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“It looks like you have your hands full. Can I help?” He gave her a congenial smile as he bent to retrieve her parasol.
She eyed the frilly fashion contraption. “Thank you, sir. But I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
Aaron could’ve walked away right then, but the vulnerable look he glimpsed in her emerald gaze and the almost forlorn way she toiled to keep hold of all of her stuff nailed his feet to the wide-plank platform. “I don’t mean to pry, but do you mind me asking who you’re waiting for?”
She gave the hem of her fancy off-white bodice a gentle tug as though setting herself right, but as far as Aaron could tell, not one hair or fiber lay out of place—city slicker, no doubt. By the bird-in-a-roomful-of-cats look about her, she’d likely not be around long. Although when his focus drifted to the sea of enormous trunks that surrounded her like servants to some fair maiden, he had to wonder. It’d take a lifetime and then some to wear that many garments.
He glanced around one more time, certain he must’ve missed a parcel or passenger, because this woman surely couldn’t have been who Paul had sent him after.
“I’m waiting for Mr. Thompson.” She cleared her throat. “Mr. Paul Thompson. Do you know him?”
Aaron flipped his gaze to the woman. “Yes, I do.”
He knew Paul almost as well as his own brothers. As sturdy on the outside as he was on the inside—Paul’s faith was unwavering.
Surely, there was something Aaron could’ve done to prevent the accident. Maybe if he’d been more attentive and noticed that the oak was splitting he could’ve warned Paul in time.
He pulled in a steadying breath. “Actually, Paul sent me to pick you up.”
Confusion crossed her face, and that same faint look of disappointment came once again, making him feel downright awful. “I see. Was Paul detained, then?”
“I’ll explain on the way out to his place. Why don’t I get your trunks loaded up in the rig?” He glanced at the trunks again as he wondered what relation this woman was to Paul. And more, how he was going to break the news to her about the accident. “My name’s Aaron Drake, by the way.” He held out his hand to her, but her arms were too full to exchange any kind of handshake. “Here, let me take that for you.”
“Thank you so much.” The slightest blush colored her cheeks as she handed her bag to him. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Drake.”
“If you don’t mind, Aaron is fine.” Realizing that the satchel handle had ripped, he tucked it beneath his arm. “We’re not much for pretense around here.”
She paused. “All right then, Aaron.”
“I’m a good friend of Paul’s—been friends for years. Are you a relative of his?”
He took in her features, looking for some similarity, but where Paul was hearty and stocky in his build, this woman was delicate and refined. Her fair skin seemed as if to glow where Paul’s skin showed the effects of countless hours of sunlight.
The hint of the smile he’d initially seen warmed her face. “I’m his bride-to-be.”
“His what?” he choked out.
This woman was as opposite to Paul as a mountain lion was to one of Ben’s pampered house cats. She seemed utterly unfit for the West. Was this some joke? Paul hadn’t said anything, not one thing about some fancy bride-to-be. Surely, he would’ve shared this small bit of information. He’d often talked of having a wife and family—someday—but he’d never indicated he was already halfway down the aisle.
“Did you say bride-to-be?”
The way her brow inched together just slightly in the minutest look of hurt gave him pause.
“We’re to be married today,” she answered, her voice soft and vulnerable as she trailed her slender fingers down her elaborate skirt.
“Today?” He swallowed hard.
“Just as soon as the minister is available—at least, that’s what Paul had written in his last letter.” She took her parasol from him and popped it open. “My name is Hope Gatlin.”
He struggled to hold his disbelief in check. It just wasn’t like Paul to keep such a monumental secret. “Nice to make your acquaint—”
Hope…
Hope?
Alarm shot down Aaron’s spine as Paul’s words galloped through his mind with the reckless speed of a wild stallion. Promise me you’ll hold on to Hope. Don’t ever let her go.
Aaron would never give his word on something he didn’t intend to fulfill. And he prided himself on wearing loyalty like a favorite shirt, but right now, taking in the gravity of it all… What had he promised?
Chapter Two
“Can you go any faster?” Hope queried yet again, the wagon creaking in protest. She could not remember one time in all of her twenty-two years when she’d begged for a quicker pace, but for the last mile since Aaron had broken the news to her about Paul’s accident, Hope had actually made the request three times.
Glancing over at Aaron, she fought to ignore the way her stomach still pitched from the last hairpin curve they’d lurched around. “Please?”
His blue eyes grew wide as he passed a glance from her parasol to her. “Ma’am, I’ll say it again. If I go any faster over these rutted roads, I run the risk of breaking the rig.” On a sigh, he turned onto a long path leading to a farm. “Besides, we’re here. This is Paul’s homestead.”
She stared ahead at the quaint farm, taking in every rustic nuance: the two-story clapboard house, the barn and chicken coop, the fields, the cows. Paul had described this place to her in his letters. He’d built everything from the ground up and had told her of how the barn had been erected in a day with the help of friends. He’d been slowly adding to the number of cows he had and was looking forward to purchasing more this spring.
