“Love?” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper.
“I might not love you as much as Will does Eliza or Everett does Julia—not yet, anyway—but I don’t see any reason why I wouldn’t love you as long as I let myself. I’ve actually been rather certain you’d steal my heart and run away with it. So I closed myself off the second I had an excuse. I was so hurt when Lucy left, and I didn’t feel nearly as much for her as I already do for you.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground between them. “To save myself from pain, I kept myself from joy as well. It felt safer to deal with the wilderness.” He huffed and looked out over the Clines’ hay fields. “I’d always thought the Israelites were stupid for wanting to go back to Egypt when the Promised Land was . . . well, promised. But it seems I’m not that much smarter than them.”
She swallowed, but he seemed intent on turning himself inside out before her, so she held her peace. Her heart softened as she watched him struggle for more words. When Silas Jonesey decided to talk, he clearly did a thorough job of it.
His cheek twitched, but he’d yet to turn and look at her. “When you told me about your past, I figured you’d ruin my future like Lucy had, but as I held that bottle yesterday, I realized she hadn’t ruined my future. She gave me a son and led me to you. God worked good from the bad—for what other way would I have met you?”
He turned to face her, his eyes piercing, his throat seemingly trying to swallow a lump. “But if I’ve lost you . . .” He closed his eyes, his whole body tense. “It’s my fault, not God’s. I didn’t trust Him with my future, and when I realized you couldn’t promise me that you’d stick around and ensure me lifelong bliss—”
“I sure don’t sound like the most desirable bride when you put it that way.” She could have pointed out that she hadn’t run these past few weeks—but was that because she’d been trusting God regardless of the outcome or because she’d been stuck?
“And I’m not the most desirable groom. That wine bottle indicates how easily I could fail you. So all this to say, I want to shed my fears and not pin my hopes on a person—as I hope you will too—but rather trust God for the future He wants to give us.”
She clasped her hands together, her gut shaking again. So did he want to marry her or not? “What am I supposed to do with the wine?”
“It’s yours, a symbol of the risk you’d take if you marry me, but also that I commit to vanquishing that stronghold. You and Anthony are worth fighting every vice I have. But I figure if you’re willing, and if you thought God wanted you with us, then you could add your boots to the crate.”
“But I don’t have another pair.” She cringed at her hasty response. “I guess that’s like giving up a good wine.”
“You don’t have to do it.” He let out a steady, controlled breath. “But I figured we could hand the symbols of our weakness over to Reverend Finch as a way to commit to keeping our flaws from undermining our vows. . . . If we were to wed, that is.”
To hand over her boots and promise to never, ever run . . . Why wasn’t she giddily saying yes? She’d wanted him to propose again, but what if none of her dreams about marrying him turned out as she’d imagined? What if he did start drinking again? She’d refused to marry Jasper because of his drinking. She’d been beaten by her brother-in-law when he was drunk.
“Please don’t decide right now, Kate. I want to know you’ve thought everything through. But no matter what, I don’t want the wine back, and here.” He picked up the money and held it out for her.
She stared at it. “What if I don’t choose the money?”
“It’s yours to do with as you please. Either way.”
“Either way?”
“It’s for you, especially since I made such a mess of things . . .”
When she didn’t reach for it, he shrugged, a self-deprecating smile on his lips. “God tried to bless me with you, yet I pushed you away. I care for you too much to tie you to a man who’d do such a thing unless the promised land God wants for you has me in it.” He moved closer and placed the money in her hand, wrapping her fingers around the wad of cash with his own. “And if that promised land isn’t with me, you could get there with this.”
He trailed a finger down the side of her cheek, his lips pressed together to form a stressed smile, his eyes a mixture of sorrow and warmth. “I wish I hadn’t let you down. I wish I could promise I’d never do it again.” His thumb ended up on her lower lip, his eyes lingered for seconds, maybe minutes, and then his hand dropped. “No matter what you decide, would you pray for Anthony, at least?”
She felt herself nod, but she couldn’t get her lips to move. She was doing well enough to breathe.
He let his gaze run over the features of her face as she tried to think of something worth saying. But what could she say that had been thought through with the care and time he asked her to put into an answer? “I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a slight smile, and his gaze dropped to her mouth again, but before she could step closer, he turned and with one stride, grabbed the wagon’s side and swung himself up into his seat. He put a finger to his brow in good-bye and called for the team to giddap.
In minutes, he disappeared into the untamed prairie.
She stared after him, head whirling. For all her pining, what if she’d been grumbling through a wilderness of her own making, forcing her way toward a promised land that didn’t exist?
Chapter 22
With a groan, Silas yanked out the huge sandstone he’d been digging around for the past few minutes. He pushed the hair from his face, but the malicious wind only threw dirt into his eyes. Though his lips and cheeks were already chapped, he had to clear this field. He needed it arable by spring to make up for the land he’d sold—because of course, Mr. Thissen hadn’t wanted this overgrown section cluttered with rock.
