Page 18 of Val (Wild Rose Ridge #1)

Chapter Seventeen

They ate lunch, enjoyed their pie, and Val hurried back to the hotel, giving the excuse that she had mending to do for the brides.

Thankfully, Micah believed her and left her to it.

Once she reached the hotel, she went inside, ignored the curious looks of a few lingering brides in the dining room, and hurried up to her room.

Inside, she closed the door behind her, leaned against it, and breathed heavily. “Saints preserve us, what a day!” She shook her head to clear it, then began to pace. “What am I going to do? I never thought I'd have feelings for anyone. This is terrible!”

Yes, but you like it, Augusta's voice chimed through her head.

“Oh, what would you know?” Val shot back. “The three of you are… are… good grief!” What were they? Spinsters? Widows?

The three were very quiet on that score, never answering no matter how direct she was.

Their past was their past, they said, and not her concern.

Val had dropped it, and after nearly five years, she still didn’t know much about her employers’ history.

That was fine. The pay wasn’t bad, and she’d had more fun than she ever expected.

Still, she wondered: had all three had their hearts broken, leaving them to seek joy in finding love for others, a love that evaded them? Was she destined for the same? Matchmaking her whole life but never knowing love?

Micah popped into her head, his gaze gentle and steady.

Could a man like him love someone like her?

Perhaps the only reason he paid attention was because he, like the rest of the men in town, hadn’t seen an unattached woman in a very long time.

The thought made sense, and she relaxed a little.

“He is a man, after all, Val. Men will be men.”

At least he wasn’t clamoring after her or the brides when they stepped off the ship. He’d been calm and steady since she arrived.

She nodded to herself. Just because he was a man didn’t mean she couldn’t trust him.

He hadn’t steered her wrong yet. She was the one with her head in the clouds and her feet not touching the ground.

And she’d better get them planted quick or she might lose her heart.

What if he was simply admiring something pretty and nothing more?

Then her feelings would never be returned.

He hadn’t said anything directly to her.

After all, they had no understanding between them; he was simply admiring the view, so to speak.

She was petite, young… well, sort of; being in her mid-twenties was still considered on the shelf.

She hoped she hadn’t quite lost her bloom.

There were plenty of widows who remarried and even some spinsters, but what she didn’t want was a broken heart.

Val wanted to return to Chicago, pick up where she left off, and keep matchmaking.

She’d find him a bride. Yes, that’s what she’d do.

Now, what kind of wife would Micah Sutton need? Val went to the small desk, pulled out paper and pencil, and began a list. “A preacher’s wife,” she said, tapping the pencil on her chin. “She’d have to be steadfast, forthright, and able to handle people.” She scribbled it down.

The woman would have to sacrifice her time, too.

Val thought of the way Micah cared for people, even those who didn’t attend church.

“She’ll need balance,” Val muttered. “If she can’t take care of herself, she can’t care for others.

She can’t be self-absorbed.” Val shuddered at the thought of someone like Mrs. Hanford as Micah’s wife.

No, he needed someone practical, smart, witty, and kind. A helpmate. She wrote that down.

You know you’re listing your own qualities, don’t you? Josie said, clear as a bell.

Val closed her eyes. “There are plenty of women like me. Now hush and let me finish.”

Leave it to Josie to interrupt. Val shook her head and read her list. “Someone he’s attracted to,” she added, pacing again, hands clasped.

“Someone who can cook and sew, do his mending. She’ll have to read and write.

” Val thought about the men at the dock when the Merry Jo first arrived.

“Maybe handy with a firearm. And doctoring wouldn’t hurt.

” She sat, jotted it down, and reviewed her list.

She thought of the brides she’d brought to Wild Rose Ridge. Did any of them have all these qualities? She shook her head. They could cook, Clara especially, and were practical, witty, and moral. But when she really thought about it, she was the only one who fit.

Val tugged her hair and growled.

Now, now, none of that, Margaret’s voice chimed. You know you’re only fighting the inevitable. I think it’s terribly romantic.

“Oh, you would,” Val spat. Josie giggled. Val shook her head again. “The three of you will drive me mad. And then what will Micah say? The last thing he needs is a wife addled in the brain.”

