Twice a Bride (29 page)

Hattie swallowed hard. She agreed, but she trusted the Good—

Harlan captured her hand, jolting her thoughts and drawing her gaze. His blue eyes blazed with intensity. “Hattie, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife and mother to Cherise?”

Hattie leaned against the wooden slats on the swing. Yawning to clear her ears would be rude, but she couldn’t have heard him right. She pressed her teeth together in a discreet yawn.

“Please marry me, Hattie Adams.”

She hadn’t imagined it—he was actually proposing marriage. Whatever had gotten into him? He’d been in town only two weeks, and they hadn’t really spoken to one another for the first three days. Now he wanted to marry her?

She was very fond of Harlan Sinclair, and she admired him for wanting to raise Cherise as his own daughter. She worried the seam at her bodice. What he was really saying was that she should be
Cherise’s mother
, not necessarily his wife.

He cleared his throat and squeezed her hand.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, but this is all quite sudden, and I’ll need to think on it.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Harlan smoothed his neatly trimmed mustache. “Thank you. I should be grateful you’re at least willing to consider it.”

She wouldn’t have agreed to that much if she hadn’t already come to love him.

Willow stepped back to assess the images on the canvas. Holding up the photograph Trenton had taken of Mr. and Mrs. Johnstone, she compared the lines and tones to what she’d already painted. She was happy with the slope of Mrs. Johnstone’s forehead and the angle of her hazel eyes, but Mr. Johnstone’s bulbous nose was another story. Perhaps it was time she shifted her attention to sketching the deacon’s bench in the photograph. The change in focus might provide a fresh perspective.

Thinking about the bench, she remembered sitting in the church pew Sunday morning, hoping Trenton might appear. But she never saw him. His church attendance shouldn’t be her concern, but because of their affiliation as employer and employee, God might consider him her neighbor. It made perfect sense that she’d take an interest in his spiritual state. Why, she didn’t even know if he was a man of faith.

Tucker had spoken with him, invited him to church. But she couldn’t very well ask her brother about Trenton’s faith life. He might misunderstand her interest. She dipped a clean brush into the burnt sienna and painted feather strokes on the bench she’d sketched.

She didn’t need a pastor to make the inquiry for her. Tucker had recently exhorted the congregation to be bold in sharing their Christian beliefs. Given the right opportunity, she was perfectly capable of speaking to Trenton about such things. And if he didn’t appreciate such a personal discussion, what could he do about it?

He could fire her.

Willow’s spine stiffened, and the brush strayed into Mrs. Johnstone’s rust-colored skirt. Her employer might lecture her on keeping personal concerns personal, but surely he wouldn’t fire her. Would he? After all, her inquiry was for his eternal well-being. She couldn’t possibly imagine her life without her trust in God, her faith in Jesus Christ. She couldn’t bear to even consider the dire consequences of life without His help.

She set aside her brush and palette and walked to her bedside table. Her prayer journal lay beneath her Bible. Until the right opportunity presented itself, she could at least pray for Trenton, and there was no time better than the present.

Ida had walked to the icehouse with the list of the icebox deliveries for tomorrow. The trip had given her the opportunity to visit with Otis and catch up on each other’s family happenings. Now, as she returned to the showroom, she pulled her cape tight against the chilled air and glanced at the gray sky. All day she’d looked forward to seeing her new twin nieces on her way home from work. If she didn’t close the store soon, the impending snowfall would blanket her cape before she arrived at Vivian’s. All she had left to do was count the income for the day and ready it for deposit.

As she reached the showroom door, her father rounded the corner of the building alone. Cherise hadn’t started school yet. How had he managed to separate himself from her? “Father, it’s good to see you.”

He embraced her and opened the door. “Do you have time for your father?”

“Of course.” She shed her cape and hung it on the peg. “Is Cherise all right?”

“Yes. She’s at home with Hattie.” He fidgeted with his hat. “Baking, I believe.”

Something was obviously bothering him. “The three of you were going clothes shopping today.”

“We did.”

He obviously hadn’t come to discuss Cherise’s new school wardrobe. Was he here to ask her to take Cherise?

“Can we be seated?” he asked.

She nodded and walked to her desk. Father waited for her to sit, then seated himself across from her.

“You know about the job offer I received,” he said, “and that I plan to make my home here.”

She smiled. “Yes, and I’m very pleased. We all are.”

“Starting next week, after Cherise is in school, I’ll be a railroad inspector for the Cripple Creek District.”

“They’ll be fortunate to have you.”

He rubbed a scratch on the desktop. “Your Miss Hattie is a natural with children. And she’s obviously very fond of our family.”

Ida folded her hands on the desk and found his pensive gaze. “Father, does this visit concern Miss Hattie?”

“I asked her to marry me.”

Ida startled.

“You girls know Hattie and love her,” he said. “And so does Cherise.”

“What did she say?”

“She needs to think on it.”

“She’s only known you a short time.”

“But I feel like I met her two years ago in Nell’s letters.”

“You two didn’t even like each other the first few days.”

