A Wishful Bride: A Sweet Historical Western Romance

Chapter One

CREST STONE, COLORADO- December 1877

The snow swirled gracefully over the street below. Rebecca O’Neal rested her forehead against the pane of glass, wishing yet again for the right answer to come to her.

“Emmy! Don’t touch that. Put it down!” Roger’s irritated voice broke through Rebecca’s thoughts.

With a sigh, she turned away from the boarding house window to face three of her five children. Seven-year-old Roger was glaring at his little sister, while five-year-old Johnnie reached for the little toy horse Emmy had grabbed.

“Emmy, give your brothers back their horse and come sit with me,” Rebecca said.

“Story?” The little girl looked up at her mother with a cherubic face.

Rebecca smiled. “I’ll tell you a story. But only if you leave your brothers alone.”

Emmy grinned and let Johnnie have the horse before toddling toward her mother. As Rebecca picked up her youngest, she felt yet another pang of sadness. Roger and Johnnie had each other as playmates, and her two oldest daughters were close in age and spent hours together. But poor little Emmy was alone.

She wrapped her arms around the little girl, settling her on her lap and turning back toward the window. If Rebecca had her way, Emmy would have had a little sibling to befriend. Instead, Emmy and her siblings had lost their father, and Rebecca had lost part of her very soul.

Emmy leaned her head back against Rebecca’s chest as she listened to her favorite story—one about a rabbit and a mouse who were the best of friends. Rebecca had made it up months ago, and Emmy could never get enough of hearing it again and again. It was a nice distraction from Rebecca’s own grief—and now it provided a way to soothe her nerves as she waited for Levi Whiteside to arrive at the boarding house.

She didn’t need to wait much longer. Just as she finished Emmy’s story, Rebecca spotted him crossing the road below. Her heart immediately began to thump faster, and for the thousandth time since she’d made up her mind about Mr. Whiteside’s question, she wondered if she was making the right decision.

“Come along downstairs,” she said as she let Emmy slide from her lap.

“Will Miss Darby give us a cookie?” Roger asked, jumping up.

Rebecca bit back a smile. All of the children loved Miss Darby, who ran the boarding house with her brother, and she doted on them in return. “Perhaps. You may ask her nicely.”

Casting a quick glance at herself in the mirrored glass on the washstand, Rebecca smoothed back her hair and told herself not to look so terrified. It was only marriage, after all, and she’d been married before.

To a man I’d known and loved for years, the voice in the back of her head reminded her as she ushered the children out the door. Rebecca bit her lip, forcing the thought from her head before she could begin to dwell on all that she’d lost.

It did no good to wish herself back to the past when her present situation required all of her attention.

Downstairs, Rebecca found her two oldest, Gwynnie and Sarah, elbow deep in flour in the kitchen. The boarding house’s cook had taken a shine to the girls and had invited them to bake with her. Rebecca hated to interrupt them while they were enjoying themselves, but she could hardly have the little ones underfoot during the conversation she was about to have with Mr. Whiteside. Particularly when the gentleman looked like a frightened rabbit each time Emmy stared up at him or Johnnie asked him if he liked to catch bugs.

“Is he here?” Gwynnie asked before Rebecca had even said a word. She was already dusting off her hands. She had just turned eleven, and Rebecca marveled over how much more grown up she’d become since leaving Kentucky. “I’ll take them outside. Sarah can stay here.”

Rebecca’s heart swelled in gratitude for her daughter. “Thank you. It shouldn’t be too long, and then you can get back to your dough.”

Gwynnie gave her a nervous smile as she took Emmy’s hand. “Good luck, Mama.”

“Be sure you tell him yes,” nine-year-old Sarah added from her station in front of a mixing bowl.

Rebecca swallowed a nervous laugh as she exited the kitchen. In the hallway, she paused to compose herself. Mr. Whiteside had to be waiting in the boarding house’s parlor by now.

She forced herself to slow her breathing as she smoothed down her skirts. Her sister Eleanor had taken care of her for months, ever since they’d lost their husbands in a mining accident. Rebecca had fallen apart, and Eleanor had taken charge. They’d lost their homes and all the stability they used to have. But Eleanor had pushed through it all with courage she found somewhere deep inside, even finding them husbands all the way out here in Colorado.

