Their Frontier Family

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The Wedding Promise

No one is more surprised than Sunny Licht when Noah Whitmore proposes. She’s a scarlet woman and an unwed mother—an outcast even in her small Quaker community. But she can’t resist Noah’s offer of a fresh start in a place where her scandalous past is unknown.

In Sunny, the former Union soldier sees a woman whose loneliness matches his own. When they arrive in Wisconsin, he’ll see that she and her baby daughter want for nothing...except the love that war burned out of him. Yet Sunny makes him hope once more—for the home they’re building, and the family he never hoped to find.

“Sunny, will thee be my wife and go west with me?”

Noah’s hand was large and rough but so gentle, and his touch warmed her. Then she did something she had barely learned to do—she prayed. Dear Father, should I marry Noah Whitmore?

She waited, wondering if the Inner Light the Quakers believed in would come to her now, when she needed it so. She glanced up into Noah’s eyes and his loneliness beckoned her, spoke to her own lonesome heart. “Yes,” she whispered, shocking herself. Her words pushed goose bumps up along her arms.

“May God bless your union with a love as rich and long as Eve’s and mine,” Solomon said. The elderly man’s words were emphasized by the tender look he turned to his spouse, who beamed at him in turn.

Oh, to be loved that way. Sunny turned to Noah and glimpsed stark anguish flickering in his dark, dark eyes. Maybe Noah, born and raised among these gentle people, would be capable of love like that.

But what could I possibly have to offer in the way of love?

About the Author

LYN COTE and her husband, her real-life hero, became in-laws recently when their son married his true love. Lyn already loves her daughter-in-law and enjoys this new adventure in family stretching. Lyn and her husband still live on the lake in the north woods, where they watch a bald eagle and its young soar and swoop overhead throughout the year. She wishes the best to all her readers. You may email Lyn at l.cote@juno.com or write her at P.O. Box 864, Woodruff, WI 54548. And drop by her blog, www.strongwomenbravestories.blogspot.com, to read stories of strong women in real life and in true-to-life fiction. “Every woman has a story. Share yours.”

Their Frontier Family

Lyn Cote

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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As far as the east from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us.

—Psalm 103:12

Therefore if any man be in Christ,

he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.

—2 Corinthians 5:17

To my hard-working and insightful editor,

Tina James

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Teaser Chapter

Chapter One

Pennsylvania, April 1869

“Harlot.”

Sunny Adams heard the harsh whisper across the nearly empty general store, knowing she was meant to hear it. Her heart clenched so tightly that she thought she might pass out. Two women at the door looked at her, lifted their noses, then turned and left the store, rudely jangling the little bell above.

She bowed her head, praying that she wouldn’t reveal the waves of shame coursing through her. Though she wore the plain clothing of the Quakers, a simple unruffled gray dress and bonnet, she hadn’t fooled anyone. They all saw through her mask.

A man cleared his throat. The storekeeper wanted her out. Could she blame him? While she shopped here, no “decent” woman would enter. She set down the bolt of blue calico she’d been admiring, hiding the trembling of her hands.

Feeling as if she were slogging through a cold, rushing flood, she moved toward the storekeeper. “I think that will be...all.” She opened her purse, paid for the items Mrs. Gabriel had sent her into town to purchase. Outwardly, she kept her head lowered. Inwardly, she dragged up her composure like a shield around her. Trying to avoid further slights, she hurried across the muddy street to the wagon. Approaching hooves sounded behind her but she didn’t look over her shoulder.

Just as she reached the wagon, a man stepped out of the shadows. “Let me help you up,” he said.

She backed away. This wasn’t the first time he’d approached her, and she had no trouble in identifying what he really wanted from her. “I don’t need your help.” She made her voice hard and firm. “Please do not accost me like this. I will tell Adam Gabriel—”

“He’s a Quaker,” the man sneered. “Won’t do anything to me. Just tell me to seek God or something.”

And with that, he managed to touch her inappropriately.

She stifled a scream. Because who would come to her aid if she called for help? A prostitute—even a reformed one—had no protectors.

“I’m a Quaker,” a man said from behind Sunny, “but I’ll do more than tell thee to seek God.”

