Love by the Letter (8 page)

He shook his head. “Why?”

“Your mother said they were.”

Patricia tucked herself against Everett’s side. “Rachel didn’t feel well enough for church or the ride out here, so we said good-bye at home. Which was a good thing since Mama’s been crying all morning and gave herself a headache.”

“Are you all right, darling?” Everett ran his thumb along her hairline.

“I’ll be fine with you.”

Dex whipped off his hat and scratched his scalp. “Then I need to go back into town.”

“Now, who’s been preaching to us about being prepared and ready?” Everett let go of Patricia to put his hands on his hips, but she snaked her arm back around his elbow.

“It’s not something I planned to do.” He slammed a fist into his palm. He should have barged into the house and hollered through Rachel’s barricaded door last night when he’d had the chance.

He’d rather have taken a slap in the face over silence. “Neil, a word please.”

Rachel’s brother hopped down and followed. “I can’t think of anything you’d need from my parents.”

“No, I need something from Rachel, but she’s refusing to talk to me.”

“That doesn’t sound like her.”

“I didn’t think so.” Dex paced a step or two, then spun and faced Neil. “Did you see the incident with Miss Pratt at the picnic?” He waved toward Jedidiah scrambling around the back of Fannie’s wagon.

“No, but I heard.”

“Well, Rachel saw but didn’t hear.”

Neil crossed his arms. “So . . . ?”

What did it matter that Neil knew his feelings before Rachel did? She was the one refusing to talk to him. “I . . . I’m in love with your sister. And I thought she felt the same for me. That is, until Miss Pratt happened. So I wrote her a note explaining the situation and
your mother took it to her. But Rachel never answered. I felt sure she’d answer, if only to tell me no. So I sat outside for two hours until I had to leave to get home before dark, and I—”

Neil held up his hand to cut him off. “You gave the note to my mother?”

“Yes.”

“She’s intent on Rachel going to school. Rabidly so.” Neil sneaked a look at his watch and stared at him for a moment. “Would you ask Rachel to sacrifice college for you?”

He wasn’t worth that. “She shouldn’t give up any dreams for me.”

“She might, Dex. Possibly even today.”

His jaw worked as he judged the look in Neil’s eyes. Had Rachel talked to him? “What do you know?”

“I pay attention to my sisters.” He shrugged.

“But everyone knows she’s going to some fancy college out East.”

“Because Ma tells anyone and everyone. But one good thing about not talking much is people forget I’m in the room, and I can study them. You’re right, Rachel likes you—more than school. She would have responded to your letter.” Neil frowned at him. “You told her you turned down Miss Pratt, yes?”

“Of course I did.” If Neil thought Rachel liked him enough to forget schooling and leave with him today, Rachel didn’t merely care for him. She must feel something more. A lot more. “But what makes you think she’d leave with me now?”

Neil held out his hand to count on his fingers. “She’s always watching you. If she hears your name mentioned, she perks up. In your company, she’ll migrate to wherever you are. Has for years.”

“That’s all?” How was he supposed to have figured out she cared for him with only those clues?

Neil smirked. “Rachel hates to fail. She won’t creep out on a limb unless she’s calculated the arc, the weight, the length, the odds—”

“Then how sure are you that she holds any affection for me?” She’d run from him yesterday, but then he’d shocked her with that kiss. He’d stunned himself. Had she simply left to clear her mind and decide what to do?

“She went to the fairground and sought you out, wearing one of Patricia’s fancy dresses, yes?”

“Yes.” And what a sight she’d been.

“Did she look at you, beckon to you, anything she’s never done before?”

How could he describe what had flashed in her eyes? “Yes.”

“I’d say that took her a mountain of effort, seeing how she’s never done as much before.”

How was he supposed to have known that? Neil would be a handy business partner if he could read other people so well.

