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Chapter Four

All through the night, he was plagued by dreams of a golden-haired lady with a silent hope in the midnight-blue depths of her eyes. Cole woke the next morning to the silence that came after a great storm. He stared at the shadowy ceiling in the early morning’s darkness and contemplated the day ahead. It was Sunday, so he would send Amelia to church with Eberta, and they could pick up Mercy and George on the way. He frowned, biting the inside of his cheek, wondering what Mercy would think of him missing the service.

Why did it matter so much what she thought of him? Troubled, he tossed off the warm covers and braced for the blast of icy winter air. Teeth chattering, he pulled on his robe and slippers before charging downstairs, rubbing his hands together to keep them from going numb.

Let Mercy think what she wanted about him, Cole decided as he knelt before the fireplace in the front room. His cold fingers fumbled with the iron shovel. He uncovered last night’s embers, wondering why he was letting himself care at all. He was feeling far too many emotions for his own comfort. Best to wall off his heart. Mercy was a kind lady. Amelia was lucky to have her. But that didn’t extend to him. She would be basically a housekeeper with access to his charge accounts, nothing more.

So why did that image return, the silent plea in her eyes, the wordless expression of appreciation? As he slowly fed dry kindling to the glowing coals, he went over in his mind the things she’d left out of her letters, the things he’d noticed. Her well-cared-for clothing that had seen much better days. The fraying sleeve hem of her coat, the wash-worn dress, the polish on her shoes hiding a patch. George’s clothes were modest, but in a newer state. Clearly she spent her money on the boy, not on herself. He wondered just how hard she’d struggled as a widow working long hours to support her son.

Wait. That wasn’t his business, either. He shook his head, disappointed in his willpower. Hadn’t he just told himself to stop wondering about her past? Annoyed with himself, he added a small, dry piece of wood to the grate, watched the growing orange flames lick over it, popping and crackling.

“Oh, good!” Amelia’s feet drummed on the steps, her voice echoing down the stairwells. “You’re up! I couldn’t sleep because I was so excited. Mercy’s gonna come here today. I can’t wait to show her everything.”

“I’m sure you can’t.” He glanced over his shoulder in time to see his wild-haired daughter leap to the bottom of the stairs with a thud. “You aren’t usually up at the crack of dawn. If I’d known it would have gotten you out of bed, I would have found you a new mother before this.”

“No, because then she wouldn’t have been Mercy.” Amelia skipped across the room.

“Do I really have to remind you?” He grimaced, reached for a piece of wood and popped it into the fire. “No running in the house.”

“I know, I just can’t contain myself.” Amelia skidded to a stop, hugging herself. “I get to walk into church this morning with a ma, just like all my friends do. I’m gonna wear the new dress Eberta made for me. Pa, do you know what this means?”

“That you’re finally going to start acting like a lady?” He brushed bits of bark and moss off his hands and reached for the little fireplace broom. A few sweeps and the bits flew into the fireplace. “This getting-married thing is a good idea. You’ll be getting up early, acting ladylike. It’s like a dream come true.”

“Honestly, Pa.” Amelia rolled her eyes. “You’re supposed to love me the way I am.”

“Oh, sorry.” He put the broom away, hiding his grin. “I didn’t know. Maybe that’s one of those rules we can break and toss out the window.”

“Very funny.” She rushed up to him, wrapped her arms around his chest and squeezed tight, tipping her head back to sparkle up at him. “Hurry up with breakfast ’cause I’m gonna be lightning fast. I get to go see Mercy!”

“I’m gonna need some mercy if you keep this up.” He winced at his own pun. Well, he thought, a man has to amuse himself where he can.

“Oh, Pa.” Amelia gave him an eye roll and was off, pounding back upstairs, leaving him alone in the room.

Well, looked like they’d have a few more mornings like this alone together before the wedding changed things. Only three more days until Christmas Eve, until Amelia’s hoped-for ceremony. He hung up the broom, crossed the room and felt thankful to Mercy for understanding. He wasn’t sure how he felt about a church wedding. He still hadn’t recovered from the last one. Gritting his molars together, determined not to think of it, he veered into the kitchen, knelt in front of the cookstove and stirred the coals. When he should have been planning his morning of chores and repairs, his mind took an entirely different path.

He remembered that glint of humor when she’d been seated on his sofa, gazing up at him with part challenge, part amusement, all concealed strength. You may tell me what to do only two times a day, she’d said with a slender arch of her brow, pure challenge and likability.

