to be referring to her pregnancy.
“Yes. That’s right. Accidents happen.”
It was all they had time to say before Myron Farmer’s arrival.
Myron took one look at the abrasions on Mary’s face and the condition of her clothing and knew what he’d just been told must be true.
“Is it true? Did you fall beneath the stage?”
She hesitated just a moment too long for Dooley.
“Well sir, Mr. Farmer, I saw it all. She miss-stepped and fell right off the sidewalk into the path of the oncoming stage. But she’s fine now as you can see.”
Mary gently patted Dooley’s chest.
“Because of you,” she said softly. “And you can put me down. I can walk the rest of the way home.”
“No. I reckon I’ll be carrying you… just to make sure,” Dooley said.
Mary blushed.
Myron frowned as he looked from Mary’s clothes to Dooley’s clothes, then from the abrasions on her face to the same sort of wounds on his face and hands.
“I say, Dooley! Was it you? Did you save our Mary?”
Mary nodded. “Yes, Father. It all happened so fast I hardly remember it well, but I know he caught me and held me tight with one hand, and caught the team’s harness with his other until the stagecoach driver could stop.”
Myron threw up his hands and began crying anew, embarrassing Dooley to no end. He wasn’t accustomed to crying people, especially men.
“I just happened to be there,” Dooley said. “And I reckon we better get Miss Mary home and see to her face.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Myron said. “Follow me.”
Dooley did, still carrying the woman who was going to be his wife. He hadn’t completely absorbed the impact of all that had happened in the last thirty minutes, but he knew his life would never be the same. Then he looked down at Mary, remembered the loneliness of his life and decided that would be just fine.
Myron hurried into the store to find his wife waiting on a customer.
“Mother! Mary has had an accident.”
Elizabeth Farmer gasped as she saw the huge blacksmith carrying Mary into the store.
“Oh dear!” she cried, and ran to Mary. “What happened?”
“She fell off the sidewalk in front of the oncoming stage,” Dooley said, feeling more and more comfortable with his part in the lie.
“Dooley saved me,” Mary added, thankful that her part in the story was still the truth.
“Thank God and thank you,” Elizabeth said, and hugged them both. “Can you bring her upstairs?”
“Yes, ma’am. I reckon I’d be happy to.”
Then Elizabeth remembered her customer. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Dewar. I’ll get your order right now.”
The banker’s wife shook her head. “No, no. I can come back later. You tend to your child.” She patted Mary’s arm. “You are a very lucky young woman, and you sir, are a brave young man to do what you’ve done. You should be honored.”
“That’s not necessary, Mrs. Dewar. I just happened to be there,” Dooley said, and carried Mary up the stairs, with both parents following closely behind.
Mary felt bereft when Dooley put her down, and realized how safe she’d felt in his arms. She watched him trying to get out of the way as her parents hovered around her and suddenly realized how big he really was. His shoulders were almost as wide as her door and he had to bend his head slightly so as not to bump the ceiling. Thanks to the persistence of the recently departed Joseph Carver, she knew what went on between a man and a woman and wondered what it would be like being married to this giant of a man. Would he hurt her? Would he demand things of her that she couldn’t fulfill? Then she caught him looking at her with those gentle blue eyes and knew he could do none of those things. In that moment, her heart felt full.
“Mother. Father. I have something to tell you.”
They stilled. Dooley looked nervous.
“Dooley Pilchard has asked for my hand in marriage and I have given him my consent.”
Elizabeth and Myron gasped in unison, then turned and stared at the hairy giant in their daughter’s room and instinctively moved until they were standing between him and Mary’s bed.
“No,” Myron said. “I’m sorry, but you must understand that is out of the question. You’re too young and he’s… he’s…”
Dooley had been expecting this. After all, it had to appear to Mary’s parents as if he and Mary had both lost their minds.
“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth said. “We so appreciate what you did for our Mary, but under the