“You got something on your mind, Son?” Finn Langley studied Patrick with a furrowed brow. “You haven’t heard a word I just said. You’ve had a faraway look in your eyes all day.”

Patrick blinked. It was true that all day he kept repeating the night before, barely able to keep from wanting to rush back. Of course, he couldn’t tell his father. Not yet.

“Been thinking about buying horses. Starting a horse ranch on that land on the other side of the stream.”

His father nodded slowly, as if not fully believing him. “You’ll need to build stables first. That will take a lot of time. But I think it will be a good venture. It’ll make for a pretty view from the main house.” When his father pulled out his own father’s pocket watch, it meant he was pondering. One day Patrick would own the watch engraved with the Langley Motto. Beare and Forebeare.

They’d started calling the new whitewashed home they’d built the main house and it suited Patrick fine. One day, he’d move there and it would be where he’d raise his family. Immediately, Emma came to mind. He wasn’t sure he could take her away when she came up with a plan. He kept stalling, hoping she’d not ask him to take her away.

In the distance, a rider came into view and his father grunted. “Here comes Davis again. I reckon he’s not found his daughter yet.”

“Or he’s going to ask for day work, one of the two,” Patrick replied, his gaze moving in the direction of the cabin, where the man rode from.

Davis pulled his horse up short a few yards from them. His reddened eyes moved from one man to the other. He touched his hat. “Came by to ask again if you’ve seen Emma.” He narrowed his eyes at Patrick. “You know her, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“We haven’t seen her,” Finn replied. “Figured she was back home by now.”

The man spit on the ground. “Nah. She’s probably already in a brothel somewhere. That’s all women are good at when they’re on their own.”

When Patrick started to say something, his father took his arm. Davis grunted. “I best get back.”

Neither Patrick nor his father replied, so the man turned his horse around and galloped away.

“Some men don’t have any appreciation for women. You can’t go fighting with everyone who spouts stupidity, Patrick.”

What kind of life did Emma run from? Obviously, her father was not a caring man. Davis struck him as the kind who would lash out and not just with words.

“Let’s get back to work. Your ma is making chicken and dumplings for supper.”

When he arrived at the cabin, it was dark. At once, he ran to Emma’s bedroom. She was curled in the bed, the blankets wrapped around her.

“Emma?” He touched her shoulder. “Are you not well?”

The house was frigid as no fire was lit in either the fireplace or the stove.

“I’m fine, just scared a bit. My father came by.” Her words were groggy. “I must have fallen asleep.”

Patrick stepped back, unsure of what to say. “I’ll get a fire started and make some coffee. I brought some chicken and dumplings Ma made.”

There was a resolution in her gaze he’d seen before. It had been when she’d told him she was going as far away as possible. Her father’s visit no doubt brought back the reality that she’d not be safe as long as she remained this close to her family.

Moments later, she sat across the table from him. She ate in silence, her eyes moving anywhere but to his face.

Patrick searched for something to talk about. “I told Pa today that I’m going to start a horse ranch. First thing for me to do is build a stable for them. That means I’ll have to hire some men.”

Emma attempted at a smile and failed. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Hoping to distract her, Patrick continued. “I’ll have to go somewhere to get purebreds that will bring a good price. I don’t mind cattle ranching, but my heart’s always been with horses.”

“I think it’s time for me to move on.” Still not looking at him, she pushed the plate away. “I can’t stay here forever. You have plans, probably want to marry and start a family. Can’t very well do that with me here.”

She tried without success to disguise a sniff with a cough.

“What is your plan, Emma? Winter will be here soon. You can’t be out there without somewhere to stay.”

“I understand that.” She jumped to her feet and went to the fireplace. “I just don’t know what to do. I was going to ask you to take me to the next town over so that I could inquire about housekeeping work. I can afford to stay at the hotel for a few days.”

Patrick let out a long breath. “Stay here for now. We’ll make do.”

“No.” She turned and teary eyes bored into his. “Please take me tomorrow. Please.” Emma ran out of the room and to the bedroom where she slept. She closed the door firmly behind her while Patrick remained at the table, unsure what to do.

If anything, it was clear she could not go and be without shelter or food. An idea struck him and he leaned forward, scratching at his beard. There was something he could do that would not only help her, but him as well.

“I’ve never been to Millerstown. Have you?” Emma’s stomach had been in knots all day. While she’d waited for Patrick to make excuses to his father for not working and as they’d ridden southeast, she could not stop the flip-flopping in her belly.

Patrick wore his hat low on his head and his jacket collar turned up to help keep warm. His breath formed a smoky cloud as he spoke. “Yes, a few times. They have a huge county fair in the spring Ma likes to attend.”

“So it’s bigger than New Dawn Springs?”

“A bit, yes.”

He’d barely spoken to her, seeming deep in thought. It was hard to tell if he was angry or glad to see her by the blank expression on his face. Emma could barely stand it. Just when she was about to ask him how he felt, a small church with a house next to it came into view.

Patrick guided the horse toward it and turned to her. “We’re getting married.”

“What?” She stared at the church agog. “No, we are not!” Emma hit his shoulder. “Stop the wagon right now. Turn it around.”