Sunny spun around to see Noah Whitmore getting off his horse. Though she’d seen him at the Quaker meeting house earlier this year, she’d never spoken to him.

The man who’d accosted her took a step back. “I thought when you came back from the war, you repented and got all ‘turn the other cheek’ again.”

Noah folded his arms. “Thee ever hear the story about Samson using the jawbone of a jackass to slaughter Philistines?” Noah’s expression announced that he was in the mood to follow Samson’s example here and now.

Sunny’s heart pounded. Should she speak or remain silent?

The rude man began backing away. “She isn’t the first doxy the Gabriel family’s taken in to help.” The last two words taunted her. “Where’s the father of her brat? She’s not foolin’ anybody. She can dress up like a Quaker but she isn’t one. And we all know it.”

Noah took a menacing step forward and the man turned and bolted between stores toward the alley. Noah removed his hat politely. “I’m sorry,” he said simply.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

His pant legs were spattered with mud. He looked as if he had just now gotten back from the journey that had taken him away for the past few months. She’d noticed his absence—after all, it was a small church.

But honesty prompted her to admit that Noah had always caught her attention, right from the beginning.

Noah wasn’t handsome in the way of a charming gambler in a fancy vest. He was good-looking in a real way, and something about the bleak look in his eyes, the grim set of his face, always tugged at her, made her want to go to him and touch his cheek.

A foolish thing I could never do.

“Is thee happy here?” Noah asked her. The unexpected question startled her. She struggled to find a polite reply.

He waved a hand as if wiping the question off a chalkboard.

She was relieved. Happy was a word she rarely thought of in connection with her life.

She forced down the emotions bubbling up, churning inside her. She knew that Mrs. Gabriel sent her to town as a little change in the everyday routine of the farm, a boon, not an ordeal. I should tell her how it always is for me in town.

But Sunny hadn’t been able to bring herself to speak of the insults, snubs and liberties she faced during each trip to town—not to the sweet unsullied Quaker woman, Constance Gabriel. The woman who’d taken her in just before Christmas last year and treated her like a daughter.

Sunny then realized that Noah was waiting to help her up into the wagon and that she hadn’t answered his question. She hastily offered him her hand. “Yes, the Gabriels have been very good to me.”

Two women halted on the boardwalk and stared at the two of them with searing intensity and disapproval. Sunny felt herself blush. “I’d better go. Mrs. Gabriel will be wondering where I am,” Sunny said.

Noah frowned but then courteously helped her up onto the wagon seat. “If thee doesn’t mind, since I’m going thy way, I’ll ride alongside thee.”

What could she say? He wasn’t a child. He must know what associating with her would cost him socially. She slapped the reins and the wagon started forward. Noah swung up into his saddle and caught up to her.

Behind them both women made loud huffing sounds of disapproval.

“Don’t let them bother thee,” Noah said, leaning so she could hear his low voice. “People around here don’t think much of Quakers. We’re misfits.”

Sunny wondered if he might be partially right. Though she was sure the women were judging her, maybe they were judging him, too. Certainly Quakers dressed, talked and believed differently than any people she’d ever met before. She recalled now what she’d heard before, that Noah had gone to war. For some reason this had grieved his family and his church.

“You went to war,” slipped out before she could stop herself.

His mouth became a hard line. “Yes, I went to war.”

She’d said the wrong thing. “But you’re home now.”

Noah didn’t respond.

She didn’t know what to say so she fell silent, as well.

Twice wagons passed hers as she rode beside a pensive Noah Whitmore on the main road. The people in the wagons gawked at seeing the two of them together. Several times along the way she thought Noah was going to say more to her, but he didn’t. He looked troubled, too. She wanted to ask him what was bothering him, but she didn’t feel comfortable speaking to him like a friend. Except for the Gabriels, she had no friends here.

Finally when she could stand the silence no longer, she said, “You’ve been away recently.” He could take that as a question or a comment and treat it any way he wanted.

“I’ve been searching for a place of my own. I plan to homestead in Wisconsin.”

His reply unsettled her further. Why, she couldn’t say. “I see.”