Ah ha! Augusta crowed. You finally said it! Wife! And you were talking about yourself!

“I was not!” Val said aloud, then quickly covered her mouth.

She glanced at the door. Thankfully, she didn’t hear anyone in the hall.

She sighed. “For crying out loud, will you three shut up? Just wait until I get back. I’ll give you each a piece of my mind.

” She wagged a finger at nothing, then dropped her hand.

“I think I’ve already turned into a mad yoke.

” She laughed. “What is happening to me?”

Isn’t it obvious? Augusta asked. You’re falling in love.

Val stilled. “No. No, it can’t be. Maybe I’m just a little infatuated.”

Oh yes! You are definitely falling in love, Margaret added. I think it’s wonderful.

“You would,” Val muttered. She took a deep breath. “It can’t be true. I’m not…”

But you are, Josie drawled.

Val squeezed her eyes shut. “Go away.” When she opened them, she looked at the list. “I’ll be leaving when the Merry Jo comes back. Then I’ll be in Chicago. I’ll find Micah Sutton a wife and bring her here by summer.”

Val signed her name at the bottom as if making a contract with herself. “It’s for the best. The poor man’s just lonely, that’s all.” She let out a long breath and blinked against the sting of tears.

Don’t do this, Val, Augusta pleaded in her mind. Please don’t.

“But I have to. Don’t you see? It’s the only way.”

Before the sisters’ voices could return, she fell onto the bed, buried her face in her pillow, and let the tears fall.

Micah entered the meeting hall, stepped into the main room, and watched the women work for a moment. He saw Val on the far side speaking with one of her brides. He sighed, stuck his hands in his pockets, and looked around.

“Why, Preacher Sutton, how nice of you to join us,” Mrs. Beck said as she approached. “Have you come to help?”

“I’m here to check on things, see what’s needed. Can I get you any supplies?”

Mrs. Beck surveyed the room and the different women working. “Actually, I think we have everything under control. Isn’t that nice?”

“It is, Mrs. Beck. I’m glad to hear it.” His eyes drifted to Val again. She’d avoided him the rest of yesterday, and he wondered if something was wrong. Did she even realize he was in the room, or was she still avoiding him?

“She’s different,” Mrs. Beck said.

He looked at her. “Excuse me?”

“The matchmaker, Miss O’Malley. I like her. Do you?”

He smiled. “I rather like her too.” Uh-oh, he shouldn’t have said that.

Mrs. Beck grinned. “Well, that’s wonderful news. Um, have you told her?” She winked.

“Mrs. Beck… are you insinuating that I’m sweet on the matchmaker?”

She giggled. “Oh, come now, Preacher Sutton. Anyone can see you’re smitten.”

His eyebrows shot up. “They can?”

“Why, yes. We had a lengthy discussion on it the other day.”

“What about exactly?” he asked suspiciously.

“Well, about Miss O’Malley, of course! I say you’ll propose by Christmas. But that’s just me. I admit to being a hopeless romantic. Beatrice, on the other hand, thinks it’ll be before the Merry Jo comes, but she didn’t give an exact date. She doesn’t want to guess.”

“That sounds like Mrs. Schulte. She’s trying to be practical.”

He took a deep breath. Now what was he going to do? Who knew what gossip was being spread about him and Miss O’Malley? “Tell me, Mrs. Beck,” he said. “What exactly are you and your friends discussing when it comes to Miss O’Malley and myself?”

She waved a hand at him and giggled again. “Oh, come now, Preacher Sutton. You know very well the two of you would make a lovely couple. I mean, just look at her. She’s so petite and adorable, and you’re so tall, dark, and handsome.” She blushed.

“Oh, come now, Mrs. Beck,” he said, feigning embarrassment. “Miss O’Malley has given no indication she holds any sort of interest in me.”

“Why, that’s silly.” She waved a dismissive hand. “She’s looked over here several times already. I’ve been watching the two of you, you know.”

“You have?”

“Why, yes, ever since you entered the room.”

“Oh boy,” he said under his breath. “Please don’t try to play matchmaker with Miss O’Malley and myself.”

