“But I don’t deserve it.”
“That’s my unconditional love for you, Josephine Rose Cooper.”
Tears began falling down her face as Warren lowered his lips to hers, giving her a kiss of passion and security and, most of all, unconditional love.
“Isn’t that sweet!”
Warren stood up and picked up Josephine, leaning her against T.W. “Stay here, Honey.” He walked over to the saddlebag, strapped it to Hugh’s horse and walked the horse over to him.
“I’m only going to tell you this once. You’re going to get on your horse, take yourself into Wilson, get your leg taken care of, and then go back to Virginia and never come back to Texas. There is enough in that saddlebag to keep you set for life. If you ever come back, I will call the law, and I will have them throw you in jail to face your wrath with the judicial system.”
“What’s in the bag?”
“The million you wanted. It’s in cash and gems and gold and silver. Like I said, set for life. Now, get out of here.”
Hugh looked over at Josephine, clinging to her brother. “You got off easy.”
“Get out of here, Hugh! Now! Before I change my mind.”
They watched as he climbed his horse and headed for Wilson and out of their lives for good. Warren looked over at his new family.
“Let’s go home.”
With that the three mounted their horses and set off for the ranch, leaving the past behind them.
The End
Return to the TOC for Bonus Content
Home at Last
Chapter One
Mary stood at the edge of her husband's grave wiping her eyes and staring down at the gravestone. She kneeled down slowly, gripping a few weeds and pulling them from the soft ground and tossing them to the side.
She came to his grave every day in order to talk to him. Jacob was her best friend and husband until the very end. Neither of them expected to marry each other, but the fates had different plans.
They'd grown up together in the same small town just outside of Boston. They were friends by chance. They grew up in two very different worlds. Jacob was the son of a moderately successful farmer, and Mary was the daughter of a rich investor. She grew up going to prep schools and preparing herself to marry a man she wouldn’t love. She knew that her marriage was most likely going to be one of convenience—that's how families like Mary's maintained good social standing.
Jacob and Mary met in town one day while Mary was out with her parents shopping for jewelry and dresses for a fancy dance where Mary was to be debuted to high society. She was only 9 at the time, but her family believed in head starts. If they could arrange a future marriage while she was young, it would give her father time to make meaningful business deals and connections with her future in-laws.
Mary was walking down the street and fell behind her parents. She was distracted by a slightly older boy who was playing with a small metal hoop he rolled with a stick. She must have looked interested because he offered to show her how it worked. From that moment on, their friendship blossomed and they were connected at the hip.
Jacob only lived a few miles up the road from Mary's home, and although her mother didn't approve of her daughter hanging around with a young boy, there was little that could be done to separate them no matter how much it worried her parents.
Mary was a beautiful girl with a round face, delicate features and big brown eyes. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders in long ringlets that were always perfectly styled. Her beauty unnerved her parents, and they were constantly worried that their daughter’s purity might be tainted by a curious boy like Jacob. The last thing they wanted was to lose their daughter to a simple farmer.
The closer Mary and Jacob got, the more worried Mary’s parents became. When they were younger, Mary and Jacob used to joke around about how strange it would be to be married. As they got older, however, they started to see each other in a very different light. Their teenaged bodies started changing, and they began to notice the way they seemed to fit together. They shared their first kiss under the pale moonlight, and Jacob took Mary’s hands, begging her to run away with him. They both knew that if they stayed in Boston there was no way they could be together. Mary’s parents would interfere.
They planned their escape for weeks, saving up money (or stealing it, in Mary’s case). When they finally managed to scrape up enough cash for a train ticket, they went West, taking only what they could fit in a few small suitcases. They were only 18 and 20 at the time. They traveled west to Wyoming and managed to finance a small farm. It was just big enough for them to grow crops and keep a few cattle.
Mary knew that it wasn’t going to be the extravagant lifestyle she was used to, but she didn’t care. As long as she was with Jacob, she knew she could be happy. She loved him dearly and knew that she didn’t need money in order to live a rich life. It took some adjusting, but soon she was happy, and she and Jacob were looking forward to their lives together.
They’d been married for less than a year when her beloved Jacob was shot dead in the streets of the nearest town for a few pieces of gold and his horse. It was such a random act of violence, and nothing could have prepared Mary to lose Jacob. Their marriage was short, but they’d loved each other for so long that her life seemed empty without him.
It was nearly October now, and there was a chill in the air, though it was still warm enough to go outside without a jacket. Her black mourning veil fluttered in the gentle breeze, and she wiped the tears out of her mocha-colored eyes, the rouge on her cheeks smearing just a little. She’d moved to Wyoming and taken up a simpler life, but she was still a woman of high-class breeding who prided herself in her beauty and fashion. Jacob made a good living when they moved to Wyoming and managed to keep Mary comfortable.
She never took much of an interest in the farm, and now that Jacob was gone, it was falling apart around her. In the six months since he’d passed, their thriving ranch fell into a state of disrepair that seemed far too overwhelming for Mary to tackle. With no savings and no income, Mary was struggling to afford simple things like food and candles. There was no spare money to hire farm hands to care for the animals and crops.