“Has thee ever thought about leaving here?”

“Where would I go?” she said without waiting to think about how she should reply. She hadn’t learned to hold her quick tongue—unfortunately.

He nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

And what would I do? She had no way to support herself—except to go back to the saloon. Sudden revulsion gagged her.

Did those women in town think she’d chosen to be a prostitute? Did they think her mother had chosen to be one? A saloon was where a woman went when she had nowhere else to go. It wasn’t a choice; it was a life sentence.

As they reached the lane to the Whitmore family’s farm, Noah pulled at the brim of his hat. “Sunny, I’ll leave thee here. Thanks for thy company. After weeks alone it was nice to speak to thee.”

We didn’t say much—or rather, you didn’t. But Sunny smiled and nodded, her tongue tied by his kindness. He’d actually been polite to her in public. At the saloon, men were often polite but only inside. Outside they didn’t even look at her, the lowest of the low.

With a nod, Noah rode down the lane.

Sunny drove on in turmoil. A mile from home she stopped the wagon and bent her head, praying for self-control as she often did on her return trip from town. If she appeared upset, she would have to explain the cause of her distress to Constance Gabriel. And she didn’t want to do that. She owed the Gabriel family much. She’d met Mercy Gabriel, M.D., the eldest Gabriel daughter, in Idaho Territory. Dr. Mercy had delivered Sunny’s baby last year and then made the arrangements for Sunny to come here to her parents, Constance and Adam, and try for a new start.

But she couldn’t stay in this town for the rest of her life, no matter how kind the Gabriels had been.

“I have to get away from here. Start fresh.” Without warning the words she’d long held back were spoken aloud into the quiet daylight. But she had no plan. No place to go. No way to earn a living—except the way she had in the past.

She choked back a sob, not for herself but for her daughter. What if the type of public humiliation she’d suffered today happened a few years from now when her baby girl could understand what was being said about her mother?

Noah’s questions came back to her, and she felt a stab of envy that the man was free to simply pick up and start again somewhere new on his own. Sunny did not have that luxury. What am I going to do?

* * *

Noah slowly led his horse up the familiar lane, to the place he called home, but which really wasn’t home anymore. Sunny’s face lingered in his mind—so pretty and somehow still graced with a tinge of innocence.

Ahead, he saw his father and two of his brothers. His brothers stopped unloading the wagon and headed toward him. Not his father. He stared at Noah and then turned his back and stalked to the barn.

This galled Noah, but he pushed it down. Then he recalled how that man on Main Street had touched Sunny without any fear. It galled him to his core, too. She had no one to protect her. The man had been right; the Gabriels would not fight for her. The idea that had played through his mind over the past few months pushed forward again.

His eldest brother reached him first. “You came back.” He gripped Noah’s hand.

“I’m home.” For now. His other brothers shook his hand in welcome, none of them asking about his trip, afraid of what he’d say, no doubt.

“Don’t take it personally,” his eldest brother said, apologizing for their father’s lack of welcome with a nod toward the barn.

“It is meant personally,” Noah replied. “He will never forgive me for disagreeing with him and going to war.” Noah held up his hand. “Don’t make excuses for him. He’s not going to change.”

His brothers shifted uncomfortably on their feet, not willing to agree or disagree. They were caught in the middle.

But not for long. Meeting Sunny in town exactly when he’d come home and seeing her shamed in public had solidified his purpose. She needed his protection and he could provide it. But would she accept him?

* * *

Feeling like a counterfeit, Sunny perched on the backless bench in the quiet Quaker meeting for another Sunday morning of worship she didn’t understand. She sat near the back on the women’s side beside Constance Gabriel, who had taught Sunny to be still here and let the Inner Light lead her.

But how did that feel? Was she supposed to be feeling something besides bone-aching hopelessness?

Little Dawn stirred in her arms and Sunny patted her six-month-old daughter, soothing her to be quiet. I’ve brought this shame upon my daughter as surely as my mother brought it onto me. She pushed the tormenting thought back, rocking slightly on the hard bench not just to comfort Dawn, but herself, as well.

The door behind her opened, the sound magnified by the silence within. Even the devout turned their heads to glimpse who’d broken their peace.

