Four Weddings and a Kiss

by Margaret Brownley

  He’d be good at poker.

  “Perhaps you’d care to elaborate, Jack.”

  That was part of the reason he was here. The difficulty in elaborating. “I . . . I’ve come to care for Molly. But if I don’t intend to stay in Killdeer long, I don’t know that I have the right to care for her. What could I offer her?”

  “There are many kinds of adventures. Do you believe she has come to care for you too?”

  Jack thought of Molly the previous night, the way she’d felt in his arms as they danced, the rightness of his lips upon hers when they’d kissed. She hadn’t resisted. She’d welcomed him. So different from when he’d first come to town. “Yes, I think maybe she has.”

  “Then would it be fair of you to make this decision on your own? It concerns her as well.”

  Molly had been hurt by men in the past. Jack had met two of her former suitors—neither one worthy to polish her shoes—and he didn’t want to be like them in any way. He didn’t want to hurt her. If he didn’t mean to stay in Killdeer, he had no business encouraging her affections. But could he live in the same town and not want to be with her?

  The reverend returned to the pew and sat down. “I believe this might be a good time to pray and ask the good Lord for guidance.”

  Jack couldn’t have agreed more. Divine guidance was what he needed. Human reasoning sure hadn’t given him any answers, and all his heart had done was confuse him more and more.

  The Everton family and their guests—Isaac and Dinah Holbrook and their children—had barely started eating when Molly excused herself from the table and unobtrusively left the house through the back door. It would have been pointless to stay. She couldn’t have eaten a single bite. Not with her thoughts and stomach churning the way they had all day.

  It wasn’t until she saw Reverend Lynch closing and locking the church door that she realized how much she wished to speak to him, that if he hadn’t been at the church she would have gone to his home. She quickened her footsteps. “Reverend Lynch!”

  He turned and when he saw her, he smiled briefly. “Hello, Miss Everton. What brings you back this way?”

  “I . . . I was hoping I might talk to you about . . . about something.”

  There was that hint of a smile again before he turned and placed the key back in the lock. “Come inside.” Although the day had grown warm, the shadowed sanctuary felt somewhat cooler. The reverend led the way to the front pew and the two of them sat. He looked at her, his gaze filled with patience. “Now, tell me what’s troubling you.”

  “I’m feeling . . . confused, Reverend Lynch. So many things in my life don’t seem to make sense anymore.”

  “I see.”

  Did the reverend see? How could he when she didn’t understand it herself?

  “Go on.”

  “I was angry with Father when he didn’t make me the managing editor. I could have done it. I’m qualified. I went to college, and I’ve written for the paper almost from the day we arrived in Killdeer. I learned to typeset when I was very young just because I thought it was fun. I know about deadlines and advertising and production costs and good reporting. I couldn’t understand why Father hired a man he didn’t know over me, and I was determined not to like Mr. Ludgrove.” She lowered her gaze to her hands, folded in her lap, embarrassed to confess the rest. “I planned to make Mr. Ludgrove’s life so miserable he would leave Killdeer as quickly as he could.”

  “Well . . . I didn’t know that.”

  “Not very Christian of me, is it? I know I’m to love my enemy and do good to those who misuse me.”

  “Is Mr. Ludgrove your enemy?”

  Tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them away before looking up again, answering in a small voice, “No.”

  “Has he misused you?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”

  “As it turns out, he’s a fine editor. So much better than I expected, probably better at it than I would be. His suggestions have made my writing stronger, and he’s taken a great load off of Father’s shoulders. But he doesn’t plan to stay in Killdeer. He wants to explore the West. He wants something that he won’t find here.” She stopped and drew a breath, letting it out slowly. “Of course, when he goes, Father could make me the editor after all.”

  The reverend smiled slightly. “And that thought doesn’t make you as happy as you thought it would.”

  “No.” The tears welled up again.

  “And that’s why you feel confused.”

