by Kit Morgan
“I never proposed,” he interrupted. “Though I certainly can.”
Honoria blinked a few times. “You can?”
“Yes, ma’am. And I suppose I should do this right.” He left the chair, dropped to one knee and took her hand. “We don’t know each other, but I promise I’ll treat you right. Marry me and you won’t want for food or shelter, just like I told you yesterday.”
Honoria froze for a second, her heart in her throat. “I understand.” He could provide and protect, but that didn’t mean he would love her. It was that particular item that had kept her awake most of the night, but if she didn’t expect it from him, she also didn’t have to worry about him expecting it from her. “I accept your proposal, Mr. Cooke.”
His eyes, intent on hers, softened. “Jefferson, ma’am.”
She smiled again. “Jefferson. And I’m Honoria.”
“Honoria,” he said softly, trying it out. “I like it. It’s different.”
“Indeed.” She suddenly realized he held both her hands now – she hadn’t noticed him taking the other one. “We’ll have to tell our boys …”
“Yes, we will. And if I may say so, you’re a might pretty woman, Honoria.”
Her eyes widened. “Th-thank you, Jefferson.” He wasn’t too bad looking himself, but she didn’t want to voice it. There was a quiet strength about him she hadn’t noticed until now. Perhaps she really had made the right decision.
He squeezed her hands, released them and stood. “I’d best go make arrangements.”
“Arrangements?”
“With the preacher, I mean.”
“Oh yes, of course.” She folded her hands in her lap nervously, doing her best not to stammer. “Do you want me to go with you?”
“If you want. You don’t have to.”
Honoria couldn’t think straight. She’d just told this near-stranger she’d marry him! Now what?
“Honoria?”
“Oh, so sorry,” she said with a forced smile. “I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed.”
“That makes two of us.” He put on his hat. “Maybe you should rest a while, let it sink in.”
She looked into his eyes, full of genuine concern, and it made her heart warm. At least he wasn’t a hard man, not like some she’d known over the years. “Thank you, Jefferson, I think I will.” She rose.
He took her hand and closed the distance between them. “Thank you.”
“For what?” she asked with raised eyebrows.
“For saying yes.”
She studied him a moment. “Did you think I would say no?”
“Frankly, ma’am, I did.” He glanced around the room. “I figured it was a coin flip.”
She smiled, more to herself than him. “Well, that’s a pretty fair chance, wouldn’t you say?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose.” He put a hand on her shoulder. It was large, warm and gave her an odd sense of comfort. “You rest now. I’ll see to the preacher and a time. When I have one, I’ll come fetch you.” He lowered his hand.
She fought the urge to put her own hand where his had been. “Fine.”
He slowly turned toward the door. “It’ll all be all right, Honoria. You’ll see.”
She stared at him a moment. What was he talking about? “I beg your pardon?”
“Us.” With a heartfelt smile, Jefferson Cooke turned and left.
Honoria watched him go, then fell into the nearest chair. “My goodness.” She fanned herself with one hand and took a deep breath.
“Mother?”
She turned to see Harrison standing in the kitchen doorway. “Come here, my darling.”
He came and sat in the chair next to hers. “Did you tell him?”
“Yes, my love, I did.” She smiled at her son. He was a handsome boy – all her sons were – but there was something different about Harrison that made her smile every time she looked at him.
“You’re going to marry, then.”
“Yes, Harrison.”
He sat and picked at the edge of his shirt sleeve. “Will I still be a Sayer?”
“Of course, darling. Why wouldn’t you be?”
“Because that man’s last name is Cooke. If you marry him, doesn’t that make Duncan, Colin and I Cookes also?”
A good question – she hadn’t thought of that, being too busy wondering what marriage to Jefferson Cooke would be like. “I’m not sure, darling. I think that’s up to you. Mr. Cooke could adopt you, I suppose …”
“No. Never.” Harrison said. “We don’t want …” He swallowed. “… we belong to Father.”
Honoria looked grateful. “I understand. And I’m sure Mr. Cooke doesn’t expect you to take his name. Not unless you want to.”
