Chapter 6

6

Genevieve was already in love with the mountains and the secluded ranch. And Boone was adorable.

She just wasn't quite sure what to think of Ryder.

Drawing in a breath of the thin, clean air, she let herself take in the scenery again, as she had dozens of times since arriving. From where she stood in the cabin door, she had a perfect view of the grassy fields that spread out to the eastern mountains. Had Ryder purposefully placed the cabin here so that he could admire the landscape every time he stepped out?

At a soft babble of baby noises, she turned back into the cabin and crossed to the cradle where she'd laid Boone for a nap shortly after he'd taken his bottle. So far during the hours that Ryder had been away, the baby had slept most of the time.

She'd taken advantage of the quiet to familiarize herself with the cabin and what supplies were available and had been surprised to find the sideboard well stocked with food, dishes, pots and pans, and cooking utensils. Although she'd never even stepped foot into the kitchens in her various homes, she'd learned a few basics in the kitchen at the orphanage, mainly about preparing bottles for the infants but also how to make hot cereal, soup, and stew.

During her exploration of the garden at the side of the cabin, she'd gathered enough vegetables—onions, carrots, green beans, a few potatoes, and herbs—and had made a simple soup, enjoying every moment of the freedom to create the meal.

Now that she'd had a taste of the independence she'd so desperately craved, she wasn't sure how she'd survived without it. Not only had she been able to wander around the cabin and garden and do whatever she pleased, but she'd had no one watching her every move, no one dictating what she needed to do next, no one criticizing how she looked or walked or held herself.

Even though she was weary from the past days of traveling, she felt invigorated and alive in a way she hadn't in a long time, probably since before her papa died. And she was also relieved that the situation had worked out the way it had. It truly appeared as though she'd found the perfect place to hide away from Lenora's reach for the next year. By the time she was near her twenty-first birthday, she'd probably be ready to return to civilization and the comforts of life.

But for now... she would relish the experience of living in this rugged land.

As she stooped to pick Boone up, he peered at her with the same brown eyes as his father. Except that Ryder's eyes were much more complicated and filled with sadness and worry and too many other emotions to name.

"How are you, little one?" She caressed Boone's soft cheek.

His eyes widened upon her as they had when he'd first met her, as though he hadn't quite expected to see her again.

"You'll get used to me." The moment she spoke the words, guilt pricked her conscience. The baby would likely grow attached to her over the coming months and assume she was his mother. How would he react when she left? Would it be difficult for him?

Of course, she still planned to hire a caregiver to take her place. But she hadn't considered how her leaving would impact Boone.

"Oh dear," she whispered as she let him grasp one of her fingers tightly in his fist. "I don't want to hurt anyone, especially you."

Maybe she'd have to reconsider her plans. Or maybe she needed to be careful about getting too close to Boone. She would have to continually remind herself that she was only a temporary caretaker, as she had been with the orphan babies.

"Come here, little one." She hefted him into her arms, and he came willingly, grabbing a fistful of her hair that had come loose after she'd taken off her hat. Without anyone telling her to fix it, she hadn't bothered with pulling it back up into a chignon.

She rather liked leaving it down and messy, something she hadn't been able to do in years. The waves of her hair nearly reached her waist and were soft and glossy, even after the past week without the maid's nightly ritual of brushing one hundred strokes.

She pressed a kiss against Boone's forehead and took a deep breath of his sweet baby scent—a mixture of baby powder and formula. "We shall get along just grand."

Boone babbled something nonsensical in response.

She laughed. "You agree, do you?"

When was the last time she'd laughed? She couldn't remember.

Boone's eyes widened again, almost as if laughter were a sound he wasn't familiar with either.

She laughed again.

A tentative smile worked its way up his lips.

It felt good to laugh for no reason other than she could. She twirled in a circle, and as she did so, Boone's smile widened.

"So, you like dancing?" She hummed a waltz and then started the steps she'd memorized long ago. As she did so, Boone continued to smile, and the sight of it was better than the mountain view outside the door.

At a sound from the door, she came to a sudden halt and spun to find Ryder filling the doorway. He stood motionless, his gaze riveted to her and Boone. He was disheveled and perspiring and breathing hard, as though he'd run the distance back to the ranch rather than riding his horse. His brows were furrowed, and his eyes were anxious.

