# The Bride’s Matchmaking Triplets

Regina Scott

Marriage by NecessityWhen mail-order bride Elizabeth Dumont’s intended weds another, her only option is to take a job as nanny to abandoned triplet babies. Though she longs to provide a real home for her three precious charges, as a single woman she can’t adopt. Until her onetime sweetheart, minister Brandon Stillwater, offers a match of convenience…It’s only for the triplets’ sake—that’s what Brandon tells himself. Insecurities once drove him and Elizabeth apart, and now small-town rumors have made them man and wife. And though Brandon doesn’t want to risk his heart this time, he’s not sure he can resist the feelings that are once again starting to bloom for Elizabeth. But can he convince her that this sweet surprise family is more than just convenient?

Marriage by Necessity

When mail-order bride Elizabeth Dumont’s intended weds another, her only option is to take a job as nanny to abandoned triplet babies. Though she longs to provide a real home for her three precious charges, as a single woman she can’t adopt. Until her onetime sweetheart, minister Brandon Stillwater, offers a match of convenience...

It’s only for the triplets’ sake—that’s what Brandon tells himself. Insecurities once drove him and Elizabeth apart, and now small-town rumors have made them man and wife. And though Brandon doesn’t want to risk his heart this time, he’s not sure he can resist the feelings that are once again starting to bloom for Elizabeth. But can he convince her that this sweet surprise family is more than just convenient?

“You’re worried for your reputation.”

Brandon colored. “My reputation will survive. I’m more concerned about yours.”

Elizabeth put her hands on her hips. “Oh, so now you agree that I’m some kind of fortune hunter?”

“No.” He puffed out a breath. “Elizabeth, please. Consider my offer. I will make no demands of you. You and the boys would have a secure home, a place in the community. I can protect you. But if marrying me is unthinkable, even under those terms, I’ll understand.”

“Frankly,” she told him, “I don’t know what to think. I’m willing to believe we’ve both grown since our days together in Cambridge. But a marriage of convenience? I had once hoped for more.”

He nodded. “So had I. But we are different people now. I promise you all my support, all my respect. I hope more will grow with time.”

Time. Might as well say chance. He was asking her to risk her future on him. How could she?

“All I can say,” she told him, “is that I’ll give the matter due consideration. Good day, Pastor.”

* * *

Lone Star Cowboy League: Multiple Blessings

The Rancher’s Surprise Triplets—

Linda Ford, April 2017

The Nanny’s Temporary Triplets—

Noelle Marchand, May 2017

The Bride’s Matchmaking Triplets—

Regina Scott, June 2017

Dear Reader,

Thank you for joining me on Elizabeth and Brandon’s journey. Having written two stories set in Little Horn, the people and place are near and dear to my heart. In 2016, the first series included Stand-In Rancher Daddy by Renee Ryan, A Family for the Rancher by Louise M. Gouge and my own A Rancher of Convenience. If you haven’t read the first two books in the 2017 series, try The Rancher’s Surprise Triplets by Linda Ford and The Nanny’s Temporary Triplets by Noelle Marchand.

When I was pregnant with my first son, the doctor thought I might be carrying twins. My first thought was, how wonderful! My second was, how am I going to take care of two babies? It was probably a good thing it turned out to be one special little boy. My hat’s off to Elizabeth, Louisa and Caroline for so capably loving Jasper, Theo and Eli.

I love to hear from readers. Visit me at reginascott.com, where you can also sign up for an alert to be notified when the next book is out.

Blessings!

Regina Scott

REGINA SCOTT has always wanted to be a writer. Since her first book was published in 1998, her stories have traveled the globe, with translations in many languages. Fascinated by history, she learned to fence and sail a tall ship. She and her husband reside in Washington state with their overactive Irish terrier. You can find her online blogging at nineteenteen.com. Learn more about her at reginascott.com or connect with her on Facebook at Facebook.com/authorreginascott.

The Bride’s Matchmaking Triplets

Regina Scott


www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Yet to all who received Him,

to those who believed in His name,

He gave the right to become children of God.

—John 1:12

To Meryl, Lola Jo and all those who open their hearts to children who need them; and to the Lord, who adopts us all into His family.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Little Horn, Texas, August 1896

“And which of our fine gentlemen have you chosen to be your husband?”

Elizabeth Dumont tried not to cringe at Mrs. Arundel’s question. Instead, she picked up one of her three precious charges and handed a triplet to the lady. One look at little Theo, and Mrs. Arundel’s stern face melted like snow in the sun.

“I’ve actually advertised for a position,” Elizabeth said, bending to pick up the second baby as another woman—Mrs. Tyson, if she remembered correctly—pressed closer, the scent of her lavender cologne like a cloud surrounding them.

The snug boardinghouse room felt even more cramped with her three visitors this morning. How much nicer it would have been to receive the ladies in her own home, as her aunt had done as Cambridge’s most famous hostess. Elizabeth could picture the babies playing on a rug at her feet, tea and cakes waiting on a side table. But right now, this room, with its flowered wallpaper, chintz-covered iron bedstead, porcelain washstand and sturdy walnut dresser, was the best she could do. She was just thankful David and Caroline McKay had given her the three high chairs and large crib they had used when caring for the boys.

“You don’t need a position,” insisted blond-haired Stella Fuller, wife of the local sheriff, as she came forward to take the last baby. “There are plenty of men in this town worth marrying. You just have to pick one. I did.”

Elizabeth had heard Stella had been a mail-order bride, just as Elizabeth had planned to be.

As Stella laughed, little Jasper grinned in her arms. Eli was looking up at Mrs. Tyson, brown eyes wide, as if trying to memorize her kind face. Theo wasn’t nearly so sure about Mrs. Arundel, for his lower lip trembled. He glanced at Elizabeth as if afraid the woman was about to make off with him.

Elizabeth knew the feeling. Ever since she’d been given charge of the boys three days ago, she’d wanted to gather them close, smooth their dark hair, whisper comfort in their ears. Maybe it was because they were so little and helpless, maybe it was because they were orphans like her, but Jasper, Theo and Eli touched her heart more than any of her other charges in her four years of being a governess.

“I hear Clyde Parker is looking for a wife,” Mrs. Arundel offered. “He has a fine ranch not too far from town. He might not object to red hair.” She bounced Theo on her hip, and he frowned at her.

Elizabeth tried not to frown as well. She’d never had anyone complain about her long red hair, now carefully bound up in a bun at the top of her head. Until the time her uncle had been sent to prison for swindling others, she’d received nothing but compliments on her looks. After that, people tended not to want to look at her at all, as if she’d somehow been tainted by the scandal.

“James Forrester needs a wife too,” Mrs. Tyson put in. “His two boys have settled down nicely since they joined the Young Ranchers program.”

“His boys are nearly grown,” Stella pointed out. “I’d think you’d want someone younger to be father to the triplets.” She bent and rubbed her nose against Jasper’s, and he squealed in delight, winning a smile from all the ladies.

Mrs. Tyson looked to Eli and sighed. “I simply cannot understand a mother giving away a child. Has no relative come forward since Bo Stillwater found the boys abandoned at the fair?”

“Not one,” Elizabeth told her, feeling a little guilty for the relief that statement brought. “The Lone Star Cowboy League advertised in newspapers all over the state, even offered a reward for information about the mother, but the one couple who had asked about the situation later sent word they weren’t related after all.”

Theo started fussing then, and Mrs. Arundel hurriedly handed him back to Elizabeth. He leaned his head against her shoulder, thumb going to his mouth. Elizabeth drank in the soft weight in her arms, the scent of fresh soap.

Please, Lord, couldn’t I be their mother?

She stifled a sigh. She’d just asked for the impossible. While she believed God could do anything, He had never moved mountains in her life. He didn’t heal her aunt of the stroke that had left her bedridden or send Elizabeth a new position or husband to support her when her last position ended. Instead, she found herself in Little Horn, a governess-turned-mail-order-bride, whose groom had changed his mind and married another. Any day she’d receive an answer to the advertisements she’d posted seeking a position, and then she would have to give Jasper, Theo and Eli to someone else to raise.

She hugged Theo closer.

“What about Pastor Stillwater?” Stella asked, perking up and causing Jasper to raise his head in expectation. “He’s young enough to be a father.”

Elizabeth’s stomach dipped, and she started shaking her head.

Mrs. Tyson must not have noticed, for she nodded eagerly. “He’s such a nice man. Everyone respects him.” She tickled Eli under his chin, and he squirmed with a bright giggle that made Elizabeth want to hug him close as well.

“We are very fortunate to have a gentleman of Mr. Stillwater’s character as our minister,” Mrs. Arundel agreed, her face becoming all prim and proper. “He comes from near Boston, you know. He is very well connected.”

Oh, but Elizabeth could tell them stories about Brandon Stillwater’s supposedly excellent character. She clamped her mouth shut. Watching her, Theo did the same.

“Compassionate to the less fortunate,” Mrs. Arundel continued.

Focused on himself.

“Kind.”

Selfish.

“Humble.”

Arrogant!

