Love Inspired Historical July 2015 Box Set: The Marriage Agreement\Cowgirl for Keeps\The Lawman's Redemption\Captive on the High Seas (40 page)

He paused and surveyed the crowd. “We aren't a perfect nation. We aren't a perfect community. But let us strive to continue the work of our Founding Fathers that we may work toward a better life for all.” He beckoned to Mrs. Winsted, who stood among the people behind him on the bandstand. “And let us never forget the words of our Declaration of Independence.”

With that, he took his seat. Mrs. Winsted moved into his place and unrolled a large scroll.

“CONGRESS, July 4, 1776. The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America. When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another...”

Rosamond looked up at Garrick, whose rapt gaze was focused on Mrs. Winsted. Had he ever heard these words? Did he know how countless men and women had suffered and died to turn the thirteen colonies into the United States of America? Rosamond knew at once that she must pray for him to grasp that understanding in a way that would change his life...and maybe hers.

* * *

From the moment Mrs. Winsted began to speak, everything and everyone in the churchyard seemed to disappear, and Garrick could hear only the words that had separated forever this country from his own. The lady didn't read for long, soon giving place to Bert, the former slave who worked as a blacksmith and farrier at Four Stones Ranch.

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

A chill shot down Garrick's spine. What a remarkable thing, having this man, this former slave, recite this particular part of the document. Even more remarkable was the reverent silence in the churchyard. Not even a baby cried.

Mr. Chen took the next turn, reading about governments among men. Like Bert, he wasn't the typical settler here in Esperanza. Had he fled from some sort of oppression in China's vast empire? At Oxford, Garrick had only briefly read about the Asian continent.

Rafael Trujillo, owner of a large ranch north of town, spoke next, listing many complaints against the Crown. Did this man harbor complaints against those who had driven most of the Mexicans out of this area due to the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo? One evening before he moved into town, Garrick had read that bit of history in Colonel Northam's library.

Others whom Garrick hadn't met read a paragraph or two of the document. Finally, Nate Northam summed up the well-reasoned argument against the “tyranny” of King George III, citing the authority of the men who now dissolved all former ties with England to declare their colonies to be free and independent
states
.

“And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.”

Another chill raced down Garrick's spine. The American colonists had risked everything for their freedom. He could only aspire to that sort of courage.

Mayor Jones made a few more remarks about never forgetting and other thoughts about how the community could honor their past. Garrick tried to gather his thoughts before speaking to Rosamond. From the changing pressure of her arm around his, he knew the document was important to her, but he'd been too engrossed in the reading to look her way.

Across the yard, Garrick noticed Roberts standing beside the little cook, Rita. To his dismay, Roberts's face bore a bright glow about it, as though he'd just discovered some life-altering truth. Would he make this Declaration his own? For a moment, Garrick felt a bit like King George, angry that someone who served at his convenience now might want the freedom to do as he chose.

But then, why would this loss be any different from the many others in Garrick's life? Of course, he couldn't force his valet to remain in his employ. Only he, Garrick, was a slave to his duty, to his lack of fortune, and he wouldn't easily be able to break his chains, metaphorical though they might be.

Chapter Eleven

“S
hall we visit the booths?” Rosamond sensed Garrick had much to think about, if his pensive expression was any indication, so she wouldn't press him. He seemed content to be with her, however. A relaxing stroll among the shaded stalls where local craftsmen sold their wares might be just the thing to help him.

“If that would please you.” He smiled, and her heart skipped, as usual.

Father always tried to please Mother, and Rosamond had always hoped for a husband who'd consider her preferences. That was before her call to become a teacher had made marriage an impossibility. Or, at the least, too impractical.

“There's Bert.” She led Garrick to the table under a canvas awning. “Bert, have you met Mr. Wakefield?”

