Chapter Three

A my Brown stood at the threshold of the foundling home, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her gaze swept over the sea of young, upturned faces that had become like family to her. A bright-eyed little girl tugged at the hem of Amy's skirt, her small fingers clinging with reluctance.

"Will you come back for us, Amy?" the child asked.

"If I can, Lily," Amy assured her, bending down to envelop the girl in a warm embrace. "I'll write letters, and one day, when I have a home as big as my dreams, there'll be a room waiting for each of you." She kissed the top of Lily's head, then stood to face the rest of the children, her eyes glistening but her smile unwavering.

"Remember what I always say," she said. "‘No matter where we go, we carry a piece of each other's hearts.' So, be good to Mrs. Jackson, okay?"

"Okay, Amy!" they chimed in unison.

With a final wave, Amy turned away, hefting her modest carpetbag over her shoulder. The morning sun cast a golden hue across the Massachusetts landscape, heralding the dawn of her new adventure.

As she approached the wagon where eight other women awaited, a sense of camaraderie washed over her. These were her sisters in all but blood, each having grown under the same roof of the foundling home. Their faces mirrored Amy's own emotions: excitement and uncertainty. It was so strange to feel both at the same time.

"Ready to make our mark, ladies?" Amy called out.

"Ready as we'll ever be!" Brenda replied, her hands gripping the wooden edge of the wagon.

"Imagine, Fort Worth!" Faith said, her words carrying the thrill of possibility.

"Think of all the baking I can do there," Amy mused aloud, already picturing the kitchen she would one day call her own. "Cakes, pies, bread...enough to feed a dozen kids, at least."

Laughter bubbled among them, an easy sound that mingled with the creak of the wagon wheels as they rolled forward.

"No kids for me," Cassandra said. "I've had enough of kids in the foundling home and then teaching." She shuddered. "If I never have to touch another child, it will be too soon."

"Speak for yourself," Amy shot back playfully. "I'm after a family, not just a husband."

"Those sound like the same thing to me," Faith said.

As the foundling home shrank behind them, Amy's thoughts drifted to the future—a future ripe with the promise of love and a home brimming with laughter.

LESS THAN A WEEK LATER , the girls arrived in Fort Worth. The train ride, which had been so exciting at first, had turned into sheer monotony. Amy had spent her time making herself two aprons that covered the entire front of her dress. "I can't wait to make my husband breakfast," she said softly to Brenda.

"I'm more enthusiastic about the marital bed than I am about cooking," Brenda said. "I'm really excited to see how it feels when he..." She shook her head. "Sorry, sometimes my words get away from me."

Amy laughed softly. She and Brenda had discussed the same topic more times than she could count. Just not within earshot of Mrs. Jackson, who they all thought of as a mother. "Only two more stops and we're there. We have to go through Dallas, and then it's Fort Worth! Elizabeth said her sister Susan will be waiting at the train station with their biggest wagon, and their other sister Alice will be there with a wagon as well."

"Have you heard when the party will be?" Brenda asked.

Amy shook her head. "Even if I had, I couldn't tell you," she said. "You can't keep a secret to save your life."

"So it's a secret?" Brenda asked.

"Not that I know of."

Brenda sighed. "Sometimes I just want to slap you, and then I remember how much I love you, and I don't."

"I appreciate that you control yourself," Amy said, and the two dissolved into giggles. Brenda was closest in age to Amy, and they felt like they were real sisters, both of them twenty-two and the first of the children who had arrived at the home after Mrs. Jackson took over. Mrs. Jackson had named the girls according to the alphabet. The nine of them were: Amy, Brenda, Cassandra, Deborah, Erna, Faith, Gail, Hannah, and Imogene.

Some of the children came to the home with their names. Some had to be named. The ones who didn't already have a name were given the last name Brown.

At the train station in Fort Worth, there were two women waiting, but they looked more like mother and daughter than sisters. What was the age difference in Elizabeth's family?

Brenda and Amy both ended up in Alice's wagon, so Brenda asked. "Are you sure Susan is your sister and not your mother?"

Amy looked at her friend, hissing, "That's rude!"

Alice simply laughed. "Susan is the oldest and there are sixteen of us. I'm much younger, and she's actually my step-mother-in-law as well as my sister."

"What's a step-mother-in-law?" Amy asked. She'd never heard anyone use that phrase.

Alice grinned. "Susan moved west because she was tired of being the oldest of twelve children who were all unruly and acted crazy. In town, they called us the Demon Horde."

Brenda gasped. "You guys are legendary!"

"We really are. Do you believe only the youngest is unmarried now?" Alice shook her head. "I digress. Susan agreed to come west as a mail-order bride to marry Jesse Dailey. When she arrived, Jesse had been killed, and his brother David greeted her at the train station. David asked her to marry him. He had four boys already, and she insisted on meeting all of them before she'd agree, because let's face it, we were difficult to be around."

