Page 24 of Willing to Wed the Rancher
She’d learned so much just watching him. He’d stirred her curiosity and sense of wonder, and she’d wanted to keep going, to learn even more, but their rumbling stomachs had forced them to stop for lunch.
Much to her surprise, he’d asked if they wanted to take their lunch outside and have a picnic. Then together, they’d tended to the chores they’d neglected during the morning. She’d still had some of the garden to finish planting, and he’d headed into the barn with the children to muck stalls and fill the watering troughs.
He’d stayed for supper again, and when they’d finished, he’d acted out an old fairy tale: “Little Red Riding Hood” by the Brothers Grimm. He’d had the children participate with him, helping them get into their characters, showing them how to change their voices and speak their lines, all the while fostering creativity.
Bianca slipped her hand into Clarabelle’s as they watched Franz ride away. “I like Uncle Franz.” The little girl was still attired in a red blanket they’d found in one of the trunks and utilized for her role of Red Riding Hood.
“I like him too.” Dieter was wearing a dark cloak and carrying a blunt axe as the woodsman.
Clarabelle had to swallow hard to keep from saying anything. Because she was sure if she opened her mouth to add that she liked Franz, her declaration would be much too ardent.
As Franz turned onto the main road, he slowed his mount and shifted in his saddle as he’d done last night. Across the distance and past the trees, he was still visible, the last rays of the setting sun gleaming on him.
He sought them out and raised his hand in a final wave. And he was looking directly at her again.
Her heart fluttered with a longing for him that had been building throughout the day. It was a longing she didn’t quite understand—one she’d never experienced before.
She lifted a hand and waved back, satisfied in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time, maybe since before Pa and Ma had died.
What was it about Franz Meyer that made her so happy?
She couldn’t keep from smiling at him as he lingered, looking back at her. Almost as if he couldn’t tear himself away. Which wasn’t true, was it?
Bianca slipped her hand into Clarabelle’s. “Do you like Uncle Franz?”
Clarabelle squeezed the little girl’s hand. “Of course I do. He’s a very nice man.”
“Maybe you can marry him.”
Marry Franz? Clarabelle’s pulse hopped erratically at just the thought—a completely new reaction to marriage, the first of its kind ever. That had to mean something, didn’t it? That what she was feeling for Franz had the potential to become more?
“Then you can still become our mother.” Dieter’s voice filled with excitement. “And Uncle Franz can be our father.”
The children missed their father terribly. The past week had been difficult for them without him, especially at night. Not only did Bianca have a difficult time going to sleep, but she woke up almost every night crying.
Clarabelle knew the children didn’t want to replace their father, but she guessed they were worried about what would happen and wanted a normal life—or as normal as possible after losing both parents.
Was having Franz stay the answer to all the problems?
Even as Clarabelle’s thoughts began to spiral like they were caught in a gust of wind, she sucked in a breath and shut off the air flow to the idea of having more with Franz. “I’m sorry, children. But your Uncle Franz intends to return to Germany.”
Dieter lifted expectant eyes to her. “Maybe if he falls in love with you, he’ll want to stay here.”
“He has an important job there as a professor at a big university.”
“Then we’ll go with him,” Bianca said as if the answer were really that simple.
Franz had already indicated that his life was full enough without the children, much less a wife. “I’m afraid Uncle Franz isn’t the type of man who wants to get married. At twenty-eight, if he’d wanted to get married, I think he already would have.”
The children were silent at her declaration, both of their foreheads furrowed in thought.
Franz had only ridden a dozen paces when a horse and rider traveling north approached him. From the sunlight slanting upon the new rider, Clarabelle recognized her right away. Clementine. Her twin sister was coming home from town. Lately she’d been spending longer days at the general store, helping Mr. Worth with customers as well as selling her candy.
Of course, she still had to make the candy and spent at least two days a week in the ranch kitchen creating her increasingly popular sweets. Clarabelle had often helped, doing anything Clementine needed from her—stirring bubbling pots of syrup, dipping candy into melted chocolate, pouring molds of colorful creations, washing pots and pans and mixing bowls.
Now, as Clementine halted next to Franz, something sharp pinched Clarabelle’s chest. What was Clementine doing talking with Franz? Surely it was nothing more than a friendly greeting. Because earlier, when Franz had mentioned meeting Clementine, he hadn’t seemed enamored or infatuated the way most men were.
Clarabelle’s muscles tensed as Clementine let her head fall back in a laugh in response to something Franz said.
