A Deal with the Cowboy’s Tangled Heart: A Historical Western Romance Book

by Cassidy Hanton

  “You know,” she thought suddenly, “You should come greet my father. He would like to meet you, I’m sure. Especially after all you did for him yesterday. Then I could ask him about teaching you. I know you weren’t certain of it yesterday, but once you meet him, you’ll see what a great teacher he is.”

  Chester hesitated before taking a small step backwards. It was hardly noticeable, but Blossom wondered what it meant. “Thank you, but I would hate to intrude. Perhaps another time.”

  “Oh.” Blossom rocked on her heels as she tried to think of something else to say. But she couldn’t think of something. Chester’s hesitation stuck to her like a heavy blanket that she could hardly breathe under. Her chest grew tight and she glanced at her horse before realizing she was probably being rude. Chester had better things to do than talk with her all day.

  Taking a step back, she forced a smile. “Well, it was nice to see you again, Chester. I should go. Thank you for, well, everything.”

  “Farewell,” Chester tipped his hat to her slowly before she turned back toward the schoolhouse and left him behind.

  Blossom didn’t know what it was, but she had the strangest feeling that she was missing something important. It felt like all the world knew a secret that she did not. She glanced over her shoulder several times on her walk to find Chester still watching her. He would wave every time.

  It weighed on her as she climbed the small hill back to the schoolhouse. There were children laughing loudly as they scrambled to get inside and take a seat.

  Her father was at the door, watching her as she arrived. He had a grin for every child that came in.

  But when she grew closer with Merryweather right behind her, he marched right over with a dark expression. Blossom stopped in surprise since she hadn’t seen him frown like that at her in a long time.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” he informed her sternly. “I don’t want you talking to dangerous people.”

  “What?” Blossom glanced behind her. “I simply talked to Chester.”

  “I don’t care what he calls himself,” her father insisted. He huffed and shook his head. Then he rubbed his hands together, a nervous habit she thought that he had gotten over. “I don’t care. But he’s a dangerous man and I don’t want you talking to him. You shouldn’t even look at him, all right?”

  Blossom looked over her shoulder to find that Chester had left. He was no longer by the wagon waving at her. She thought of her father’s words and hesitated. “Father, Chester is the one who saved your life. He brought you to the doctor and brought you home when I couldn’t lift you.”

  She turned back to see her father’s eyebrows raised in surprise. He glanced down the hill for a second before shaking his head. “That doesn’t matter,” he informed her. “Blossom, stay away from him. He’s a dangerous man. Now, put Merryweather in the meadow and join me in the school, please.”

  Not knowing what else to do, Blossom obeyed.

  As she walked, her eyes turned toward town. She didn’t see Chester again, but she couldn’t help it as she wondered what her father could possibly mean.

  Chapter Nine

  Chester’s Isolation

  “Here, let me.” Chester helped Betty with her bundle of fabric when she walked out of the store only moments after Blossom turned away from him.

  He had just been thinking about how pretty the girl was but quickly changed his focus to his neighbor.

  The older woman chuckled. Her tight gray curls all over her f ace danced as she gave him a look.

  “Thank you, dear. As though I need a reminder of how old I am getting.” He grinned, knowing it to be a lighthearted joke. “There’s one more bundle. I’ll get that for you.”

  He rolled his eyes. Arthur and Betty Bretts were the kindest people he had ever known. They were friendly, helpful, and supportive in a way that Chester hadn’t known people could be. He owed them his life for all that they had taught him as his neighbors over the last five years. From learning how to cook, fix the roof, and be generous, he had become a better man because of them.

  They could also be stubborn, however, which could cause problems. Betty had developed hip problems a year ago and insisted on forgetting about the limp.

  Chester set the fabric down in the cart he had driven them in, worried about letting them be on their own running errands and potentially carrying heavy items, and hurried after her. He didn’t want her getting hurt again or putting herself at risk. Back into the haberdashery he went to help her with her load.

  It was one of the smaller shops in town, but still busy as ever. Spring always made everyone want to work on new projects and dress nicely. He, on the other hand, didn’t see any need for having more than what was sufficient. But he didn’t mind others so long as they didn’t mind him. That was hard to do, however, since he could feel the stares on him from the moment he stepped inside.

  The main one came from Robert Jakes. He had recently taken over the shop and had grown popular with his ability to hear everything in town. Even Betty had complained about his gossiping. For Betty Bretts to complain about anyone, it had to be serious.

  Chester kept his head down as he found Betty at the counter, fumbling with another bundle of dark fabric. She had mentioned something about wanting her husband to have a new suit for the summer, so he supposed that’s what that cloth would eventually become. But no matter its use, it looked heavy in her arms. He hurried over to her.

  “I’ll take that,” he assured her.

