Twice Promised (The Blue Willow Brides Book #2): A Novel (19 page)

As soon as he was gone, Cora announced that she was going to go visit Martha Carey, a miner’s wife. “Annabelle told me Martha’s husband had an injured leg from a mining accident, so I thought I’d pay her a short visit if you don’t mind, Jess.”

“No, I don’t mind at all. The Careys haven’t lived here very long. They’re having a hard go of it from what I hear.”

“I found some piece goods of flannel that perhaps she can use for her new baby,” she said, indicating a soft blue fabric in her hand. “I’ll pay for it, Jess. Oh—” She reached into her dress pocket and handed him a knife. “Would you wrap this up and add it to my bill as well?”

“Now what in the world would you be needing that for?” Jess asked, taking the knife.

“I’ll explain later, but right now I need to go.”

“Are you walking? Do they live outside town?” Greta wanted to know.

“Yes, I’ll walk. It’s just a mile or so, and it’s a fine day to get some exercise. The family seems to be in need of assistance, according to Annabelle, and I’d like to help.” Cora grabbed her coat and bonnet from their hook and slipped them on.

Jess opened the door for her. “You sure you want to walk that far alone? I can’t leave the store right now.”

Cora nodded. “I’ll be fine, and the brisk air will do me good. Greta, good luck with Agnes, if she arrives before I return.”

Greta giggled. “I can handle Miss High and Mighty, never fear.”

Jess was sure that was an accurate statement. He watched Greta open Rascal’s crate and scoop up the small dog, which licked her cheeks and hands while she nuzzled its fluffy neck. An odd thought of how it would feel to cuddle with her ran through his brain.

17

The cool morning temperature quickly warmed as the sun climbed higher in the clear, cloudless sky. Cora’s back was beginning to feel warm by the time she walked past the shops and stepped off the boardwalk to follow the dirt road leading to Martha Carey’s home. Clad in sensible shoes for walking, she breathed deeply of the fresh scent of surrounding juniper and pines. Soon she was aware of how labored her breathing had become on the incline to a row of houses stretched out like miniatures on the ledge above.

She paused, as much to catch her breath as to inspect the tiny yellow flowers growing on thick, shiny-leafed shrubs. They had no smell, but their delicate beauty lent a certain harmony to the landscape, which was raw from rough roads carved by miners’ carts, horses, and wagons. The Colorado air certainly agreed with her constitution, and she felt invigorated by being outdoors. Yes, she mused, the Lord’s handiwork touched everything in sight, from the wide-open sky to the majestic mountains to the flowers growing alongside the road.

Clutching the bundle of flannel against her chest, she struggled for balance until she finally reached the summit of her climb. It had a perfect view of Central City below. Sidestepping a puddle or two, she lifted her skirts so as not to drag them through the muck and gave a nod at those passing by who greeted her. She hoped she’d be back before Agnes arrived at the store in case Greta needed her.

She found the correct house by the description Annabelle gave her and rapped on the door. After a few moments, a young girl appeared, wearing a thin brown homespun dress. She looked to be about nine years old, with large brown eyes that gave her a gaunt appearance.

“How do you do? Is this the home of the Careys?” Cora asked.

Cora stood waiting as the girl looked over her shoulder and yelled, “Mama! We’ve got company.” She turned back to Cora. “My mama’s feeling a little poorly, but she’s coming.” A little boy clutched his sister’s leg and looked up at her, wide-eyed. Minutes later, a weary-looking woman holding a baby stumbled to the door.

“Hello . . .” she said hesitantly, her hazel eyes staring weakly at Cora. “I’m Martha, and you are . . . ?”

“I’m Cora Johnson. Annabelle Mead told me you were new to the community, and I thought I’d stop by. I’m fairly new myself.”

The lady seemed surprised momentarily, then took two steps back, nearly tripping on two more children who had crept up to see who was at the door. “So nice to meet you, Cora. Where are my manners? Please come in.” She stepped aside, and the children scattered about the living room, watching their new visitor.

Cora stepped inside. Few furnishings adorned the living room, but it was neat and clean. Martha indicated a chair, and after Cora sat down, she took the other one, cradling the baby against her ample bosom. The baby looked up dreamily, then jerked as he drifted off to sleep.

