Rocky Mountain Proposal Page 8

  “Really?” Katie slid her wide-eyed gaze from Julia to Hope. “As big as Boston must be, that’s remarkable.”

  “As I’ve already stated, this is a breath of fresh air. Like having a small bit of home right here with me.” Julia inhaled and set her gaze Heavenward, only furthering Hope’s embarrassment.

  But Hope could hardly fault the woman. Boston was a far cry from Boulder in so many ways. Even with the amenities Paul had added to his farm—running water inside, a new stove, an indoor privy and bathing room—it wasn’t what Hope was accustomed to.

  Yet it was warm, comfortable. It was a house she could call home.

  “Do tell, how did you meet Paul? God rest his soul.” Julia set a hand to her heart.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Hope could see Aaron approaching in that steady, western way of his that made her abundantly aware of her eastern blood. Did he still think she was unable to manage the farm after the whole milking fiasco?

  Why wouldn’t he? She’d given him no reason not to conclude otherwise. He’d essentially done most all of the chores yesterday because she’d been so inept.

  So she’d been unaware that her white gloves were better left inside or that a bull was not considered a cow or that a chicken could lay more than one egg. Even her attire seemed to fluster him. When she’d embarked on this journey, she hadn’t imagined needing actual work dresses. When she’d worked at the bakery back home, she’d worn her everyday finery covered by a lovely little lace apron. Her job had been to take orders and make change.

  “Hope, dear? How did you meet?” Julia prodded.

  She turned and peered at Julia, guessing that her new friend would likely think the reality gauche. “A mail-order bride ad.”

  She took Julia’s measure but didn’t really care what she found there. There’d be no freedom in pretending she was someone or something other than herself.

  “A mail-order bride. Oh, the spice of it all,” Julia breathed in a dramatic flourish. She primped the puffed sleeves of Hope’s violet brocade waistcoat. “How daring of you. How brave. And how very adventurous.”

  “Adventure born of necessity,” Hope corrected as she set a hand on Julia’s arm. She didn’t have to emit every single detail, but she would not allow Julia to believe anything other than the truth.

  She relayed a shortened version of the misfortune that fell upon her family a year ago and then the hard times following, along with the way she’d let Jonas off the marriage hook.

  “That is positively the saddest story I’ve ever heard. How your fiancé can sleep at night knowing how he must’ve hurt you, I will never know.” Julia closed her eyes and tilted her face Heavenward, as though interceding for the man’s shadowy soul.

  Hope shared a smile with Katie, guessing that Julia probably hadn’t even gotten as far as Dear Lord. She was just dramatic. Her unabridged self was comforting and was a wonderful taste of home.

  “I consider myself fortunate, really,” Hope amended, just in case Julia tended toward tears. “To marry out of obligation is no marriage at all. Besides, through it all, I met Paul.”

  Julia’s eyes grew wide, disbelieving. “But he—”

  “He opened up a whole new world for me,” Hope finished for her, struggling to grasp the good even when it seemed her life had taken a jolting turn for the worse. When she noticed Aaron standing beside her, his intense, questioning gaze connected to hers, she added, “For that I am ever so grateful.”

  “That certainly sounds like the right way to look at things.” Katie gave Hope’s arm a tender squeeze and then peered around Hope at where Aaron stood. “Right, Aaron?”

  He nodded, his mouth pulled tight.

  “How will you do it—out there on your own?” Julia clasped her white-gloved hands in a prayerful pose. “I’ve heard from a very reliable source that you plan on running the farm by yourself—not that I was fishing for information, mind you.”

  Hope grinned at how skillfully Julia had danced around hearsay. “I’ll do the best that I can. I learn quickly and am not at all opposed to doing what I must in order to keep the farm running.”

  “It is a bit of fortune that Aaron Drake will be there to help you with everything, is it not?” Julia nodded to Aaron with an aristocratic air that brought a smile to Hope’s face. “He’s certainly one you can depend upon.”

  “I’ll second that,” Katie added.

  “Just doing what any decent man would do.” Aaron groaned as he jammed his Stetson on his head. “Now, can we change the subject?”