The other ladies were smiling their agreement. Elizabeth dropped her gaze to Theo, whose brows were once more furrowed, as if he was concerned about what he saw in her blue-green eyes. She was concerned about her feelings as well. She’d thought she’d put aside the disappointment and hurt she’d felt when Brandon had abandoned her four years ago.

Then three days ago she’d arrived in Little Horn and encountered the minister as he was marrying her groom to someone else. She still wasn’t sure which had shocked her more: finding David McKay about to wed or seeing Brandon again for the first time in years.

Now Eli started fussing as well, and Mrs. Tyson rocked him, making cooing noises that seemed to calm him. By the way his little mouth pursed, he was trying to mimic her.

“It’s getting close to their next feeding,” Elizabeth explained, going to set Theo in one of the high chairs. It was crammed next to the wheeled handcart the babies’ mother had left them in. Just looking at the care that had gone into the construction of the conveyance told her Jasper, Theo and Eli’s parents had loved them. So did the note that had been found with the babies. When she’d agreed to be their nanny, David McKay had given it to her to read.

To the Lone Star Cowboy League: Please take care of my triplets. I’m widowed and penniless. The ranch is dried out. I can’t stay there and provide for my babies. I’m also very sick and am going to where I was born to meet my Maker. One day, if you could make sure the boys knew I loved them, I’d be obliged. They were born September 30. Was the happiest day of my life.

The league had been seeing to their care ever since. First Louisa Clark, daughter of the town doctor, had taken a turn, but an illness had required the babies to be moved elsewhere. Caroline Murray, the woman who had married David McKay, had been hired to serve as nanny for the babies and David’s daughter, Maggie, but Caroline and the widowed father had fallen in love. When she’d injured her arm saving Maggie from a flash flood, it had been clear a new nanny was needed to care for the orphaned triplets. And Elizabeth, abandoned by yet another man she’d thought she’d marry, had been available and ready to help while she looked for something permanent.

A shame she’d fallen in love as well, with three little boys she had no hope of keeping. Even if she could have persuaded the ranchers of the Lone Star Cowboy League to allow her to adopt the triplets, she had no way to support them. With her skills, she might have applied to be a cook, seamstress or some kind of teacher. But Little Horn had a teacher and seamstress; no one seemed to need a nanny or governess; and the only cooking jobs available would require her to go on cattle drives, spending weeks on the trail, where women were rare and babies could not go.

No, she would have to give up her charges unless God intervened.

A knock sounded on the door, and, with a look to Elizabeth, Mrs. Arundel went to answer. Brandon Stillwater stepped into the room with a compassionate, kind, humble smile Elizabeth was certain must be false. His sandy-brown hair was as thick as she remembered, combed carefully back from the high forehead her friend Florence had called noble. He stood tall, confident and reserved in his brown frock coat: the perfect minister. The look in his quicksilver eyes said he had come to help.

But how could she accept help from a man she could not depend on?

* * *

Brandon smiled at the ladies in his congregation who had come to visit the triplets that morning. Mrs. Arundel puffed up as she usually did in his presence; the feather in the hat resting on her graying curls stood at attention as if even it was determined to have him know its wearer was a proper Christian lady. The brown-haired Mrs. Tyson was beaming at him in such a motherly manner that he was reminded of the sixteen jars of peaches she had provided him recently. Mrs. Fuller, however, had a speculative gleam in her golden-brown eyes that made him wonder what the women had been discussing before he entered.

And then there was Elizabeth. Miss Dumont, some part of him chided. She had made it clear four years ago that she was no longer interested in having him court her, so he would have forfeited the right to use her first name as well. At least, in public. His heart, he feared, still defaulted to Elizabeth.

She was regarding him now, her eyes the exact shade of the Charles River on a sunny day. The fine silk gowns she used to wear had been replaced by a practical dun-colored twill skirt and brown-and-green-striped blouse with the puffy sleeves that were all in fashion, if the ladies of his congregation were any indication. She’d covered her clothes with a cotton apron already decorated by working with the triplets. And she held herself as if she were royalty and everyone else was merely here on her sufferance.

“Come to see the babies too, Pastor?” Mrs. Fuller asked with a grin. “Or someone else?”

He ignored the implication, bending to put his head closer to the baby who was squirming in her arms. This had to be Jasper. He was the most rambunctious, always laughing or playing. Theo, on the other hand, was shy, hugging his nanny close more often than not. And Eli was the watchful one, taking his cue from his brothers. Now Jasper flashed a grin that showed two white teeth before reaching for Brandon.

“And how are our little men today?” he asked, opening his arms to offer to take the baby.

Elizabeth stepped between him and Mrs. Fuller. “Quite energetic, as you can see.” She intercepted Jasper before the baby reached Brandon. Jasper pouted as he peered over her shoulder at him.

Brandon knew the feeling of frustration. It came over him every time he was in Elizabeth’s company.

She set Jasper in the chair next to Theo’s. Mrs. Tyson brought her Eli, who reached out a hand to grasp Theo’s as he sat in the third chair.

“As I was saying, it’s just about feeding time,” Elizabeth told her company, “so it might be best if you leave me to it.” She smiled at the women. “We all know the damage a baby can do to a nice dress.”

The women all chorused agreement, patting down their cotton skirts as they took their leave and headed for the door. Mrs. Arundel paused to eye Brandon.

“A baby can damage a fine suit as well, Pastor,” she informed him, as if he hadn’t already been christened by each of the triplets since his brother had found them at the county fair six weeks ago.

“Then I’ll just have to rely on the Lord’s mercy and the skill of the kind ladies who do my washing,” he replied with a smile.

The older woman glanced at Elizabeth, brows narrowing. “But you can’t stay. It isn’t proper.”

Not proper for him to care about three babies left alone in the world? Even if the little fellows hadn’t tugged at his heart, as the minister of the only church in Little Horn, it was surely his duty to see to their well-being. He was called in to comfort and mediate in most areas, from praying over sick children to finding homes for orphans like Jo and Gil Satler to stopping the feud between Dorothy Hill and Tug Coleman and their families.

“Not proper at all,” Elizabeth agreed, arms crossed over her chest. “And I know Reverend Stillwater is very careful about his reputation.”

There was an edge to her words, as if trying to live up to his calling was somehow shocking. She’d known him since he’d attended divinity school at Harvard. What else would she have expected him to become but a minister?

“It’s all right,” Mrs. Tyson said, stepping back into the room. “I can stay a little longer. You go ahead, Margaret. I’ll join you for tea in a bit.”

With a nod, Mrs. Arundel sailed from the room, her feather high.

And he had a chaperone. He could have told Mrs. Tyson that she had no need for concern. Elizabeth Dumont would have no use for him even if he proposed marriage right then and there.

The older lady went over and clucked at the babies as Elizabeth moved to the dresser against the far wall and picked up one of the jars of applesauce crowding the surface. He was pleased to see the ladies of his congregation had been equally generous to the babies as they were to him. The gingham-topped jars of pears would be from Mrs. Dooley; he had a dozen like them at the parsonage. Betsy McKay had likely donated the stewed plums, the purple glinting in the light. For the triplets’ sake, he hoped the applesauce had come from Lula May McKay, for she was one of the best cooks and canners in the area, not to mention being the leader of the Lone Star Cowboy League.

Elizabeth came back to the high chairs carrying the jar and a silver spoon. Once, she’d presided over an entire table laden with silver and fine china and crystal. Her long red hair had been smoothed into a tight bun, and the emeralds at her ears and throat had called attention to her almond-shaped eyes. The smile she’d offered him across the table had been bright, eager, almost as if she couldn’t wait to learn more about him.

Now her smile seemed brittle as she reached for a wooden chair against one wall. Brandon hurried forward to lift it for her, positioning it in front of the high chairs. Mrs. Tyson nodded approval, but Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him as if suspecting he had ulterior motives.

What did she think he was going to do, pull it out from under her?

Putting her back to him, she perched on the chair. The sunlight from the window across from her blazed fire along her hair and made him wish he still had the right to touch the gleaming tresses.

Help me, Lord. I don’t know what I did to earn her wrath. Show me how to behave toward her.

Elizabeth remained focused on her charges. “All right, little bird,” she said to Jasper. “Open wide your beak.” She dipped the spoon in the jar and brought it closer to him. Jasper opened his mouth for the applesauce.

Theo reached for the spoon and ended up knocking it aside, splashing fruit across the chairs. Eli set up a howl.

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Tyson said. “Let me see if I can find something to clean that up.” She hurried to the dresser and began rummaging through the items left for the babies.

Elizabeth wiped applesauce off her cheek with one finger. “Well, that didn’t work.”

Brandon stepped forward and picked up the crying baby. “I’ll take Eli. Can you handle the other two?”

Her gaze snapped to his, and there was fire in those eyes. “Certainly, Mr. Stillwater. That’s what the Lone Star Cowboy League is paying me to do, remember?”

