Epilogue

ONE MONTH LATER

Dearest Polly,

Two weeks after the wedding, I’m still not used to people calling me Mrs. van Duren. After nearly nineteen years with one name, it feels odd to be addressed by another. Yet I couldn’t be happier about the change.

You were right all along, sister. Pieter is everything I ever wanted in a man. Not perfect, but wonderful just the same. And Liam is such a blessing to us. He’s pushing up on his elbows these days and has figured out how to roll onto his back. Such a clever lad. Soon he’ll have the entire roll mastered, and I’ll really need to stay on my toes.

Life in Snyder is good. It’s a rougher town than Harper’s Station, but that’s to be expected in a place founded by a former buffalo hunter. Word has spread about my work as a healer, though, and some of the women around town are seeking my advice.

Pieter’s dairy business is gaining ground. He wants to teach me how to make cheese. Can you imagine? An Irishwoman making Dutch cheese. I told him he’s daft, but I think he believes that to be a term of endearment, for he just smiles and drops a kiss on my cheek whenever I call him that.

I was so thankful to hear that Miss Fester took you on. Not that I doubted she would. She recognizes a fine hand when she sees it and knows your beadwork will fetch her a pretty penny. I pray for you often and hope one day you’ll find—

Liam began to fuss, waking from his morning nap earlier than expected. Claire set down her pen and started to get up from the desk, but Pieter was faster.

“I’ve got him,” he said, picking up the baby from where she’d laid him in the middle of the bed. Pieter made shushing noises and cradled the child in his arms. He paced the small room, his deep voice crooning a Dutch lullaby.

Slaap, kindje, slaap.

Daar buiten loopt een schaap.

Een schaap met witte voetjes,

Dat drinkt zijn melk zo zoetjes.

Something about a sheep with white feet walking and drinking sweet milk. Claire smiled to herself as she listened to her husband’s fine voice. ’Twas a fitting song for a dairyman’s son.

Her old room at the clinic was barely large enough for her husband to take four steps before he had to change direction, but Pieter didn’t seem to mind. They’d arrived in Harper’s Station last night for the groundbreaking ceremony scheduled for this morning, and Maybelle had been kind enough to welcome them back to the clinic.

Claire glanced around the small space. So many memories in this room. In this town. Dear friends—some of whom she hadn’t seen in months.

“Is he settled enough for an outing?” she asked, suddenly desperate to reunite with the women who had meant so much to her when her life had been falling apart. She crossed the floor to meet Pieter pacing back from the door. “I know it’s a bit early yet, but I’m dyin’ to see everyone. Surely at least Emma will be out and about, settin’ everythin’ to rights afore the ceremony. Would ye mind if we took a stroll through town to see?”

Pieter smiled that heart-melting half-smile of his and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Lead the way, my love.”

Oh, how she loved this man. On impulse, she rose up on her tiptoes, grabbed his face with both hands, and kissed him. He cooperated with admirable enthusiasm, despite the fact that his hands were tied up with Liam. By the time she pulled away, both of them were breathing a touch more raggedly than before.

Claire laughed, then spun away from him, dancing toward the door.

“It’s not nice to tease a man like that, wife,” Pieter growled.

Full of mischief, Claire twirled back to face him, a saucy retort on her tongue. A retort that never made it past her lips, for her husband had deftly shifted their son to one arm, freeing his other to wrap around her waist with unyielding strength. He pulled her tightly to him and took his turn in their war of kisses.

A war that raged far longer than either of them had intended. By the time they finally left the clinic, Liam was wide awake, and all of Harper’s Station had gathered at the groundbreaking site—including the Clark family, Claire was happy to see, fully recovered from their own bout of measles. She waved to Beulah as she walked past the station house where the children were climbing the fence, trying to pet Malachi’s horse.

“Claire!” Helen Dunbar, the dark-haired woman who had always been so reserved and somber, grinned wide enough to rival the Wichita River as she approached. “Look, Lee.”

The tall man at Helen’s side pivoted to face the late arrivals. “Miss Nevin.” He dipped his chin. “Good to see you again.”

“’Tis Mrs. van Duren now,” Claire corrected, nodding to the man at her side. “This is me husband, Pieter, and our son, Liam.”

Helen frowned. “But you weren’t expecting when I left town a few months back. How . . . ?”

Claire smiled, not embarrassed in the slightest. How could she be, when her sister’s gift had granted her the family she’d always longed for? “Liam is my nephew by blood but the son of me heart.”

Mr. Dunbar limped slightly as he made his way to Pieter’s side and extended his hand. “Good to know you, sir. Did your wife tell you about the time she saved my life?”

Pieter’s eyes widened as he shot Claire a look.

“Don’t be lookin’ at me like that, Pieter van Duren. A girl has to have a few mysteries about her to keep life interestin’. Besides, Helen did all the real nursin’. I just sewed him up and applied one of me mam’s bread poultices to help clear out the infection.”

The Pinkerton grinned. “I don’t think either of us will have to worry about life ever being dull with these two spitfires running circles around us.”

