A Deal with the Cowboy’s Tangled Heart
A Western Historical Romance
Cassidy Hanton
Contents
A Thank You Gift
About the book
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
Preview: A Courageous Bride to Bring Him Hope
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Also by Cassidy Hanton
About the Author
A Thank You Gift
Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because this is the best way to show me your love.
As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you called Finding the Broken Cowboy. It’s only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping this link here.
Again, thank you ever so much for your continuous love and support!
Cassidy Hanton
About the book
But how can she forget him, when he taught her how to live and love…
Kind and loving, Blossom Everett has always been bright like a ray of the Texan sunshine.
Despite her traumatic past, she spends her days tending to her aging father with a smile. Everything changes when she’s forced to revisit distant memories, triggered by a charming cowboy that comes to her rescue.
Lonely and lost, Chester Lornson isn't who he wants to be. As an outcast, escaping from his past has proven to be harder than he ever expected. His life takes a turn when he meets the one woman who sees him for who he really is.
But family reunions are not always happy, especially when death follows them. When Blossom gets caught in the middle of a revenge plan, Chester has to act fast. The nightmarish face of her mother’s death has returned. And this time, it’s here for her...
Prologue
1875: Blossom’s Birthday
Livingsfield was a decidedly fine Texas town.
Granted, Blossom had never been anywhere else, but she enjoyed living there. Her heart pattered happily as she skipped her way through the town square.
“Blossom,” her mother called from the livery stable. “Wait a moment, won’t you? We need a new saddle blanket for your father.”
She turned back and made a silly face. “I’ll be right here.” Her mother laughed and waved her off before disappearing into the stables to talk to Old Joe.
In the meantime, Blossom glanced around to find anything new.
Her eighteenth birthday had just arrived and her parents had said she could make a fine purchase. There wasn’t much that she wanted, however, so she had to be very careful about what she decided upon. But what will it be? Her eyes wandered around the shops.
Bonnets and shoes and ribbons. She had enough of those. They were not grand enough for a birthday gift.
Except she didn’t know what she really wanted. Just thinking of everything she had at home left her content. They weren’t a particularly well-to-do family, for her father was the town schoolteacher, but they had saved up to get her something.
It had to be something special.
Farmer Glen Hopkins was by the butcher’s store handling crates. He nodded to her as she passed by. “Well, haven’t you turned into a pretty miss? My boy Junior said you’re looking well. What if I said he could come around to visit you sometime?”
A blush rose into her cheeks. Though she was of marrying age at eighteen, she didn’t fancy herself ready for a courtship. “I’d say he’s a little overeager,” Blossom said before she could help herself.
He burst out laughing. Resting a hand over his large stomach, the man threw his head back. “Oh, what a lass! Wait until my Junior hears about this!” He hooted merrily.
“I didn’t mean any harm,” she added hastily. Her mother was always telling her that she let her tongue keep too sharp. “Only I…”
But he waved her off. “Don’t you worry, Miss. You’ll find someone good, I’m sure of that. There must be some boys in town sharp enough for you, eh?”
Blossom opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say. Her eyes dropped to the crates at his feet. Farmer Hopkins, as he liked to call himself, had one particular crate filled with ducklings.
The ducklings were small and yellow. Her heart surged with hope. I know exactly what I want in celebration of my birthday.
“Blossom?” She could hear her mother calling from nearby.
Blossom looked up and pointed to the crate. “Mother! Can I have a duck?”
“A duck?” Her mother repeated as she walked closer. “Whatever would you need a duck for?”
Farmer Hopkins followed Blossom’s gaze and then nudged the crate closer. “They’re just ducks, Miss. Noisy little things. They make a fine stew but can be a little stringy.”
Staring at him, Blossom pursed her lips. “Not for food! That’s ghastly, Mr. Hopkins. No, no. A pet.” She turned to her mother hopefully. The basket she carried hung at her elbow as she put her hands over her heart. “I want one as a pet. Please? As my gift. I’ll tend to it all on my own.”