  Molly nodded, then shook her head, then nodded again. Finally she shrugged and said, “Reverend? Is it possible to . . . to love someone whom you haven’t known but a short while?”

  He was silent a long spell before answering. “Molly, if you were a girl of seventeen or eighteen, I would have a very different answer for you. But you are not a girl. You are a grown woman. You are an educated woman who knows her own mind. You know what you want in life, and you have the internal fortitude to hold your ground when you know that what you are doing is the right thing. I have seen this in you more than once over the past decade. So my answer is yes. Yes, I believe it is possible to love someone whom you haven’t known for long.”

  “Maybe I’m not confused. Maybe I’m afraid.” She lowered her gaze again. “Maybe I’m afraid Jack will break my heart and I’ll never recover.”

  “Without risk, there is no gain. Without struggle, we do not grow and change.”

  Did she dare risk her heart when she knew Jack didn’t plan to stay in Killdeer? “I thought I knew exactly what my life was going to be. I thought I could give my all to the causes I believe in. But now . . .” She let the words fade into silence.

  “Molly, the Bible tells us that the mind of man makes plans but God directs his steps. I believe what you need more than anything else is to understand God’s plan for you. As His children, we must remain willing to let go of the plans we make, even the ones made with the best of intentions, and embrace His plans for us. It’s an exciting way to live. Perhaps He has a great adventure in store for you too. Something unexpected. Something beyond your wildest imagination.”

  A great adventure. A glimmer of hope began to burn in Molly’s heart.

  The reverend offered another brief smile, then said, “Let’s pray about it, shall we?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ON MONDAY MORNING, JACK LEFT THE BOARDINGHOUSE and walked to the corner of Birch and Main Streets. Once there, he waited in the shade of a scraggly tree, hoping Molly would come into town later rather than riding with her father in the buggy. Relief washed through him when he saw Roland Everton alone in the buggy. He stepped forward, as if just arriving there.

  His employer drew in on the reins. “Good morning, Jack. Want to ride the last couple of blocks with me?”

  “No thanks. I . . . I have something to do before I come into the Sentinel. Hope that’s all right. Shouldn’t take me long.”

  “Of course it’s all right.” Roland slapped the reins against the horse’s backside and moved on.

  Jack waited a few moments, then stepped back into the shade and leaned a shoulder against the tree trunk. He didn’t mind waiting. Sometime during the night, peace had settled over him. A peace unlike anything he’d felt before. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the nudges of God, but this was something more than that.

  This morning, he realized, all his plans for the future had gone out the window. He had been holding on to a dream for close to thirty years. He’d been determined to see it come to pass, no matter how long he had to wait or what he had to give up. But this morning, he’d opened his hand and offered that dream up to God. Whatever happened in the next half hour or the next day or even the next year, he was going to trust the Lord to guide him through.

  As for Miss Molly Everton . . .

  He saw her then, walking toward town in that straight, no-nonsense manner of hers, wearing a white blouse and dark skirt and vest, head held high. No hat. She often went without
a hat, and even from where he stood, he could see strands of honey-brown hair had pulled free from the pins to dance around her face.

  He loved her. Pure and simple. He’d never loved a woman before. Hadn’t thought it mattered. It mattered now.

  Jack moved out of the shade of the tree and stood watching her. When she saw him, she faltered a step or two before quickly regaining her stride.

  When she was near enough, he said, “Good morning, Molly.” No Miss Everton for him today. And he didn’t care who heard him say it.

  “Good morning . . . Jack.”

  Her use of his given name made him feel lighter than air.

  She stopped a few feet away from him. “Were you waiting for Father?”

  “No.” He smiled. “I was waiting for you.”

  She didn’t smile in return. In fact, she looked suddenly worried. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, nothing’s wrong. I’d say something’s right. Very right.” He took a step closer to her.

  Her beautiful eyes widened.

