My Sassy Settler (Willamette Wives Book 2) (19 page)

Hearing a sound, he looked up as wagons and buggies approached and then pulled off the road. People piled out of them and others dismounted horses. Adults as well as children were soon gathered around them, with concern and love evident on their faces. These were their friends. No, this was their family. Everyone who had braved the trail with them all those months ago were with them again. New friends they'd made as the valley was settled also gathered around the wagon.

"Aggy, look. Darlin', please, open your eyes, please come back to us," Wyatt said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Don't let his hatred win. You are strong. He can't beat you. I love you."

"We all love you," Anna said, reaching up to place her hand on Agatha's leg.

Agatha's eyes finally opened and tears slid down her cheeks as she saw the people. She turned her face up to her husband's.

"They… all of them…"

"They came for you, Aggy," Wyatt said, his voice breaking. "You are surrounded by love. There is no hate here, only love. There is no judgment, only acceptance. There is no pain, only healing. They all love you, darlin'. I love you." Terrified that she'd be unable to accept what he was witnessing, praying she wouldn't allow Wallace to pull her into hell again, Wyatt couldn't breathe. Not a soul moved and even the children were quiet, as if they understood that the best thing they could offer was their presence.

While James spread a quilt on the ground, Richard reached up to take Agatha. Wyatt hesitated to release her. "It's okay," Richard said quietly. "We are here for you, as well." Agatha allowed herself to be transferred to Richard's arms but reached for her husband the moment he'd alighted from the wagon.

"I've got you," Wyatt said as he sank down onto the quilt and Richard placed her on his lap before sitting as well, Anna sinking down to sit beside him with Johnny in her arms. Everyone else took a seat as well, some on quilts drawn from the backs of wagons, some on coats removed by the men, others not seeming to care that they were without protection from the cold ground.

Dr. Williams squatted down in front of the couple. "You are going to be okay, honey. You are safe, we are all here." He slowly reached for Agatha's arm, easing it down from Wyatt's neck, placing a finger on the inside of her wrist, unobtrusively taking her pulse. When someone offered a cup of water, he placed it in her hand, pressed his fingers around hers and guided the cup to her lips. "Try to take a sip, honey." It took a few attempts, but she managed to accept some of the liquid and then a bit more until she'd drained the cup.

"Good girl," Robert said, keeping his fingers on her pulse. As her tears subsided, he nodded. "That's right, deep breaths now." He guided her through several repetitions until she seemed to slowly focus.

"I'm sorry," Wyatt said, his voice soft. "I didn't keep you safe—"

"You did," Agatha whispered. "You couldn't have known. The flyer… it didn't have his name on it. It is not your fault."

Samuel Franklin, the owner of the mercantile, shook his head. "Isiah Jorgenson was listed for today but obviously that wasn't him. Richard said his name is Wallace Thompson. God—"

"No!" Wyatt snapped. "Do not speak of God in any sentence having to do with that bastard. That man does not know God. He knows nothing but evil. He is evil personified."

The gathering watched as Agatha reached up, her palm moving to cup his cheek, their roles changed as she comforted him with just her touch.

A small, golden-haired child slipped from her father's lap and approached the couple. "Anna will make you feel better," Becca said. "She gives good hugs."

The sweet purity of the innocent child's words as she offered her doll, had the atmosphere changing. Tension was swept away as Agatha reached not for the doll, but for the little girl, drawing her down onto her lap.

"Thank you, sweetie. I'm very blessed to have both Anna and you to hug me." She gave the girl a hug and looked around. "I've very blessed to have all of you. Thank you. I know this was supposed to be a special day for you and your children. I'm so sorry…"

"Don't," Charity said, her own cheeks showing tracks of tears. "I'd never let someone like him touch a single hair on my children's heads! You have absolutely nothing to apologize for!"

Wyatt nodded, also looking around the crowd. "If this is the sort of man the town wants for a spiritual leader, I promise we'll never walk through those doors again. I'll walk through the fires of hell before exposing my wife to such hatred."

"I've never been a churchgoer," Roger said, "but I know a building does not make a church. I have never felt closer to the Lord than when I'm out in His world seated on the back of a horse."

