The Anonymous Bride (33 page)

Pushing away from the post, he walked down the street. Rachel saw him and stopped sweeping. Her gaze looked worried, apprehensive, but why should she be uneasy around him? He touched the end of his hat and dipped his head at her. She acknowledged his greeting by nodding once.

He should have kept on walking, but something drew him to her like a moth to a lantern. Maybe she could never be his, but he could be polite. Sociable. “How are you today?”

“Fine, thank you.” She studied the porch floor rather than looking at him. “I thought I’d get out here and do the sweeping before the day heated up.”

“It’s a lovely day.” She’d once been his best friend, the one person he shared his hopes and dreams with, and now they were reduced to talking about the weather.

She glanced up at the sky, avoiding his gaze. “Yes, it’s near perfect, although I wouldn’t mind a summer thunderstorm to blow through and cool things down.”

“It would probably just dump more moisture in the air and make us all sweat.” Luke winced at his dumb remark. Goodness, couldn’t he even talk normal with her?

“I suppose that’s true.” She glanced at her front door. “I’d better get back inside and start breakfast. I imagine you’re getting hungry, and my guests will be up soon, wanting to eat.”

“Don’t hurry on my account.”

Rachel’s cheeks turned a soft rose color. “I’ll see you in about an hour, I guess.”

Luke nodded and watched her go inside. He hadn’t noticed before, but she looked as if she’d lost weight recently. Her dress hung looser and looked a bit bunched up at her waist. Was caring for the brides too much for her? But owning a boardinghouse, she was surely used to having guests much of the time.

Concern for her nagged his steps as he headed toward the parson’s place.

***

Rachel watched Luke walk away. She hated the awkwardness that existed between them, but with him close to choosing one of the brides to marry, she had to distance herself from him, had to protect her heart.

There was no sense mooning over what could never be, even if her heart was breaking. She’d prayed for Luke’s forgiveness ever since he returned, but she couldn’t force him to pardon and forget what she’d done to him.

Back in the kitchen, she washed her hands and tied on her apron. She wondered who he would choose, though she’d decided Miss Bennett would be the best choice, even if she was as prickly as a cactus at times. Rachel hugged her mixing bowl to her chest. The young woman was a farm girl, surely a good cook and seamstress, and would make any man a decent wife so long as she held her attitude in check. Miss Blackstone was too rough and seemed unsettled. Rachel couldn’t help feeling as if that woman was hiding something. And Miss O’Neil wasn’t much of a cook and didn’t seem to have the stamina needed to survive the rugged lifestyle a Texan lived, although she sure kept her room tidy.

Truth be told, none of the brides were the perfect match for the marshal. But then, was there even such a thing as a perfect match between a man and a woman?

Standing at the counter, she stared at the rounded bread dough that was ready to go in the oven. She’d once thought that she and Luke were a match made in heaven. But she had to go and ruin it. Tears burned her eyes and made her throat ache. If only she could go back and do things over—but then she wouldn’t have her daughter.
Give me strength, Lord, to do the right thing.

She reached into her pocket and touched the letter from her aunt. Millie had written again, asking her and Jacqueline to come to Kansas City and live with her and help work in Millie’s mercantile. The move might be good for Jacqueline. It would get her away from those ruffian boys, but she wouldn’t like moving and would most likely throw a fit at leaving Luke and Max. But once Luke had a wife and children of his own, he would no longer be interested in her daughter.

Rachel’s chin wobbled. She had to get hold of herself before either Jacqueline came to help or someone else noticed. With the oven properly heated, she placed the two loaves of bread in it and cracked the eggs for breakfast.

An hour and a half later, after she’d sent Jacqueline out to weed the garden, she donned her bonnet and headed to the mayor’s office. She had a hard time imagining living anywhere other than Lookout, but she knew her days in the small town were numbered. Living here with Luke married to one of the brides was out of the question. She hoped that the income from the sale of the boardinghouse would be all the money she and Jacqueline needed for a long while with her aunt providing room and board.