  “You go far beyond a decent man’s actions.” Katie shot Aaron a scolding look, reached around Hope and gently nudged him. “Joseph has so much respect for you, Aaron. He’s often said that he’d have been hard-pressed to make things work in the shop if not for you.”

  “Did I hear my name mentioned?” Joseph asked, feeling his way around the pews.

  Katie reached out and pulled him into their circle. “We were just talking about how dependable Aaron is. And how much help he’ll be for Hope.”

  “Dependable, among many other attributes.” Joseph grinned. “Would you like me to list them off for you, Hope?”

  “Joseph.” Aaron’s voice was low and laden with caution.

  “He’d risk life and limb if it meant saving those he loves.” In the most casual and comfortable way, Joseph draped an arm around his wife’s waist. “By the way, did you all hear that Sam is coming back?”

  “Really? That’s great.” Aaron crossed his arms at his chest, looking immensely glad to have dodged the attention.

  “Sam was one of Joseph’s best friends growing up.” Katie directed her words to Hope. “Beside his brothers, of course.”

  “He’ll be a welcome sight, that’s for sure,” Joseph said. “I’ll never forget how he helped me see things more clearly.” When Joseph placed the most tender, cherishing kiss on Katie’s head, Hope had to look away.

  It was not because she was embarrassed by the show of love—or offended—but because the sweet display, so pure and wholesome, spurred the longing in her heart for the same.

  Hope had met all three of Aaron’s brothers and was powerless to unearth one unkind thing to say about them. Katie and Callie were fortunate to be loved by such honorable men. And Hope had no doubt that Zach would find his own beloved someday. He was just too personable and kindhearted to go through life unmarried.

  But Aaron…she had a hard time imagining him with a bride. If his sometimes glowering nature was a consistent mark of this man, she didn’t know a woman who’d welcome that—except for Jane, maybe.

  But remembering the sweet way Aaron had caught her just before falling into the straw, or the patient way he’d instructed her in the art of milking, brought her unkind judgment up short—painfully so. Perhaps he really was as good-natured as his brothers. Perhaps he’d been through his own set of circumstances that had colored his view of life. If so, then Hope vowed right then and there to pray for him, to pray that he’d find God’s goodness. In several of the letters Paul had sent to her, he’d said the same. She’d been so touched by Paul’s faith in God, his faith in her.

  “From what I understand, Sam’s going to be setting up a law office somewhere in the area.” Joseph threaded his fingers through his chestnut waves.

  “Actually,” Julia began, clearing her throat, “he’ll be setting up his practice right here.” Her voice trembled ever so slightly, her fair complexion suddenly turning a faint shade of pink. “In Boulder.”

  When Hope exchanged glances with her new friend, she had the distinct suspicion that Julia was even more aware of Sam’s plans than she was letting on.

  “Aaron…” Jane’s bleating voice called from the vestibule. She straightened her black satin bow in her hair, a frivolous extra the woman had apparently never worn before, given the numerous comments Hope had overheard. Jane strode this way, dabbing at her eyes as though on the verge of tears. “You wouldn’t mind taking me home now, would you?” All white-knuckled, she c
lutched the back of a pew, as though to remain upright. “With all of the activity today, I’m not feeling myself.”

  “Sure.” He turned and looked at Hope in that sideways, roguish way of his that was endearing, really. “Are you ready, Hope?”

  Katie grasped Hope’s hand. “Why don’t you come home with us for dinner, Hope?”

  “Oh, yes,” Jane agreed almost before Katie had finished her sentence. She fluffed the straggle of curls hanging down her neck—another small change that had surprised Hope since the woman usually only fastened an unkempt knot at the back of her head. “Then you don’t have to worry about little ole me. Aaron can see me home just fine.” Jane’s face grew brighter as she hugged her arms to her waist, the snug black garment she wore bulging at the seams. “Can’t you, Aaron?”

  “Absolutely.” Every bit a gentleman, he nodded Jane’s way.

  Hope tallied several marks in the kindness column for Aaron.

  “You can join us after you get Jane home, Aaron. All right?” A broad smile brightened Katie’s face.