Harriet nodded and smiled, lifting her hands. "We don't need a building. The Lord says, 'Where one or more is gathered in my name, I am there.' He is here, in every one of us, in every breath of air we take." She paused and then repeated the verse. "We have our own church right here."

"Yes, we'll teach nothing but love and kindness," said Anna.

"Forgiveness," added Charity.

"Hope," Teresa Goldman said from her seat beside Roger.

The tension lessened even more when Charity's eldest daughter turned to Teresa and said, "Hope," as she pointed to her own small chest.

With smiles, the others began to speak, each testifying softly. "The Lord does not want us to hate. He wants us to love each other. He wants his children to help and support one another," Thomas Stanford said.

His wife, Hannah, her arms around each of her sons, spoke next. "Whoever is without love does not know God, for God is love."

They did have their own service. There were no raised voices, no sermon, no damnation, no walls. Instead, the grove of trees was their sanctuary, the sky their ceiling, and their testimonials their lesson.

The temperature was dropping and the cold beginning to seep into their bones. Parents didn't scold as children began to squirm. Agatha made the first move as she helped Becca off her lap and then stood. They gathered in a large circle, hands reaching for another's. They prayed, not with heads lowered, or with eyes closed. Instead, faces were lifted to the sky. No pleas were uttered, no favors were asked, no requests given. Individual voices spoke softly, every word given was in thanks for their blessings, for God's love and guidance. When they chorused, 'Amen', Wyatt watched as Agatha was surrounded by the people who loved her for exactly who she was. As he finally moved away to speak to Samuel, he knew she was safe; no harm could come to her or to any of them in the midst of this incredible group of people.

As Wyatt lifted his wife onto the wagon seat again after thanking everyone, he wondered how long it would take before he heard the question he was dreading. His arm was draped around her as he held her to his side, her head resting on his shoulder. Richard's wagon followed as they returned to the ranch, the occupants waving as they split off towards their cabins.

It wasn't until they were driving towards their house that Agatha spoke. "I-I didn't see Ma."

Wyatt nodded, it was the question he'd been waiting for. "I didn't either, though I wasn't sure if it was only because all I saw was you. I asked Samuel. He said that Wallace had no one with him when he rode into town." He paused and pulled her a bit closer. "I'm sorry, Aggy. I don't know what that means."

She was quiet again until he pulled up and stopped in their yard. "I just hope that-that she is okay. I miss her so much." He lifted her from the wagon and she laid her cheek on his chest. "I love you, Wyatt. I love you so much."

"As I do you." They stood for a few moments and then Agatha pulled away.

"Thank you—"

"Shh, there is no need to thank me."

"I thank you anyway," she said, going up on her tiptoes to kiss him gently. When she pulled away, his heart caught in his throat at her smile.

"This really is our church," she said, lifting her hand. "How could anyone doubt God's love or desire for his children to be happy? A hateful God could not have created something so beautiful and so delicate as a snowflake."

Wyatt looked up to see fat flakes falling from the sky. Winter was finally here and yet, with this woman in his heart and with friends who stood beside them, he knew they'd be protected from the type of cold that seeped into a soul that froze all hope, all light, and all love. He said another prayer of thanks and then bent to kiss his wife, his gift from God again, tasting the purity of their love as well as the snowflakes that were on her lips.

Chapter Fifteen

Agatha ate her lunch seated on her husband's lap, her insistence that she was fine causing him to smile.

"You might be, but I just need to hold you."

By the time they went outside again, it was to see a world transformed. Snow continued to fall in a dense curtain, and the ground was covered in a white blanket that was growing thicker by the hour.

"It's so beautiful," Agatha said with a smile.

"It is. I'm just glad it held off until we were ready," Wyatt said, "I know ya'll are from Missouri, and used to snow, but we don't get much in Texas. It will be interesting for me to see how the herd handles it. Hey, maybe you can make some little booties and—" He turned back to her only to gasp as cold splattered against his neck.

"Oh no, you didn't," he said, brushing snow off his skin and licking it from his lips. "Only naughty little girls…" He yelped as another snowball hit him. "That's it, you are going to get your butt spanked."