“Yes, ma'am.” The burly man gave Garrick a friendly nod. “We miss you at Four Stones, Mr. Wakefield. But with Pete gone—”

“Hello, Bert,” Garrick interrupted him and stuck out his hand. “No, we haven't heard from Pete and Mr. Morrow. I'm hoping to any day.”

Bert blinked and paused before reaching out to shake Garrick's hand. “Ah. Yes. Sure. It'll take some time to find that man. I've added my prayers to the effort.”

Rosamond couldn't guess what had just passed between the two men. Maybe Garrick had spent some time in the blacksmith shop. But when?

“Very good.” Garrick looked down at the table, which was covered with spurs, knives, belt buckles, silver-and-turquoise items, all etched with varied designs. “Did you make all of these?”

“Yessir.” Bert grinned proudly. “Keeping the horses shod don't take all my time, so I get to do some fancy work.”

“Bert made Father's spurs,” Rosamond said. “Did you notice them?”

“I did. They are exquisite.” Garrick picked up a small oval silver tray etched with floral designs. “As is this. What's its purpose?”

Bert's eyes lit up. “Well, sir, the ladies like 'em for their vanities to put rings and ribbons and other gewgaws in.”

“Ah, very good.” Garrick took a brown wallet from inside his coat. “I must purchase it for my sister.”

Rosamond's heart warmed. She knew very little about his sister, but such devotion could only be admired.

“How pretty.” Garrick held up a silver-and-turquoise comb with long teeth for holding an upswept hairdo in place. “Would it be improper for me to give you such a gift?”

At Bert's hopeful look, Rosamond shook her head. “Not improper at all. After all, we're colleagues. It's merely a friendship gift.” Wasn't it? “And of course you must let me buy something for you.” She studied Bert's display and decided on a braided black leather bolo tie with silver tips, not as ornate as Father's, but still quite fine. With great ceremony, she buttoned his open shirt, strung the tie around his neck and secured the silver and turquoise slide in place. “What do you think?”

“I like it.” He fingered the silver tips and chuckled. “You needn't give me anything.” Then his lips quirked into a cute little grin. “But you may.”

They completed their purchases, and Rosamond directed Garrick to another table where Mrs. Starling displayed newly sewn shirts, aprons, kerchiefs and other items. “Can I help you folks?” Dark circles under her eyes gave evidence of late-night work. Rearing three children alone must be difficult, all the time worrying about what had happened to her husband. The two younger children played with blocks on the grass behind their mother.

“Yes, indeed.” Garrick looked to Rosamond. “You must help me select a new shirt. I've become quite fond of these American styles.”

“Very well.” She looked over the dozen or so shirts. “Mrs. Starling, I can't imagine how you had time to make these with all the sewing for the hotel.”

The woman gave her a weary smile. “Mrs. Beal's been very kind to let me use her Singer in the evenings. It's a grand invention and makes sewing a pleasure.”

“And such nice even stitches, too.” Rosamond selected a solid burgundy shirt. “Let's see if this fits.” She instructed Garrick to turn around so she could hold up the garment to check for a good fit. “Perfect through the back. Mrs. Starling, can you let down the sleeves an inch?”

“Yes, ma'am.” The woman's eyes were bright. “I'll have that for you by dinnertime.” Other people now gathered around to admire her work.

Although Rosamond never liked to use the Northam name for selfish purposes, perhaps this was an appropriate way to influence other people. She made a show of holding the shirt up to Garrick's chest. “Do you like it?”

“Very much,” he said. “And I'd like two of those neckerchiefs as well.” He selected a green and a red.

“Um, no.” Rosamond took them from him and set them back on the table. Several people nearby laughed. “Now I know why you need a valet.” She matched the burgundy shirt to a paisley kerchief woven with similar colors and then selected another to match the shirt he was wearing. “There. Looks good. Don't ever select your own clothes without help, understand?”

The crowd clearly enjoyed this interchange, for several added their own humorous comments about men choosing their own clothes.

