Bartered Bride Romance Collection (16 page)

Never, in all of her years, had she felt so self-conscious or nervous. Not once in all of her lessons regarding etiquette and comportment had she been taught how to handle such an embarrassing catastrophe. Everything inside her quivered. She knew from the virulent heat of her cheeks that she had to be utterly, completely, unmistakable scarlet.

How could I have let this happen?

Ethan’s forehead furrowed, and he studied her for a moment. “If you can wait just a jiffy, I’ll see to the kids.”

“I–I’ve already asked Banner to keep them for nooning.”

His brow rose in surprise. “Very well,
Miss Davis
. What can I do for you?”

She hastily looked around and knew every eye was on her. On
them
. She pulled in a choppy breath and couldn’t seem to find her voice.
Why can’t I just keep it? Why can’t he love me? I’d be a good wife to him. I already love his children, too. Too? Oh, mercy in heaven—I love him! What should I do?

“Perhaps you’d like to sit down,” Ethan said. His hand cupped her elbow.

He’s such a gentleman. So polite, so concerned. This is dreadful. He’ll probably do the honorable thing and ask me to marry him just to spare me the embarrassment
.

“It’s not like you to be this rattled. Are you feeling poorly? You’re flushed.” He seated her on a rock and pressed the back of his fingers to her cheek. “Perhaps I should get Banner or Myrtle for you.”

“No!” The concern in his eyes shifted to surprise when she blurted out that one word. She heaved a very unladylike sigh and cast away every hope or dream she might have entertained about having a happy future. She wanted this man. No other. No other man could ever make her as happy.
Then why am I going to let go of this opportunity? Because it’s honorable. I never knew being honorable could hurt so badly. Dear Jesus, give me strength
.

Charity turned her hand over and very slowly uncurled her fingers. The lovely button lay cradled in her hand. She wet her lips and whispered, “I’ve inadvertently placed you in an untenable position. I’m so sorry, Mr. Cole.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. I thought you liked it.” What could very well pass for hurt flickered in his eyes.

“Oh, I do!” Charity paused then said somberly, “But I cannot accept it. Banner—she was helping me pack. I didn’t realize … That is, I don’t mean to hold her to blame, because I alone am responsible….”

“Charity, what are you trying to tell me?”

“I lost count. She saved a few buttons off of Mama’s clothes the night we were packing, and when I slipped them on the string, I lost count.” Every word ached with the misery she felt as she whispered, “I take full responsibility, Mr. Cole. I wanted to give this back to you privately. Please understand, it was a lovely gift. I’ve never seen anything so wonderful, and no one ever troubled himself to make something by his own hands just for me; but I cannot keep it under these circumstances, and I hope you forgive me.”

“What are you saying, Charity?”

She carefully transferred the button from her hand to his. His hand was large, rough, and calloused. In his palm, the button looked minuscule. How had he managed to create anything so dainty? Charity stayed silent for a moment then realized he still didn’t comprehend what she was doing. “Mr. Cole, I was mistaken about how many buttons decorated my string. This,” she swallowed and whispered thickly, “would be the thousandth.”

“The thousandth.” He repeated the word in a husky tone.

She wanted to run away. She wanted to hide from all of the prying eyes turned their way. She wanted to burst into tears. Most of all, she wanted him to slip that marvelous button back into her hand and ask her to be his beloved wife.

Instead, she tried to give him a smile. From the reflection in his eyes, Charity knew she’d failed miserably. “Certainly, I have no expectations. Had I been more careful, you’d not be in this awkward position. If you’d like, I’ll be happy to sew it on the yoke of Cricket’s new frock.”

“I see.” He stared down at the dinky ribbon. He’d spent the last week making it. Twice he’d broken it and had to start afresh. Charity deserved something wonderful, but this was all he had to give. The whole time he’d carved it, he’d thought of the elegant, fancy, and expensive gifts she’d undoubtedly received all of her life. This cost nothing but spare time, yet she acted like she appreciated it. That was another mark of her fine manners. She could make a pauper feel like a prince. Nonetheless, he was a pauper. He had no right to hope this princess would ever set her heart on him.

She blinked back the tears in her eyes. “I’m afraid Tad counted them and wasn’t discreet in breaking the news to me. Though I know you might have wished otherwise, others already know. Truly, Mr. Cole, I never meant for this to happen. Please forgive me for my carelessness. I’ll take responsibility. I’ll be sure folks understand.”

The temptation to take advantage of the situation nearly overpowered him. It would be so easy to simply insist she wed him. She’d accepted the button and added it to her string. He’d have her for his wife, and he’d cherish her every last day of their marriage; but would she resent him for taking advantage of this mistake, and could he maintain his self-respect for trapping her when she’d agreed to the union only to avoid social embarrassment?

Ethan cleared his throat. The words stuck. He wanted to drop onto his knee right there and pledge his heart, but the last thing he needed to do was humiliate them both by making a public spectacle of this mess so she’d feel even more obligated. It took every shred of self-discipline for him to tamp down his own wants and needs and put hers first. Finally, he rubbed his thumb across the loop of the bow. “What do you want to do about this, Charity?”

She pressed her fingers to her mouth to hold back a sob. Her shoulders shrugged in silent turmoil as a few tears slipped down her cheeks.

He tilted her face up to his. “Some things in life you don’t rush. The decision to marry is definitely one of them. For the weeks we’ve been traveling together, we’ve prayed with the children. That was wise. I think it would be wise if we prayed separately and together about this. If we seek God’s will, He’ll honor our hearts and show us the way.”