Dex looked toward Jedidiah’s wagon. “So when Miss Pratt showed up, Rachel believed she’d made an error in judgment.” He turned back to Neil. “But that doesn’t explain why she’d ignore my letter. I told her about Miss Pratt.”

“Which means she didn’t get it.” Neil cleared his throat. “I love my mother, but she’s manipulating Rachel into college and uses Rachel’s tendency to second-guess herself.”

So a dragon guarded the castle turrets. “Then how do I get around your mother?”

“Rachel’s at the library now. She helps Mr. Peterson with whatever one does at libraries when they’re closed.”

Tremors overtook Dex as he contemplated a quick change of plans. Plans he had no time for. But he didn’t have much choice—not if he wanted the woman he loved by his side.

“The group won’t wait for me.” What would he do with his wagon piled high with supplies for the frontier?

“What’s more important, Dex?”

“Your sister of course. I just . . .” He looked between his wagon and town. Must he abandon one dream for the other?

Neil clamped onto his arm. “I’ll talk to Jamison, convince him to start the group slow. If you want, Patricia can drive your team for awhile.” He jabbed a finger at Dex’s vehicle. “You got enough to keep my sister provided for if she comes?”

Dex’s hands grew slick, and he rubbed them against his pants. Would Rachel really leave with him? Today? “We could make do.”

“Then why are you still standing here?”

“The scheduled stop in Lawrence should buy me time. I’ll take my wagon and catch up later.” Dex shook Neil’s hand and then ran to his team.

Even if Rachel cared for him as her brother suggested, would she be willing to marry him and head off to Kansas within the day?

Married
. He could be married by tomorrow.

With a hard twist, Rachel finally turned the skeleton key in the library door’s lock. A slight push opened the darkly stained oaken door, and the smell of paper and ink washed over her. Hopefully she could find some tranquility here. Though she didn’t intend to do much work today, only pray and read her Bible.

Keep Neil, Patricia, and Everett safe as they start their new life. Help me figure out what to do with mine. I should have asked You long ago what You’d have me do. Please give me direction today. I know You want to give me the desires of my heart, but I should be talking that through with You. Turn my desires into Yours.

And yes, watch over Dex and his new wife too.

Opening the shades to read by sunlight, she ignored the ache the last part of her prayer created in every muscle of her body. Maybe she’d read a little, then pray until she fell asleep. Sleep should brighten her outlook, even if she had to doze upright in the little library’s only upholstered chair.

She settled herself and put on the spectacles she only used when her eyes were tired. Holding the thick Bible in her lap, she turned to where she’d left off. She hadn’t the strength to search for anything, so she’d just spend time with God and hope He’d supply a verse to ease her pain. Being cut loose from the life she’d imagined for so long left her at the mercy of a fickle wind like a spent autumn leaf. She couldn’t bear to live that way for long. But the further she read without receiving any balm for her soul, the more she yearned to curl up and disappear.

How long until she could think of Dex without her heart throbbing? How long until God gave her a purpose?

I give up. Can you say something to me now? Anything. Do you want me to go to school?

Knock, and the door shall be opened to you.

Doors. Opened or closed, knocked-upon or not. What did it matter?

All I wanted was for Dex to care for me. I even knocked. Granted, I didn’t bother until too late. So is that what You want to teach me? Find something to knock about but don’t wait so long next time?

But what should she knock for that she could have? God wouldn’t condone her knocking for the love of a married man. But right now, she didn’t desire anything but Dex.

Thump, thump, thump.
The hair on her neck stood as the front door’s shade flopped with each rap of a fist. Who thought the library would be open on Sunday?

The door flew open, and Dex slid in, breathing heavily.

Rachel’s heart jumped, but she stuffed the reaction down and glanced at the ceiling.
What is this, Lord?

“Hello.” Dex’s voice rumbled through her, starting her heart flopping again. Even glistening with sweat, the man looked good.

She closed her Bible and gazed out the west-facing window though she couldn’t see past the buildings across the street. Why was he here? A visit from Dex certainly wouldn’t alleviate her envy for Miss Pratt’s position. Or rather, Mrs. Stanton’s.