The crazy man grinned at her. “What is it? Stop or turn around?”

“This is not funny, Patrick Langley. You can’t marry me. I can’t let you do this.” At the churning of her stomach, Emma wondered if she was about to get sick.

He slowed the horses, but did not stop. “Why is that? I need a wife and you need a home. Your father can’t touch you as long as you're my wife.”

“But...consider your parents...you don’t want someone like me for a wife.”

His gaze moved to her lips and then down to her chest. “Yeah, I do.”

Despite the situation, Emma blushed and swallowed at his implication. “That is not reason enough.”

He took her hand and pulled it up to his lips. “Emma Davis, marry me. I’ll give you a good life. We can grow to care for each other. Of that, I’m sure.”

Because she already cared for him, it was imperative she not allow him to ruin his life. Emma yanked her hand away. “I can’t cook or sew. I don’t know a thing about anything. I’ve lived a cloistered life and can barely read. You don’t want me for a wife. There are plenty of women out there who are more deserving.”

“I’ve made up my mind. You’ll get to know that once I do, I don’t change it. Now, Emma, be civil, we’re here. Pastor Donovan Milligan and his wife are kind people. You’ll like them.”

He climbed down and rounded the wagon. When he helped her down, Patrick did not release her until she looked up at him. “You are who I wish to marry. All that other stuff you mentioned, we’ll figure it out together. Understand?”

It was hard to keep from crying, so Emma bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Yes.”

A heavyset man with thinning hair, spectacles and a broad smile opened the door. “Well, I’ll be. Patrick Langley, I haven’t seen you or your kin in a month of Sundays. Come in, come in, it’s right cold out there.” His friendly gaze moved to Emma. “And who is this lovely lady?”

“This is Emma Davis, Preacher. We’ve come to get married.” Patrick spoke in an easy, even tone, a soft smile on his lips. “Can’t put it off, I’m afraid.”

“Well goodness, Patrick, what have you done?” A woman walked in. Her gray-streaked brown hair was pulled back into a flattering hairstyle. She held a dishcloth in one hand and placed the other over her ample chest. “Getting married? I assume your parents are not aware.”

“No, Mrs. Milligan, they are not. But I plan to go straight there when we leave here.”

“I see.” By her tone, it seemed she did not believe him.

Emma looked to each face before meeting the pastor’s gaze. “I am trying to talk him out of it. He can find a more suitable wife, I’m sure.” She sniffed and pulled at her left sleeve since it was so much shorter than the right.

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Milligan exclaimed. “This has nothing to do with you. Come, dear. Let’s see what we can do about your hair. We’ll get you spiffied up for your wedding.” The woman took her by the hand and guided her out of the room.

They entered a small, feminine bedroom. “Now,” Mrs. Milligan said facing her. “Do you care for Patrick?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do.” Emma didn’t mind sharing with the woman, who she was sure would not tell anyone whatever she said. It was a gut feeling and she trusted it.

Mrs. Milligan’s warm gaze took her in. “Am I right to assume there has been intimacy between you and Patrick?”

Emma was pretty sure what had happened between them was intimacy. She nodded, her face heating.

“Well then, you should look beautiful for your wedding day and don’t ever think yourself not worthy of someone. We are each valuable children of the Almighty.”

The woman went to a wardrobe and shuffled through the dresses hanging within. “My daughter, Jane, married a year ago and left several dresses here. She asked me to donate them, but I haven’t had the time. It was meant to be that someone would come who needed them.” She pulled out a stack of dresses and put them on the bed. “These four are the least worn. Pick one for today and you take the rest home with you.”

Emma’s eyes rounded at the pretty fabrics of the clothing. “I couldn’t possibly. One is enough. They are beautiful.” She ran her hands over the dress on top, a pretty, green floral.

“Nonsense. If you don’t take them, I’ll have more work to do to give them away. You are helping me by taking them.” She placed more items next to the dresses. “A couple nightgowns and shifts.” She eyed Emma’s feet. “I believe she left a pair of shoes as well. Hurry, now, let’s do something about your hair.”

“I just washed it,” Emma offered lamely as she’d washed her chemise and bathed in preparation for her trip. The dress Amelia had given her was packed in the back of the wagon. She’d saved it for when she began looking for work.

Patrick had to look twice at the woman who entered the room behind Mrs. Milligan. In a pretty, green, floral dress with her hair pulled back to cascade down her back, Emma looked so different.

Her wide eyes looked to him with expectancy and he smiled to reassure her. With timid steps, she came to stand next to him. Together, they stood before the preacher in front of the hearth. Patrick leaned into her ear. “You look beautiful.”

The pastor cleared his throat. “There you are, Frank. Now we can commence as we have two witnesses.” A thin man, who Patrick remembered from Sunday services when he and his parents had attended, entered.

They exchanged vows in a simple ceremony without fanfare, family or planned festivities. And yet, to Patrick, it seemed perfect. Emma repeated her vows in a soft voice, the husky edge to it alluring. When it was his turn to speak, Patrick had to clear his throat at knowing his life was about to change forever and that, from that day forward, he was tied to the pretty woman whose shiny eyes met his.

“I do.”