Charity nodded.

“Tell you what: Why don’t you sew this button to the bonnet of our wagon? When we see it, it’ll serve as a reminder to us to truly consider our paths and seek the Lord’s intent.”

“That would be best,” she agreed in a strained voice.

“At any point in time—even now, if you know your heart and mine won’t be a comfortable match, I want you to take it down and …” He searched his mind for what she could do with it. He’d never again want to set eyes on the piece. “Set it beneath a wheel so it is crushed and left behind in the dust so there will be no doubt and no keepsake to act as a thorn to our memories.”

She simply looked at him. He knew she’d heard him, but she gave no response. “Charity, if you are mortified by even the possibility of being my wife, you can say so now. I’ll still carry you and your things to Oregon. You know that, don’t you?”

“We’ll continue on and pray. I’ll stitch it securely so it won’t accidentally get jostled loose.”

“Fine.” He wanted to let out a shout. At least she hadn’t rejected him outright. “I’m not letting you shoulder the explanation for this alone. Best we make a general announcement than let tongues wag.”

He reached out his other hand. She took it, and he helped her rise. Their hands clasped for the first time as he bowed his head. “Father, Your Word instructs us to come to You for wisdom. Charity and I believe in You and want to live to please You. The union of two hearts is not a light matter. Please grant us strength to take time in considering this, and make Your plan for our lives clear. I want to thank You for the way You’ve allowed us to work together well thus far and ask that You would continue to bless us as we continue on, on the trail and in our lives. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

“Amen,” she whispered.

Ethan didn’t let go of her hand. He walked her to a small knot of folks who suddenly tried to appear occupied in anything other than observing them. Cricket skipped up. She wound her arms around his legs and looked up at him. “Pa, are you and Miz Davis gonna get married?”

“Sweet pea, we haven’t decided yet. It’s in God’s hands.”

Chapter 7

A
woman could hope. Charity threaded her strongest thread through the needle. With great care, she stitched the button to the wagon bonnet. Seven. Eight. Nine stitches to secure the shank to the fabric. No, ten. She couldn’t resist putting that one last extra stitch in for good measure. She’d carefully chosen the place to sew the button so she’d see it first thing upon waking and last thing at night.

“Delight thyself in the Lord, and He will grant thee the desires of thy heart.” She whispered that verse as she knotted the thread and cut it.
Heavenly Father, You know the desire of my heart. If it is not in accordance with Your wishes, please let me know right away
.

She gently, almost reverently, touched the piece then turned to put away her sewing supplies. As much to avoid others as to get supper, Ethan suggested she drive the wagon in the afternoon while he went hunting. The time they had allowed others to gossip or speculate, so she and Ethan both hoped folks would be circumspect in the days and weeks ahead. Ethan had come back with a bighorn sheep, so as she sewed, he went to the edge of the campsite and dressed the meat.

Fresh meat was meant to be shared. When someone made a good-sized kill, he divided it up as he saw fit. Banner hadn’t exaggerated that first night when she praised Ethan’s prowess with a rifle. Most of the folks in the train had benefited from his hunting skills.

They’d seen another wagon train where folks strung strings across the wagon bows and hung thin strips of buffalo meat on them. Their guide, Mr. Patterson, spat in disgust over that practice. “Smells of blood. It invites wolves to close in. Indians, too. They depend on the buffalo for everything; white man wastes a good part of the beast. I know most of the other trains slaughter ’em, but I don’t want anyone bothering buffalo unless there’s no other meat to be shot.”

By now they were in the mountains. Obtaining water wasn’t a problem any longer, but the terrain became much more difficult to cover, and the nights grew cold. Buffalo and their chips were mere memories. Other kinds of game abounded, but men still didn’t hunt to their hearts’ content because of the sheer work it took to get the wagons up and down the steep mountain grades.

“Charity?” Ethan’s voice came through the wagon cover clearly. She closed her eyes for a moment and savored the sound of his voice. Like his velvety brown eyes, his voice held a depth that soothed and comforted.

“Yes?”

“I thought perhaps you’d like to decide how to divvy up the meat. I’ve already spitted half of this, so we’ll eat freshly roasted meat tonight. If you don’t mind my asking, I have a hankering for meat pie. I’ll set off some of the smaller slivers and hunks of meat in the stew pot. Pies would make nooning easier tomorrow since it looks like it’s going to be a grueling day.”

“That does sound good.” Thankful he’d given her a mundane conversation topic to ease their time together, she went to the end of the wagon and allowed him to lift her out. Was it her imagination, or did his hands give her a tiny squeeze a split second before he let go?

“Clara needs to build up her blood after the birthing. Do you mind if we give them the liver?”

He smiled. “No. I’ll take it over.”

“Oh, I’ll fix it for her! She shouldn’t be getting up yet.”

“I’d like to give the Legacy wagons a hind quarter to share if that’s all right with you. Abigail and her mama are both feeling poorly. I’m sure Hyacinth can cook for all of their family, and they can use the excess for tomorrow’s meals, too.”

Charity nodded. She nervously pleated her skirt and asked, “Would you mind if we asked the Laswells to join us for a roast? I want to be sure Banner knows I hold no hard feelings and don’t feel she’s to blame. Besides, the meat will spoil before we use it all ourselves, and they’ve got eight mouths to feed.”