Well, here it is finally - the last chapter. Again, I am sincerely sorry it's taken so long between updates for me to find time to write. I haven't intended to leave any of you hanging for such a long period of time. I want to thank all my loyal readers and hope that you will all leave a final review, letting me know what you thought of the story. And now, without further ado, the final chapter. Enjoy!
Chapter 25
"Something is amiss in the Cartwright household," Ben said to his sons, settling into his large, red easy chair before the hearth with a cup of tea.
Hoss scrunched his face up into a disconcerted scowl as Little Joe double-jumped his black checker over two of his red ones. "Dadburn you, Little Joe."
Joe chuckled then turned to acknowledge his father. "What'd ya say, Pa?"
"I said something is amiss in the Cartwright household."
"How d'ya mean?"
"Well, Adam tells me Rachel hasn't seen hide nor hair of Anne Marie since the fair. In fact, she hasn't set foot on their place in over two weeks. And Hop Sing told me yesterday she hasn't been eating well either. I watched her tonight and she hardly touched her food."
Joe and Hoss considered these revelations perplexedly, exchanging puzzled glances.
"It's all news to me, Pa," Hoss said finally.
Ben nodded. "We've all been pretty preoccupied helping Matthew with the cabin."
"You don't think she knows, do ya?" Joe asked.
"I think she suspects something. She's a bright girl, Joseph."
"Good thing we're almost done, huh?" Hoss said.
"We've gotta keep it a secret until Matthew proposes," Joe reminded him.
"Well, what's he waitin' fer?"
"For goodness sake, Hoss, you don't just walk up to a girl and ask her to marry you."
"I know that, Little Joe, but he's had plenty a time."
"I'm sure Matthew is preparing a very nice proposal and it isn't our place to question with his timing," Ben said. Then a mischievous grin – an expression rarely seen on the patriarch's mouth – overtook his features as he leaned closer to his sons and added, "but I have to admit, I'm pretty anxious myself."
They smiled.
The entire family seemed to be on pins and needles now that the cabin was nearing completion. Matthew still seemed hesitant to speak with Anne Marie, but though his nerves were somewhat unsettling, the family couldn't blame him for aiming for perfection and waiting for the opportune moment. Matthew was a planner whose actions were always deliberate and never hasty. The proposal would come in time.
Anne Marie hadn't spoken with Matthew or Rachel since the day she had discovered the secret renovation of the cabin. Instead she had kept to herself, trying to keep her habits about the house as normal as possible. So far it seemed Hop Sing had been the only one to observe any change in her behavior, commenting several times on her recent loss of appetite, but she always managed to find some excuse to assuage his concerns. Her daily rides appeared routine enough to the Cartwrights, who watched her leave very morning as she always did, saddled high atop Snow Queen. However, while Anne Marie's rides usually took her by her uncle's ranch or down the road to Washoe to visit the Finneys, she now avoided these locations like the plague, occupying herself with the high country where the terrain was neither smooth nor her horse's legs as swift. She had always enjoyed the challenge of the mountains, but it wasn't a place she ventured frequently, especially on days when she desired nothing more than to feel the wind tearing through her hair and the excitement that palpitated within her heart when she galloped. Most days she brooded about the land, but occasionally she would make her way down to her mother's favorite spot. She would sit by the small pond and toss stones into the water, watching her once clear reflection instantly distorted by the ripples.
Lost in his own thoughts and preoccupied with his work, Matthew could honestly testify that he hadn't noticed a single change in Anne Marie's behavior, due to the fact that he had hardly spoken with her since his conversation with Little Joe a month ago. Rachel and Mae, however, felt her absence deeply, to the extent that Rachel finally labeled her cousin's behavior as avoidance. Her actions were all too familiar, and though Rachel didn't know what had prompted them, she concluded that it was about time Matthew popped the question.
Late one afternoon, Rachel hitched up the old sorrel that often carried her to and from the schoolhouse and set off for the Finney ranch. It was a lazy, warm August afternoon, and as she cantered along, Rachel considered the familiar path with great fondness. Although most of the grass alongside the road had browned under the heat of a much hotter summer sun, bees still hovered above the myriad patches of wildflowers scattered about here and there, buzzing merrily from bud to bud. How many times had she ridden along this same road? She couldn't recall, but the world appeared to her as bright as if it were the first day of spring rather than the onset of fall.
As she neared the house and pulled the rig up in the yard, Mae came out to greet her with a friendly hug. Rachel tied her horse to the hitching post and followed the girl inside where she immediately returned to the potatoes she had been mashing.
"Is Matthew out?" Rachel asked, reaching for the bowl of string beans on the kitchen table and starting to snap them in half in an effort to help Mae prepare dinner.
As the only woman in the family, the young girl had had to learn to keep house much faster than any average nine-year-old. Of course Anne Marie and Rachel had helped her along extensively, but her premature adulthood was a constant burden upon not only the child herself but also her father, whose conscience ached every time he sat down to a meal she had spent an entire afternoon cooking. But Mae had a cheeriness about her that wasn't easily dampened, and she loved to learn so greatly that she viewed every challenge as an opportunity to improve and hone skills she knew would continue to serve her well all her life.
