A Healing Love for the Broken Cowboy: A Historical Western Romance Book

by Cassidy Hanton

  But as she watched them talking, something her brother had told her sent a bolt of fear shooting through Isabelle. She looked around, half-afraid she was going to see that terrible man, Elmer − Ruby’s father − and the two big goons she’d seen him with in town walk up.

  She remembered what her brother had said about their relationship and his disapproval of him seeing his daughter. She remembered how quickly they had scattered outside the dress shop in town and the tightness in her brother’s face. She was suddenly afraid for him.

  Pastor Rawlins took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. When she looked up at him, he gave her a warm, grandfatherly smile and patted her hand. She saw a knowing light in his eyes as if he could read her thoughts.

  “Don’t worry child. Elmer does not attend church,” he said. “Though it might do him so good.”

  Isabelle let out a breath and relaxed visibly. She watched her brother with Ruby and could readily see the affection between them. While he stood with Ruby, she could see Mark’s eyes sparkle as brightly as his smile. He looked more like the happy, mischievous boy who’d left Grimepass than the more jaded man she’d found in Stephill. With Ruby, that dark cloud that hovered over her brother seemed to lift.

  “So how are you finding our quaint little town?” Pastor Rawlins asked.

  “It is everything I hoped it would be,” she replied. “And much more.”

  Rawlins nodded. “It is growing by leaps and bounds. Once we achieve statehood, why − the sky is truly the limit.”

  Isabelle smiled. “I believe if handled correctly, Stephill can be at the cutting edge of culture − art, fashion, music − as the other big cities.”

  “God willing,” Rawlins laughed softly. “Your brother said you were an ambitious woman.”

  Isabelle smiled. “I admit that I am sometimes excitable,” she said. “I just see limitless potential here.”

  “Indeed there is,” Rawlins offered. “I just hope that God is not lost in this shuffle of progress.”

  “I am sure He won’t be, Pastor Rawlins,” she replied. “We have Him to thank for any progress.”

  Rawlins gave her a smile. “I can only hope the flood of new residents we will undoubtedly receive once we are granted statehood feel the same.”

  The flow of people slowed to a trickle and Rawlins gave Isabelle a nod, motioning her forward toward the church.

  “Shall we?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She let the older man lead her into the church where she found a seat next to Mark. She was surprised to see Harvey sitting on the other side of her brother − she had not seen him enter the church. Isabelle was not sure why, but she did not take him as a churchgoer. It made her glad to see that he was though, and it brought a small smile to her lips.

  The inside of the church, like the exterior, was simple. There were rows of long benches set on either side of the church, separated by a path down the center. At the front was a small dais with a lectern set in the middle. A large wooden cross hung on the back wall and was draped with colorful tapestries. The wood was all dark, well polished, and in good repair. Pastor Rawlins took good care of his church, and judging by the way the people responded to him, his care of his congregation was equally good.

  She took her seat and her brother gave her a smile.

  “Why are you not sitting with Ruby?” Isabelle whispered her question.

  “I wouldn’t want it getting back to her father,” he whispered in return. “I don’t want to cause any problems for Ruby.”

  Isabelle nodded, understanding his predicament. She did not know Ruby’s father, but all around, she had heard whispers about him. He had a particularly nasty reputation and people in Stephill seemed to fear him. It made Isabelle worried about her brother’s safety.

  “Have you tried talking to her father?” Isabelle asked. “Sure, he wants his daughter to be happy. If you spoke reason with −”

  “There is no speaking reason with that man. Believe me, I’ve tried to be reasonable with him for years,” Harvey cut in. “Elmer Alford wants what he wants, when he wants it. And right now, what he wants is to make your brother as miserable as he can.”

  Isabelle cut a glance at Mark who merely shrugged his agreement with Harvey.

  “He doesn’t really care who he hurts to get his way,” Harvey went on. “Not even his own daughter.”

  “That is truly awful,” Isabelle replied.

  “That about sums up who Elmer Alford is pretty well,” Mark said.

  Pastor Rawlins stepped to the lectern on the dais and began to address the congregation. After a few announcements, he began his sermon. Isabelle listened intently, enjoying Rawlins’s style of preaching quite a lot. She had enjoyed speaking with him outside earlier and felt very comfortable at this church already.

  It was the one thing she’d worried about coming to Stephill. She’d gone to the same church in Grimepass her whole life and had been very comfortable with her old pastor. She worried that she would not have the same rapport with a new pastor in a new church. But those fears were easing with every word of the man’s sermon. His style and delivery, not to mention his message, resonated with her.

  About an hour later, Pastor Rawlins brought his sermon to a close. As the parishioners filed out, they dropped money into the baskets of the two young girls posted on either side of the doors. Isabelle dropped a couple of dollars into the basket as she stepped into the cool morning sunshine and breathed deeply, a small smile on her face.

  Isabelle stood at the top of the steps for a moment and took in the view. Off to her left were the large buildings − both established and under construction − that marked the growing city of Stephill.

  But in front of her, in the distance were the snow-capped peaks of a mountain range she did not know the name of. The azure blue of the sky was littered with fat, fluffy clouds that drifted lazily by. To her, it was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

  Mark and Harvey emerged from the church and she followed them down the stairs, stepping to the side of the walkway. Mark excused himself and caught up with Ruby, wanting to steal a few more moments with her before she had to return to her father. That left her standing alone with Harvey and she felt her insides churning.