Of course he remembered. He’d been at the wedding when David McKay had made the suggestion. It was only right that David find some way to support Elizabeth, after she’d come all this way to marry him only to find him marrying another. The rancher had sent her a telegram telling her of the change in plan, but it had never reached her. Still, Brandon couldn’t help wondering why Elizabeth had agreed to marry David in the first place.

Now he merely nodded. “I meant would you prefer me to take Theo as well so you can focus on Jasper,” he said, moving back from the high chairs as much to separate Eli from the food as to distance himself from her anger.

“We’re fine,” she said, turning her attention to the two remaining babies.

“Babies can be such work, the little dears,” Mrs. Tyson put in with a commiserating look to Brandon. She bent to clean up the floor.

Elizabeth moved Jasper and Theo farther apart, then took turns feeding them a spoonful of the applesauce, her movements brisk and efficient. Mrs. Tyson hovered behind, ready to step in if needed. Brandon rocked Eli, the baby warm in his arms. As Eli’s cries quieted, he looked up at Brandon, trusting.

When had Elizabeth lost trust in him?

He’d thought them destined for marriage, partners for life. She’d been everything he could have dreamed of in a wife back then—caring, loving, generous. Even now, she cajoled the babies into eating, praised them for waiting to take their turns and set them to beaming happily. Their brother in his arms reached for her as if he simply had to get closer.

Brandon had felt the same way once. She’d been the one to break things off, to marry a wealthier, more socially prominent man, she’d said. Yet here she was, a mail-order bride of all things. Much as he loved Little Horn with its wide-open spaces and kindhearted people, the community was a far cry from the society she’d been raised in near Boston.

So what had happened to bring Elizabeth Dumont back into his life again?

Chapter Two

Elizabeth forced her shaking hand to steady on the spoon. How dare Brandon question her ability to care for the triplets? She was a good nanny, for all she had not imagined herself in the role. Anyone might have found three babies a little challenging.

Though, she had to admit, he looked remarkably comfortable dealing with the boys. He was rocking Eli back and forth, the baby gazing up at him as if he was the most important person in the world.

She’d looked at him that way once.

She would never forget the day they’d met. Her aunt Evangeline had been hosting one of her famous dinner parties. It was well-known around Cambridge that Mrs. Dumont, wife of the influential financier, welcomed only the most interesting people to her table, so an invitation was cause to preen. As her niece, Elizabeth had dined with senators, adventurers, novelists, artists and scientists. That evening, attendees around the white damask-draped table had included the mayor and his wife, a man who had invented some sort of circuit for conducting electricity, an award-winning poet and the dean of the divinity school with his most promising student.

Brandon Stillwater.

As the least most notable person in the room, besides her, he would have had every right to sit quietly, speak only when directly addressed. Indeed, he had been quiet the first part of the meal. Then the inventor, a Mr. Lombard, had begun a paean to man’s ingenuity.

“Why, even now, in New York, a pneumatic system brings warm air in winter and cool air in summer,” he boasted, the sleeve of his black dress coat coming perilously close to dipping into his creamed asparagus as he waved a hand.

“Amazing,” the mayor proclaimed. “We may have to rethink our futures, gentlemen. Science seems to have the upper hand.”

Brandon had merely offered them all a charming smile as he reached for his crystal glass. “I think I’ll stick with the Author of invention instead of the implementer.” And he’d calmly taken a sip as if giving them all a moment to think about what he’d said.

How could she not be drawn to such a man? He was only a year older than her, yet he seemed so confident, so sure of who he was and what he was meant to do. She’d envied him that.

“Ready for this little fellow?” he asked her now, smiling on the infant in his arms. She remembered how it felt to be cradled close, those strong arms around her, making her feel safe, loved.

Elizabeth scooped up a baby and shoved him at Brandon, anything to stop these memories. “Here,” she said. “I’ll take Eli. You take Jasper.”

If he was surprised by the urgency in her voice, he didn’t show it. But as they exchanged babies, his fingers brushed her sleeve and a tingle ran up her arm.

Why was she still so aware of him after all these years? Even as she began to feed Eli, Theo watching them, she felt Brandon beside her. He held each baby so gently, every movement effortless. No other man had ever made her feel that she could rely on him no matter what.

A shame that feeling had turned out to be false.

She offered Eli another spoonful of applesauce, which he gobbled down. The men she had counted on had proven singularly unreliable. Her uncle, legendary for making fortunes, had been exposed as a swindler, stealing from clients to increase his coffers. The men who had flocked to her aunt’s table had quickly distanced themselves from scandal. The gentlemen who had seemed interested in courting her had followed suit. And Brandon...

Really needed to leave her room before she forgot herself and gave him a piece of her mind!

“You needn’t wait around, Pastor,” she said without looking at him. “The triplets and I are fine. We have Mrs. Tyson to help. You’ve done your duty by looking in on us.”

Mrs. Tyson smiled at her as she went to hang up the dirty cleaning rag. Brandon didn’t say anything, but his arm brushed her shoulder as he set Jasper back into the high chair. She turned without thinking, and her gaze met his. His silver eyes should have looked cold, forbidding, but now they drew her in like cool water on a hot day.

“Seeing to the well-being of those we care about is never a duty, Miss Dumont,” he murmured. “It is a privilege.” He held her gaze a moment longer, as if making sure she heard him. Such a heartfelt look, with his lips turned down in sympathy. She should agree, smile back. But she knew his tricks now. She was neither an awestruck girl nor a member of his flock who needed schooling. Elizabeth turned her face resolutely toward the babies. A moment later, she heard the door close behind her.

Mrs. Tyson came to lay a hand on her shoulder. “Pastor Stillwater is a good man. I’m sure he was only trying to help.”

Had she looked as if she was about to breathe fire at the minister? She certainly felt as if she could. Instead, Elizabeth gave the lady a bright smile. “But why should I trouble your pastor when I have all you lovely ladies to help?”

Mrs. Tyson’s round face turned a pleased pink. “We are delighted to help you, dear.” She bent and picked up Theo, whose eyes were already drifting closed. “Such darling boys. They make me miss my own sons.”

Elizabeth was almost afraid to ask, but it seemed the right thing to do. “What happened to your boys?”

Mrs. Tyson straightened slowly, then carried the baby toward the nearby crib. “They are grown men now. They had to leave to find work during the drought, but I have hopes they might return soon. In the meantime, if you need anything, please send word.” She laid Theo in the crib and smiled down at him a moment before helping Elizabeth transfer the other two into the crib as well. Then Elizabeth saw her out.

As she shut the door behind Mrs. Tyson, Elizabeth drew in a breath. At least that was over. Glancing back, she saw that all three boys had dozed off. In the silence, she could hear the clock ticking on the dresser.

Peace. Quiet.

Normally, that would be a blessing. Caring for the triplets was exhilarating and exhausting. She appreciated the moments when she could relax. But now all she could think about was Brandon Stillwater and the life she had once known.

Not for the first time, she wished Aunt Evangeline was still alive. Her aunt, who had raised Elizabeth after her parents’ death when she was a toddler, had always encouraged her to dream big.

“You could be an explorer, discovering new plants and animals,” she’d said, excitement dancing in her green eyes. “Or a novelist, unleashing the potential of the human heart. Only the best for you, my dear Elizabeth.”

Sometimes, sitting around the dinner table with people so famous and talented, she had thought she had found her calling, to be a society hostess like her aunt, bringing people together, sharing knowledge, encouragement. Other times, she wondered. Why must she be the one to listen to other people’s adventures? Why couldn’t she have adventures of her own as her aunt suggested?

Brandon had seemed to understand when she’d emboldened herself to confess her yearnings. After that first dinner, he had called whenever he could slip away from his studies. Studying, it seemed, wasn’t too difficult for him. They’d talk in her aunt’s opulent sitting room, take walks in the nearby park. They had been strolling beside an ornamental pond in the center of the park one Sunday afternoon when she’d told him she wished she might do something more.

“My brother, Bo, says the same thing,” he’d answered, bending to pick up a stone from the path and toss it into the pond.

She hadn’t met his brother yet. She hadn’t met anyone in his family, although she knew his mother had passed away and his father was an invalid. Aunt Evangeline said Mr. Stillwater senior was a fine gentleman who had run a prosperous business in Cambridge. Elizabeth had wondered why Brandon hadn’t introduced her, but she was certain it was only a matter of time.

“And what sort of adventures does your brother want to have?” she asked, lifting her green silk skirts away from a puddle in the path.

Brandon smiled. “He wants to move to Texas and build a cattle ranch. He’s been studying under a rancher here, and he thinks he’s ready to take on the frontier.”

“Like a cowboy in the dime novels?” Elizabeth grinned. “How marvelous! What could be more thrilling than fighting desperadoes to carve a home in the wilderness?”

Brandon tossed another rock in the pond with a plunk. “Well, the Texas Rangers make short work of any desperadoes, from what I understand. But Bo will certainly be carving at the wilderness.” He glanced her way. “He wants me to go with him.”

To Texas? The image that came to mind, of a woman in gingham skirts shooting her own dinner as she rode across the plains, was brave and bold and a little scary. She wanted adventure, but perhaps she ought to start with something more tame.