Hope had marveled at his love for the land, but having been raised in a family of means in Boston, she didn’t know the first thing about farming. She’d told him that she didn’t mind hard work and would help out wherever she could, but Paul had insisted that she not dirty her pretty little hands. He’d been set on pampering her.
That sweet memory only added to the lump in her throat and the pain in her heart. She’d never imagined looking for love through the mail-order bride advertisements, but her friend had found love there. Hope had answered an ad strictly to relieve her family’s financial burden shortly after her father had lost his small fortune a year ago. With her mother insisting on keeping the house staff and with six girls at home, her father was working himself nearly to his grave, trying to manage, and this seemed the only way Hope could help.
Aaron brought the team to a stop and swung down to the ground. While he strode around to her side, she made a discreet attempt to follow him with her gaze. If the man would crack a smile on his stony face, he might be half-pleasant looking. She took in the scruff of beard on his face and his filthy clothes and couldn’t help wondering why his congenial demeanor had changed so abruptly back at the train station. His dirt-smudged face had gone ashen after she’d introduced herself, his already tense expression turning almost angry. For the life of her, Hope couldn’t figure out why.
She’d struggled to tamp down her extreme disappointment once she’d realized that Paul hadn’t mentioned her arrival to Aaron. Was Paul embarrassed by her, as Jonas had been after her family’s financial demise?
She’d been engaged to Jonas Hargrave, a longtime family friend, for two years. She’d loved the idea of marriage to a man who professed undying love. But right after her family had lost their means, she began glimpsing regret in his gaze, and as far as she was concerned, a marriage rooted in obligation would be no marriage at all.
Holding fast to her dignity, she’d eased him off the marriage hook.
He didn’t even flinch.
But then she’d met Paul. His letters had been so wonderful—almost too good to be true. He’d shown her the way to God. And her newfound faith had seemed almost too good to be true as well. The ten months she’d corresponded with Paul had been filled with hope and excitement and anticipation. She’d been certain that life would be wonderful. But now…
Paul had been seriously injured—that’s what Aaron had said. If they couldn’t get married today, that was perfectly acceptable to Hope. She could wait a day or two. She’d just do what she could to help him get better. Perhaps she’d apply cool cloths to his forehead or fluff his pillows every now and then or prepare some broth to help him keep up his strength.
“Ma’am.” The gentle sound of Aaron’s voice catapulted her to the present as he stood at her side. “I can’t help you get your feet on the ground if you don’t pry those hands loose.”
Hope looked at where she clutched her parasol and at where she’d curled white-gloved fingers in a death grip over the rough wood seat. She grappled for composure as she released her hold, her hands and arms aching from hanging on so tight. “I guess that perhaps the ride was a bit fast.”
He raised his brows over his steel-blue eyes as if to challenge her a bit fast estimation. When he stuck his hand out to help her down, she glimpsed a tremor of nervousness there. She felt a swell of compassion for the man, no matter how cold he’d been.
“Do you think Paul will feel up to having visitors?”
He no sooner got her feet on the ground than he released his hold as though her waist had been beaded with thorns. “My brother Ben is a doctor.” He started toward the house at a brisk pace. “He’s been here with him from the minute the accident happened, and he’s doing everything he can to make Paul comfortable.”
Clutching her reticule and parasol to her chest, she scrambled to catch up with Aaron, nearly tripping over the hem of her ivory brocade wedding dress. Wanting to be prepared for this momentous occasion, she’d changed out of her emerald-green taffeta dress at the train’s last stop before arriving in Boulder.
“Is he…is Paul in pain?” She almost ran into Aaron when he came to an abrupt halt at the yawning front porch that stretched across the front of the house.
His wary gaze passed over her like the dank fog that often permeated Boston Harbor. “Yes. Ben tried to give him laudanum earlier, but he wouldn’t have it. Said he wanted to be awake and aware of things until the—well, for as long as he could.”
She considered his words for a moment. Was he bracing her for the worst? Could Paul die—when she’d only just arrived? Surely, not.
Imagining her future husband lying in excruciating pain, she dabbed at tears crowding the corners of her eyes.
“I’m advising you to stay out of the house if you have a weak stomach,” he warned, his admonishing tone bordering on degrading. “Paul needs us to be strong.”
“Of course. Of course, I will,” she assured, but remembering how weak-kneed she’d been when her best friend’s little dog, Edward, had howled in pain after being kicked by a horse just last month, she wasn’t so sure.
“He’s a sturdy man, but a body can only take so much. And believe me…he’s endured more than any man I know.”
“He is strong, though. Very strong.” She remembered the reassuring way Paul had shared his faith with her in the letters. His words had been a lifeline, a fortress in the midst of a very difficult time. Surely, God wouldn’t let him die now, just as they were to marry. “I’ll do everything I can to help, but I’m sure he’ll be just fine.”
The door swung open in front of them at that moment, and a darker-haired version of Aaron stepped out onto the porch, his face grim and his eyes red-rimmed.
“He’s gone, isn’t he?” she heard Aaron ask, his voice low and strained.
The man nodded. Visibly swallowing, he blinked hard.
Hope’s knees went weak. Her head spun and her vision narrowed, but she willed herself to stay standing. She could barely take it all in.
