A Love Defying The Odds (Historical Western Romance)

by Cassidy Hanton

  “You are not the man you made yourself out to be in your letters,” Lucy said, whirling on him once she was outside. “Nothing you’ve said is true! What kind of fool do you take me for, and worse, what are your intentions?”

  Matthew seemed confused by her accusation—or perhaps the words themselves, she noted—but he said nothing in response. Instead, he hung his head and seemed to be slowing his anger. Finally, he looked up at her and spoke.

  “Go on in the house. I’ll bring food around in a little while.” And with that, he walked away again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  For once, Genevieve Miller was glad to have nothing to do. She stood at the window and looked out, watching with respectful awe, but not lifting a finger to help. Only moments before she might have thrown herself outside and insisted on alleviating some difficulty or decision, but now she waited, biding her time and praying that all was well.

  “Miz Miller? What are ya doin’ standing at the window like that?” Gertie asked in a low voice as if trying not to startle the mistress of the house.

  “Oh, Gertie. You gave me a fright,” she answered automatically, still intent on what was happening outside. “I’m watching Mr. Matthew to be sure that he doesn’t hurt himself.”

  Gertie pushed back the curtains but Genevieve stopped her hand, keeping them closed so no one would know the women were watching.

  “Whooo, Lord. What in tarnation is Mr. Matthew up to? He should still be a-bed!” Gertie said, already fretting.

  “No. He has to do this. He must,” Genevieve answered, still voicing her words as though there was no emotion behind them. “He is terrified, afraid for the life of another person. He is moving on pure fear right now, and we mustn’t interrupt him.”

  Gertie turned and looked at Genevieve, unsure of what she was hearing. Gone was the woman who was constantly underfoot in her attempts to be helpful and feel useful, and instead, a mother who was grieving for her child’s pain had taken her place.

  “Miz Miller, won’t you come sit down? Come on, sit down here by the window. Let me fix you a cup of tea, you’ll feel right as rain in no time!” Gertie tried to gently tug her elbow, but Genevieve refused to move.

  “No, thank you. I have to watch Matthew and make sure he’s all right. But I mustn’t interfere. I don’t understand it a whit, but he has to do this alone.”

  * * *

  For all his mother’s worry, Matthew struggled to keep a serene face as he fought to harness the horses to the wagon. He’d managed to dress himself in some fresh clothes and even put on his boots, but the wagon was proving to be a great struggle. Still, he was driven on by the vision in his mind of Lucy Jones—a vision of a woman he’d never even seen and could never have recognized—standing at the depot and wondering if she’d been played for a fool.

  After a great many minutes had passed, he had the team hitched and was ready to climb in the wagon, but found he lacked the strength to climb up. Looking around, Matthew spotted a small barrel just inside the barn. He staggered over and pushed the barrel down with his foot then proceeded to roll it into place rather than try to lift it.

  Matthew thought briefly about how he would get back into the wagon once he made it to town, but decided that was unimportant. He needed to reach Tuckerrise and see if Lucy had come, and anything else was of no consequence.

  It took a great deal more effort than he’d intended to sit up in the wagon seat all the way to town, and after some time, Matthew reclined by leaning sideways against the plank that served as a bench. The horses were trustworthy and knew the way, especially since he kept to the worn wagon path that stretched all the way from his ranch to the town.

  After a far longer time than he’d hoped, they reached Tuckerrise. Matthew knew it could be fraught with danger at times, especially if he ran into some of the wrong kinds of people, so he forced himself to sit up straight. He wanted to give the appearance of a man who had full control of his strength and faculties, even if it wasn’t how he felt.

  “You lookin’ fer somebody, sir?” a steward called out as he reached the depot where coaches and trains all left their passengers.

  “I just might be,” he answered brightly, trying not to sound pained by his search. “I’ve been… out of town… and I’m afraid someone who was supposed to come this way might have already been here and gone. How would I find out if any passengers have come through?”

  “Well, the station master over yonder has a manifest,” the steward said, putting down a trunk he’d been carrying and pointing to a man seated behind a high desk. “You could start there.”

  Matthew passed the steward some coins for his trouble, which were gratefully accepted, and strolled slowly towards the station master’s podium.

  “What can I do for you, sir?” the older man asked, taking note of Matthew’s dress and clean appearance.

  “I’m looking for someone who may have come this way. A young lady, traveling all alone, in fact,” Matthew replied, letting his description inform the man just how grave the situation might be.

  “I see. Do you have the date of her arrival?” The man began thumbing back through a ledger book.

  Matthew shook his head and regretted the dizzying gesture instantly. “No, I’m not even sure of when she might have departed from home. But I can tell you where she left, if that helps at all.”

  “Perhaps it might be useful, let’s take a look. Shall we? What was her departure station?”

  “I should think she came by coach. I don’t know that the train reaches Shortcrag, Nevada yet,” Matthew explained. The station master shook his head and clucked sadly.