She’d linked arms with Brandon. “Too bad you’re already being considered for a position at St. Matthew’s. We can cheer your brother on from here. Just think how much fun it will be to sit around the hearth and read his postcards.”

She’d never dreamed necessity would drive her to this Texas town, or that she’d discover Brandon here as well.

She went to the window now and gazed out at Little Horn. The boardinghouse was near the end of Second Street, with the church and school among the buildings opposite. She could see the doctor’s house between them. Louisa, the doctor’s daughter who had first cared for the triplets, had married Brandon’s brother, Bo. The two men were twins, it seemed. Why hadn’t she known that? Why hadn’t she been good enough to meet his family?

Why hadn’t she been good enough to be his wife?

She could still see Florence’s face as her friend had relayed the hurtful message a few days after the scandal about her uncle had become common knowledge.

“He releases you from any agreement you might have thought the two of you had,” she’d said, pretty face scrunched as if she’d felt Elizabeth’s pain. “As a minister, he must protect his reputation. He hopes you’ll understand.”

But she hadn’t. He’d claimed to love her. Though he hadn’t proposed yet, he’d given her every indication that he would do so soon. They’d shared a tender kiss that had left her breathless.

She was still the same person, for all her uncle had been sent to prison, his properties foreclosed to pay off those he’d swindled. Why must she be punished for his actions?

She’d wanted to go to Brandon, beg him to reconsider. If there were those who would condemn him for associating with the family of a convict, surely there were others who would praise him for his charity. But Florence had convinced her that Brandon would not see her, so she had soldiered on alone.

And Brandon had headed west to become pastor of the church in Little Horn. His reputation must have remained spotless, for everyone in the area seemed to adore him.

Eli whimpered in his sleep, recalling her to her duty. The little sweetheart was growing another tooth on the bottom, the pearly nub just breaking through, and she knew his tender gums kept him from sleeping soundly.

Her heart, it seemed, was just as tender when it came to Brandon Stillwater. Only this time, she would listen to her head instead, and it cautioned her to keep her distance.

* * *

How was he supposed to keep his distance? Brandon’s legs ate up the dusty ground as he headed for his next appointment at the railway station. By word and deed, Elizabeth made it clear she had no use for him. But he was the minister. Having no parents, Jasper, Theo and Eli were under his care, for all he could not see to their needs on a moment-by-moment basis. He had every right and responsibility to check on them, to make sure they were safe and well cared for.

He couldn’t deny she was doing a good job. The boys seemed content in her company, happy even, especially after being shuttled between houses since their mother had abandoned them. Elizabeth was good to them, efficient, yet gentle, taking the time to talk to and touch her little charges as if she were their mother.

She’d make a marvelous mother and a wonderful wife.

A wife for someone other than him. He had to remember that.

The best thing he could do was keep busy, which shouldn’t be hard. He had a long list of tasks today. Amos Crenshaw had asked him to stop by to discuss the house the railway was building for the stationmaster and his family. Brandon ought to check on Tug Coleman and see how the widowed rancher was faring after the wildfire that had destroyed part of his spread. Then he’d swing over to Dorothy Hill’s to make sure the feisty widow and her brood were helping repair the damage as she’d promised. He had a sermon to develop before Sunday and the Harvest Festival to plan.

But even after Amos gave him some excellent news he knew would make David McKay rejoice, Brandon’s feet drew him back to the boardinghouse that afternoon. This time, he didn’t even have to go inside, for Elizabeth and the babies were out front. She’d managed to wrestle the handcart down the stairs and was just rearranging the babies inside it, back bent and glorious hair hidden under a straw hat. But it was the person standing next to her that had Brandon hurrying forward to help.

Constance Hickey, church pianist and all-around busybody, was lecturing Elizabeth as he reached their sides.

“And cod-liver oil,” she said, shaking a bony finger at the babies as if scolding them. “One dose in the morning and one at night. It will help them develop strong constitutions.”

The babies all nodded, but Brandon thought it was more likely they were following the movement of Mrs. Hickey’s finger than agreeing with her recommendation.

“I’ll be sure to bear that in mind,” Elizabeth said. Brandon thought he might be the only person in Little Horn who would have detected the annoyance under the polite response.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Hickey,” he greeted the older lady. “How kind of you to take an interest in our triplets.”

The thin woman raised her head, aiming her pointed nose in his direction. “And did not our Lord demand that we help the poor and lowly like Miss Dumont?”

Elizabeth’s lovely lips tightened. It had to have been one of the first times she’d heard herself referred to as either poor or lowly.

“Oh, I doubt our Lord would have considered Miss Dumont in need of our charity,” he told the older woman. “Her skills in caring for the triplets are notable.”

Mrs. Hickey frowned. “And exactly where did she learn, a young lady like herself? Has no one checked her references?”

Brandon knew David McKay must have some knowledge, or he would never have sent for her when he’d thought he needed a mail-order bride to help raise his daughter, Maggie. But Brandon hadn’t been able to figure out a way to ask without raising questions.

Elizabeth cast Mrs. Hickey a glance. “I was a governess in Boston, and the household had two younger children along with my older charges. The nanny and I often assisted each other.”

Mrs. Hickey blinked her blue eyes. “A shame you were discharged.”

Where had that rumor started? Brandon frowned, and the babies gurgled as if in protest, but Elizabeth raised her head.

“I wasn’t discharged,” she told Mrs. Hickey, voice as tight as her look. “My charges were about to go off to school, and the youngest ones were not yet ready for a governess. And then my only living relative, my aunt Evangeline, died, and I simply wanted to be somewhere else.”

So she truly was alone in the world, like the triplets.

“I’m sorry to hear about your aunt,” Brandon murmured. “She was a grand lady.”

Mrs. Hickey turned to him, gaze avid. “Oh, did you know her, Pastor?”

“No!” Jasper declared.

While Mrs. Hickey frowned at the baby, Elizabeth’s look shot to Brandon, panicked. So she didn’t want the town to know about their past. He hadn’t been overly eager to share either. How did you admit that the only woman you’d ever wanted to marry had refused you? The fact called his character into question, or hers.

“Everyone from the Boston area knew Mrs. Evangeline Dumont,” Brandon said, and he felt Elizabeth relax. “The lady set a fine table, with only the best on it and around it.”

Elizabeth returned her gaze to the babies, who beamed at her. “She never lost her interest in people, even though the stroke left her unable to do the things she loved most.”

The stroke hadn’t just affected her aunt. It seemed to him Elizabeth had chosen a path much narrower than she’d once dreamed. All of society had been open to her, yet here she was, focused on three little boys. Why?

No way to ask that question with Mrs. Hickey watching them both so eagerly.

“Ah, I fear I have detained you, my dear Mrs. Hickey,” Brandon told her. “I’m sure you had business elsewhere this afternoon, industrious lady that you are.”

Her smile wavered. She couldn’t very well admit she had nothing better to do than vex Elizabeth. “Yes, well,” she said, taking a step back. “I am very busy. You will heed my warning about the cod-liver oil, won’t you, Miss Dumont?”

“I will give it due consideration,” Elizabeth promised her.

With another glance between Elizabeth and Brandon, the pianist turned and headed toward the doctor’s office, very likely intending to instruct the physician on some point now. The boys waved their fists in farewell.

“Do not tell me she means well,” Elizabeth threatened Brandon, “for I won’t believe it.”

“She delights in knowing more than anyone else, about everything,” he said. “So long as you remember that, you won’t have any trouble with her.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “You must not have noticed the way she looked at you. You better watch your reputation, Pastor. You wouldn’t want to be seen with a discharged governess who was left at the altar. People might talk.”

“I’ve never been particularly concerned about what anonymous people have to say,” Brandon told her. He bent and seized the handles on the cart, and the triplets started bouncing up and down in anticipation of the ride. “Now, where can I take you and the boys?”

That look in her eyes told him she would have preferred to tell him where to go, and it was as far away from her as possible. But she nodded across the street. “The triplets and I have been cooped up in the boardinghouse for three days now. I was hoping to cross to the grass and let them out on the quilt. If you would be so kind, Reverend?”

Of course she wouldn’t call him Brandon. They were supposed to be strangers. Besides, times had changed since they’d last known each other. They had changed. He wasn’t a man bent on courting her. He was her minister, just as he was the minister for everyone in Little Horn. His only concern should be for her spiritual growth and comfort. If she had been anyone else, he would have done his best to charm her, putting her at ease. But his winning ways no longer seemed to work on Elizabeth.

So he trundled the cart across the rutted street for the grassy field between the parsonage and the church, the creak of the wheels playing them along.

The good citizens of Little Horn had designed the church grounds, like the church and parsonage, with the community’s needs in mind. Between the two buildings lay a sweep of grass, wildflowers nodding here and there, just waiting for a church picnic or baseball game. Amos Crenshaw kept it in order, even going so far as to carry water to it during the drought so the grass wouldn’t dry out. Brandon positioned the cart in the shade of an old live oak and helped her spread the large brightly colored quilt beside it. Then they arranged the triplets in the middle.

