A Match Made in Texas

by Mary Connealy

  “My aunt is a wonderful woman.” Andrew’s voice jolted her back to the moment. He seemed to choose his words with care. “She and Uncle Ebenezer pretty much raised me. Since he passed away three years ago, she and I are the only near family either one of us has left.”

  Lucy’s breath caught in her throat, and she knotted her hands in her lap.

  “Are you all right?”

  Lucy bobbed her head in a brief nod. “It’s just that I know how that feels—being alone in the world, I mean. My mother died when I was young, and I lost my father just a few months ago.”

  She took a deep breath and tried to steady her voice. “Shortly after the funeral, I learned he made some bad investments and lost everything. Not only was my father gone, but the house and all our possessions, as well. I don’t have a penny to my name.” The confession brought a bitter taste to her mouth.

  Andrew remained silent a moment. “That’s why you spoke of this job as being a godsend?”

  Lucy looked away and sighed. “I was living on the charity of a friend’s parents. I had to find some way to get out of there and make my own way.” Pulling herself together, she squared her shoulders and faced him again. “Enough about me. You were talking about your relationship with your aunt.”

  Andrew studied her before he continued. “We’ve always been close. Aunt Martha has been good to me, and I want to make her remaining years as happy as possible. I’ve offered to buy a small house for her in North Fork, but she’s stubbornly independent. She absolutely refuses to leave the ranch.”

  Lucy looked out over the gently rolling landscape. “I can understand not wanting to leave the place where she’s lived for so many years.” She felt a pang at the memory of her childhood home, now in someone else’s hands.

  “So can I. The Diamond S has been her home since she and my uncle built it up nearly twenty years ago.”

  Lucy polished off another bite of her apple. “I’m sure she treasures your visits. Are you able to see her often?”

  “Not as often as either of us would like. Especially not since I started a business in North Fork a year ago. I sell and install windmills to ranchers and farmers all over this part of the state.” His face took on a glow, and he seemed to grow taller on the buckboard seat. “There’s something about the look on a rancher’s face when the wind turns the vanes and the pump jack starts sucking up water and pumping it into the tank for the first time.”

  Lucy’s lips parted. “Streams in the desert. That must seem almost like a miracle.”

  A smile lit Andrew’s face. “That’s it exactly. This is a wonderful land, filled with promise. All it needs to be a paradise is water—and I can help supply that. It means a fair amount of traveling, though. I like to direct things myself when a windmill is being installed. I can leave the business in the care of my foreman while I’m gone on those trips, but I still have to stay on top of day-to-day operations.”

  He finished his apple and tossed the core to the side with an easy overhand motion. “That’s why I’m hoping this works out for Aunt Martha. I would hate to force her to leave the ranch, but it’s gotten to the point where I can’t leave her out there on her own much longer.”

  Lucy nodded, making mental notes. Martha Simms might be a frail, gray-haired widow, but she sounded spirited enough to dig in her heels and take a stand when she needed to. And that was a good thing. Lucy didn’t relish the thought of spending her days with a meek shell of a woman.

  “Is your aunt’s health sound?”

  Andrew let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Oh yes. She’s healthy enough. You won’t be dealing with an invalid, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Lucy furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand. If she’s in good health and doesn’t mind being on her own, why does she need someone to stay with her?”

  Andrew’s smile faded, and he shifted on the seat. “It isn’t her physical condition I’m worried about. It’s more . . . mental.”

  Lucy sat bolt upright. “You mean she’s unbalanced?”

  “No, nothing like that.” Andrew patted the air as if warding the thought away. “She isn’t deranged—exactly. It’s just that she’s been . . . imagining things.”

  Lucy eyed him narrowly. “What sort of things?”

  Andrew cleared his throat and fixed his eyes on the road ahead. “Over the past couple of months, she’s claimed to see some pretty peculiar things going on around the ranch house. She says . . .” His voice trailed off, and Lucy almost missed the next words.

  “Excuse me? Did you say something about a cow jumping over the moon?”