Had he been worried about what he'd find upon his return?

She supposed it was only natural that he would be concerned about leaving his child with a stranger. "Boone's a good dancer already." She offered Ryder a smile now too.

Although his shoulders seemed to relax and his breathing evened out, his expression didn't contain anything even close to a smile. "Everything went okay, then?"

At the sound of Ryder's voice, Boone craned his head to see his father, his smile still bright and happy.

"Everything went perfectly." She held the baby out so that Ryder could see for himself that Boone was content and safe.

Ryder stepped inside and took the little fellow into his arms, brushing a kiss on top of the boy's head.

She liked that Ryder wasn't standoffish and showed affection to his son. Her own papa, though he'd been busy and important, had always made time for her and had never failed to shower her with affection.

"Did you find the reverend?" she asked as she made her way to the stove.

"He'll be here in a few minutes. I rode ahead."

She lifted the lid on the pot and let the aroma of the cooking vegetables fill her senses. It might not be a gourmet meal by one of the best chefs in the country, but she had the feeling it would be one of the best meals she'd ever tasted because she'd been able to make it.

She could feel Ryder watching her. "I hope you don't mind that I started supper."

"That's fine." His voice held a note of hesitation.

With a wooden spoon in hand, she glanced at him to find that his brows were still furrowed.

Had she overstepped herself by taking too much liberty? She didn't want to upset him, didn't want him to regret her being there. "I apologize. I should have asked you first before doing so."

"No, it's okay. You're free to do whatever you'd like."

She was free . A small unladylike part of her wanted to jump up and shout for joy at the sound of that word. But she reined in her enthusiasm and spoke calmly instead. "Thank you—"

"It's just that I don't want you to feel too burdened, like you have to do everything or anything." He situated Boone in his big arms, and the baby looked tiny in comparison.

"I do not feel burdened. I enjoyed making the soup."

"You did?"

Before she could reassure him again, a man slight of stature stepped into the doorway. From the clerical collar as well as prayer book he held, it was easy to see he was the reverend. Ryder introduced him as Reverend Livingston, and for several moments they made small talk about her journey, the beauty of Colorado, and the busyness of the harvesting season.

Ryder held Boone through the conversation with more proficiency than she'd ever witnessed from a man. Although Ryder wasn't talkative, he exuded a powerful presence nonetheless—one that wasn't domineering or intimidating but promised safety and security for those he cared about. In addition, she'd easily discerned that he was hardworking, tidy, and organized. She couldn't think of many men who could have managed all the responsibilities of both the ranch and a baby.

"Well, are you ready to begin?" the reverend asked.

Ryder shifted his attention from Boone to her. Only then did she realize she'd been staring at him again and that the reverend was watching her and had addressed the question to her.

Surely the reverend could understand she was simply trying to get to know Ryder a little bit more before pledging her life to him.

"I'm ready." She smoothed down her bodice and skirt, the cotton material still unfamiliar to her touch compared to the silks and velvets and brocades she normally wore. She was as ready as she'd ever be for the strange circumstances in which she found herself. Never when she was a girl and imagining her wedding day would she have pictured herself marrying a stranger in a rustic cabin in the high country of Colorado.

When she questioned the need for witnesses, the reverend explained that in Colorado, the marriage was legal without witnesses—that in fact, his own presence wasn't entirely necessary either but would help solemnize the occasion.

The reverend opened the prayer book and read a prayer, then several Scriptures. She had a difficult time concentrating on the words and instead was thinking about her papa and what he would say if he could see her now. Would he be disappointed that she'd run away? Or would he understand she'd felt she had no other choice?

He'd always wanted the best for her, had always given her everything, had never denied her anything. He'd risked spoiling her as his only child. And he very well could have except that he'd loved her so immensely and thoroughly that she couldn't keep from adoring him in return and wanting to please him.

When he'd met Lenora, a widowed New York socialite from an upstanding family, Genevieve hadn't necessarily liked the idea of letting someone else into their family. After all, she and Papa had gotten along just fine for fifteen years, and they hadn't needed anyone else.