“Yes, ma'am.” Garrick laughed, and Rosamond enjoyed the pleasing sound—a sound she could get used to hearing.

He paid Mrs. Starling three dollars, although the woman protested it was too much. “Never mind. I'm sure I don't pay Adam enough for taking care of Gypsy.”

They left their purchases with Mrs. Starling to pick up at dinnertime and continued their stroll just as the handbell rang again.

Mrs. Winsted called out, “Egg race!”

“Egg race?” Garrick laughed again. “And that is—?”

Rosamond sighed. She'd forgotten about this event, one she'd taken part in only one time before going to Boston. If they didn't go to the race course, maybe she could avoid being trapped into running. “All of the unmarried girls carry an egg on a wooden spoon and race to the finish line.”

“Cooked eggs?” The amused look in his eyes showed he knew the answer.

“Where would the sport be in that?”

“Well, come along, then.” He nudged her toward the field. “We mustn't let someone else win the ribbon.”

“Oh, no. Don't make me do this.” She'd brought a change of clothes but hoped her pink dress would last longer than this. The last time, her egg had broken all over her skirt before she'd run halfway down the raceway. “My students mustn't see their teacher behaving in such an undignified manner.”

She turned in the opposite direction, but his firm grip on her elbow told her he had no intention of letting her escape.

* * *

“Nonsense, Rosamond. Your students will be delighted to see you're a good sport.” Garrick had no idea why this whole idea amused him. Perhaps it was the gaiety surrounding them. Perhaps the merry mood in his own heart after choosing a shirt with this delightful lady's assistance. “After all, as a Northam, you must set the example of sportsmanship.”

How often had his governess told him that very thing?
You will one day be Lord Westbourne, therefore you must set the example.
Even after losing his expectations, he still believed in doing the right thing in all matters big and small. One never knew who was watching and who might emulate his actions. “If I must ride in the horse race, you surely can make a go of this little contest.”

“You're riding? Oh, Garrick, I'm so proud of you. Let's go see to Gypsy right now. I think the horse race is the next event.”

“Don't change the subject.” Garrick held her as gently as possible without letting her escape, and they continued toward the field. “What prize does the winner of this race receive?”

“A blue ribbon and china bowl for her hope chest.” She ceased her struggles and walked calmly beside him. “And the right to kiss the man of her choice. On the cheek, of course.”

“A kiss!” Garrick stopped, still holding her arm. “Well, perhaps—” If she won, whom would she choose? He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to that question.

She gave him a saucy smile. “All right, then. You've convinced me. I'm sure Nolan Means—he's the banker, you know—would like for me to win. Shall we proceed?”

She broke away and marched in the most ladylike way toward the starting line, where some twelve or so girls lined up, including the two younger Eberly daughters. Beryl was passing out spoons, and her sister Grace was placing a large brown egg on each one. No doubt Beryl didn't enter because Percy wasn't there to kiss—a fortuitous situation to Garrick's way of thinking. Perhaps Grace considered the race too undignified for a deputy sheriff.

As with the children's events, Grace fired her Colt .45 to start the race. Cheers erupted from the crowd, along with cries of encouragement. From his place on the sidelines, Garrick had a good view of the proceedings, and he cheered Rosamond on. Several girls started too quickly and lost their eggs straightaway or tripped and fell. Yolks and whites splattered down blouses, aprons or skirts. He'd feel quite the cad if Rosamond ruined her lovely pink dress. Too late to purchase one of Mrs. Starling's aprons. Too late to tell her she needn't race to please him. But her determined expression as she glided down the course gave evidence that she was thoroughly enjoying the competition.

To his surprise and delight, she won, stepping across the chalked finish line a half step in front of Laurie Eberly. The crowd cheered even louder while the rest of the girls completed the course.