At nearly eleven months old, they were crawling well. Jasper, as usual, was the most adventurous. Elizabeth must have realized it, for she positioned herself between the tree and the edge of the quilt as if to prevent his escape. Rolling over on his side, Eli tugged at a block of red gingham on the quilt as if eager to get to the grass beneath. Theo sat and regarded the nearby daisies as if suspecting they had designs on his brothers. Jasper set off across the quilt and paused a moment beside Elizabeth before attempting to scale her lap.

She smiled at him, making the day brighter. “Clever boy. You wait and see, Pastor. Jasper will turn out to be an explorer.”

Brandon smiled. “I think Eli’s going to end up mayor of Little Horn by the way he manages his brothers.”

She laughed, and the sound bathed his heart in light. “Can’t you just see them,” she asked, “tall and strong, crowding in the doorway with daisies from the fields, come to wish their mother happy birthday?”

So she could still dream. He remembered the hopes she used to share—visiting Europe, opening a school for girls, driving a carriage across the whole country.

“What happened, Elizabeth?” he asked. “Why did you become a governess in Cambridge? I thought you wanted to marry.”

Her sunny smile turned stormy. “I did want to marry. The man I’d hoped would be my groom abandoned me. Or don’t you remember telling me your reputation was more important than I was, Mr. Stillwater?”

Chapter Three

She must have looked as angry as she felt, for Brandon recoiled from her. So did the triplets. Jasper’s face puckered. Eli curled next to him. Theo stuck his thumb in his mouth, a tear rolling down one chubby cheek.

Brandon reached out and scooped him onto his lap. “Easy there, Theo. Elizabeth isn’t angry with you. She couldn’t be. She thinks you’re going to grow into a fine man. I’m the one she doesn’t like. She said she couldn’t marry a country parson.”

Elizabeth stared at him. His eyes looked as sad as Theo’s.

“I never said I didn’t want to marry you,” she protested. “And I certainly never called you a country parson. You were going to serve at St. Matthew’s, a fine respectable position.”

Theo leaned against him as if ready to defend him. Brandon patted his shoulder. “You knew I wanted to go to Texas with Bo. And Texas wasn’t good enough for you.”

She spread her hands. “Look at me, Brandon. Here I am, in Texas!”

Her voice was rising again. Jasper let out a squawk as if determined to be louder. Eli’s gaze darted between her and Brandon. Theo plastered himself against Brandon’s chest. Even the bushes at the edge of the lawn rustled as if in agitation.

She forced herself to calm, to speak quietly and evenly. “I don’t understand why you have that impression of me. I never said money and position were important.”

He raised a brow. “That’s not how John Hood’s sister explained it.”

Poor Florence, to be caught in the middle of such a difficult situation. She’d been as caring as her brother, who had been in Brandon’s class at the divinity school.

“I’m sure it wasn’t easy for her,” Elizabeth said. “When my uncle was arrested, everything changed. I was so caught up in caring for Aunt Evangeline that I couldn’t do more than survive each day. Some of Aunt Evangeline’s more colorful acquaintances stuck by our side, but Florence was the only person who came by regularly.”

He nodded. “She was the one who brought me the news about your uncle’s arrest and your aunt’s stroke. I was surprised you didn’t come yourself.”

There was more pain than censure in his voice. Just thinking about that dark time made an ache rise inside her. She reached for Eli and pulled him onto her lap. The baby rested his head against her, a comforting bundle.

“I couldn’t leave Aunt’s side, so I asked Florence to help me reach you. I thought you would want to know what was happening, that you’d want to help. But Florence said you couldn’t risk being seen with me.”

He frowned. “Why would there have been any risk to me by being seen in your company? You weren’t the criminal. Your uncle was.”

She could not have misunderstood Florence. Her friend had been quite clear on the message. Her face had been anguished, dark curls trembling, and she’d barely been able to force the words from her lips.

“You were hoping for an appointment at a prestigious church, Brandon,” Elizabeth reminded him. “Having a wife associated with scandal might have hindered that.”

“I never considered that,” he insisted. “I wanted to go to you, help you any way I could, but Florence said you refused to see me. Because of the funds needed to pay for your aunt’s care, you had no choice but to marry a better connected, wealthier man. It sounded as if you had him all picked out. With your aunt’s parties, you had plenty of candidates to choose from, each more eligible than me.”

What was he talking about? Hadn’t he realized she had looked at no one else once she’d seen him? “I didn’t have another groom in mind. Florence knew that.”

He cocked his head. “I thought you needed money to pay for your aunt’s care.”

“I did. That’s why I became a governess. All my income went to fund nurses.”

Now all three babies were watching her, and Eli’s and Theo’s lips were trembling as if in sympathy. Jasper looked more as if he wanted to fight her battles instead, little hands fisted.

Brandon straightened, rubbing his free hand along his pant leg. “I don’t understand. You needed me. I wanted to help. What went wrong?”

What indeed? It was easy for him to claim all innocence now. Yet she could not convince herself he would lie to her face. No member of his congregation was present. The triplets weren’t likely to remember this conversation by the time they could speak enough to tell anyone about it. And no one in Little Horn would believe her over their beloved pastor. Why posture?

Elizabeth made herself shrug, then snuggled Eli closer. “It seems to have been very easy for us to believe the worst of each other. I’d say our attachment was never meant to be.”

He frowned as if unwilling to believe that. How could he deny it? Back then, she’d been unsure of herself, awed by everyone she had met at her aunt’s table. Why would the marvelous Brandon Stillwater find her worthy to be his wife?

But she was no longer that wide-eyed girl with dreams bigger than her capabilities. Now she knew just what she was made of, had been tested and survived. Now she knew what she needed.

A steady position or a steady husband. Brandon Stillwater would be willing to offer neither.

* * *

Once again she was calm, composed, the baby cradled in her arms, but this time Brandon thought Eli was more of a shield to keep him at a distance. Jasper, leaning on her legs, made another attempt to crawl over them for the freedom beyond, and Brandon grabbed the baby’s foot and pulled him into the scope of his arms. All the while he tried to orient himself to a world that had shifted.

Our attachment was never meant to be.

Though he’d thought he’d put it all behind him four years ago, though he was certain he’d moved forward with his life, something inside him rebelled. He’d believed her need for position and privilege had driven them apart. She seemed to think his need for a spotless reputation was to blame.

She was right—it had been easy to believe those statements and to think the worst of each other. Only, he knew that her assumptions about him were false.

Florence had been anguished when she’d brought him Elizabeth’s answer to his plea to reconsider her decision to throw him over. A slender, dark-haired girl with the appropriately pious attitude of the daughter and sister of clergy, she’d gazed up at him, blue eyes shining with tears, fingers pressed against his arm.

“I’m so sorry, Brandon, but Elizabeth is adamant that you will not suit. She needs a man of wealth and position to counter this scandal if she is to regain her place in society. Knowing how she was raised, I’m sure you understand.”

He’d understood. His family did not take part in society, for all his father had once been considered a gentleman. Marcus Stillwater had managed his affairs well. Everyone who met him at civic functions and during business considered him a determined, successful man.

But his father had doubted himself—his abilities, his place in other people’s affections. Brandon had never been sure why. His grandfather had died when he and Bo were little, but family stories told of a harsh man. Or perhaps the responsibility of building his business had weighed on their father. Either way, to bolster his flagging confidence, his father had cut down every other member of the family. Nothing Brandon’s mother could do was good enough. Nothing Brandon and Bo did was acceptable. It seemed only by making others feel small had his father been able to feel big. If Brandon had had a nickel for every time his father had called him worthless, he might actually have been the wealthy man Elizabeth had needed.

Given that upbringing, Brandon could well imagine he wasn’t good enough for her. Even while they were courting he’d wondered why she would settle for a divinity student when the very best of Boston society came to call. Still, he’d thought himself genuinely in love, had convinced himself she felt the same way. Florence had tried to console him, but he had pushed her and everyone else away, determined only to finish his studies and escape the stifling confines of Cambridge.

“I don’t believe our love was never meant to be, Elizabeth,” he told her, alternating his gaze between the babies he jostled in his arms. Both were regarding him as if fascinated to hear how his story would end. “Circumstances prevented it from continuing. That’s all.”

He could hear her sigh. “Perhaps you’re right. But those circumstances haven’t changed. I still need a way to support myself, and you still have a responsibility to your congregation.”

A responsibility he took seriously. His kitchen was stocked by well-meaning young ladies who had hopes of one day changing their name to Stillwater. But he had an inkling that being married to the local minister would not be the glorious position they all envisioned. His wife would have to be willing to have her life interrupted for the illness, injury and death of others, the destruction of other people’s hopes, their property. She’d have to celebrate every wedding, birth and civic commemoration, be part of planning each church activity and contribute to every charitable cause. Women for miles around would call on her, expecting to find her house perfect, her life perfect.

He’d seen his mother wilt under impossible expectations, although of a different kind. He did not feel comfortable foisting that burden on another.

