Rancher to the Rescue

by Barbara Phinney

  “Yes. I can even show your brothers how to care for him. They’ll need to learn to do chores anyway.”

  She bristled. “They have always had chores. This morning I had them sweeping and bringing in wood.”

  “I can teach them how to work around horses. My father might have owned a large manufacturing company, but we also had a dozen draft horses doing much of the work, like hauling goods and all the heavy lifting in the factory. Father hired men to care for them, and I learned stable duties and care from them.”

  Clare frowned. “You didn’t learn how to run his business?”

  Noah shifted back from her desk. “Yes, but every spare moment I had I was in the stables. Horses fascinated me. I learned how to coax the best work out of them. It’s not by the end of the whip, either. I can teach Tim and Leo the same thing. It’ll do them good to work in a stable.”

  She jumped to her feet. “Why? So you can ‘train ’em up good,’ like Mr. Burrows wants to do? I’ve lived here all my life and I know what he’s like!”

  At her loud words, Pooley turned around. Noah held up his hand. “I’m not Mr. Burrows. He just wants free labor. I want Tim and Leo to have a chance to learn some valuable skills. Learning how to control a big animal through love and care can help with their unruly natures. They’ll learn patience and personal discipline. I’ve seen the stablemen who worked for my father coax Percherons to do almost anything with just a soft, patient word.”

  With a remorseful expression, she sat down again. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to lose my brothers, that’s all.”

  Noah pressed his palms onto her desk and leaned forward. He was so close, she could smell the faint cologne she’d noticed on his handkerchief. “I’m sure someone at Anderson and Haley law firm will be able to help you keep custody of them. Go see them this morning. Then go to your bank appointment.”

  “And pile up more bills,” she muttered.

  “It can’t be helped. I expect you back to work at one. After work, you can fill me in on what happened, all right?”

  With a short, tight nod, she stood. As she walked past him, she stopped, her voice dropping to a mere whisper. “After we’re married, will I still get to work here?”

  She rolled her gaze upward until it bumped into his. She could hear the naysayers now. Taking a job from a man, taking food from some family’s mouths. Was she expected to stop work just because of a marital status?

  Noah looked grim. “This is not the time for that discussion. You have more urgent issues.”

  Clare sagged. “I’ll do my best to get this sorted out as quickly as possible.” She waited a moment, before adding, “I’m grateful I’ve been able to share this with you. Regardless of why any, um—” she glanced over at Mr. Pooley as her voice dropped “—marriage is formed, honesty is still paramount in it, don’t you think?” She offered a small, hopeful smile. “We’re off to a good start, and you’ve been noble to a fault. I appreciate that.” Before he could protest, she hastily shook her head and quickly retrieved her coat and hat before leaving.

  * * *

  Noah felt a chill race through him. Noble? Honest? He was neither, and neither virtue had prompted his proposal. Thinking of Elizabeth and of her humiliation, the humiliation he’d caused her, he recalled again how he’d agreed never to reveal the true circumstances surrounding their broken engagement.

  At the time, he’d believed it was the least he could have done for her. But back then, his faith in God had been weakened by an unchristian father who cared little for religion and who wanted only to line his pockets. Being in Proud Bend, listening to Pastor Wyseman’s excellent sermons and seeing the man’s resounding faith, Noah’s own faith had been bolstered.

  But now it faltered, tripping over the lie he’d allowed to stand for two years. And had yet to reveal to Clare.

  He could fix her situation with a proposal, but he wasn’t completely noble in his motivation, or in his inaction these past two years.

  The honesty upon which Clare thought their marriage was going to be based was nothing but a sham.

  And like Clare with her own situation, he had no idea how to fix it.

  Chapter Five

  It was at work, in the late afternoon of the next day, when the whole situation seemed to weigh the most heavily upon Clare. She’d thought she’d known all about getting married. After all, she’d helped several of her college friends prepare for their weddings, and she’d been a bridesmaid just a few weeks ago when her friend, Victoria, had married Mitch MacLeod.