He came. Awareness whispered through Sunny as Noah Whitmore stalked to the men’s side and sat down near, but still a bit apart from, his father and five older brothers. Today he was wearing his Sunday best like everyone else. His expression was stormy, determined.

Dawn woke in her arms and yawned. She was a sweet-tempered child, and as pretty as anything with reddish-blond hair and big blue eyes. As Sunny smiled down at her, an old, heartbreaking thought stung her. I don’t even know who your father is. Sunny closed her eyes and absorbed the full weight of her wretchedness, thankful no one could hear what was in her mind.

Noah Whitmore rose. This was not uncommon—the Quaker worship consisted of people rising to recite, discuss or quote scripture. However, in her time here, Noah had never risen. The stillness around Sunny became alert, sharp. Everyone looked at him. Unaccountably reluctant to meet his gaze, she lowered her eyes.

“You all know that I’ve been away,” Noah said, his voice growing firmer with each word. The congregation palpably absorbed this unexpected, unconventional announcement. In any other church, whispering might have broken out. Here, though, only shuttered glances and even keener concentration followed.

Sunny looked up and found that Noah Whitmore was looking straight at her. His intent gaze electrified her and she had to look away again.

“I’m making this announcement because I’ve staked a homestead claim in Wisconsin but must accumulate what’s necessary and return there while there is still time to put in a crop.” Still focusing on her, he paused and his jaw worked. “And I have chosen a woman who I hope will become a wife.”

A wife? Sunny sensed the conspicuous yet silent reaction Noah’s announcement was garnering. And since Noah was staring at her, everyone was now studying her, too. He couldn’t...no, he—

“Adam Gabriel,” Noah said, his voice suddenly gruffer, “I want to ask for thy foster daughter Sunny’s hand in marriage. And I want us to be married now, here, today.”

Ice shot through Sunny. She heard herself gasp. And she was not the only one. She couldn’t think straight. Noah wanted to marry her?

I couldn’t have heard that right.

Adam Gabriel and Noah’s father, Boaz, surged to their feet, both looking shocked, upset. A few other men rose and turned toward Noah.

White-haired Solomon Love, the most elderly and respected man at the gathering, stood. He raised his gnarled hands and gestured for the two fathers and the others to retake their seats. Adam sat first and then, grudgingly, Noah’s father.

Sunny could do nothing but stare at the floor, frozen in shock as Noah’s impossible words rang in her head.

* * *

Noah inhaled, trying to remember to breathe. Though this was the reaction he’d expected, his emotions raced like a runaway train.

Solomon moved to the aisle and faced Noah. “I understand why thee is in a hurry to get thy crop in, yet taking a wife is an important decision. It cannot be made lightly, hurriedly.” The man’s calm voice seemed to lower the tension in the room.

“This isn’t a hasty decision,” Noah said, finding he was having trouble getting his words out.

“When did thee court Sunny?” Solomon asked politely.

Sunny tilted her head, as if asking the same question.

Noah looked down. Everyone here knew that the woman he’d courted over a decade ago—and who had rejected him when he went off to war—sat in this very room, now the wife of another man. And how could he explain how Sunny had attracted him from the first time he’d seen her here at Christmas last year? She’d drawn him because he sensed another soul that had lived far beyond this safe haven.

The war had never penetrated the peace here. An image of soldiers, both blue and gray, lying in their own blood flashed in his mind. The gorge in his throat rose. He made himself focus on here. On now. On her.

“I haven’t approached Sunny,” Noah continued, keeping his voice steady. “In her circumstances...” His voice faded. Then he looked Sunny straight in the eye. She still looked stunned. He hoped she wasn’t going to resent this public declaration. After meeting her in town upon arriving home, he’d thought this over carefully. He’d decided the best way to spike scurrilous, misguided gossip was to propose publicly.

He cleared his throat and chose his words with care. “I didn’t want her to take my interest wrongly.” That much was true. He’d first seen the way she was treated in town long before he’d left for Wisconsin. “But I think she’ll make me a good wife. And I’ll try to make her a good husband.”

