His Forgotten Fiancée (Love Inspired Historical)

by Evelyn M. Hill

  “And if I win?”

  “You don’t have to listen to my persuasive arguments. Not for the next day or so, anyway.”

  She could not refuse. For once, he looked lighthearted. He was actually smiling. Just a little. And it had been so long since she had seen him in a playful mood. Despite her vow to not let her heart get involved, she could not help smiling back at him. “All right. I agree.”

  All the same, she was a bit suspicious. He was looking far too pleased with himself as he set up the chessboard that night. It didn’t help that her nose had definitely gotten a bit sunburned that afternoon.

  Pa, napping by the fireplace, opened one eye to watch Matthew. “No gambling,” he warned.

  “Certainly not,” Matthew agreed. “Just a simple bargain.” He winked at Liza.

  It wasn’t fair. No matter how high she built a wall against him, he always got through her defenses. She couldn’t treat him as a complete stranger. Perhaps she should just regard him as a friend. It wasn’t as though he were being romantic, after all. This situation was completely different from their relationship on the trail. No hand-holding, no sweet-talking.

  She remembered one evening, when old man Harding had tuned up his violin and the younger couples had the energy to dance. The full moon rose, incredibly large and gold tinged, over some unnamed mountain range in Wyoming, providing enough light to see by. Matthew had held her in his arms, and they had danced until they were breathless.

  Now she was reduced to arguing with him over millinery. It was a different kind of relationship, not romantic in the least, but in a way, she found she liked arguing with him. That was safe. Playful, not serious. It had been a mistake to take him up to that little clearing on the ridge. Too serious, too honest, too emotional. Perhaps that was why he had turned away from her.

  She could come up with a thousand different explanations for his behavior, but the plain fact was that she had laid her heart bare and he had turned away. Rejected the claim and her along with it. Now he was making it clear that he regarded her as nothing more than a friend. Well, that was fine with her. Message understood, clear as any telegraph.

  Pa watched them play for a few moments, and then he grunted. “You two can stay up half the night if you’ve a mind to, but I’m going to go to bed. Got be up bright and early tomorrow morning if we’re going to make it to church on time.”

  Liza looked up. We? That sounded as if he meant to attend the service instead of dropping her off as usual. But she didn’t want to pressure him, so she changed the subject. “And you’ll talk to the Baron after services, find out what Mr. Brown was after when he came by here the other day?”

  “I’ll talk to him. Likely it wasn’t anything important, or I’d have remembered it.”

  Pa sounded definite, but then, he always did. He would never show any sign of doubt in front of her in any case. Daughters were supposed to be sheltered from the harsh realities of life. She sighed. Sometimes Pa and Matthew had a lot in common.

  To her annoyance, one of the other things they had in common was their ability to beat her at chess. Matthew did not even try to hide his satisfaction as he moved his queen into position and announced, “Checkmate.”

  “Fine. I’ll wear my bonnet tomorrow. Will that satisfy you?” She rose to her feet and began putting the chess pieces back in their box.

  The puff of laughter that escaped his lips sounded suspiciously like a snort. “Tomorrow is Sunday, remember? You were going to wear your bonnet in any case. You told me that you always wear one in town. No, this means you’ll have to wear a bonnet Monday, when we go back out into the fields.”

  “Humph.” She would have to find some other way to preserve her independence around this irritating man.

  “Well, good night.” He picked up the quilt and moved toward the door.

  She placed the chess set on the mantelpiece and turned. “Where are you going?”

  “There’s enough hay stored up in the loft of the barn that I will be able to bunk down there quite comfortably. It’ll be toasty warm. I’ve slept in worse conditions.” He paused. “At least, I think I have.”

  He probably wants to get as far away from me as he can. “I see. Good night, then.”

  Matthew reached for the door latch and then paused. Without turning toward her, he cleared his throat. “One more thing. I haven’t had any memories come back about why I left you that night without saying goodbye. But I think I can understand why I did it.” He took in a breath. He still did not look at her.

