Rocky Mountain Dawn (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 1) (2 page)

A rustle of her skirts betrayed her, and the strange man's head whipped around. Esther met his gaze boldly, and made her way down the steps, her head held high. Once she descended, she sent her smile all around, at ease even in the center of three men's attention.

"Esther." Her father cleared his throat. "Dr. Whitney is here and he brought along a young man as his guest. Mr. Johnathan Shepherd—excuse me, Doctor Johnathan Shepherd."

So he was a doctor, too. That still didn't tell her why he was here.

She dropped a curtsy from her spot on the last stair. "Welcome." If she stood straight, and stayed on the last step, she could almost look the tall stranger in the eye.

"Miss Richardson." The newcomer's mouth quirked a little, as if he understood what she was doing. For a second she wished she'd thought to put on her green frock, the better to bring out the color of her eyes. At least she was wearing her newest lace gloves.

"What brings two doctors to our door? Is someone ill?" She feigned worry, widening what Mr. Spencer called her "fine green eyes."

"No, child," her father sputtered. "They're here for you."

"Me? But, I assure you, I am feeling quite well."

At this, the stranger, along with Dr. Whitney, exchanged amused glances. Still, they said nothing, as if waiting to see what else she would do.

Behind her she could hear her mother in the kitchen ordering Maddie to set another place for dinner. Then a plate crashed to the floor.

Her father seemed to expect her to say something more, so she smiled broadly at Dr. Whitney. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"I've already invited them," her father said. "It seems there is much to be discussed about your future." He peered at her through his spectacles, a chastising look she recognized well. When she was younger, it would herald a spanking. Now that she was almost twenty-three, her father hadn't had cause to put her across his knee in a long time.

"My future?" She risked another glance at the tall stranger. He'd fixed dark eyes on her, and with his height, heavy brows and bony face, he should seem threatening. Instead, he looked like he was about to laugh, and she found that intriguing.

"They're from the American Mission Board," her father said. "They received your letter. The one you sent requesting a missionary post in the West."

"Oh yes, I remember." She colored a little, realizing her father would've found out one way or another. She shifted a little from foot to foot, wondering if she'd earned a punishment, and hoping her father would wait until the guests were gone before meting it out.

Now the strange Dr. Shepherd was smiling outright. The happy look transformed his face from a sober, gauntness, to a breathtaking beauty.
He really should find a wife
, she thought,
someone who will love his homely looks and fatten him up.

Dr. Whitney coughed, and Esther fixed her attention on him. Now both the older doctor and her father seemed to be suppressing a laugh, and it made her cross.

"What's going on?" she asked.

To her surprise, Johnathan Shepherd stepped forward to offer the answer. "Miss Richardson, I also wrote to the Mission board, requesting a pastoral position West of Kansas Territory. They agreed, on the condition I take a wife."

She stared up at him, speechless for the first time in her life.

"Miss Richardson." He smiled down at her. "I'm here to see if you will consider me for a husband."

*****

"I'm sorry, Father," Esther said later that night. "I should've told you about my letter."

"It's all right, my dear." Her father laid down his bible. "I had hoped you would leave seminary and settle down and marry some Maine farmer. It was selfish of me to want to keep my eldest daughter close."

She smiled at him.

"I'll leave any punishment to your future husband," he said. "Do you like the young Dr. Shepherd?"

Cocking her head to the side, Esther considered it. Once they'd sat down to dinner, she'd barely paid any attention to her new suitor, even though she'd been seated by him on a bench. Instead, she'd plied Dr. Whitney with questions about his travels, as usual. The old man seemed flattered, but kept trying to drive the conversation back to his colleague. It seemed Dr. Whitney had a high opinion of Johnathan Shepherd, who had gone to medical school in Boston, then felt called to seminary. Such a young man to have completed both.

Esther felt that to become a minister and a doctor before thirty was rather showing off. She herself had gone to seminary, and usually she'd take the opportunity to debate with a fellow graduate. Tonight, however, she ignored Mr. Shepherd entirely, having learned a long time ago how to drive a suitor crazy. Young men, she'd found, were much more interested in the chase than a woman who simpered all over them.

