Chapter Three
“Oh!”
The woman squeaked as Wade grabbed hold of her arms to keep her from falling. Her carpetbag thumped against him as it swung on her elbow, and her fingers dug painfully into his own arms. But he didn’t let go until she was steady on her feet.
When he dropped his hands, her face turned pink.
“Pardon me,” she said, and her cheeks went an even darker shade of rose. “I didn’t see you there, sir.”
It wasn’t until she looked up at him that he realizedthiswas Miss Hazel Hart. Wisps of blonde hair fell from beneath her hat and large brown eyes studied his face, just as they’d seemed to in her photograph. But her apple-shaped cheeks seemed more sunken in, as if she hadn’t enough to eat, and her full lips drew together into a flat line of worry.
Recognition appeared to dawn in her eyes as he stepped backward. “Mr. Pierce?” she said hesitantly.
Wade nodded. She was a mere wisp of a woman, petite and looking as if she’d need to hold onto a tree to keep from being carried off by the next breeze. Why had Mrs. Crenshaw chosen this woman for him? Hadn’t he—or Kristiansen, really—been plain enough that he needed someone strong and sturdy? Miss Hart looked hardly able to feed herself, much less a bunkhouse full of ranch hands.
But she smiled at him, and worry seemed to disappear off her frame as her lips turned up. “It’s good to meet you,” she said, her voice reminding him of warm honey.
He nodded again, uncertain what to do. If he didn’t marry her, then what was he supposed to do with her? Send her back?
Something about leaving her here with money for a return ticket and a night of lodging felt . . . Wade couldn’t place it. It was more thanwrong. It left him with an odd mix of longing and loneliness.
Perhaps she was stronger than she looked.
And so he found himself reaching for her carpetbag and saying, “My wagon is just over there.”
He ought to have offered her his arm, he thought as they covered the short distance between the platform and the wagon. But it was too late for that. All he could do was offer her a hand as she climbed into the wagon. She gripped his outstretched palm with surprising strength, and he hoped he was right. Maybe Miss Hartwassturdier than the willow branch she appeared to be.
Wade placed her carpetbag in the wagon box and eased himself into the driver’s seat. Lines in hand, he paused a second. They had to go to the church. He could hardly bring her all the way to the ranch unmarried. If he did, there was no telling when they’d have time to return to town for a ceremony, and he didn’t want any of the men questioning her virtue.
And so he aimed the horses toward the church.
It took no time at all to arrive. When he snuck a glance at Miss Hart, her wide brown eyes were surveying the simple, wooden structure that served as Crest Stone’s only church.
He helped her down from the wagon, her smaller fingers curling against his gloved hand. Inside the empty church, he gestured for her to sit while he went to find the minister.
“Mr. Pierce—” Miss Hart began, but Wade was already out the door before she finished her thought. He hesitated, every instinct telling him to go back inside and let her ask her question or tell him what was on her mind. But that would use up valuable time, and they needed to get this done with so he could return home and get back to work.
Reverend Canton arrived at his door just as Wade raised his hand to knock.
“Good afternoon,” the minister said.
Wade could almost see the man’s mind working to identify him. He wouldn’t, of course. Wade hadn’t attended a service since the church had opened earlier that summer. It was far too difficult and time-consuming to give up those hours from the ranch.
“Good afternoon, sir,” he said, acutely aware of what this pastor might think about his reasons for not riding into town for services. “Wade Pierce. I run a ranch some distance north of here. I’m wondering if you . . . well . . .” His entire life, words had never failed him.
Until now, when he had to ask this minister to marry him.
The pastor waited patiently for Wade to clear his throat and force the words out.
“I need to be married,” he finally said.
“Well, you’ve come to the right place. I’m Reverend Canton.” The minister gave him a broad smile, and then peered around him. “Now where is your intended?”
“In the church.” Wade hooked a thumb over his shoulder. Ought he have brought Miss Hart with him to the reverend’s door?
Truth be told, he didn’t know what he should do at all. Marriage, a wedding, and the entire idea of a wife were things he knew nothing about.
“I see. I’ll send my wife over to ensure she has everything she needs.” The pastor opened the door to his home and gestured tor Wade to enter.