  Victoria had asked both Clare and her cousin, Rachel Smith, to attend her. But since Rachel had married the sheriff’s brother just before last Christmas and moved to some town in Illinois, returning only for the wedding, the bulk of the preparations had been on Victoria and her aunt Louise.

  Clare had underestimated the number of forms to fill out. They should have been second nature to her, what with her job at the Recording Office, but she had found her hands shaking as she’d written her own name on several sheets attesting that she was indeed Clare Margaret Walsh, a spinster.

  Also, her heart had pounded like she’d run a mile when Pastor Wyseman met with her and Noah, and even more so when he’d met with her privately in his tiny office at the parsonage.

  “Are you being coerced into this marriage?”

  She gaped at the pastor. “I beg your pardon?”

  It was a question that Pastor Wyseman had felt morally obligated to ask, he explained.

  All Clare could do was shake her head mutely until he’d asked her to speak out her answer. Her voice cracked with nerves. “No, I’m not being coerced.”

  She was merely saving her family, she added only to herself.

  “And your parents, Clare?” the pastor asked. “Are they coming back for the wedding? I would have thought they’d be in Europe by now, but Noah has asked for the ceremony to happen as soon as possible. Why is that?”

  Clare swallowed. With eyes wide and body as still as stone, she found she couldn’t answer.

  Then, suddenly, she blurted the whole story. The events, including what Noah had said, that her parents might still be found alive—everything poured out from her like a torrent. She couldn’t stop a single word, even if she tried.

  Pastor Wyseman listened, his attention riveted to her. Then, after some quiet words of comfort, and one short reprimand admonishing her for not asking for his help earlier, he prayed.

  “It sounds to me like you’re still unsure of what to do,” Wyseman said after ending his prayer. “I won’t issue the bans, as is my custom, until you’re ready, Clare. Let me know before the service on Sunday.”

  Relief swept through her. Just giving voice to all the anguish made her feel better.

  Still, it would be best to have the ceremony as soon as possible. She wasn’t the sort of person to put off a task based solely on its level of unsavoriness. “The end of next week is fine.”

  He consulted the small calendar on his desk. “Friday, April 21?”

  She nodded. The truth settled into her. She would be married that day. Less than two weeks and she hadn’t told a soul. Precious few knew about her parents.

  Clare bit her lip. She didn’t really want anyone to learn her parents’ fate yet. She wanted to tell her brothers first, and she needed time to figure out what she would say.

  Besides, plenty of people in town would criticize her father for leaving his children in such a bind. She didn’t want to deal with them yet.

  Sitting in the pastor’s office, Clare had felt her stomach tighten and had wanted to cry all over again.

  Yesterday, Thursday, she’d finally had a sit-down appointment with the bank manager. Thankfully, he’d shown compassion and understanding, willing to wait another month to allow Clare to sort out her situation. Despite the relief she felt, she�
��d left the bank with a heavy heart. Even with a month’s grace, she had yet to solve her financial woes. Surely Noah could not afford to pay her mortgage, even if she was given to asking him.

  That same day, she’d spoken to the lawyer, told him of the events surrounding her parents’ disappearance. Although he could only meet with her briefly, he’d assured her he would file the appropriate documents to allow Clare to get full control of both the house and her brothers. He also agreed that being married would certainly help her case of keeping guardianship of her brothers should it come before a judge.

  That evening, after supper, Mrs. Wyseman had dropped by her home to offer both her congratulations and condolences, in the same breath and sentence. A mixed blessing, she had added. Clare’s marriage, her upcoming wedding, were apparently the blessings.

  And later that evening, after tucking the boys into their big bed, and after she had made sure they were clean, and had said their prayers, she leaned forward to kiss Tim on the forehead.

  “Why are you so sad, Clare?” he asked. “Do you miss Ma and Pa, too?”