  Andrew paused a moment, then went on as if he hadn’t heard. “There’s nothing to it, of course, but I can’t persuade her it’s all in her head. As much as this has been preying on her mind, I’m concerned she might get herself in a situation where she could get hurt. That’s why I thought it would be a good idea to have someone around to keep an eye on her.”

  A heavy weight settled in Lucy’s stomach. “So my staying with her is all your idea? How does she feel about it?”

  “She seemed fine when we discussed it.” Andrew jiggled the reins and clucked at the horses again.

  Lucy waited for him to elaborate, but that seemed to be the extent of his conversation for the moment.

  Chapter 3

  “We’re almost there.” Andrew pulled the buckboard to a stop at the top of a low rise. “That’s the Diamond S.” He swept his arm in a broad arc, indicating the panorama below them, a broad valley ringed by cedar-studded hills. In the center of the valley, Lucy could see a cluster of buildings.

  Andrew clicked his tongue, setting the horses in motion again. Lucy leaned forward on her seat and scrutinized the buildings, trying to take in every detail.

  As they drew nearer, she focused her attention on the ranch house, a white two-story structure with shiplap siding surrounded on three sides by a wraparound porch. A brass weather vane glinted from the rooftop, and a windmill turned gently in the breeze. A flock of chickens scratched the ground near what Lucy assumed was the hen house, and a horse in the corral nickered when they drove up into the ranch yard.

  Beyond the buildings, scattered groups of cattle grazed the hillsides. All in all, a peaceful, charming scene. She could understand Martha’s reluctance to exchange this tranquility for the bustle of town life.

  Lucy eyed the livestock. “How does your aunt manage to run the ranch on her own?”

  Andrew tightened his lips, and the crease in his cheek stood out in sharp relief. “The ranch is still in operation, but Aunt Martha isn’t running it anymore. It became too much for her to handle after Uncle Ebenezer died, so she sold the stock off to Carson Murphy, whose ranch adjoins the Diamond S. Their agreement lets him run his cattle on her property. I think it gives her a sense of comfort to be able to look out across the hills and still see them out there. It’s almost like nothing has changed.”

  Lucy nodded. That would also explain why Andrew felt the need to have someone else stay out here. With no workers living on the place, it left his elderly aunt alone—isolated and vulnerable.

  Andrew stopped the horses near the broad front porch. He sprang to the ground with a lithe movement and circled the buckboard to help Lucy alight. Once she was standing on the ground, he stepped back, allowing her a moment to collect herself.

  Lucy did her best to brush the wrinkles from her skirt, then she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to push the windblown curls back into place.

  “Ready?” Andrew asked.

  She settled her hat in place and nodded. Her breath came more quickly as Andrew stepped up to the front door. A new chapter of her life was about to begin. Up to now, her thoughts had been focused on getting away from Dry Gulch and Walter’s unwanted attentions, and she hadn’t given too much thought to her first meeting with Martha Simms. Now that the moment had arrived, her nerves felt as if they were stretched as tightly as piano wire. She clasped her hands in front of her waist to keep her fingers fr
om trembling and wondered what kind of greeting she should offer.

  Martha wasn’t just a lonely old woman who was hungry for company, as she’d assumed at first. From what Andrew said, it sounded as though she suffered from some sort of delusions. Lucy felt a pang of sympathy. She could only imagine how upsetting that must be . . . for both Martha and Andrew.

  Another thought struck her. With these unsettling events going on—however imaginary they might be—how would Martha feel about taking a complete stranger into her home?

  She would probably be nervous, even a bit fearful. That meant Lucy would need to present herself as someone to be trusted so Mrs. Simms could understand right from the start that she was there to help. To that end, she must appear to be calm and gentle, yet in control.

  Turning to the door, Andrew raised his hand and gave it a loud knock. “Aunt Martha, we’re here!”

  Lucy squared her shoulders and curved her lips into a bright smile. Perhaps a reassuring hug would be a good way to establish herself as a comforting presence.

