Regina Scott - The Bride’s Matchmaking Triplets

“Without God’s help,” Brandon was explaining, silver gaze ever-moving, “they would have continued in slavery. Even the right to raise sons was denied them. They were, in effect, orphans, until God made them His family.”

She glanced at the boys. All three had turned their heads toward Brandon. They knew the sound of his voice, trusted it enough to listen. When had she lost such childlike faith?

Could she find it again?

On the altar, Brandon leaned toward the congregation again with a smile, as if he was about to impart a secret. “We have among us today a number of orphans, children left by parents who passed on or could no longer pay their way. They too are part of God’s family. And I believe God is calling on us to help them.”

Around her, men straightened on the wooden pews, ladies raised their heads.

“Even though the drought appears to be behind us, for which we thank God, the effects remain for many in our community,” he told them. “Times for them are hard. We cannot allow our hearts to grow hard as well. Jesus welcomed the little children, warned against hindering them from learning about Him. And He said that when we offer a cup of cool water or a set of warm clothes to those in need, we offer them to Him. There are many needs in Little Horn. Pray this week about what God would have you do to help meet them.”

Elizabeth glanced at Mrs. Tyson to see her wipe a tear from her cheek. Annie held Eli as if she’d never let him go. Theo turned in Elizabeth’s arms and gazed at her so somberly she could not forget that she was the one he and his brothers relied upon.

Am I doing what You want me to do, Father?

Just then the piano began tinkling under Mrs. Hickey’s fingers, and the congregation rose for the concluding hymn. Elizabeth would have liked a moment or two to think about what Brandon had said, but as soon as the song ended, she was surrounded.

“I kept some of our sons’ baby things,” Mrs. Tyson said, rubbing a hand over Theo’s dark hair and earning her a frown from the touchy baby. “They certainly aren’t going to need them again. I’ll bring them to you this week.”

“The blackberry preserves are just about set,” another woman put in. “I’ll give you some.”

Other ladies offered blankets and bonnets. Gents asked if Elizabeth needed help with handling the cart or chopping firewood for the hearth in her room. Jasper and Eli ate up the attention, and even Theo broke into a giggle as Stella tickled him. All Elizabeth could think was that Brandon wielded a great deal of power in Little Horn, for the townsfolk certainly listened to their minister.

One of the last to come forward was Mrs. Hickey, and she was towing an older man with a wide girth.

“Miss Dumont,” she said, pointed nose in the air, “this is Clyde Parker. I understand from Mrs. Arundel that you are desirous of making his acquaintance.”

And the way her wiry brows came down told Elizabeth that the pianist suspected nefarious purpose in the request.

The fellow frowned at Elizabeth. A bulldog of a man, with a neck nearly as wide as his chest, he splayed his bandy legs and put his hands on his hips, eyeing her up and down. His clothes were clean, but wrinkled and well-worn. His battered felt hat seemed as ancient as the lines in his weathered face. Oh, dear. Wasn’t he one of the men who had been suggested as a husband for her?

“Ma’am,” he spit out with a nod of his graying head. He eyed Theo in her arms as if she held a snake. “Pleased to meet you. I hear you’d like to stay in Little Horn.”

“No!” Jasper told him. Mrs. Hickey recoiled, and Mr. Parker frowned. Mrs. Tyson stepped back to quiet the boy.

“It’s a pleasant town,” Elizabeth assured the rancher, wondering how to gracefully make her escape. “Everyone has been so kind.”

“Pastor Stillwater knows her family,” Mrs. Hickey informed Mr. Parker. “He says they were fine people.”

He hadn’t actually said that, and Elizabeth knew many did not consider her uncle so fine anymore.

Mr. Parker nodded. “References are always good. And it seems you like children.”

She liked Jasper, Theo and Eli. “Do you have children, Mr. Parker?” she asked, turning the questions on him.

“My wife, God rest her soul, and I were never blessed.” He cleared his throat as if it hurt to remember, and Elizabeth could not help but like him for that. Then he narrowed his eyes at her. “So, can you cook?”

She had been hoping to interview with someone in the area as a nanny or governess. Did he intend to interview her as a wife? She could think of no kind way to answer him.

Instead, she sniffed the air and made a face. “Oh, dear. I fear I may need to take care of a matter. If you’ll excuse me.”

Mrs. Hickey and Mr. Parker took one look at the baby in her arms and melted back from her as if little Theo carried yellow fever. Elizabeth turned and hurried out of the door. She knew she’d have to fetch Theo’s brothers at some point, but for now she just wanted freedom.

She nearly bumped into Brandon on the front steps. He caught her arm. “Easy. Everything all right?”

Elizabeth pasted on a smile as several of the departing ladies glanced their way. “Fine. Your sermon was very effective. Everyone is offering help.”

He smiled. “Glad to hear it. Let’s hope the members of the Lone Star Cowboy League are similarly accommodating when I tell them we have a house for the children’s home. Say a prayer. They’re meeting after service.”

She wanted to wish him well. It sounded as if a children’s home was badly needed. But if Brandon succeeded in giving one to Little Horn, she could well lose the boys, and her opportunity to get to know him again, forever.

* * *

Brandon stood on the steps, listening to praise for his sermon, commiserating about family concerns and generally bidding farewell to the last members of his congregation. All the while a part of him was aware of Elizabeth at the foot of the steps, settling the boys into the cart.

It had been the same way during service. While he’d made it a point to meet the gaze of every member in attendance at least once, he’d felt himself drawn to her. He’d seen those cinnamon brows rise in surprise, those peach-colored lips purse in concern. He generally spoke about what the Lord put on his heart. He shouldn’t crave her appreciation.

But he did. And he couldn’t help feeling that by championing the children’s home he’d somehow disappointed her.

He couldn’t afford such concerns now. He’d asked Lula May McKay to call a meeting of the Lone Star Cowboy League for right after service, and he knew he had some persuading to do.

Please give me the words, Lord.

It seemed he’d had to choose his words carefully his whole life, to keep from hurting his already-wounded mother, to prevent a blowup with his father. The trait naturally flowed into his work as a minister. Words chosen carefully built sermons, mended hearts and healed lives.

“Powerful sermon, Pastor,” Mrs. Hickey said, strutting out of the church and pausing to frown across the yard. Brandon thought she might be looking for her husband, a warmhearted man who called the community dances, but he knew the moment she spotted Elizabeth, because her gaze narrowed and one foot began tapping under her blue skirts.

“I’m glad you appreciated it, Mrs. Hickey,” he said, drawing her gaze back to him. “But then, I don’t have to tell you to care for widows and orphans. You were among the first to reach out to the triplets.”

She raised her head, the soft pink roses on her hat belying the sharpness of her gaze. “I believe charity starts at home. I expect you’ll be joining us for dinner, Reverend. I plan to eat at four.”