  “Remember on Saturday when I said I probably shouldn’t have kissed you?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, I was wrong, Molly. Dead wrong. I’m glad I kissed you.”

  “You are?” The words were barely audible.

  He laughed. He couldn’t help it. She often made him want to laugh—and the rest of the time, she made him want to hold her in his arms. “I am,” he answered when he could.

  She mouthed the word, Why?

  “Because I’ve fallen in love with you, Molly Everton. Hook, line, and sinker.”

  “How can that be? We haven’t even known each other a month.”

  “I started loving you that very first night at dinner when you told me that noticing everything was a danger of your profession as well as mine.”

  She blushed, and Jack loved what the color did to her face.

  “And I knew it for sure when you challenged me to name the twelve Caesars at your father’s birthday gathering.”

  The rosiness in her cheeks deepened. “I was horrid to you.”

  “No, you weren’t. You couldn’t be horrid if you tried.”

  “I did try. I wanted to make you quit as editor and leave Killdeer.”

  “I suspected as much. But you still weren’t horrid.”

  “I’m sorry all the same.”

  “Don’t be sorry, Molly. I never want to make you feel sorry.” He cupped the side of her face with his right hand. “All I want is for you to agree to marry me.”

  Molly couldn’t seem to draw a breath.

  Reverend Lynch’s voice echoed in her memory: “Perhaps He has a great adventure in store for you too. Something unexpected. Something beyond your wildest imagination.”

  “Say yes, Molly,” Jack whispered.

  “Are you sure? You might regret—”

  “I’m sure. Maybe it’s crazy, but I’m more sure about this than I’ve been about anything before in my life.”

  She didn’t want to cry, but she wasn’t sure she could keep from it. “Then, yes.”

  “Do you think you could grow to love me too?”

  “Jack Ludgrove, for someone who claims to notice everything, you should know the answer to that question.”

  He grinned. “Tell me anyway.”

  Was it possible for a heart to burst in one’s chest from sheer joy? “I love you, Jack.”

  He laughed again. Oh my. How she loved the sound of his laughter.

  “Perhaps we should go talk to Father now,” she said, smiling back at him.

  “In a minute.” Then he pulled her into his embrace and kissed her.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Yellowstone National Park, September 1881

  THE SMELL OF COFFEE DRIFTED THROUGH THE CANVAS tent and tickled Molly’s nose. She tried to ignore it. She wasn’t ready to wake up yet. She wanted to stay snuggled beneath the blankets until the sun had baked away the chill of night.

  “You don’t fool me, sleepyhead,” Jack said.

  She groaned but opened her eyes. Her husband looked at her through the open flap, a steaming mug in one hand.

  “We need to get an early start. A lot of ground to cover today.”

  Molly sat up and shoved her heavy mane of hair back from her face. Sleeping in a cap would keep it from getting so tangled, but Jack liked her to leave it down and loose at night. And Molly loved to please him.

  He handed her the mug of coffee. “Happy anniversary, darling.” He knelt beside her and kissed her, being careful not to jiggle the hot beverage in her hand.

  “You remembered,” she said when he leaned back from her. “I thought you might forget after all of these weeks on the trail.”

  “It’ll never happen, Molly. The day you became my wife is the most memorable day of my life. I may forget every other day of the year, but never this one.”

  “Are you sorry we are on our way back to Killdeer? I know you’ve loved these last ten weeks, seeing all the things we’ve seen. Killdeer is going to feel quiet and uneventful in comparison.”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m not sorry. It’s time. Winter will arrive in a matter of weeks. We’ll want to be home again before that.”

  Home. Molly released a breath she hadn’t known she held. She was so glad he thought of it as home.

  His eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask?”

  She’d meant to keep her secret until they made camp this evening, but Jack knew her too well. He would never let it rest, now that his suspicions were raised.

  “Out with it, Molly.” He leaned close again, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Tell me.”

  She touched his lips with her fingertips. “Was this trip the adventure you hoped it would be? Was it everything you imagined when you were a boy?”

