Page 2 of Willing to Wed the Rancher
With her graying hair, the matron was old enough and wealthy enough to spend her days in leisure. But after moving to Breckenridge two years ago with her husband, who was an assayer of gold and silver, she spent her days leading one charitable organization after another, working tirelessly to improve the small town. Just last year she’d petitioned to have a school built, but with only a small number of families having young children, the petition had been delayed.
Instead of putting aside her plans for the school, Mrs. Grover had started teaching in her parlor. Since she knew about Clarabelle’s aspiration to become a teacher, she’d asked Clarabelle to assist in the classroom, and Clarabelle had eagerly done so until Ma had taken to her bed after Pa’s death.
For the past four months, Clarabelle hadn’t been able to assist in the school every day because she’d been tending Ma much of the time. After Ma’s passing two weeks ago, Clarabelle hadn’t missed a day of school since the funeral. Being away from the ranch and spending time with the children helped to keep her mind off missing Ma.
“Miss Oakley?” Eric’s voice squeaked, and he cleared his throat loudly.
At the sight of her father, Bianca let go of Clarabelle’s skirt and skipped toward Eric, a smile lighting up her little face. “Father!”
Dieter, in the middle of bargaining with several other boys, pocketed something and then straightened, his eyes now on his father. The six-year-old had the same fair hair, blue eyes, and stocky build as Eric—was a miniature version except without the facial hair.
As Bianca reached her father, she threw her arms around his legs and clung to him.
Eric absently patted her head but was still looking at Clarabelle. “Miss Oakley? Would you do me the honor of—of—”
Clarabelle’s heart ceased beating. It was already difficult enough for her to say no to anyone privately. It would be nearly impossible if he proposed to her in front of Mrs. Grover and all the children.
She waved a hand toward the spacious hallway with its ivy-print wallpaper and matching ivy-print rugs. “Let’s speak alone, shall we, Mr. Meyer?”
He opened his mouth as if to protest or propose, but then he closed it and nodded.
Clarabelle rapidly crossed the room, and thankfully, Eric backed out of the doorway.
A few minutes later, she stood on the front wraparound porch with him while Bianca and Dieter waited in his wagon, parked in front of the home. With its gabled roof, rising turret, and decorative woodwork around the windows, the home was just as lovely on the outside as it was inside.
Eric had doffed his hat and now twisted the brim, just like he had that day of Ma’s funeral when he’d first made his intentions known. They’d been standing at the graveside with many others,and Eric had approached her to offer his condolences. Bianca had been the one to bring up Eric proposing marriage:“Father says you can become our new Mutti now that you’re not needed at your home.”
Eric had been embarrassed by Bianca’s bold statement, but he hadn’t denied it. Instead, he’d asked Clarabelle to think about it and said he’d pay her a visit soon.
She’d tried to hint that she wasn’t the right woman for him and that she wasn’t ready for marriage or a family, but obviously she hadn’t hinted strongly enough. Now, today, she was left with no choice but to set him straight.
“Miss Oakley.” He stared down the gravel street lined with large Victorian-style homes just as elegant and elaborate as the Grovers’. With the recent discovery of silver in the hills around Summit County and the influx of settlers, most of the homes were new, having been constructed over the past year or two.
As more of the school children stepped outside onto the front porch, Eric paused again, waiting for them to pass.
She had to speak first, before he did, so as soon as the children were out of hearing range, she forced the words out that needed to be said. “Please don’t, Mr. Meyer.”
He’d opened his mouth to say something but now stalled and studied her face, as if trying to read what she’d left unspoken.
“I’m too young.” She tried to offer him the least hurtful explanation without having to tell him that she couldn’t see herself with him—not now, not ever.
“You will be a goot Mutter to Bianca and Dieter.” His statement was filled with a quiet desperation she didn’t understand.
“You’ll find a different woman—”
“Nein.” A frown wrinkled his brow. “Time is run out.”
“Time is run out for what?”
He glanced both ways up and down the street, and his narrowed eyes seemed to take in every detail as though he were expecting enemies to jump out from behind buildings. Then he leaned in and lowered his voice. “I fear for mine safety, Miss Oakley.”
She followed his gaze, half expecting to see men hunkered down ready to shoot at them. But from what she could tell, the only people present were several children walking away from the Grovers’, and one of the mothers of a young student, hurrying up the cross street toward the school.
“I have no one for them left.” Eric reached out as though he intended to take her hands.
She shifted her hands behind her back and clasped them together tightly.
He crossed his arms instead. “Only mine Bruder. He is in Deutschland and will not answer mine letters.”
