Ty had told her to go back east. She should be relieved.
She crawled under the covers of the cold, lonely bed. The hurt showing in his eyes remained emblazoned on her mind.
She squeezed her eyes closed. “Granny, I’ve made a terrible mess of things, haven’t I?”
But Granny’s reassuring voice didn’t echo back, and she felt more alone than ever.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Ty held tight to the reins as Eclipse negotiated the steep incline to the top of Jackrabbit Butte. The trail ended at a rocky outcrop. White puffs of breath billowed from the pinto’s black and white nose.
Ty patted the horse’s neck and leaned on the saddle horn.
The majestic Big Horn Mountains sat to one side and the ranch sat nestled in a blanket of snow on the other. The sky was as blue as Ella’s eyes. He ought to feel like he was in heaven, but two weeks after leaving Ella’s bed and moving back into the bunk room, he was as miserable as a bull mired neck deep in mud.
He’d told her he loved her and her reply had cut like a knife. Don’t talk. Make love to me. Make me forget.
Plenty of men would say he was crazy for rejecting hours of sweat and passion, but using Ella that way wasn’t who he was. Others would counsel him to enjoy what he had in hand, with no concern for tomorrow. Boone and Ace took lovers.
Ty raised his collar against the cold. Crud! He couldn’t do that. He wanted more. Much more.
Smoke curled invitingly from the chimney of the ranch. The prettiest little ranch in Wyoming Territory, Ma used to say. And Pa would beam with pride. Ty wanted what they had. A real marriage with Ella, sharing in the work, joy, frustration, quiet moments, and all the other good and bad that came with loving someone.
So, though it was killing him, he would continue to sleep in the bunk room, until Ella could love him freely, and not hate or blame herself for loving him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The fresh, invigorating smell of spring permeated the air, accompanied by a warm breeze and the patter of melting snow raining from the eaves. But Ella couldn’t enjoy her favorite time of the year, standing at the railing of the low-slung veranda, watching the Haven brothers prepare for another day of searching the wilderness.
The men hoped to come across pockets of live longhorns, spurred on by the discovery of a few half-starved steers yesterday. The work was exhausting and dangerous, but Ty assured her the probability of the ranch surviving increased with each animal they saved.
The task had become all consuming, requiring everyone to take on extra work. The task of caring for and feeding the rescued animals had fallen on Garrett, Ox, and Billy. Ella had taken over the majority of the cooking and cleaning. Wyatt, Levi, Ace, and White Wolf spent the bulk of their time in the saddle scouring the range. But nobody pushed harder than Ty.
His haunted, golden-brown eyes told her how devastating the loss of the ranch would be. Not that she saw much of him. He’d moved back into one of the bunk rooms, ate his meals out of the sacks of food she prepared ahead for him, and stayed on the move from before sunrise until the wee hours of the night.
Tan cowboy hat shadowing his sober face, he guided Eclipse to the porch. “I already fed the chickens. Garrett will fetch more fresh milk. Have Seth wash the dishes, seeing he didn’t see fit to get out of bed in time to help with the milking.”
Ty’s polite, distant tone hurt worse than if he’d yelled and struck her.
Seated on a chair, with his feet propped on the rail, Seth wore one of his insufferable smirks. “You won’t have to put up with me much longer. The trail should be clear in a few weeks.”
Her stomach sickened at the thought of leaving the ranch and riding the train back east and never seeing Ty again. “Go start the dishes, sweetie. I’ll be right behind you.”
Ty glanced away. “Spring usually comes quicker than you think, but nothing about this year’s been normal.”
She couldn’t stand the tension. “Is your bum sore?”
He arched a brow, but still managed to appear ruggedly handsome. “My bum’s just dandy, thank you.”
Was that a glint of a smile in his eyes? “You don’t sit down much. Thought there might be a problem.”
He nudged Eclipse’s sides and the horse moved on. But his lips had curved upward. “Have a good day, Miss Ella.”
She grinned. “I will.”
Wyatt rode by, his brow furrowed. “Let him be, Miss Ella.”