Harrison slumped in his chair. “That’s a relief. Shall I tell the others?”
“No, darling, I’ll tell your brothers. Where are they, anyway?”
“Duncan, Mr. Van Cleet and Mr. Dunnigan were going to organize our supplies. Duncan wants to load the wagon. He said we’re leaving day after tomorrow.”
Honoria’s throat closed, and she couldn’t speak for a moment. It was really happening. She was going to marry a stranger, cross two thousand miles of wilderness and settle in a new land. Oh, Benedict, what am I doing? She took a deep breath and stood. “Well then, you and I had best get a few things organized as well, hadn’t we?”
“Yes, Mother.” Harrison hopped out of the chair.
Honoria hugged her son, ruffled his hair, and together they left the parlor.
Later that afternoon …
Honoria stood next to Jefferson in a little church on the edge of town. Duncan, Colin and Harrison stood to one side, Jefferson’s sons Samuel and Jack to the other. Her sons looked solemn in their Sunday clothes with their hands clasped in front of them. Jefferson’s sons, on the other hand, glared at anything and everyone, clearly unhappy with their father’s decision to marry her.
Well, they were just going to have to get used to the idea. For all she knew her sons weren’t happy about it either – and why would they be? They didn’t know Jefferson any better than she did. Was he a simple man, she wondered, quiet and reserved as he appeared to be so far? Or was he hiding a mean persona, one that matched the looks on his son’s faces? Heaven help her if that was the case …
“Do you, Honoria Sayer, take this man, Jefferson Cooke, to be your lawfully wedded husband?” the minister asked.
Honoria jumped. Oh Lord help her!
Jefferson squeezed her hands. “Honoria?” he said with concern.
She looked at him, her mind and heart reeling. “Yes!” she blurted. “I do.”
Jefferson sighed in relief and half-smiled.
“And do you, Jefferson Cooke, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife …”
The minister droned on. Had Jefferson said, “I do”? Honoria found it difficult to focus, not to mention breathe. Oh no – she wasn’t going to faint, was she? She tried to take a few deep breaths for safety’s sake.
“Are you all right?” the minister asked.
She glanced at him, at Jefferson, at Duncan, Colin and Harrison. Duncan looked ready to rush to her side. “I … I … oh dear …” And down she went.
Jefferson reached as fast as lightning for his new wife. “Honoria!”
One of her sons, the oldest – well, the biggest – was suddenly at his side. “Mother!”
Jefferson cradled her in his arms and patted her face. “Honoria, wake up.”
Her eyes fluttered open. “Duncan?”
“I’m here, Mother, right here.”
Jefferson frowned. But of course she would call for her boy first – she didn’t know her new husband much better than some stranger off the street. “Can you stand?” he asked.
Her eyes made their way to his. “Jefferson.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She smiled. “Honoria will do. And yes, I can stand.”
He helped her to her feet, keeping hold of her in case she still felt faint. Ta
rnation, she wasn’t sick, was she? No, no, not that, not like Mary … “Are you sure you’re all right?”
She held onto his arm for support and put her other hand to her temple. “Yes, I’m fine. It’s the excitement …”
The preacher cleared his throat. “Well … if the lady’s fine, shall we continue?”
“With what? You just married us, didn’t you?” Jefferson asked.
“Almost. But you still have to kiss the bride.”
“Oh,” Jefferson said, his eyes gravitating to Honoria’s lips. He swallowed hard, reached up and cupped her face with one hand. “You sure you’re all right?”
She nodded, her eyes locking with his.
“All right.” He bent his head to hers and kissed her for the first time. A small tingle of excitement went up his spine. He hadn’t thought about a woman, let alone been with one, since Mary died, and she’d been sick a good three years before she passed. He’d wanted nothing more to do with the marriage bed after that. But here he was. Ain’t life strange? He pulled away, releasing her arm. “Mrs. Cooke?”
She blinked a few times. “Mr. Cooke?”
Jefferson smiled. “I think I like the sound of that.”