So all night, she pretended to ignore him, even going so far to sound cold and disinterested when she said goodbye. Again, she noticed the corners of his mouth turning up, as if he was more amused by her behavior than infatuated.

"Esther," her father called, breaking into her musings. "I asked you if you liked him."

"I suppose it doesn't matter," she said. "He's a man of God, and he and I are called to the same mission. We both can do a lot of good."

Her father harrumped. "I would hope to see you settled with a rich young doctor, a man who could keep you in all your pretty dresses and fripperies, and bind you up if you break your bones falling out of trees. But I suppose Dr. Shepherd is someone you could love."

She bid her father goodnight. Could she love Johnathan Shepherd? She didn't need to love a man to marry him, just get along with him. In fact, she thought it would be better to have a husband she didn't love—that way she wouldn't be distracted from God's work.

Yes, Mr. Johnathan Shepherd would do just fine for a spouse.

*****

She told her mother this the next morning. "I think he's a good choice. We'll both be focused on God's work. He's so tall and awkward, I'm sure I won't fall in love with him."

"Esther!" Her mother gasped. "How can you say such things about poor Mr. Shepherd?"

"Well, it's the truth."

"I think he's quite handsome," Mattie put in, and then blushed.

Rolling her eyes, Esther continued kneading the bread, waiting for her mother to speak again. There was something brewing in the squat matron's head.

"You could still marry Mr. Spencer," Mrs. Richardson finally burst out.

Esther laughed. True, the young Mainer had a nice surry, and would inherit his father's shop. But he didn't make her heart beat as fast as it had when she thought of Mr. Shepherd—Johnathan— taking her across the country, on an real adventure. The thought of staying in Maine and being a shopkeeper's wife paled in comparison.

When she explained this, her mother didn't take the news well.

"Esther," her mother wailed. "You, go west? You'd be taken by wolves, by Indians, by bandits!"

"And in that order," Mr. Richardson said from his place at the breakfast table, and Esther was certain her father was smiling behind the newspaper.

With ten younger children swarming around the house, and her mother talking about the marriageable men around town in a last effort to get Esther to change her mind, the slim blonde escaped to her favorite place.

In the apple orchard, she climbed an old gnarled tree and sat with her feet hanging over the branch, and her head in the clouds of white apple blossoms.

Could she really go through with it? Marry Mr. Shepherd? Here was her chance at adventure. Of course, he was the perfect choice, with his lanky body and angular face, there was no chance of her falling in love with him. She could concentrate on the missions. The only thing remained: would he take her?

She went through the reasons why she'd make a good wife, being careful to list her faults. She was vain, and sometimes outspoken. Still, many men in town wished to marry her, ever since she'd gone to seminary, grown three inches and lost her childish snub nose.

The sound of horse interrupted her thoughts and she peered through the branches. When she saw the tall man riding past the orchard, she almost fell out of the tree.

A blizzard of white petals swirled to the ground just as Johnathan Shepherd rode by. His horse jumped a little, and the rider steered closer to the tree, peering through the leaves.

"Miss Richardson?"

"Hello," she called down, as if it was normal to greet riders from a branch ten feet off the ground. "Lovely weather we're having. Would you like an apple?"

"No thank you." Mr. Shepherd dismounted, peering up at her, thick black brows pressed together with concern. "In fact, I should feel better if you came down from there."

Esther hesitated and leaned back so snowy branches obscured her visitor's face. She took inventory, she was in an old, faded dress, with her braided hair mussed from the climb. She'd forgotten a bonnet. It wasn't the best impression for her to make on a suitor.

"Miss Richardson?"

"I'm coming."

He'd positioned himself to help her. With his height, he could easily reach her branch, but she simply jumped to the ground, startling her suitor and his horse.

She staggered a little, and he was at her side, steadying her. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." She grimaced, her feet aching with the hard landing.

The sides of Johnathan's mouth quirked up, not quite a smile. "Quite an ingenious way to pick apples. But rather difficult on the end."