  “Better.” He took the mug from her hand and set it aside, then he pulled her back down onto the bedding and drew her close. “I can’t imagine seeing all that we’ve seen without you at my side. It wouldn’t mean much alone. I know that now.”

  “And you won’t mind not going off on another trip like this for a while?”

  “No. I won’t mind. Not as long as I’m with you. Besides, you and I have a newspaper to run. Time we got back to it.”

  “Oh. The newspaper. About that. I might not be as much help as you need.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m the dispensable one. You could run that paper with your hands tied behind your back.”

  Fighting a smile, she shook her head. “You’re wrong this time, my dear. I won’t have much time to write a weekly column.”

  Jack pulled back so he could look her more fully in the face. A frown pinched his eyebrows together. “Not have time to write? What do you mean?”

  Laughter bubbled up from Molly’s chest. When she was able, she said, “Can you really not guess, Jack Ludgrove? After all of these weeks of keeping each other warm in our bedroll?”

  Confusion remained in his eyes several heartbeats longer.

  Softly she quoted from The Winter’s Tale, “He makes a July’s day short as December.”

  Understanding dawned and it spread across Jack’s face. “A baby? Molly, are you going to have a baby? Are you sure? Do you—” He broke off abruptly, pulled her close, and kissed her once again. When the kiss ended, Jack withdrew no more than a breath away. “When?”

  “I can’t be positive, but I think April.”

  Jack pulled the covers over them both and went right on holding her close. “Know what, Molly? I think I’ve finally learned what Reverend Lynch was saying to each of us back before I asked you to marry me. We can have all kinds of dreams. We can imagine all kinds of adventures. We can even experience some of them. But nothing will ever be as amazing as the life God has in mind for us, if we’ll just follow His lead.”

  Fleetingly, Molly remembered the day she’d stormed into her father’s office in a rage because Jack Ludgrove was coming to Killdeer. Now she couldn’t imagine herself without him.

/>   But then he kissed her again, more deeply this time, and all rational thought seemed to flee.

  They wouldn’t break camp quite as early as Jack had intended.

  Dear Editor:

  What a wonderful thing it is when a woman or a man releases what they are holding on to so tightly so they can take hold of something better. So they can take hold of what God wants them to have. My mother told me once that love can be a great adventure. Never has she been so right as she was about that.

  William Shakespeare wrote in one of his sonnets, “Love comforteth like sunshine after rain . . . Love’s gentle spring doth always fresh remain.”

  How right he was.

  Sincerely,

  Contented in Wyoming

  A Cowboy for Katie

  Debra Clopton

  CHAPTER ONE

  Midway, Texas, 1871

  SHE MIGHT BE AS CRAZY AS THEY SAID, BUT KATIE Pearl had learned that most men were light between the ears. She wondered which one of them she was gonna have to shoot today.

  It wasn’t as if she wanted to, but if they came snoopin’ around, she was willin’ to oblige them.

  “There ain’t no sense pretending you like this, Katie Pearl, no sense at all,” Katie told herself. From her perch on the wagon seat, she could see the dusty buildings of town. And as Myrtle May pulled the wagon ’round the bend in the road, Katie’s insides tensed up.

  “You’re a good horse, Myrtle May. Yes you are.” She was glad to have the comfort of her old horse with her as the fire in the pit of her stomach informed her trouble was near.

  Town was trouble and there was no getting around it.

  Most folks in town crossed the street and walked on the other side these days when they saw her. At least if they were smart they did.

  Especially if it was any of them sodbusters who’d recently come callin’ for her hand in marriage. “No siree, Katie Pearl,” she spoke aloud again, her words reassuring to her. “Them sorry no-goods have seen your fingers itchin’ on the pearl handles of your Colt, and some have seen the end of the barrel pointing at them too.” It was true, fools. “You don’t take kindly to none of the hogwash they’ve been trying to sell you.”