Cecily shrank back from the stranger as if he were a wild native wielding a hatchet, though he made no move to touch her.
“You cannot be serious,” she whispered. “I can’t marry you!”
His earnest expression showed him to be quite sincere.
“I make a decent enough living as an accountant at the lumber mill; I have a cabin nearby and can provide for both you and your sister.” He calmly rattled off his assets as she continued to stare in shock. “My offer isn’t made without a mutual need, Miss McGiver. I have a small son who requires a mother. My wife died two years ago, and Zeke was a good friend. I feel beholden to give aid to the woman he was set to marry. Given your situation, I believe the plan ideal.”
Aid was one thing—but marriage?
She gathered her wits and struggled to stand as quickly as she was able, ignoring the hand he held out to assist. “Thank you for your offer, Mr….” A little hysterically she realized this man offered a lifetime commitment, and she didn’t even know his name! Though clearly he knew hers.
“Forgive me for the oversight. Hunter. Garrett Hunter.”
He tipped his hat. The alarming thought swept through her mind that he might be aptly named. A hunter, indeed. And she felt cornered.
“Yes, well, thank you, Mr. Hunter—”
“Garrett, please—”
“But I see that my group is leaving, and we must join them.” She held out her hand for Gwen to take. “Thank you for telling me about Zeke.” She realized that she’d not even inquired how he died, but she refused to linger. She would ask around later. “Good-bye.”
With a flustered parting nod, she hurried away, toting her sister along, relieved when they caught up to the others. As they took the path to the hotel, she couldn’t resist a peek over her shoulder. As suspected, as she’d felt, Garrett Hunter stood where she’d left him—looking in her direction.
Cecily hastened her steps.
A quarter-hour later, once they were settled in a room at DeLin’s Hotel and Gwen slept in her first real bed in months, Cecily paced the cold floorboards and brooded over her conversation with Zeke’s friend. The man had been considerate, certainly no threat. Nor had he behaved the least bit indecently. Yet she had treated him like a wolf stalking sheep that had strayed too far from the pen.
She sighed and rubbed her forehead and the ache that settled there. It had been a difficult year. Her plan to sail alone changed when Aunt Jocasta died unexpectedly a week before Cecily was due to depart. A wealth of determination with no meager amount of pleading persuaded the captain to take Gwen at a lower fare, all that Cecily could afford after booking her own steep passage, the bulk of it paid by Zeke. The promise to share meals with her sister prodded the captain’s eventual agreement, though what little food Gwen ate at sea often failed to stay down.
With concern, Cecily eyed her frail sister lying fast asleep and clutching her rag doll, all she’d been allowed to bring—save for one carpetbag packed with as much as Cecily could stuff into it. Gwen hardly resembled the active, rosy-cheeked child of three months ago, and Cecily grimly resolved to do all she must to bring that little girl back to life.
With less than two dollars in her reticule, Cecily set out the next morning to procure permanent living arrangements. She soon learned that polite determination along with a promise to help in any capacity needful offered poor enticement where fear and superstition ran amok. Though she’d left Gwen behind to rest, assuring a swift return, word had spread about her sister’s illness—false word to be sure. Cecily no more than mentioned Gwen, and all of a sudden potential boarders were without a spare bed. In some cases, it was likely true. At a few homes she’d been advised to try, she noticed fellow shipmates had found shelter. But Cecily was always turned away, albeit politely.
She couldn’t afford a second night’s stay at the hotel. Finding a place to lodge in this unknown township was paramount, as was the need to secure work. She had hoped to obtain both by the afternoon. If only she had applied herself better to her schooling and acquired a certificate to teach! She was reasonably intelligent, knew the fundamentals of reading and writing but very little arithmetic, the bane of her existence. Her attempts at sewing bordered on pathetic, certainly not worthy of securing employment as a seamstress’s assistant.
Like most women, she yearned for a husband and children. Lowell had been scarce of men since the War Between the States took so many away to fight and die. Reading a friend’s circular with adverts from a handful of men looking to find a wife willing to live in the Pacific Northwest, then spotting Zeke’s name, had seemed like a godsend. Though at times, like now, Cecily questioned if God was truly listening.
The evening sun hung low in the sky when Cecily approached the mercantile. The township wasn’t as populated as Lowell but, after hours of traversing muddy roads and skirting scattered stumps to arrive at suggested locales only to receive nothing but bitter disappointment, it felt gargantuan in size. Men clearly outnumbered women in this part of the world, and most of the former appeared rowdy and wild. Once, she even needed to scurry across the street when a fistfight broke out ahead of her. Throughout the day, she received numerous looks, some curious, some lewd, but thankfully no one approached. Her stomach churned with hunger and nerves. She’d had no more than an apple a kind woman offered—eating half, saving the remainder for Gwen—but despaired returning to the hotel until she met with success.