  “No, it most certainly does not. Shortcrag was supposed to be a central hub for three different lines, a place where they would all converge before spreading out. It’s just too bad that the town has all but died. There are only a handful of residents there, and the rail line was never even begun.” He brightened considerably and added, “But then again, that’s very helpful! That means she came by coach, and there are far fewer passengers to look through!”

  Together, they combed through the ledger book for different dates. Matthew was surprised by how many people passed through Tuckerrise in a given week, some of whom would settle near the town and others who would keep moving. The names, penciled in with the station master’s meticulous handwriting, began to swim before Matthew’s eyes until the older man called out.

  “Did you say Miss Jones? L. Jones?” he asked, squinting down at a faint green line where his finger rested.

  “Yes, I did!” Matthew said, feeling the faint stirring of hope, a feeling that was strong enough to revive him, if only for a little while.

  “Well, no wonder we had to look so far. Says here she arrived by coach only yesterday, sometime ‘round three o’clock.” The older man looked up at Matthew over the top of his half-moon spectacles but had nothing else to say.

  “But… but where is she now?” he demanded, his earlier elation already turning to a sudden feeling of anxious guilt. If only I’d been here to meet her!

  “That I couldn’t say, son! I can only tell you that she made it as far as Tuckerrise, got off the coach, and then… well, there’s no way for me to know after that. I can tell you the names of the other passengers if it helps, I’m really not at liberty to say but seeing as how there weren’t but two of them…”

  “Thank you, anything you can tell me may help me find her!” Matthew said, but even with the names, it did nothing to help.

  Matthew half-stumbled through the streets and storefronts of the town, asking anyone he came across who looked even vaguely familiar if they’d seen Lucy. He inquired at all three of the hotels and the boarding house, the church and the mission house, even the four saloons, all in hopes that Lucy had been there or that someone had spotted her.

  But she was nowhere to be found.

  Late in the day and with his strength gone, there was nothing Matthew could do but return to the ranch. His mother, usually something of a wel
l-intentioned soul and a sweet bother in these matters, would know exactly what to do next.

  * * *

  Gertie was the first to note Matthew’s arrival back at the ranch. From her place on the porch where she sat shelling an endless mound of field peas, she looked up to see an empty wagon heading along the path. She strained her eyes to get a better look, then finally stood up to see what was so strange about it.

  “Miz Miller! Come quick!” she called back over her shoulder as she raced across the yard to the barn. Finding none of the ranch hands inside, she hurried around to the well and then to the paddock where the horses grazed, relieved to find several men standing along the fence and discussing the day’s work.

  “Help! It’s Mr. Matthew’s wagon, but he’s done fallen back! Hurry!” Gertie cried, waving the men on.

  They raced ahead of her to the path after only a moment’s confusion. They reached the wagon just as the team began to slow to a gentle meander, and one of the men took the reins. The others climbed up into the wagon and found Matthew laid back against the seat, too weak to sit up.

  They carried him to the porch and set him in the chair that Gertie had occupied, but he managed to look at them and nod.

  “Thank you for the help, I can manage from here,” he joked, and the men were relieved to hear him speak. “I just outdid myself today, that’s all. I just need to get back in the bed and have a little something to eat.”

  “Come on, boss, we’ll tote you up the stairs!” Seaborn said, already lifting Matthew’s arm and placing it around his shoulders. Samuel took the other side, and they started to move before Matthew stopped them.

  “It might be best if my ma didn’t see me looking like the town drunk on a three-day spree,” he said, laughing quietly. The hands exchanged a nervous look, knowing how any sign of trouble could set Mrs. Miller into a series of fits.

  “Miss Gertie?” Seaborn asked. “Do you think you could get Miz Miller into the kitchen for a minute and let us sneak Mr. Matthew up the stairs?”

  Gertie nodded, determined to do anything that would keep the older lady from seeing her son in this condition. “I sure can, lemme just get this basket of peas. She can help me look for rotten ones! Just wait a few minutes then bring him inside.”

  When Gertie waved to the men at the window to tell them the path was clear, they hurried Matthew through the door, up the stairs, and to his room. Samuel helped him with his boots while Seaborn looked around for something else the boss could put on. Only when they were sure he was settled did they hurry downstairs and back out the front door.

  “Why, Matthew? When did you get in?” Genevieve asked when she followed Gertie and a dinner tray up the stairs. “And was there any word of Miss Jones in town?”

  Matthew shook his head. “It’s worse than I thought, Ma. She arrived yesterday…” He paused to remind his mother that there was no cause for celebration. “…but I couldn’t find her anywhere. I couldn’t even find anyone who’d remembered seeing her. The passengers who came by coach along with Miss Jones have already moved on, headed to California.”

  “But that’s not bad news at all!” his mother said, clapping her hands. “We’ll just inquire in town some more, perhaps put up notices that say we’re looking for her. If only you had some sort of picture of her, that would help, but certainly her name will be plenty!”

