A Love Defying The Odds (Historical Western Romance)

by Cassidy Hanton

  “What?” Matthew asked, stopping his angry pacing and walking over to where his uncle leaned against the fence. “You’d do what?”

  “You heard me. If it means you’re gonna lose the ranch or can’t pay off your note at the bank, I’ll do it. My brother worked too hard to leave you a legacy like this, and there’s no prettier place in the whole world than this ranch.” John coughed to cover up his emotions, then said, “It’s not like I do anything with my handful of acres anyway, I mostly just have it to call some place my own. But at my age, I don’t much care who owns the place where I rest my head at night.”

  “Uncle John, that… that means the world to me,” Matthew replied, extending his hand to the older man, who took it and shook it firmly. “But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. We’ll make do, just as we’ve always done. We’ll rely on each other, trust in the good Lord, and see what happens.”

  John chuckled softly. “I haven’t heard those words since your pa said them last. He always said that very same thing. You sounded just like him.”

  “That’s the mightiest compliment anyone can give me.” Matthew beamed proudly, patted his uncle’s arm in gratitude, and turned to go back to the house.

  He’d made it no more than ten paces before his careful smile turned into a mask of fury. As much as he’d hoped nothing and no one could bring him harm out here, Matthew finally knew for certain that someone was out to ruin him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  By the afternoon, the air had settled to a pleasant warmth and the sunlight drifted over the gently rolling grass. Lucy looked out over the ranch from the solitude of the wide front porch and watched for Matthew.

  She knew in the depth of her bones that he was an honest man, a caring person. He seemed to adore her, which stirred a strange and unfamiliar feeling in her. But after being lied to so coldly, Lucy was fearful of trusting him completely. It was a fault she would have to overcome, though she knew it could take time.

  Fortunately, time seemed to be something she had in abundance. Lucy had been at the ranch less than the space of a day but was already feeling like a new person. She need only find her place here, then Lucy knew she could be happy here.

  Lucy’s heart skipped when she saw Matthew emerge from the side of the barn. She knew it wasn't a seemly thought, but his pleasant smile, merry eyes, and strong build never failed to make her breath catch. She had not a single care for his appearance when she first wrote to him, only concerning herself with a man of character, one who was dedicated to his family and his work. But it pleased her all the same that he was handsome to the eye.

  “Miss Jones?” Matthew asked when he came close. “Have you been waiting out here for me all day?”

  Lucy blushed, and shook her head as she smiled shyly. “No, I’ve only been getting a good look at this beautiful land. I’ve never seen so much green in all my life!”

  “Oh, I’d forgotten about Nevada. Now that you mention it, I did hear it’s rather dusty and somewhat dry. Isn’t that right?” He waited, genuinely interested in the description of her recent hometown.

  “I’d never traveled beyond Shortcrag, at least not that I could remember,” Lucy admitted, “but our little town was only there because a good creek provided water. Shortcrag, for all her downfall, was a little oasis. But it was nothing compared to the beauty of all this!”

  “I’m mighty pleased you like it,” Matthew said, beaming. “I have to give my parents all the credit when it comes to building the farm, this house… but it’s been my life’s work to see it continue to grow and thrive. Are you ready to see the rest of it? Or at least what we can see before supper time, that is?”

  Lucy nodded eagerly, and Matthew went to find Susanna and Constance. He returned with a flannel to cover the wagon seat and a small wicker hamper courtesy of Gertie. The girls followed behind him, excitement clear on their faces.

  “Mr. Matthew,” Susanna said, “would it be too much trouble if my sister and I saddled two of the mares? We haven’t ridden in so long, and that way, we’d be able to join you without trying not to overhear your conversation with Miss Jones.”

  Matthew turned to Lucy to see her reaction, but she only shrugged. He turned back to Susanna and said, “That’s a fine idea. But I can’t trouble you any after you’ve worked so hard. I’ll bring them out myself!”

  He sprinted to the barn and disappeared inside, and Susanna came closer to Lucy. “Don’t fret any, miss. We’ll be close enough to chaperone, but I thought you might have a better talk with Mr. Matthew knowing that we weren’t possibly listening in.”

  “That is quite considerate of you, thank you!” Lucy answered, smiling gratefully. “But you’ll still be close by?”

  “I promise we won’t leave you!” Susanna whispered as Matthew came back leading two gentle-looking horses by the reins. “My, that didn’t take any time at all. Forgive me for being so bold, but I dare say he’s been looking forward to this ride even more than we have!”

  After seeing to helping the girls up into their saddles, Matthew spread the flannel out over the wooden seat that ran across the front of the wagon then turned to help Lucy climb in. He came around the other side and followed suit, then announced they were off.

  As Matthew pointed out different features of the landscape and peppered her with questions, Lucy looked over her shoulder from time to time. She needed to ensure that Susanna and Constance were indeed behind them. Relieved that they’d held to their word, she finally began to feel at ease.

  “I feel like I’ve done all the talking,” Matthew finally said with a laugh after they’d ridden along for over an hour. “Don’t you have any questions you wish to ask of me, or anything to tell?”