The matronly storekeeper was kind but apologetic, explaining that she and her husband barely had space for themselves in their home above the shop. Nor did they need help, and dejected, Cecily exited the mercantile. She eyed her surroundings, wondering where on earth to go next. The endless blue ocean sparkled between buildings across the street, the vast wilderness of towering deciduous and evergreen forest flanking the rest of the settlement. One snow-flecked mountain stood prominent across the water, beautiful—but the entire vista felt like yet another obstacle, making her feel trapped.
She had exhausted all suggestions given and strongly considered knocking on each and every door she saw. Zeke had been a lumberman. He wrote in one of the two letters she received of his plan to build them a cabin near the logging camp. In desperation, she wondered where the cabin was located, and if she and her sister might find shelter there.
The agitated whinny of a horse brought her attention to the street. A young woman had just escaped being run over by a wagon, darting in front of it to cross the road, judging by the irate driver’s harsh expletives. He shook his fist at her and drove away. Another man bent to help her collect belongings that had fallen from her basket then tipped his hat in farewell and continued in Cecily’s direction. The girl turned to watch him.
Cecily inhaled a soft breath when he noticed her in front of the mercantile and crossed the street to where she stood.
“Good evening, Miss McGiver.” Garrett Hunter tugged at his hat brim. “I hope your day has met with success.”
Feeling foolish for her panicked behavior the night before, she politely smiled, in need of a confidante. “Actually, no, I cannot find lodgings. I nearly met with success a few times, and then I mentioned my sister. The gossips have been busy. Everyone here seems to think Gwen has the plague!”
“She didn’t look all that well.”
“Only from being seasick and half starved,” Cecily said wearily, having used the explanation all day. “Added to that, we recently lost our aunt who took us in when Gwen was a babe. She took her death very hard.”
“I’m sorry, but don’t take any bad reactions to heart. There recently was something of an epidemic, nothing fatal, but it was nasty. People are afraid to take the risk.”
Cecily sighed, fully understanding such logic, but it didn’t help her predicament. “I should have asked last night, but how did Zeke die?”
Garrett studied the activity across the street. “An accident while logging.”
“Oh.” She thought about that. “What kind of accident?”
He grew silent a moment then looked at her. “Ever hear of a widowmaker?” She shook her head and he went on. “A thick branch fell from a tree and hit him in the head.”
Cecily winced. “How long ago?”
“About a month now.”
“I see.” She felt sorry to hear it and not only because it left her with no place to go. “Zeke mentioned a cabin he was building for us. Any idea where it is?”
Garrett squinted at her in alarm. “You can’t live there, if that’s what you’re thinking. Not only is it unfinished—no roof—you wouldn’t last a week.”
She drew herself up in offense. “I’m a lot tougher than I look, Mr. Hunter. Last night’s swoon was simply a fluke.”
“This is a different land than what you’re accustomed to, Miss McGiver, with predators native to this forest, wild animals you’ve never encountered, and you without a weapon to fight them off. Such a choice would be doubly harsh on your sister.”
He was right, not that she would admit it.
“I’m only trying to find a solution.”
He pursed his lips, nodded once, and looked her straight in the eye. “Have you considered my proposal?”
She stared at him in disbelief. “You mean—to marry? You were serious?”
“As the sun is to rise at dawn and the moon to light a path by night.”
Taken aback by his lyrical reply, she shook her head. “I don’t even know you!”
“You said you didn’t know Zeke that well, and it’s what you came here to do. Marry.”
“Yes, but at least I knew about him, since we grew up in the same town. I heard things. I knew of his disposition. I know absolutely nothing about you.”
“Oh, well if that’s what it takes to set your mind at ease, come with me.” He motioned to the door she’d just exited. Wary but curious what he was up to, Cecily retraced her steps inside.
“Garrett!” The woman behind the counter greeted him with a wide, nearly toothless smile. “Haven’t seen much of you lately. Been burning the midnight oil over them books?” She glanced at Cecily, a curious light in her eyes to see her again so soon, but included her in her smile. Her husband, stick-thin where she was plump, stood beside her, arranging a box of shaving brushes on the counter. He nodded to Garrett in greeting.
“You know me too well, Mrs. Crabb. I was hoping you could inform Miss McGiver here, well…” He paused, suddenly uncertain. “If you could tell her a little about me?”