“For the moment, you have a way to support yourself,” he said, nodding to the babies. “But I’ll ask around, see if there’s another family in the area who needs a governess.”

Some of the fire seemed to have left her. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

“It would be my pleasure. And I hope, Elizabeth, that, whatever our differences in the past, we can be cordial now.”

He chanced a glance her way to find himself slipping into the blue-green depths of her eyes.

“Cordial,” she said, and the word held a world of doubt.

“Friends, even,” he insisted, giving the babies an extra jiggle that made Jasper smile. “I am the minister of Little Horn, after all. I’m expected to be friendly with everyone.”

The fire flashed once more, as if she was building up a head of steam.

“Well, certainly we should be friends, Pastor Stillwater,” she drawled. “After all, I wouldn’t want to damage your reputation.”

Brandon blew out a breath. She simply could not accept his word that his reputation was not the issue. “This isn’t about my standing in the community,” he tried again. “It’s about what’s best for the triplets.”

Her look eased, and she returned her gaze to Eli, whose eyes were closed as she rocked him in the warm shade. “I suppose you’re right. They get upset even when I raise my voice.”

So did he. He would much rather put a smile on her face, make her laugh, than be cause for consternation.

“Then let’s start over,” Brandon suggested. “Pretend we just met.” He gave her a nod. “How do you do, Miss Dumont? I’m Brandon Stillwater, the pastor of the Little Horn church. I’d shake your hand, but mine seem to be full at the moment.”

She shifted on the quilt, the movement making Eli crack open his eyes a moment.

“A pleasure to meet you, Reverend,” she said softly, as if afraid to believe they could return to anything approaching normality. “I’m Elizabeth Dumont, and I have the honor of looking after these three delightful gentlemen.” Her smile faded. “At least for now.”

Both of Brandon’s babies were nodding off as well. He crouched and laid each on the quilt. Elizabeth did the same, and he pulled up the edge to cover them all.

“What will happen to them after I’m gone?” she asked, straightening as he did.

She was leaving? Well, of course she’d leave if she couldn’t find employment in Little Horn. Why should that fact concern him?

“David McKay is planning to set up a children’s home,” he told her, offering her his hand to help her rise. Her fingers were supple in his, yet they had a strength he didn’t remember from before. “I learned today we may have a house.”

Behind him, he heard a rustling sound, as if something moved among the bushes at the end of the yard. Before he could turn and look, Elizabeth brightened. “Oh, that would be wonderful.”

“It won’t be ready for a while,” he cautioned, focusing on her. “The railroad is building a new home for our stationmaster, Mr. Crenshaw. As he won’t be needing the one he had built before he became stationmaster, he’s offered to donate it to the church. It will need to be renovated first. Those funds will have to come from the Lone Star Cowboy League, as the church benevolence fund is empty after seeing to those affected by the drought.”

“Will you need someone to run it?” she asked, cinnamon-colored brows up in obvious hope.

Brandon shook his head. “I’m fairly sure the league will want a couple, and I quite agree. It won’t just be the boys, you see. Other orphans are scattered about the area, living with distant relatives or friends of the family who are hard-pressed to care for them. The house will be full before we even open the doors.”

“I suppose it will be good for the boys to have other children around,” she allowed, tucking a strand of red hair back behind her ear. “I’ve seen how much they enjoy Maggie’s company.”

David McKay’s eight-year-old daughter, Maggie, was something of an adventurer, climbing out of her bedroom window to escape scolds, swimming in the stream on their ranch with the skill of a fish. David had told him how she’d come to regard the triplets as her little brothers and had been inconsolable when they had to leave the Windy Diamond, the McKay ranch. She’d found solace only because she’d gained a mother in Caroline.

“They’ll have brothers and sisters at the children’s home,” Brandon promised Elizabeth. “And I still haven’t given up hope that someone will want to adopt all three.”

Something flickered across her face, and he wasn’t sure if it was emotion or a shadow from the tree.

“They’re such darlings,” she murmured, gaze on her slumbering charges. “I can see Jasper as the leader, guiding his brothers. Eli is going to be the planner, determining how to make Jasper’s ideas real. And Theo will be the one who comes to his mother and confesses all before anyone gets into trouble.”

He smiled. “Bo accused me of that often enough. Our mother had the sweetest look. One moment in her company, and you just had to unburden yourself.”

“You have the same kind of smile that invites people to confide in you,” she said. “I’m sure everyone in your congregation finds it easy to talk to you.”

She had, once. He could remember long walks through the park sharing hopes for the future, sitting on her aunt’s front porch talking until the stars brightened the night sky. Brandon shook his head. “You better be careful, Miss Dumont. I think you just gave me a compliment.”

She raised her chin. “It wasn’t a compliment. It was an opinion. After all, Mr. Stillwater, we just met, remember.” She batted her lashes at him, and Brandon grinned.

“Ahem.”

He glanced up to find Mrs. Hickey standing at the corner of the parsonage with Mrs. Bachmeier and Amos’s wife, Susan, crowded on either side, eyes wide. Behind him, he thought he heard footsteps hurrying away, but when he glanced back, he saw no one.

“It’s time for us to clean the parsonage, Pastor,” Mrs. Hickey announced, although he was certain the ladies had just been in to sweep and dust earlier in the week.

Brandon offered them all a grateful smile as he turned to face them. “Very considerate of you, but everything seems fine at the moment.”

Mrs. Hickey drew herself up. “Nonsense. We cannot have our minister living in squalor. Cleanliness is next to godliness. Everyone knows that.”

Brandon inclined his head. “I applaud your determination. Since you feel so strongly, do what you must to rid my house of any sign of squalor, ladies. I’ll just help Miss Dumont return the triplets to the boardinghouse.”

Mrs. Hickey brightened. “Oh, is Miss Dumont having trouble managing the little foundlings? Perhaps we should speak to Lula May McKay about finding another nanny. I always thought they would do better with one of our own instead of a stranger.”

He was ready to protest that Elizabeth was no stranger, but she gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Right. She still refused to acknowledge their past in public.

“Miss Dumont has the trust of the Lone Star Cowboy League,” Brandon assured the women. “And mine.”

Mrs. Bachmeier and Mrs. Crenshaw nodded, but Mrs. Hickey looked disappointed. Beside him, Elizabeth offered him a smile that made him insufferably pleased with his ability to ease troubled waters.

“Well, hurry along, then,” Mrs. Hickey ordered. “I’m sure we’ll have all kinds of questions about what to do with various items. Unless, of course, you’d just like us to sort things willy-nilly.”

Brandon nearly groaned aloud. The last time Mrs. Hickey had organized his study, he hadn’t been able to find his sermon notes for days.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised the ladies before turning to Elizabeth. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I can see you have very important things to do, Pastor.” Her voice hinted of a laugh.

He did have things to do, and now he had to do them with an audience. He glanced down at the babies. All three had opened their eyes and were regarding him with such seriousness he had a feeling he was supposed to beg their pardon too.

He’d been concerned about his congregation, he’d been concerned about the triplets. Now he found himself more concerned about Elizabeth’s future. He knew it wouldn’t be easy finding a governess position among the ranching families surrounding Little Horn.

But if gossip about him and Elizabeth began to spread, she might never find an employer. The Lone Star Cowboy League might even have to rescind the offer for her to care for the boys.

It very much looked as if Elizabeth Dumont had become his responsibility. A responsibility that, for once in his life, he wasn’t sure he was capable of meeting.

Chapter Four

Elizabeth thought of Brandon many times over the next few days. He wanted a fresh start, a chance for the two of them to begin again as friends. She ought to accommodate. For as long as she was in Little Horn, he would be her minister. He’d promised to help her find a new position. And he clearly cared about the boys. But it was difficult shifting her heart away from the hurt of their parting four years ago.

As Sunday rolled around, she knew she had to try harder. Like it or not, she realized, a minister’s reputation was important to his calling. She truly didn’t want to give anyone the impression she was disappointed in Brandon. She put on her best dress, a peach-colored taffeta with black lace in the center of the bodice and double rows of black bric-a-brac trimming the long sleeves and graceful hem. She combed her hair up and covered it with a peach-colored hat with a black lace veil. It was foolish, really—one baby finger poked in the wrong place would send the confection tumbling from her head, but for some reason she felt like taking the risk and looking more like a lady than a servant for once.

It must have worked, for one of the older men in the boardinghouse spotted her as she stepped out into the hallway and volunteered to haul the cart down the stairs for her. His roommate offered to carry two of the boys while she took the third.

“Cute little fellers,” the man who had carried the cart said with a smile that spread his thick mustache. He bent to chuck Theo under the chin as the boy snuggled in Elizabeth’s arms. The baby promptly burst into tears, and the man backed away, panic on his rugged face.

“It’s all right,” Elizabeth said, to him and to Theo. “He’s just a little shy.”

The ladies of Little Horn, on the other hand, were anything but shy as Elizabeth crossed the street to the churchyard. They clustered around the cart the moment she bumped it against the steps. She wasn’t sure what to do with the thing, but Mr. Tyson, a burly man with dark hair and kind eyes, helpfully angled it under the steps.

