by Woods, Emily
Falls Creek Western Romance Boxed Set
Books 1 - 3
Emily Woods
Fairfield Publishing
Copyright © 2018 Emily Woods
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Except for review quotes, this book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written consent of the author.
This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental.
Contents
An Unconventional Love
Lessons of Love
A Faithful Love
Thank You
Bonus Content: Story Preview
An Unconventional Love
Chapter 1
Coleman Reynolds stepped off the train and drank in the sights of Great Falls, Montana. The squat buildings resembled those of a hundred towns along the way from east to west, but these burgeoned with the promises he’d cherished for the past five years.
People bustled about in the streets, pausing to stop and greet a friend or smile at a child. A few older men stood around speaking vehemently on some unknowable subject. The dusty streets didn’t bother Coleman, not at all. He rejoiced in the sight of them.
Even the air was sweeter here, cooler and fresher than back in Philadelphia. He’d left the place where he'd been born and raised without a backward glance. His face bore the distinct look of faint pleasure, if not a full smile. He was here on a mission, one that had been forming in his mind for many years. After finally receiving his inheritance, his goal was within reach.
“Your horse is ready,” the conductor informed him, pointing to the end of the platform. “Have a good day.”
Cole, as he preferred to be called, nodded at the man and thanked him. Eagerly, he walked toward where his horse was being held. As he approached, a spontaneous smile now formed on his face. Black Knight, Knight for short, was his one consolation in the world. He had lost his parents when he was young, enduring years of neglect and indifference, but his horse, the stallion that he'd insisted on having when he was sixteen, was his loyal companion. He’d sorely missed him on the nearly week-long ride over. The brief visits he was allowed at stops were not enough. Spending time with Knight brought peace to his belligerent spirit.
Knight bobbed his head up and down as Cole approached, a standard greeting, and then snuffed at his pockets for a treat, which Cole quickly delivered. The horse whinnied in gratitude and then gave him a slight nip on the shoulder. It didn’t hurt, and Cole only laughed. It was Knight’s way of expressing excitement.
As he led the horse away from the train, his mind flickered back to the day he’d bought the animal. His grandparents had balked at the idea of his buying a stallion, sure that the horse would be difficult, but Cole had insisted and even paid for the animal himself. They couldn't understand why he didn't want a gelding, or better yet, a mare. It was hard to explain, but in the absence of a father or even an approving father figure, he wanted a strong horse, one that would be capable of breeding one day if he wanted.
Surprisingly, Knight was not an aggressive horse, especially not with him. In many ways, he was more like a dog, following his master's every movement and seeking to please him. The relationship was reciprocated. Cole was devoted to Knight.
“Sorry about that, boy,” he murmured, stroking the horse's white muzzle. It was the only part of him that wasn't black aside from a bit of coloring on his hind legs. “If things go as planned, you won't ever have to ride inside a train again. I certainly don't want to either.”
He walked the horse toward the road and slung his traveling bag behind the saddle, tying it tight. The rest of his meager belongings were still in storage back in Philadelphia. He would send for them when he was sure of his future, but for now, all he needed was in this bag.
“Do you know the best way to get to Triple Range Ranch?” he asked the first man to cross his path as he stepped into the dusty streets of the city.
“Sure I do,” the older man replied. Cole listened carefully to the instructions, then thanked the man somberly. After stopping for a quick bite at the town's hotel, he was on his way to the ranch he hoped would prove to be the path to the fulfillment of his dream.
Although he was anxious, he didn’t hurry on his way. The ride was spectacular and more than enjoyable on this crisp spring morning. He paused every now and then to breathe deeply and simply take in his surroundings. Every so often, there was a stinging behind his eyes, so emotional was he at finally being in the place he’d been dreaming about for years. The West had been in his heart ever since he’d met an old cowboy in the barber shop where he’d been working part-time. The man had regaled him for hours about tales of the wild country. Old James, as he was called by his friends, had been forced to come east by his daughter, who had cited his poor health as the reason.
“Well, Knight, we’re finally here. So far, it’s everything I imagined.”
The horse nickered as though in agreement. They stood in the knee-deep grass just off the path, luxuriating in the sun’s rays and breathing in the clean air.
“Can’t get that in Philly,” he informed no one in particular.
Less than two hours later, he spied a large house nestled into the lush valley. The spring rains must have been abundant to create such a verdant paradise. At least, that was how it looked to him. He'd never been a city boy, not in his heart, and had strained at the education his uncle had subjected him to, insisting it was his parents’ wishes. He didn’t believe that. His father had been a warm man, generous in nature as well as with his finances.
Although he'd been good in school, he hadn't enjoyed it. The long windows had looked out onto the street, but he'd always tried to imagine that just beyond the concrete buildings lay forests, streams, fields, and mountains. Of course, there weren't such things in the heart of the city, but his mind never stopped dreaming.
