A Love Defying The Odds (Historical Western Romance)

by Cassidy Hanton

  * * *

  Panic set in as people flocked to the area where the man still lay face down. Lucy scrambled to make sense of it. Two Matthews? How was that possible? And yet, this second man knew so much, much more than the first Matthew had known. Had she truly been deceived, and if so, to what end?

  More than ever, Lucy wanted to go home to Shortcrag. She would take Mrs. Mayhew up on her offer of a home. She would tend the older woman, and perhaps even be a blessing to her in her old age. That way, she wouldn’t be beholden or a useless layabout. She’d earn her keep by cooking and cleaning and caring for her for as long as she needed!

  Lucy was of half a mind to walk to the postmaster that very instant in order to write to the old woman, but she had promised to stay put. Besides, with the man she was supposed to marry now dead in the street, she feared that she might look like a suspicious stranger. She would stay put as she’d promised, but only in case the sheriff needed to speak with her.

  To her relief, it wasn’t much longer before both the lawman and this new Matthew Miller walked towards her. She stood up as tall as she could and tried to halt the trembling in her limbs. While Mr. Miller looked truly concerned for her wellbeing, the sheriff looked very grim.

  “Miss Jones?” he began, sounding gruff. “I’ll need to ask you some questions. If you’ll be so kind as to come with me?”

  She nodded mutely, already feeling a cold fear spread over her. She was only slightly relieved when Mr. Miller interrupted to say, “Excuse me, Sheriff? Miss Jones is my betrothed, and as such, I have to insist on being present when you speak to her.”

  The sheriff nodded as though this was to be expected, but all Lucy could feel was unspeakable gratitude. She looked up at him and smiled, and his green eyes softened as if to say, “I’m going to care for you.”

  Together, the three of them walked to the jail and entered through a door with a heavy padlock on it. The sheriff led them to a pair of chairs in front of his sturdy wooden desk, then gestured for them to sit.

  For the next hour, Matthew sat silently while Lucy answered all of the sheriff’s questions. She had to tell the most embarrassing details about her upbringing as a charity case, all the way to how she had to earn her keep in her adult years out of need.

  “So Miss Jones, is it possible you answered an advertisement in order to take advantage of another man’s wealth?” the sheriff asked coldly. “And when you discovered that he was not the man you thought him to be, you arranged for someone to shoot him?”

  “Sir, I would never!” she cried, but Matthew interrupted.

  “Sheriff, surely you remember that it was I who placed the advertisement, not Frank Fisher. And I also paid for Miss Jones’s passage. If she were intent on taking advantage of a poor farmer, Frank would have no one to blame but himself for assuming my identity and lying to Miss Jones. She has been sorely abused and deceived, and is therefore the victim in all of this.”

  “I understand that, Miller, but you have to look at this from my point of view. Tuckerrise is a fairly lawful town, and I don’t take to sweeping up dead bodies in the middle of the day. That kind of thing—if it has to happen at all, that is—is for the gin houses and the brothels far outside of town, not in front of Dr. Kleinman’s house.”

  “Sir, if you’ll kindly mind how you speak in front of my future bride?” Matthew said, throwing the obvious authority of a well-to-do landowner before them.

  The sheriff cleared his throat and apologized. “Sorry, ma’am, he’s right. I’ll mind my manners. But are you absolutely sure you’ve never known this man before you came here?”

  “I assure you, Sheriff Cooper. I first met him when he approached me at the depot and claimed to be Matthew Miller,” Lucy explained patiently, her voice cracking somewhat. “He took me to his home—which was nothing like he’d described in his letters—and finally just yesterday I insisted that I had to come to town to purchase some things. My intention was to write to my dear friend back in Shortcrag and inform her that I would be coming home. I… I still am not quite sure what’s happening!”

  The sheriff leaned back in his chair and kicked his boot feet up on the desk, then suddenly remembered there was a lady present. He coughed quietly and sat up straighter, his boots thudding against the wooden floor, and looked thoughtful.

  “And you say you know who this man is?” he asked, addressing Matthew.

  “I do,” Matthew confirmed. “His name—or at least the name he’s given me—is Frank Fisher. He’s been a cowhand at my ranch for these past many months, ever since he hired on for the drive last spring. I haven’t seen much of him in the past few days, only crossing paths here and there, but that’s not too strange when we’re all going about our work. But I knew him the moment he stepped out of the tobacco shop.”

  “I see. Well, I have no cause to believe either of you are mixed up in his murder,” the sheriff said, although he didn’t sound relieved. “I do have to wonder what in the blue blazes is going on here, though. Why would he claim to be you, Miller?”

  “That I don’t know, but rest assured that I will find out. When I do, you’ll be the first to hear of it,” Matthew said. “But now, if it’s all the same to you, Miss Jones has been sorely treated these past four days. I intend to escort her to my home and let my mother tend to her needs. You’ll know where to find both of us if you need something, Sheriff.”