Wyatt’s displeasure struck like an arrow to the heart.
White Wolf’s silent stare as he trotted past on his brown and white pinto pony raised the hair on her arms.
Ace and Levi came next, eyes full of censure. “I never took you for a tease,” Ace said, shaking his head.
Her chin lifted, but every defense disintegrated. Their anger was understandable. She’d committed an unforgivable offense in their eyes. She’d hurt Ty.
The sight of the Haven men would make the hardest of hearts melt. Men and horses silhouetted against the majestic white peaks, the brothers formed a tight pact around Ty and Eclipse. The indomitable bond tying these men together wasn’t blood. It was stronger than blood. Love of family, love of the West, love of Sweet Creek Ranch bound them.
Who would she have to cherish and care for if she returned east? And who would love her and fuss over her in return? She wrapped her shawl about her shoulders against the cold invading her bones. What would Granny Bessie want for her?
Ella bit her lip. Who would care or celebrate her victory when she returned to Georgetown or LaGrange with Johnny’s saber?
Ty’s black and yellow calico cat leaped up on the porch rail and brushed against Ella. She ran her hand over Fox Bait’s sleek fur and the cat arched her back encouragingly. Garrett crossed the yard, arms weighed down with pails of warm milk. Billy tagged along. Going out of his way to splash through every slushy puddle he could find, Billy stomped to a stop at the foot of the porch. Eyes that used to be red rimmed and perpetually on the point of tears now beamed with joy. “Ty says your horse is going to have a baby.”
Sweetheart wasn’t her horse. “How wonderful.”
Garrett set the pail down and mussed Billy’s red hair. “It’s called a foal.”
Billy wrinkled his nose. “Do you hope Sweetheart has a girl foal or a boy foal?”
“Filly and colt,” Garrett instructed kindly.
“Maybe she’ll have twins,” Billy enthused. “A boy and a girl. You can pick out names.”
Ella hoped the foal would have the same beautiful butterscotch coloring as Sweetheart. Darn it. She wanted to be with Sweetheart when her time came. Only she’d be half a continent away by then.
Garrett hefted the pail, and glanced up at her. “Miss Ella will be going home once the snow melts.”
Billy gave her a pleading look. “Sweet Creek is your home. Tell him so.”
Home. The word jolted sharper than the kick from a Colt Walker.
A blush of embarrassment tinged Garrett’s cheeks. He pulled Billy along by the arm. “Mr. Ty told us not to go pestering Miss Ella.”
Fox Bait swished her tail past Ella’s face, jumped down from the rail, and followed the boys and the pail of milk inside.
Surrounded in silence, the truth echoed through her as loudly as the thud of her heart. Sweet Creek was home. Not Georgetown. Not LaGrange. The South and LaGrange would always hold a dear place in her heart, but they no longer had a claim on her.
The boys. The ranch. Ty. They were home.
Sweet biscuits and jam, she hoped it wasn’t too late to make matters right with Ty.
But how?
Johnny’s saber!
Shawl slipping off her shoulders, she hurried inside.
Garrett and Billy were stripping out of their wet clothes.
“Something wrong?” Seth asked, arms elbow deep in dishwater.
She dodged the scatter of boots and stockings and dashed toward the bedroom door. “Nothing f
or you to worry about, sweetie.”
Johnny’s saber called to her. She needed to hold it, trace the raised letters on the hilt, see the sun glint off the blade. And when Ty returned home, she would give him Johnny’s saber and he would know she was ready to give her whole heart to him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Ella dropped to her knees in front of the window next to the cherrywood dresser and pried up the loose boards. Sunlight lit the bare cavity, but there was no sign of Johnny’s saber. She groped beneath the floorboards, and found only bare ground and old cobwebs for her trouble.
Heart pounding, she stood and brushed her hands clean. Had Ty moved or disposed of the saber? No, he wouldn’t have without consulting her.
Seth.
Oh, she hoped he wasn’t guilty. But feared he was. Fisting her hands in her skirt, she hurried back to the main room.