He smiled. “True. But that was a misunderstanding.”

Ida intercepted the grin tugging at her cheeks. Willow had told her about finding Hattie and Boney in the kitchen one evening and Hattie and Father in the kitchen the next morning, laughing over burned potatoes.

“We’re quite compatible,” Father said. “We both love my four daughters. And she’s very good with Cherise.”

“She is.” Miss Hattie had been able to put the child at ease in this new country and make her feel at home. That was why he wanted to marry her? “You want to keep Cherise and raise her yourself.”

He nodded. “I know I’m not a young man anymore, but is that so bad a desire?”

“No. Cherise obviously trusts you and loves you. And Miss Hattie.” Ida braced her chin, resting her elbows on the desk. “Did you propose to Hattie merely so she could be a mother to Cherise?”

He stood and brushed his graying hair back from his temples. “A mother for Cherise is part of the reason and why I don’t want to wait any longer than necessary to complete our family.”

“What about your feelings for Miss Hattie?” Ida laid her hand on her father’s arm. “She won’t marry for any reason but love.”

“Well then, I’m thankful she loves Cherise.” Father stood and turned toward the door. “I’ll just have to hope her affection for Cherise will be enough.”

F
riday morning Susanna pushed a pin into the stylish straw hat on her head. Wool was a more suitable choice for October, but straw was more durable for travel, and the wider brim offered additional protection should she find herself exposed to the sun during their occasional stops.

Occasional stops.

Her hands stilled. She looked at Helen, who sat on the bed, lacing her boots. “The West is a wilderness.”

“Uh-huh.” Helen peered at her, skepticism arching her eyebrows. “After that arduous train ride from the Mississippi, you’re just now figuring out why it’s called the Wild West?”

“The train had a necessary.”

Helen straightened into a sitting position, the cynicism disappearing from her face. “Oh. Dear.” A grin tugged at her lips.

Sitting at the dinner table with Walter Johnstone nine days ago, discussing his trip to Cripple Creek, Susanna had tossed social proprieties aside and given no thought to necessities when traveling alone with a man with whom she’d shared only one meal.

“Knowing you, you’ll manage just fine.” Helen squared her shoulders and swiveled them.

Susanna refused to acknowledge her friend’s mockery. “You’re right. I managed to get out of Kansas and make my way all the way to Colorado.”

Breathing past her concerns, Susanna resumed her task. She was no delicate flower afraid of a little wind. She could do this. Her plan was foolproof. By this time, Trenton had to be as lonely as a rooster in a rabbit hutch and no doubt plagued with second thoughts about leaving her.

“I’m going to miss you.” Helen pulled her boot laces tight. “After fifteen years of being around you, I’ve grown used to having you around.”

“I’ll miss you too.” Susanna meant it. Helen had been a good friend to her, but she needed more. She needed a bigger life. “Denver isn’t all that far from Cripple Creek. And you can look forward to coming to New York to visit me and Trenton.”

Helen tittered. “Possessing even a fraction of your confidence would be enough for me.” Susanna, satisfied her hat was secure, tucked the pin box into her satchel.

Helen tied the bootlace into a bow. “Trenton did leave you behind. What if, after all you’ve been through to get there, he’s not pleased to see you?”

“Don’t be silly. The photographer is the least of my worries.” Susanna added her journal to the bag, then glanced around the room to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. “I am, however, a bit nervous about spending the next few days cooped up in a carriage with the lawyer.”

Helen stood and smoothed her skirt. “Are you afraid he’ll bore you to death?”

“You were at the supper table. The man is anything but a riveting conversationalist.”

Helen faked a big yawn, patting her mouth. They both giggled.

The slap of horse hooves and wagon wheels on the rocky road in front of the house quieted them and set Susanna’s heart to racing.

Helen looked at the timepiece on her bedside table. “Mr. Johnstone may be sleep-inducing, but he is punctual—a minute past sunrise.”

Smiling, Susanna grabbed her satchel and followed her friend to the door. She’d surely miss Helen’s dry sense of humor, even her sarcasm.

Standing on the porch, Susanna blinked feverishly. She couldn’t say for sure what she’d expected Walter’s wagon to look like, but the one parked in front of Helen’s family’s house certainly wasn’t it. Two draft horses were harnessed to a long buckboard with a canvas stretched over hidden figures as uneven as elephants and field mice sandwiched together. Helen’s father and brother were already loading her trunk behind the rickety driver’s seat. Did Mr. Johnstone really expect her to travel on that?

“Good morning, Miss Woods,” the lawyer said, smiling at her from the driver’s seat.

She drew in a fortifying breath. “Mr. Johnstone.”

“I decided to make my trip do double duty and drive the wagon with some furniture for my folks. Triple, if I count transporting you too.”

Some women might like the way his dark hair swept back, plastered to his head. Susanna wasn’t one of them. And why hadn’t he shipped the furniture to his parents by rail or hired a freight wagon to haul it? She had a lot to say but thought better of speaking her mind. The road ahead of them would be long enough without any dissention. She needed him on her side.