Unexpected Vows In A Frontier Town Chapter 09

Unexpected Vows In A Frontier Town Chapter 09

Martha lay sprawled on the ground, her face the color of ash.

Her head drooped lower and lower.

“Wren, please, have mercy! I was wrong, I was really wrong! Just let me go, please!”

Tears and snot smeared across her face.

“I’m begging you on my knees! For Mr. Pike’s sake, for the sake of our town, please spare my life…”

I looked at her and said nothing.

In my past life, she’d enjoyed ten years of luxury at Whisper Valley, a pampered lady clothed in lavish gowns and fine jewels every day.

Her daughter had been the lady of Van der Berg. Mother and daughter, each holding a son, riding high and mighty.

And I, clutching my sister’s death notice, froze into a stiff corpse in the winter snow.

Back then, had she ever thought to spare me?

My sister didn’t look at her either.

She turned back to Alistair, took his arm, and said simply, “Alistair, it’s getting late. Let’s head home. Now that I’ve seen my sister’s settled, I can rest easy.”

Alistair nodded, swept a cold glance at Martha on the ground, and instructed his guards. “Hand over all the evidence to the sheriff. Her and that bodyguard, don’t let either one slip through.”

Four guards stepped forward and hauled Martha up from the floor.

As she passed me, she turned her head and gave me one last look with those bloodshot eyes.

There was no venom left in that gaze. Only a hollow, dead gray.

The stone that had pressed against my chest for ten years finally shattered in that moment.

Martha’s case didn’t drag on long.

For public defamation, conspiracy with a bodyguard, slander, and attempted harm to the Van der Berg heir, she was convicted on all counts and sent to prison. Silver Creek cut all ties with her completely.

On the day of her sentencing, she didn’t cry anymore. She didn’t scream either. She just sat at the defendant’s table like a clay figure drained of its soul.

That winter, Sage gave birth to a healthy boy.

I went to the Van der Berg estate to see her.

She leaned against her pillows, looking rosy and healthy, cradling a tiny bundle wrapped in wool.

The little one’s face was still wrinkled, tender and soft, fast asleep with tiny fists clenched. Warm breath billowed from his lips, curling into faint white mist in the cool air.

My sister looked up at me, and that sharp edge in her brows had melted into something soft and warm.

She patted the edge of the bed for me to sit, then gently placed the baby in my arms.

“Come. Let Wren hold you.”

I carefully cradled that soft little body, not daring to breathe too heavily.

The baby squirmed against me, then suddenly opened his dark and bright eyes, stared at me blankly, and let out a tiny yawn.

The tears came before I could stop them.

My sister reached over and wiped them away. She didn’t say anything comforting, and just patted my hand softly.

By March, Spring arrived. The muddy dirt road at Silver Creek’s entrance had finally been paved into asphalt all the way to Cinder Creek.

On the day it was finished, I went back for a visit.

The mayor led the whole town, young and old, to greet me at the intersection.

His cane tapped crisp against the new stone as he smiled from ear to ear, chattering to the younger folks beside him.

“What I told you? Wren always keeps her word! She promised to pave our road, and here it is!”

I walked a few steps through the crowd, then stopped.

Those faces that had once pointed fingers at me now wore careful,
ingratiating smiles.

They’d looked down on me as a shack-born orphan, pushed me to
bow my head, forced me to accept my fate.

Now they’d learned to bend their backs, all because I’d become Mrs.
Wolfram.

I didn’t say much. I just nodded, turned, and walked back to the
carriage.

Sebastian was waiting inside.

He had some papers in hand, but when he saw me, he set them aside.
His voice was as calm as ever.

“Everything settled in Silver Creek?”

“All settled.”

I leaned against his shoulder, breathing in that crisp scent of pine,
and felt sleep tug at me.

The carriage rolled slowly over the freshly paved road at Silver Creek’s
entrance.

I glanced into the rearview mirror and saw the mayor still standing
under the old pine tree, tipping his hat from afar in silent salute to our
departing carriage.

I closed my eyes.

Ten years.

All the bitter snowstorms of my past life had melted beneath the warm spring sunshine of this new life.