A Match Made in Texas

by Mary Connealy

  He reached the top of the rise, and his throat constricted when he saw a plume of black smoke coiling up from the valley floor. Breathing a prayer, he bent low along the horse’s neck and spurred his mount for all it was worth.

  Aunt Martha stumbled from the barn when he slid to a halt in the ranch yard, a stack of empty grain sacks in her arms. “Help me soak these in the horse trough,” she panted. “We’ve got to get that fire out before it reaches the barn.”

  Andrew glanced toward the barn. “Where’s Lucy?”

  Aunt Martha pressed her hand to her chest and gasped for breath. “She went out a while ago to gather some herbs for me. She headed off that way.” Worry creased her forehead as she pointed in the direction of the smoke.

  Her statement hit him like a fist in the gut. Leaping from his horse, he grabbed an armload of the burlap sacks and dunked them in the trough. Gathering up the water-soaked bags, he raced off toward the fire, calling back over his shoulder, “Bring more sacks if you’ve got them, and a shovel, too.”

  As he ran, he searched the terrain, straining for a glimpse of Lucy. He doubted she would have gone out of sight of the buildings. In that case, she had to have noticed the smoke and would be on her way to help. But he couldn’t see any sign of her. Where was she?

  Sprinting up to the edge of the fire, he dumped the sodden pile of sacks on the ground, snatched up the top one, and started to beat out the flames.

  Lucy shook her head and fingered the lump on her forehead. She sat up but then realized it was easier to breathe closer to the ground. She lay still for a moment to catch her breath, then remembered the urgency of her situation. She had to get out of the shroud of smoke, had to make it to the house and get help.

  Wadding up her apron, she pressed the crumpled fabric over her mouth and pushed herself to her knees, ready to press on. But which way? In the moments she’d lain stunned upon the ground, the smoke had thickened. If she chose the wrong direction, she chanced running straight into the fire.

  Scrambling to her feet, she blinked back stinging tears and fought down the panic that rose up in her. She had to think! The wrong choice could prove fatal.

  Heat pressed against her, and the sound of crackling flames smote her ears. She had to get out while there was still time—before there was no longer a chance of escape. A few feet away, a clump of sagebrush burst into flame. Lucy leaped back and a ragged scream tore from her throat.

  Andrew tossed the smoldering sack aside and grabbed a wet one from the pile. Aunt Martha raced up beside him with more sacks in one arm and a shovel in the other. Without a word, she took the sack from his hands and handed him the shovel.

  Gripping the handle, he threw a scoopful of dirt on the flames, then froze. Had that been a cry? He glanced at his aunt. “That sounded like Lucy.”

  Aunt Martha nodded, her face pale. Trading her wet sack for the shovel, she said, “Go find her. I’ll keep working here.”

  Andrew circled around the edge of the smoke-filled area, shouting Lucy’s name again and again. Fear clamped his heart at the thought of her being trapped in the flames. Hearing a racking cough, he turned toward the direction it had come from, took a deep breath, and plunged into the black cloud. He’d taken only a few steps when he nearly stumbled over her, down on all fours with her head hanging low. Covering her head with the wet burlap, he scooped her up and ran back the way he came.

  Emerging into the clearer air, he carried Lucy out of harm’s way before he set her on the ground and mopped at her face with his bandanna. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  Lucy gasped for air, then took a deeper breath. “Thank God you’re here! I didn’t know which way to go. I thought I was trapped . . . until you came along.”

  They clung together. Andrew cradled her against his chest, his cheek resting on her head.

  “I was so scared,” she whispered. “I thought I was going to die.” She shifted so she could look into his face. “I’ve never felt so alone in my life. I kept hoping someone would come, but all I saw was Curly riding Maybelle.”

  Andrew brushed his fingers across the lump on her forehead. “How hard did you hit your head?”

  Lucy pulled his hand away. “Not that hard. It seemed strange to me, too, but I know what I saw—even if it sounds a little crazy.”

  His lips twisted into a grim smile. “No crazier than the other things that have been going on around here lately.” He looked back toward the smoke, where Aunt Martha flailed away, struggling to make headway against the fire. “I have to go help her,” he said. “Will you be all right here?”