  Matthew stood up abruptly as though that was the end of the conversation, then held out his elbow for Lucy to take. She slipped her hand hesitantly through the crook of his arm and he helped her to stand, then led her to the door. He held it open for and allowed her to pass, then walked protectively alongside her to where his wagon awaited.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know what to say,” Lucy started, but Matthew patted her hand.

  “No, I’m the one who will apologize for the rest of my days,” he replied firmly. “I invited you here, only to be injured that very same day I wrote the letter. I was laid up in the bed and never even knew that letter had been posted, let alone that you’d followed through with the arrangements and arrived here. When I think of you standing all alone at the depot, waiting for a stranger who never came and wondering if you’d been played for a fool, why… I could horsewhip myself!”

  Lucy smiled, but her face quickly clouded over. “Do you truly not know what that man’s intentions were, then?”

  “I assure you, I do not. But I have to say this. If any harm has come to you, Miss Jones, I vow to you I will make it right,” Matthew added, avoiding her gaze.

  He waited for Lucy to realize the full gravity of what he’d said, and she did eventually understand him—that he’d take responsibility for anything Frank might have done to her—causing her pale cheeks to color a deep pink before she looked away.

  “I… I am grateful that you feel so strongly, but I promise you, I was not harmed at all. In fact, it was so strange! Once I mentioned that your mother—I guess I mean, his mother—was supposed to be there and he made some pretense as to why she was not, I barely saw him again. He came by the cabin to bring food at different times, but otherwise, I never saw him. I was left completely alone.”

  “Oh Miss Jones, that pains me to hear you’ve been given such a wretched introduction to our fair town,” Matthew said. “I promise you, I will make it up to you in every possible way!” He gestured to the wagon and added, “Now, I would be honored if you’d travel with me to my home—my real home, I assure you—and meet my people. But I do understand if you’d feel better here in town where there are others around you, as well as businesses and even the lawman. It would be my privilege to secure rooms for you at any of the hotels until you’ve had a chance to recover and we’ve become better acquainted, if that is what you wish.”

  “No, that won’t be necessary,” Lucy said, smiling gratefully. “I feel very content right now, especially now that I’ve met the real Matthew Miller. The very fact that you would offer me a place of my own tells me you’re an honorable and
trustworthy man. But I would very much like to see your home.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The man looked down at the swill of bourbon in the hazy glass in front of him. He lifted it to take a long, slow sip as another man sidled up next to him at the bar and waved down the old man pouring the drinks.

  “You hear any word about Frank?” the newcomer asked under his breath. “They say the sheriff shot him down like a dog, right in the middle of a bank robbery last week.”

  “Huh. That ain’t how I heard it. I found out it was one of them marshals sent by the government. They’re taking a real hard look at Tuckerrise now that they got some new folks out there. Heard they’re cleanin’ house ‘round here.”

  “Dontcha know it. There’s even talk about makin’ Utah a state. Don’t know how I like that idea, bein’ beholden to what those fancy folks over in Washington think.” The younger man huffed loudly then accepted the mug of beer before flipping a coin to the barkeep.

  “Either way, it don’t matter to me. Frank was a troublemaker, always up to no good,” the older man said firmly, any traces of remorse missing from his words. “With him gone, there’ll be less suspicion on everybody in these parts.”

  “I dunno about that now. There’s talk the Old Greer has shown his face around here lately. There’s been more than a little rough stuff happening.”

  “Old Greer?” the first man said, spitting on the floor in contempt before wiping a dribble of tobacco juice from his chin whiskers. “That fellow’s been dead for ten years! Where you hearing this kind of talk?”

  “He ain’t dead, he’s just been run outta Utah! His men have been all through these parts in the last couple years, and someone told me they saw him just last week. He was in town, riding with a few of his men!”

  The old man, his gray hair jutting out wildly from beneath his tattered hat, was silent for once. Old Greer… wasn’t dead? He’d counted on the rumors to be true, but with word spreading that perhaps he wasn’t, the man knew it was only a matter of time before he crossed paths with one of the most feared outlaws ever to see a Utah sunset.

  “I’d best be heading out,” the old man muttered, tossing some coins on the table before slapping down an extra one as the tip. “You let me know if you hear any more about Greer and his gang, all right?”

  “What in the blazes would you go looking for that kind of trouble for?” he half-shouted, his eyes going wide.

  The older man shook his head. “That’s my business, not yours. So keep your nose out of it and just do like I said. You let me know if you hear he’s come back through Tuckerrise.”

  “Sure thing,” the new one said with a hearty laugh at the man’s retreating back, “but don’t you worry. You know what they say. If Old Greer wants to find you, he will.”

  * * *

  “And this, Miss Jones, is my little bit of heaven,” Matthew said as he drove the wagon around a bend and the entirety of the ranch came into view.

  Lucy gasped in wonder at the beauty of it all. Ahead of her, the land stretched out for miles in every direction, dotted only by the cattle that grazed serenely as far as she could see. A stately two-story home covered in windows that faced the east stood at the near boundary, and close by was an enormous barn. What captured her attention, though, was the shallow river that cut a path through the land, winding like a shimmering country lane as it flowed past.

