Her Western Heart_Seeing Ranch series

by Florence Linnington

  “Where would he sell them?” Beau asked right away. “They’re all branded with your mark. No one around Shallow Springs would buy the heads off of him, and he hasn’t left town since the rustling started. I see him lazing around there every time I go in.”

  “He could be taking them into the mountains and selling them there.”

  Beau didn’t answer, which told Mitchell he was giving the new theory some serious thought.

  “What do you think?” Mitch pressed as they crawled their walk, coming up on their drive.

  “I don’t know.” Beau sighed. “He doesn’t strike me as an entrepreneur, even in the easiest sense. Half the time I see him, he’s drunk or sleeping in the shade—likely because he got so drunk he couldn’t stay awake. Taking the cattle up into the hills, even a few at a time...”

  Mitch understood. Such a task took real stamina.

  “The big question for me is whether these two events are connected,” Beau said. “The rustling and the poisoning.”

  “Why would they be? That doesn’t make sense.” Mitch could feel his anger rising as he talked. He took a deep breath and pushed the fury down. He needed to keep his head calm and clear. Losing his temper again would do no good. He’d been snapping almost non-stop all week, showing his worst side not only to Gemma, but to his team as well.

  “I don’t know. It’s just odd that things were good for quite a while… and now, this. Two blows at once.”

  Mitch ran his hand across his jaw, the stubble scraping his palm. “Samuel could think that if he beat my morale down enough, I’d turn tail and hide. I’ll give you that.”

  “Yup, but rustling is one thing. But poisoning cattle? Where’s he going to sell bad meat?”

  “He could be selling the missing heads to rustlers in the mountains.”

  “But he’d try to kill the cattle?”

  That one stumped Mitch. He’d run out of answers. But, like Beau had said, motives could be easily hidden. Maybe the rustling and the poisoning were connected. Maybe they weren’t. It didn’t seem like they were going to find any answers that night, though.

  At the house, they said their good nights, Beau going down the hill to his cabin. Mitch stayed where he was, standing with arms folded. Though he had a cabin all to himself waiting for him at the bottom of the hill, he wasn’t ready to retreat to it yet. There was sure to be another sleepless night waiting for him there, one full of tossing and turning and voices filling his head.

  Warm milk. That would help him sleep. It’s what his mother had given him when he was little. Clara still made it for him sometimes, though he always acted like he didn’t want it.

  As he climbed the steps, he saw a dark mass moving out of the corner of his eye, darting from the pillar to the wall. Mitch tensed up and reached for his holster before he remembered he had left his gun in his cabin.

  “Who’s there?” he demanded.

  The figure stepped forward. “It’s me.”

  “Gemma,” he breathed, the tension flooding from him. “What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”

  “It’s not yet midnight.”

  “Still, it’s not safe to be out here. Not with everything going on.”

  “I’m sorry,” she softly said. “I just could not sleep.”

  Mitch sighed. “I suppose I’m not the only one. How long have you been out here for?”

  “I don’t know. A while… I lost track of time. I’ve just been watching the stars.”

  Her confession made his chest ache. He wished they could have spent the evening staring into the sky together, instead of apart, him busy with the ranch and her probably hating him.

  “I was going inside for a glass of milk. Would you like one?”

  She came closer, her white dress making her more noticeable in the dark than Beau had been. “That would be lovely.”

  He held the door open for her and they quietly walked through the house, Mitchell’s eyes on the back of Gemma’s form the whole way. Once she was gone, he would miss her more than he could have ever predicted. He was afraid the loss might even be akin to losing his folks all over again.

  In the kitchen, Gemma lit the oil lamp on the table. Before Mitch could pull the milk from the ice box, she stepped in front of him and did it herself.

  “You prefer it warm?” she asked, turning to him. She was in the crescent of the lamp’s light, the flame flickering in her eyes.

  “Yes. I can do it.”

  “No. I can. It’s my job. You have a seat.”

  He obeyed, settling down into a chair and watching as she got a fire going in the stove and filled a pan with milk. They stayed silent as she stirred and the familiar sweet smell of hot milk grew.

  When it was ready, she poured the liquid into two cups and settled at the table with Mitchell. Her braid was loose, bits of stray hair coming out of it and falling around her face. She was the most beautiful he’d ever seen her.

  “How is it?” she asked, nodding at his cup.

  He took a tentative sip and found the temperature perfect. “It’s just right.”

  She sighed in relief. “I have never heated milk up before.”

  Mitch studied her in interest. “Yet, you knew what English Yew was. You knew everything about it.”

  Gemma shyly tucked some of the loose hair behind her ear. “They are two very different things.”