Now, his dream had become a reality. Here he was, minutes away from hopefully becoming the newest ranch hand on the famous Triple Range Ranch, the one Old James had told him about. He’d passed numerous ranches on the way out, but this one was his goal.
As he neared, it seemed like a better idea to approach the barn first, instead of the house. In the middle of the afternoon, the owner wouldn't likely be inside. He'd either be out riding or working in the barn.
It didn't take long to find someone who looked to be in charge. Was this the owner? James had already told him the name.
“Morning,” he called out. “I'm looking for Luke Winston. Do you know where I could find him?”
“Who's asking?” the man replied, tipping his battered hat back to get a better look at the newcomer.
“Name's Cole Reynolds,” he replied evenly, sensing that this was not the man he was looking for. “I'm looking for a job.”
The man inspected him a little more closely, his brows lowering and a shadow of a frown appearing on his face.
“You might get down from your horse and look me in the eye,” he declared lightly. “I'm John Porter, the foreman and one in charge of hiring.”
Quick as lightning, Cole slid off Knight's back and stuck out his hand. “Please to meet you...sir. Uh, Mister Winston doesn't do it himself?”
John shook his head. “Nope. He figures I have better judgment when it comes to this.” Again, he regarded him closely. Cole knew he didn't give off the impression of being particularly strong or industrious. His lean figure and average stature of a couple inches below six feet were not awe-inspiring, but whatever he lacked in physical strength, he made up for in willpower. “Where are you from?”
He knew that he would answer most questions
truthfully, even when it didn’t benefit him to do so. He needed to appear to be trustworthy in every respect. “Philadelphia, sir. Lived there all my life.”
“Hmm. City boy then.” John looked amused. Cole was pretty sure young men such as himself came by frequently looking for work. “Ever work on a ranch or the like?”
“Uh, not exactly, but I'm a good worker. I’ve had many jobs in the city, and I’m not afraid of hard work.”
“Yeah, every man says that of himself, but if you've never done it, how can you know?”
He pulled his shoulders back and looked the man in the eye. Careful to keep his gaze steady without appearing sullen, he gave a small smile and replied, “I’ve hauled crates, swept floors, done building, assisted a blacksmith, and I've been riding for nearly four years now, sir.”
John made a noise in his throat that Cole couldn’t interpret and then turned his attention to Knight. “Fine horse you've got. I'll give you that much. Did you pick him out yourself?”
“Sure did. He's an American Quarterhorse, stallion.”
The corner of the older man's mouth quirked a little and Cole realized that it sounded like he was showing off.
“Yep, I can see that. How old were you when you got him?”
Cole realized the man was trying to decipher his age, and even though he was somewhat tempted to lie in order to seem older, he didn’t.
“Sixteen.”
John nodded and seemed to be considering. “Well, we are going to be needing a few more men. I was actually going to put up a post in town next week, so you've come at the right time, but I just don't know if you're right for the job. I'm looking for men who don't need a lot of direction or training.”
“I've read everything about ranching that I could get my hands on,” Cole replied, trying hard not to sound too eager. “And I guarantee you won't be sorry.”
“Oh? How are you going to do that?”
Cole had known that there would be a chance of not getting hired very easily and made an offer.
“I'll work the first month for nothing except room and board. If you're not happy with my work, you don't have to pay me. If you are, you keep me on.”
John was a little taken aback by the offer, but then gave a bark of laughter. “Well, I gotta say, I like your confidence. You're hired...for a month, at least. I'll show you where the bunkhouse is.
* * *
Madelyn Winston threw the embroidery down on the sofa beside her in exasperation and let out a groan. She'd pricked herself three times in the past ten minutes and couldn’t seem to redo the pattern to cover up the spots of blood.
“Why in the world would anyone do this to themselves?” she grumbled, glaring at the offending piece of fabric.
Carefully, quietly, she stood up and, moving slowly to not make any noise, crept to her parents' room where she found a pair of her dad's jeans and an old shirt. She quickly changed, using a belt to cinch the waist of the pants. Again, listening for the sound of her mother, she slipped out the door into the inviting sunshine and ran in the direction of the barn.
Only when she was a good piece away from the house did she let herself slow down and take a big breath. Nearing the barn, she started to grin even before she entered. The smell of horses reached her nose and ignited her excitement. Of course, horses meant manure, but she didn't even mind that. She'd much rather be out here mucking the stalls than inside doing feminine things, especially if it meant she'd have a chance to ride.
No one was near, so she waltzed over to the second stall from the right, whistling three specific notes. Immediately, a chestnut mare stuck her muzzle out and snorted a greeting.
“Hey there, Spark,” she murmured, fishing an apple out of the nearby barrel and extending it on a flat palm. The mare delicately lipped it out of her hand and crunched it with satisfaction, or so Maddie imagined. “Want to go for a ride?” she asked, slipping into the stall and rubbing the horse's sleek neck. “It's a beautiful day.”