His wife took Jasper. Annie Hill, a cheerful young blonde who helped Louisa at the doctor’s office, took Eli, and Elizabeth kept Theo. His button-brown eyes looked out of a troubled face as they all found seats near each other in the crowded church. Across the way, the boys’ previous nannies, Caroline and Louisa, smiled a welcome, each sitting beside her new husband. Elizabeth had to force herself not to look twice at Bo Stillwater, for he was identical to Brandon, sandy-haired, tall and strong.

She made herself look at the church instead. The last time she had been inside the Little Horn chapel was when she’d discovered David McKay with Caroline. Then her gaze had been all for the couple and the minister in the wedding. Now she took note of the polished walnut pews running on either side of the aisle, the fresh whitewashed walls and the simple wood cross behind the altar. She recognized the trim figure of Constance Hickey as the woman marched up to them.

“Here,” she said, thrusting three wrinkled pieces of paper at her. “I found these on the piano. They’re clearly for you.” She peered closer. “Who do you think left them?”

Elizabeth had no idea. Balancing Theo on her hip, she shuffled through the simple pencil drawings. The first showed a sad-faced woman bending over a cart, the babies watchful, with pies in a circle all around them. Elizabeth had heard the story about how Brandon’s brother had found the babies in the pie tent of the county fair. Was the woman the boys’ mother? The picture was too crude to tell anything of her features or coloring.

The second drawing showed two women with the babies between them. Caroline and Louisa, perhaps? The last showed a woman and a man in a frock coat, holding hands, and the babies circling them. Did someone know about her and Brandon’s past? She willed herself not to blush.

Annie looked around her arm, and Elizabeth hurriedly folded the sheets closed.

“I know,” the girl said. “Those must have come from the Good Samaritan.”

Mrs. Hickey perked up.

“Very likely,” Mrs. Tyson said with a nod. “Someone has been doing good deeds for the triplets since they arrived, but no one has caught sight of the person.”

“Miss Louisa—Mrs. Stillwater—thought it might be the babies’ mother,” Annie said. “But no one’s seen a strange woman in town.”

“Except Miss Dumont,” Mrs. Hickey said, watching Elizabeth.

Was the woman intent on starting that rumor now? Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, then hesitated. What would they do if she claimed to be the boys’ mother? The Lone Star Cowboy League would be bound to give her the boys. They might even help her support them.

But no, she couldn’t lie. The boys deserved to know their parents, both the ones who had birthed them and the ones who would raise them.

“Miss Dumont arrived in town weeks after the babies were found,” Mrs. Tyson pointed out with a look to Mrs. Hickey. “And she only came at David McKay’s request. She can’t be the triplets’ mother.”

Mrs. Hickey sniffed. “I suppose not. But you tell this Good Samaritan, whoever he is, that I am not the postmaster.” She picked up her skirts and swept to the piano in the corner, where she positioned herself on the bench, fingers poised.

So the boys had someone else looking out for them. Elizabeth glanced around the church again, wondering who it could be. No one seemed to be watching to see how she’d taken the drawings, but perhaps the Good Samaritan was being cautious. Still, helping the babies was a kindness. Why keep it a secret? As if the matter concerned him too, Theo cuddled closer when Elizabeth stood with the others and sang the opening hymn. In Mrs. Tyson’s arms, Jasper clapped his hands as if trying to keep time, and Eli rocked himself against Annie, wrinkling her red-and-yellow flower-printed cotton dress.

Mr. Crenshaw, the stationmaster, came to the pulpit. He must be the deacon. Elizabeth followed along with the prayers and readings, all the while making sure her boys weren’t any more of a distraction than necessary. Her thoughts were distracted enough. Why would the Good Samaritan draw her and Brandon holding hands? Had she done something that made it appear they were a couple?

Then Brandon stepped up to the pulpit, and she couldn’t look away. At more than six feet tall, he had had a presence even when he was just a student at the divinity school. Now, though his brown frock coat, waistcoat and trousers were plain and functional, he looked every inch the compassionate, dedicated minister. He leaned forward and smiled, and the whole church seemed to brighten.

“We’ve been talking about the Israelites leaving Egypt,” he said, glancing around at the people who had come to worship. Elizabeth found herself trying to catch his gaze and chided herself. She no longer had to posture for Brandon’s attentions. She had more important matters to attend to. She turned her smile on Theo, who smiled back.

“God provided the Israelites a way through obstacles, both natural and made by human hands,” he continued, voice warm and thoughtful as he straightened. “Through a series of plagues, He convinced the King of Egypt to let them go free from slavery. With a miracle, He made a way for thousands of people to pass through the Red Sea unharmed. He guided them by day and by night.”

How nice to have a God so attentive, to work such wonders. Of course, He’d likely had to perform such feats to save a nation from bondage. That didn’t mean she should expect Him to do the same for her and the boys. Didn’t the Bible say not to put the Lord God to the test?

“Without God’s help,” Brandon was explaining, silver gaze ever-moving, “they would have continued in slavery. Even the right to raise sons was denied them. They were, in effect, orphans, until God made them His family.”

She glanced at the boys. All three had turned their heads toward Brandon. They knew the sound of his voice, trusted it enough to listen. When had she lost such childlike faith?

Could she find it again?

On the altar, Brandon leaned toward the congregation again with a smile, as if he was about to impart a secret. “We have among us today a number of orphans, children left by parents who passed on or could no longer pay their way. They too are part of God’s family. And I believe God is calling on us to help them.”

Around her, men straightened on the wooden pews, ladies raised their heads.

“Even though the drought appears to be behind us, for which we thank God, the effects remain for many in our community,” he told them. “Times for them are hard. We cannot allow our hearts to grow hard as well. Jesus welcomed the little children, warned against hindering them from learning about Him. And He said that when we offer a cup of cool water or a set of warm clothes to those in need, we offer them to Him. There are many needs in Little Horn. Pray this week about what God would have you do to help meet them.”

Elizabeth glanced at Mrs. Tyson to see her wipe a tear from her cheek. Annie held Eli as if she’d never let him go. Theo turned in Elizabeth’s arms and gazed at her so somberly she could not forget that she was the one he and his brothers relied upon.

Am I doing what You want me to do, Father?

Just then the piano began tinkling under Mrs. Hickey’s fingers, and the congregation rose for the concluding hymn. Elizabeth would have liked a moment or two to think about what Brandon had said, but as soon as the song ended, she was surrounded.

“I kept some of our sons’ baby things,” Mrs. Tyson said, rubbing a hand over Theo’s dark hair and earning her a frown from the touchy baby. “They certainly aren’t going to need them again. I’ll bring them to you this week.”

“The blackberry preserves are just about set,” another woman put in. “I’ll give you some.”

Other ladies offered blankets and bonnets. Gents asked if Elizabeth needed help with handling the cart or chopping firewood for the hearth in her room. Jasper and Eli ate up the attention, and even Theo broke into a giggle as Stella tickled him. All Elizabeth could think was that Brandon wielded a great deal of power in Little Horn, for the townsfolk certainly listened to their minister.

One of the last to come forward was Mrs. Hickey, and she was towing an older man with a wide girth.

“Miss Dumont,” she said, pointed nose in the air, “this is Clyde Parker. I understand from Mrs. Arundel that you are desirous of making his acquaintance.”

And the way her wiry brows came down told Elizabeth that the pianist suspected nefarious purpose in the request.

The fellow frowned at Elizabeth. A bulldog of a man, with a neck nearly as wide as his chest, he splayed his bandy legs and put his hands on his hips, eyeing her up and down. His clothes were clean, but wrinkled and well-worn. His battered felt hat seemed as ancient as the lines in his weathered face. Oh, dear. Wasn’t he one of the men who had been suggested as a husband for her?

“Ma’am,” he spit out with a nod of his graying head. He eyed Theo in her arms as if she held a snake. “Pleased to meet you. I hear you’d like to stay in Little Horn.”

“No!” Jasper told him. Mrs. Hickey recoiled, and Mr. Parker frowned. Mrs. Tyson stepped back to quiet the boy.

“It’s a pleasant town,” Elizabeth assured the rancher, wondering how to gracefully make her escape. “Everyone has been so kind.”

“Pastor Stillwater knows her family,” Mrs. Hickey informed Mr. Parker. “He says they were fine people.”

He hadn’t actually said that, and Elizabeth knew many did not consider her uncle so fine anymore.

Mr. Parker nodded. “References are always good. And it seems you like children.”

She liked Jasper, Theo and Eli. “Do you have children, Mr. Parker?” she asked, turning the questions on him.

“My wife, God rest her soul, and I were never blessed.” He cleared his throat as if it hurt to remember, and Elizabeth could not help but like him for that. Then he narrowed his eyes at her. “So, can you cook?”

She had been hoping to interview with someone in the area as a nanny or governess. Did he intend to interview her as a wife? She could think of no kind way to answer him.

Instead, she sniffed the air and made a face. “Oh, dear. I fear I may need to take care of a matter. If you’ll excuse me.”