  She nodded and waved him on. “Go ahead. I’ll come as soon as I catch my breath.”

  Chapter 10

  Andrew brushed his lips against the top of Lucy’s head before he ran off. His heart ached to stay and hold her, to tell her how he felt, but that would have to wait. Right now, there was no time to waste.

  He sprinted to Aunt Martha’s side and took over the digging again, throwing one shovelful of dirt after another to smother the flames. Over the crackle of the fire, Andrew heard the pounding of hooves. He spun around to see Murphy and his cowboys riding up, with shovels strapped to their saddles. The three men leaped from their mounts and set to work with vigor.

  With the additional help, the tide was finally turned, and the flames surrendered. Andrew stared at the blackened expanse before them, scarcely able to believe they’d managed to stop the blaze. He glanced over at Aunt Martha, with Lucy beside her. Like the men, both women were streaked with soot and looked utterly exhausted.

  Aunt Martha let out a shaky sigh. “Thank the Lord. When all was said and done, there was more smoke than fire, but it still could have wiped us out.”

  Andrew nodded and watched Curly and Jasper tote buckets of water from the horse trough and upend them over the smoldering scrub brush. He picked up his shovel and stirred the wet ashes to make sure the fire was out. Then he leaned back on his heels and turned to Murphy. “We appreciate your help.”

  The rancher smiled, looking as relieved as Andrew felt. “Glad we were close by. The minute we saw the smoke, we grabbed up the shovels and headed over here. It looked for all the world like the house and barn were aflame.”

  Jasper raked his fingers through his hair, leaving it standing up in blackened spikes. “Curious how that happened. The wind’s blowing up a storm, but there’s been no lightning. I can’t figure out how a fire got started in the first place.”

  “That is a puzzle.” Andrew eyed Murphy as he spoke.

  “I’m just grateful no one was hurt.” Aunt Martha’s voice choked. “When you went looking for Lucy, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see the two of you again.” She dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her apron.

  Murphy tugged on his Stetson. “Since everybody is in one piece, the boys and I better head back to work.” The three men turned and started toward their horses.

  “Hold on a minute,” Andrew said. “There’s something we need to talk about.”

  Something in Andrew’s tone put Lucy on alert. She watched as he stepped toward the departing men, his mouth set in a grim line.

  Murphy and the cowboys turned to face him.

  Andrew hooked his thumbs in his belt. “I rode up to the county seat this morning. Had a nice chat with the county recorder.”

  Murphy’s brow crinkled. “Oh?”

  Keeping his focus locked on the rancher, Andrew said, “Aunt Martha, did you know the Santa Fe is thinking of running a new line of track out this way?”

  Lucy swiveled her head to look at Martha, who seemed every bit as puzzled as Lucy felt.

  The older woman shrugged. “I hadn’t heard anything about it. I guess it’s a sign of progress, but it doesn’t really affect me any.”

  “It might not,” Andrew agreed, still keeping his eyes on Murphy, “except that the new line they’re proposing would come straight through your property.”

  Martha’s jaw sagged. “Through the Diamond S?”

  Andrew nodded. “
Through the Two Bar M, too, according to the plat map I saw.”

  Murphy spread his hands. “That’s all very interesting, but I assume it’s just talk at the moment.” He started to turn back toward his horse.

  “Unless you happen to have inside information.” Andrew’s words stopped the rancher in his tracks. “In that case, it’s a situation made to order for someone who wants to do a little land speculating.”

  “I suppose it would be.” Murphy shifted from one foot to the other. His eyes darted from Andrew to Martha and back to Andrew again.

  “In fact,” Andrew went on, “it seems someone has been doing just that—buying up property along the proposed line at a rock-bottom price. It’s a clever scheme. All he has to do is hold on and then make a killing when the railroad comes through.”

  Murphy’s face grew deathly pale. Martha took a step toward the rancher. “What’s he talking about, Carson?”

