Chapter 23
“Thata girl,” Amelia, at the center of the corral, crooned to Queen as the horse trotted in a circle. “You’re looking beautiful and strong.”
The early March day held a hint of spring. The sunshine was warm on Amelia’s head and on her face. Though the heaviest snowfalls and cold of the high-country winter had passed according to Thatcher, he insisted they could still have plenty more snow and cold before summer came.
Over the past weeks, Queen had healed well.
Although she wasn’t ready yet to have a rider, she was able to move again.
Thatcher predicted she would probably be ready to bear weight in about a month.
Although Amelia had enjoyed riding with Thatcher on his horse, the saddle had quickly grown too small as the baby grew.
Thatcher had finally agreed to borrow one of Maverick Oakley’s horses, but only as payment for helping to vaccinate High Country Ranch’s cattle from blackleg.
Amelia rested a hand on her abdomen, which was well-rounded and getting even bigger with every passing day. Thatcher had started collecting baby equipment and furniture, always coming back from town with one item or another, possibly more excited about the baby than even she was.
As Rusty stood and began to wag his tail and limp down the lane, she lifted a hand to her eyes to shield them, squinting in the direction of town. Sure enough, a horse and rider were visible through the trees. Thatcher was home.
Her heart thudded with an extra beat at the prospect of being in his arms in just moments. Being against him and in his arms was her favorite spot to be, and she spent as much time as possible there.
She smiled and ducked her head, almost embarrassed at how much time they spent in each other’s arms. She knew their days and nights would soon be filled with taking care of the baby and eventually more children.
But for now, she was enjoying these few months of having Thatcher to herself.
And he made it obvious every day that he was enjoying it too.
“That’s a good effort today, Your Majesty.” Amelia stepped up to Queen and took her lead line. “Time for a rest.”
Amelia brushed a hand down the horse’s glossy black flank, her bracelet jangling with a new little button of a baby chick because she’d single-handedly saved an entire batch of abandoned chicks from dying by tending to them for days.
Once her baby was born, she knew she wouldn’t be able to go with Thatcher quite as often. He’d indicated his mother had often brought him and his siblings along with her when she’d still been assisting her father and that they’d loved going. Amelia hoped she could figure out a way to do that too.
As it was, she was slowing down—or at least trying to—so that she didn’t cause the baby any problems. She hated being away from Thatcher even for a few hours, but the time apart always made their reunions sweet.
As the pounding of Thatcher’s horse’s hooves drew nearer, she crossed to the corral gate and exited just as he turned the bend around the cabin and came into full view.
The sight of him, as always, sent a flush of rapid desire through her.
She loved everything about him from his sturdy frame to his bulky shoulders to his thick legs.
He was built of solid split rails, strong and secure.
He tipped up his hat, revealing his wide, boyish face with all its charm. His eyes were alight and his smile already in place.
She lifted a hand in greeting and smiled back, the happiness of seeing him swelling in her chest and making her wonder how she’d ever gotten along without him.
The truth was, she hadn’t. He’d been the one to show her she had worth and how to really live, and she was grateful every day for the mail-order-bride mix-up that had brought them together.
In the next moment, he was reining in and dismounting. She was right there waiting, and he stepped in and wrapped her up in his arms.
“I missed you,” he whispered as he pressed a kiss against her head.
She loved that he was so expressive and never shy about telling her how he felt. And it amazed her that he always felt so strongly about her, missing her and loving her and appreciating her.
She nestled in against him and breathed out a contented sigh. Only one thing would make her more content, and that was kissing him. She pushed back enough from him that she could rise up on her toes and capture his mouth in a hungry kiss.
He kissed her back hungrily for only a moment before pulling away.
She started to protest, wrapping her arms around his neck and intending to drag him back down.
But he tugged something out of his pocket. “I got a letter from Eileen.”
Amelia froze. It had been over two months since they’d sent the letter to Eileen about their marriage mix-up.
A part of Amelia had just wanted to forget all about Eileen and hope they never heard back from her.
Another part of her wanted Eileen to come and agree to marry Beckett, who was still counting on that possibility before his thirtieth birthday.
Thatcher released her and then held up the envelope.
“What does it say?” Amelia asked.
“I haven’t opened it yet. I was waiting to read it with you.” His eyes held a gravity now that seemed to match the gravity that had fallen over Amelia.
She nodded and then watched wordlessly as Thatcher opened the envelope, took out a sheet, and unfolded it.
“‘Dear Thatcher,’” he started, “‘thank you for your letter informing me of how your circumstances have changed. I would have done the same, but I became very ill for many weeks and was unable to write to you regarding my delay. I was nearly on my deathbed at one point and feared I would not live, much less marry. I am recovering now finally, but I am not strong enough, and may never again be, to travel across the country. So I do release you from any obligation to me. It would appear the mail-order-bride mix-up was for the best. I wish you all the best in your marriage. Sincerely, Eileen. P.S. I do thank you for the suggestion of another man there who is willing to wed me, but I regret that I cannot take up the offer.’”
When Thatcher finished reading it, he looked at Amelia, his eyes wide with wonder.
A sense of relief washed through Amelia. “I’m sorry for Eileen’s illness, but I cannot deny that I’m glad she’s not still expecting to get married to you.”
“I feel the same way.” Thatcher scanned the letter again, silently rereading it. “The only trouble is that I was hoping she’d be willing to marry Beckett.”
Before mailing their original letter to Eileen, Amelia and Thatcher had added a postscript suggesting the possibility of marrying another man in the area, one who would be agreeable to the arrangement. After meeting Beckett on the road that day, they’d felt it was only right to do so.
“Beckett will be disappointed.” Thatcher peered north in the direction of the Noble Ranch.
“Yes, but he also understood it was only a possibility and not a certainty.”
They’d encountered Beckett a few times over the past couple of months, and he’d been gracious to them, had even apologized to Thatcher again.
True to his word, Beckett had helped repair Thatcher’s reputation, letting everyone know that he’d been the one in the wrong about his gelding and not Thatcher.
Of course, people had continued to call on Thatcher for his services, many, like Maverick, respecting Thatcher even more as a result of the incident.
Whatever the case, Beckett would be in a bind if he didn’t find a wife soon. Amelia didn’t know what he would do to find a woman by May, but she would pray that somehow things would work out for him—not only in finding a wife but also in falling in love.
Now that she’d fallen in love, she’d seen firsthand the blessings, and she was more than desirous that others get their chance at love too.
Thatcher began to fold the letter. “Let’s pray for Providence to provide a miracle for Beckett the same way He did for me.”
Amelia smiled up at him. “So I’m your miracle, am I?”
“Yes, you are.” He tucked the letter in his duster pocket and then reached for her.
She went to him willingly—more than willingly. As he wrapped her up against him, she wound her arms around his neck, eager for his touch and his closeness. “I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetheart, more than you could ever know.” His blue eyes reflected the cloudless sky and contained an endless love.
She tipped up the brim of his cowboy hat and lifted on her toes so that her lips were almost touching his. “You were and always will be my favorite cowboy.”
Then she pressed her lips to his and showed him just how much she favored him over everyone and everything.