Mail Order Beau

by Maya Stirling

  "That sounds marvellous," Martha told him, reaching up and moving some damp hair away from his forehead.

  "Then, later I'll get Mrs. Proudie to rustle us up a fine lunch. Just you and I. Brook has been told what he needs to do. He's in charge today. I haven't had a day off for a while. I don't intend to work on my first day as your husband." His voice was firm and clear. There was no disagreeing with him.

  Martha turned and gestured toward the discontented horse in the corral. The men were still working him hard. "I won't be riding that horse. Which one is mine?"

  Logan's eyes narrowed. "You'll ride with me. I still haven't decided which horse is right for you."

  "Ride with you?" Martha's mind filled suddenly with an image of her sitting behind Logan on the horse, her arms wrapped around him, while he held the reins, as they rode across the range. "Surely there must be a horse that's right for me," she said.

  Logan leaned in closer, and stroked the side of her face with his fingers. "I want you as close to me as possible today. You'll get a chance to ride on your own another day." He smiled mischievously. "Are you really telling me you don't want to hang on to me all day?"

  Martha laughed. It was impossible to say no to him. "Of course I'm not saying that. Let me get myself ready," she said, starting to move toward the house.

  "You don't need to do anything. You look perfect as you are," he said, pulling her to him.

  Martha felt a glow inside. Those kind of words could melt a woman's heart, and she knew it. No-one had ever said such a thing to her. She had to admit it felt fine to be given such compliments.

  "You look mighty handsome yourself," she told him, enjoying the surprised look on his face.

  "Let's get going before we embarrass the staff," he said, leading her to the horse.

  Logan stood behind her, placed one hand on either side of her chest and lifted her up. Martha made herself as comfortable as she could on the horse, trying to ensure she did so in as dignified manner as possible. She took up a position astride the horse. Logan got on the horse in front of her. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his middle, clasping her fingers together. She felt the heat of his body as she leaned in close to him.

  He took the reins and turned his head, smiling appreciatively to her. "You okay?" he asked.

  Martha nodded. She rested her head against the back of his shoulders. The horse shifted beneath them, she felt Logan's shoulders tighten, and then they were moving.

  At first Martha thought she was going to fall off to the side, but she gripped Logan tighter.

  "Hold on tight," he called back to her.

  Then the horse picked up speed with a thundering of hooves and rippling of muscle. She felt Logan take in a deep breath and lean back against Martha. She held him tighter as they started to head along the trail across the valley.

  Logan showed her the whole ranch that morning, taking his time to explain how things worked, and just how much effort and manpower was involved. Martha was amazed at the scope of the operation.

  They climbed higher up the range of hills which backed on to the ranch. She looked to the side and saw the grasslands rolling away, the distant trees that covered the low lying hills and the high mountains on the far horizon. The movement and the noise of the horse; the sensations of holding on to her husband; the scent of him; the feel of him; the breathtaking beauty of the land. All this combined to create in her an intense, almost overwhelming excitement.

  After a while the horse came to a gradual halt on a rise which overlooked a deep, wide valley. She heard the low moan of cattle, and she peered down and saw a vast number of brown animals scattered across the flat plain in the base of the valley. She saw many riders on horseback making their way amongst and around the cattle. Ranchers doing what they did every day, she guessed.

  Logan turned his body toward her. "That's the herd," he said, with a note of pride in his voice. "It's beautiful isn't it?" he asked her.

  She had to agree. From up here she estimated there must be hundreds of head of cattle down in the valley. Their sonorous, low moaning echoed around the valley. It was a weird sound.

  "It certainly is a big herd," she said. Martha wasn't any kind of expert on raising cattle. The minute the words came out of her mouth she realized they sounded ridiculous.

  Logan smiled. "It is a big herd, as you say. It's worth a lot, as long as it's well looked after."

  "What can go wrong?" Martha asked.