  Andrew jabbed his finger toward Murphy. “I’m saying your good neighbor is the one who bought up that land on the quiet, working his way right along the path the new line will take. The Diamond S is the last piece he needs in order to own it all.”

  Murphy snorted. “It shouldn’t come as any surprise that I’ve been buying up land. You both know I’ve wanted to expand my holdings.”

  Martha shook her head at Andrew. “Those are mighty strong words without anything to back them up. Carson and I have known each other for years, and he’s never breathed a word to me about wanting to buy the Diamond S.”

  “Because he knew you wouldn’t consider selling.” Andrew flicked a glance at his aunt. “It seems awfully coincidental that he started buying up those other properties about the same time you started seeing all those strange things around the ranch. The timing seems just a little too convenient. . . .”

  Turning back to Murphy, he raised his voice a notch. “Especially since you’re the one who gave me the idea that Aunt Martha wasn’t quite right in her mind, and I might need to move her off the place for her own good.”

  Martha’s eyes glittered. “Is that so?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with buying land,” Murphy protested.

  “But there’s plenty wrong in trying to intimidate someone to get it . . . especially an old friend.”

  Lucy held her breath when Andrew clenched his hands and stepped forward. His face was tight with the effort to control himself.

  “Was that your plan all along, Murphy? You knew she’d never leave willingly, so you tried to come up with a way to make me force her to move into town. Once she was off the ranch, you could take the place off our hands . . . at a price favorable to yourself, of course. Flying cows, glowing specters—it must have taken a bit of doing to pull it all off.”

  Jasper backed away from Murphy, looking as though he’d bitten into something sour. “You did all that to Miss Martha?” He turned to Andrew. “You know I’d never have a part in anything like this, don’t you?”

  Andrew studied the cowboy for a long moment, then nodded. “I’ve known you most of my life, Jasper, and you’re a good man. I can’t see you stooping to that kind of double-dealing.” He turned an assessing gaze on Curly. “Jasper worked for Uncle Ebenezer all those years. He truly cares about Aunt Martha. But you’re Murphy’s man, through and through.”

  “This is preposterous!” Murphy blustered. “Think about it, Andrew. You told me yourself you haven’t found any sign of intruders. Martha has been letting her imagination get the best of her. It could happen to anyone . . . especially someone who’s getting up in years.”

  Martha sputtered, but Lucy saw a flicker of doubt in Andrew’s eyes.

  Murphy pressed his point. “As I recall, the only horse tracks you’ve seen are your own or where the boys and I have ridden straight up to the house. There’s hardly anything suspect about that.”

  Riding up to the house. An image flashed into Lucy’s mind. She stepped forward and seized Andrew’s arm. “It’s Maybelle.”

  Andrew scrunched his brows together. “What?”

  Lucy pointed at Curly, whose face took on a pasty hue. “I saw you out there, on the other side of the fire. You were riding Maybelle. That’s how you came around without leaving telltale tracks, isn’t it?”

  The cowboy’s eyes grew round. He took a quick step back and held up his hands. “It was the boss’s idea, not mine. He paid me extra—said it wasn’t doing any harm. That cow is as tame as anything, and she’s up around the house all the time. He figured if I rode her in here, you’d never know anyone had been around.”

  “No harm?” Lucy echoed. “You made Martha’s nephew doubt her sanity and stole her peace of mind. You’re no better than a thief!”

  Curly hung his head.

  “So you’re the one Martha shot at the night I arrived?”

  The cowboy nodded. “I didn’t know anyone else was around. Not until you ran outside.” He sent a sidelong glance toward Martha. “You almost got me, over by the rain barrel. It like to scared me to death.”

  Martha’s expression looked as though it had been etched in stone. “I knew none of that business with the flying cows was real. It was quite a stunt, though. How did you manage it?”

  Curly looked down at his boots. “I tacked a tissue paper cutout to a Chinese lantern. It floated up in the air as pretty as you please, as long as the candle stayed lit.”

  “But there was somebody else with you that night. Who was up on the roof?”