Noah turned his gaze to Solomon Love, wanting to give all his reasons. “I could have just gone to Adam Gabriel’s house later to ask, then taken her to the justice of the peace.” Noah paused and bent his head toward her as if acknowledging he would have needed her agreement. “But I didn’t want to do it like that. I didn’t want to do this the world’s way, or away from the meeting.”

“Like last time? When thee ran away and enlisted?” his father retorted, obviously unable to keep his ire undercover—even here.

Noah stood his ground with a lift of his chin. His father wasn’t going to ruin Noah’s plans. Or hurt Sunny’s feelings.

Solomon cleared his throat. “Marrying should be about thee and the woman thee wishes to marry. ‘Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife,’” Solomon said in a tone that effectively capped a lid on any further public cleaning of the Whitmore family closet.

Boaz glared at Noah still, but shut his mouth tightly.

Noah didn’t relax. He glanced at Sunny. She still looked frozen. He hoped he hadn’t done this all wrong. Concern tightened into a ball in his midsection.

Solomon’s wife, Eve, a little silver-haired sparrow of a woman, rose and leaned on her cane. “I think we should all pray about this now. And, Solomon, we are old and forget the passion of youth. There is no reason to prevent Sunny and Noah from marrying today and leaving for Wisconsin tomorrow with the blessing of this meeting. As long as this is what the two wish. And if they have sought God’s will and have become clear, we should not try to prevent this marriage. Which I believe,” Eve said, her quavering voice firming, “would be of benefit to both.”

“Good counsel, wife, as usual.” Solomon beamed at her. “Noah, will thee sit and let us pray for thee and Sunny that thee both have clearness about this?”

“I will.” Noah sat, suddenly very weary. He glanced at his father, who still managed to bristle though he neither moved nor spoke.

Every head bowed, so Noah lowered his and waited... He hadn’t kept track of how much time had passed until he heard Sunny’s baby stirring and whimpering. Then he realized that the service had gone on much longer than usual. Others were also becoming restless. Noah tried to sit as if he were at peace, but his nerves jittered. Homesteading he’d seen proved hard enough for a man with a wife. He needed Sunny even though he hadn’t thought of marriage after the war. He was offering her a fair deal. He needed a wife and she needed the protection a husband could provide. If Sunny refused him, he’d be forced to go alone.

Solomon stood again, his joints creaking. “We are past our time. Noah Whitmore and Sunny, if it meets with thy approval, my wife and I will meet with thee here at two this afternoon to seek clearness about this.”

Noah rose. “I’m willing and I thank thee.”

All eyes turned to Sunny. She flushed scarlet.

Constance touched Sunny’s arm. “Is thee willing to meet for clearness?”

Sunny nodded, her eyes downcast.

Constance stood. “Our foster daughter is willing.”

Noah nodded his thanks.

Then, as if released from a spell, the congregation broke up. They would head home to eat a cold dinner with no doubt a heated discussion of Noah Whitmore proposing to the latest soiled dove the Gabriels had taken in. Noah wished he could change that, but he’d discovered that human nature could rarely be denied.

Outside the meetinghouse Noah approached Sunny, his broad-brimmed Quaker hat in hand. “I know my proposal shocked thee. If thee is not interested in marrying me, just say so.”

She looked up at him and then glanced around pointedly, obviously letting him know that too many people hovered nearby. “I am unsure. I will come at two.”

He bowed his head and backed away. “At two.” Just then the woman he’d loved walked past him. She nodded and gave him an unreadable look. He felt nothing for her now. She didn’t understand him. She hadn’t understood why he’d gone to war. And he certainly was no longer the man she’d contemplated marrying ten years ago.

He turned his gaze to Sunny. She was so pretty and so quiet. He didn’t know what had caused her to become a prostitute, but she wanted to change, wanted a new start, just like he did. They were well suited in that regard.

Solomon’s Bible quote repeated in Noah’s mind. Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh. Declaring his proposal had sharpened his need for Sunny to go with him.

He could only hope that she would seize her chance to start anew. And in the process, possibly save him—from himself.

* * *

Sunny paused on the step. She’d never entered the meetinghouse by herself. April sunshine had been tempered by the cool breeze from the west. She pulled her shawl tighter.

