The Brides of Evergreen Box Set

by Heather Blanton

  I have sent all your personal items to the post for storage. You can expect the legal paperwork to reach Evergreen by the first of December. All you need do is sign them and we’ll be a fait accompli.

  Joel flipped the page over, thinking there must be more.

  There wasn’t.

  He didn’t know where to start dealing with this news. Divorce? She’d been unfaithful? She was going to remarry?

  All at once he felt rejected, betrayed, humiliated and relieved. Bewildered by the gamut of emotions, he folded the letter, tucked it back into the envelope, and slipped it into his pocket beneath his coat.

  “Not good news,” Long Feather said riding up. “Not bad news.”

  Joel’s confusion fogged his thinking. “My wife is divorcing me.”

  Long Feather didn’t utter a sound, but Joel sensed the man’s confusion suddenly melt into revelation. While Joel hadn’t meant to expose the lie, he didn’t think Angela would mind his sharing the whole story with their friend.

  “Angela and I aren’t married. She’s going to have a baby. It’s not mine.” He finally had the courage to look at Long Feather. “I came home with her to give her some cover, you could say. She was terrified he would turn her out without a husband.”

  “He would have.”

  “I think so, too. I was going to abandon her after a few days and let the general step in as a hero. The general and my wife,” Joel slapped the letter and sighed. “Let’s just say she and the general share the same opinion about my worth as a man. So, while I have hated lying, I think we did the right thing.”

  “And now? How does this letter change your plans?”

  Angela rose up in his mind. The tenderness shimmering in her eyes at the ruins, her face glowing with joy as she taught him to dance, the warmth and peace of her curled up next to him in bed. She’d seen his leg. Touched him with such…compassion. Even longing.

  Did this letter change his plans? “I don’t know.” He wasn’t sure he trusted himself to think clearly.

  “You remember I said ‘choosing a horse is much like choosing a woman. You want one who welcomes your touch, not one who bucks you?’”

  “I remember.”

  “You’ve had the one who bucks.”

  32

  The Bar FB swarmed with guests, both inside the house and out. Martha and Angela had their hands full preparing guest rooms, laughing with old friends, and cooking food for an army. Tomorrow night they would decorate the tree and kick off the Christmas ball. The rodeo and all its traditions had been going on ever since the general had founded the ranch back in ’63.

  The revelry launched the holiday celebration in a wonder of merriment and fellowship. Smiling, Angela hugged some towels to her chest as she sashayed down the hallway. For a moment, she let herself pretend all was right in her world. Christmas was coming. She was married to Joel, the baby she carried was his, and her father was a good, kind man—

  The general’s tirade brought her to a halt a few steps from his library door.

  “What do you mean divorced? I knew it.” He slammed his fist down on his desk. She was too familiar with the sound. “I knew they were up to something. I assume she knows.”

  A lower, softer voice muttered an answer Angela couldn’t hear. She thought the voice was her father’s attorney Kyle Slade, but couldn’t be sure. But they were talking about Joel, weren’t they? Was he getting a divorce? How had this come about? He hadn’t said anything.

  Perhaps he didn’t want her to know.

  “An innocent victim?” the general’s volume faded, came back, as if he was pacing about the room. “No Fairbanks is a victim, innocent or otherwise. She knows.”

  “Angela, hurry up with those towels, please,” Martha called from the stairs. “Miss Hildie wants her bath.”

  Angela ducked her head and raced past her father’s study. “Coming.”

  Reeling from Ruth’s news, Joel left Long Feather on the way back to the ranch to find some solitude. He rode out to the ruins again, feeling a need to be reminded of the fragility of life, and his desire to make some kind of impact on at least a few lives. The dark windows gazed down at him with a stoic, empty silence.

  He moseyed back toward the ranch and climbed to the rise from which he suspected the general and the neighbor had watched him practice. The view from here was impressive.