However, before she could saddle her horse, she heard John talking to someone. When the other man responded, she couldn't place his voice, and she knew everyone on the ranch. As the conversation continued, she pressed herself against the side of the stall, well out of their line of sight, and strained to hear what they were saying.
“We have more than a hundred head of cattle and over two dozen horses, most of which are used for herding, but we breed some and train them for fancy folks back east. They pay a pretty penny for a well-bred horse. Twice a year, we round cattle up and put them on trains that bring them over to Kansas.”
John droned on and on, telling the other man all about the ranch, facts that Maddie had known for years, everything a person could have hoped to know around the table of ranchers and ranch hands.
Finally, the other man spoke. “How long have you been here, sir?” he asked politely.
Maddie couldn't identify the accent, but the man's voice was smooth and soft, and she imagined that he was one of those fine gentlemen that John was mentioning, perhaps a buyer. When she was able to sneak a peek at him from behind Spark, however, she nearly gasped.
Dressed much as the other hands at Triple Range, this newcomer was by far the most attractive man she'd ever seen, not that she had much experience beyond the ranch and its neighbors. Dark curly hair poked out from under his obviously new hat, and even though he wasn't as broad as John nor as tall, he held himself with confidence. His lean form was relaxed, but he somehow seemed alert at the same time. She thought it had something to do with his dark eyes. When he turned a little, she caught a glimpse of his profile. His nose was straight and his lips full. His chin looked strong, but not aggressive. Maddie's eyes widened and her stomach felt like it was filled with jumping frogs. Never had she seen such a man. Who was he?
Her mind was roaring so loudly that she barely heard what they were saying, but then the words, “You're hired,” reached her ears, and she nearly shouted with joy.
Although she managed to keep a rein on her mouth, her knees suddenly felt wobbly, and she tripped on the brush she'd left on the floor of the stall the night before. When she fell, there was a large clatter and then silence.
“Who's there?” John demanded. “Show yourself!”
The sound of footsteps approaching made her wish fervently that there was some place to hide or a hole to swallow her up, but of course there wasn't.
“It's just me, Uncle John,” she replied feebly. “I, uh, came out to see Spark.”
She hated how her voice sounded, weak and shrill at the same time.
Two faces appeared over the top of the stall door, one grinning and the other detached.
“Hello, Maddie darling,” John boomed. “Sneaking away from your ma again?”
Nodding sheepishly, she tried to keep her focus on the man who was like a second father to her, but her eyes betrayed her and skipped over to the younger man. Any excitement she'd felt at seeing him faded the instant she caught his eye. There was such disdain in them that she actually winced. What must she look like, dressed in her father's clothes and sitting in horse muck? However, she was the daughter of the owner, and as such, was entitled to some respect from a mere ranch hand. As gracefully as she could, she rose from the floor and gave him a cool nod.
“I'm Madelyn Winston,” she informed him primly. “How do you do?”
The man seemed a little taken aback at first, but then nodded, one quick jerk of his head as a finger poked the brim of his hat, a token sign of respect. “Cole Reynolds.”
“He's going to be working here, Mads,” John told her. He glanced down at her dirty clothes. “Uh, why don't you head on back to the house? I won't tell your mother I saw you.”
She felt like a five-year-old who'd been caught sneaking cake before dinner. Even though she knew John was just being affectionate and protective, it annoyed her. “I'm not a child,” she replied with a pout. “If I want to see my horse, I can.”
The voice that she tried to make sound mature came out as
rather petulant, and it was received with a look of indulgence by the man she called ‘Uncle.’ He shot her a toothy grin and nodded. “Sure thing, but I'll just keep the visit to myself in any case.”
Any pride she had left was ground to dust with that kind comment, but Cole didn't seem to notice. He was looking at Spark.
“Nice looking horse,” he acknowledged, his voice still coolly indifferent. “Arabian?”
“Yes, she is,” Maddie answered proudly, looking him boldly in the eye. “She's mine.”
Cole nodded, but still didn't look at her. His eyes were on the horse, taking in her features. “She's a bit small. Still a filly?”
She was, in fact, four years old, given to Maddie on her fourteenth birthday. “She's a mare,” she replied a little sharply. “Not all full-grown horses are fifteen hands tall.”
Now he looked her full in the face and smirked. “No, they're not. What is she, about thirteen and a bit?”
That was her height exactly, but for some reason, Maddie didn't want to admit it to him. His superior attitude annoyed her to no end. Why, he couldn't have been much older than she was, maybe a year or two at most. How dare he act like he knew everything while condescending to her? She'd been on this ranch for twelve years! He looked fresh off the train from some big city.
“Alright, let's go,” John said, clearly done with the chitchat. “You can talk more about horses at dinner tonight.”
And with that, they were gone.
Chapter 2
Shaking his head a little as they left the barn, Cole contemplated the tiny urchin that had been sitting in the pile of horse manure. She was a little thing, probably not more than about ten or twelve years old, playing cowboy in what was probably her dad's or maybe a brother’s clothes. How could they let her roam around the ranch like that? It wasn’t safe.