, but she appeared more frail than ever.

  Linnea pulled a chair from the corner and dragged it over to the window. “Sit here and talk with me while I fold these things.”

  “Nonsense. I shall sit right here and put them away for you. Here, in your trunk?” Mama knelt to lift the lid.

  “No!” That was her hope chest, tucked with secrets not even her mother knew. “The trunk is against the wall next to the wardrobe.”

  The brightness faded from Mama’s face. She didn’t move. When Linnea stepped closer, she could see what her mother was touching with fingers sensitive enough to know the tiny stitches by feel.