“Aren’t you supposed to be headed to Lawrence already?”

“Yes.” He stalked over and stood beside her, running a hand through his damp hair. “But I needed someone to write a letter for me, and I only trust you. The woman I love . . . was upset when she left me.” He fidgeted, then quickly strode back to the door and shut it. “I figured she might hear me out if I sent her a letter.”

Rachel suppressed a groan. He was asking her to win back a woman who’d left him within a day?

Father, I know I asked You to say something to me today, but I wasn’t requesting torture!

She straightened in her chair and stared out the window. “If she came to you despite your spelling the first time, then you can convince her in your own hand.”

“No, this has to be perfect. Every single letter.”

Maybe God planned to show her through Dex’s own words why she couldn’t have him. A way to heal perhaps from a desire God never wanted her to have. She swallowed hard and steeled her spine. “All right.” She set aside her Bible and crossed over to the librarian’s desk.

“I’ve always admired you for giving of yourself to anyone who asks. Even when they ask more of you than they ought.”

“No need to flatter.” If only he knew how much this favor would pain her.

“Neil mentioned you might not be going to school. Is that so?”

She sat behind the desk, pulled a sheet of paper from the drawer, and dipped the ink pen. “I don’t know. I’d enjoy going to Elmira or Mary Sharp’s, but . . . it isn’t my dream.” Sighing, she looked up at Dex who’d taken the seat across from her, but couldn’t hold his intense gaze. “I’m ready when you are.”

Not really. But would she ever be ready to hear this?

Dex pulled out his letter and unfolded it behind the desk where she couldn’t see. On the ride in he’d decided to say this to her, to make it more meaningful. He glanced down, but he knew the words by heart—they weren’t the words of a poet, but they were his own.

He cleared his throat, but the words seemed glued to his tongue. Maybe he should change some of the wording . . .

Rachel peeked at him for less than a second.

He clamped his hands between his knees, willing his heart to stop thudding against his brain and causing the sloppy roar in his ears. Neil said she’d leave with him today. If so, it didn’t matter if his voice broke or he stumbled over his own words; if she loved him, she’d want to come with him no matter how badly he messed up the proposal. But what if he couldn’t find a minister willing to marry them today? What were the Kansas Territory laws on matrimony?

“Are you going to be a while? I could read until you’re ready.”

“No, no. I just don’t want to mess this up. And then I started thinking that if the woman I love answers me the way I’m hoping, I have no idea how I’ll pull this off.”

Did Rachel sniff?

“Well, she shouldn’t expect perfection. If she didn’t hold to her end of the deal and ran away, then maybe—” She grimaced. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be trying to talk you out of anything. It’s your life.”

She propped her chin in her hand and stared at the paper. Her thick hair, usually caught up in a bun, hung loose in a tempting curtain of curls. A pair of gold rimmed glasses he’d never seen perched precariously on her nose. He wanted to slide them off and get a good look at her eyes, but then he’d get lost in them. Not good. He needed to say absolutely everything he wanted to say and make sure she heard every word.

“I’m ready now.” He flattened the letter on his lap—in case he needed it—and crossed his arms atop the desk. “Tell me what you think at the end.”

Her lips pressed together so tight they quivered. She shook her head but said nothing.

He took a deep breath and plowed forward. “To the woman I’ve only dreamed of. I figured you’d look down on me when you heard me read and saw how terribly I wrote. And yet you didn’t. I’ve lived my whole life hiding my difficulties from everyone. Especially you. I never believed myself worthy of your beauty or intelligence. But then, in a matter of days, I realized how much of a fool I was.” He waited until she caught up, hoping she’d look at him, but she didn’t.

“How could I have thought you’d think poorly of me when you’ve done nothing but care for the people around you? You’ve never given up on a person. Why, most people around here believe you’re a saint for not abandoning that one widow who died as bitter as ever, despite the constant vigil you kept by her deathbed.”