  Logan rubbed his chin. "There's disease, rustlers, stampede, bad weather. And that's just for starters."

  "You mean to say someone can steal our cattle," Martha said, surprised at herself for using the possessive to describe the herd in the valley below.

  "It's not so bad in these parts. Yet," Logan said, thoughtfully. "Back in Colorado there was a lot of stealing. It can get pretty ugly."

  "You mean violent?" Martha said looking at Logan with concern.

  He looked at her and seemed to take note of her worry. "Don't worry. We've got some good men to take care of the herd. Those guys have been with me for a good while. They know what to do if there's trouble. I leave it to them these days," he concluded.

  "Did you ever take on the rustlers?" she asked. She already knew what the answer would be.

  "When I came out West I had to toughen up pretty fast," he said. "You know what I used to be like. I'd get scared if a squirrel jumped out of a tree."

  Martha laughed at that exact memory. They had been sitting in his father's garden. Young Logan, fresh faced and eager had been reading her poetry and making a pretty bad job of sounding romantic. Just when the Wordsworth ode had finished a squirrel had leaped out of the tree right above their head. It had landed between Logan's feet, and he had screamed, kicking out instinctively at the little animal.

  Martha had been more impressed by Logan's reaction than by the presence of the squirrel. The animal had run off, leaving Logan red faced and apologetic. Martha had laughed about that for days afterwards.

  She dug an elbow into his side. "Don't you remember? At your father's?" she teased him.

  Logan frowned. Then the memory seemed to come back to him, and Martha was sure that his face was as red now as it had been all those years before.

  Logan coughed. "Changing the subject, my dear," he said. "What do you really think of the herd?" he asked her.

  She thought for a moment. Truth be told, she was mightily impressed. A few days ago she would never have thought it possible that she'd be owner of a herd of cattle. She knew what kind of answer he was waiting for, and she gave it to him.

  "I think it is a wonderful thing Logan and I am so proud of you."

  Logan seemed surprised at her words. "You're...proud?" he stuttered. He appeared genuinely perplexed. Maybe he was thinking about the night before when she had come across as being anything but proud of him.

  Not wanting to confuse matters Martha straightened in the saddle and changed the subject. "I'd really like to stretch my legs," she said.

  Logan nodded swiftly and moved the horse on. "There's a nice place further up the trail. It has the most beautiful views of the spread. I go there all the time."

  Logan moved the horse on, and Martha gripped him tight again. "It's funny. That's the kind of land this is," said Martha. "There are places that everyone takes a shine to. Me? I love Sweetheart Falls."

  "The town or the waterfall?" he asked.

  "Both. I especially love the waterfalls. I go there all the time with my sisters. And by myself."

  He nodded. "I know of it. Haven't been there. Yet," he said turning and giving her a wide grin. "I heard some townsfolk talk of it. We'll go there together soon. Huh?" he asked. Martha lowered her head in silent agreement.

  The horse made it's way up the trail. They were heading high up, and the air was getting fresher and cooler the higher they went. The views were splendid. Martha could see across the valleys, and far off into the distant Wyoming hills.

  Eventually they came to a flat plain on th
e edge of the hillside. There was a solitary, dried up, withered tree which looked like it had been struck by lightning at some time. Logan drew up at the tree and got off the horse. He tied the horse to the tree and then helped Martha carefully get off the horse, holding her tight as he had before at the ranch. He swung her down onto the ground with a swish of her dress, and a tumbling of her long hair. She landed in his grasp, and he briefly wrapped his arms tight around her.

  Martha pressed her hands against his hard chest, and stiffened for a moment. She looked up at him and then began to fix her hair, using it as a brief distraction to take a step back from him.

  Putting her hands on her hips she stood straight, and took a good, long look at the scene before her. It was breathtaking. She could understand why he had brought her up this spot. It was as if they had ascended into a private heaven from which they could survey the whole world. She saw rivers, forests, valleys, distant mountain ranges, snow tipped at their topmost peaks; she could see the town of Sweetheart Falls down there, looking tiny and almost insignificant amongst all the splendour. However, she knew there was nothing insignificant about the people who lived there. They were as much a part of the land she was looking at as anything else.