“Annabelle was determined to call on you this week but was unable to, so I decided to come in her place and see if there was anything I could help you with.”

Martha looked at her with dull eyes that showed she was tired. She gave Cora a weak smile. “These are my children. The oldest is Leah, who’s nine, and this is Becky, who’s eight, Amos, who’s six, Eddy, who’s four, and the baby is Danny. He’s two months today.” She beamed, looking down at him.

The children smiled back, murmuring shy hellos. “Now, children, go finish your chores while Miss Cora and I visit.” Martha turned to face her after the children went about their normal duties. “My husband, Horace, is lying in bed with a bad leg injury. I’m sure he’d like to meet you, but he might be napping.”

“Please don’t disturb him. Maybe another time,” Cora said quietly, gazing at the little babe in Martha’s arms. “My goodness! He’s a beautiful baby with all that hair. I found this beautiful piece of blue flannel and wondered if you could use it for him. I’d have made something for him myself, but I’m not very good with a needle.”

“That’s so very thoughtful of you. And yes, that flannel will come in very handy. Let me put him in his cradle now that he’s asleep, and I’ll be right back,” Martha whispered.

When she returned, Martha took the material and ran her hand over its softness. “This will be perfect for the baby’s tender skin. I’ve been trying to teach Leah to sew.” She set the fabric on the table next to the chair where her sewing basket sat. “Would you like something to drink, perhaps a cup of coffee or tea?”

“A cup of coffee would be nice, but please don’t go to any trouble on my account if you don’t already have something made.”

“It would be my pleasure. I don’t have many visitors, and between the children and the baby and waiting on Horace these days, I hardly get a chance to talk to another woman.” It seemed her countenance had suddenly improved tenfold as she bustled toward the kitchen. Cora thought she might just be lonely.

“Then please let me come help you. I’m learning how not to be waited on.”

Martha gave her a strange look but continued on through the kitchen door. Soon they were sitting at the kitchen table over steaming mugs of coffee laced with heavy cream amid the comings and goings of four very active but well-mannered children. Cora looked at the watch pinned to her blouse and couldn’t believe a half hour had flown by.

“Oh my! I must be getting back to the store. I promised not to be long.” Cora scooted her chair back.

“I’ve kept you too long. I’m sorry,” Martha said.

“No, not at all. I promise to return another time if you’d like. Perhaps I can watch the children for you so you can have a bit of free time.”

Martha’s face crinkled, and Cora was afraid she might cry. “You’re so kind. I appreciate the offer and the material for the baby, but we’ll get along. The children are a great help. Please pray for Horace’s speedy recovery so that he can go back to work.”

“You have my prayers, Martha. I must go now.” Cora started toward the front door. “If you need anything at all, you know where I am or you can send one of the children for me.”

“God bless you for being so caring. I’ll stop in at the store soon to say hello.” Martha squeezed her hand. Somehow she didn’t look as weary as when Cora had first arrived, and she hoped their new friendship had a little to do with the light she saw reflected in Martha’s eyes.

“You do that, Martha. I’d like you to meet Greta now that I’ve told you a little about our situation.”

“I’d love to meet her. See you soon.”

Cora waved goodbye and hummed to herself as she left the hilltop and headed back down to the road. She removed her cape and carried it on her arm, feeling warmer than before. Strange how the evenings and early mornings were cool but the daytime temperatures quickly soared. That was the beauty of the Rocky Mountains. Every day her love of this region grew.

Cora was glad she’d taken the time to visit the Careys. She already had a thing or two she wanted to mention to Annabelle.

Before long she heard the sound of a horse coming from behind, and she moved to the side of the road so he could pass, but instead the horse and rider drew close. She shielded her eyes from the sun and looked up to see Zach.

“Hello, little lady. Never thought I’d see you walking this far up the mountain.” Zach reined his horse in next to her. “What are you doing way up here?”

“Morning, Zach.” She smiled up at him. “I’ve been visiting the family that Annabelle told me about—the Careys. Do you always go riding in the morning?” Cora was beginning to feel the sun’s heat along the nape of her neck, and she wanted to hurry on to the store before she got any warmer and stained her dress at the armpits. Not ladylike at all. Besides, they might need her help, and she’d promised not to be gone too long.