The frosty wind blasted Silas again and would have toppled him if he were a few pounds lighter. He kept his head down and feet planted until the gust weakened. Days like this were never pleasant for working, but with Anthony at school, he hadn’t enjoyed sitting at home sharpening knives in silence. His mind kept wandering to Kate, to what he should have said yesterday, or what he shouldn’t have—
“Silas.”
He looked around, but saw no one. And now he was imagining her voice even out here. The wind blew more grit into his eyes. Blinking and rubbing, he turned his back to the wind. Time to give up and find something to do in the barn. He marched home, blowing warm air into his icy hands.
If he walked fast enough, maybe his heavy breathing would shut off his brain.
Was there any man who could propose to a woman worse than he? Why had he talked about himself as if he were some terrible wretch? He wasn’t Richard Fitzgerald or even Ned Parker. Thinking back over yesterday’s proposal—where he’d basically told her there was no hope he’d remain sober—how could he expect a positive response?
And why hadn’t he told Kate the things he liked about her? Like how she was so caring and tenacious. A feisty woman like her could survive Kansas, provided she didn’t blow away.
He tried to catch a feed sack tumbling past but missed. The fabric snagged in the blackberry bushes. He tugged it free, then crossed to the barn. With the wind whistling through the slats, he put the bag on the pile and leaned his shovel against the stack for good measure. He squatted beside Yellow Eyes, huddled in the corner, and scratched behind his ears. “I don’t blame you for hiding today. Your skinny little body’d get blown into town out there. You’d think a storm was coming, but I don’t smell one or see one. Just a bunch of dumb wind.”
The mongrel barely opened his eyes to acknowledge him.
“Silas?”
He jolted up and turned to the barn door as Kate blew in, most of her hair hanging loose, her pins jumbled inside her tresses like brambles. Her skirts whipped around the crate she held.
He rushed over to shut the door.
<
br /> She plopped the crate down and attempted to smooth her wild hair behind her ears, pulling pins as she went. “And I thought it was hard to keep my hair up in Missouri.”
He wanted to fix the pin sticking straight out from behind her ear but wasn’t sure that’d be acceptable. “I didn’t expect to see you until Friday or Saturday when Everett usually comes to town. You didn’t walk all the way here, did you?”
She shook her head and finally dislodged the wayward pin bothering him. Her dark auburn hair hung thickly to the middle of her back. No wonder she couldn’t contain it.
She shoved the pins in her pocket, then gathered and twisted her hair over her shoulder, nervously running her fingers through the tangles. “Mr. Cline came into town early.”
“I didn’t mean to steal you away from Julia.”
“She was all right with it.”
They stood staring at each other. Did she know how uncomfortable she looked? She’d stopped messing with her hair and now wrung her hands, transferring her weight from one foot to the other.
Wait. Bare toes stuck out from under her skirts. “Where are your boots? It’s not exactly warm outside.”
“They’re in the crate.” She pointed to her boots flopped over the wine bottle he’d given her. “I only have one other pair of slippers, and they wouldn’t have lasted the walk out here.”
His heart kicked up a notch. She’d chosen him? Without him telling her how much he admired her, and after he’d basically insisted he was a good-for-nothing? Or had she chosen to sacrifice herself for Anthony? His flesh turned hot, then cold. She’d come here for Anthony in the first place, not him. No reason to think he was the main reason she’d choose to wed.
Kate stepped forward, hands behind her back. “You were right.”
He blinked. According to the men at the post office, that might be the first and last time he’d hear that from her.
“Nearly every time I’ve run, I didn’t ask God where He wanted me.”
He was almost too afraid to ask, despite her boots lying in the crate. “Do you know where He wants you now?”
“With you and Anthony.” She ran a bare toe across the barn’s dirt floor. “But I’m scared of the future, just like you.”
He’d probably scare her even more if he swallowed her up and kissed her like he had at the train station.
“But I still put my boots in there.” She pointed to the crate. “If you’ll risk marrying me, I can risk you disappointing me, if . . . well . . .” And all of a sudden she flushed bright red.
“If what?” He tilted her chin up until she dragged her gaze off her bare feet.
She blinked and swallowed, her heartbeat quick against his fingertips. “If our marrying could be more than a convenient solution to my predicament.”
Ah, so she cared for him more than he’d dared to hope. He ran his thumb over the blush high on her heated cheek, then brushed his lips against her warm cheekbone and whispered into her ear, “There’s no such thing as a convenient woman in my house.”
Her short and fast breathing feathered his neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about running away from so many—”
“Nothing to apologize for.” He placed a kiss against her jawline. “My reaction wasn’t your fault.”
She shuddered.
But that reaction was definitely his fault.
“And I’m sorry I pinned all my hope on you instead of trusting God.”
He waited for her eyes to open. “Absolutely no need to apologize to me for that.”
“Well then, I’m sorry—”
He stopped her with a feather-soft brush of his lips. Her eyes widened for a second, then slammed shut. He kissed her softly again, pulling her into an embrace, her body relaxed and weighty in his arms.
He broke away and took his time looking at each freckle sprinkled across her cheeks, her long eyelashes, the swirl of greens and gold in her soft, peace-filled eyes. He smiled. “Got anything else you don’t need to apologize for? I’d like to stop you again.”
