Page 67 of Waiting for the Rancher
Maverick’s siblings were all there. Weston stood beside him—had ridden up from Fairplay yesterday with his wife Serena and their little boy.
Ryder hunched beside Weston, his head down, his grief more palpable than anyone else’s. It was almost like a mountain lion pacing back and forth. His wife hadn’t come with him. If the rumors were true, she’d run off and was now living with another fellow even though she was expecting Ryder’s baby.
Tanner was between Clarabelle and Clementine, his head down too. He’d been off in the wilderness like always, and theyhadn’t been sure if word of the death would reach him in time for the funeral. But somehow he’d gotten the message and had traveled all night and arrived at the cemetery just in time.
Clarabelle and Clementine had taken the death hard too, blaming themselves the same way Maverick was. They’d cried lots of tears in Hazel’s arms over the past two days, questioning why their ma had to go and wishing they’d done more to help her.
Reverend Livingston, at the head of the gravesite, began to pray in closing. As he did so, Hazel rubbed her thumb across Maverick’s hand and prayed for him.
Her heart hurt for him, and the ache pushed up into her throat. Was it possible to love anyone more than she loved him? She didn’t think so.
The beautiful memories of the past few weeks of being married to him flashed through her mind. Those first couple of days of their idyllic honeymoon at Dewitt’s Hotel. After leaving the church, Maverick had sent a message to Sterling, letting him know about the marriage and asking him to inform both of their families they’d be gone a couple of days.
When they’d finally returned to their homes, they hadn’t been sure what to expect. Mostly their families had been happy with the news, although her mother had been disappointed that she hadn’t been able to plan or participate in the wedding.
When they’d gone into Mrs. Oakley’s bedroom, she’d only had to take one look at their faces and their locked hands to know what had happened, and she’d exclaimed that it was past time for their union. They’d spent every evening with her, hoping their visits and seeing their love for each other would revive her.
But she’d only seemed all the more content to let loose her grip of this life and move on to the next one, where she could be with her husband.
Hazel could understand to some degree Mrs. Oakley’s need to be with her husband again. After being married to Maverick for three weeks, she was more intertwined with him than she’d ever believed possible. If he were ripped away from her, he’d take a part of her with him.
As the reverend’s prayer came to an end, the silence around the grave was broken only by the wind whispering through the new leaves on the aspens that surrounded the cleared area of the cemetery outside of Breckenridge.
The May sunshine peeked through the clouds now and then, as if to remind them that though darkness often came, the light was always there waiting to break through, like with the miracle of the birth of another foal last night. She and Maverick had worked together most of the night for the foaling and had finally fallen asleep together in the haymow for a couple of hours.
Even with the shadows of his ma’s death hanging over them, the birthing had been beautiful, and Hazel had loved that this time they hadn’t needed to go their separate ways afterward, that they could hold each other and kiss in the hay to their heart’s content.
As people began to mill about the gravesite, the widower Mr. Meyer, with his two young children, approached Clarabelle.
Mr. Meyer was a German immigrant with a small homestead to the east of the Oakleys. He’d lost his wife last year, and now as he watched Clarabelle interacting with his children, his eyes reflected his intentions.
Hazel knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop, but as Maverick exchanged a few words with Ryder, she couldn’t keep from listening as Mr. Meyer spoke with Clarabelle.
He held his hat and twisted the brim. “I am sorry for your loss, Miss Oakley.”
“Thank you for coming today.” Clarabelle spoke politely back, her attention still on the children who were students at theschool where Clarabelle assisted. Dieter with his fair hair was six, and Bianca had long, dark hair and was five.
“Father says you can become our new Mutti,” Bianca said, “now that you’re not needed at your home.”
The man shook his head, his face filling with chagrin as he fired off a rebuke to his daughter in German. She said something back in German, her eyes wide and innocent.
Clarabelle retreated a step.
“I’m sorry.” Mr. Meyer held out a hand as though to stop her from going. “I was not planning to ask you to marry me on a day such as this. This is not a goot day.”
“It isn’t a good day.”
He nodded, twisting his hat even faster in his strong fingers. “I will soon a visit pay?”
Clarabelle glanced up, alarm now creasing her forehead. “I don’t think I’m the right woman—”
“You will think about it, yes?” His eyes held such hope.
She hesitated.
Hazel held her breath. Of Maverick’s twin sisters, Clarabelle had a harder time telling people no. But she surely wouldn’t rush into a marriage decision like this, would she?
“Ready?” Maverick whispered, grasping Hazel’s hand more securely in his.