“A duck serves no purpose,” her mother reminded her. She hefted her purchases with a sigh as she shook her head. “I don’t think your father will want another creature. You already have two goats, Blossom. Whatever is a duck going to do?”
Blossom grinned as she spotted a particularly ruffled duckling who was quite noisy. She scooped him up in her hands. “Isn’t he charming? We have a pond. A pond should have a duck, should it not?”
It quacked loudly in her face and made her grin wider at her mother.
The woman sighed as she glanced up at the farmer who simply shrugged. “Fine. I suppose. But you’re explaining this to your father,” she added.
Blossom winked. “Yes, Mother.” Then she squealed. “Thank you!” The duckling quacked loudly and she laughed. Her day couldn’t grow any better if she tried.
“It is rather charming,” her mother reluctantly agreed as they started back on their way home from the town square. She eyed the duckling Blossom had set carefully in her basket. The little thing had now quieted down and was nestled in for a nap.
Blossom beamed.
She was so focused on the little creature during their walk that she didn’t notice why her mother had suddenly stopped in the middle of an alleyway.
“What is…?” The words were lost as she realized they weren’t alone. She glanced at her stiff mother and then at the strange men surrounding them. Her throat dried up.
It was a well-lit alley just past the livery stable and the bank that the two of them liked to cross through on their way home. There were never people there and never any problem with the shortcut.
But now, there were several men bloc
king their path. They were tall, dressed in dark colors, and wore bandanas over their faces. Blossom shivered.
“Good afternoon.” Her mother forced through a locked jaw. She took a step in front of Blossom to block her. “Please let us through.”
“Give us your goods,” the man charged them in a low tone. “Your money and your jewelry.”
A small gasp escaped her lips before she could help herself. Blossom gripped her basket tightly as she tried to look over her mother’s shoulder. There are so many of them. Her heart started pumping. Their town never had any trouble. It didn’t make sense for anyone to rob them.
“All we have is cheese and this blanket.” Her mother spoke in a cautious tone. “If we give this to you, will you let us go?”
The men laughed as though it were a joke. Blossom didn’t understand. She looked around fearfully as she realized there were more men behind her. Gasping in surprise, she bumped into her mother who dropped everything in her arms.
“Oh,” she stammered, grabbing her mother’s elbow to catch her balance again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”
“Stay back!” the man yelled, making both women jump. The two men on foot beside him started forward.
They were so tall and threatening. Blossom clutched her basket, pulling her mother close. “Mother?”
“Leave my daughter alone!”
Someone grabbed at Blossom’s basket as someone gripped her left shoulder. She screamed in both surprise and fright. The world spun as she fell hard on her back. The air was knocked out of her lungs.
There was shouting and scuffling. She thought she heard her mother, but nothing sounded right. It was all muffled.
Tasting dust on her lips, Blossom tried to stand. But her bonnet was sideways and she couldn’t quite tell which way was up. She choked on her words as she felt around in the dirt.
“Mother?” She hiccuped.
A shot rang out and she stopped moving. Blossom stopped breathing.
There was a shout. It sounded unfamiliar so she didn’t move. But someone brushed against her, nearly knocking her down again. Dazed, she blinked as the world stopped spinning and she could see the clouds above her.
It took her a minute to realize that the only one to answer her call was a soft quacking by her feet.
Chapter One
1875-1880: Chester’s Change of Heart
There was blood under his nails.
A sour acidic taste settled in Chester’s mouth as he glanced around him at the river’s edge as the other men washed themselves up. They were all vigorously washing their hands and faces clean as they laughed and elbowed one another without another care in the world.
“Hurry up.” A splash of water hit him in the corner of his eye.
Chester shook his head and washed his face before glancing up. He knew it would be his brother Lowry with that wicked grin on his face. Lowry was older than him by three years at twenty-eight and had always been there to help him when they were growing up.
Now he was grinning as though nothing had happened.
He wanted to speak up, but Chester didn’t know how or what he would say. Why didn’t anyone talk about what just happened? No one had to use a gun before. Tongue-tied, he managed a short nod. Anything red had already been washed away. But that iron smell remained. It had been haunting him all along the way back to Davidshill.