  Her gut tensed, waiting for the blow to land. He was going to tell her flat out that he must have never loved her.

  He spoke in a low tone that barely reached her above the crackling of a log settling down in the fireplace. “I think I must have left you a note because I had to go, and because I would not have been able to say goodbye to you in person. I would not have been able to leave you. I could not bear it.”

  Then he wrenched the door open and was gone before she could form a reply. The door shut after him, and she heard his footsteps moving off toward the barn, but she did not move. His words had left her emotions in such turmoil that she could not sort them out. Lord, whatever am I to do with this man? Why have You sent him to me? Help me to find the answers.

  The eastern sky was barely light when they started the trip into town the next day. Pa had slicked back his hair and put on his Sunday-best suit, which she hadn’t seen him wear in months.

  “Nice bonnet,” Matthew said as he handed her onto the seat next to Pa. There was barely room for him to squeeze in next to her. She did not respond to his pleasantry, and he gave her a sharp look. Then he reached out and squeezed her hand, a brief pressure before he released it again.

  The gesture helped settle her. She was wound too tightly, thinking about what lay ahead. No matter how often Pa had tried to reassure her that everything was going to be well, she had a bad feeling about his plan to meet with the Baron after the church services. Pa was too honest, too straightforward. Any deal that Mr. Brown had a hand in would be anything but honest.

  She had always tried to avoid Mr. Brown. Since the day they had met, she had been repelled by his hot, clammy hands and his sidelong way of smiling at her. Whenever he shook her hand, she had to fight an impulse to wipe it off afterward. Whatever mischief he had been brewing up, it probably was nothing that she couldn’t handle—as long as she saw it coming. He had a troublesome habit of going at everything sideways, and she feared that he would spring this on her without giving her any time to prepare.

  There was already a long row of wagons drawn up outside the church when Pa halted the horse. Matthew helped Liza down, and offered her his arm. “May I escort you, ma’am?”

  Pa stepped forward. “I will escort my daughter. People would think you two were courtin’.”

  Matthew dropped his arm, putting his hands behind his back instead. His cheeks burned red, and he avoided looking Liza in the eye. “My apologies,” he mumbled.

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t care what people think.”

  “Your reputation matters to me.”

  “And to me.” Pa glared at Matthew, then took Liza’s hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. She could feel him leaning on her for support, but he was able to hobble along well enough.

  She could feel eyes on her back as they proceeded down the aisle. People turned their heads to watch. She tried not to listen to the whisper of voices that sprang up in her wake; she could imagine well enough what they were saying. Instead, she kept her head high and sang the hymns as loud as anyone. Beside her, Matthew’s sonorous, deep voice harmonized with her soprano without missing a note. She had almost forgotten how much she had enjoyed singing with Matthew. Pa had a singing voice that would do a bullfrog proud.

  The preacher spoke well, and she knew she should have been paying atte
ntion, but her mind kept slipping back to that moment in the clearing instead. For just one second, she’d thought that everything might be all right between them once again, that the old Matthew had come back to her—and then in the next instant he had gone again.

  People kept leaving her, first Pa, then Matthew. There must be something inside her that drove them off. She felt that old sense of anger at Pa for going off to Oregon without her, at Matthew for leaving her without even saying goodbye. Lord, please help me to lay this anger aside. I need to let it go.

  * * *

  After the service had ended, Matthew and Liza waited until most of the people left so that Mr. Fitzpatrick could make his way down the aisle unimpeded. Outside, the congregation milled about. Apparently, this was the one time of the week that anyone had a chance to chat with their neighbors without the pressure of work, and the residents of Oregon City and the surrounding farms took full advantage of it. Liza was quickly surrounded by a swarm of younger men before she’d even gotten to the bottom of the church steps.

  Matthew’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed the louts. “Why do all those men want to talk to Liza so badly?”

  Mr. Fitzpatrick snorted. “They’re all single.”