  “Oh, I have so many questions!” Lucy promised him. “But I’ve enjoyed just hearing about you and your family, and besides, I wouldn’t even know where to—”

  Matthew watched her cautiously as Lucy stopped short, her words vanishing. Her earlier enjoyment of their outing was gone, and her face was now a mask of fear and confusion. She looked straight ahead of her in horror, tears already slipping down her cheeks.

  “Miss Jones! What’s the matter?” Matthew asked earnestly, moving to take her hand but stopping himself. He looked to Susanna and Constance and jerked his head for them to come quickly.

  “This place,” Lucy whispered before finding her strength. She turned to Matthew and demanded, “What is this? What’s going on?”

  “Miss Jones, please tell me what you mean! I don’t understand!”

  “This cabin! I don’t know what kind of game this is, or what kind of fool you wish to play me for!” She burst into tears, her sobs shaking her shoulders so hard that Susanna and Constance flew to the sides of the wagon, concerned for her.

  Susanna shot an accusing glance at Matthew but said nothing, while Constance looked from Lucy to Matthew to her sister in confusion. Matthew was as horrified as the girls, and knew not what to say.

  “I’m so sorry, I don’t… I don’t understand,” Matthew said, hesitant to upset Lucy even further. “This is the boundary of the ranch, that’s all. My uncle has a small parcel of land just over there. In fact, he lives in that cabin. You’ve seen him around the ranch today, it’s Uncle John!”

  Lucy looked at Matthew wildly, her eyes filled with terror. “What did you say?”

  “I said, my uncle lives right there. Miss Jones, you seem so frightened! I promise, you’re safe as a newborn kitten!”

  She shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to calm the tremors the wracked her thin body. Fresh tears poured forth, and Matthew gestured silently to Susanna to do something. She dismounted from her horse, waved Matthew away, and took his place beside Lucy on the wagon seat after he’d climbed down.

  “Miss Jones? Won’t you please tell me what’s wrong?” Susanna asked softly, cradling Lucy’s shoulders in her arm. Lucy dropped her head to Susanna’s shoulder and continued to cry.

  “I just… I don’t understand! W
hy would you be so nice to me then bring me here?” she moaned, gasping for breath.

  “Whatever do you mean?” she asked. “We’re all just enjoying a lovely afternoon ride and taking in the ranch! See? There’s a small portion of the herd grazing over there, and here’s a wider place in the river that runs through the property, and—”

  “No, this place!” Lucy said, pointing to the structures in the distance. “Why did Mr. Miller save me from that other man and then bring me back?”

  “Back where, Miss Jones?” Matthew asked mournfully. “I’m at a loss, I don’t know what’s happened to upset you so!”

  “There!” Lucy shouted, wiping at her tears angrily. “That’s the cabin! That’s where I stayed when I got here! Why are you taking me back?”

  * * *

  Matthew felt the air leave his lungs only to be replaced by a burning sensation of loss. He fought to control himself, not wishing to frighten Lucy any further.

  How was that possible? Why would she have been at his uncle’s cabin?

  He paced back and forth while Susanna tried to comfort the poor creature. Matthew knew she had to be telling the truth; her terror and tears were so real, there was no mistaking that she was being honest.

  “Miss Jones,” Matthew finally said, addressing her as he came around in front of the wagon, “I don’t know what’s going on around here, but I will find out. I know it must seem strange right now, but just trust me.”

  He reached to pat her arm but Lucy flinched away from his touch, still shaking with fear. The single motion stabbed him straight in his heart, as it carried the knowledge that she was afraid of him.

  Matthew pulled his hand back and let it drop to his side, feeling defeated. Everything had been so wonderful since he’d first led her away from the sheriff’s office, but now, he felt just as hopeless as he had when he realized she’d arrived in Tuckerrise and he hadn’t been there to greet her.

  I’ve done nothing but disappoint her again and again, he thought. And now this?

  “Susanna? I think it might be best if you and Constance took Miss Jones back to the house,” Matthew said sadly. “Don’t worry, I’ll be along after a while. Be sure to help her inside, won’t you?”

  “Of course, Mr. Matthew,” she agreed, feeling every bit the hurt that both her employer and this new young lady were enduring. She smiled at Lucy reassuringly, then looked to her sister.

  Matthew took the reins of Susanna’s horse and held them as he watched her deftly steer the wagon back up the path that would lead home, Constance riding directly beside the wagon on Lucy’s other side this time. None of this was working out as he’d hoped, and he couldn’t help but feel that everything he tried to do somehow turned sour.

  No, he thought, stepping a foot into the stirrup and swinging himself up into the horse’s saddle, there seems to be something else at work here. And I aim to discover what it is.

  Matthew nudged the horse into a run and turned in the direction of the cabin. He knew it well, after all, and the barn beside it too. He couldn’t dare to let himself think that the frightened young lady was simply mistaken about which cabin this was; after all, there were only so many ways to erect one, and only so many different materials to use. Could she have been mistaken about where they were?