“No. But maybe I’ll have to apologize for this.” She pushed up on her tiptoes and hit his lips hard. She wrapped her arms around his neck and moved her mouth against his with determination.
He groaned and kissed her like the ravenous man he was. Oh, how she felt good in his arms, the chemistry they’d had at the train station blooming sevenfold. She was his this time. His. He wrapped her up tight, then broke off for air and held her back a little. “No apology needed for that either, unless you have something against marrying me today.”
Her eyelids fluttered. “How did you refuse to marry me after kissing me like that in Breton and in the soddy?”
How had he, indeed? “I told you I don’t always make good decisions.”
She laced her fingers into his. “But you’ll try?”
Her warm hand in his felt even better than her kisses. He squeezed her fingers. “I’ll try. But what will you do when I do something stupid again?”
“Stick around and help you stop being stupid.”
“No running?” He tightened his grip.
“Maybe to cool off for a while, but not forever.” She wrapped her other hand around his arm and tried to pull him closer.
Oh, how he was tempted to sweep her up again. But they shouldn’t. “So what was your answer to marrying me today?”
She tiptoed up to kiss him.
He smiled against her lips, kissing her back a little but refusing to get entangled again. “I’ll take that as a yes, because if not, you’re going to get us in trouble.”
She went back down onto flat feet and sighed. “Today will have to be soon enough, I suppose.”
Not soon enough at all. He kissed her on the forehead. “Let’s pick up Anthony from school. He’ll be ecstatic. He’s been put out with me over you.”
“He’ll see soon enough he’s got no more reason to be.”
She hadn’t seen how grumpy Anthony had been lately. “Taking him out to ice cream would probably help.”
“Again? I thought you had no money.”
He started for the door, her hand still nicely tucked into his. “I know a pretty lady who happens to have a couple hundred dollars. I’m hoping she’ll part with one. I bet Anthony would agree she should.”
She laughed. “I’m sure he would.”
“But first, you need some boots.” He let go of her hand to pick up the crate she’d dropped inside the barn door.
“I thought you wanted me to give them up?”
“What would the townsfolk think if I let you walk down the aisle barefoot?” He forged out into the wind, threw the crate into his wagon, and charged toward his cabin.
When he came back outside, she was hanging over the wagon’s side, pulling the crate toward her, hair flying everywhere.
“What’re you doing?”
“You forgot I put my boots in there.” She stopped short and pulled hair away from her eyes. “What do you have?”
He held out the new pair he’d purchased for her. “Boots.”
Her lips turned up in delicious confusion. “Those aren’t particularly feminine. They look—”
“Good for running?” He handed them to her.
“Yes.” She smiled as she ran her hand along the polished leather. “What would you have done with these if I’d chosen not to marry you?”
“Put them on the mantel as a reminder not to judge anyone for their past—just as I don’t want to be judged for mine. But if you choose to stay, Anthony would never forgive me if you couldn’t race him anymore. He’s still convinced you can outrun me, even after watching me beat you to the buggy to save him.”
She straightened, plunking her fists on her hips, her skirts flailing wildly about her. “I could’ve beaten you if you didn’t have a head start.”
He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “Put them on, Kate. Let me chase you down.”
With her hand tucked inside Silas’s, Kate tried not to blush while fighting the urge
to slide across the wagon seat and snuggle into his side. Sitting in the school yard holding hands—not yet married—was probably too much already for any gossipers, even if Silas would make an excellent windbreak, and they’d arranged to get married after they picked up Anthony.
Why was she more nervous to recite vows in front of him today than when she’d first come?
She peered up at Silas, whose gaze roamed the school yard as the first class let out.
Did he notice how her hand trembled in his? Not from dread but anticipation.
More children poured out with hoots and hollers, and Silas squeezed her hand. “You ready?”
“For ice cream?” She licked her lips. “Can’t wait.”
He laughed and raised the back of her hand to his lips again for a quick kiss.
Oh, to slide closer and lean against him, especially with this wind whipping her hair about. She wiggled her toasty warm toes in her new wool socks and stiff boots—one place the cold wind’s icy fingers hadn’t penetrated.
She slid closer to Silas anyway. Did she really care about reputation over warmth right now? They would be married within the hour.
A little girl in pigtails and a blue pinafore skipped out of the door behind what appeared to be an older brother. Then the door shut.
After a minute, Silas frowned. “Wonder if Anthony’s talking to the teacher?”
“Has he mentioned having trouble with schoolwork?”
“He’s told you about Mrs. Owens, right? Maybe he’s in trouble.”
She nodded. “She doesn’t sound especially endearing.”
Silas’s hand tightened around hers with every child that left the yard and moved out of sight. “Too bad you aren’t still his teacher.”
She might not have been as tight-laced, but . . . “I don’t know if I was a good teacher or just kind, with so many children in one room with different abilities—”
“I’ll go in and get him.” He let go of her hand and jumped off the wagon.
A Bride at Last Page 27