He sighed, reaching for the kindling. It was going to be hard to keep from liking her, but he was tenacious and determined. He would give it his best shot.

* * *

“Ma,” George called from one of the front room windows. “Are you sure they’re gonna come for us? I don’t see ’em yet.”

“Amelia promised they would be by.” Frowning at her reflection in the bureau’s small mirror, Mercy untied her hat ribbons and tried again. “I don’t think they would leave us to find our own way in a strange town.”

“I could help,” George answered confidently. “I can see the church steeple from here. I could take you right to it, and if I got lost in the street I’d just look up to find it.”

“That’s a very good plan.” She adjusted the bow, figured that was as good as it was going to get and raised her gaze to her face. She pinched her cheeks, hoping to put a little color in them. Too bad there wasn’t something she could do about those circles under her eyes. She’d barely been able to sleep a wink, although the bed was comfortable. She pushed away from the bureau and grabbed the shawl she’d laid on the foot of her twin bed, circled around George’s bed and stepped into the hall. “What are you doing?”

“Lookin’ at the horses.” George’s excitement seemed to fill the room with a vibrating, little-boy energy. “There’s a black one. He’s real shiny. What color do you think my horse is gonna be?”

“I don’t know.” Mercy reached for George’s coat. “What color do you think?”

“Maybe brown?” George scrunched his face up, thinking on that for a bit. He took the garment she shook open for him and stabbed one arm into the sleeve, lost in thought. “There’s a lot of brown horses, so yeah, he’ll probably be brown. You see ’em all the time. Maybe most horses are brown.”

“What if he’s as white as the snow?” Seeing his collar was folded over onto itself, she pulled it out and smoothed it down. “What if he’s spotted?”

“Then he’d be both white and brown.” George gazed out the window, lost in his favorite game. “Unless his spots are black.”

“Or red,” she added, unhooking her coat from its peg on the wall.

“Or palomino, or roan or gray,” George continued. “Oh, I just can’t wait for my horse.”

“I know, kid. It won’t be much longer now.” She slipped into her coat, unable to resist glancing down at the street below.

Great snowdrifts ran down one side of the street like a miniature mountain range, and because it was Sunday no one was out shoveling the boardwalks. A few vehicles rolled by, pulled by horses struggling through the new accumulation as far from the miniature mountains as they could get. As she watched a bay team pull a sleigh past the storefront below, she realized she didn’t even know what kind of horse or vehicle Cole drove. In their correspondence she hadn’t thought to ask if he would provide her with a horse and vehicle. Hmm. More things to discuss later, she thought.

“Ma! Look!” George nearly shrieked, both hands splayed across the glass. “That’s the best horse I’ve ever seen. Look. He’s as white as the snow.”

“And he’s stopping in front of the store.” She leaned in, too, feeling the cool glass against her cheek. Why her heart kicked up a crazy rhythm, she couldn’t say. Something within her strained, as if longing for the first glimpse of Cole climbing down from the sleigh.

He wasn’t there. A red-capped Amelia rocked her head back to gaze up at them, grinned when she saw them and waved with a mittened hand. Mercy waved back, fighting disappointment as Eberta set down the reins and hopped from the sleigh.

“C’mon, George,” she said gently, strangely bereft. “We don’t want to keep the horse standing in that cold.”

“No, it’s not good for him,” he said, heading toward the door at a run.

All the way down the stairs and through the silent, echoing store, she tried to remember what Cole had written about his church life. Had he ever said he attended Sunday service? Funny, she realized as she caught sight of Eberta through the glass panes of the shop’s door, busily unlocking it. She couldn’t recall if he’d mentioned actually being a churchgoer himself. In his second letter to her, he’d mentioned how Amelia had commented on being the only girl in church without a mother, and Mercy had simply assumed he attended Sunday services.

Now, she could see she’d been wrong. The door opened, an icy blast of raw, wintry air whooshed in, and George bolted onto the boardwalk, eyes focused on the horse.

“Hi, Miss Eberta,” he said on his way by. “Is that your horse, or is it my new pa’s?”

“It’s Cole’s,” she answered fondly, as if completely understanding the boy’s love of horses. “Good morning, Mercy. I trust you slept well.”

“I was very comfortable.” That was the truth. She’d never slept in such a fine bed. “Thank you. I know it was you who went to the trouble.”