  “Mr. Miller, this is breathtaking,” Lucy finally managed to say, her eyes faintly brimming with tears.

  “I’m so pleased you like it,” he admitted, blushing slightly. “I… I hope it quickly feels like home to you.”

  Lucy looked at Matthew but shyly ducked her head, clinging with full hope to his words. A home where she belonged? Finally, after all these years, and after the near-miss of a fiasco of her arrival in Tuckerrise? It was enough to make her head swim.

  Of course, sitting so close to the real Matthew Miller was making her breath catch in her chest, too. She realized she’d resigned herself to the false Matthew, the one who barely spoke and seemed none too pleased to be in her presence. Merely sitting alongside Matthew lifted her spirits greatly, but she had to be careful to guard her heart. He seemed like a wonderful person, but Lucy worried that it might be nothing more than adoration of the man who’d rescued her in more ways than one.

  As the wagon bumped and bounced along the narrow path towards the house, a flurry of activity commenced at the ranch house. Farmhands stepped out of the barn or stopped their work and crossed the paddock to see who was approaching. The front door to the house opened no less than three times, first when the two maids emerged, then followed by Gertie, then finally when Mrs. Miller hurried out, standing on her toes and trying to see over the others’ heads.

  “As you can pretty much see, everyone is so excited to finally meet you,” Matthew said, pointing ahead while still clutching the reins. “We’ve all been beside ourselves that something might have been amiss.”

  “I’m as eager as they are!” Lucy replied, smiling broadly. “Your letters painted such a beautiful picture of this place, but I’m afraid they didn’t do it nearly the justice it deserved. Or maybe that was just the failing of my imagination! But I’m even more excited to meet everyone.”

  And to be around people at last, she thought.

  The trepidation of the last few days had caused Lucy to realize just how much she craved the company of others. The isolation of the ramshackle cabin and the lack of any kind of diversion had done the worst: it had given her countless empty hours to fret over the children.

  Were they all right? Were they being treated kindly? Was there any hope they were continuing their learning, or were their days an endless hourglass of drudgery and toil?

  During the daylight hours, Lucy had passed the time in fervent prayer for each one of them. She prayed for the boys to be spared the dangers of the railroad, prayed for the girls to avoid the hurts of being motherless and unloved. But at night when the cabin was dark and the only sound was her own silent sobs, the weight of grief threatened to choke her to death.

  What she most looked forward to now, Lucy realized, was life. She cared not whether she had to work hard or tend to others, she only needed something to fill the days and give her a purpose again.

  “Now, I must warn you about my mother,” Matthew began, interrupting her thoughts as he brought the wagon close to the house, but it was useless for him to try to explain.

  Mrs. Miller had fairly leapt off the wide front porch and raced towards them, hitching her skirts just high enough to run without fear of falling. Lucy instinctively leaned away from the seemingly mad woman and struggled to keep her expression unnerved.

  “Miss Jones! At last!” the older woman called out in a high-pitched squeal of sheer delight. She stopped short and pressed her hands to her chest, then turned to call out to someone. “Oh Gertie, would you look at her! She’s simply the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen!”

  “Now Miz Miller, you got to hush that kinda talk! You’re gonna scare her to death!” another woman replied, limping down the steps and crossing the yard to where the wagon stopped.

  Lucy turned to look at Matthew, but he was only grinning at the two women. She looked behind the women to the two maids who still waited on the porch, then lifted her hand in a slight wave to them. They giggled behind their hands for a few seconds before returning her greeting.

  “Mother, if you’ll give Miss Jones a little room to breathe before throwing yourself on her, I’m sure she’d love to be introduced properly,” Matthew said, pretending to chide his mother. When he climbed down from the wagon and bent to kiss her cheek, she swatted him on the arm.

  “I’m not throwing myself on anybody,” she answered, pretending to be aloof. “I’m welcoming my new daughter as is fitting! She’s family and I can’t wait to dote on her! But speaking of doing things ‘properly,’ you might consider helping her down from the wagon before she breaks her neck, Matthew.”

  “Or was yo
u planning to leave her up in the wagon in case she decides to head back to the train depot after meeting all of us?” Gertie asked in a serious voice before smiling at Lucy and winking.

  Matthew held out both hands to Lucy and helped her navigate the wagon step, then dutifully passed her to his mother. Mrs. Miller instantly wrapped the girl in a tight embrace, surprising even herself when she was overcome with emotion.

  “My dear girl, I am so very sorry that you were left in such a terrible state upon your arrival!” the woman began, and Lucy had to smile.

  “It’s really no bother, Mrs. Miller. I—” Lucy began, but she was interrupted.

  “I’ll not hear of it! You mustn’t call me so formally! Please, I insist that you call me ‘Mother,’ but only if it pleases you!” Mrs. Miller said, a look of hope on her face.

  “Of course… Mother,” Lucy replied, feeling shy once again.