Chapter 21 #2
“No, really. You were only telling me what I already knew. I should have put the horse down earlier. It’s just that I’d been hanging on to hope that you could figure out a way to save him.”
“And I’m truly sorry there was nothing I could do.”
“I know that.” Beckett’s tone held a note of humility, one that proved he was a good man and that Amelia hadn’t been wrong about his character when she’d exchanged letters with him. “I shouldn’t have gotten so angry.”
“You were grieving—”
“I have no excuse.”
“I wish I could have done more.”
“You’re a good veterinarian, Thatcher. No doubt about it. You did more than most men would last month when you came over and saved the herd.”
“I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
Beckett peered off into the distance for a long second, then returned his gaze to them, this time to Amelia. “Ma’am, I’m real sorry for making such a scene about you marrying Thatcher.”
She didn’t know how to respond, wasn’t as smooth as Thatcher. So she just nodded while fingering the beautiful bracelet Thatcher had given her.
“I can see that you thought he was the right fella, and that you made a mistake, plain and simple.”
“I did.” She swallowed her hesitancy. “I didn’t realize it until I found Eileen’s letters.”
Beckett’s gaze bounced between her and Thatcher for a moment. “It’s also plain as mud that the two of you already really like each other.”
“I love Amelia, Beckett.” Thatcher’s voice was firm.
“And I love Thatcher.” Amelia somehow found her voice, wanting to state her feelings so that Beckett knew she felt the same way as Thatcher and had no intention of giving him up.
“And I’m not planning to nullify the marriage, Beckett.” Thatcher sat up in his saddle and squared his shoulders. “I’m planning to keep Amelia forever.”
She stiffened, waiting for Beckett’s protest.
But Beckett released an almost defeated sigh. “Figured as much.”
“We never meant to cause problems,” Thatcher said quickly.
“Yep. Well, it put me in a bind. But that isn’t your fault.”
“What kind of bind?” Thatcher studied Beckett with his usual compassion—just one more thing she loved about Thatcher, that he could so easily forgive.
“Nothin’ for you to worry about.”
“That’s not true.” Thatcher patted his coat pocket. “We’ve got a letter for Eileen right here, hoping to make things right with her and help her out until she can make other arrangements. And we’d like to help you too, if possible.”
Beckett gave a half shrug. “That’s mighty nice of you, but there’s nothin’ you can do to help.”
“I’ll pay for you to put another advertisement into the marriage catalog.”
“I don’t have time for that.”
“If you write another one up, you’ll be able to start writing to someone by spring and maybe send for her over the summer.”
Beckett ran a hand down his mouth and over his scruff as though he was debating saying something. Then he met Thatcher’s gaze, his blue eyes bleak. “I’ve got to get married by my thirtieth birthday in May.”
“You do?”
“Yep.”
Amelia’s mind went back to one of the letters she’d received from the men, the one where the fellow had been insistent that she leave right away in the spring and get to Breckenridge no later than May 1. That had to have been Beckett.
But why the need?
Thatcher was watching Beckett as though waiting for more of a revelation as well. “When in May is your birthday?”
“May fifteenth.”
Thatcher seemed to be silently calculating the dates.
“It won’t work.” Beckett’s tone held finality. “I already thought through that, and even if I put out a notice today, I wouldn’t be able to get a woman here that soon.”
“It would be difficult.”
Both men fell silent.
“I’m sorry, Beckett,” Thatcher finally said.
“Reckon I’ll figure something else out.”
“And if you don’t?” Amelia couldn’t hold back the question.
Beckett glanced at her before focusing on his gloved hands, holding the reins of his horse. “It’s obvious you’re happy with Thatcher, so I don’t want you worrying about it.”
“But we feel responsible—” she started.
“We want to help,” Thatcher said at the same time.
Beckett was quiet for several heartbeats. “Reckon if you hear of a woman looking to get married, you can pass along my name.”
Thatcher nodded.
“Would you consider Eileen?” Amelia asked. “She might still be on her way.”
Beckett’s brows rose with skepticism, but he didn’t immediately say no.
“We can add a postscript to the letter to her,” Thatcher added, patting his coat pocket again, “and let her know about you.”
“We don’t know anything about each other.”
“She’s a very nice woman. But I’ll let you read her letters and determine that for yourself.”
Amelia had already pulled the letters out from where she’d hidden them. Thankfully, Thatcher had only laughed about the incident.
Beckett pressed his lips together as though he might protest. But then he gave a curt nod. “Maybe.”
Amelia allowed herself a full breath for the first time since seeing Beckett riding down the road toward them. Was it really possible he wouldn’t oppose her staying with Thatcher?
Thatcher met her gaze, his eyes brimming with hope. I love you, he mouthed with a soft smile.
I love you too, she mouthed back, wanting to span the distance between their horses and take his hand in hers. But she held herself back.
Catching sight of their private exchange, Beckett shifted in his saddle and peered at the muddy road.
A part of her felt sorry for him. On the other hand, she was mostly relieved that he was being gracious about letting her out of their bargain.
“Thank you, Beckett,” she offered.
“Don’t worry about it.” He was still focused on the ground. “It appears you’re happy with Thatcher, and I know for a fact I wouldn’t have been able to make you that happy.”
She hadn’t expected anyone to make her this happy. But Thatcher did, and she wanted to make him happy in return. “Maybe someday you’ll find the right person too, and then you’ll be surprised at how much joy you find in the relationship.”
He shrugged as if he didn’t believe that was possible. “My reason for needing to get married by my birthday is pretty selfish anyway. So if it doesn’t happen, it serves me right for trying to use a woman for selfish gain.”
“I don’t suppose any of us are without some selfish motivation.
” She only had to think about her situation—the need to escape from her community, the need to get away from Geoff and the danger she’d felt around him, the need for a man to take care of her, the need for a father for her unborn child.
All of it had been selfish too, so she couldn’t fault Beckett.
“We probably wouldn’t have signed up for the mail-order service if we didn’t have needs. ”
“Very true,” Thatcher responded before Beckett could. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Beckett.”
Beckett just gathered up his horse’s reins. “I’m heading into town to make sure I clear up the misunderstanding about the gelding. I spouted off at the mouth more than I should have, and I want people to know that none of it was your fault, that it was all mine.”
“That’s a nice thing to do.” Thatcher’s horse took a step back, squelching in the mud.
“It’s the least I can do to make it up to you.” Within seconds, Beckett was riding away, leaving her and Thatcher alone, staring after him in the morning sunshine.
She felt suddenly weak with relief. The situation could have ended in disaster with someone getting hurt. But thankfully, Beckett had been reasonable and understanding. They’d worked out an arrangement for both Eileen and Beckett—if Eileen was agreeable.
Were she and Thatcher untangled from the mess of their marriage mix-up? She could only hope they were finally free to start a life of their own.