  Matthew smiled. “I knew you’d know what to do!”

  “Think nothing of it, son. We’re going to find her. I just hope she’s not too put out with us for not being there. Somehow, though, I’m sure she’ll understand why you were prevented.” Genevieve sat down in the chair beside Matthew’s bed then added, “And you can stop putting on a good show for my sake. I know that you’re weaker than a newborn kitten. Drink up some more of that broth Gertie brought up, and Dr. Kleinmen brought some iron tonic by today when he came out to see how you were getting on.”

  “I will, Mother. And thank you.” Matthew accepted the spoonful of foul-smelling liquid without complaint, then gratefully took the mug of broth. “Ah, I can feel it working already!”

  “Hush that sass, you naughty boy!” Genevieve replied, but she smiled just the same.

  Matthew soon turned serious. “Ma, I have to tell you something. On the ride back home, I tried so hard not to think of terrible things that might have befallen Miss Jones, and that got my mind working. You said something odd before I was hurt, something about bad things happening out here. What did you mean?”

  “Oh, that was just my silly rambling,” she answered, waving her hand dismissively. “Don’t pay me any mind when I get that way!”

  “No, I’m very keen to know. I’ve started to wonder about it myself, especially… especially since I think I know what happened to me,” Matthew said. He looked around as though ensuring they were alone. “I think someone hit me over the head.”

  “But who would possibly do such a thing?” Genevieve whispered. “No one here—man or woman—would ever lift a hand against you!”

  “I don’t know, but I only know what’s coming back to my mind,” he explained. “I noticed today that there’s a tool missing from the barn, I saw it when I was hitching the team. There’s a shovel missing, as well as a ranch hand. No one has seen Frank in several days.”

  His mother was quiet, pondering her son’s revelation. She thought it through, waiting for him to say more, but finally she nodded.

  “I can see how each problem on its own might be nothing more than a spate of bad luck. Taken together, though, it could very well be that someone means you harm.” She pressed her lips together in a thin, grim line. “But you mustn’t say a word of this to anyone. Without knowing who might be behind it, you must keep this a secret.”

  “I think so too. I only wish Uncle John was here, he’d know exactly how to find out who the culprit might be,” Matthew said. “Let’s hope he’s back from his errands soon. In the meantime, we must find out what happened to Miss Jones. I worry that she’s been put up somewhere, or that she returned home when I wasn’t there to meet her.”

  “Oh, don’t pay that thought any mind,” Genevieve said, shaking her head. “The station master would have seen her name today, whether she went by coach or by train. No, without another entry in the passenger list, she must still be here. And I promise you, son, we’ll find her!”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Several days had passed since Lucy’s arrival. She saw Matthew only in passing, when he came by the house to tend to his horse or bring food. She was perplexed by the fact that it was always prepared—a slab of cornbread, a bowl full of beans with some salt pork, even the occasional bunch of apples tied up in a cloth. She tried speaking to him, but her attempts at conversation were met with only the barest replies and single-word answers.

  Any smart girl would be on the next coach out of Tuckerrise, she told herself. But where would she go? How would she even get back into town without telling Matthew she was not content with this life?

  There hadn’t been a single word mentioned again about marriage, something that he’d made very clear in his letter. While Matthew did honor the fact that they were not married and therefore kept his distance from the house, what then? When would the day come that he determined they should be wed? More importantly, how would she ever reach such a decision when he barely spoke to her?

  As miserable as her circumstances seemed at first, Lucy had to acknowledge that it could be much worse. While far from ideal, leaving now could be like going from the frying pan to the fire. There was no telling what harm could come to her if she struck out on her own, made her way back to town, and bought a ticket for as far as her small purse would take her.

  “There’s nothing to do but wait,” Lucy muttered aloud, looking out through the lone window for the hundredth time that morning.

  Nothing about the view had changed, of course. The same scraggly brush of plants stood low in the distance, the same rocky patch of red dirt ringed the property. Lucy had learned to make a game of w
atching for animals to wander into sight, and she began tallying in her head how many jackrabbits or coyotes or even antelope strolled by.

  But even the sight of so many creatures wasn’t enough to ease her mind. This wasn’t what she’d envisioned at all, and Matthew was nothing like the man she’d met through his letters. She chastised herself for her foolishness in coming here to meet a man she’d only corresponded with for a matter of months, and more than once cried while wishing she was anywhere else, even back in the emptiness of Shortcrag.

  “That’s what I’ll do!” she said out loud, smacking her hand on the windowsill sharply. “I’ll write to Mrs. Mayhew! She’ll know what I should do.”

  Lucy had already inspected every nook and cranny of the cabin and knew there was no paper or pencil in it. She dared not venture into the barn, either, but then again, there was no reason to think there should be anything useful in its emptiness.