Zach pushed his hat back, crossed his wrists across the saddle horn, and gazed down at her. “I was checking on Granny this morning, and I’m ’bout to head back to town. How about a lift? You’ll get back a lot quicker.”

Cora contemplated his offer. Should she be seen on the back of a man’s horse? It seemed so unconventional, but then she knew out West, people pretty much did what they desired, within limits. “Well . . . all right.”

Zach reached down, and she held on to his arms as he lifted her into the saddle behind him.
He must be mighty strong to be able to haul me onto his horse without getting down and with nary a grunt!
She couldn’t help but notice that his capable hands were calloused and not smooth like Jess’s.

“You comfortable back there?” he asked over his shoulder.

“As well as I can be.” Her skirts hiked up, showing part of her ankle and the edges of her pantalets sticking out from under her petticoats, but it couldn’t be helped. Why, a lady shouldn’t be seen this way, without the proper riding habit! She suppressed a giggle and tried to rearrange her skirts but knew they’d be sorely wrinkled by the time they reached town.

“Wrap your arms around my waist, and we’ll be back at the store in a jiffy,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir!” Cora slid her arms around his hard midsection, feeling the heat from his back press into her. Her face burned hot. Good thing he couldn’t see her. Zach smelled of horseflesh, leather, and the outdoors—very masculine—but it didn’t repel her. His muscles worked beneath his shirt as he flicked the reins, and they set off at a jog downhill in the direction of Central City.

Cora knew she liked Zach with his sometimes impulsive nature and sunny disposition, but she never allowed her mind to linger there for long. From her perch behind him, she glimpsed dark hair curling from underneath his cowboy hat, and she couldn’t mistake a warm stirring in her that upset her normal balance and way of thinking. She ran her tongue around her lips to moisten her mouth—whether the dryness was caused by uneasiness, she wasn’t really sure. How could she acknowledge these feelings—was it attraction?—to a man engaged to another?
And
her friend to boot!
Lord, help me! What has come over me?
She’d be glad when they got to their destination.

As all of this was going through her mind, she wasn’t aware that in the last few minutes the horse had slowed to a walk.

“Well, I’ll be a jumping jackrabbit!” Zach grumbled. “Stomper seems to be out of sorts for some reason. We’ll have to stop and let me take a look. There’s a nice spot right by Clear Creek. He can have a drink and there’s a little shade there, so I’ll see what’s ailing him.” Zach indicated the cottonwood trees alongside the creek bed and led the horse in that direction. Swinging his leg across the front of his saddle, he dismounted and turned to assist her.

With Zach’s hands on either side of her waist, Cora slid from the saddle and found herself within an inch of Zach’s face. She dared to tilt her chin up toward his handsome face, where she found his brown eyes locked on hers. She felt her pulse throb in her neck, and her stomach felt tiny flutters akin to a hummingbird’s flight. His lips parted as he reached out and lifted a lock of hair that had fallen from its pins down her shoulder. He caressed it between his fingers as he leaned in closer, breathing in its fragrance with a languid sigh.

“I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you walking down the road with the sun bouncing off your shiny curls,” he said huskily. His eyes swept over her.

His admission astonished her. Cora thought surely her breathing would stop altogether as he closed the gap between them. Lowering his head, he grazed her mouth lightly, his lips full and soft, until she found herself with enough courage and desire to kiss him back. That’s all it took. Zach turned and braced himself against Stomper’s haunches for support, pulling her to him, and held her tightly against his chest. His broad hands stroked her hair, then slid underneath to cup her neck, gently forcing her head up again to kiss her with an intensity that she shared—and that shocked her.

When Cora finally came to her senses, she placed her palms flat against his smooth leather vest and pushed him away. What had she done? She’d betrayed her friend! Shame burned her, and she could feel her heart throbbing.

“Zach, please. We shouldn’t be doing this,” she cried.

“You felt it too,” he rasped as he released her.

Cora took a step away and clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking, not wanting to admit how she’d felt. “It’s wrong! You and Greta are going to be married,” she said, releasing a shaky breath. A sudden welcoming breeze ruffled Stomper’s mane, and he snorted, tossing his head, reminding them why they’d stopped in the first place. If it wasn’t for the seriousness of the moment, she would’ve laughed.