Agatha squealed and ducked away when he reached for her. Snowballs began to fly, some meeting their targets, but most missing as their bodies ducked and twisted to avoid the missiles. Agatha ducked behind the chicken coop, scooping up snow and forming a snowball as fast as she could, the sound of her rooster crowing and his harem squawking not able to cover her laughter.

She gasped and then gave a strangled half-laugh, half-scream when a large hand full of snow was pressed against her face. "Do you give?" Wyatt asked, easily holding her in the air, her feet finding no purchase as they kicked.

"Never!" she said, the snowball she'd managed not to lose finding its way down the back of his shirt.

"Jesus!" Wyatt hollered, dancing in place as he held her with only one arm, his other hand trying to pull his shirt from his pants in order to free the snow. "That's cold!"

Agatha tried to squirm down his body but quickly found her husband's grip tightening. Deciding that perhaps she'd gone a bit too far, she wrapped her arms around his chest.

"I'm sorry, it just slipped…" Her heart began to pound when his head dipped, his eyes finding hers. The look in them had her stomach squirming.

"Sure it did," he teased, letting her slip down until her feet touched the ground. "So, darlin', you will understand when my hand just happens to slip down…"

He didn't need to finish his statement as she surged up onto her toes, not having felt his lifting of her skirt but definitely feeling his ice-cold hand as he slid it down the back of her bloomers to cup a cheek.

"Eeek, stop!" she squealed, dancing on her feet in her attempt to pull away.

"Oh, you wish to dance?" he said, earning another sharp squeal as his other hand cupped her other buttock.

"Wyatt!"

"Yes, my love?"

"Your hands are freezing!"

"Not for long," he said, squeezing her bottom. "They are warming up quite nicely thank you."

She squirmed another moment or two and then stilled, her blood racing and her body warming as he continued to caress her. She moaned when a finger slipped into the crevice separating her globes.

"Cold now?" he asked, huskily, his head dipping to ask the question against her ear.

"Oh, Wyatt."

"Chores can wait," he declared, lifting her again until she wrapped her legs around his waist. "Someone needs their backside heated."

Hearing the chickens cluck, she lifted her head. "The chickens need to be moved. We need to finish the indoor coop," she reminded him, not too sure if her husband really intended to spank her.

"Not until I finish warming my wife," he countered, already halfway to the house.

"But I was just playing."

"And so will I," he said, squeezing her cheeks again, "so will I."

Once in the bedroom, it seemed like a race to see who could shed their clothing the fastest. Agatha won by a mere second and ripped back the covers, diving beneath them and pulling them up to her chin, squealing again when they were instantly pulled down as Wyatt joined her. She reached for the covers but he chuckled.

"Cold?"

"Yes," she said, her nipples tightly puckered, goosebumps covering the rest of her skin.

"Let me see if I can fix that, shall I?"

"How?" she asked, trying to decide exactly what he'd meant by 'play'. She discovered his answer when he pulled her over his knees after scooting up to sit against the headboard.

"I was teasing!" she protested. "You don't need to spank me!"

"Yes, darlin', I do," Wyatt countered. His hand caressed her chilled skin. "Since I was the one to cause this beautiful ass to chill, it is only fair that I be the one who warms it, don't you agree?"

Agatha was torn between the need for his warmth and her trepidation of how it was to be delivered. As his palm slid across her bare flesh, she forgot her reluctance and pushed her hips up.

"I'll take that as a yes," he murmured, bending to kiss her cheek. She melted across him, her body warming with desire. "Poor little bottom," Wyatt said, "so pale. Warmth means color, and the color of that warming fire is what?"

"Pink?" Agatha said, turning her head back and giving him a grin. "I seem to remember hearing you say you loved a pretty
pale
pink."

His laughter and his quirked eyebrow had her giggling, and the remaining horror of how the day had started evaporated. The only person whose opinion of her mattered was this man. The man she'd wed and the man she was learning loved her and all her flaws with all of his heart.

"I suppose we can start with pink," Wyatt said, his hand lifting to deliver a soft swat to each cheek. "Yes, I can agree with that. A nice pale pink and then, my love, a nice warm red."