  Matthew scowled. “I thought they’d all heard that Liza was engaged.”

  “You apparently made some kind of public declaration at the dry goods store that you had no intention of marrying my daughter. Mavis Boone has the busiest tongue this side of the Mississippi. I don’t think they’re worrying about you.”

  Well, he’d have to change that. For Liza’s sake, of course. He owed it to her to make sure that she wasn’t pestered by these idiots. He was only being thoughtful. He made his way to her side, accidentally leaning a bit heavily on the arm of one man who didn’t seem to realize he was blocking Matthew from Liza. She looked over at him with that sweet smile of hers again. It would have been more heartening if she hadn’t been smiling at those other men, as well. No wonder the fools were besotted.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend the Baron? I thought you wanted to talk to him especially.”

  She stiffened, taking in a deep breath. Then she nodded. “Yes. We need to get this over with.” She craned her head. “I don’t see him anywhere.”

  Matthew scanned over the heads of the crowd. “He’d be with Mr. Brown, I imagine. I don’t see him anywhere. But that young woman I met at the dry goods store is making her way straight toward us.”

  Liza groaned. “Mavis always has to hear the latest news, so she can make sure she tells it to everyone else.”

  The other woman pounced on her and Matthew with obvious glee. “Have you heard? Someone’s set another fire.” Her small eyes flickered from Matthew to Liza and back again, prying, trying to read meaning in how closely they stood together. He doubted this Mavis was concerned about the fires. It was just a pretext to talk to them.

  “I thought those fires were just the natives burning their fields, like they always do after their harvest,” Liza said.

  “They weren’t growing camas in Mr. Johnstone’s cornfield.” Mavis drew herself up, almost bursting with the importance of being in a position to know more about gossip than anyone else. “And Doc Graham, there weren’t no camas growing in his wagon when he came out of his house and found it burning.”

  “Mischief, perhaps? I’m afraid we can’t really discuss it at the moment. We need to go find my pa.”

  “Oh, he’s over talking with Mr. Brown and the Baron,” Mavis said brightly.

  “What on earth? Please excuse us.” Liza took Matthew’s arm. “We need to speak to them.” As they moved off, she said in an undertone, “I can’t believe Pa slipped off to talk to the Baron without telling me. This matter concerns me just as much as it does him. He keeps wanting to shelter me from anything unpleasant, even if it does mean leaving me in the dark.” She darted a look up at Matthew and then turned away again.

  Mr. Fitzpatrick was on the plank sidewalk outside the mercantile store, deep in conversation with the Baron. Mr. Brown hovered in the background, but Liza did not spare him a glance. She narrowed her eyes at her pa.

  He acknowledged her with a brief nod before turning to the Baron. “Hughes, have you met my new hired hand?”

  The Baron, an older man with a weathered face and a manner as self-possessed as any Boston Brahmin, looked Matthew over. Matthew in his turn looked the other man straight in the eye. Matthew must have passed muster, for the Baron said, “I have not made the gentleman’s acquaintance.” He extended a hand, and Matthew shook it. “I must confess, I am surprised to see you standing here today. I understood you were quite clear about your need to leave as soon as possible.”

  “As soon as I have repaid my debt to Miss Fitzpatrick,” Matthew corrected. No need to give the man any information about his hope to stay on the claim beyond that. “I am helping the Fitzpatricks get their crops harvested.”

  “I see.” The Baron’s tone was difficult to interpret, his expression calm but reserved, as if withholding judgment for the moment. He really did seem to think he was the reigning monarch of this territory.

  Mr. Fitzpatrick looked at Liza and then shifted his eyes away again. “Mr. Brown was just reminding me that our talk the other day...was about putting up a new road across the flat part of our claim, so Mr. Hughes can haul his logs across our claim to the main road.”

  Liza drew in her breath sharply. “Pa, that would take out the best growing area.”

  Her pa did not look any more enthused. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” he mumbled. “The man made it sound like a deal that would work out for both sides. Made sense at the time... I think. And we need the money.”