  Rolling, open hills stretched to the foot of the nearby Laramie Mountains. Cattle and cowboys dotted the hillsides. He could see the ranch house, its far-seeing cupola, and cowboys milling about. The corral had a crowd of hands watching a little early bronc-busting going on.

  A wagon carrying a mammoth Christmas tree rolled in to the ranch. Even from this distance, Joel could tell the evergreen was a good fifteen feet tall.

  He took a breath and tried to clear his mind to pray.

  Ruth had set him free.

  She was divorcing him.

  Lord, I can’t seem to make sense of it. Why do I feel like a failure?

  Because he’d failed to be the husband Ruth needed. Wounded in the Army, he’d failed to fulfill his duty as a captain. With one good leg, he’d failed as a man—or so the world kept whispering to him.

  Deflated by the self-incriminations, he lowered his head and leaned on the saddle horn.

  Lord, what do I do now?

  Invest in one soul…at least.

  He didn’t know if the words came from the still, small Voice he was desperate to hear, or from his own heart, but he couldn’t deny he wanted… he wanted to stay with Angela. To help her, protect her if need be.

  He acknowledged she might not feel the same way. Was there something real between them or was she merely clinging to the hope of safe and solid ground?

  He wouldn’t find out sitting up here on this hill.

  33

  Riding in, Joel noted the bunkhouse overflowing with cowboys, and the stalls with horses. The open field behind the barn sported a small city of covered wagons and campfires. Long Feather said over two hundred folks had come to the Bar FB for the Christmas rodeo.

  By the time Joel made it back to the house, all the guests had settled either in their rooms, the library to smoke cigars, or the parlor for polite conversation. The house brimmed with people.

  Joel was late and had missed dinner, but Martha set him a place in the kitchen and served him some stew. “Angela asked after you at supper.”

  “I was out riding.” He sat down at the farm table and dug into the stew. He’d missed lunch as well and the meal now was more than satisfying. “Where is she? Upstairs?”

  “Mhmm.” Martha poured two cups of coffee, slid one before him, and sat down with the other. “You feelin’ good about the rodeo tomorrow?”

  At this late hour with so much on his mind, he didn’t know what he thought. He did know he wanted to see Angela. He didn’t just want to tell her about the divorce, however. He also wanted to tell her it was time to tell her father the truth about things. However, the conversation between Dent and Long Feather came back to him and he wondered just how evil the man was.

  “Martha, what do you think about this murder charge that was brought against the general? The sheriff alluded to bribes and conspiracy—”

  She touched his hand, silencing him. “He was acquitted.” Her eyes darkened with an intensity that sent a different message. “We don’t talk about it. One of the hands acted foolishly, killed a good neighbor. The general didn’t condone it.”

  A king who will kill to get what he wants and keep what he has. Long Feather’s words. “I see.” And he did. Forewarned was forearmed. “Thank you for the stew. I’ll go on up to bed.”

  The awareness of what kind of man he and Angela might be dealing with changed things in Joel’s mind. Could he stay here? Should Angela? Should she raise a child around a murderer, if the sheriff was to be believed?

  Lost in thought, he pushed open the door without knocking. Angela was stepping out of the tub, glistening and wet—

  She gas
ped and dropped back down into the tub as Joel spun away. “I’m so sorry, Angela. I should have knocked. I’ll come back—”

  “No, it’s all right. Could you hand me my robe?”

  Joel wiped sweat off his lip, trying to force the flash of her body from his mind. He took a deep breath but it did nothing to calm his jangling nerves. Realizing the door was still cracked, he shut it and sighed. “Your robe?”

  “Yes. I’m in the water again. You can turn around.”

  Still trying to avert his eyes, he passed her robe from the nearby bedpost to her, then limped over to the chair by the fire. He sat down and dropped his head in his hands. He certainly had not meant to look…

  He had to get his mind off the image of her. “I need to talk to you, Angela. I have some things I’d like to tell you.”

  “All right.” A moment later she knelt down at his feet. She was wrapped in a fluffy white robe and her long, auburn hair hung in wet tendrils. She gazed up at him with that look—he swore it said she admired him. Maybe it said more than that. Now could he hope?