"I'll say!" Brenda said, awe in her voice.

"Anyway, David bribed his older boys to behave all through the meal. She agreed to marry him. It wasn't until the wedding was over that the boys were fighting in the streets and rolling in mud."

Amy sighed. "That was so unfair to her!"

"It was." Alice shook her head. "They were already married, so she stayed with him. I married David's oldest son, Albert, who is my step-nephew, but I'd never even met him, so it wasn't a problem."

"Is Susan happy now?" Amy asked.

"Oh, she has been for ages. She and David are a true love match. And so are Albert and I. But that makes her my sister and my mother-in-law. Strange, isn't it?"

"Very," Brenda agreed as Alice pulled up in front of a beautiful home. "Is this yours?"

Alice laughed. "No, I live in a little cabin on the ranch's land. This is Susan and David's house."

"It's beautiful," Amy said, admiring it.

"It is. I love it."

Alice jumped down from the wagon, and the girls in it followed suit.

Brenda put her hand on Alice's arm. "The party? Do you know when it is?"

Alice grinned. "Tomorrow night at seven. At the church."

"So if any of us marry there, it'll be a church wedding?" Hannah asked, sounding disappointed.

"I guess so," Alice replied.

ELIZABETH TANDY HAD outdone herself, Amy thought, as she took in the tastefully decorated space, festooned with ribbons and fresh flowers. The wooden floor gleamed underfoot, polished to a shine, ready for tentative steps and hopeful hearts.

They'd had supper with Susan and her family at five, and they were there for the night, as far as Amy could tell. She was excited though. Her first real dance.

Oh, she'd learned to dance in the orphanage. Mrs. Jackson had tried to make sure they had all the skills children with two parents had, and she'd danced with her "brothers" many times. But this would be real. She could dance with a man she just might marry.

"Quite something, isn't it?" Amy whispered to Brenda, her eyes wide with a blend of awe and nerves.

"Never seen anything like it," came the hushed reply, just as awestruck.

Amy's gaze flitted across the room, her fingers playing with the fabric of her dress—a subtle shade of blue that brought out the warmth in her cheeks. Men of Fort Worth mingled about, their postures ranging from confident struts to shy shuffles.

"Remember, breathe," Erna reminded her gently.

Amy let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and managed a grateful smile.

Then, amid the sea of faces, a particular figure caught her attention. He stood somewhat apart from the others. His hair was neatly combed, and he wore a black suit with a white shirt. He sipped his drink slowly, observing the crowd through guarded eyes that seemed to hold a reservoir of unspoken sorrow.

"Who's that?" Amy asked, nodding subtly toward the somber cowboy.

"Timothy Stockwell. Lost his wife last year," Elizabeth's voice carried softly from behind her. "Loves his children, but the poor man's lost with how to raise them."

Amy watched as Timothy offered a polite nod while maintaining a distance that discouraged any prolonged interaction. It was clear he was not at ease at the social event.

"Is he a rancher?" Amy asked. At Elizabeth's nod, she smiled. "Looks like he could use some cheering up," Amy murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

"Or a good pie," joked Imogene eliciting a round of chuckles from the group.

"Maybe both," Amy replied, the corner of her mouth quirking up.

"Go on then," urged another of the women with a gentle nudge. "See if your baking talk warms him up."

With a deep inhale of resolve, Amy smoothed down her dress and prepared to step into the unknown, her heart skipping to the rhythm of new beginnings.

Amy took a tentative step toward Timothy, the distant look in his eyes suggesting he was a world away from the bustle of Elizabeth Tandy's social. "Mr. Stockwell?" Her voice wavered slightly but found strength as he turned to her.

"Miss...?" He left the question hanging.

"Amy Brown," she replied, feeling the weight of the moment settle upon her shoulders. "From the foundling home in Massachusetts."

"Ah, one of Susan's sisters' ladies," Timothy nodded, a polite acknowledgment rather than genuine interest, yet something flickered behind his eyes—a spark of curiosity, perhaps.

"Yes," Amy said, searching for common ground. "I hear you have a ranch. Must be lovely, working with the land and animals."

"Nothing like it," he admitted, a sliver of warmth breaking through the clouds of his demeanor. "But it's a demanding life, not for the faint of heart."

"I've never been afraid of hard work," Amy said. "And I...I adore children."

"Is that so?" The corners of Timothy's mouth twitched upward, the first hint of a smile. "Kids are a handful, especially when they're your own." He paused, looking her over as if seeing her for the first time. "You think you're up for such a challenge?"