Mrs. Hickey and Mr. Parker took one look at the baby in her arms and melted back from her as if little Theo carried yellow fever. Elizabeth turned and hurried out of the door. She knew she’d have to fetch Theo’s brothers at some point, but for now she just wanted freedom.

She nearly bumped into Brandon on the front steps. He caught her arm. “Easy. Everything all right?”

Elizabeth pasted on a smile as several of the departing ladies glanced their way. “Fine. Your sermon was very effective. Everyone is offering help.”

He smiled. “Glad to hear it. Let’s hope the members of the Lone Star Cowboy League are similarly accommodating when I tell them we have a house for the children’s home. Say a prayer. They’re meeting after service.”

She wanted to wish him well. It sounded as if a children’s home was badly needed. But if Brandon succeeded in giving one to Little Horn, she could well lose the boys, and her opportunity to get to know him again, forever.

* * *

Brandon stood on the steps, listening to praise for his sermon, commiserating about family concerns and generally bidding farewell to the last members of his congregation. All the while a part of him was aware of Elizabeth at the foot of the steps, settling the boys into the cart.

It had been the same way during service. While he’d made it a point to meet the gaze of every member in attendance at least once, he’d felt himself drawn to her. He’d seen those cinnamon brows rise in surprise, those peach-colored lips purse in concern. He generally spoke about what the Lord put on his heart. He shouldn’t crave her appreciation.

But he did. And he couldn’t help feeling that by championing the children’s home he’d somehow disappointed her.

He couldn’t afford such concerns now. He’d asked Lula May McKay to call a meeting of the Lone Star Cowboy League for right after service, and he knew he had some persuading to do.

Please give me the words, Lord.

It seemed he’d had to choose his words carefully his whole life, to keep from hurting his already-wounded mother, to prevent a blowup with his father. The trait naturally flowed into his work as a minister. Words chosen carefully built sermons, mended hearts and healed lives.

“Powerful sermon, Pastor,” Mrs. Hickey said, strutting out of the church and pausing to frown across the yard. Brandon thought she might be looking for her husband, a warmhearted man who called the community dances, but he knew the moment she spotted Elizabeth, because her gaze narrowed and one foot began tapping under her blue skirts.

“I’m glad you appreciated it, Mrs. Hickey,” he said, drawing her gaze back to him. “But then, I don’t have to tell you to care for widows and orphans. You were among the first to reach out to the triplets.”

She raised her head, the soft pink roses on her hat belying the sharpness of her gaze. “I believe charity starts at home. I expect you’ll be joining us for dinner, Reverend. I plan to eat at four.”

Was he now her charity? Something within him protested. “That’s very kind of you, I’m sure, but I fear I have other plans.”

Her brows came up. “Oh?”

“I was going to see if Miss Dumont and the triplets wanted some dinner,” he told her.

She sucked in a breath, no doubt ready to launch into a scold.

Brandon met her gaze. “After all, what use is a minister who doesn’t practice what he preaches?”

She deflated. “True, true. Well, next Sunday, then.” Head still high, she clomped down the steps. Brandon thought about following her, intervening in anything she might say to plague Elizabeth, but Lula May appeared in the doorway of the church just then and beckoned him inside. It was time to present his case. With one last look at Elizabeth, in a peach-colored dress that only made him think of her lips, he followed the lady into the quiet of the church.

The members of the Lone Star Cowboy League had wandered to the front of the chapel. With fewer people gathered in the pews, their voices echoed to the beams overhead. Every rustle of cotton against wood, every shift of a heavy body spoke volumes. He only hoped his proposal would speak as loudly.

His brother, Bo, gave him a grin of encouragement from the front row. Brandon knew all the other members. Dark-haired CJ Thorn, one of the founders, had once held himself aloof and somber. Now, thanks to his wife, Molly, infant son and twin nieces, he tended to smile more often than not. He curled his long body next to Edmund McKay, who somehow managed to make the pews seem small.

McKay too had stayed away from people until the widowed Lula May had taken him under her wing and shown him what family could mean. Caroline Murray had done the same for Edmund’s brother David, who sat forward on his seat now, hat turning in his hands, as he waited for the meeting to start. Leaner than his brother, David met Brandon’s gaze and nodded encouragement, green eyes bright in the shadows of the church.

Edmund, CJ and Bo had been amenable to David’s earlier proposal to build a children’s home, Brandon knew. According to David, it was the older cattlemen who had balked. They always seemed to count pennies rather than needs.

They clustered together now, as if uniting against whatever idea would be proposed: lean and cautious Abe Sawyer, stocky and cranky Clyde Parker, hard-as-nails Gabe Dooley and ruddy and cantankerous Casper Magnuson. The last scowled at Brandon as if he suspected the sermon earlier had been leading up to this.

He would not be wrong.

“Order,” Lula May called, and the men fell silent. There was a reason the cow pony breeder had been made league president. The only woman in the group, the petite blonde with red in her hair had a way of making her presence felt.

“We have one item of business today,” she announced, intelligent blue eyes pinning each man in his seat. “And that is the matter of the children’s home we agreed to fund.”

Sawyer, Parker and Dooley leaned back and crossed their arms over their chests. Magnuson did the same, even though his old friend Saul Hauser had recently passed on, leaving children behind. Nothing like having support.

At Lula May’s nod, Brandon stood and spread his hands. “Gentlemen, madam president, thank you for your concerns about the most vulnerable among us. The triplets, the Satler siblings and the other children scattered across the county need our support.”

“Something has to be done,” Magnuson allowed, lowering his arms.

His cronies cast him a look as if to accuse him of giving in too soon.

“Something has to be done,” Dooley agreed. “We said we’d help. But let’s not get carried away. There’s only so much money.”

“True,” Bo put in. “But there isn’t a civic fund, and the church fund already goes to pay for religious activities, community gatherings and the school.”

“We could always levy taxes,” Lula May suggested sweetly, a determined gleam in her eyes. “Say, on every head of cattle on the range and every acre of farmland.”

Edmund shook his head, a grin winning free. Brandon wouldn’t have been surprised to see him applaud his wife’s audacity.

Dooley, Sawyer and Parker shifted in their seats. Magnuson tugged at his collar. “Enough of that kind of talk now. Someone might get ideas.”

Brandon hid a smile. “Then the Lone Star Cowboy League is our best, least expensive option to fund a children’s home.”

Parker snorted. “Least expensive? You didn’t hear McKay’s proposal. Gardens, their own bedrooms, training for employment. Why give all that to orphans?”

“Why give those to any child?” David countered, gaze darkening. “Because we want them to grow up to become contributing members of society.”

Parker turned his scowl toward the young rancher.

Brandon held up his hand. “What if I told you I could give you everything David originally asked for, at less than half the cost you imagined?”

Sawyer and Dooley perked up. Magnuson leaned forward. Parker’s scowl eased just the tiniest.

CJ spoke up. “I’d say I’d like to hear more, Pastor.”

Brandon drew in a breath. They were ready to listen. He went on to explain about the Crenshaw house and his hopes for an easy renovation. He added that the Arundels and Mercy Green had agreed to help provide food for the home. By the time he had finished, they were all nodding.

“It just might work,” Sawyer said. “Several families in the area are having trouble caring for kin left orphaned. This could really help them.”

Bo winked at Brandon.

Lula May beamed at them all. “It seems we have an accord, gentlemen. We already agreed that David and Pastor would oversee the project. All in favor of funding Pastor Stillwater’s proposal?”

“Aye,” everyone but Parker chorused.

“Opposed?” She speared Parker with her blue gaze.

Parker clamped his mouth shut.

“Motion carries,” she declared. “Now, if there’s nothing else...”

Brandon held up his hand again. “One other concern, if I may.”

Parker groaned, but his friends silenced him. Lula May nodded for Brandon to continue.

“The league is currently funding Elizabeth Dumont to care for the triplets,” he told them. “When they move into the children’s home, she will need another position.”

“Don’t expect us to pay for that,” Sawyer ordered.

“There must be someone who needs a cook or nanny,” Dooley put in, glancing around as if he hoped to find one among them.

“Most folks hereabouts prefer family to help raise children,” Lula May replied thoughtfully.

“And most cooks have to travel with the herd,” Bo added.

Brandon had known it would be hard to find Elizabeth other work, but hearing their reluctance just steeled his resolve. She’d lost her place in society, her position as a governess and her potential husband to another woman. She deserved something of her own.

“You’re all worried for nothing,” Magnuson grumbled. “She’s a fine-looking woman who loves children. Someone’s going to marry her. You wait and see.”

Though Lula May looked unconvinced, most of the men were nodding again, even David, Bo, Edmund and CJ. Brandon knew he should protest. Elizabeth shouldn’t have to sell herself in marriage to support herself. Then again, what if she met a man she could love and who loved her in return? Wouldn’t that make life better for her again? His responsibility toward her would diminish to that of a pastor for his flock. Magnuson’s suggestion was logical.

He simply could not understand why the thought of Elizabeth marrying made him feel as if he’d failed.