  “Hm.” Mitch knew he needed to look away from her, that he needed to stop staring, but he couldn’t bring himself to. “Thank you for that. I don’t think you’ll ever know just how much you’ve helped me out.”

  “You found out who put it there?”

  “No. But, God willing, I will.”

  Gemma wrapped her hands around her mug, looking thoughtful. “I asked God for His help last night. It’s the first time I’ve done that in quite a while.”

  “Then, He led you to the yew.”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “I believe He did.”

  Mitchell looked down into his mug, tension bunching in his shoulders once more. “I’ve been talking to God myself an awful lot lately.”

  “That is good.”

  “I don’t know…. For the first time in my life, I’m starting to wonder...” He couldn’t go on, unsure himself just what he believed.

  “Whether He is listening or not?” Gemma prompted.

  “I’m sure He’s listening. But what He wants from me, I don’t know.”

  “Oh, Mitchell,” she moaned. “You’re doing your best.” She quickly reached out and placed her hand on his wrist. A rush of warmth traveled up his arm and their eyes connected. She must have suddenly realized what she was doing, because she quickly withdrew her arm and sat up straight.

  “At least from what I—from what I can tell,” she nervously said.

  With Gemma’s touch gone, so was the warmth. An extraordinary ache filled Mitchell’s body and soul. How could he go on without this wonderful woman around?

  “I don’t deserve you,” he deeply grunted, unable to get his voice up to a normal talking level.

  Gemma frantically shook her head. “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. Everything you’ve done—”

  “Has been driven by fear and anger,” he interrupted. “The whole time you’ve been here, I’ve been a man without any sense of direction. I’ve been terrified of losing the ranch, of losing you. It’s made me say awful things.”

  “I understand. I really do.”

  Mitch smiled sadly at her. “I doubt you really do.”

  She pushed some more hair behind her ear and looked at the floor. “I am not perfect myself, Mitchell. I have done things that many would find contemptible.”

  “For example?”

  She shyly looked back at him. “I once locked a suitor out on a balcony.”

  Mitch laughed. “No, you did not.”

  “I did. I could have just told him I was not interested, but instead, I decided to have some fun with him. So, you see, we all have our secrets.”

&
nbsp; “The woman I see in front of me wouldn’t do that,” Mitch chuckled.

  “I have changed a lot since coming here,” she gravely answered.

  Her somber response made the smile vanish from his face. “You have,” he admitted.

  “A few days can do a lot to a person, I suppose, if they are difficult ones. Perhaps… perhaps this hard time is God’s way of giving you an opportunity to change. For the better, I mean.”

  Mitch sat stock still. He’d never heard such a theory before, but as Gemma’s words soaked into his soul, it began to make sense. Maybe God wasn’t testing him. Could it be He was giving Mitch an opportunity to become a stronger and wiser person?

  Was all of what had seemed to be bad timing actually the best? The rustling, Gemma’s arrival, the English Yew… were all these events intentionally linked together?

  He gazed back at Gemma, who was watching him with her own interest. “I want to be better,” he admitted. “For you.”

  Gemma bit into her bottom lip and signs of a smile showed there.

  “I don’t know how I can do that without a ranch, though.”

  Her joyful expression turned into one of pain. “This isn’t over yet. We found the yew! It’s one clue that might lead us somewhere else.”

  Mitch liked how she had included both of them in the sentence, as if they were a team.

  “Please,” she gasped. “Just don’t give up hope yet. Can you promise me that?”

  It was the most passionate he’d yet seen her. Just when Mitch thought Gemma Campbell couldn’t become more fervid, she somehow found a way to.

  Mitch nodded, his own enthusiasm growing. “I haven’t given up. And I won’t.”

  Gemma smiled wide, her face glowing like it was made of sunlight. “I knew you wouldn’t.”

  “You believe in me, don’t you?” he whispered, the idea too good for him to fully accept. After the short temper he’d shown her, accusing her of fancying Nat, and telling her it would be best if she went back to New York, she still had faith in him.

  Just knowing that gave him a burst of strength. With a woman like Gemma behind him, Mitch felt as if he could move mountains.

  He chose his words carefully. He wanted to be honest, but did not want to give her false hope. “I will work even harder to fix things around here. I want you with me, Gemma. I want you to be my wife, whether or not we can keep the ranch.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her with a hand held up. “One more thing. If, when all of this is over with, you decide you do not like the outcome, I will release you completely from any obligation to me.”

  “And I will not go,” she confidently said without skipping a beat.

  Mitchell chuckled. “I knew when I first laid eyes on your photograph that you’d be something to handle.”