Before entering the mayor’s office, Rachel turned and looked at Hamilton House. She loved the soft green with white trim and the wraparound porches that looked so inviting with all those rocking chairs just waiting for people to sit in them. But Hamilton House would soon be part of her past.

Sucking in a steadying breath, she opened the door and went inside. If things went as planned, she and Jacqueline could be on the train to Kansas City in a week or two.

CHAPTER 26

Luke stared into his coffee cup as Mrs. Taylor finished up the breakfast dishes. “Thanks, ma’am, for that fine meal.”

The preacher’s wife looked over her shoulder and smiled. “You’re very welcome. We’re happy to have you anytime, but it’s the least we could do after all the wood you helped Thomas chop and stack. Why, we shouldn’t need any for a month, I would imagine.”

Luke nodded. “My pleasure.”

“I helped, too, Ma.”

Mrs. Taylor smiled at her son. “I know, Sam. I saw you out there stacking wood. You did a fine job.”

The boy puffed up his chest and glanced between his pa and older brother.

“Boys, you head on out to the barn and muck the stalls.” The pastor turned to his daughter, a cute blond around six years old. “Emily, help your ma finish cleaning up, and watch the baby when she wakes up.”

“Yes, Pa.”

The boys carried their dishes to the cabinet beside the dry sink and rushed outside. Emily scraped the plates and stacked them beside the basin where her ma was washing. Luke watched the activities around him. What would it be like to have a home with a mess of children?

The pastor couldn’t be more than five years or so older than him, but he was way ahead of Luke as far as starting a family. Pastor Taylor downed the last of his coffee and stood. “Shall we adjourn to my study?”

Luke followed the man out of the cozy kitchen, down a short hall, and into a nook across from the parlor. The small room painted white held a desk on one wall, a bookcase filled with reference books, and a small settee. In front of the desk was a chair. Pastor Taylor motioned for Luke to have a seat on the settee and grabbed the top of the chair and swung it around to face the couch. Then he closed the door to the room and opened both windows. A light breeze fluttered the blue curtains as the pastor took a seat.

With short brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses, he looked more like a bank teller than a minister of the gospel. He crossed his hands over his light blue chambray shirt and stared at Luke. For a moment he refrained from speaking, and Luke sat still, resisting the urge to wiggle like a schoolboy in trouble. Was the man praying?

Luke cleared his throat. His nerves had settled during the hour and a half that he’d chopped wood and eaten breakfast, but they were on the rise again. He jiggled his foot and stared out the window. Why had he felt such a need to speak with the pastor?

“So ... something on your mind today?”

Luke nodded, relieved to be starting yet unsure where to begin. The pastor wasn’t a native of the town and probably didn’t know about Luke’s previous relationship with Rachel.

“You nervous about picking a bride?”

“Uh ... no, well yes. But that’s not the main reason I needed to talk to you.”

“All right. Just take your time. I’m in no hurry.”

Luke ran his fingers through his hair. Sucking in a steadying breath, he stared at the preacher. “I ... uh ... guess you could say I’m having trouble forgiving someone for a past offense.”

“Ah, I see. And have you prayed about it?”

Luke’s hand clamped onto the arm of the settee. “More than you can imagine.”

“Is it something that’s happened recently or a while back?”

“A long time ago—more than a decade, actually.”

The pastor’s brows lifted. “That’s a while to carry an offense. Must have been a big one.”

Luke pursed his lips and stared out the window, remembering Rachel’s words. She’d looked at him, the whites of her eyes and her nose red from tears, and that alone had nearly done him in.
I’ve married James Hamilton.

A gunshot point blank couldn’t have hurt any worse. He’d been working for a year to make enough money for a down payment on a little house and to support Rachel. She’d been the love of his life, the only girl he’d ever had eyes for. But she dumped him to marry the richest man in town.