“Oh, pshaw, it wasn’t much.” Pleased, Eberta relocked the door with a jangling of her keys. “Amelia wanted it nice and it’s hard to say no to that girl. If you’re going to be her ma, it’s a skill you’ll have to learn.”

“I do have some practice saying no to my son,” she answered breezily, sharing a smile with the older lady. They headed down the steps together, sinking into snow midway up their calves.

“I can see it would be hard to say no to that one, too.” Eberta nodded in approval. “Someone has to take a firm hand with that girl. Not to scare you off before the wedding.”

“That would be impossible,” Mercy confessed, coming to a standstill in the deep snow, mesmerized by the sight of George gazing raptly at the majestic white horse, too afraid to approach the animal.

“He’s the prettiest one I’ve ever seen,” he breathed, wide-eyed and awestruck. “Is he really gonna be our horse to drive?”

“When you’re with your pa,” Eberta answered. “It’s his driving horse. He bought you a fine mare, gentle as can be, Mercy. So you can get around and take the children where they need to be going.”

“My, he bought a horse?” Mercy swallowed. She couldn’t say why that gesture touched her. The comfortably furnished rooms, and the knowledge they would be just as comfortable in his home, were enough. “He didn’t need to go to that trouble. Horses are expensive.”

“You’re marrying a man who can afford it.” Eberta climbed onto the front seat of the sleigh. “Heaven knows that man saves every penny he can get his hands on. He’s been needing a wife to spend his money for him for years.”

“Oh, I didn’t come to spend his money.” In fact, she clearly remembered last night and his rule about the budget. “I’m used to being careful. My job didn’t pay terribly, but it didn’t pay well.”

“And all that’s behind you. Get in. George, are you going to stare at the horse or come to church with us?”

Mercy’s attention was stolen by the shivering girl, trying to keep her teeth from chattering as she held out one end of the thick flannel-lined buffalo robe. Huddling under it, Amelia shook harder when cold air slipped beneath it.

Not wanting the girl to get any more frozen, Mercy slipped in beside her. “George, come sit beside me.”

“I can’t believe that’s gonna be our horse, too.” George clamored out of the snow, nearly stumbling because he couldn’t take his eyes off the gelding. He dropped beside her with a fulfilled, happy sigh. “No one’s ever had a horse as nice as that one.”

“You’ll have to ask Cole if you can pet him. And what his name is.” She shook the robe over her son, tucking him in snugly. Her teeth began chattering, too.

“It’s Frosty,” Amelia volunteered as the sleigh jerked to a start and Frosty was off, bounding on his long legs through the sheltered part of the street, as gleaming white as the snow.

“Wow,” George breathed as the animal gained momentum. “We’re in a real sleigh, Ma. Being pulled by a real horse.”

“Haven’t you been in a sleigh before?” Amelia asked curiously, a few strands of reddish-blond hair escaping her knit cap to curl around her adorable face.

“We owned work horses for the farm long ago,” Mercy said quietly, her chest tightening at the memory. Some of the daylight seemed to drain from the sky, and she lifted her chin, determined not to let the disappointments of the past shadow this new future. “We put runners on the wagon box in the winter. That was before my husband passed on, when George was too little to remember. Those were our last horses.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Amelia seemed flustered, as if that hadn’t been the answer she’d been expecting.

Leave the past where it belongs, she reminded herself. “So that’s why this is so exciting for us. To be whisked to church instead of walking through the snow. And we’ve never been in finer company.”

“I can’t wait for everyone to see you.” Amelia bumped Mercy’s elbow gently, a show of connection. “Look, we’re already turning down Second.”

“I can see the steeple!” George called out.

“Will your father be meeting us?” Mercy asked quietly as they drove along, straining to search through the crowd of tethered horses and vehicles along the street in front of the church. It looked as if men gathered there, talking amiably. Although she already knew Cole wasn’t one of them.

“Pa doesn’t go to church anymore.” Amelia shrugged, falling silent, as if there was more to the story.

Sensing sadness there, suspecting it was because of the loss of Amelia’s mother, Mercy gave her a silent nod of understanding. Sometimes a broken heart simply had to find his own way.

“Look at that palomino!” George shouted, his voice high-noted with glee. “It’s the most golden horse I’ve ever seen. Maybe that’s the horse I like the most.”

“I can see why.” Mercy straightened George’s cap, which had gone somehow askew, to keep his ears warm. It seemed every handsome horse her boy saw became his new favorite. “Eberta, I’m so glad you’ve come with us.”