"More than you know," Amy answered, her spirit rising to the surface. "I've always dreamed of a big family."

The air between them became charged, laced with possibilities. They were strangers, yet in that brief exchange, there was an unspoken understanding.

"Big families mean big meals," Timothy said after a moment, his tone lightened by the prospect. "They tell me you can cook."

"Only if you consider baking pies an essential skill," she teased back, her nervousness giving way to a budding connection.

"Essential? In Texas, Miss Brown, pie is practically currency."

As laughter escaped her lips, Amy felt the fluttering in her chest evolve into a warm glow. Here was a man who could appreciate her love for the simple things—family, food, and the comfort of home.

But as the laughter faded, doubts crept in, wrapping cold fingers around her heart. Marrying a man she had just met was madness, wasn't it? Yet as she looked into Timothy's eyes, filled with a mixture of hope and sorrow, she couldn't help but wonder if this was the leap of faith she was meant to take.

"Family's everything to me," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared."

"Scared?" Timothy repeated, his brow furrowing in empathy. "Of what?"

"Of making a mistake. Of choosing a life that might not be..." She trailed off, unsure how to voice the fear of the unknown.

"Right," he finished for her, nodding slowly. "It's a gamble for both of us."

"Yet here we are," Amy said, meeting his gaze squarely, "considering rolling the dice."

"Seems so," Timothy agreed, the ghost of a smile returning. "Life's full of gambles."

Amy's mind raced with the enormity of the decision before her. Could she really marry this man and build a life with him out of nothing but hope and a few shared words? The very thought sent a thrill of excitement mixed with trepidation coursing through her.

"Maybe," she ventured, her voice steady despite the turmoil within, "it's about finding someone just as willing to take that risk with you."

"Maybe," Tim repeated, and in that simple word, Amy heard the echo of her own longing—a desire for companionship, for love, and the chance to create the family she had always yearned for.

TIMOTHY'S HAND INSTINCTIVELY found the brim of his hat, fingers fumbling with the rough fabric—a habit when thoughts clouded his mind. He watched Amy mingle with others, her laughter a melody that seemed both hopeful and haunting.

"Mind if I steal you away for a moment?" His voice was steady as he approached her, but inside, Tim wrestled with doubt. The fresh memory of love lost gnawed at his resolve.

"Of course," Amy replied.

They stepped out onto the porch, the night air crisp, the sky a blanket of stars. Alone now, Timothy hesitated, the weight of his decision pressing down like the Texas heat.

"Beautiful night," Amy ventured, breaking the silence between them.

"Reminds me of..." Tim began, then trailed off.

"Of what?" she prompted gently, sensing the shift in his demeanor.

"Of a time before." The words came out as a whisper. "Before my world turned upside down."

Amy's eyes softened, reflecting the moonlight. "Loss changes us," she murmured. "It leaves spaces that never quite fill the same way again."

"Exactly." Timothy felt the knot in his chest loosen slightly. "I worry about making promises when I'm still picking up pieces."

"Maybe," Amy said, "we're not meant to pick them up alone."

Her words hung between them, an invitation and a solace. In that shared quiet, Timothy felt the barriers he'd built crumble piece by piece.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Amy leaned closer.

"Anything," he assured her, drawn to the honesty in her eyes.

"I'm terrified." A half-smile played on her lips. "Terrified of choosing wrong, of taking a step that can't be undone."

"Seems we're two sides of the same coin, then." Timothy's chuckle was soft, mingling with hers.

"Perhaps we are," she agreed. "But sometimes...I think maybe it's less about the steps we take and more about who's walking beside us."

"Maybe you're right. Perhaps together, we could find a rhythm that works—one step at a time."

"Wouldn't that be something?"

"It would." Timothy extended his hand, palm open and waiting. "Shall we start with this dance?"

Amy placed her hand in his.

AMY'S LAUGHTER FADED into the soft evening air as Elizabeth Tandy approached with a gentle smile. The blonde-haired matchmaker placed a reassuring hand upon Amy's shoulder.

"Dear, I see more than just shared glances and quiet confessions between you two," Elizabeth said, her green eyes twinkling. "There is potential for something truly beautiful."

Tim fidgeted with the brim of his hat, an artifact of nervousness that he couldn't quite shake. "I think there's a heap of uncertainty in all this, Mrs. Tandy," he admitted.

"Life's full of uncertainties, Mr. Stockwell. It's the courage to face them that makes love worthwhile." Elizabeth's voice carried the wisdom of someone who had fostered countless unions. "Sometimes, taking a chance on love is the very thing that gives us strength."

Amy glanced at Tim, finding strength in Elizabeth's words. "She's right, Tim," she said softly. "We might just be better together than we are apart."