“Luke,” the pastor’s soft voice drew him out of the past. “I know you’re a Christian, but how long have you been one?”

He shook his head. “Not long. Less than a year.”

“I can tell you that forgiving isn’t an easy thing, even for a man who’s been a believer for most of his life.” He leaned forward, head down for a moment. “If you’ve read your Bible, you know that it says in Mark, ‘But if ye do not forgive, neither will your Father which is in heaven forgive your trespasses.’”

Luke faced the pastor. “I know that, but it doesn’t tell me
how
to forgive. Just that I need to.”

“I can tell by your expression how you’ve struggled with this. Forgiveness is a choice, Luke. We must choose to forgive and turn loose of our hurts. Nobody can do that for us.”

“But how do you do that?” Luke leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

“You have to make a conscious effort to do it. Say ‘I choose to forgive you,’ and then let go of the hurt. Give it to the Lord to carry.”

Luke looked down at the pastor’s boots. “I don’t know if I can do that. I’ve carried this hurt for so long.”

“And look what’s it’s done to you.”

He glanced up. “What’s that?”

“It has you all torn up inside. Jesus died to set us free from our sin. He wants us to live a victorious life, not one weighed down by sin and an unforgiving spirit. If you believe Christ died for you and have given your heart to Him, He’ll help you with your struggles. But that doesn’t mean He doesn’t expect us to do our part.”

“So I’m just supposed to turn loose of my pain, just like I turn my horse loose in a pasture?”

Pastor Taylor nodded. “Pretty much. You let it go and make the choice to forgive. When negative thoughts come back to pester you, mentally you have to chase them away and not dwell on them.” He turned and grabbed his Bible off the desk and thumbed through some pages. “In James, the scriptures say, ‘Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Draw nigh to God, and He will draw nigh to you.’”

He glanced back at Luke. “Once you’ve forgiven, continue to resist Satan and don’t allow thoughts of bitterness or hurt to creep back in.”

Luke considered all that the pastor said. He could see his problem had been continuing to dwell on the situation with Rachel when he should have given it over to God. He just had to choose to forgive her and then refuse to think about the offense again. Could he do that?

What choice did he have? If he wanted God’s forgiveness—and he did more than anything—then he had to forgive Rachel.

“I understand now. I may have forgiven in the past, but I kept thinking of how much I was hurt—and that made me angry.”

The pastor nodded. “You kept taking the offense off God’s shoulder and putting it back on yours. Give your burden to him, and then forget about it. Don’t let the enemy talk you into shouldering it again.”

Luke smiled. “You make everything sound so easy.”

A melancholy look draped the pastor’s face, making Luke wonder what he struggled with. Pastor Taylor shook his head. “It’s not easy, but God gives us the grace to do it. And remember, refusing to forgive hurts you more than the people you’re upset with.”

Luke nodded, and for the first time, he felt he had the power to conquer his pain.

“Would you like me to pray with you?”

“Yep, I would.”

Ten minutes later, Luke walked out of the pastor’s house feeling freer than he had in years. He still wanted to get alone with God, but he knew now that he could forgive Rachel and let go of the past.

***

Carly followed the other brides upstairs. She’d miss Mrs. Hamilton’s cooking when she left here—that was for certain. Her stomach ached from chicken and dumplings, green beans, applesauce, and rolls that the boardinghouse owner had made for supper. And then there was the peach pie. Mmm ...

At the top of the stairs, Miss Bennett stopped suddenly and pivoted, crossing her arms over her chest. Miss O’Neil almost ran into her but sidestepped in time to move past her.

“I’m telling you both now that I’ll be marrying the marshal, so you’d better decide what you’re going to do.” Miss Bennett lifted her chin to emphasize her point.

Carly walked up the two stairs to the landing, not wanting to give the snooty woman the benefit of looking down on her. “Just what makes you think you’ll win?”