Wagon Train Proposal. Renee Ryan
couldn’t say he blamed the man. When he’d first arrived at the Blue Mountains Pass, he’d been eager for a quick match with Emma Hewitt.
The moment he’d realized that Nathan and Emma were falling in love, he’d immediately backed off. Having experienced a happy, loving marriage himself, Tristan wished them well.
Unfortunately, his daughters were still without a mother. And Tristan was no closer to finding them one than when he’d left Oregon City.
A familiar laugh pulled his attention to a handful of children gathering near the Hewitt wagon. Rachel was organizing them in a circle, a ball in her hand, probably with the idea of keeping the boys and girls out of their parents’ way as they prepared for the trip down the Columbia.
Abigail Black joined the group a moment later.
Just as the women formed a makeshift circle, one of the smaller boys broke away from the others. Looking back over his shoulder, laughing at his friends, he ran flat out.
The child wasn’t paying attention to where his feet were taking him—straight for the river.
Tristan’s breath lodged in his throat. He moved without thinking. But not fast enough. The terrible sound of a splash rent the air. He dropped to his knees at the water’s edge and reached out, catching hold of a tiny arm.
Heart pounding, he plucked the child from the water and set him on dry land.
Soaking wet, water dripping off his dark hair, the little boy grinned up at him. “That was fun, Sheriff. Can I do it again? Can I, huh? Can I?”
He had opened his mouth to explain the dangers of running off from the group when Rachel skidded to a stop beside him. By the set of her jaw, and the uneven cadence of her breathing, Tristan knew he had an ally. No matter who did the talking, the little boy would not be playing by the river anymore today.
Lungs burning, her pulse pounding in her ears, Rachel divided her attention between Tristan and the wet child staring expectantly up at him. The sheriff appeared outwardly calm, in complete control of the situation.
Rachel wasn’t nearly as composed.
A slower uptake on Tristan’s part, a clumsier snatch, and the six-year-old would have been swallowed up by the river.
She didn’t know whether to sigh in relief or scold the child for his recklessness.
Tristan made the decision for her, choosing something in between the two responses. “The river is a dangerous place, Donny.” He met the boy’s gaze. “You must stay near the wagons. You will give me your promise.”
Huffing out a sigh, Donny scuffed his foot on the grass. “I promise, Sheriff.”
Tristan’s shoulders relaxed and he patted the boy on the back. “Good man.”
Donny’s chest puffed out with pride, either from the praise itself or being called a man, Rachel couldn’t say. One thing she did know. From the glint of adoration in the child’s expression, Tristan was the boy’s new favorite adult.
Unfortunately, he was becoming Rachel’s favorite adult, as well, which was rather inconvenient. She had enough to worry about without a growing admiration for a man she hardly knew, a man who was more interested in finding a woman to mother his children than a wife for himself.
Depressing thought.
Still, his quick reflexes had saved a young child’s life. She gave him a grateful smile.
His lips lifted in response.
A silent message spread between them, solidarity in their shared concern for a little boy. In that moment, Rachel felt more connected to Tristan than anyone else on the wagon train.
She wrenched her gaze free and focused on Donny. A beat later Delores Jensen rushed across the soggy grass, calling out her son’s name. Her voice held a frantic, high-pitched note.
“Oh, Donny.” She dropped to her knees and tugged her son against her. Complaining she was holding him too tight, the boy squirmed free.
Attention still on her son, Mrs. Jensen regained her feet. She pressed a kiss to the boy’s head and then gave Tristan a shaky smile. “Thank you, Sheriff.” Her wide gaze was filled with equal parts terror and relief. “Donny can’t swim. You saved his life.”
“I was merely in the right place at the right time. Rachel was only one step behind me.” His voice came out low and gruff, but his eyes were gentle as they fell on her. “I’m confident she would have caught Donny if I hadn’t gotten to him first.”
Not true.
Rachel had been too far behind the boy. She started to say as much, but the other woman spoke over her. “Nevertheless, your quick reflexes prevented certain disaster.”
Donny, already losing interest in the adult conversation, asked his mother if he could go back and play with the other children again.
All heads swung in the direction of the Hewitt wagon. Abby had taken over where Rachel had left off. Mandolin in hand, she set about organizing the boys and girls in a semicircle, their backs facing the riverbank. Clearly, she was about to sing a song for them.
It was a perfect ploy to keep the children away from the unfolding drama at the water’s edge. Rachel smiled as one of the smaller girls climbed onto her future sister-in-law’s lap. Her brother’s fiancée would make a superb mother one day.
Her smile slipped as a startling wave of longing took hold. She desperately wanted what her siblings had found on the trail. Family. A secure future. Love. She had to believe her time would come.
She just needed a little faith.
“Thank you, again, Sheriff.” Mrs. Jensen pulled her son close to her side. “Come on, baby, let’s get you into some clean, dry clothes, then you can play with the other children.”
Mother and son ambled away, Donny grumbling over the delay.
The moment they were alone again, Rachel became enormously attuned to the man standing beside her. She could feel his focus on her, intent and unflinching and, while he hadn’t moved, it was as though he’d grown larger, more solid.
Aware of his presence, of his strength and big, broad shoulders, she stifled a sigh. Every one of her senses seemed unnaturally heightened, her every heartbeat full of raw emotion.
Had to be a result of her scare with Donny, and not because the handsome sheriff was standing a little too close, a little too large and imposing.
An uncomfortable sensation swept through her, something she’d never experienced before meeting Tristan. “We both know I wouldn’t have caught Donny in time.”
“You would have.” There was more than just kindness in the remark. But also a certainty in her ability to save the child that had her glancing his way and taking in his handsome profile.
He stared out over the rushing water, his expression thoughtful.
“How can you be so sure?” she asked aloud.
He turned his head, held her gaze. “I’ve watched you with the wagon train children. I’ve seen the lengths you go to in order to ensure their safety. If necessary, you would have jumped in the river to save that boy.”
“Which is practically what you did, yourself.”
He reached to the ground, picked up the hat that had fallen off in the commotion and shoved it back on his head. “I did what needed to be done.”
He was such a good man, humble and brave, and if Rachel wasn’t very, very careful, she could find herself caring for him beyond what was wise. “It was more than that. Had you not acted with lightning speed, Donny would have drowned.”
There.