He met her gaze, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. "Could be. But it's a mighty big decision, marrying someone you've only just met."

"True," she conceded. "But I'd rather take a leap of faith with someone who understands the value of family, who yearns for it, just like I do."

"Family..." Timothy repeated. "I'd like that too."

"Then why not build one together?" There was a hopeful audacity in Amy's proposition.

"Build it together, huh?" His eyes searched hers.

"Elizabeth," Amy started, "we've decided. We're going to marry."

"Marvelous!" Elizabeth clasped her hands together. "You've both got caring hearts and strong spirits. You'll be happy together."

"Thank you, ma'am. For believing in us," Timothy said.

"Belief is easy when you see what I see," Elizabeth replied. "Now go on, make a life that's as sweet as one of Amy's pies."

With that, Tim extended his arm to Amy. "Well, partner, shall we start planning for our dozen or so little ones?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Amy laughed, linking her arm with his. "One step at a time."

"Fair enough," Timothy chuckled. "One step at a time."

Amy clasped her hands together, a gesture that mirrored the flutter of excitement in her chest. As she stood under the wide-open Texas sky beside Timothy, she could almost touch the dreams that danced before her eyes—a cozy home filled with the warmth of a family she'd call her own.

"Imagine it, Tim," she said. "A little house, maybe one with a porch where we can watch the sunset."

"Sounds perfect," Timothy replied, his smile reaching his eyes. "My children will be awful happy to have a homecooked meal that I didn't cook. "

Her heart skipped at the thought. "I look forward to getting to know them." Amy's laughter mingled with the soft evening breeze, light and carefree.

"Children with your kindness," Timothy added softly, his gaze holding hers. "I hope you know how to teach that kindness."

"Tim..." She reached out, her hand finding his, their fingers intertwining naturally. "I can hardly believe this is happening. That we're doing this—together."

"Me neither, Amy." He squeezed her hand gently. "But I'm grateful. Grateful for you, for this chance at a new start."

"Me too." She leaned closer, her head resting against his shoulder. "We've got a whole life ahead of us, Tim. It's like we're standing on the edge of a brand-new day."

"Then let's step into it," he whispered.

"Absolutely," she agreed, her heart brimming with hope for every tomorrow they would share.

"MRS. JACKSON?" AMY called out when she spotted the older woman.

The matron turned from where she had been talking to some of the other girls. "Yes, my dear?" Mrs. Jackson asked.

"I've made my decision," Amy said.

Mrs. Jackson's face softened into a knowing smile. "You're going to marry him, aren't you?"

Amy nodded, a blush coloring her cheeks. "Yes, I am. Tim is...he's good, and kind. And I think we could make each other happy."

"Then that's all that matters." Mrs. Jackson enveloped Amy in a warm embrace. "Tim will be a lucky man to have you by his side."

"Thank you," Amy whispered, holding back the tears that threatened to spill over. "For everything."

"Promise me one thing," Mrs. Jackson said as they parted. "Make sure he takes care of my baby girl."

"I will, Mrs. Jackson. I promise."

Timothy stood beside Amy, his hat held nervously in his hands. He looked from Amy to Mrs. Jackson, a question in his eyes.

"Tim," Mrs. Jackson addressed him. "Take care of her. She's precious to us all."

Tim's gaze met Amy's, and she saw the solemn vow there before he spoke. "I will, ma'am. I'll do my very best."

"Good." A satisfied nod from Mrs. Jackson, and then she shooed them both toward the front of the church. "Now off you go. Pastor Amos is waiting to make an honest couple out of you."

Pastor Amos Kauffman greeted them with a gentle smile, his eyes reflecting the sanctity of the moment. Amy had met the pastor earlier that evening, but she didn't feel the same things she felt when she looked at Tim.

"Are you ready to take this step together?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, we are," they answered in unison, their voices intermingling like threads in a finely woven quilt.

"Then let's begin." Amos opened his well-worn Bible and began the ceremony that would bind Amy and Timothy in marriage.

"Timothy, do you take Amy to be your lawfully wedded wife, to cherish in love and companionship?"

"I do," Tim replied, his voice resolute.

"And Amy, do you take Timothy to be your lawfully wedded husband, to cherish in love and companionship?"

"I do," she repeated, her heart soaring.

"By the power vested in me," Amos continued, "I now pronounce you husband and wife."

As Amos closed the Bible, the simplicity of the ceremony felt perfect. The vows spoken were not just words; they were the seeds of a future they would cultivate together.

"May I kiss the bride?" Tim asked, a hopeful twinkle in his eye.

"Of course," Amy laughed, light and free.

The kiss made Amy feel things she'd heard Brenda whispering about, though how Brenda knew things like that, she didn't know. For now, she was happy. She had met the man she'd have a family with.