  The doorknob rattled and Lucy stepped forward, ready to spread her arms wide. The next moment, the door flew open and a tall, rawboned woman dressed in faded calico strode onto the porch.

  “What brings you out here?” she said in a raspy voice. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.” Her gaze flitted from Andrew to the buckboard. Her eyes narrowed down to slits when they lit on the trunk in the wagon bed. She glanced back toward him and seemed to notice Lucy for the first time.

  “What in thunder is all this?”

  Andrew stepped forward and laid his hand on her shoulder. “Aunt Martha, allow me to introduce Lucy Benson. She’s traveled here from Dry Gulch, and I brought her straight from the station.”

  The woman turned the full force of her glare on Lucy, who felt as though she had just been blasted by an icy blue norther. This is Andrew’s aunt? The picture Lucy had built up of a fragile, bewildered old dear shredded into a thousand pieces. She could envision the fragments of her mental image blowing across the wide Texas plains like miniature tumbleweeds.

  Martha Simms snorted. “All right, that tells me who she is and where she came from. It doesn’t tell me what she’s doing here.”

  Andrew cleared his throat and fingered the cleft in his chin. “Now, Aunt Martha, you know we talked about having someone come out to stay with you.”

  “You talked about it, you mean. I never agreed to anything. I thought it was a lot of nonsense at the time, and I haven’t changed my mind.”

  Lucy sucked in her breath and stared at the stony-faced woman before her, taking note of the jutting chin and the lips set in an uncompromising line. What’s happening here? Andrew’s aunt was the one who was supposed to be confused and fearful, but Lucy felt utterly at sea.

  Wasn’t her coming to the Diamond S supposed to be the answer to two prayers? But it was all too apparent that Martha Simms didn’t want her there. What would happen next? Was she going to be loaded onto the next train bound for Amarillo and sent packing?

  Andrew shot a sidelong glance at Lucy, then leaned toward his aunt and lowered his voice. “You know how worried I’ve been about you being out here all alone . . . especially with what’s happened lately.”

  The glare faded and an indulgent smile creased Martha’s weathered cheeks. “Boy, in the years I’ve lived out here, I’ve faced up to rustlers, bandits, and Comanches. I know you care about me, and don’t think for a moment I don’t appreciate that. But I don’t need anybody to nursemaid me.”

  Lucy’s thoughts whirled. She didn’t have a nickel to her name to pay for food or lodging. And her mysterious benefactor had provided only a one-way ticket. Even if Martha Simms ordered her back to Dry Gulch, she had no way of getting there.

  She turned to Andrew and tried to keep her chin from quivering. “Mr. Simms, I was given to understand we had an agreement, but it’s obvious your aunt had no idea I was coming. It seems I’ve been brought out here under false pretenses.”

  Andrew’s face paled beneath his tan. “No, no. It’ll be fine, really. Just give me a minute.”

  He turned to his aunt. “Could I speak to you in private?”

  The two of them walked to the far end of the porch, leaving Lucy standing alone. When they stopped, Mrs. Simms glanced back over her shoulder. Seeing Lucy’s attention fastened upon them, the woman nudged Andrew around the corner of the house.

  Lucy’s anxiety overcame her sense of propriety. Treading softly, she edged along the front of the house in silent pursuit. Eavesdropping might be frowned on in polite circles, but she simply had to know what Andrew and his aunt were saying. Her future depended on it! She reached the corner of the house and pressed herself against the wall, straining to hear.

  Even though Martha spoke in hushed tones, her rasping whisper carried to Lucy’s new position. “What were you thinking of, bringin’ that prissy little gal all the way out here? I know you’re a grown man, but I have a good mind to cut myself a switch off the big cottonwood and march you out to the woodshed.”

  Despite her concern, Lucy had to suppress a smile at the thought of muscular Andrew Simms being disciplined like a six-year-old.

  “I know you’re upset,” Andrew said, “but please hear me out. My business is growing, but I can’t concentrate on keeping up with it when I’m worried about you. It would help put my mind at ease if you had someone else out here.”

  “And I already told you there’s no need for you to fret.”