A neighbor who felt badly for Mary helped her slaughter her pigs so that she would have food for the winter. Winter was still months away, but her food storages were already running low. With every day that passed, the situation seemed more and more hopeless. Mary wasn’t sure where to turn.
Tears pooled in her eyes as she turned to leave the graveyard, glancing over her shoulder at the headstone one more time before trekking her way up the side of the tall hill that led to her farm. She’d wanted her husband buried within walking distance, so she’d requested that a plot be dug for him at the bottom of the hill under his favorite tree. Jacob would sit under that tree and play his guitar for hours, singing for Mary when she wandered down to call him in for dinner. Now he would rest under that tree for all eternity. Mary was sure he would appreciate the sentiment.
She finally made her way to the top of the hill, and her heart slammed in her chest when she saw a man pinning a sign to her door. Mary gasped and picked up her dress so that it wouldn’t soak up the mud from the wet ground, and she ran to the man.
“Excuse me, sir, shat are you doing?” she asked. “This is my home.”
“Not your home anymore, lady. This land belongs to the bank now. No payments have been made on it in months.”
Chapter Two
Her eyes widened, and she reached out, grabbing the man’s arm and pulling it away from her door, ripping the paper sign off, her eyes wide and filled with anger.
“You vulture. I am a grieving widow. How dare you try and take away the last thing I have. Haven’t I lost enough?” she asked, tossing the paper to the ground.
The wind swept the paper away, and the man who’d tried to nail it to her door stared at her with a cocked brow.
“Paper or no paper, if you don’t pay your mortgage in 30 days, then
this house won’t be yours anymore. You think the banks can just give any grieving woman a break and let her live in her house without paying for it? The entire economy would buckle. Listen lady, it’s a shame you lost your husband, but the rules are the rules. We can’t go around breaking them. If you need some money, head over to the saloon. There are plenty of guys over there who would pay a pretty penny for a peek under your skirt.”
Mary’s cheeks went red, and her hand lashed out, trying to catch the man’s stubbly cheek. He caught her wrist easily and squeezed hard enough to bring her to her knees.
“Women like you—there’s a reason you never stick around long.”
Mary gasped and clawed at his hand, trying to pull away. “Let me go!”
“No one wants a woman like you,” he whispered, eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. “You don’t know your place.” He pushed her away and straightened his vest, turning back toward his horse and swinging a leg over the saddle.
“You start learning how to act like a lady of your stature. Maybe you’ll find a husband.” He slapped the reins and dug his heel into the horse’s side. The beast reared up and took off down the dirt path.
Mary lay in a useless pile in the wet dirt, her dress stained and her heart broken as tears began to pour down her cheeks. She let out a soft sob and covered her mouth as the skies opened up above her, thunder clapping and lightening streaking across the sky. It was only a matter of time before cold, fat drops of rain landed on her cheek and streaked down her pale skin.
It was like even the heavens were telling her it was a lost cause.
_______________________
Rick ducked out of the pouring rain and into the warmth of a local inn. The downstairs served as a saloon and restaurant, and it was packed with locals and weary travelers. Everyone mixed together in a strange way that suggested few people actually know who the locals were anymore. The barkeep cast a weary glance around the saloon, watching everyone else just as closely as he watched Rick.
He settled at the bar and held his cracked knuckle up, waving the bartender over and requesting ale. The man offered him a large metal tankard of beer, and Rick thanked him and slid a few bills across the table. He drank from it happily, enjoying the smooth, comforting taste as he all but drained it in one mighty gulp.
Rick ran a hand through his jet black hair, his green eyes scanning the room trying to take in his situation. His eyes were critical, like that of a man who hadn’t seen much luck in his life but relied on it all the same.
A man at the end of the bar caught Rick’s attention, and he stood up to take a seat near the well-dressed man. He kept a hold on his tankard, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself. A quiet man, he hated attention.
“The widow on the hill is getting desperate, you know.” He murmured, sipping his own beer. “If one of you boys wanted to bed her, all you’d have to do is promise to keep a roof over her head. She’s days away from losing that farm.”
“But who wants a woman with that much fire in her? She’d contradict you at every turn. There’s a good chance a man might end up cooking for her.”
The man in the suit who’d spoken before nodded slowly. “I suppose you’re right. She does have quite a bit of fight in her, doesn’t she?”
“More than some fight. She’s a disrespectful woman,” a fat man said, his round face red from drinking too much. “Maybe this will teach her a lesson. She can’t go around with that attitude. It will be nice seeing her have to grovel for once.”
“I couldn’t agree more. Just this afternoon she got on her knees and begged me to take the bank’s sign down. She would have done anything to keep that sign down.” He smirked wryly, clearly putting unclean thoughts in the other men’s heads.
The fat man started to speak again, but Rick turned his head, pulling the hood of his coat down to get a better look at the gathered men. They continued to talk at length of the woman on the hill, and it gave Rick an idea. Maybe, just maybe, there was a woman in this town, desperate enough to marry in order to save her farm.