  She was just giving him a mischievous smile when Mr. Jakes came around from the back on the other side of the counter. “Now see here!” He hollered. “Don’t you go stealing that woman’s material! My doors are not open to thieves. Give that woman her purchase back immediately! Someone call the sheriff over!”

  That wasn’t true. But Chester looked at the fabric in his hands and saw how someone could believe that. His throat dried up as he tried to think of a defense.

  This wasn’t the first time that had happened. He instinctively bent his knees ready to run, but then reminded himself that he wasn’t living that life anymore.

  Chester gritted his teeth, saying nothing. Most folks prepared to get riled up, after all, and he never seemed to know the right words to calm anyone down. It was best for him to wait there for the sheriff and hope that he could be believed again. But if this kept happening, he realized, someday he might get stuck behind those bars.

  Dread was just reaching down into his stomach when Betty started to laugh. “Who, Chester? Robert Jakes, don’t be absurd. You’re a fool if you think he’s a thief. He’s helping me with my purchase since it’s heavy.”

  Then she stopped her chuckling short to give him a look. “If he’s anything, he’s a gentleman. Never mind the sheriff. Let’s go, Chester, dear.” Betty kept her head up high as she marched right out of the store without another word.

  Chester didn’t know what to say to that. The shop had quieted when Mr. Jakes started talking. Stealing a glance at to the shopkeeper, he found the man red in the face with angry disbelief. But he didn’t say a word.

  Not wanting to risk more trouble, Chester ducked his head and hurried out after Betty. He moved quickly and quietly out of the store with his eyes down until he reached the wagon. He gripped the fabric tightly before glancing up. Betty was fixing her bonnet as she studied the street with pursed lips.

  “That man,” she huffed. “Why, I don’t see how he can walk into church every Sunday and call himself a good man.”

  That was all she had to say about it. Chester’s lips quirked as he studied her for a minute. That was the meanest thing he’d ever heard her say and he doubted she would ever say anything else so mean. Even though it was hardly that mean. He had heard kids on the streets say things twice as rude.

  “You’re a good person,” Chester told her after a minute. Then he settled her cloth carefully into the wagon on top of a blanket. “Thank you for that.”

  She looked up at him with her dark eye
s and sharp gaze. Her face was lined with wrinkles from a life well lived, and she loved that. One of the first times he had talked with them, she had spent the evening proud of every line that she had earned.

  “You have no reason to put up with that nonsense,” Betty reminded him. Her tone was soft but firm. “I don’t know why you do. No one knows who you are, do they? Making up ideas and spreading them around. We don’t need snake tongues making lies before the Lord. You’re a good man doing good things. He didn’t need to do that.”

  Chester sighed as he glanced back at the shop they had just left. Two women were stepping outside. When they caught him looking, their brows wrinkled with distaste. Dirty looks were all he ever received when he was in town. He tried not to go often, though lately he’d needed to offer more help to Arthur and Betty. He turned away from the rude looks as he shrugged at Betty.

  “I’m not perfect,” Chester reminded her. “I haven’t always been a good person.”

  “No one has,” Betty retorted. “Now where is Arthur? He better not be at the bakery. I just made us that pie. Your favorite, Chester, so I hope you didn’t have any supper plans.”

  That made him chuckle. “The only plans I have are fixing your roof, remember?”

  Betty gave him a wink before she spotted Arthur coming out of the bakery. She whistled at him, calling him over. They had the rest of their purchases in the wagon already. Though Arthur claimed he hadn’t bought anything from the bakery, Betty playfully scolded her husband as Chester drove them home.

  He listened to them along the way, wondering how two people could be so happy together. They were always finding something new to talk about and laugh about.

  They had met a little later in life, they had told him a few years ago, but they had known immediately that they wanted to be together. Both of them had been previously married to another who had since passed away. They each had a child who had left home early. Betty’s daughter had moved to Boston and Arthur’s son had followed after the gold rush. They still received letters a few times a year from the children.

  After meeting one another when Arthur came from Texas to get away from the painful loss of his wife, they had married after five days. He had been living at the inn and had merely meant to pass through.

  “The rest of my plans turned to dust the moment I laid eyes on my Betty,” Arthur had explained to Chester.

  Betty still lived on the small piece of property that her late husband had left her, so Arthur had moved right in. They had been in their early forties. That was nearly thirty years ago now, and they were stronger together than ever before.

  Chester wondered for the hundredth time how the two of them had been so fortunate as he pulled up around their home. He helped the two of them down before removing the harnesses from both horses. Brushing them down, he kept an eye on Arthur who took the heavy loads into the house, with Betty limping along teasing him as she went. After the horses were fed and watered, Chester followed after them to the kitchen door.

  “You don’t need to knock,” Arthur reminded him when he stepped inside.

  He gave her a sheepish smile. “It’s the polite thing to do.”