“But Preacher Sutton,” Mrs. Beck said, her voice laced with disappointment. “You’re perfect for each other. Think of the good the two of you can do together. She has grit. I can tell. She’d survive here just fine.”

“I have no doubt,” he said. “But unfortunately, I don’t think she’s interested in staying. I’ve done a little snooping, let us say.”

Mrs. Beck smiled. “You could be a Busy Bee, Preacher Sutton,” she tittered. “You have all the right qualifications.”

He laughed. This was one of the reasons he put up with Beatrice and her friends. On the one hand, they were overbearing half the time and drove him crazy; on the other, they were rather adorable.

“Now why don’t you go over there and talk to her, Preacher Sutton? I know she’s probably dying to spend a little time with you.”

His heart sank. “I’m afraid she isn’t, Mrs. Beck. She’s been avoiding me. And though I’ve tried my best to understand her, she’s bent on returning to Chicago. She has no interest in living in a place like Wild Rose Ridge.”

“Come now, Preacher Sutton!” Mrs. Beck said in all seriousness. “You know it’s not the place that makes a home but the people. What you need to concentrate on is becoming her new home.” She gave him a parting smile, turned, and left.

Micah stared after her. Who knew Mrs. Adelaide Beck could give such good advice? It was astounding really. He smiled, shook his head in amazement, then caught sight of Val again. She was looking right at him. Maybe he ought to take Mrs. Beck’s advice and speak to her.

Before he could stop himself, he was walking that way. He had no idea what he was going to say and hoped he didn’t become tongue-tied. Something that rarely happened to him. But when it came to Val O’Malley, well, it was anyone’s guess what could happen.

He reached her as she bent to the floor to pick up some loose pieces of paper. “Good morning, Val. How are you doing?”

She froze. “I’m fine, Preacher Sutton. Thank you very much.”

His heart sank a little further. This wasn’t going to be easy. “The decorations are coming along well,” he commented as he studied the paper flowers and snowflakes on a table.

Val got to her feet. “Yes, they are. Thank you. The ladies have been working hard.” She gave him a smile, then looked away. “I should get back to work.”

“Val,” he said, taking a step closer, “have I done or said something to you that…”

She spun to him. “No, you haven’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Preacher Sutton, I should get back to helping the others.” She turned around again, and he saw her shoulders stiffen.

What was wrong? Micah took a step back without thinking, twisting his hat in his hands. “You know where to find me if you need me.”

She didn’t look at him. “Yes, I do. Thank you.”

He didn’t move. Instead, he watched her, his heart in his throat, and realized he couldn’t let her go that easily. “I came up with a few more names for you.”

She slowly turned around. “Did you?”

“Yes, fine men. A few more came and spoke to me, so I added them. I hope you don’t mind, but I imagine you would. My offer still stands.”

She closed her eyes and drew in a shuddering breath. “That you would come to Chicago and escort the brides back.”

“Yes, I’m perfectly willing to do that.” He stepped forward again. “Val, Wild Rose Ridge is going to grow into something special. I just know it. Don’t you want women seeking a fresh start to have a part in it?”

Val drew in another breath and let it out slowly. She was afraid of something, but he couldn’t figure out what.

“This town will grow,” he assured. “You’ll see.”

“Oh, I have no doubt that the town will grow, Preacher Sutton…”

“Micah,” he corrected gently. “I thought we were on a first-name basis, remember?”

“Ah, but perhaps it’s a little too intimate.”

His eyebrows shot up. His smile grew. “I see.”

He smiled again. He’d gotten well under her skin. His smile grew as he leaned one hand on the table. “You look very pretty today, Miss O’Malley. May I say that you’re pretty?”

She sucked in a breath. “Oh goodness gracious, no, you shouldn’t say things like that.”

She quickly looked around. She was so adorable, and she was flustered. His smile grew. “Well, you are, and I’d like to take you to dinner.”

“What? Dinner? Haven’t we shared enough meals?” she said, her voice squeaking.

“Miss O’Malley, I’d like to share more than a few meals with you. In fact, I could share meals with you every day.”