  “We need money at the moment, but we’ll earn it once we harvest the crops. We’ll never make this claim a success if we built a road across the best farming acreage.”

  Mr. Brown said, in his insidious, soft voice, “Your pa made a bargain here. A binding contract.”

  Matthew said, “Do you have something in writing?”

  “It doesn’t have to be in writing,” Mr. Brown snapped. An ugly flush stained his cheekbones, and he narrowed his pale eyes at Matthew. “It was an agreement between gentlemen.” Somehow, his tone implied that Matthew would not be counted among that group.

  Matthew smiled at the man. This was familiar ground, arguing a point against an opponent. He was pleased when his smile seemed to rattle Mr. Brown more. “It was an idle conversation between two men. Nothing in writing. Very difficult to pin down exact recollections of the details in such a conversation. No court would enforce it.”

  Mr. Brown flushed a still deeper shade of red. Liza, on the other hand, was looking at him with her eyes shining. That made it worth sticking his nose into this affair.

  The Baron, surprisingly, was also regarding Matthew with approval. “Your new hired hand has unexpected skills, it seems.”

  “He’s a lawyer,” Liza said.

  “I was a lawyer,” Matthew amended. “I left my practice in Illinois to come out here.” Hopefully the other man would not press for more details than that.

  The Baron raised his eyebrows a fraction. “Indeed? That is exactly the kind of man we need out in this new territory of ours. Perhaps you could join us in settling an issue.” He looked over at Pa. “Abernethy was wanting to get some of the oldest settlers together, present a petition about those mission claims. Do you have a few moments to speak with him?”

  Mr. Brown stood straighter. “I’ve been thinking about that, sir. I have a few thoughts I could share.”

  The Baron waved a hand. “You go enjoy yourself, Brown. Entertain Miz Fitzpatrick here.”

  Mr. Brown’s mouth turned down at the corners, as if he had just bitten into something unexpectedly sour. “Yes, sir. Good idea, sir. I was hoping to speak to her today.”

  Standing next to her, Matthew could feel Liza
stiffen, though the only visible sign of her disquiet was the way she gripped her hands together at her waist. “If you must.”

  “I can stay with you, if you’d like.” He did not like the hungry expression in Mr. Brown’s eyes when he looked at Liza. It made him uneasy.

  Liza turned to face him. “There’s no need. I can look after myself.” She did not actually say as I did this past year, but he caught the implication anyway.

  Mr. Fitzpatrick tugged at his sleeve. “Might as well let the man have his say. There’s no harm in it with all these people milling about.”

  This was no doubt true, but Matthew didn’t think she should have to stand up for herself. He should do something to help her. But Liza had turned away, so Matthew reluctantly allowed himself to be caught up in the wake of her pa and the Baron.

  Once inside the mercantile store, however, he positioned himself near the window so that he could still keep an eye on Liza where she stood on the sidewalk facing Mr. Brown. He could rejoin them in just a few steps, if there was a need.

  Except that he had only just taken up his watch post when a man spoke to him. “Mr. Dean?” It was Frank Dawson, the sheriff. “There’s a man I need you to see. Says he knows you from before, down in California. I think you’ll want to talk to him.”

  * * *

  Liza remained rigidly upright. Matthew and Pa were just a few steps away. She would keep this conversation short and join them. There was no reason to feel afraid. Nevertheless, a chill crept along her spine as if someone had poured cold water down her back. Being this close to Mr. Brown made her want to scrub her skin until it was raw. She pressed her lips together. “What do you need, Mr. Brown?”

  Those oddly pale green eyes studied her intently. “I do not like the idea of that man staying out at your place.”

  “It’s nothing to do with you.”

  He laid a hand on her arm. She took a step back, but his hold did not loosen. “I was there that morning,” Mr. Brown reminded her. “I heard what he told you. He has no intention of marriage. Not the type of man you would wish to associate with, my dear.”