Flint Hills Bride

Emily couldn’t help but smile at the girl’s sense of tragedy. “I don’t know,” she lamented.

“How about going riding with me?” Jake asked.

“Can we, Aunt Emily? Can we, can we?”

Emily bobbed her head, following the bouncing girl’s movements.

“She says yes,” Willa told Jake, tugging on Emily’s hand. “Let’s go change.”

“I didn’t say yes,” Emily corrected, allowing herself to be dragged from the room.

“You nodded.”

A few minutes later, Emily stepped from her room, dressed in a divided skirt, and found Willa in homemade pants waiting for her. They went quickly down the stairs and headed for the back hall to get their coats.

Jake met them there. “You won’t need more than jackets,” he said. “It’s warmed up some since this morning.”

Willa found what she wanted to wear, and Emily helped her into it and her gloves. “All I have is my cloak,” she said. “Perhaps I could borrow something.” She studied the row of coats, trying to pick something the right weight.

“This one’s mine,” Jake said, grabbing a flannel-lined jacket. “I left it here last fall.”

For some unknown reason, Emily wanted to refuse it. But she could think of no reason, and Willa was obviously in a hurry. She drew on the jacket as she followed the others outside.

Jake was right, it was surprisingly warm for December. Christian and Perry had saddled the horses, and her brother helped her mount as Jake lifted Willa into the saddle. The little girl tossed her a smug grin as Jake mounted.

“Watch her close,” Christian said to Jake before they started off. He was referring, of course, to his little daughter.

Jake led them down the path they had followed that morning. He stayed so close to Willa that Emily soon fell back to watch them. Jake took Christian’s admonition very seriously. When Willa leaned down to scratch her ankle, his hand shot out to steady her.

Emily had to smile. Her talkative little niece was unusually shy. Yet she wanted to compose a pretend love letter to him that evening. At least Emily thought it was pretend. Of course, if the little girl actually delivered the letter, Jake would be nice about it. She couldn’t imagine him ever doing anything that would hurt anybody.

She felt the most peculiar stab of jealousy, which she quickly shrugged off. She took a deep breath of the crisp cool air. It had been months since she had ridden. It had always been a favorite activity on the ranch in the summer. She leaned forward to pat the gelding’s neck.

Ahead, Jake pointed something out to Willa, who nodded when she saw it. It was odd, Emily thought. When she wanted to be alone, Jake or Willa interrupted. When she wanted a diversion, like now, she found herself alone. Or nearly so. Her companions seemed to have forgotten she was along.

She was now quite certain she was increasing. Her flow was two weeks late, and she had always been regular. The bouts of stomach upset and moments of fatigue were more frequent.

She needed Anson. She needed to be married to Anson. Disloyal as it was, she wanted him less and less. If it wasn’t for the baby, she wouldn’t be particularly disappointed if she never heard from him again.

If it wasn’t for the baby. That seemed to preface all her confused thoughts. If it wasn’t for the baby, she could pretend this was a happy visit instead of a banishment. She could comfort her little nephew without tears coming to her eyes. She could write her parents that she knew she had been wrong and ask their forgiveness.

She could flirt with Jake.

She shook her head to clear it. Where had that thought come from? Willa, probably. She had been watching her ride beside her strong and handsome Jake, noting how the girl’s shy smiles were an innocent form of flirting.

Maybe the baby affected her mind as well as her stomach. She had no interest in Jake except as a friend. She decided she couldn’t trust herself to be alone with her thoughts. That bit of illogical whimsy made her want to laugh aloud. That would convince her companions that she had gone crazy. She imagined them looking at her pityingly and wanted to laugh even more.

She kicked her mount to ride closer behind the other two, hoping to get in on their conversation. Before she really did drive herself crazy.

After the ride, Willa ran to tell her mother that she was going to spend the night with Emily. She was restless all through supper, wanting to get started with what she was calling her party. She insisted that her mother help her wash and get ready for bed as soon as the meal was over.

Emily went to her room to prepare for bed herself and get the pen and paper ready. She was starting to look forward to hearing Willa’s idea of a love letter. An invitation to help her look for frogs, maybe. Or a promise to make him a special heart-shaped cookie.

It wasn’t long before she heard a knock on the door and the little girl bounded in, her hair flying around her shoulders.

“Don’t you want your daddy to braid your hair before bed?” Emily asked, smiling at the eager face.

“I want you to do it,” she said, climbing up on the bed to sit cross-legged in the center.

Emily grabbed a brush and a ribbon and crawled up behind her. “Did you know your daddy used to braid my hair every night?”

Willa shook her head. “Why didn’t your own daddy?”

Emily laughed. She pulled the brush through the fine blond hair. “Most daddies don’t braid little girl’s hair. Usually it’s mama’s job. But when I was little and came to stay on the ranch, my mama wasn’t here, so your daddy braided my hair.”

“But at sleep-over parties, we do each other’s. And yours is already done.”

“Sorry, I should have waited,” she said, making short work of the girl’s shoulder-length hair and tying it with the ribbon.

“That’s all right. I don’t know how anyway. When do we write our letters?” Willa asked.

“Let’s do it right away,” Emily said eagerly. “You want to write yours first, or shall I?”

“Me, me!” she cried bouncing on the bed. “You write just what I say.”

“All right.” Emily slid off the bed and took a seat at the desk. Willa crawled around on the bed, a childish version of pacing. “Shall I start with ‘Dear Jake’?”

“No,” Willa responded, stopping to stand on her knees and press her hands over her heart. “‘My darling Jake.’ No wait, ‘My own darling Jake.’ Write that.”

Emily dipped the pen in ink and bent over the page. “Does your mother read her stories to you?”

“No,” responded Willa, missing Emily’s grin. “Tell him I think he’s the most handsome man in the world.”

Emily smiled. “‘Most handsome man in the world.’ What else?”

“‘The bravest and the strongest.’” Willa said the words slowly, allowing Emily time to write. “And I want him to kiss me.” The instant she said it, she threw both hands over her mouth, gulping back a giggle.

“Do you really?” Emily teased.

She shook her head vigorously. “Don’t write that What if he really did?” She grimaced.

“Are we going to send this letter?”

Willa thought for a moment. “No. That way I can tell him everything.” She took a deep breath. “‘Your eyes are like the sky.’”

“His eyes are green,” Emily corrected.

“They are? All right. ‘Your eyes are like the…grass. Your smile is like sunshine. Your kiss is like honey.’”