  He knew better than that. No one dissolves into that kind of fear over a “similar” cabin. And she’d said that it had been a little over an hour’s ride from town when she was brought here.

  One other thing stood out in Matthew’s mind: that it had been empty. He knew that couldn’t be right. Uncle John had a number of mementos, books that Matthew himself had read as a boy, even a couple of photographs that had been taken at that special tent at the city’s fair when they’d last ridden to Chicago. He had the kinds of tools that any household would need, such as a butter churn and a small sewing box, as well as a boot jack beside that door that had once landed on Matthew’s toe when he was a boy, blackening the nail and swelling his whole foot.

  The cabin of Matthew’s memory was filled with the kinds of belongings a homesteader would need out here in the wilds. Perhaps Uncle John hadn’t done much to turn his small plot into a thriving farm, but that was only because he spent every waking day working on Matthew’s own ranch. But his home was far from the barren space that Miss Jones had described.

  Matthew rode up into the small patch of grass that grew in the shade in front of the cabin and jumped down from the saddle. He hung the reins from one of the knotholes on a tree trunk that served as one of the roof supports, then climbed up on the porch, ducking his head to look in the one window as he got near. Pulling on the shutter gently, Matthew leaned into the darkness of the cabin and nearly fainted.

  It was empty.

  It was just as Miss Jones had described, a single room with only a narrow bed, a wood stove, a table and lone chair. There were no books, no pictures, no tools, no other furnishings. The dishes Uncle John used, ones that had been given to him when Matthew’s mother ordered a new set from a catalog quite a few years back, were gone, not that he’d accepted all that many.

  On a hunch, Matthew jumped down from the porch and crossed behind the house to the modest barn, noticing for the first time how it was in disrepair. Boards had come loose from the walls and the door badly needed new hinges. Planks that made up the roof were warped in places and already cracked, plenty big enough for letting rats and rain in.

  It’s a wonder he doesn’t fix this place up instead of working so hard at my property, Matthew thought, awed at his uncle’s devotion to helping him. Is it because I’ll always be his brother’s “little boy” in his eyes? A child who needs tending as he plays at being a rancher, rather than a grown man who can see to my own property?

  Matthew pulled on the heavy barn door and was surprised to find that it did not swing open. He knew the only way that was possible was for it to be latched from the inside, but Uncle John was still working over at his place. Could someone else be out here?

  He walked around the outside of the modest structure, looking at it from different sides and listening for any sound within. Finally, he noticed a board that jutted out from the building, leaving a large gap. Tugging on the end gently, he saw that it was no longer even fastened in place, but merely leaning among the others to give the appearance that it was still part of the wall.

  Well, that explains how you lock yourself out of your barn, he thought, but why would anyone go to such trouble?

  Deciding there was only one way to know for certain, he leaned the wide board to the side and slipped through the space it left. In the darkness of the barn, he questioned whether or not he would stumble. Feeling his way back to the door, Matthew unlatched it and let it fall open on its hinges, filling the barn with light.

  There were all of Uncle John’s things. The books, the butter churn, the coffee grinder, the photos, all of it stood stacked in rough piles as though someone had hidden it all here in a hurry. Confused, Matthew touched a few of the pieces that rested on top of the piles, recognizing each one.

  “What’s going on here?” Uncle John demanded, startling Matthew into nearly dropping a coffee kettle. “What is all this?”

  “I thought I might ask you the same,” he replied, his tone even. “Why are all of your things out here rather than in the house?”

  The older man looked at the piles of things for a second or two before answering, “I don’t know. Those are my things! They’re not supposed to be out here, who took ‘em outta the house?”

  Matthew shrugged, then put the kettle back on the pile. His mind spun with possibilities, but none of it made sense.

  “Miss Jones had to return to the house,” Matthew said flatly. “We rode out this way and she suddenly wasn’t feeling up to it anymore.”

  He waited to see if his uncle would react, but the man stayed quiet. He looked confused, as though waiting for Matthew to explain.

  “She said this was where she’d been kept by Frank Fisher as he pretended to be me
,” Matthew finished, turning to look his uncle in the eye.

  Uncle John reached out his hand and supported himself against the door frame before reaching for a low stool and lowering himself to it slowly. “Frank did what?”

  “Oh, that’s right. You’ve been away,” Matthew said, sighing slightly. He filled in the details that he could share, watching John’s expression as the story unfolded.

  “So how did you not know that your house has been stripped bare?” Matthew asked, trying to sound polite. “Where did you stay last night?”

  “I got in just before supper,” Uncle John answered, “so I just stayed at the bunkhouse with the boys. I thought it was kinda peculiar that Frank wasn’t there, but I didn’t pay it no mind.”

  “Frank wasn’t there because he’s dead, Uncle John,” Matthew said sadly. John gasped and clutched at his chest for a moment, and Matthew said, “He was shot in the middle of town, the sheriff is looking into it. I’ll never forgive whoever did it, though… they took a privilege I’d hoped to have.”