Garrett, Ox, and Billy joked and talked around the pine table, filling their bellies on Ace’s giant raspberry muffins. Seth sat slumped in one of the cushioned pine chairs, staring gloomily at the spluttering fire.
The boys stared at her expectantly, proving she’d done a poor job covering her agitation. There was no casual way to mention the search for the Civil War saber, so she blurted out the gist of the story, except for the part about Ty killing her brother.
Garrett, Ox, and Billy asked questions and expressed their astonishment over her and Ty’s shared past, mixing in offers to help search for the saber.
Seth, however, glared at her with open hostility, daring her to accuse him. A shiver shook her. Was she looking at a future gunslinger? A paid killer?
Nonsense. She turned her attention back to the boys. “Thank you for your concern, gentlemen. I’m sure Mr. Ty must have moved the saber.” She planned to search the hayloft as soon as she could get away unnoticed.
A half hour later, she climbed the barn ladder and found the loft swept clean of every last piece of straw. “Sugar!” She was sure Seth had hidden the saber under the straw, but feeding the extra cattle they’d rescued had devastated the winter supply of hay and feed.
No wonder Ty had taken to looking more and more sober. And he was carrying the burden without the help and encouragement of a wife. Worse, she was causing him extra worry.
Suddenly the search for the saber seemed selfish and pointless. The survival of Sweet Creek Ranch mattered. What would become of Garrett, Ox, Billy, and Seth if the ranch failed? And what of the future? No more boys would get a second chance—the precious opportunity to find love and purpose and a place to call home.
“Miss Ella.”
She spun around and pressed her hand to her constricted chest.
Legs braced wide, Seth clutched the handle of the curved saber, dust dancing in the filtered light around him.
“Johnny’s saber,” she said, voice unsteady. She cleared her throat. “Where did you find it, sweetie?”
“You mean, when did I steal it?”
“The thought did cross my mind. Why, Seth?”
“The six-shooters and rifles would be missed if I took them.” He shrugged. “Figured no one would notice if I took this. Probably wouldn’t have done much good against a grizzly.”
“For when you run away?”
His chin lifted in a stubborn tilt. “I planned to leave in the middle of the night to avoid the fuss over the saber.”
“Mr. Ty or Mr. Wyatt would escort you to Aurora or Cheyenne.”
His brow furrowed. “They would?”
“You’re not a prisoner.” Ty had told her she was free to go and that he didn’t want her to love him against her will. If his heart ached half as much for her as her heart ached for Seth, then it was one of the greatest gifts she’d ever been given.
Seth thought about it for a long moment. “I was wrong about you.”
She blinked. “Wrong about what?”
He studied the barn floor. “I said we were alike, and we didn’t need anybody. But that’s not true, is it?”
“You don’t need to be alone.” She didn’t beg. Begging wouldn’t work. He had to come to the truth himself. “We can both be happy here.”
Seth pointed across the loft with the saber. “I got something to show you.” He led her to the dark shadows in a far corner.
Dizzy, she glanced over her shoulder, wondering if she could scramble down the ladder quick enough to escape. Then a soft mewing tickled her ears.
Kittens?
Squinting, she spotted a black cat curled up on an old blanket. She dropped to her knees with Seth and they shared wide smiles. Four furry balls of black and white cuteness snuggled up to one of Garrett’s barn cats.
Seth placed Johnny’s saber across her lap as casual as if he were handing her a platter of potatoes. “They were born last night.”
The sleepy-eyed mother cat purred contentedly.
Ella’s fingers traced the raised JH on the saber and stroked the cat’s soft ears with her other hand. “Nice work, Momma.”
Seth petted one of the kittens with the pad of his finger. “I always wanted a cat.”
He was about the same age Ty and Johnny had been when their paths crossed. Young and full of life. Yet vulnerable. So very vulnerable. “These cuties are going to love romping around the ranch and being spoiled by everyone.”
Seth nodded. “I’m going to stay until they open their eyes.”
The kittens would keep Seth here for at least one more week. Ella would have to be satisfied with seven more days. Who knew what the next week would bring?
A small commotion arose outside.
