Page 37 of A Groom for Heather
“Better than peppermint sticks?”
“Yes. For every jar I hit, I get a kiss.”
He lifted his head and looked at Heather. “That just might work. Dalton?” she said softly putting her hand on his arm.”
“Yes?”
“I think we should get married.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. That way we can adopt the children.”
“But then you’ll be leaving.”
Heather shook her head. “No. Last Chance is my home. It is our home. I want to be a family. Here with you.”
Dalton contained his emotion. He wanted nothing better than to jump and yell. With his free hand, he grabbed hers, wrapping it in his warmth. “What about the people in town? You said you had to leave. You didn’t have a choice.”
“Those are just stories. I can’t control what they say about me.”
He gave her a wink. “Good girl.”
“I’ll speak to Pastor Collins after the memorial ceremony and apologize for my behavior.”
“I think that is a fine idea, Heather.”
“One more thing, Dalton.” He raised his eyebrow. “I’ll give you two kisses.”
Laughter rang across the pasture. “Yes ma’am.” He lifted the rifle back up to his shoulder and aimed.
Pulling the trigger, pellets flew, and the jar exploded. He let out a whoop. Putting the gun on the ground, he pulled the woman he loved in his arms. “I’ll take those kisses now, Heather Barnes.”
“Soon to be James,” she replied as she pulled him down to receive his reward.
September 1879
Dalton knelt before the wooden cross and traced his fingers across the letters that were carved in the wood. Wolfe Laingsburg had done a beautiful job on the crosses that were lined in rows along the edge of the cemetery. There would be a prayer service in the park in two weeks on the first anniversary of the blizzard that killed so many men.But right now, Dalton just wanted to be alone.Heather stopped by to check on Millie and then she and the children would soon join him.
Standing, he took off his hat and worried the brown felt between his fingers. “I... Uhm… I don’t know what to say.” He pushed his fingers through his hair and pointed at the cross with his hat. “I’m sorry that this happened to you. I know Heather misses you a great deal. But as terrible as it sounds, I’m glad I was able to get to know her. That wouldn’t have happened…” he gestured around the cemetery. “Well, you know.”
Shifting from foot to foot, Dalton’s gaze traveled down the row of crosses, there were so many of them.
The sound of the waves lapping against the shore soothed his nerves. He could see the ferry on the other side of the river. It was calm and peaceful underneath the trees. Dalton turned back to the marker.
“I just want to tell you, Jackson, Heather knows I’m not here to replace you. You won’t be forgotten. I love her just as much as you did.” He scratched his chin as a smile broke out. “She told me we are going to have a baby. Due sometime in the spring. I’d like to name that child after you. I think Jackson James has a nice ring to it, don’t you?” Dalton knelt once more in front of the memorial. “If it’s a girl, we’ll figure that out then. I’ll take care of Heather. I promise you. And those kids too. We are a family now. I’d like to come to visit from time to time. Just to talk if that is alright.” The sound of a bird carried over the cemetery as if Jackson were responding. “She tells me stories about you. I hope I’m half the husband that you were.”
Dalton patted the cross and recited a quick prayer; a verse he had memorized since childhood. With a softamen,he stood and looked around the cemetery to find his wife and children.
Heather was coming across the park with a bouquet of small purple and pink flowers in her hand. The children carried the same flowers as well as several long lilies. Dalton recognized them as the flowers that grew along the creek that ran between the two properties. He chuckled as he spied the bottom of Cecily’s skirt caked in mud. Arthur had mud on his shirt from where he wiped his hands.
Life would never be dull with those children around.
His wife never mentioned his shortcoming to anyone in town and Dalton simply ignored the stories of his accomplishments on the prairie. Heather practiced marksmanship with him every evening and now a gun felt comfortable in his hand. He still vowed never to shoot another human being, but now he could protect his family if needed.
Heather spied him and waved. He lifted his hand in greeting and walked towards them, meeting them halfway. Lifting his hands, he cupped Heather’s chin and gently pressed his lips to hers. When he broke the kiss, her eyes were closed, and he could hear her softly sigh. Her lashes fluttered as she opened her eyes and smiled.
“I love you,” she whispered.