Pieter nodded, his eyes warm as he met Claire’s gaze. “Nope.”

Emma Shaw surged into their midst, making an immediate grab for Liam. “Give me that boy, you thief.” She mock scowled at Pieter before turning her full attention on the babe who had lived with her for nearly a month during Claire’s quarantine. “Auntie Em missed you, Mr. Liam. Yes, she did.” She held him in front of her face and buried her nose in his belly, cooing all the while. “I can’t believe your mean old daddy stole you away from me and took you off to Snyder. So far. You better make him bring you back to see me on a regular basis, or I’ll sic Uncle Mal on him. Yes, I will.”

Everyone chuckled, including Malachi himself, who traipsed up behind his wife and slipped one arm around her thickening waist while offering a finger to Liam to grab. The babe giggled and clasped the offering, shaking his prize as if he’d just captured a dragon’s tail.

“Can I play with the baby, Ma?” A young lad bounded up to the group, headed straight for Emma and Liam.

“Maybe after the ceremony, Lewis. If his mother says it’s all right.” Tori Porter smiled an apology to Claire as she followed in her son’s wake. “He’s missed having Liam to boss around and share all his manly wisdom with.”

Claire chuckled softly, and Liam gave a squeal when Emma lowered him to Lewis’s level. “Judging by the sound of things, I’d say the missin’ was mutual. We’ll definitely get them together after the groundbreakin’.” Claire leaned close to Tori and whispered, “Get Lewis some practice for bein’ a big brother, hmm?”

Tori’s fair skin turned pink. She hadn’t intimated anything, but there was a secret glow about her that made Claire’s imagination spark.

A newcomer approached the group, sparing Tori from having to answer—a quiet, petite woman escorted by a man in a dapper suit and spectacles.

“Grace!” Claire cried and immediately moved to embrace her friend. “I haven’t set eyes on ye in ages! ’Tis so good to see ye. And on such a wonderful occasion.” She stepped back and motioned to the shovel that someone—Emma, no doubt—had tied a giant red bow around and propped against the west end of the station house paddock fence. “This women’s aid refuge is such a grand idea.”

Grace blushed prettily, then nodded toward her husband. “Amos is the true mastermind. I wanted to donate the funds back to the town as thanks for being my sanctuary for so many months, but Amos came up with the idea for a building to provide shelter for ladies in similar circumstances. He’s quite clever with things like that.”

Mr. Bledsoe covered the hand Grace had laid upon his arm with his own, the movement brimming with such affection that Claire couldn’t help but move a step closer to her own man, seeking the same connection—one Pieter readily supplied by placing his warm hand on the small of her back.

“A refuge seemed like the best way to honor what Harper’s Station stands for, especially now that citizens of the male persuasion are working their way into the community,” Amos said, his eyes lighting with humor as he glanced from one man to another in their circle.

Grace grinned at the ladies. “My Amos is very forward-thinking.”

“He rides a mean bicycle, too,” a crotchety voice added to the convivial gathering. “And don’t think I’m going to let you leave without giving me another lesson, young man.” Henry Chandler shook a scolding finger at Amos Bledsoe. “You still haven’t taught me how to do those leaping stops of yours.”

“Heaven forbid, Aunt Henry,” Emma exclaimed before Mr. Bledsoe could give an answer. “You’ll give me heart palpitations. And you know that’s not good for me in my condition.”

“Bah! Your condition’s as hearty as ever. You take after my side of the family.”

Claire grinned at the two older ladies who’d joined the group. As the elder Chandler sister matched wits with Emma, Claire focused on the younger. “How I’ve missed ye, Bertie.”

“And I’ve missed you, dear. All of you.” Bertie Chandler, the rounder, softer of the two Chandler sisters, embraced Grace and Helen on her way to Claire. She encircled Claire in a warm hug, then released her to clasp her hand. “I think of you every time I use that beautiful bread cloth you embroidered for me, but it’s not the same as seeing your lovely self in person. Still knotted to that young man of yours, I see.” Her knowing smile brought an answering grin to Claire’s face. After her recovery from the measles, she’d shown Bertie the original bread cloth covered in knots and explained why she’d not had the heart to take them out.

Bertie had encouraged her to keep the cloth tucked away in a special place to bring out whenever times grew rough or even just when Pieter started grating on her nerves. It would serve as a reminder of her commitment, her choice to bind herself to this man and hold fast to him.

“Adding new knots every day,” Claire said. “I do believe we’re so well tangled we’ll never be free of each other.”

Bertie’s eyes glowed with pleasure. “Exactly as the Lord intended. ‘What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.’”

“Aye, there’ll be no asunderin’ with us,” Claire vowed, seeking Pieter out where he stood among the men. His head turned as if he sensed her regard, and the heat of his golden-brown gaze warmed her down to her toes. “Just love, trust, and enough forgiveness and laughter to keep us smilin’ the rest of our days.”

Keep reading for a special sample of More Than Meets the Eye by Karen Witemeyer.