Seth raced to the small door overlooking the yard and opened the upper half. “Mr. Boone is back.”
Johnny’s saber weighing down her arm, she joined Seth. Boone sat astride his black stallion, surrounded by the other boys. The slump of his shoulders and bowed head reminded her of the broken and battered soldiers who had returned to LaGrange after the war.
“Where’s Jack?” Seth called.
Boone looked up. The grief reflected in his black eyes and the heavy strain on his face chilled her to the bone.
Boone was carrying bad news. She was sure of it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
An hour after leaving Ella and the ranch behind, Ty allowed Eclipse to pick his way through the snowbound brush and smiled, recalling his parting conversation with Ella. Is your bum sore?
His anger and frustration were now mostly directed at himself for expecting her to forget the past. Every night in the bunk room, bombarded by Ox’s loud snores, he would ask himself why he wasn’t in bed with Ella.
He could search a thousand years and never find a woman more perfect for him.
White Wolf joined him, back from scouting a small ravine. He shook his head. No sign of stray cattle.
Ty shifted in the saddle. The ranch owned him heart and soul. And he’d never found reason to regret it. Until now. If the future of the ranch wasn’t hanging in the balance, he’d take six months or a year break and travel with Ella to a small mountain cabin he knew about. Spend all his days and nights working on mending her heart and his own, making love until they both shook, taking hikes to the most beautiful waterfall he’d ever come across, swimming naked in the hot springs.
Of course, there was one small problem. He had told her she should go home. He’d like to kick himself in the bum.
A gunshot rang out to the east, shattering his reverie. “Crud!” Ty said, muscles tensing. The prearranged signal called for them to fire one shot for trouble, two shots for finding live cattle. The blast had come from the area Wyatt, Levi, and Ace were canvassing.
He and White Wolf urged their horses into a hard, short gallop, and burst out of a screen of pines to find Beau Blackwell and his crew of hired men manhandling Wyatt while holding Levi and Ace at gunpoint. Two emaciated longhorns stood nearby bawling at the ruckus.
White Wolf, riding bareback, melded his chest to the brown and white pinto, and managed to k
nock the men guarding Levi and Ace off their feet without clipping his brothers.
Horses reared and scattered.
Reacting quickly, Levi and Ace turned the table on the fallen men. White Wolf circled back lightning fast, jumped almost on top of Blackwell, and easily disarmed the startled cattle baron.
Ty leaped from Eclipse’s back, drew both his revolvers and leveled them at the heads of the two men roughing up Wyatt. “Shooting you would ruin my morning.”
Worn-out cowboys, who didn’t have six teeth between them, stared at him slack-jawed, hands clutching Wyatt’s buckskin coat.
Ty cocked his six-shooters. “Come to think of it, my morning wasn’t going so good anyways.”
“We caught him rustling our cattle,” one of them said, real unfriendly like.
Wyatt shrugged free of their grip and brushed the wrinkles from his coat sleeves, indignant. “I explained how we been rounding up any cattle we can find and taking them to Sweet Creek until spring. And they said they were going to hang me by the neck for my trouble.”
Seeing red, Ty struggled to corral his rage. “Throw your guns on the ground.”
Four revolvers landed in the snow at Wyatt’s feet.
Ty focused his outrage on Blackwell. “Cattle rustling? You’ve got to be kidding. We’ve been risking our necks to save your animals and the first thing you want to do is hang Wy?”
White Wolf breathed down Blackwell’s neck, ready to pounce if the cattle baron made a wrong move.
“Call your dog off,” Blackwell said, mouth curled in distaste.
Ace rushed at the cattle baron, pistol aimed straight at the man’s hateful head. “Apologize now!”
White Wolf’s face remained unreadable. “His insults mean nothing to me.”
“You know I don’t take kindly to them, Wolf,” Ace said.
Blackwell foolishly pursued the attack. “Take your Injun-loving hide to the reservation, if you—”
The Mail-Order Bride Carries a Gun: A Sweet Historical Western Romance (Brides of Sweet Creek Ranch Book 1) Page 13