“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?
Elizabeth forced her shaking hand to steady on the spoon.