Mae shook her head. "Just got back. He's in the barn puttin' away his horse."
No sooner had she said this than the young man entered, sighing heavily as he shut the door behind him, then removed his hat and wiped his brow with his forearm simultaneously. He looked utterly exhausted.
Rachel frowned in disapproval.
"Hey, Rachel," he said with a slight nod of acknowledgement, walking over to the washbasin in the corner of the room to scrub the dirt from his hands. "Dinner smells good, Mae."
He eyed his little sister over his shoulder and the siblings exchanged soft, appreciative smiles.
"Should be ready in another hour."
"Well, how are things?" Matthew turned to Rachel as he dried his hands on a small towel.
She considered the question with a furrowed brow, then said, "They're fine, at least I think they're fine."
"What d'ya mean?"
"Well, Anne Marie's been acting a little strange lately."
"Strange how?" Matthew asked, leaning against the washstand and folding his arms over his chest.
"Keeping to herself, mostly. We haven't spoken in weeks. Usually we don't go two days without seeing each other. I don't know what's bothering her and neither does Ma or Pa."
"I dunno what could be wrong," he said, taking a seat at the table.
"I didn't think you would. You haven't seen her in nearly a month, and that in and of itself would be enough to set her on edge when you used to see each other almost every day. I'm sure she's feeling confused and neglected."
Matthew contemplated the situation in silence.
Mae eyed her brother curiously, but his expression was indecipherable.
Finally, Rachel leaned over, and in a moment of uncharacteristic boldness placed her right hand on top of Matthew's left one resting on the tabletop. "You need to ask her now, Matthew."
At that very moment, the front door opened and Anne Marie appeared on the threshold. Rachel and Matthew looked up, startled, and Mae jumped where she stood over the bowl of beans. For a second, all was quiet as Anne Marie took in the scene before her: Rachel's hand resting upon Matthew's. She had obviously walked in upon a very delicate conversation, and the pain in her heart welled up with a vengeance. She could feel her heart pounding in her temples and suddenly found it difficult to catch her breath.
Matthew looked confused, watching her face contort into an expression he didn't quite understand. He had never seen her look so utterly devastated and terrified before.
Anne Marie swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that burned her eyes and pleaded desperately to be released.
"Anne Marie, what a surprise! We didn't expect to see you here today." Mae was well aware that her voice sounded far too loud and bright as she greeted their unexpected visitor, but it had suddenly become quite uncontrollable.
"No, I suppose not," she replied, casting an accusatory glance upon the couple at the table before turning to Mae. "Hop Sing wanted me to bring over his recipe for his beef mulligan. He said your father liked it so much last time he wanted to give you the recipe so you could make it on your own." She unfolded a piece of paper from a pocket in her riding skirt and handed it to the girl stiffly.
"Oh, thank you."
"Well, I'll be on my way now."
"Would ya like to stay for supper?" Mae asked.
"No, I think I've already overstayed my welcome," she replied, and with that Anne Marie turned on her heel and strode back out the door.
The significance of the moment suddenly dawned upon Rachel and she withdrew her hand from Matthew's instantly.
"Oh, no," she gasped, her hand now covering her mouth. She was mortified.
Everything made sense now. How could she have not realized what Anne Marie must have been assuming for weeks? Without the proper information, it certainly did seem plausible that Matthew's affections could have shifted, especially considering all the evidence Anne Marie had in her favor. Matthew had withdrawn from her, her family's activities had been very secretive of late, and Rachel had known from the beginning that it was only a matter of time until something tipped her cousin off that all was not as it appeared to be.
Matthew stood resolutely. "Looks like I'll be proposing today after all," he said, and with that hurried out the door and into the barn where he promptly saddled his horse and took off after Anne Marie.
Racing out of the barn, Matthew dug his heels into his horse's sides fiercely and slapped the reins hard against its back, but the woman he loved was one of the fastest riders in the territory and he knew it would take some time to catch her. He overtook her more quickly than he expected, however, and it only when he pulled up in front of her that he realized she had only slowed because she could no longer see the road, so blurred was her vision by the tears that now soaked her face.
"Let me by, Matthew," she mumbled, turning her head away from his unwavering gaze, ashamed.
He shook his head. "Not until you hear what I have to say."
"You don't have to say anything to me."
"Yes, I do. You think you saw something back there, don't you?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does." He was vehement, and the sincerity in his voice finally compelled her to turn so she could look into his eyes. "I know what you're thinking, Anne Marie. I'd probably think the same thing if I were you, but you're wrong."
"Matthew, I-"
"I love you, Anne Marie," he said suddenly.
Her eyes widened. "What?"
He nodded. "I've always loved you, from the day we met. This isn't the way I wanted to propose to you, but if I've learned anything from knowin' you as long as I have, it's that nothing ever goes according to what I plan, and I figured I'd better ask you now before somethin' else happens."