“And I’d like the sound of lunch, Pa,” Sam said. “Can we eat now?”
“Mind yourself, Sam – don’t be rude,” Jefferson said.
Sam rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Jack, let’s go find some grub.” He tugged on his brother’s jacket and started off.
“Stay where you are!” Jefferson barked.
Honoria jumped again, and her three sons each stepped toward them, warning in their eyes.
Jefferson quickly put an arm around her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. Uh, she’s all right, boys. No need to worry.”
“We’ll be the judge of that,” one of them – Colin? – said.
Sam snorted. “Sure ya will.”
“That’s enough, Sam,” Jefferson growled. He took Honoria’s hand and studied her face. He wouldn’t let his son’s rudeness dampen the moment. This woman was now his – they were married and he would spend the rest of his life with her. Please don’t let her be like Mary, he prayed without realizing it. No illness, no bad temper, no cutting words …
“Jefferson?” she prompted. “Perhaps we should have something to eat. I could do with a bite.”
“Oh – all right. There’s a café up the street.” He held her hand, ran a thumb over her soft knuckles.
Marrying her meant she’d just committed to a long journey. Would she survive? She was an Englishwoman, not born in America where survival was a daily concern for many people. He wasn’t offering her a posh lifestyle or a fancy house. She’d be sleeping outdoors for the next six months. Food might be scarce at times, wagons could break down, and the trail held all sorts of dangers: snakes, Indians, bad weather, rivers to forge. And Kinzey’s men, some of whom still had him on edge. Just because he’d married Honoria didn’t mean they wouldn’t try something on the trail.
“Do we have to eat with them?” Jack asked, tossing his head at Honoria’s boys.
“Yes,” Jefferson said. “We’re a family now. We’ll eat together like one.”
Sam narrowed his eyes at him, then at Duncan, Colin and Harrison. “I’ll eat elsewhere if it’s all the same to you.”
Jefferson let go of his wife’s hand, went to his son and grabbed him by the shoulder. “It’s not all the same to me. You’ll eat with us, boy, or you won’t eat at all. That understood?”
Sam stiffened, his eyes blazing, but he said, “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” Jefferson released him. “That goes for you too,” he told Jack. “We’re going to make this work. We have to if we want to survive.”
“Don’t take a woman and her three whelps to help us survive,” Sam sneered.
“Quiet, you,” Jefferson said. “You have no idea what’s ahead. Time you started thinking like a man.”
Sam got nose to nose with him. “I am a man.”
Jefferson had a good four inches and forty pounds on Sam, and knew he could whip his boy in a fight. But consarnit, he had better things to do on his wedding day. “Then act like it – starting with having a meal with the rest of us.”
Sam stiffened, but said nothing as he stepped back and stomped out of the church. Jack followed, as he always did, without a second glance.
“Where are they going?” Honoria’s youngest son asked. Harrison, that was it.
Jefferson turned to him. “The café – they’ll meet us there.” They’d better, or he would give them a wedding-day hiding. “Hungry?”
The three Sayer boys stared back in silence.
“Boys,” Honoria said. “He asked you a question.”
Duncan nodded. “Yes, Mother. Yes, sir, we are.” He tapped Colin on the sleeve, who then nudged Harrison. The three walked down the aisle and out the church doors.
“Well, that could’ve been worse,” Jefferson mused.
Honoria stared at him, her mouth half-open. Was she going to make some belittling remark? Mary would’ve, but she wasn’t Mary. He’d have to remind himself of that.
“Congratulations!” Jefferson looked up to see Cyrus Van Cleet and his wife walking up the aisle. “We passed the boys – sorry we missed the ceremony. Mr. Kinzey had details to discuss.”
“Yes, I imagine he’ll want to discuss a few with us,” Jefferson remarked.
“Thank you for coming anyway,” Honoria said.
Polly gave her a big hug. “I’m so happy for you.” She stepped back. “Where were the boys going?”
“To the café down the street,” Honoria said. “Jefferson’s sons were heading that way too.”
Cyrus and Polly exchanged a look. “We didn’t see them,” Cyrus said. “Only Duncan, Colin and Harrison.”