Rosamond carefully lifted her egg from the spoon and carried it back to the starting line, where one of the judges cracked it into a bowl to prove her an honest winner. Garrick made his way over to congratulate her but couldn't reach her for the cheering crowd. The ribbons were distributed, and the third place winner planted an enthusiastic kiss on her beau's lips. Laurie accepted the second place award and then looked around as if searching for someone. She shrugged and gave her father a kiss on the cheek.

Rosamond looked around the crowd. Garrick's heart stuttered. If only he'd planned this better and not insisted she enter the race. Nolan Means stood close by her, his young sister having participated in the event. For all of his banker's dignity, he looked at Rosamond rather longingly. Or perhaps Garrick was merely seeing his own longing in the other man's eyes. Still, if she kissed Nolan, Garrick would have all the more reason for stifling his attraction to her. Which, of course, would continue to be quite impossible.

“Hurry up and kiss somebody, Rosamond,” Grace Eberly called out. “We got a horse race to run.”

Her emerald eyes bright, her ivory cheeks flaming, Rosamond stared across the crowd, straight at Garrick. His pulse pounded in his ears. Would she kiss him? Was it even proper for him to let her? Certainly not in England, but these Americans held a different and interesting view of such things.

Rosamond essentially shoved her way through the mob, placed her hands on his cheeks, stood on tiptoes and—to his shock—planted a warm kiss on his lips. She stood back briefly and then kissed him again. Before he realized what he was doing, his arms went around her waist, and he answered in kind, kissing her in a way he'd never dared to dream of. Somewhere in the distance, he heard laughter and cheers and many foolish remarks. But all he could truly know was that this was right, this was good and he loved Rosamond Northam with all of his heart.

She broke from him gently and whispered, “The first kiss was for my race. The second was my best wishes for yours.”

“Thank you.” For the kiss. For the good wishes. For simply being her wonderful self.

He raised his head and looked beyond her. There stood Tolley, hatred burning in his eyes, a shocking yet predictable reminder of one of the reasons why Garrick could never pursue a further relationship with the beautiful lady in his arms.

* * *

Rosamond felt Garrick's embrace tighten and then suddenly go slack. Hadn't he enjoyed being kissed? She certainly had. Yes, she could tell he'd liked it from the surprise and delight on his face between the two kisses
and
his enthusiastic response to the second one. What had changed? She released him and glanced over her shoulder but saw nothing to explain why his mood had shifted. Tolley was making his way through the crowd toward the horses, so he couldn't be the cause of Garrick's change.

“I'm sorry.” She stepped back from him. “So much for the teacher and her dignity.”

He gave her a rueful smile. “Don't be sorry. Please.” A frown darted across his forehead. “I'm quite pleased that you chose me, though I think your banker friend is a bit disappointed.” He added a laugh that seemed forced, not at all like his carefree laughter before her race. “Well, I suppose I should see to Gypsy. Your father tells me she'll give the other horses some healthy competition. Now let's hope I can be the jockey she deserves.”

Always the gentleman, he offered his arm. When Rosamond looped hers around it, a pleasing warmth spread through her that was becoming all too familiar—the warmth of belonging, caring, perhaps even loving. Oh, that maverick heart of hers. How would she manage to tame it?

She could feel Garrick's tension in the corded muscles of his arm as they walked toward the starting line under the Independence Day banner strung across Main Street. Was he merely eager to compete, as many of the men were? Or was something else bothering him?

“Here we are.” Garrick met Adam at the starting line and took Gypsy's reins in hand. “Hello, my girl.” He ran a hand over the mare's head and received a nudge in return. “Rosamond, you've already given me a token of your best wishes, but I'd welcome your prayers as well.”

She tilted her head and gave him a teasing grin. “Now, now, Mr. Wakefield, you're an excellent rider. Have no fear.”

He returned a gentle smile that didn't reflect in his eyes. “You're kind to say so.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and then swung into the saddle. “By the by, would you kindly keep my hat?” He handed it down to her. “Roberts won't be at all pleased if it's ruined.”