Page 150 of The Ranger

They stood and made their way around to the front of the house. The Van Cleets were climbing out of their buggy. Mounted on a horse just behind it was Markhel.

Maida backed up a few steps.

“Sweetheart,” Mama whispered. “Let’s see what they want.”

Maida studied her. Mama’s voice was neutral. Maybe she didn’t want to talk to Markhel anymore than she did.

She watched him dismount as Cyrus helped Polly down. He patted his horse’s neck, a big black gelding from the looks of him, and head for the hitching post in front of the house.

“Cyrus, Polly, what brings you out here?” Mama asked.

“Why, to lend a hand of course. Grandma and the others aren’t far behind.” Cyrus took a bucket of tools from the buggy. “The dance is just a few days away, and we need to get that barn decorated. Grandma said so and you know how she gets once she makes her mind up about something.” He grinned at them and held up the bucket. “Is there anymore cleaning that needs to be done?”

“No, not really,” Mama said. “Irene, Wilfred, Grandma and Doc were out here and took care of a lot of it.”

“We’ll just take a peek at it and see if they left any work for us. If not, give us what decorations have been made so far and we’ll put them up.” He took Polly by the hand, gave Maida a little wave, and they headed for the barn.

Mama, her mouth half-open, watched them saunter off, then looked at the wagon coming over the rise. “There’s Grandma Waller and the rest of her friends.” Her hands went to her hips. “We don’t have that many decorations finished.”

“Have them make some.”

They turned to Markhel who approached slowly, a hint of caution in his eyes.

Maida looked at him and her heart moved. She felt it before, a day or two ago. What did it mean?

“Mrs. Comfort,” he greeted with a nod. He then turned to Maida and she noticed he had one hand behind his back. He gave her a slight bow and produced a small handful of flowers. “For you.” He offered them to her as Mama gasped in surprise.

Maida stared at them. They were daisies. Before she could stop herself, she gave him a tiny smile. Okay, so he brought her some flowers, daisies no less. But she was still mad at him. Had he now been reduced to plucking daisies to save his own skin?

“Maida,” Mama said and nudged her with an elbow. “Don’t be rude.”

She mashed her lips together so she wouldn’t say something she that would let him know she’d changed her mind. Problem was her heart began to race, as if it just decided to wake up, and was off and running.

The other wagon pulled into the barnyard, giving her a few extra seconds to stall the inevitable.

Grandma Waller waved. She had the Mulligans and Dunnigans with her.

Mama waived back and headed for their wagon.

“Shouldn’t you help them?” Maida nodded at the wagon of elderly folks.

Markhel glanced that way, then took a step toward her. “After you take these.” He held the bouquet up and wiggled it before her.

“Daisies,” she said. “Um, thank you.”

Another wagon came over the rise. “Land sakes, who’s that?”

“That would be his royal highness and his wife.” Markhel looked around as if he’d never been there before.

She watched him a moment as her heart began to ache. Pain filled her senses, but it wasn’t a physical pain. No, this was heart break. It had to be.

Tears stung the backs of her eyes as she watched him stand before her. This was not the wild man Grandma said could not be tamed. This was... just Markhel, and she noticed how young he was. Before she could stop herself, she blurted, “How old are you?”

His eyes met hers. “I am but five and twenty.” His eyes fixed on her, and he began to slowly pace. “You are eighteen. Old enough to marry.”

She looked at the ground. “Yes.” Her heart fluttered, and she put a hand over her chest.

“You...wish to marry?” he asked, hopeful.

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