  “I got a letter today. Ruth has divorced me.” Her mouth fell open, but he kept going. “The papers should be here any day.”

  Her mouth moved, but for a moment no sound came out. She slipped on to her hip, resting on her hand. “You’re telling me because…you want to stay?” She asked with obvious hope, unless he couldn’t read any of her signs.

  He leaned forward, moved to grasp her shoulders, but stopped himself at the last moment, clenched his fingers and retreated. “Angela, you said you were scared and lonely. I care for you. I want to help you with your father…”

  Her face fell. “Of course, I understand. You are a good, honorable, decent man Joel Chapman.”

  No, no he wasn’t. He wanted Angela, he wanted her in every way a man can have a woman. And he had to get this out in the open. “Angela, riding again—and dancing—but especially riding, it freed me up to dream.” He licked his lips, anxious to make her understand. “But I wouldn’t allow myself to, because of Ruth. I want a horse ranch. I want to ride horses every day. I want…” He took a deep, solid breath. “I want you and I want the baby you’re carrying to come with me.”

  Emotions cascaded across her face, but confusion won out. “You want to help us?” she asked haltingly.

  He didn’t want to sound like some lovesick fool—after all, he hadn’t known Angela that long—but every moment with her had felt good and right, and familiar, like home. “I don’t ever want to leave you.”

  He cupped her cheek and pulled her to him as he moved to meet her halfway. Their lips met, and Angela gasped. She yielded to his kiss like a morning glory greeting the sun. Fire, lightning, lava, all the heat in creation surged through Joel’s soul.

  His mouth sought hers hungrily, like a starving man. And he was starving, wasn’t he? How long had it been since a woman had kissed him back? “I know I’m not whole—”

  “Stop it,” Angela said against his lips. She ran her hands up his chest, through his hair, and held him tightly as she slipped into his lap. “You are perfect,” she whispered, breathless. “Completely perfect.”

  Joel embraced her, pulled her to him. Held her with all the strength in him. He could feel her heart pounding, the swell of her bosom rising and falling. He drifted his lips down to her throat, back to her mouth. The touch of her, the taste of her nearly drove reason from him.

  He ran a hand down her arm to her waist, over her hip—unexpectedly he touched her exposed calf. Her flesh was hot, soft, headier than an entire bottle of fine brandy—

  Mental brakes brought him to a screeching halt.

  He clenched his jaw and pulled away from her mouth. He tugged her robe over her leg and held her like a child, his cheek pressed to the top of her head. He didn’t speak until their breathing slowed.

  True, he hadn’t been with a woman in months, but he’d never felt a rush of emotions, a flood of passion like the magic Angela stirred up in his soul. “Angela, we can’t do anything, we can’t make any decisions, until we tell your father everything.”

  Clutching his shirt, she stiffened. After a moment, though, she nodded. “I know. I can’t hide it much longer. At least I’m not afraid anymore.”

  34

  Joel wasn’t nervous. He saddled up Tonka and noted with pride that since he’d been riding bareback so much, his ability to read this horse was almost like intuition now. The team roping would go all right then. Not a given that he and Long Feather would win, but he had some confidence.

  “You really think you can win this event?”

  Fairbanks. Joel ordered himself not to sigh. Slowly, he looked over his shoulder at the old man in his black clothes, flashy conchos shined up like new silver dollars.

  “Yes, sir, I think Long Feather and I have a chance.”

  “Maybe of a snowflake in hell.”

  Joel turned fully to him then. “Is it true if I win an event, your own rules say I have a job here?”

  “Son, I wouldn’t count on winning anything if I were you. And if you do, by some miracle, I wouldn’t count on this ranch being too friendly or safe. I’ve already tolerated you more than I can stand.”

  Joel had thought he might bargain with the old man for a permanent sanctuary for Angela. Now the idea was abhorrent to him. Angela needed to be with him.

  Somehow, Lord, help us work this out.