Mrs. Crabb looked back and forth between them, a dozen questions popping up in her eyes, but nodded briskly. “I’d be happy to oblige.” She focused her attention on Cecily. “Garrett, here, is one of the kindest souls you’ll meet. A gentleman if ever I knew one, and a God-fearing man besides. Goes to church meetings as often as they hold them. And if there’s a body in need, Garrett’s one of the first to meet the call. Why, when old Mr. Flaherty’s home burned to ash, Garrett here was the man in charge of rounding up volunteers to build him a new one. I know he was responsible for footing the bill for the lumber, though he never admitted to it,” she said in an aside to Cecily, sotto voce, as if revealing a confidence. “When Mrs. Jenkins lost her husband to consumption, Garrett here helped with repairs to her home, even finding a milk cow for the young’uns….”
Garrett fidgeted, clearly uneasy. “Thank you, Mrs. Crabb—”
“He’s honest, hardworking, and a more devoted father you’ll not find,” the storekeeper continued. “He dotes on that adorable tyke of his. It’s a right shame he hasn’t found a wife, though the handful of unmarried ladies in these parts tried to turn his head more than once, I daresay.”
Garrett’s face, by this time, had turned berry red. “Yes, well, I think that’s enough—”
Mr. Crabb chuckled, and Cecily struggled not to grin, enjoying this impromptu testimonial to his character.
“Did I mention he’s a good listener? Always has time to pass with us old folks, plays checkers now and then with my man Frederick here. And you’d have to be blind not to see what a handsome fellow he is—strong, too. Why, I’ve seen him lift a full barrel of molasses as if it was eiderdown.”
“I think Miss McGiver has the general idea,” Garrett said hastily. “Thanks for your time. We must be going.”
Cecily made no objection as he took her arm and hurried her out of the mercantile.
Outside, she could no longer withhold the light laughter that bubbled so near the surface.
Garrett looked at her awkwardly. “Yes, well…” He cleared his throat and matched her smile. “She’s prone to exaggeration, but I hope you feel more at ease about the prospect.”
Given what she already knew about Garrett Hunter, Cecily didn’t think the woman exaggerated in the slightest. “I do,” she admitted.
His eyes flared a little wider, and Cecily took note of them for the first time. Gray-green, with a dark rim framed by darker lashes. Heavy, neat brows the shade of his hair, what she could see of it beneath the hat. Dark brown with a curl at the ends. He stood a half head taller than her, lean of build, his shoulders broad, clearly strong, but with gentleness in his demeanor.
“Does that mean you accept?”
She studied him, surprised to consider it. “If I agree, what would you expect of me? As a wife?”
The nervous tone of her words made clear what she was asking.
“In all honesty?”
She nodded.
“I won’t ask for more than you’re willing to give. I won’t demand that you share my bed, leastways not yet. That is, I won’t pressure you, not until you’re ready.”
She was sure her face achieved the cherry color his had in the mercantile. Oddly, he showed more ease than minutes ago—still nervous but appearing calmer as he clarified his expectations. But then, he had been married before.
“I’m not going about this very well, am I?” He chuckled ruefully. “Let me try again. You’re a lovely woman, Cecily, and you possess a pure soul. You’re determined and fiercely loyal. I like that. The bond of marriage is everlasting as I see it, and one day I would want you as my true wife.”
Hearing her name so softly leave his lips and the earnest candor of his chosen words sent prickles of warmth shivering up her spine and tingling to her toes. How could he know those things about her on such short acquaintance, barely a day? Attraction clearly wasn’t an issue for either of them, but Cecily needed more. “I—I couldn’t possibly consider consummating—not now.”
“I don’t expect so. But I would hope, maybe one day…”
Her face grew more heated with her choice of words, and she felt a little breathless as she looked up into his eyes full of question.
“Yes…I—I mean…one day. Maybe.”
She felt as if she floated in a dream—good or bad she had yet to decide. Were they truly having this conversation? Had she just agreed to become this man’s wife?
Garrett smiled. A slightly crooked tooth did nothing to diminish his pleasant appearance. “Then I shall be content with that. Let us embark on this venture in friendship. I vow you’ll always have a home and your needs met, you and your sister.”
She tilted her head in puzzlement. “Why are you not concerned like everyone else that what Gwen has might be catching?”
“Call it a hunch, but I believe you’re right and she’s just bone weary. I would like Doc Maynard to look her over, regardless.”
Cecily nodded in relief to hear the town had a physician.
“Well, then?”
The glowing pink ball of the sun had nearly met the horizon. She was out of funds to stay at the hotel and out of time to search for other prospects.
Garrett’s offer was, quite literally, all she had left.
Taking a deep, nervous breath, Cecily once more took a step into unfamiliar territory, hoping it wouldn’t send her plummeting into an abyss of regret.
“Very well, Mr. Hunter, I accept your proposal.”