to Pete’s proposal. And spend the rest of her life in a forced marriage neither of them truly wanted.
She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t do it.
Chapter Four
W ith tension scratching under his skin, Pete pushed out the back door of the boardinghouse and set off at a brisk pace.
Rebecca might have just refused his proposal, but he wasn’t giving up. He would convince her to marry him. For her sake, not his own. It was not a matter of if, but when.
The how? Now, that was the problem.
Lord, I could use a little guidance here.
Eyes locked on the horizon, Pete rounded onto Main Street. The air was thick with the pleasant smells of summer, the scent equal parts sweet wildflowers and the tang of fresh-cut timber.
It was no wonder he loved July on the prairie. He loved every month on the prairie, even when the harsh snows hit in winter. Sadly, Sarah had never been happy in High Plains.
Pete should have known she wouldn’t adapt to life on the frontier. She’d always been fragile, frail even. Carrying his child had been the final blow to her uncertain health.
He flexed his fingers several times, clamped his lips tightly together. He hated thinking about Sarah. Memoriesof her always made him restless and uneasy. He missed her, missed what might have been, missed the child he’d lost along with his wife. There were too many regrets, too much blame, so he cleared his mind, a growing habit since Sarah’s death.
Tense, hands brushing his thighs, he prowled around the perimeter of what would eventually become the new town hall.
The original building had been leveled by the tornado. Miraculously, neither the church on its right nor the schoolhouse on its left had been harmed. Some said the tornado had chosen one building over the others, as though it had a mind of its own. Pete believed otherwise. The Lord had protected the church and the schoolhouse.
Pivoting on his heel, he retraced his path along the perimeter of the building. So far, only the frame, the east wall and several window casings had been constructed. There was a lot of work still to do to rebuild the town.
Frustration rose, strong and urgent. And then, as if to taunt him, his mind circled back to Rebecca and the gossip that had started about them. A sickening dread dropped in his stomach. Just as he had failed Sarah, he was going to fail Rebecca.
Marry her, a voice blazed through his mind. Today. Marry her today. Before it’s too late.
Shocked at the intensity of the thought, and the tightening around his heart, Pete paced to his left, back to his right, and then rounded to the front of the building. With his gaze unfocused, he lifted his face toward heaven.
Lord, how am I supposed to convince Rebecca that marriage is our best course of action when we hardly know each other? What if this doesn’t work out for her? What if she ends up hurt? What if—
“Brooding again, Benjamin?”
Unhappy with the interruption, Pete crammed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Don’t push me, Zeb.” He kept his gaze locked on the sky above. “I’ve already been pushed enough for one day.”
“Don’t doubt it for a minute.”
Unsure what he heard in the other man’s tone, Pete swung around to glare at his friend. But instead of judgment, or even sarcasm, he saw only rough understanding staring back at him.
As the owner of the town’s only mill and a town founder, Zeb Garrison was the wealthiest man in High Plains. Yet today, like most days, he was dressed in ordinary work clothes. Dark trousers, muslin shirt, broad-brimmed hat plopped over his black hair, all were covered with a thin layer of sawdust.
“Been hard at work, I see.”
Zeb shrugged. “Town can’t be rebuilt without lumber.”
Pete heard the determination below the mildly spoken words. He knew firsthand just how strong his friend’s commitment was to High Plains and its people. Zeb was one of Pete’s oldest friends, and he had been the one to coax Pete to
She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t do it.
Chapter Four
W ith tension scratching under his skin, Pete pushed out the back door of the boardinghouse and set off at a brisk pace.
Rebecca might have just refused his proposal, but he wasn’t giving up. He would convince her to marry him. For her sake, not his own. It was not a matter of if, but when.
The how? Now, that was the problem.
Lord, I could use a little guidance here.
Eyes locked on the horizon, Pete rounded onto Main Street. The air was thick with the pleasant smells of summer, the scent equal parts sweet wildflowers and the tang of fresh-cut timber.
It was no wonder he loved July on the prairie. He loved every month on the prairie, even when the harsh snows hit in winter. Sadly, Sarah had never been happy in High Plains.
Pete should have known she wouldn’t adapt to life on the frontier. She’d always been fragile, frail even. Carrying his child had been the final blow to her uncertain health.
He flexed his fingers several times, clamped his lips tightly together. He hated thinking about Sarah. Memoriesof her always made him restless and uneasy. He missed her, missed what might have been, missed the child he’d lost along with his wife. There were too many regrets, too much blame, so he cleared his mind, a growing habit since Sarah’s death.
Tense, hands brushing his thighs, he prowled around the perimeter of what would eventually become the new town hall.
The original building had been leveled by the tornado. Miraculously, neither the church on its right nor the schoolhouse on its left had been harmed. Some said the tornado had chosen one building over the others, as though it had a mind of its own. Pete believed otherwise. The Lord had protected the church and the schoolhouse.
Pivoting on his heel, he retraced his path along the perimeter of the building. So far, only the frame, the east wall and several window casings had been constructed. There was a lot of work still to do to rebuild the town.
Frustration rose, strong and urgent. And then, as if to taunt him, his mind circled back to Rebecca and the gossip that had started about them. A sickening dread dropped in his stomach. Just as he had failed Sarah, he was going to fail Rebecca.
Marry her, a voice blazed through his mind. Today. Marry her today. Before it’s too late.
Shocked at the intensity of the thought, and the tightening around his heart, Pete paced to his left, back to his right, and then rounded to the front of the building. With his gaze unfocused, he lifted his face toward heaven.
Lord, how am I supposed to convince Rebecca that marriage is our best course of action when we hardly know each other? What if this doesn’t work out for her? What if she ends up hurt? What if—
“Brooding again, Benjamin?”
Unhappy with the interruption, Pete crammed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Don’t push me, Zeb.” He kept his gaze locked on the sky above. “I’ve already been pushed enough for one day.”
“Don’t doubt it for a minute.”
Unsure what he heard in the other man’s tone, Pete swung around to glare at his friend. But instead of judgment, or even sarcasm, he saw only rough understanding staring back at him.
As the owner of the town’s only mill and a town founder, Zeb Garrison was the wealthiest man in High Plains. Yet today, like most days, he was dressed in ordinary work clothes. Dark trousers, muslin shirt, broad-brimmed hat plopped over his black hair, all were covered with a thin layer of sawdust.
“Been hard at work, I see.”
Zeb shrugged. “Town can’t be rebuilt without lumber.”
Pete heard the determination below the mildly spoken words. He knew firsthand just how strong his friend’s commitment was to High Plains and its people. Zeb was one of Pete’s oldest friends, and he had been the one to coax Pete to
Similar Books