"Yes," she said, dusting off her skirts with an air of self-importance. "Next time I'll bring a ladder."

"May I escort you back to the house?"

"Of course." Inwardly she sighed. She'd learned to avoid private walks with potential suitors. Next would come the flirting, the fervent promises, and pleading for her hand in marriage, or, at the very least, prolonged begging for the chance at a kiss.

Instead, Dr. Shepherd stopped before the edge of the orchard, the house just in view but far enough away from some privacy. "Miss Richardson, if I may be blunt."

Esther smoothed her skirts and waited for the courting to begin.

"I hesitate to say this," he began, and she almost rolled her eyes. A proposal, or request for a kiss, so soon? But then he said, "Last night, at dinner...are you always so given to flirtation?"

Her mouth fell open. "Excuse me?"

"I'm sure you have a large number of suitors. But even I was surprised by your coquettish behavior. I didn't think to expect it from a woman of your intelligence."

She stepped backwards like she'd taken a blow. "I can't believe you would accuse me of such a thing," she sputtered. "I did not act in such a manner. In fact, I made certain to ignore you."

Again, his mouth drew up briefly into a grin, telling her that she'd given herself away.

"And isn't that a sign of flirtation?" he said, mock sternly. "Young women pay men no attention, knowing it will spur a suitor on."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, upset that he'd found out one of her sure fire tricks. She faced him, wishing she were a foot taller, or at least had a stump to stand on.

The man's brown eyes were mild. "Don't be angry, Miss Richardson. I did not mean to offend, only point out a reason why I am having second thoughts."

Esther felt a horrible rush of warmth come over her, and her cheeks colored with embarrassment.

The tall doctor continued. "At first, I thought it providential that we both wrote letters to the Board at the same time, and are so obviously well matched in our thinking...but I still hesitate to offer for you."

Esther felt her blush move over her whole body, spurred by rage. Who did he think he was? He should be begging for the chance to marry her.

"Why?" she cried. "Because I'm a woman and can't possibly have ambition? Because I don't look strong enough to brave the wilds? Do you think I'll throw up my hands and faint at the first sign of hardship?"

"No," he interrupted as soon as he could get a word in. "Because you are very beautiful."

Esther opened her mouth, and couldn't think of anything to say. She'd been struck speechless for the second time in her life, and again the cause was Mr. Shepherd.

"I'm sure you know how lovely you are. Anyone who looks on you must tell you, and most men would make it their first reason to ask for your hand."

"But not you. You seem quite intent on breaking the mold," Esther said coldly. She felt unsettled around this tall, intense stranger, who would court a woman based on a letter, then decide she wasn't good enough because she was too pretty.

"Of course I would love a wife as beautiful as you," he said, cocking his head and looking at her with kindness. Pity almost. She felt anger surge again.

"But I don't need one," Dr. Shepherd continued. "And the life I've chosen, I cannot have a wife who longs for grander things. I am a simple man. I want to serve, and be of use to God and man. I need a helpmate who will be by my side, thick and thin, during good times and bad. The board told me of you and showed me your letter. You talked about wanting to live a life of meaning, of wanting to answer the call to do good work."

Her heart was pounding faster than it ever had before, even faster than the time Mark Spencer had snuck her out of church to take a ride in his carriage at full speed.

"I understand, Mr. Shepherd. I want the same." She gulped hard, hoping he'd believe her. Suddenly her green dress, and all her plotting to wear gloves and the right bonnet seemed very silly. Since when did she care for such frivolous items? She'd never cared what she wore at seminary; indeed, she'd barely looked in a mirror until she'd come home and all her suitors had swarmed her. Their compliments must have made her vain.

Her throat was very dry as she thought of how best to explain this to Mr. Shepherd, when they were interrupted by Mattie's shouting.

"Esther," her young sister called. Most of the young Richardsons had arranged themselves in the yard, where they could watch their older sister's courting.

Esther waved back at them and then looked up at Dr. Shepherd. "We should go in. Mother needs my help preparing dinner, and Father will want to speak to you."