  Logan came up and stood beside her, but she kept her hands fixed to her hips. She knew he wanted to embrace her, but right now she wanted to savor the view; enjoy the sheer pleasure of what she was witnessing. For someone brought up in the confines of a ruthlessly constraining society, this place ennobled her soul, stirred something deep inside her. Seeing the landscape before her eyes reminded Martha of why she would never quit Sweetheart Falls.

  They both stood and took in the vista, saying nothing. Finally, Logan broke the silence. "I need to tell you a few things," he said quietly, in a flat tone of voice.

  Martha didn't want anything to spoil the day, but she knew she wasn't going to be able to stop him. He had a lot to explain and there were many questions in her own mind.

  "I understand Logan. I've been thinking and I realize there is a whole lot I don't know," she said to him.

  He went over to a large rock and sat down on it and she followed him over. She didn't sit down next to him, preferring to remain standing. Logan sighed, and stared off into the distance, apparently lost in thought. After a while, he spoke:

  "First off, I have to say this. I won't speak about what happened when I left you. About why I did it. Or the reasons why it turned out the way it did. I know I caused you pain. For that, I am truly sorry," he said softly, and with obvious sadness.

  Martha frowned and lowered her head. She wrapped her arms around herself. This was going to be a difficult conversation, but she supposed it had to be this way.

  "Those times seem like such a long way off. I don't want to dig up the old hurts," he said. Martha nodded in quiet agreement. Logan swallowed and continued. "I'll tell you about after I left the East. After I left you behind."

  Martha glanced over at him and saw he was having a hard time getting the words out. After a moment, he sat upright, and seemed to gain some resolve.

  "One day it was clear to me that you were not going to be mine, and I couldn't stand that thought. Not at all. It was unbearable to me. But there were others who had done us both wrong, and who stood in the way of any happiness we might dream of together."

  Martha recalled those bad days, and could agree with some of what he had said. However, she couldn't quite understand his cryptic reference to the interference of others in their courtship.

  "You were the greatest thing that had ever happened to me, and I was determined that you were going to be mine; no matter what it took. You have to understand that."

  Martha didn't move a muscle; she stood rooted to the spot, transfixed by his words, and the intensity of the way he was suddenly speaking. It was as if the words had been trapped inside him all these years, and now he was letting them burst out.

  "When it was clear to me that we were not going to be allowed to be together all I could think of was to get away."

  Martha looked at him, puzzled. "I thought you had gone to work in your father's bank."

  Logan shook his head sharply. "No. I didn't do that. And you know what? My father couldn't do anything about it. He probably never forgave me for walking out on him; for walking out on the family," Logan said slowly.

  "What do you mean?"

  "All you need to know is that I took the small amount of trust money that was legally mine, and I went to Colorado. I couldn't get away from them all fast enough. I needed to forget."

  "Forget what?" she asked, knowing what the answer would be.

  Logan ran his hand through his hair and looked up at her with pained eyes. "You, Martha. I had to forget you," he said, his voice cracking.

  Martha turned away, feeling a churning inside. "But why did you leave the East? Why didn't you come to me? We could have worked something out."

  Logan shook his head. "You know that both of our parents would have done everything in their power to stop that."

  "I don't understand. If you were free to come West, surely you were free to continue with me," she said, realizing she was being drawn into the conversation in a way that wasn't sure she liked.

  Logan shook his head again. "It wasn't that simple. Let's say there were other forces at work."

  Martha couldn't even guess what he could be referring to. Other forces? Who could they be?

  "Your father never liked me anyway, Logan," she stated emphatically.

  Logan's brow tightened. "That's true. He told me our families weren't of the same social class. "Not the right type", was his way of putting it."

