The Bride’s Matchmaking Triplets. Regina Scott

door close behind her.

      Mrs. Tyson came to lay a hand on her shoulder. “Pastor Stillwater is a good man. I’m sure he was only trying to help.”

      Had she looked as if she was about to breathe fire at the minister? She certainly felt as if she could. Instead, Elizabeth gave the lady a bright smile. “But why should I trouble your pastor when I have all you lovely ladies to help?”

      Mrs. Tyson’s round face turned a pleased pink. “We are delighted to help you, dear.” She bent and picked up Theo, whose eyes were already drifting closed. “Such darling boys. They make me miss my own sons.”

      Elizabeth was almost afraid to ask, but it seemed the right thing to do. “What happened to your boys?”

      Mrs. Tyson straightened slowly, then carried the baby toward the nearby crib. “They are grown men now. They had to leave to find work during the drought, but I have hopes they might return soon. In the meantime, if you need anything, please send word.” She laid Theo in the crib and smiled down at him a moment before helping Elizabeth transfer the other two into the crib as well. Then Elizabeth saw her out.

      As she shut the door behind Mrs. Tyson, Elizabeth drew in a breath. At least that was over. Glancing back, she saw that all three boys had dozed off. In the silence, she could hear the clock ticking on the dresser.

      Peace. Quiet.

      Normally, that would be a blessing. Caring for the triplets was exhilarating and exhausting. She appreciated the moments when she could relax. But now all she could think about was Brandon Stillwater and the life she had once known.

      Not for the first time, she wished Aunt Evangeline was still alive. Her aunt, who had raised Elizabeth after her parents’ death when she was a toddler, had always encouraged her to dream big.

      “You could be an explorer, discovering new plants and animals,” she’d said, excitement dancing in her green eyes. “Or a novelist, unleashing the potential of the human heart. Only the best for you, my dear Elizabeth.”

      Sometimes, sitting around the dinner table with people so famous and talented, she had thought she had found her calling, to be a society hostess like her aunt, bringing people together, sharing knowledge, encouragement. Other times, she wondered. Why must she be the one to listen to other people’s adventures? Why couldn’t she have adventures of her own as her aunt suggested?

      Brandon had seemed to understand when she’d emboldened herself to confess her yearnings. After that first dinner, he had called whenever he could slip away from his studies. Studying, it seemed, wasn’t too difficult for him. They’d talk in her aunt’s opulent sitting room, take walks in the nearby park. They had been strolling beside an ornamental pond in the center of the park one Sunday afternoon when she’d told him she wished she might do something more.

      “My brother, Bo, says the same thing,” he’d answered, bending to pick up a stone from the path and toss it into the pond.

      She hadn’t met his brother yet. She hadn’t met anyone in his family, although she knew his mother had passed away and his father was an invalid. Aunt Evangeline said Mr. Stillwater senior was a fine gentleman who had run a prosperous business in Cambridge. Elizabeth had wondered why Brandon hadn’t introduced her, but she was certain it was only a matter of time.

      “And what sort of adventures does your brother want to have?” she asked, lifting her green silk skirts away from a puddle in the path.

      Brandon smiled. “He wants to move to Texas and build a cattle ranch. He’s been studying under a rancher here, and he thinks he’s ready to take on the frontier.”

      “Like a cowboy in the dime novels?” Elizabeth grinned. “How marvelous! What could be more thrilling than fighting desperadoes to carve a home in the wilderness?”

      Brandon tossed another rock in the pond with a plunk. “Well, the Texas Rangers make short work of any desperadoes, from what I understand. But Bo will certainly be carving at the wilderness.” He glanced her way. “He wants me to go with him.”

      To Texas? The image that came to mind, of a woman in gingham skirts shooting her own dinner as she rode across the plains, was brave and bold and a little scary. She wanted adventure, but perhaps she ought to start with something more tame.

      She’d linked arms with Brandon. “Too bad you’re already being considered for a position at St. Matthew’s. We can cheer your brother on from here. Just think how much fun it will be to sit around the hearth and read his postcards.”

      She’d never dreamed necessity would drive her to this Texas town, or that she’d discover Brandon here as well.

      She went to the window now and gazed out at Little Horn. The boardinghouse was near the end of Second Street, with the church and school among the buildings opposite. She could see the doctor’s house between them. Louisa, the doctor’s daughter who had first cared for the triplets, had married Brandon’s brother, Bo. The two men were twins, it seemed. Why hadn’t she known that? Why hadn’t she been good enough to meet his family?

      Why hadn’t she been good enough to be his wife?

      She could still see Florence’s face as her friend had relayed the hurtful message a few days after the scandal about her uncle had become common knowledge.

      “He releases you from any agreement you might have thought the two of you had,” she’d said, pretty face scrunched as if she’d felt Elizabeth’s pain. “As a minister, he must protect his reputation. He hopes you’ll understand.”

      But she hadn’t. He’d claimed to love her. Though he hadn’t proposed yet, he’d given her every indication that he would do so soon. They’d shared a tender kiss that had left her breathless.

      She was still the same person, for all her uncle had been sent to prison, his properties foreclosed to pay off those he’d swindled. Why must she be punished for his actions?

      She’d wanted to go to Brandon, beg him to reconsider. If there were those who would condemn him for associating with the family of a convict, surely there were others who would praise him for his charity. But Florence had convinced her that Brandon would not see her, so she had soldiered on alone.

      And Brandon had headed west to become pastor of the church in Little Horn. His reputation must have remained spotless, for everyone in the area seemed to adore him.

      Eli whimpered in his sleep, recalling her to her duty. The little sweetheart was growing another tooth on the bottom, the pearly nub just breaking through, and she knew his tender gums kept him from sleeping soundly.

      Her heart, it seemed, was just as tender when it came to Brandon Stillwater. Only this time, she would listen to her head instead, and it cautioned her to keep her distance.

      * * *

      How was he supposed to keep his distance? Brandon’s legs ate up the dusty ground as he headed for his next appointment at the railway station. By word and deed, Elizabeth made it clear she had no use for him. But he was the minister. Having no parents, Jasper, Theo and Eli were under his care, for all he could not see to their needs on a moment-by-moment basis. He had every right and responsibility to check on them, to make sure they were safe and well cared for.

      He couldn’t deny she was doing a good job. The boys seemed content in her company, happy even, especially after being shuttled between houses since their mother had abandoned them. Elizabeth was good to them, efficient, yet gentle, taking the time to talk to and touch her little charges as if she were their mother.

      She’d make a marvelous mother and a wonderful wife.

      A wife for someone other than him. He had to remember that.

      The best thing he could do was keep busy, which shouldn’t be hard. He had a long list of tasks today. Amos Crenshaw had asked him to stop by to discuss the house the railway was building for the stationmaster and his family. Brandon ought to check on Tug Coleman and see how the widowed rancher was faring after the wildfire that had destroyed part of his spread. Then he’d swing