  Jane’s posture suddenly snapped straight, as though someone had shot a rod up her spine. “But I—”

  “You do look peaked, Jane.” Concern infused Julia’s words, but the measured, perceptive gaze she slid to Hope communicated something completely on the contrary.

  “It’s a good thing you’ll be able to rest for the remainder of the day.” Katie rubbed her hands down Jane’s arms. “You don’t want to overdo yourself. Right, Ben?” she called, motioning Ben over from where he’d be conversing with the minister.

  “What?” Ben approached with Libby in his arms.

  “I was remarking about how we don’t want Jane to tax herself with too much activity,” Katie reiterated.

  “My sentiments, exactly.” Ben shifted Libby, who smiled and waved at Hope, to his other arm as he pulled Callie to his side. “After everything you’ve been through, you’re far better off giving yourself ample time to rest.”

  Jane tangled a thick finger in her lean cluster of curls. “But I—”

  “I’ll make sure Aaron and Hope bring a meal home for you this evening.” Katie wrapped her arms around Jane. “And I’ll be over to check in on you first thing tomorrow.”

  Stiff with obvious anger, Jane hugged Katie back with one arm, but the sheer look of hatred she shot straight through Hope could’ve sent a child hiding behind her mother’s skirts.

  “Just look at all of these chickens. They’re quite the lively bunch this morning.” Hope knelt and held out a handful of grain to one of the dozen chickens strutting about in front of her. “They’re simply delightful, aren’t they?”

  “They’re just stupid chickens,” Jane grumbled as she shifted Paul’s books to her other arm. Even though Hope had informed Jane that she could take anything of Paul’s that she wished to keep, Jane had stalked up into the yard this morning, ready for a fight.

  The willing consent and word of sympathy Hope had offered had seemed to ruffle Jane all the more.

  “But look at how pleased they are with their grain. They certainly are whimsical birds.” She grinned, watching them peck at the ground with such meticulous care.

  Ever since Aaron had shown her how to feed them a week ago, she’d been trying to come up with names for each one and had finally decided that as colorful and as full of personality as they each were they deserved the names of famous artists.

  Jane grabbed a handful of feed from Hope’s bucket and threw it to the ground, hitting one of the birds square in the face. “Get back, you ugly bird.” With a thrust of her foot, she shoved the chestnut brown colored hen nestling close to her black dress, aside, making the bird squawk then flutter away a few feet. “When you have what they want—feed—then of course they’re going to act all eager when it’s time to eat.”

  Hope would’ve liked to have given Jane a kick for being so thoughtless. Instead, she decided to ambush Jane’s irritation with an endearing tidbit about one of the birds. “Look, that’s the one who serenades me early every morning.” She pointed to the rooster. “If you don’t mind me saying so, you have a lovely voice, Michelangelo. The lady birds love to hear you sing, I’m sure.”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake. That is what roosters do. They crow at the crack of dawn. I can hear that ugly bird from all the way over at my place.” In a very unceremonious way, Jane grabbed the bucket from Hope and dumped the rest of the grain on the ground. “No wonder you take so long to do things. You dally about talking to brainless chickens.”

  Hope’s cheeks heated with instant anger as Jane threw the bucket aside, nearly hitting the rooster in the process. “Please, be careful,” she cautioned. “You could hurt them.”

  Pursing her lips, Jane tugged at the thin strand of curls hanging at her neck. “It’d take a cannon blast to kill off these annoying creatures. All they’re good for is eggs and a good hot chicken bake.”

  With a disbelieving scowl, Hope wondered how Paul could’ve seemed so kind and gentle in his letters when his sister was so spiteful. Swallowing any word of outrage that might surface, she headed toward the henhouse. “I’m going to gather the eggs.”

  A few of the chickens followed her into the small, narrow building as though looking to her for protection. “It’s all right. She never stays long,” she soothed as she reached into one of the nests and carefully lifted two large brown eggs. “Good job, Van Gogh,” she praised, as the hen picked a path beside her. “Two eggs today. What a fine chicken you are.”

