The Bride’s Matchmaking Triplets. Regina Scott

Tyson rocked him, making cooing noises that seemed to calm him. By the way his little mouth pursed, he was trying to mimic her.

      “It’s getting close to their next feeding,” Elizabeth explained, going to set Theo in one of the high chairs. It was crammed next to the wheeled handcart the babies’ mother had left them in. Just looking at the care that had gone into the construction of the conveyance told her Jasper, Theo and Eli’s parents had loved them. So did the note that had been found with the babies. When she’d agreed to be their nanny, David McKay had given it to her to read.

      To the Lone Star Cowboy League: Please take care of my triplets. I’m widowed and penniless. The ranch is dried out. I can’t stay there and provide for my babies. I’m also very sick and am going to where I was born to meet my Maker. One day, if you could make sure the boys knew I loved them, I’d be obliged. They were born September 30. Was the happiest day of my life.

      The league had been seeing to their care ever since. First Louisa Clark, daughter of the town doctor, had taken a turn, but an illness had required the babies to be moved elsewhere. Caroline Murray, the woman who had married David McKay, had been hired to serve as nanny for the babies and David’s daughter, Maggie, but Caroline and the widowed father had fallen in love. When she’d injured her arm saving Maggie from a flash flood, it had been clear a new nanny was needed to care for the orphaned triplets. And Elizabeth, abandoned by yet another man she’d thought she’d marry, had been available and ready to help while she looked for something permanent.

      A shame she’d fallen in love as well, with three little boys she had no hope of keeping. Even if she could have persuaded the ranchers of the Lone Star Cowboy League to allow her to adopt the triplets, she had no way to support them. With her skills, she might have applied to be a cook, seamstress or some kind of teacher. But Little Horn had a teacher and seamstress; no one seemed to need a nanny or governess; and the only cooking jobs available would require her to go on cattle drives, spending weeks on the trail, where women were rare and babies could not go.

      No, she would have to give up her charges unless God intervened.

      A knock sounded on the door, and, with a look to Elizabeth, Mrs. Arundel went to answer. Brandon Stillwater stepped into the room with a compassionate, kind, humble smile Elizabeth was certain must be false. His sandy-brown hair was as thick as she remembered, combed carefully back from the high forehead her friend Florence had called noble. He stood tall, confident and reserved in his brown frock coat: the perfect minister. The look in his quicksilver eyes said he had come to help.

      But how could she accept help from a man she could not depend on?

      * * *

      Brandon smiled at the ladies in his congregation who had come to visit the triplets that morning. Mrs. Arundel puffed up as she usually did in his presence; the feather in the hat resting on her graying curls stood at attention as if even it was determined to have him know its wearer was a proper Christian lady. The brown-haired Mrs. Tyson was beaming at him in such a motherly manner that he was reminded of the sixteen jars of peaches she had provided him recently. Mrs. Fuller, however, had a speculative gleam in her golden-brown eyes that made him wonder what the women had been discussing before he entered.

      And then there was Elizabeth. Miss Dumont, some part of him chided. She had made it clear four years ago that she was no longer interested in having him court her, so he would have forfeited the right to use her first name as well. At least, in public. His heart, he feared, still defaulted to Elizabeth.

      She was regarding him now, her eyes the exact shade of the Charles River on a sunny day. The fine silk gowns she used to wear had been replaced by a practical dun-colored twill skirt and brown-and-green-striped blouse with the puffy sleeves that were all in fashion, if the ladies of his congregation were any indication. She’d covered her clothes with a cotton apron already decorated by working with the triplets. And she held herself as if she were royalty and everyone else was merely here on her sufferance.

      “Come to see the babies too, Pastor?” Mrs. Fuller asked with a grin. “Or someone else?”

      He ignored the implication, bending to put his head closer to the baby who was squirming in her arms. This had to be Jasper. He was the most rambunctious, always laughing or playing. Theo, on the other hand, was shy, hugging his nanny close more often than not. And Eli was the watchful one, taking his cue from his brothers. Now Jasper flashed a grin that showed two white teeth before reaching for Brandon.

      “And how are our little men today?” he asked, opening his arms to offer to take the baby.

      Elizabeth stepped between him and Mrs. Fuller. “Quite energetic, as you can see.” She intercepted Jasper before the baby reached Brandon. Jasper pouted as he peered over her shoulder at him.

      Brandon knew the feeling of frustration. It came over him every time he was in Elizabeth’s company.

      She set Jasper in the chair next to Theo’s. Mrs. Tyson brought her Eli, who reached out a hand to grasp Theo’s as he sat in the third chair.

      “As I was saying, it’s just about feeding time,” Elizabeth told her company, “so it might be best if you leave me to it.” She smiled at the women. “We all know the damage a baby can do to a nice dress.”

      The women all chorused agreement, patting down their cotton skirts as they took their leave and headed for the door. Mrs. Arundel paused to eye Brandon.

      “A baby can damage a fine suit as well, Pastor,” she informed him, as if he hadn’t already been christened by each of the triplets since his brother had found them at the county fair six weeks ago.

      “Then I’ll just have to rely on the Lord’s mercy and the skill of the kind ladies who do my washing,” he replied with a smile.

      The older woman glanced at Elizabeth, brows narrowing. “But you can’t stay. It isn’t proper.”

      Not proper for him to care about three babies left alone in the world? Even if the little fellows hadn’t tugged at his heart, as the minister of the only church in Little Horn, it was surely his duty to see to their well-being. He was called in to comfort and mediate in most areas, from praying over sick children to finding homes for orphans like Jo and Gil Satler to stopping the feud between Dorothy Hill and Tug Coleman and their families.

      “Not proper at all,” Elizabeth agreed, arms crossed over her chest. “And I know Reverend Stillwater is very careful about his reputation.”

      There was an edge to her words, as if trying to live up to his calling was somehow shocking. She’d known him since he’d attended divinity school at Harvard. What else would she have expected him to become but a minister?

      “It’s all right,” Mrs. Tyson said, stepping back into the room. “I can stay a little longer. You go ahead, Margaret. I’ll join you for tea in a bit.”

      With a nod, Mrs. Arundel sailed from the room, her feather high.

      And he had a chaperone. He could have told Mrs. Tyson that she had no need for concern. Elizabeth Dumont would have no use for him even if he proposed marriage right then and there.

      The older lady went over and clucked at the babies as Elizabeth moved to the dresser against the far wall and picked up one of the jars of applesauce crowding the surface. He was pleased to see the ladies of his congregation had been equally generous to the babies as they were to him. The gingham-topped jars of pears would be from Mrs. Dooley; he had a dozen like them at the parsonage. Betsy McKay had likely donated the stewed plums, the purple glinting in the light. For the triplets’ sake, he hoped the applesauce had come from Lula May McKay, for she was one of the best cooks and canners in the area, not to mention being the leader of the Lone Star Cowboy League.

      Elizabeth came back to the high chairs carrying the jar and a silver spoon. Once, she’d presided over an entire table laden with silver and fine china and crystal. Her long red hair had been smoothed into a tight bun, and the emeralds at her ears and throat had called attention to her almond-shaped eyes. The smile she’d offered him across the table had been bright, eager, almost as if she couldn’t wait to learn more about him.