  “When we talked, I knew you weren’t happy about the idea, but I thought you’d be willing to give it a try.”

  “Well, I’m not.” Martha’s tone held a note of finality. “Last I heard, the train runs in both directions. You can ship her right back home again.”

  “That’s the problem. I can’t.”

  “And why not?” Martha demanded.

  “She has nothing to go back to. She explained it to me on the drive out here. Her parents are dead, and her father lost everything in a bad investment. She has no home, no money, no family. She’s completely on her own with no one to turn to.”

  Lucy felt her face flame at hearing her predicament laid out in such blunt terms. Had it sounded so pathetic when she told her story to Andrew? She’d only meant to give him the facts, not make a bid for his sympathy.

  A long pause followed, during which she wished the ground would open and swallow her up. Finally Martha spoke.

  “Seems like I don’t have any choice. The only Christian thing to do is let her stay—at least until we can figure something out.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Relief was evident in Andrew’s voice. “Just give this a chance. That’s all I ask.”

  Lucy scurried back to her original position before Andrew and his aunt appeared and tried to look at though she hadn’t heard every word they’d said.

  “It’s all settled.” A smile wreathed Andrew’s face, and the crease in his cheek folded into a dimple—just the way she’d thought it would. “You’re going to stay.”

  Lucy put a hand on the porch rail to steady herself as a wave of relief swept over her. Then she caught sight of Martha Simms’s grim expression and reminded herself the respite was only a temporary one.

  Andrew stepped over to the buckboard and hefted her trunk. “I’ll carry this inside. I need to head back to town before it gets too late.”

  Panic clutched at Lucy’s throat. He was leaving already?

  “Guess I’ll need to find a place for you to stay,” Martha grumbled. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

  Andrew grinned as he maneuvered the trunk through the front door. “Come on, Aunt Martha. You know you always keep a guest room ready.”

  A flicker of amusement crossed Martha’s lined face. “Take her on up to it, then. You know the way.”

  Lucy followed Andrew upstairs, where a turn to the left put them at the doorway to a cozy bedroom. She took in the colorful Irish Chain quilt on the bright brass bedstead, the braided rag rug, and the comfortabl
e-looking armchair. The room exuded warmth and welcome—totally at odds with the frosty reception she had received from Martha.

  Andrew set the trunk down beside the bed and dusted his hands. “I’ll be on my way now. I hope you’ll be comfortable here.”

  He made his way downstairs with an easy stride, and Lucy clattered along in his wake, feeling unexpectedly bereaved. Though they had met only a couple hours before, the thought of him leaving her alone with crotchety Martha Simms made her feel as though she were losing her best friend.

  “When will you be coming back?”

  Andrew didn’t seem to notice her distress. “I try to make it out here several times a week.” He paused with his hand on the knob of the front door. “Why? Do you want something from town?”

  What she wanted was for him to stay until she felt comfortable in Martha’s company . . . but that might never happen. She folded her arms across her waist and tried to look more confident than she felt. “No, thank you. I have every thing I need.”

  They stepped out onto the porch, where Martha leaned against the railing. Andrew bent to kiss his aunt’s cheek, then climbed aboard the buckboard and set the horses on their way. As she waved good-bye, Lucy couldn’t help but notice that Martha didn’t seem one bit happier than she was to see him leave.

  Chapter 4

  Martha planted her hands on her hips and eyed Lucy as though she’d found a weevil in her flour bin. “Appears you’re going to be here for a while. I still can’t see why Andrew came up with this harebrained scheme. I don’t need anybody nursemaiding me, but as long as you’re here, you might as well make yourself useful.”

  Lucy nodded eagerly, ready to do anything that might soften that gimlet-eyed gaze.

  Martha pursed her lips. “I like to sit out here on the porch of an evening and enjoy a cup of tea. Why don’t you brew up a pot and we can visit a bit. Might as well get to know each other if we’re going to be spending time together. I’ll show you to the kitchen . . .” She lifted one eyebrow. “Unless you’d rather change out of your traveling clothes first?”