Pulling her reticule closer, she strained to hold on to some hope. “Gone?”
Aaron pulled his mouth tight, battling to hold his raw emotion in check.
The slow finality in Ben’s nod sent Aaron’s heart to his stomach. “He passed away no more than five minutes ago.”
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, Ben,” was all he could force out as he peered up at where his brother stood on the porch. Had it not been for Mrs. Duncan waylaying him, maybe Aaron would’ve made it back sooner. And then there were the trunks he’d lugged to the wagon; that had taken a fair amount of time.
When he heard a small sniffle next to him, he turned to see Hope’s mouth drawn into a line. Her brow crimped. She held her reticule so tight to her chest that whatever she had stashed inside would be crushed.
“I’m sorry.” He set a hand on her shoulder to comfort her, feeling anything but natural in doing so.
Ever since she’d given her name, Hope, he’d been silently writhing in sheer panic. He’d tried to be congenial, and he’d worked at being caring when he’d told her about Paul a mile back, but all he could think about was the promise he’d made and what it meant—and how he was loyalty-bound to fulfill his words.
He’d promised to hold on to hope and not let her go.
But he didn’t know that hope was Hope.
He could pay her passage back to where she came from, though he couldn’t exactly make good on his promise to watch out for her from a distance, could he? But the idea of being anywhere near Hope threatened like a gun aimed directly at his vows to Ellie.
It might be easier if Hope was some dowdy spinster lucky to snag a strapping man like Paul. But Hope was nowhere near dowdy. She was beautiful…striking…elegant.
She was also a city slicker.
And that particular attribute was nothing like Ellie.
“It’s just all so sudden.” Her eyes grew moist, sending a trickle of compassion through him.
He braced himself for her to let loose a flood of tears, but instead she drew in a steadying breath, lifted her chin a little higher and ascended the steps.
Ben cleared his throat and motioned them inside. “You must be Hope,” he uttered as they preceded him into the house.
“Yes, I am.” Her voice shook slightly.
When Aaron spotted a few drops of blood that had splattered on the floor when they’d carried Paul inside, he pulled out his kerchief and hunkered down to rub them away. He wasn’t sure how Hope would respond and was intent on getting rid of the remnants before she screeched in fright.
“I’m Ben. Aaron’s oldest brother.” He closed the door behind them. “Paul just told us about you, Hope. He said you’d be coming.”
Paul had told Ben and Zach about her? Aaron angled a glance down the hallway to Paul’s room. He could hear the sheriff’s voice and Zach’s voice, too, and had to wonder what exactly Paul had said after Aaron had left for the station.
She moved into the room and set her bag and parasol at the door. She looked around her as if to get her bearings.
“Where is he now?” she asked, unpinning the matching velvet half of a hat she’d worn and sweeping it off her dark brown hair. Small tendrils wisped down to frame her face. “May I see him?”
Ben sliced a concern-filled look to Aaron.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Aaron finally responded. He and his brothers had done their best to clean Paul up, but all of the care in the world couldn’t reconstruct broken bones and reduce overt swelling. “He was in bad shape. I wouldn’t want your only view of him to be this way.”
She peered up at him with a stubborn tilt to her chin. “I’m sure I’ll be just fine. Besides, if this is the only way I’ll see him face-to-face, then that is what I shall do. It’s better than not having seen Paul at all.”
He caught the shadow of approval that crossed Ben’s face and couldn’t help but silently applaud her surprising show of strength.
“This way, then.” Ben led the way back to the room and motioned Zach and the sheriff out.
Aaron could hear Ben speaking to Hope in the doctorly tone of voice he reserved for grim moments like this. He braced himself for a loud wail or sob from the young woman but heard nothing—not even a sniffle.
And that was almost worse.
Once Ben exited the bedroom and closed the door behind him, Aaron let out a heavy sigh.
“What do we do now?” he whispered as Ben moved over to where Aaron stood with the sheriff and Zach. “I mean, Paul had planned on marrying her as soon as she arrived. We don’t know a thing about her.”
Ben crossed his arms at his chest and rubbed a hand over the late-afternoon scruff on his chin. “We do know that Paul cared for her deeply, however. Enough that he made arrangements with the sheriff here to have his bank account and land deeded to her name.”
“You can’t be serious,” he ground out.
“As serious as the river’s rise come spring, son,” the sheriff corrected.
“Was he in his right mind?” Aaron probed, feeling squeezed by the way he’d promised himself between a rock and a hard place.
“Yes, he was in his right mind.” The reproving look Ben gave pulled Aaron up short. “In fact, he made a stipulation that if, by summer’s end, Hope decides that staying here on the farm is too much, then she can sell. The money would be hers to keep and do with what she wanted.”
The sheriff sliced a breath through his sparse teeth. “Don’t know what her background is, but one way or t’other, as far as money’s concerned, she’s settin’ pretty now. Just as pretty as the lady is herself,” he added with a tactless chuckle.
“Sheriff, do you mind going into town to let folks know?” Ben ushered the man to the door. “That would help a great deal.”