  A lump threatened to choke her. She shut her eyes a moment, wondering if this was the time to tell them.

  No. They needed their rest. She still needed to figure out the right words, to soften the blow they would receive.

  “Yes,” she admitted honestly. “I miss them, too. Now, no talking or playing. We all need sleep, you know.”

  Tim frowned, then with a glance at his sleepy brother, he dropped the subject, nodded and rolled over. Clare sagged with gratitude.

  Now, this Friday afternoon, watching Mr. Pooley depart early for the day to look after his sick wife, Clare looked hollowly over to Noah. “Mrs. Wyseman dropped by after supper. How am I supposed to respond to both a congratulations and a condolence?”

  Noah shrugged. “With a thank-you. Say you wished your parents could be here for the wedding. It can’t be easy for anyone to offer both at the same time. I wouldn’t know which to say first.”

  “Condolences are never easy. I remember dropping by Rachel Smith’s house after we heard about her father. I was surprised to learn she and her mother had been ill. I was horrified to learn that Mr. Abernathy had tried to poison them. But still, Rachel had been strong and gracious enough to come down to the parlor to accept my condolences.”

  Rachel was about ten years older than Clare, and had been thought of as a dedicated spinster, devoting her time to her ministry of caring for the soiled doves in town. Her father had tried to acquire full ownership of the bank, at the same time his partner tried to do the same. Both men had ended up dead.

  Shortly after that, the sheriff had gone missing in what turned out to be an unrelated case. Not long after that, Rachel had met the sheriff’s twin. He’d come looking for his brother, and with Rachel’s help, had found him. And before long, Rachel had married the twin.

  Clare had noted that Rachel, although wealthy enough to not have to work, had continued her ministry after marrying.

  “If she can do that, so can you.”

  She looked at Noah. He was talking about how emotionally strong Rachel had been in the face of losing her father. But his words took on extra meaning. Rachel was strong enough to push for her independence. Clare could only hope she was, also.

  At that moment, the boys spilled into the office. Clare peered over the counter at them, thankful she was ending that conversation with Noah. He was right in the suggestion of just a simple thank-you, but did he really believe she was as strong as Rachel was?

  Brushing aside her questions, for she had no time for speculation, Clare smiled tightly at her brothers. They were here, and since word was sure to spread through town about her parents, she needed to tell them the truth, whether or not she was ready for it.

  Noah had glanced their way, then eyed her closely. “You’re going to tell them, aren’t you?” he asked quietly.

  Clare nodded. “Will you stay?”

  “Would you like me to tell them instead?”

  A knot tightened in her throat. Another noble act. As much as the offer was genuine and kind, she couldn’t accept it.

  “No, thank you. It needs to come from me.” She stood, smoothed down her skirt, cringing slightly at the faded part where she’d had to scrub away the ashes from the fire upstairs. A replacement skirt would have to wait, though. “Come here, boys. I need to talk to you.”

  * * *

  His heart pounding, Noah listened to Clare’s gentle words. Sunlight streamed in through the small window beside the door, catching tiny bits of dust as they danced in the rays. They looked almost jovial. Over the scents of the woodstove in the corner were the traditional smells of paper and ink, comforting odors to him usually. Clare sat the boys down on one of the wider chairs, both sharing it. She pulled another chair closer to them.

  She had asked him to stay as if he was some chivalrous guard who could protect her.

  He wasn’t. Yet, somehow, the idea of Clare doing something that would surely hurt her, gripped him. It wasn’t right for her to bear this burden alone. He should help.

  Before he could offer again, she took her brothers’ hands in hers. “You two know I love you very much, right?”

  They nodded mutely, with Leo turning his head up toward Noah as if to gauge his reaction. Then he looked back at Clare.

  “I will never leave you,” she continued. “I’ll always take care of you.”

  Again, they said nothing.

  “But Mother and Father aren’t coming back.”

