The Wedding Promise

—Elaine Barbieri

“Harlequin Historical novels are charming or disarming with dashes and clashes. These past times are fast times, the gems of romances!”

—Karen Harper

The Wedding Promise

Carolyn Davidson

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

This book is dedicated to the memory

of Arnold “Jake” McDonnell,

brother-in-law and friend, a wounded warrior

who spent over 40 years in his wheelchair.

He was a hero to the end.

and

To Mr. Ed

Sweetheart, husband, lover and friend—

Father and grandfather extraordinaire—

A man who knows the meaning of romance

“I didn’t frighten you?” His grin widened.

She met his gaze, her blue eyes shiny with the tears she had not shed. “I liked the kiss. I just didn’t think it was proper, with me working for you, and all. I can’t stay here if you intend to…”

“I won’t take you to my bed, Rachel.”

Her quick look was skeptical. “I don’t know much about men, Cord McPherson, but my mother told me that when a man takes a kiss, he usually plans on…Well, anyway, she said I should be sure that a man has honorable intentions when I let him kiss me.”

“Ah…there’s the hitch, honey. You didn’t let me. I just went ahead and stole the kiss without permission.” His gaze was filled with the wonder of her, the glowing color she wore like the armor of a virgin bride…

Prologue (#ulink_0abbdc63-472b-585d-95e3-f818ae35b847)

“There’s no way on God’s green earth you young’uns can travel by yourselves.” As if he pronounced the fate of the three people facing him, the weathered wagon master issued his ultimatum. “If your pa had listened when he should have, you’d have two good oxen pullin’ your wagon instead of those horses. You’d have stood a chance, maybe.”

The big man took off his hat and shaped it with a fist, his gaze avoiding the eyes of the young woman in front of him. “I asked around, Rachel. There’s plenty of churchgoin’ people in Green Rapids that’ll be glad to give homes to all of you.”

Rachel Sinclair’s arms stretched like the wings of a mother hen to encompass the narrow shoulders of her small brothers. “I can tend to my family,” she muttered stubbornly. “I don’t need the charity of a bunch of church folk.”

“You’re nothin’ but a child yourself, girl.” With a rush of exasperation, Mr. Clemons denied her claim. His brow furrowed as he scanned the waiting wagons behind her. “You’re a good girl, Rachel. You’ve held things together for your brothers real well, but the truth is, these men are in a hurry. They’re haulin’ freight, and besides that, I can’t expect the rest of the people in the group to look out for you when things go sour. We’re goin’ to leave you here with the sheriff and that’s that!”

Rachel’s slender fingers tightened their grip, as if she must imbue her brothers with a trace of her determination. “Go on then,” she told the man in front of her. “We’ll be just fine.”

A look of sheer relief brought an easing of Tom Clemons’s frown. “Sheriff’s on his way. Y’all just stay put here and he’ll make some arrangements for you. I already talked to him.” His gait was hurried as he made his way past the three young people, none of whom turned to watch his departure.

“Is he really leavin’ us here, Rae?” Barely a whisper, the voice reached her ear and Rachel bent momentarily to brush a quick kiss across her brother’s dark hair.

“We don’t need him, Jay,” she murmured.

“What are we gonna do, Rae?” came the query from her other side.

He reached her shoulder, this ten-year-old who looked so much like his daddy that it made her heart hurt to look at him. Her smile was sweet as she met his worried gaze.

“We’re going to climb back into our wagon and head out before the sheriff gets his hands on us, Henry.” As a spur-of-the-moment suggestion, it had as much merit as any other notions she’d come up with in the past day or so. Rachel Sinclair was plumb out of ideas. But standing in the middle of the dusty street, halfway between the hotel and a general store, she had reached a conclusion.

“There’s enough food in the wagon to keep us for a while. We’ve got a barrel of water and two good horses to pull the wagon. It’ll be a cold day in you-know-where when we can’t figure out some way to keep body and soul together without a bunch of busybodies pokin’ into our business. Just hike yourselves into the wagon, boys.”

Her dark hair swung in a long braid down her back and slim legs were briefly exposed as Rachel Sinclair scrambled atop the high seat. Her brothers joined her in seconds, even as a rangy lawman sauntered from his office to head in their direction.

His hand lifted in a silent gesture and his mouth opened, only to snap shut as the trio huddling on the wide seat ignored his beckoning fingers. Shaking his head in puzzled resignation, he watched them go, until they were just a speck on the horizon.

Chapter One (#ulink_457ce257-0cf8-5615-bd52-44f36972e6e3)

The line of clothing snapped in the brisk west wind. Four small shirts billowed, the sleeves filling like the sails of a boat. Next to them hung overalls, one pair a little larger than the other. Stockings draped over the line in a dark parade, and his gaze followed their lead, beyond the pale assortment of undergarments to where a skirt caught the breeze.

“Damned if there isn’t a passel of nesters squattin’ on my doorstep!” Talking to himself had long been a habit, and Cord McPherson was more than comfortable with the sound of his own voice.

His hands rested on the pommel of his saddle and he slouched just a bit as he leaned forward to better view the small valley that rimmed the north side of his property.

He’d ridden this far only once this spring, more than a month ago, and nothing unusual had caught his eye. Only the leafing out of the trees along the stream and the greening of the meadows had pleasured his vision. This was another thing entirely.

His gaze narrowed on a small figure just beyond the ramshackle building at the edge of a patch of trees. Dark haired and slim as a reed, a young boy scampered into full view, his voice a piping song.

“Rae! Listen to me! I can whistle just like that bird over there,” he called, and then proceeded to do a creditable imitation of a robin.

Cord’s mouth twitched, amusement and annoyance vying for a place there. “What the hell is that kid doin’, prancin’ around in my back forty?” he grumbled beneath his breath.

And then his eyes caught sight of another figure, this one not nearly so reedlike…slender, but well rounded. A female, no doubt of that, he decided quickly, what with the curves that threatened to spill over the front of her petticoat.

“Jay, I sent you to the stream to fill a bucket with water. I need to finish the washing.”

She’d turned, coming to a halt with her back to him, and for a moment Cord silently urged her to turn around. He’d thought her to be but a child at first glance, but the sight of rounded hips beneath the clinging petticoat and the memory of curves he’d caught only a glimpse of sent that thought scampering.

“I’m gonna!” the child answered cheerfully. “I just was watchin’ the birds for a minute, Rae.” The dark head turned, the small face scrunched against the morning sun as he faced the woman, and even from a distance, Cord caught a glimpse of terror in the boy’s hurried movements.

“Rae! There’s a man watchin’. Over on that rise, there’s a big man lookin’ at us!” His bare feet were a blur as the boy ran to the woman and she clutched him against herself in a protective gesture, her head bending low over his.

And then she turned. With one hand she swept the youngster behind her, facing the unknown with a measure of bravery that brought an admiring chuckle from Cord’s throat. Even as he eyed her stance, his heels tapped the sides of his big gelding and he sat deeply in the saddle as the horse picked his way down the shallow slope of the hill.