  Martha felt the familiar sense of outrage rise up in her, but it wasn't Logan's fault that his father had been such an intolerant oaf; that his father had stood in the way of their courtship at almost every stage; that his father had ultimately put his foot down, and ended it all in a cruelly sudden fashion. At least that was how it seemed to Martha.

  Logan paused and gazed off into the distance. "Anyway, since I couldn't be with you, I decided I would come West and make a new start. Call it childish fantasy. I'd always harbored dreams of the West. I bet you didn't know that about me at the time. Did you?"

  Martha admitted as much with a wordless shake of the head.

  "I had the money to buy a small ranch, and I made the best I could of it. I discovered something inside me that I didn't expect to find. I learned that I preferred to be out here, in this land, with these people. I prefer the people out here. They're honest, hard working folk. You can rely on them. They've had the corruption of the East burned out of their system by the need to survive. The truth was, I hated everything about the East, and I couldn't wait to get myself established. I did well, and you can see the results."

  Martha had to admit that Logan had been a success, in more ways than one.

  "There's one question I have to ask you, Logan?"

  "I know what it is. But ask me anyway."

  "How in hell did you find me?" Martha asked firmly.

  Logan's mouth creased in amused understanding. His eyes flashed with a sudden pride at this one achievement; finding her.

  "One night I was awakened by a startling dream. It was about you. We were together again. Just like we are now. I remember waking up with a powerful sense of certainty. It wasn't just a dream. It could be done. I could contact you, find you, and explain my new life, and find a way to bring us back together. With money comes the ability to make things happen and find people."

  Martha thought of the size of the ranch, the employees, the cattle. She could only imagine how much money it took to buy a spread like that. Money did make things happen; sometimes for bad; but also sometimes for good.

  Logan continued: "I engaged an agency to make some inquiries, and discovered that your parents had died. I was shocked. It also meant that I didn't know where you were."

  The memory of her parents' death stabbed at Martha's mind.

  "My dear sweet parents," she gasp
ed, tears beginning to moisten her eyes. Logan looked sharply toward her, and saw her distress.

  "Four months ago, the agency I had employed informed me that they had found you and your sister living with an aunt and uncle. I was overjoyed. You have no idea what it meant to me to finally know that there was a chance for us. Especially now that any objections by..." Logan's voice trailed off as he looked suddenly away. He continued quickly before Martha could press him further about what he meant by "objections".

  "Immediately, I prepared to travel East, filled with hope that the years would have tempered the disappointment you felt, and that my explanation would convince you that there may be a future for us."

  "But you never came!" Martha ejaculated.

  "I never came because by the time I was ready to, you had left your aunt and uncle, in what appeared to be most singular circumstances."

  Martha recalled Ethan's arrival, and persuasion that she and Rachel should accompany him to Sweetheart Falls and be reunited with their sister Cassie. It was, as Logan described it, most singular.

  "Once again I had lost you. I was in Colorado, alone and bereft. I was certain I had lost you forever," he said, and she could see the sadness in his features as talked about it. "As far as I could tell you could have gone anywhere. Married anyone."

  "Our aunt would hardly allow us out of the house, let alone marry anyone," Martha said sarcastically. "One day I will tell you all about the terrible days we spent with our awful relatives."

  Logan nodded.

  "My agent contacted me soon after, and told me he had some information about where you and Rachel had moved to. Wyoming. I was overjoyed, once again. We were virtually neighbours!"

  Martha grinned at his description of the hundreds of miles of distance between them.

  "I had my foreman, Brook, come here a few weeks ago, and find out if you were here. Pretty soon, he discovered that the person to really ask was Hettie. I'll never forget the day he came back to Colorado, and told me the good news."

  Hettie had known all along. She was a true matchmaker; a schemer in the nicest possible sense.

  "But the ranch. You bought it up so quickly. How?" Martha asked.