  Her words had dropped to such a whisper, Noah strained to hear them. He wondered yet again if this was premature, but when would be the right time to announce such sad news? Would Tim and Leo understand there weren’t going to be any caskets? Would they understand what lost at sea meant?

  “Why aren’t they coming home?” Leo asked.

  “Their ship has gone missing. We don’t know where it is, but out there on the ocean is dangerous. It’s likely that the ship has sunk.” Her voice cracked. “I’m afraid that Mother and Father have died.”

  With that, she pulled them into a hard hug and they clung to each other for a long time. Noah watched helplessly, wondering if he should allow them some privacy. He could see Clare’s expression harden as she stared past her brothers’ heads.

  He knew her thoughts, how angry she was at her mother and father. He could feel his own resentment rising toward them once again. How could her father not have thought that they might not return? Noah knew that her father was always chasing the next dream, be it another job, or lately, a new cure. He loved to spend money, Noah had heard.

  And in doing so, he’d left his children to fend for themselves.

  Clare set her brothers back, but immediately, they reached for her again. This time, her embrace was a tender one; the younger one, Leo, climbed up onto her lap and clung to her.

  They cried. She cried. Noah felt tears sting his own eyes.

  “What are we going to do?” Tim asked.

  “We’re going to take care of each other. And Mr. Livingstone is going to help us.”

  Both boys peered up at him. “How?” Leo asked.

  Noah saw Clare swallow. “He’s going to marry me.”

  His eyebrows shot up. She hadn’t yet told them that they were getting married?

  “Why?” Leo asked.

  Clare stroked her youngest brother’s hair, trying unsuccessfully to tame the errant curls. “We’re going to live with him because we can’t afford to live in the house anymore.”

  “Why not?” Leo’s tearstained face pinched into a frown.

  “Because Father can’t pay the bills anymore.”

  “But you can,” Tim reasoned. “You work here.”

  “I don’t make enough money to pay the bank for the house.”

  “
Why does the bank want money for our house?” Leo asked in confusion.

  “They lent Father the money to buy it. One must always pay one’s debts. But my wages here aren’t enough.”

  After stealing a glance at Noah, Tim tilted his head to one side. “So why doesn’t Mr. Livingstone just give you more money?”

  The boy’s childish logic made for a good question, Noah thought. He did have some savings, maybe not enough to pay the rest of Clare’s mortgage, but enough to allow her to stay in her home with her brothers. Those savings, however, were earmarked for his ranch, to buy and care for rescued horses until the ranch could sustain itself. He couldn’t do that without his savings to start it all.

  Clare would not take a handout, anyway. If she only considered marriage as the final option, accepting cash from her supervisor wouldn’t even make it to the table.

  Meanwhile, Clare flushed. “He can’t. It’s not his job to decide how much money I get. Mr. Livingstone only runs the office. It’s the state of Colorado that decides my wages.” She shook her head. “That’s not for you two to worry about, anyway.”

  “Where are we going to live, then?” Tim asked, suspicion marring his features as he set himself away from her.

  “We’re going to live with Mr. Livingstone, at his ranch.”

  “Why can’t he move into our house?”

  “Because he has a ranch and it will soon have lots of animals,” Clare answered calmly. “He’ll need to take care of them.”

  “Like Mr. MacLeod’s cattle? Matthew MacLeod says his pa has hundreds of cattle.”

  Noah listened. The boys would know Matthew and his brothers, for they went to school with them. No doubt the boys were swapping stories.

  His ranch would never be like Mitch MacLeod’s. Moreover, with the ready-made family Noah was inheriting, he knew he wouldn’t have the funds to buy many animals, even if they were rescues. “No. Right now, besides my horse, I have only one pony,” he told the boys. “But I plan to get more horses. A ranch can have horses or sheep as well as cattle.”

  Neither boy said anything. They just stared at him, as if sizing him up. Finally, Leo turned back to his sister. “Clare, I don’t want to leave our house. I like it. I like our room, even with the burned floor.”