Jefferson frowned. If Jack and Sam had taken off somewhere, he’d make them regret it. So what if they were considered young men at eighteen and sixteen. They still didn’t behave like men – lately those two were more trouble than he could stand. He had half a mind to leave them behind, but the other half loved them too much to abandon them, just as he’d loved their ma too much to leave her side. Even though she’d treated him about as kindly as they did.
“They will join us, won’t they?” Honoria asked.
Jefferson smiled gently. His sons were his problem, not hers. “Yes, they will. And if they don’t, they’ll wish they had.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh dear. I dare say they’ll need time to get used to this. Don’t be too hard on them.”
“She’s right,” Cyrus agreed. “Your sons and Honoria’s will need time to adjust to each other. You can’t expect them to get along from the start.”
“Eh, I suppose not.” Jefferson looked at his new wife and sighed. “I’m sorry they ain’t making an effort.”
“Mine didn’t look happy either. But that’s to be expected.” She smiled at him. “Chin up, they’ll come around.”
He smiled back. “So will Jack and Sam, I hope. Likely Jack will warm up to you first.”
“Harrison will be the one to do the same with you.”
He took her hand again. “Your sons lost their father, mine their mother. Me, I figured it wouldn’t make much difference to my sons, not at their age. Boy, was I wrong.”
“Boys all want a mother and father,” Polly said. “Even young men.”
“Family’s the most important thing in the world to most of us,” Cyrus added. “Looks like the two of you will have to make yours into one.”
Jefferson nodded. “No easy task, from the looks of it.”
Honoria touched his arm. “Don’t worry. Between the two of us, we can help them get along.”
Jefferson took her hand from his arm and, before he could stop himself, kissed it. “Yes, I’m sure we can.”
“There, you see?” Cyrus said. “You two will make a great team.”
Jefferson smiled at his new bride and prayed the man was right.
Chapter Six
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br /> “… And this is Mrs. Dunnigan,” Cyrus said.
Honoria and her sons stared at the formidable-looking woman with brown hair, a bit of grey at the temples, and brown eyes. She stood with a rifle in her hands, glaring at them. “Wilfred!” she screeched, making them all jump.
“Tarnation, you don’t have to yell,” a middle-aged man said as he came around the wagon. “What is it, Irene?”
She scrunched up her face and narrowed her eyes at the Cookes. Without giving her husband even a glance, she tossed him the shotgun. “Where’s my hatchet?”
“You’re wearing it, you silly woman,” he replied as he caught it. “I declare, you’re getting more forgetful by the day.” He nodded at Honoria and her sons. “Howdy.” He then disappeared around the wagon.
Honoria gulped. Sure enough, Irene Dunnigan wore a hatchet on a belt at her waist, and looked mean enough to use it. Honoria hoped Colin didn’t annoy her too much. Of the three, he was the one most likely to cross the grouchy woman – and maybe lose a finger.
“Looks like you’re well stocked Mrs. Cooke,” Wilfred Dunnigan said as he returned without the firearm. “Let’s see … six hundred pounds of flour, a hundred twenty of cornmeal, four hundred of bacon, a hundred of sugar, two hundred of lard, sixty of coffee and five pounds of tea. That should do ya just fine – between all of this and Jefferson’s stores, you’ll make it.”
“Those are just the staples,” Mrs. Dunnigan pointed out. “If you need more, we have the extra supply wagon. Reasonable prices – I don’t cheat my customers.”
Honoria nodded – Cyrus had informed her that Mrs. Dunnigan didn’t miss a chance to make money, and a wagon train was no exception. “We also have rice and beans, some dried apples and peaches … I do believe we’ll get along.”
“You can buy from me just the same. Did you bring enough bran? Gotta pack the bacon in it you know – it gets hot, the fat’s gonna melt.”
“Yes, so we’ve been told,” Honoria replied.
Mrs. Dunnigan looked her up and down. “You don’t look the type to make this sort of journey.”
“Irene, don’t start,” Wilfred groaned.