No one was supposed to get hurt.
That’s what he remembered Elijah, their leader, telling him when they first started. He said these were harmless crimes. Take a little here and a little there from people who didn’t really need it. After all, people cared about sharing with their neighbors.
So the seven of them were just getting a head start.
When Lowry stood up, it took everything Chester had to not flinch. His brother was looking more like their father every day. The memories of their old man towering over him with a tight fist would never go away. Five years but I still feel those punches in my gut every day. I wonder if Lowry ever thinks of him.
“Come on. We’re playing dice for the blanket,” Elijah, their leader, whistled. His voice rang out loud and clear, pulling Chester from his bitter memories.
He shook his hands free of the river, spraying droplets. His brother nudged him before grabbing both their horses’ reins to join the rest of the men.
The lot of them had taken over an old ranch house that had been deserted some time ago. Home for the last five years, Chester knew it wasn’t much but it was enough for their brotherhood.
It sat right against the tall mountains so that it was fairly well hidden and protected. To the side was an old but spacious barn with plenty of tack and supplies for anything they might need. There was enough space to let their horses have range of the nearby fields. And there was plenty of room in the old attic to hide any and all of the loot they gathered.
The men started up toward the property from the river. Elijah started talking with Henley and Lowry as the other three, the O'Leary twins and Three-Eyed Tom, caroused with one another singing and laughing.
Usually Chester would have joined them. All of them walked tall with their chests out and their guns hanging loose at their waists. They all appeared carefree and content.
But the bitter taste would not leave Chester’s mouth even as he started a fire for their coffee.
Adrenaline still rushed through his veins and he knew on any normal occasion he would be wrestling with the twins and bragging about how much he could barter for their goods in town. Part of him still wanted to go off and join in the merriment.
Everyone else was thrilled over another job well done. But this time was different. How can they do it? Someone just died and they’re pretending it's a party.
“Chester?” Someone whistled to him so he looked up to find Three-Eyed Tom in the hall holding a couple of knives in each hand. “Come on! I’m getting better. Let’s get some practice in before dark.”
Hesitating, Chester glanced at the boiling water. “Not today. I’ll handle the drinks.”
That made Tom scoff. “Drinks? Come on. Coffee doesn’t take much. And you know everyone’s going to be drinking tonight. We have that barrel of mead.”
He liked his mead, but that acidic scent remained, and so he shook his head. There was something new haunting him, hovering overhead like a dark cloud.
“Maybe tomorrow,” Chester offered.
The other man left, shrugging before heading out the door. Chester heard the men whoop and head out to throw knives. Everyone had a few scars from that thrill, but somehow, he had a feeling that the sight of blood was going to make him sick.
Chester watched the gang in silence for the rest of the day.
He was already the quiet one of the group, so no one mentioned his sober attitude. They didn’t know what was going on inside his head. Though he had been grateful for all that the men did for him, now he found himself wondering where he had gone wrong.
They had crossed a line, but no one seemed to notice. He wondered how they weren’t as haunted as he felt.
Chester supposed he would be grateful that the day had come to an end. But as he laid down on his bedroll in the barn loft, having chosen a place to rest near the animals at night, Chester could hardly lie still.
That woman appeared in a pool of blood every time he closed his eyes. No matter how much he tossed and turned, she was still there.
“Chester?”
He froze when his brother, just around the corner, spoke up in the dark. “Yeah, Elijah?”
“Stop moving.”
Chester forced himself to be still. But he didn’t sleep all that night. He forced himself to stay still but there wasn’t much more he could do. So with the time he had on his hands, he made a plan.
He couldn’t stay any longer. He couldn’t live pretending nothing was wrong.
Though he considered them family and he loved his brother, the idea of becoming like them filled him with dread. None of them could even use the goods they had stole
n, merely taking them to trade for something else. It had been pointless to hurt that woman. That mother.
A Deal with the Cowboy’s Tangled Heart: A Historical Western Romance Book Page 1