  Gemma smiled. “Do you still not believe I locked a suitor out on a balcony?”

  “I am starting to see it more and more.”

  Nearby, a floorboard creaked and a door shut.

  “Clara,” Mitch whispered.

  “I hope we did not wake her up.”

  “You should run to bed before she scolds me for keeping you awake.”

  Gemma smiled wickedly. “I would insist that it was my pleasure entirely.”

  Quietly pushing his chair back, Mitchell stood.

  “Good night, Mitchell Reed.”

  “Good night, Gemma Campbell,” he whispered.

  Gemma Campbell for now, he thought as he went outside. With her help and devotion, he was going to do everything to ensure she would one day become Gemma Reed.

  21

  21. Gemma

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Another early morning was under Gemma’s belt and it had not been difficult at all. In fact, she had not been able to wait to get up. The whole night, she’d been only half-asleep, thinking about Mitchell when she should have been resting.

  She almost could not believe he had agreed to keep persevering. After their conversation in the main room the other night, she had been so sure he was giving up. But now, he wasn’t! He was pushing forward, just like she was.

  “You’re in a grand mood this morning,” Clara commented from the other end of the kitchen.

  Gemma used the corner of her apron to pull the piping hot biscuits out of the stove. “Am I?”

  “You’re singing.” Clara laughed.

  “Oh!” Gemma giggled as well. “I had no idea.”

  “You have a lovely voice. Perhaps you missed your calling for the stage?”

  Gemma felt her face flush and she turned it away. She had taken voice lessons under one of the greatest opera singers in New York for years, but it seemed like mentioning that all the way out in Wyoming would be akin to bragging.

  The front door opened, announcing the arrival of the first hands. Gemma knew Mitchell likely wouldn’t be one of them; he’d taken to having someone bring his meal out to him so he wouldn’t have to quit whatever he was doing in the fields or barns. As she rounded the corner with the basket of biscuits, though, she came face-to-face with non-other than the man himself. A short little gasp left her lips and she nearly fell over, she stopped walking so quickly.

  “Good morning,” he huskily said, taking his hat off.

  “Good morning.”

  His brown eyes danced with life, full of an energy she’d never seen in them. They drew her in, held her close…

  “Are you two just gon’ give each other puppy dog eyes all day?” someone asked.

  Gemma started and looked around herself. Five hands, Daniel and Beau included, were watching Gemma and Mitchell with amused expressions.

  “Leave them alone,” Clara admonished, coming into the dining room with the coffee. “They’re engaged.”

  “They sure do make it look good.” Daniel grinned.

  The hands laughed, making Gemma’s cheeks heat up.

  “You all can stow it,” Mitchell told them, not looking away from Gemma, the spark in his eyes still there.

  The men all settled down to breakfast, eating just as fast as they always did. Though Mitchell was busy talking with Beau, there were several instances where Gemma caught sight of his gaze on her. Each time, a delightful shiver ran across her shoulders and down her back. The way Mitchell Reed now looked at her made her feel like she was really his—like she truly was to become his wife and nothing would get in the way of that.

  With breakfast wrapping up, Gemma scooped the empty plates and carried them to the kitchen. Footsteps followed her.

  “How did you sleep?”

  Gemma suppressed her smile as she turned to Mitchell. “Very well, thank you. And you?”

  He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “It could always be better. I’m about to head into town to do some asking around, see if I can dig up any information that might help us out.”

  “Oh.” She looked for the appropriate thing to say. “That sounds like a good idea.”

  Mitchell had never before shared his plans with her like this. Not that it did not please her. She liked the idea of knowing where he would be all day, as opposed to staring forlornly at the horizon in between chores, wondering just what he was up to.

  “Have a good day.” He tipped his hat at her and went out the side door.

  “You, too,” Gemma whispered, only realizing once he was gone that she was talking to a window.

  Clara’s arrival in the kitchen shook Gemma from her trance. She turned and got busy at the wash bucket.

  “Don’t let those men get to you.”

  Gemma smiled over at Clara, who was opening a window to let in the morning breeze. The sky was still black, but showing signs of change. In another minute, it would be a dark blue, and in just a few more, it would be full of light. “They don’t bother me. I know what men can be like.”

  Clara rolled her eyes. “Some days, I wish I didn’t.”

  “But you take care of them so well.” Gemma laughed. “They need you.”

  “That they do.” Clara no
dded and came to join Gemma at the wash bucket. Taking a sopping wet plate from Gemma, she dried it off with a towel and set it on the shelf next to her. “Some of these boys would starve before the week was over without a woman to cook for them.”