Page 5 of Willing to Wed the Rancher
Franz examined the chain, which had somehow snapped so that the links were broken. How had the rings stayed on? He was lucky they hadn’t fallen off and rolled under the seats.
“These rings are very special to me.” He closed his fist around them, his heart still pumping hard with strange panic. “I thank you for finding them.”
The rings were more than special. They were his way of staying connected to his parents, and he’d worn the rings since the day their dead bodies had been returned to their family estate in Neubrandenburg.
He’d been sixteen and just getting ready to move to Berlin to attend university when the tragedy had happened. An assassin had attempted to take the life of the emperor. In the hail of gunfire, Vater had stepped in and taken the bullet. Unfortunately, Mutter, who had been at Vater’s side, had also been shot.
Vater had become a national hero for saving the emperor, but the accolades and gifts and fame couldn’t make up for the loss, and Franz had felt adrift without his parents for years. Sometimes he still felt as though he were on a ship at sea.
He moved off the train step to allow Wilbur and his parents to finish descending. He thanked them again and said another goodbye. But all the while, his mind was reeling with just how close he’d come to losing his parents’ wedding bands.
As he stood next to the train and crushed the rings in his palm, his heart wouldn’t stop thudding. The first thing he needed to do was find a jewelry shop and have the chain fixed or purchase a new one. He wouldn’t be able to rest until it was done.
He slipped the rings into his trouser pocket, but even then, he couldn’t pry his fingers loose. It was ridiculous, he knew, tofeel so strongly about the rings. But he’d admired both of his parents more than anyone else. And the rings were a constant reminder of everything good, noble, and true that he wanted to become so that he could make them proud.
If they had been alive, they would have praised him for all he’d accomplished and the generous man that he was striving to be. They would have been proud of him... except for one thing—how he’d cut Eric out of his life.
At the blast of a train whistle, he released the rings and withdrew his hand from his pocket.
A heaviness settled over him, and he turned to face the west, where, somewhere in the wilderness, his brother was living with his two children.
For the past six years, Franz had tried to tell himself that the rings and the memories of his parents were all he had left of his family. But deep inside, he knew that wasn’t true. He still had Eric and his two children. Franz could almost hear his parents telling him that he’d been a coward long enough and that it was past time to make peace with his brother.
Franz pushed away from the train and this time let the swell of people passing by move him along. As difficult as coming face-to-face again with Eric would be, he had to do it. He couldn’t delay any longer.
3
“When will you marry Father?” Bianca’s question pestered Clarabelle every bit as much as the gnats flying around them as they neared the lane that led to the Meyers’ farm.
“He met with Mr. Irving, his solicitor, yesterday.” Dieter was walking several steps ahead, swinging a stick like a sword and pretending to fight an imaginary dragon.
“What’s a solicitor?” Bianca gripped Clarabelle’s hand tightly, her steps slowing as if she weren’t quite ready to let Clarabelle leave.
But the afternoon was waning, and Clarabelle had already lagged long enough after school waiting for the children to disperse. With Eric running late, she’d decided to walk Bianca and Dieter home. Now she needed to hurry to her family’s ranch and assist with the chores. Even if her brother Maverick and his new wife Hazel had assured her that she should take all the time she needed at the school, Clarabelle still wanted to be of help.
Yes, she could admit, she also was anxious to be on her way because she didn’t want to chance running into Eric.
Over the past three days since Eric had come to school and officially made his intentions known, she’d been dreading seeing him again. In fact, maybe she ought to wait on the road instead of accompanying the children down the lane to their door. She could watch them well enough from a distance without having to go all the way up to the cabin.
“A solicitor is a person who can marry Miss Oakley and Father.” Dieter paused his pretend battle with the dragon to castBianca an exasperated look, as though she should have already known the answer to her question.
“The reverend is the one who does the marrying,” Clarabelle corrected the young boy gently. “And the solicitor helps take care of the legal details of a marriage.”
Dieter shrugged. “Either way, Father is ready to marry Miss Oakley.”
Bianca tugged on Clarabelle’s arm. “Father’s ready, Miss Oakley.” The girl repeated her brother’s message as if, somehow, Clarabelle hadn’t been able to hear the boy for herself.
Unfortunately, Clarabelle already knew Eric was ready. He’d made that very clear on Mrs. Grover’s front porch. But as ready as Eric was, Clarabelle was far from ready or willing. Not even the past three days of trying to convince herself to go through with it had changed her mind.
Sunshine filtered through the newly budded leaves of the aspens that lined the lane leading to the Meyers’ log cabin. She lifted her face, letting the light and warmth reach beyond the brim of her bonnet to bathe her skin. The air was warm, and the light felt especially good.
The outside of the home was well maintained. The logs were faded from years of weathering, but the chinking was solid. The place had real glass windows, a stone chimney on one end, and the front door and window shutters had been painted forest green.
The area surrounding the house had been cleared to make room for the strawberry and rhubarb patches that Luisa and Eric had cultivated. Over the past few years, they’d steadily increased their production so that they’d become one of the largest producers in the area.
Most of the Meyers’ acreage, however, was devoted to growing hay. Even though in the high elevation they could usually only get in one hay cutting per year, the grass was soughtafter for its high nutritional value, and ranches—including High C Ranch—were willing to pay a premium for the locally grown hay.
“Maybe you can marry Father tonight,” Bianca persisted, “since he’s ready. Then you can move in and start living with us.”