  She worked her way down the line of eight nests, gingerly plucking through the straw and dusting each egg off before placing it in the basket. She was almost done when she heard Jane talking outside.

  “Yes, I just stopped by to see if she’d mind if I borrowed these books—since they help remind me of Paul.” Jane’s animated tone of voice left no question as to who had arrived.

  “I’m sure that helps,” Aaron answered. “To have bits and pieces from Paul’s life.”

  Hope continued to the last nest, biting her lip as she took her time searching through the straw for the warm brown eggs.

  “Anyway, it seemed that she was running ragged trying to manage everything, like she always is, so I thought I’d give her a hand feeding the chickens.” Jane’s emphatic statement pricked Hope’s pride. She wasn’t always running ragged, was she?

  Aaron cleared his throat. “That was neighborly of you.”

  “I try when I can.” Jane gave a weighty sigh, pausing for a long enough moment that Hope braced herself for what was coming next. “Of course, you know that I want to see her make it here, but honestly, Aaron, I wonder. Did you know that she doesn’t even own a work dress?”

  “I didn’t. But I’m sure that if that’s the case, she’s already well aware,” Aaron responded, his tone curt.

  Hope swallowed hard, trying to subdue her anger so that she wouldn’t crush the next egg she retrieved. She didn’t own the kind of work dress she really needed out here. She’d been horribly naive, horribly unprepared for the unexpected turn her life had taken.

  “How can a woman do what she’s supposed to on a farm, dressed like she’s going to some fancy ball? It’s just ridiculous, if you ask me.”

  Hope didn’t have to see Jane to know that the woman had pursed her thin lips to nonexistence.

  “I’m sure that she never thought she’d have to work like this,” Aaron defended.

  Exactly, Aaron.

  “Exactly.” Jane’s terse response whipped across Hope’s composure. “Which is why I question whether or not she has the fortitude needed to make it here. On Paul’s farm. She could get hurt, and of course, that is my main concern.”

  Hope couldn’t know Jane’s heart, but the woman had certainly never said or done one thing to show her concern.

  “Don’t worry. I’m keeping a close eye on things.”

  The impatience in Aaron’s voice was the smallest bit gratifying, but the idea that he had to keep a close eye on things, as though she was some c
hild, was more like a slap on the wrist. She struggled to be appreciative as she quietly picked several handfuls of straw from a loose bail and added them to each nest.

  “You’re a saint. I can hardly believe how much time you’ve sacrificed away from your job as a carpenter, to help her.”

  Hope had marveled at the same. She’d also been plagued with guilt over the situation, too.

  “I worry about you exhausting yourself,” Jane measured out, her voice low and layered with fluffed-up concern. Hope could almost see her now…fingering that lean clutch of curls she’d suddenly begun wearing. “In fact, with all you’re doing for that woman, I’m going to have to bring by more of my home-baked goods to help keep your energy up.”

  Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at Jane’s syrup-laced comment, Hope cradled her basketful of eggs. “Good job, ladies,” she whispered to the two hens that’d refused to leave her side.

  “That’s not necessary. I’m fine. Actually, I’m more energized the past ten days than I have been for a long time,” Aaron said, his convincing tone making Hope’s heart swell with pride. “It must be all of the fresh air.”

  “And then there’s the—”

  “Listen, Jane, I need to get busy with chores, but I want you to know that your concerns are valid enough. I’ve even had some similar thoughts. But we can’t go jumping to conclusions about Hope. She’s new to all of this. She may surprise us all and really take to things.”

  “Do you really think she will? Honestly, Aaron?” Jane’s tone pricked Hope like rusty barbs.

  He gave a big sigh, and she could almost imagine him jamming his fists at his waist the way he did when he was frustrated. “As far as I’m concerned, the jury’s still out.”

  As far as Hope was concerned, she’d do more than just take to things; she’d excel at farming or die trying.

  Chapter Eight

  “No, no. Naughty goat,” Hope scolded sweetly.

  Aaron watched in amazement from where he tied his mare to a post as Hope scurried behind the goat, trying in vain to snag her undergarment from the accused.