“No worries. One thing I don’t miss is Sunday service.” Eberta pulled Frosty to a stop at a vacant spot at the block-long hitching post. “Are all those curious eyes getting to you?”

“Why, are people looking at me?” She pulled her attention away from the men and horses, where Cole Matheson was not, and realized it was true. A circle of ladies, standing off to the side of the walkway, studied her.

Shyness washed over her and she stared at the edge of the buffalo robe feeling terribly alone. She’d been prepared to meet so many new and unfamiliar people, but she hadn’t realized how at ease she’d expected to feel with Cole at her side. Not that she needed a man to lean on, goodness no, but the companionship would have felt nice. Somehow she felt terribly alone.

This was the way a marriage of convenience was, she reminded herself. And, more importantly, it was no different from how her first marriage had turned out, in the end. She pushed back the buffalo robe, folding it up for later use.

“Hi!” Amelia called out to the crowd, standing up to wave. “This is my new mother, Mrs. Mercy Jacobs, but by Christmas she will be Mrs. Matheson. And this is George.”

“Hello.” A friendly woman stepped forward, her blond hair tumbling out from beneath her stylish bonnet. Her smile looked familiar. “We met in the dry-goods store briefly. I’m Molly.”

“Yes, so good to see you again.” Like a sign from heaven, the sun chose that moment to peer between the thick mantle of clouds, smiling down on the wintry world. Mercy felt the brightness and warmth brush her cheek like an angel’s touch, and it was the assurance she needed. Everything was going to be all right. “Are you here with your family?”

“See those twin girls over there?” Molly smiled at Amelia, who was hopping down from the sleigh, and nodded toward the corner of the yard, where a bunch of little girls were lying back down in the snow, making snow angels. Two identical girls with black braids hopped to their feet to admire their work. One wore green, the other blue. Molly sighed happily. “Those two are mine. Nothing but trouble, and I’d say they’re about your little boy’s age.”

“They’ll be in school together, then.” She watched over George while he climbed from the sleigh and into the deep snow. He wasn’t interested in the girls. He had eyes only for the horses. “Are you happy with the teacher here?”

“Why, yes, we’ve been most blessed with Miss Young. She’s a fine teacher,” Molly said, enthused. “I’m sure you’ll love her. My girls do.”

“That’s a relief to know.” Yet another one of her many worries alleviated. Mercy’s smile felt wider, her spirit lighter. She glanced down at her son, who was standing half behind her, and then at Amelia, who reached out to proudly grab her hand. Such a tight grip, such a big need. Mercy prayed she could be everything the girl hoped for in a mother. What if she failed? Her chest ached at the thought; she was already in love with the girl.

“Hello, Eberta.” Another woman came over, waving to the older woman.

“Howdy there, Felicity.” Eberta gave the knotted rein a testing yank and, satisfied, trudged away from the hitching post. “How is that family of yours?”

“Wonderful. Tate’s business is growing by leaps and bounds, and Gertie is keeping me busy.” The cheerful, beautiful woman patted her midsection gently, her condition hid delicately by the drape of her fine wool coat. “Four more months to go until this one arrives.”

“You’ll be even busier then,” Mercy found herself adding, pleased when Felicity shared a smile with her. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you. We are so happy.” Felicity glowed with the truth of that statement. Mercy had never seen the like of the genuine joy and love that radiated from her when she glanced toward a dark-haired, impressive-looking man standing with the others, leaning on a cane.

True love. Mercy could feel the power of it like the sun warming the world. Once, she’d hoped for such a thing with Timothy, God rest him. Heaven knew how hard they’d tried. A touch of sadness crept in and she pushed it away. At least with Cole she would have no such disappointments, even if she would not have true love.

Who needed true love, anyway? She took George by the hand, thankful for him and Amelia—for her children. While the women chatted, leading the way down the shoveled pathway toward the open door of the church, the sunshine seemed to follow them, laying a golden path at their feet. Sign enough, she told herself, even if she felt a little lonely for more.

“That’s my best friend and her ma!” Amelia pointed out, gesturing toward a horse and sleigh pulling to a stop in front of the church. “Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come, Mercy. We’re going to invite all of them to our wedding. And I’m glad you came, too, George.”

“Uh, me, too,” the boy said, glancing over his shoulder one last time at the men and horses. Mercy realized why, now that she took a more careful look. It wasn’t just the horses that had captured his attention, but the men with their sons at their sides. Fathers.

Knowing she wasn’t the only one wishing Cole was here, she gently squeezed George’s hand.