  “Nobody.” Curly gulped. “Once you let off that shotgun, I hid behind the barn and started lobbing pebbles up there with a slingshot. They made quite a noise rattling around on that tin roof, and it kept you from looking over where I was. I just sat real quiet until you went back inside and things settled down. Then Maybelle and I made our getaway.”

  “What about the ‘ghost’?” Lucy asked.

  Curly met her eyes, then looked down at his feet. “I painted a sheet with some stuff Mr. Murphy gave me. It doesn’t look any different in the daylight, but in the dark it glows a spooky green. I rigged it on a line I stretched between the windmill and the barn, then I climbed up into the hayloft and tugged it along. Figured it would scare you enough that no one would do any shooting . . . but I was wrong.” He ran his finger around his collar. “I barely managed to tug the sheet in through a crack in the barn before you both came around the corner. I thought sure you were going to catch me that time.”

  “And the fire today?” Andrew took a menacing step toward the cowboy. “Were you behind that, too?”

  Curly’s eyes widened, and he took a step back. “It wasn’t supposed to blaze up like that, but the wind gusted and it got out of hand. I only meant to put up some smoke, enough to draw the two of them out of the house so I could get inside and look for the deed to the place. When I saw it catch like that, I got on Maybelle and lit out to fetch the boss and Jasper to help put it out.”

  Martha’s eyes blazed. Balling her hands into fists, she advanced on Carson Murphy. “Of all the rotten scoundrels! To think you could do something so underhanded after all the years Ebenezer and I considered you a friend!”

  She waved her fist under the rancher’s nose. “You oughta be grateful I don’t have my shotgun in my hands right now. I’d show you a thing or two. In fact . . . you’d better get on your horse and hightail it out of here before I go inside and grab it. I am sorely tempted to fill your britches with buckshot.” She watched while her former friend scrambled onto his horse and loped away.

  “As for you two . . .” She wheeled on the cowboys, who stumbled over each other in their haste to back away. Curly sprinted for his horse and followed in Murphy’s tracks.

  “I had nothin’ to do with it, Miss Martha!” Jasper took a step toward his former employer, then appeared to think better of it. “All the same, I expect I ought to be heading off, too.” He swung up into his saddle and gave her a plaintive look. “Does this mean I won’t be gettin’ any more of your pies?”

  “We’ll talk about that after I
’ve had time to cool off. Come back in a day or two.” The shadow of a smile touched Martha’s lips. “Better make that three or four.”

  She stared after the departing riders and shook her head. “Carson Murphy—who’d have thought it? Ebenezer always thought he was the salt of the earth. Such a shame, what greed can do to a man.”

  She let out a long sigh, then turned to Lucy and Andrew. “If you two don’t mind, I think I’ll go upstairs for a spell. All this excitement has tuckered me out.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Lucy asked. “Do you want me to come up with you?”

  Martha patted Lucy’s arm. “Thanks, but I need some time to pull myself together and do some praying so the Lord and I can get this sorted out. I’m havin’ some real un-Christian thoughts right now.”

  Chapter 11

  Lucy watched her disappear inside the house, a welter of emotions wheeling through her. What a relief to know the truth had come out at last and Martha’s mental state was no longer in question. At the same time, she grieved for the pain Martha must feel after being betrayed by someone she’d long considered a friend.

  And what’s going to happen to me? Now that Andrew no longer needed someone to keep an eye on his aunt, was there any reason for her to stay?

  When the door closed behind Martha, Lucy turned around to face that question head on, to ask Andrew straight out. She squared her shoulders . . . and caught him watching her with a serious expression. When he continued to stare without speaking, she suddenly realized how she must look, with her ash-covered dress and her hair straggling around her face. She clapped her hands to her cheeks. “I must look a fright. Let me go inside and freshen up. Then I need to discuss something with you.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with the way you look.” He stepped closer, and his expression took on an intensity that left her breathless. “For a moment there, I was afraid I’d lost you,” he whispered.

  Lucy brushed a strand of hair away from her face and gave a shaky laugh. “But you found me. And thanks to you, I’m safe.” She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Now that we know Martha wasn’t imagining things after all, I don’t suppose you’ll be needing me here any longer.”