Rebecca pressed her shoulders back and prayed for even half the courage that Eleanor possessed. Eleanor was happily married, and now it was time for Rebecca to set aside her grief and take care of herself and her family.

She took the few steps down the hallway to the parlor. Mr. Whiteside stood the moment he saw her, whipping his hat from his head.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. O’Neal,” he said, his usually formal voice edged in nervousness.

Something about knowing that he was just as anxious as she was set Rebecca at ease.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Whiteside. Please, sit.” She gave him a smile and gestured at the armchair.

He did as she asked, but sat at the end of the chair, his back straight. Rebecca attempted to make herself comfortable on the settee, but comfort was impossible. Not when she knew exactly why Mr. Whiteside was here.

He cleared his throat. Any moment now, he would ask her for an answer. He was a handsome man, with dark gold hair that curled just ever so slightly, a tanned face, a strong jaw, and clear hazel eyes that Rebecca thought sometimes could see straight into her soul. He seemed straightforward enough, and he’d made clear his goal to improve the land he had owned with his brother to a profitable, working farm. And while he almost appeared afraid of her children, there was something else about Mr. Whiteside that intrigued Rebecca. She couldn’t place a finger on it, and he’d offered no hint at his past, but there was a strength there that made her feel as if he would be a good protector.

He’d also gone out of his way to be an honorable sort of man, paying for this boarding house and offering to marry her when she’d arrived to wed his late brother. Learning that Edward Whiteside had recently passed away was hardly more than Rebecca could bear. She hadn’t truly known the man, but she’d already been through so much. It seemed she was meant for difficulty—but then Levi Whiteside had come forward and made her an offer she never could have expected.

And now he needed an answer.

“Would you like some refreshment?” Rebecca twisted her fingers together, buying time before either of them had to address the question that lingered in the air. “I could fetch you some tea, or perhaps some coffee.”

“No, thank you. I’m not particularly thirsty.” His voice was deep, and Rebecca tried to imagine hearing it every day.

Mr. Whiteside turned his hat in his hands before setting it on the little table adjacent to his armchair. He cleared his throat again. “I trust you’ve thought about my proposal?”

Rebecca’s heart thumped so hard she was certain he’d be able to hear it. “I have,” she said, her voice higher pitched than normal.

He sat even straighter, which Rebecca would have thought impossible. Could she do it? Could she marry this man she hardly knew?

You know him better than you knew his brother, she reminded herself. She’d agreed to marry Edward Whiteside sight unseen. At least she’d had conversations with Levi. By all appearances, he was upstanding and hard-working.

And she had no other choice—at least none that would keep her children fed and a roof over their heads.

Before she could change her mind, Rebecca nodded. “Yes. My answer is yes.”

“Yes?” Mr. Whiteside repeated, as if he couldn’t believe she’d actually agreed to his proposal. He nodded and repeated the word before she could speak. “Yes. All right. I’ll make the preparations.”

He stood, and she followed his lead. He waited there for a moment, and Rebecca thought that she’d never felt so awkward in her life. Was she to thank him? To wait for him to say goodbye? Or—oh, heavens—would he kiss her?

Just as her face flushed with the thought, he reached for her hand, lifted it, and pressed his lips against the back of her hand.

Rebecca didn’t have time to react, because at that very moment, a tiny girl with blonde ringlets sailed into the parlor and wrapped her arms around Rebecca’s legs.

“Mama,” Emmy said, the word smothered against Rebecca’s skirts.

Rebecca rested a hand on Emmy’s head just as Gwynnie paused at the door.

“I’m sorry,” Gwynnie said. “She got away from me. Good afternoon, Mr. Whiteside.”

“Good afternoon,” Mr. Whiteside replied, looking somewhat startled at the intrusion as he took his hat from the table. Emmy watched him with wide eyes as he retreated toward the door.

“I’ll pay a call as soon as I have the arrangements made.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, he’d disappeared past Gwynnie and was gone.

Rebecca bit down on her lip, the nerves unspooling inside. All she could hope was that she’d made the right decision.