Rachel’s pen froze in the middle of the word
bitter
.

He swallowed against the tightness in his throat. She knew he was talking about her now, though she’d yet to look at him.

Leaning closer, he softened his voice. “How could a man not wish to live the rest of his life with you? Wake up to those rich-honey eyes, run his hands through that glossy hair, appreciate the mind God gifted you with, and be ministered to by the hands always ready to help. But when I realized I’d been wrong and that you might care for a simpleton like me, I couldn’t ask you to exchange your dream for years of rough farming. So I thought I’d try to woo you with my terrible handwriting, maybe have a good home ready when you graduated, but now . . .”

He bit the inside of his cheek and waited for her to look up. When she finally lifted her glistening lashes, he couldn’t help but smile despite the crazy question he was about to ask.

“But now that you’ve given up school on your own, do I have any chance of convincing you to marry me?” He rubbed his hands on his legs. “Um, now?”

Rachel’s eyes moved back and forth as if reviewing everything he’d said. “What about the bride you wrote to. Where’s she?”

“Miss Pratt’s heading west with the wagon train, but not with me. I never asked her to come, though she must have had reasons of her own for making it look that way.”

“Would you really marry me the day you proposed?”

He leaned closer. “Could you marry a man who can’t promise he’ll be able to spell your name correctly . . . well, ever?”

“If he can dictate a letter like that,” she whispered, “absolutely.”

He took each of her hands in his and rubbed the backs with his thumbs. Everything in him begged to kiss her senseless, but he had to make sure she knew what he could and couldn’t offer. “I can’t promise I’ll be prosperous. I can’t promise you’ll get to see your parents again, or—”

Rachel placed a firm finger on his lips. “You don’t have to be perfect to make me love you. I already do.”

He clasped her hands in his. “Enough to pack a trunk, hop in my wagon, and drive all night if the moon is bright enough?” He swept a strand of hair off her rosy cheek. “But I don’t know if a judge would marry us on a Sunday. If we can’t get anyone until tomorrow morning, we’re going to have a lot of hard riding to do.”

“Harold Avery’s a preacher, right?” Her eyes twinkled.

His smile grew slowly. He’d been grateful someone in the wagon train could ramble off a decent sermon while they traveled, but he hadn’t considered that perk. “Right. I’m so glad you’re smart.”

“I’m kissable too.” The flash in her eyes and the pout of her lips made him chuckle.

“Yes, very kissable.”

She leaned forward, and he nearly pulled her across the desk. Her eyelids drooped, and he cupped the back of her head, her hair softer than luxurious silk. His gaze roved over the freckles he hadn’t known she had, and he kissed the beauty mark near her lips before her mouth sought his. The world swirled about him, nothing but
the taste of her existed. How could he ever feel worthless again if she created this much fire in his arms?

Her hands shot around his neck, and she pressed closer.

Too much fire. He broke away enough to whisper against her lips. “Save that for tonight.” If his team ran half as fast as his pulse raced, they’d have no problem catching up with the wagon train by nightfall.

She hummed, eyes closed. “Much better kiss than last time.”

Laughing, he supported her upper arms as he set his blushing bride back behind the desk. “And you don’t even taste like butterscotch at the moment.”

She opened her dreamy eyes and gave him a lazy smile. “I’ve waited for you for twelve years.”

Twelve years? She’d loved him that long? The depth in her eyes proved her soft statement. “I truly am a fool, if that’s how long you’ve loved me.”

She shrugged and walked around the desk to him. “Fool or not, I don’t want to wait another day.”

“Neither do I.” He held out his hand and her fingers entwined with his, spreading warmth through the rest of his body. Why had he forced himself to stop dreaming of this woman at night when she’d been dreaming of him all along?

He should have trusted God long ago with his heart’s desire. “Let’s ride, my love.”