Dawn had lain down for her long afternoon nap so Sunny had come with empty arms here—to make a decision that would change both their lives forever. Should she accept Noah’s proposal? The thought of marrying chilled her, robbing her of breath.

She couldn’t think why he would want to marry her. Why any man would want to marry her.

She opened the double door and stepped inside. There in the middle of the Quaker meetinghouse on two benches facing each other sat Eve and Solomon Love, and Noah Whitmore, the man who had said in front of everybody that he thought she would make a good wife.

Fresh shock tingled through her. His thrilling words slid from her mind into her heart and left her quaking. What do I know about being a wife?

Sunny tried to conceal her trembling, the trembling that had begun this morning. She walked as calmly as she could manage toward the bench where Noah sat. Without looking directly at him, she lowered herself onto the same bench as he.

Sitting so near him stirred her—and that alarmed her. She had never felt attraction to any man. Was Noah’s recent kindness to her the cause? She faced the Loves, who had been good enough to speak to her since she’d come here. Very few of the Quakers—or Friends, as they called themselves—had made the effort to get to know her. They’d been kind but distant. She couldn’t blame them for avoiding her. They were holy, she was stained.

Eve smiled at her and, reaching across the divide, patted her hand. “Sunny, thee does not know about the clearness meeting. It is how Friends try to clear their thinking and make sure that they are within God’s will.”

Unsure of what she should say, Sunny merely nodded. She concealed her left hand in the folds of her gray skirt. In the hours since this morning she’d chafed the flesh beneath one thumb from fretting, a childhood habit. She’d been forbidden to suck her thumb or chew her nails, so when upset, she’d taken to scratching, worrying at her hand. She resisted the need to do it now.

“Noah,” Solomon asked, “please tell us again what thy plans are and why they include Sunny.”

“I have staked a claim on a homestead in western Wisconsin. Very near the Mississippi River.” Noah’s words were clipped. “Planting time is near. I need to return as soon as possible.”

Sunny’s emotions erupted—fear, worry and hope roiled inside her at Noah’s words.

“That sounds as if thee is committed to leaving us for good.” Solomon’s voice was measured and without judgment.

Noah nodded.

“Why have thee chosen to ask Sunny to be thy bride and go with thee?” Eve asked.

Sunny nearly stopped breathing. Her throat muscles clenched with fear.

Noah propped his elbows on his knees and leaned forward as if thinking.

Many questions tumbled through her thoughts, but she could not make her mouth move. Was Noah asking out of pity? Was she in a position to say no to him even if it was? The memory of the man who had inappropriately touched her several days ago slithered through her again, as if he were here leering at her. Dear God, no more.

In spite of her inner upheaval, Sunny made herself sit very still as silence pressed in on all of them. She drew in a normal breath. Yes, she could refuse this proposal, but she had Dawn to think of. Would life with Noah be better for Dawn than life alone with her mother? Would he be a loving stepfather for Dawn?

“Noah?” Eve prompted.

“How does a man choose a wife?” Noah asked in return. “I need a wife and want one. I only know that Sunny has attracted my attention from the first time she came to meetings. I’ve watched her with her little girl. She seems sweet and kind.”

It seemed to be a day for Sunny to be stunned. No one—no one—had ever praised her like this. A melting sensation went through her and she wished that the backless bench would give her more support. She tightened her posture.

“That is a very clear reply,” Solomon said.

“Sunny, is thee ready to take a husband?” Eve asked.

Sunny swallowed, thinking of how he’d praised her. “I am.” She paused, then honesty forced her to bring up the topic she did not want to discuss. “I have a past.”

Noah gave a swift, stark laugh. “I have a past, too.”

“It is good to be honest with one another,” Solomon said, tempering the emotions with a glance.

“I have a daughter,” Sunny said, each word costing her. She pleated her plain gray cotton skirt.

“I know, and I’m willing to take responsibility for her,” Noah said, glancing toward her.

Sunny measured his tone. He sounded sincere. Nonetheless she had overheard a few words about his own family. And she must speak for her child. “Your father has been known to show temper.”