But of course, she'd loved her papa so dearly that she'd wanted him to get married if that would make him happy. At the time, she'd believed he was starting to prepare for the day when his only daughter would get married and he would be alone. But in hindsight, she realized he'd known he was sick with cancer, and he'd been preparing for her future instead. He'd thought that by marrying Lenora, he would be leaving her with a mother who could guide her and help her through the years until she had a husband.

He'd died only a year after the wedding to Lenora. For months, even the first couple of years after his passing, Genevieve hadn't been able to function amidst her consuming grief, and she'd felt as though she were living in a bad dream.

She could give her stepmother credit for keeping her from sinking too far into her melancholy. Lenora had stepped in and taken charge of everything—visitors, finances, the servants, the social calendar, the houses, the business managers, and even speaking with the lawyers.

Genevieve had been grateful to give all control to Lenora—at least, at first. But as time had elapsed, her grief had diminished, and she'd eventually been ready to regain her life.

She'd tried to prove she was strong, but the damage had already been done. Lenora saw her as a weak and frail woman and couldn't be persuaded to change her view. It didn't matter that Genevieve had finally been able to accept her papa's death. It didn't matter that she'd grown up and matured. It didn't matter that she was ready to shoulder more responsibility. As Genevieve tried to pull away, Lenora only tightened her hold.

Of course, Lenora was trying to be a good stepmother and guardian. Genevieve had tried to understand that. With the stipulations of Papa's will, Lenora was required to take care of Genevieve if she wanted to claim her portion of the inheritance on Genevieve's twenty-first birthday. But the trouble was that Lenora was taking her duties much too seriously.

Hopefully, if her papa were watching from heaven, he'd understand that Lenora's grip had been strangling the life from Genevieve and that running away had been her only option.

"Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in health? And forsaking all others, keep thee only to her, so long as you both shall live?"

"I will." Ryder didn't hesitate. His declaration was firm and filled with determination.

The reverend shifted to her and began the same question: "Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him and serve him, love, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health? And forsaking all others, keep thee only to him, so long as you both shall live?"

She swallowed the swift protest that seemed to rise out of nowhere. How could she make this kind of vow, one that promised to love him as long as she lived? She couldn't. Not when she was planning to leave him in a year.

She blew out a stiff breath. What was she doing? She'd already lied once about her name. And if she took the vow, she'd be lying again.

"Constance?" the reverend prompted, clearly having heard about Constance Franklin enough over recent weeks that the switch in names was now an adjustment. "I mean, Genevieve?"

She quickly nodded. What choice did she have now that she was here? Everything was already set in motion, and she couldn't back out now. "I will."

She would do her best to honor her vow over the next year and do everything in it to the best of her ability... for at least a year. Surely that was good enough.

The rest of the ceremony was a blur, even the part where Ryder gave her a ring—a plain gold band without any embellishments or jewels or engravings. It was likely the simplest piece of jewelry she'd ever worn, especially compared to the rings and bracelets and necklaces she had in her chatelaine. She'd sold off another small piece in Denver to ensure she had enough to survive for a while, but she still had at least a dozen other items left.

As the reverend closed in prayer, asking God to bless the union, she held out her hand just enough to see the ring on her finger. It might be simple, but it was symbolic of her freedom. And she couldn't forget that.

Once the wedding was finished, they signed a marriage certificate. Genevieve hadn't been sure which name to sign, Constance's or hers, so in the end, she'd simply written Genevieve and left off her family name. Thankfully, the reverend hadn't said anything about it or perhaps had been too busy chatting to notice.

She invited him to stay for a bowl of soup and found canned peaches to serve with it. Although the meal was meatless, no one complained. In fact, Ryder refilled his bowl two times.

After the reverend started on his way back to Breckenridge, Ryder left the cabin to do the evening chores , as he called them. She offered to assist, but he assured her that she was helping enough by watching Boone.

She busied herself cleaning up the meal. By then Boone was fussing again with hungry grunts. She hurried to prepare him a bottle and then settled into the rocking chair beside the stove.

At the silence and the warmth and the security, she felt for the first time in days as though she could finally cease looking over her shoulder and worrying that someone would see her and catch her.

She closed her eyes and relaxed, but the moment she did so, the exhaustion of the past week caught up with her and slumber claimed her.