  Betty chortled as she shook her head. “You and your manners, boy. It’s a silly thing for you to hold onto. Now, supper will be ready in an hour or so, so you should wash up.”

  “Wash up?” Arthur chuckled. “He’s got to do something until then. No boy stays clean for more than a minute. And I should know. I am one.”

  With a shake of his head, Chester grinned at them. He accepted the drink of water that Betty offered him and then gestured to the bucket that was catching the water droplets that still fell from the roof. “Thank you, but I do have something to do. Your roof, remember? I’ll come back down afterward.”

  “Do be careful,” Betty ordered. “Arthur, perhaps you should go hold the ladder for him. I don’t want him falling.”

  “It’s all right,” Chester shook his head. “But thank you. Stay settled and relax. I told you I would have that roof finished and it’s about time I kept my word. Thank you for the water, ma’am.”

  She tutted as she took the cup back. “You and those manners. You’re too charming for your own good, boy. All right, but only because you insist. Make sure you get yourself nice and hungry then. I’m making extra so I can get some meat on those bones of yours.”

  He gathered up the tiles and headed outside with a smile on his face. The Bretts were a lovely couple who could always put him in a good mood. They were playful and sweet, always treating him like another human being. He loved to hear them just talk to each other, pretending to argue before kissing each other. They continued to surprise him almost every time he went over to see them.

  Chester’s thoughts wandered as he worked on their roof, carefully hammering in the new tiles and covering them with a paint Betty had made for him. It was supposed to help with the water, she had told him, having heard about it from some ladies at church, and keep a roof stronger so the shingles were less likely to fall apart. It smelled terrible, but he didn’t mind. If it would help the Bretts, he would do it.

  For their old age, the couple were still as active as they could be, walking around and taking care of their grove of trees. They were always doing something and doing it together.

  He finished up just as the sun began to set. After putting the tools away, Chester washed up and joined the Bretts inside for supper. Every bite was delicious. At the end, he didn’t win the fight with Betty to take the leftover bread. So he waited for her to wrap it up in a towel, and hand it over to him before he left for the night.

  “Be safe,” she called as he headed out.

  It was five yards to the gate between their properties, and then a quarter mile to his own house. The walk only took a couple of minutes, but he appreciated Betty’s gesture. He turned and waved, his heart warmed at the sight of her smile before disappearing inside her cozy home. She had made it a lovely place with curtains and warmth.

  Chester stepped into his own house with its dark shutters and silence. He lit a candle and sat down in his chair. There were only two of them. He kept meaning to make another, but lately hadn’t felt like it.

  It was too early for bed, nor was he tired. His chores had been handled early that day since he knew he would spend most of it with the Bretts. But now Chester looked around, trying to find something to do.

  The cheer and warmth he had felt at the Bretts slowly faded.

  A table and two chairs were mostly all he had in the kitchen beyond a few cabinets to hold food and pots. There was a large fireplace that looked out of place because he rarely took advantage of it. Usually it felt like too much work to move chairs across the room, so he didn’t use it often.

  There was a back porch he liked to sit on when the weather was nice, but otherwise he just used his house for shelter against the elements. It had taken him three years to bother making a bed frame instead of always using his bedrolls. He had mostly built that because Betty was always gifting him blankets for holidays and he didn’t know where else to put them. A bed made sense so he had made one to use.

  His fingers danced silently across the tabletop as he looked around. His home was far from the busy streets in town, so it was quiet and peaceful. It was just the way he liked it. This way he was never bothered and he was left at peace to do as he desired.

  Except now, Chester wasn’t tired. He didn’t know what to do. He sat there for a few minutes before his legs started to grow antsy, too.

  It had been a while since he had taken a nightly walk. Chester hesitated only for a moment before pulling himself up to his feet. There were a lot of thoughts on his mind. Perhaps if he did some walking on his own, he could clear his head. The hat was left behind but he grabbed his jacket before boarding his door and heading down the lane.

  Shoving his hands in his pockets, Chester watched the stars come out and twinkle. He had always admired them, enjoying the way they insisted on shining among all the blackness.
It reminded him there was hope and no one was ever really alone. He liked the idea, anyways.

  His feet led him around aimlessly through town as it grew quiet, and beyond. On most walks he liked to take a new path. It was important to know the area, and when no one was around he felt free to go where he wished. No one bothered him then.

  Chester was just coming upon a large pond, trying to remember if he had been there before, when he heard a soft sound.

  There had been other noises so far. Sometimes he shuffled his feet along and he could hear that. Small animals on the ground skittered about on occasion. There were owls flying and hooting in the skies. The soft breeze whistled when it passed through the bushes and trees. He had heard a few horses, a few voices, but he hadn’t heard crying before.

  It was there by the pond that he found the source.