He’d heard of mail-order brides before. What was so crazy about this? He found a piece of parchment on the wall, advertising a woman’s magazine, and he tore it down. The barkeep was nice enough to find him a fountain pen, and he went about writing his ad. It was an offer that included payment of the mortgage and farm work until a marriage would be conducted after Christmas. He didn’t state much about himself except for the fact that he was a farmer and could help repair just about any farm that had fallen into disrepair.
He posted the ad on little community board and rented a room for the night, sleeping well into late afternoon the next day. When he wandered down to get some food, he noticed there was an address, directions and a name scrawled on his ad.
“Mary,” he murmured curiously.
Chapter Three
Mary sighed and ran an ivory brush through her long blond curls before carefully braiding them into a simple plait. She sighed and looked in the mirror of her vanity at her pale face and ran her fingers along her own plump lips. Maybe this was how it was always supposed to be. She’d been a fool to fall in love and think that it could be that simple. She was a fool to think that she could be in love and be happy. Girls like her weren’t meant to be in love.
She should have stayed in Boston and married a lawyer or a businessman. She should have just been happy with her life the way it was. If she’d just accepted her plot in life, Jacob would still be alive, and at least she’d have a dream. Mary closed her eyes at the thought and dropped her head into her hands, fighting off the tears. She was surprised she could still cry. She’d cried so much these last few months.
A knock on the door dragged her from her thoughts, and her head snapped up at the sound, eyes wide and confused. She stood from her vanity and moved to answer the door, cracking it open just enough to see who was outside. The storm from the night before was still raging and she could barely make out the shape of a man.
“Are you Mary?”
“I am,” she said. “Who are you?”
“Did you reply to an ad in the saloon for a mail-order bride?”
She was silent for a long moment, brows furrowed. “Who are you?” she asked again, her voice stronger and more demanding.
“My name is Rick Larson. I’m the one who put that ad up in the first place.”
“You can help save my farm?” she asked nervously. She knew she couldn’t do it on her own, and if this man was who he said he was, then he was her saving grace.
“I can,” he said, sounding cool, calm and collected.
Mary hesitated for a moment but slowly opened the door. She realized that trusting this man was dangerous and probably not the wisest idea, but what did she have to lose? At this point, death didn’t seem like the worst possibility.
As Rick crossed the threshold, he ducked down to avoid hitting his head. He was a tall man and stood at a good 6-feet-4-inches, an impressive height to anyone, but even more so to Mary. She was a small woman, weighing barely 100 pounds, which suited her 5-foot-3-inch frame. She took a moment to look him up and down, and then took a step away from him, instantly regretting letting him into her house.
“How do you think you can save my farm?” she aksed, putting a hand to her chest in an attempt to still her racing heart.
“As I said in my ad, I have enough cash to pay the mortgage until Christmas, and I’m a skilled farmer. I can make this land profitable again.”
She frowned a little and wrapped her arms around her own small frame. “And you’re willing to do all this in exchange for a wife?”
“Of course not. I want joint ownership of the farm.”
“And if we get married, you’ll be able to take over ownership of my farm.”
“Precisely.”
“I know I responded to your ad, but I’m having second thoughts,” she said. “I’m not even sure I can trust you,” she whispered, her heart beating erratically.
“Well, you have a decisio
n to make. Either we are married by Christmas or you lose your farm.”
His words were blunt and almost cruel. There was no patience to his voice, and it made her heart drop into her stomach. Was this really her only option? She swallowed and ran her hand through her own hair.
“You are asking a lot of me very suddenly,” she said.
“I disagree. Tomorrow is October first. You have three months to come to a decision. Three months where you will be allowed to see my work ethic and talents. By the time Christmas comes around, you will have a healthy harvest and cattle people will be willing to buy. Not the sickly creatures I spotted behind that barn,” he said. “You say that I am asking you to make a decision quickly. Well, if anything, I’ve bought you more time. Those banker men were ready to steal this home out from under you. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than being on the street.”
Tears came to Mary’s eyes, and she nodded numbly, realizing that everything he said was true. “All right, I suppose I can take a chance on you, Rick.”
“You’re making the right decision, Mary. I hope we can make this little transaction work.” He offered Mary his hand, and the blond woman stared at it for a moment, unsure of whether she was making the right decision.
She finally took his hand and nodded slowly. “Me, too. Hope is all I have now.”
Chapter Four
The deal was that Rick would sleep in the barn. It was warm and dry enough to be more than comfortable. The very first night she’d sent him away with a pile of blankets and feather down pillows, and he’d thanked her for it. She knew that if Jacob could see her trusting this complete stranger, he’d have a heart attack. Mary was a sheltered woman who came from a very protective family. She’d never learned to be cynical because everyone around her did that for her. She was free to be as trusting and naïve as she wanted. It was one of the things that terrified Jacob about moving out West. There always seemed to be someone ready to take what they wanted from you or hurt you. That’s what happened to Jacob, and Mary could only pray that wouldn’t happen to her as well.
Regency Romance: Fallen Duchess (A Historical Victorian Murder Mystery Love Regency Romance) Page 44