"Y-you're asking me to marry you?" She blinked, completely taken aback.
"Well, if you'll get down off that horse I can ask you proper." He dismounted then came around to the right side of her horse to help her to the ground as well, and as he lifted her up off the seat and into his arms he could feel her slender form trembling.
"M-Matthew-"
"Don't say anything," he whispered in her ear. "Just let me do this."
He bent down on one knee and took her hands in his. Her tearstained cheeks, which stood out in great contrast against Snow Queen's white flank, might have been undesirable to most, but to Matthew Finney, gazing up into Anne Marie's dark brown eyes, no other creature in all the earth could have looked lovelier. He had never in his wildest dreams imagined proposing like this, but somehow it now felt like the most appropriate way – kneeling there by the side of the road, with the sun melting against the horizon and Anne Marie's rich, auburn-tinted tresses tossed in a thousand unruly directions.
"I had a speech prepared, but I've forgotten it now," he said with a sheepish smirk.
She blushed.
"Anne Marie, now that the moment's come I realize I can't live another day without knowing you belong to me. I want you – every part of you. You are the most beautiful part of my past, and I know you will be the most beautiful part of my future, if you'll have me. I have so many plans in store for us, and I can't wait to tell you about them. I wanna settle on a piece of land with you and raise a family. I wanna care for you and protect you and love you for as long as the good Lord will let me, and I wanna do everything together, the way we always have. I never wanna be apart from you, ever."
"Oh, Matthew." The tears had started to flow once again and she turned her head away in embarrassment, but Matthew found his footing and placed his hand on her cheek, forcing her to look at him.
"Will you marry me, Anne Marie?" he asked.
"I thought you'd never ask me," she said, smiling through the tears.
"Well, I'm asking you now."
She nodded, resting her forehead against his and letting out a soft sigh of relief. It was as though a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders with the utterance of those four words.
"Yes," she whispered. "Of course I'll marry you. I love you, Matthew."
He kissed her then, soft and sweet with an affection that expressed a lifetime of adoration and ardency as he ran his fingers through her wild, tousled hair.
"I'm sorry I worried you," he said when their lips finally parted.
She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions and ruined your surprise."
"What d'ya mean?" he asked, pulling away slightly so he could see her more clearly.
Her eyes fell to her feet. "I saw the cabin."
"Is that when you stopped talking to Rachel?" he said.
She nodded.
"Well, I reckon you can start talkin' to her again. She was real worried about you, ya know? She knew something was wrong, and she was tryin' to convince me to go ahead and pop the question when you walked in." He shook his head and chuckled to himself, reflecting on the previous scene, then pecked her lips once again. "I shoulda known it'd be impossible to keep a secret from you, 'specially on your own land. I don't know why I thought you wouldn't find out about the cabin, or at least get suspicious enough to go snoopin' around."
"I'm sorry," she said, giggling just the same.
"We're almost finished with it. Another week I'd say, give or take a day."
"What then?" she asked.
He smiled and drew her waist close to his own. "Then we get married," he said.
Anne Marie stood in her room before the floor-length mirror, feeling as white and puffy as a cloud in her wedding dress. Her profile was shrouded in a filmy veil, as sheer as a hummingbird's wings. It had once belonged to her mother, and her mother's mother before her; in fact, this veil went back four generations, so she had been told. She was proud to wear it this first Sunday of September when the afternoon sun danced along it, casting delicate shadows across her alabaster skin. Rachel had applied a modest portion of rogue to her silky smooth cheeks, but she had needed none, for her face had maintained a ruddy glow ever since Matthew's proposal two weeks prior. Diana had also painted her lips a vibrant red and fashioned her hair into a beautiful bun, using several sapphire combs to pin it in place.
When Little Joe stepped into the room to fetch his daughter for the ceremony, he couldn't believe his eyes, stopping there in the doorway, overcome with awe. He was certain the girl before him was Anne Marie, for she had the same features and complexion, the same hair and eyes, yet there was something so regal, so refined about the woman standing before him now – his flower that had bloomed right under his nose. She wasn't a child anymore, and it had never resonated more clearly with him than in this moment.
"Hi, Pa," she said softly, observing his reflection in the mirror and turning as he entered.
"Flower," he breathed, closing the door behind him and crossing the floor to embrace her. "You look beautiful."
She cocked a playful eyebrow. "As pretty as Ma?" she asked.
"Almost." He winked.
She giggled. "Thanks. You look very handsome too, Pa."
He grinned. "Well, thank you. Are ya ready?"
She nodded.
He offered her his arm, and as she looped hers through his he handed her the bouquet of daisies lying on the bed. Then he bent down and kissed her cheek.
"I love you, Anne Marie, with all my heart."
"I love you too, Pa," she said, returning the gesture with a kiss of her own. "Thank you for everything."
"No, flower," he said, shaking his head. "Thank you."
A single tear dripped softly down her face as her father's gaze of pride fell upon her, but Little Joe reached up to brush the liquid aside with his thumb, then the two walked out of the room together to meet the congregation below.
The End