  To Fairbanks he said, “I believe the feeling is mutual, sir.”

  The hands had pulled several wagons up to the edge of the corral in a line for seating. Folks piled up on them to watch the competitions. Angela took a seat on a flat bed, her legs swinging over the edge, and warmed all over when Joel stood beside her. He rested a hand on her knee as they talked, a natural, affectionate gesture that turned her to jelly. She wished things could have worked out for Long Feather and Miss Laurie, but the missionary had, according to rumor, been called away abruptly to another reservation.

  Angela had her doubts about the story. Called away or ran away? Regardless, she’d hurt Long Feather. Though the stoic Indian would never admit it, Angela could see the change in him. He’d picked up a harder edge. She heard less tolerance in his tone when speaking to the other hands. The brawl with Glenn and the other hands hadn’t helped and she suddenly wondered if the fight had been more about Long Feather’s interest in Miss Laurie and less about his friendship with Joel.

  Maybe this day, then, was going to be a day for both men to get back some of what they’d lost recently. She hoped so.

  Busy with helping move horses or get cattle into the chutes, he did manage to come sit with her for a few moments during the bronc busting, a painful exhibition of skill, luck, and grim determination. She and Joel flinched and, if the situation warranted, laughed every time the cowboys hit the ground. The louder the thud, the louder the crowd cheered.

  Then the time came for the team roping. Joel leaned over and kissed Angela on the cheek. “Wish me luck?”

  “You don’t need it. But just in case,” she kissed him on the lips. “Go win.” He grinned like a mule munching on briars and hurried back to the corral to saddle Tonka.

  Eight teams competed. Joel and Long Feather drew the highest number and would go last. Angela was glad. They’d know whom they had to beat.

  Pair after pair of cowboys jumped into the competition, most with impressive amounts of skill and luck. Several teams got three out of five ties. The team from Mr. Granger’s ranch got four.

  The competition was steep. Joel and Long Feather had their work cut out for them. She believed in them, though. This was their day.

  Several minutes later, they rode out and positioned their horses on each side of the cattle chute. Inside the funnel, a young steer bucked and raged wildly. A concerned glance passed between Joel and Long Feather. They had drawn a mean one.

  The gate, on a pulley, popped open and the bull busted free. Joel and Long Feather were on him in an instant, ropes swinging high and fast. Joel tossed his first and snag
ged the steer. Tonka locked up her hooves as he snubbed the rope around the saddle horn, nearly jerking the steer off his feet. Meanwhile, Long Feather tossed his and caught the animal’s back legs. A perfect tie.

  Angela was impressed. The two men worked together like a well-oiled machine. The crowd of guests and cowboys offered cool but skeptical applause. Then Joel and Long Feather repeated the success. The cheers grew louder.

  On both the third and fourth runs, the crowd was on their feet. And when the duo repeated their success and roped the steer for the fifth and final time, shouts and whistles filled in with the applause.

  Angela clapped wildly and shouted for her hero. Her one-legged husband had proven himself. To himself, she hoped.

  Joel wouldn’t lie. As he and Tonka sauntered over to the corral, he unabashedly enjoyed the congratulatory pats on the leg, the hat tips, the thumbs up. The hands from the Bar FB as well as the other ranches offered sincere congratulations.

  He dismounted and he and Long Feather shook hands, both of them grinning like drunk raccoons. “Not bad for an old Indian.”

  Long Feather kicked Joel’s leg lightly. “Not bad for a one-legged pony soldier.”

  “Truly a fine exhibition of riding.” The men turned to see an older man, tall, heavyset, an impressive thatch of salt-and-pepper hair up top approaching. “My name is Stu Granger.” He offered his hand. “Joel.” The two shook hands.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “Long Feather.” They shook as well. “Good to see you.”

  “And you, Mr. Granger,” the Indian replied, cordially, Joel thought.

  “Boys, I can’t thank you enough. Because of your win, I’ve added Jess Fairbanks’ prize bull to my herd. That’s quite a coup.”