  Harvey slipped his hands into his trousers, shifting on his feet uncomfortably and cleared his throat. He seemed to be feeling as awkward as she was and that heartened her a bit.

  Isabelle gnawed on her bottom lip. “I did not take you as a church going man.”

  “I believe there is much about me you do not know,” he replied, his voice gruff.

  Isabelle looked down at the ground, feeling the heat rise in her face. She had not meant to intrude or be invasive and he seemed offended by a remark she had meant to be light. To Isabelle, he looked at her like he regretted his words. Or at least, how he’d said them to her.

  “I didn’t mean to sound cross with you,” he told her. “It’s sometimes difficult for me to be − social. It’s been a while.”

  “That is a shame, Mr. Willerson −”

  “Harvey,” he corrected her.

  A small smile touched her lips. “Harvey,” she said. “It is a shame all the same.”

  He shrugged. “Afraid I’ve got too much to do at home to worry about bein’ too social.”

  “It sounds to me like you just need some practice.”

  He laughed softly. “I suppose so.”

  “Well, since that is the case, you are coming to supper with us tonight,” she said firmly.

  “Appreciate the offer −”

  “I will not take no for an answer, Harvey,” she said. “I am quite good at teaching people to be sociable.”

  A smile crossed his face. “Is that so?”

  Isabelle nodded. “It is a fact,” she told him. “So, plan on having supper with us tonight.”

  Harvey readjusted his hat on his head, letting out a low, rumbling chuckle.

  “Well, I suppose there’s no gettin’ out
of it then, is there?”

  “None,” she said.

  “All right, then I appreciate the invitation,” he told her. “And I guess I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Good answer,” she smiled.

  Harvey flashed her another grin as he tipped his cap to her and walked away. A moment later, Mark rejoined her, the smile on his face wide but sad. She could tell it pained him to have to leave Ruby, and Isabelle felt terrible for him.

  “I wish you could spend more time with her,” Isabelle offered.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  A long moment of silence passed between them and Isabelle watched her brother watching Ruby disappear into the crowd as she moved down the street. Isabelle wished things could be different for her brother and the woman he loved. Perhaps one day they would be.

  “We need to stop by the general store,” Isabelle said. “We are having company for supper.”

  A grin pulled the corners of his mouth upward. “Oh, are we?”

  She nodded. “We are,” she replied. “I would like to bake a pie.”

  “A pie?”

  Isabelle nodded, a wide smile on her face. “Of course. You cannot have a proper supper without a pie.”

  Mark laughed. “Fair enough,” he said. “Then let’s head over to Wilson’s and get what we need.”

  “Great,” she beamed. “Lead the way.”

  Isabelle followed her brother as they walked the short distance from the church into town. She looked around with wide eyes, still every bit as charmed by it today as the first day she saw it. The street was crowded with people, some moving quickly, perhaps on business of some sort, and others taking a more leisurely Sunday stroll.

  The bells over the door tinkled as Mark led her into Wilson’s General. Isabelle stepped inside and inhaled deeply, savoring the rich aroma of spices and sweets that filled the air in the shop. Isabelle looked over at Mark and smiled. This was not the rustic outpost she was used to back in Grimepass where she could get little more than basics. She could tell that Wilson’s General had a wide variety of quality and exotic items.

  “Ah, Mr. Logan. Nice to see you, sir.”

  Isabelle turned to see a man with slicked back dark hair and darker eyes hidden behind round spectacles approach her brother with his hand out. The man had a thick, bushy mustache that practically hid his mouth and an ample midsection. His smile was wide, his cheeks rosy, and Isabelle thought he had an air of friendliness about him that she liked immediately.

  “Mr. Wilson,” Mark said. “Good to see you as well. Let me introduce you to my sister, Isabelle.”

  Wilson stopped in front of his brother and shook his hand before turning and favoring Isabelle with that wide, friendly smile.

  “Well, I see who got the looks in your family,” Wilson said with a deep, booming laugh.

  Mark turned to Isabelle, laughing along with the big, older man and shrugged.

  “What can I say, he’s not wrong?” Mark said.

  Wilson clapped Mark on the shoulder good-naturedly. “I’d like to talk a little business with you, if you have a few minutes.”

  “Go on and get what you need, Izzy,” he said. “I need to speak with Mr. Wilson.”

  Isabelle nodded and walked around the shop. The entire left side of the large building was devoted to tools and other things the ranchers would require to keep the ranches up and running. She went to the right of the shop, which was dedicated to the items required to running a household. It was here that Isabelle found items that had been imported from overseas − exotic spices and ingredients that thrilled her to see. She planned on expanding her cooking abilities so she could learn to treat Harvey and her brother to some international cuisine.

  For now, though, Isabelle decided to go with more traditional fare and so gathered the ingredients for a couple of dishes that were tried and true − and of course, what she needed to make one of her famous pies. She knew it had been more than a year since Mark had one of her pies, so it seemed like a good opportunity to indulge him with it.

  “Isabelle?” a voice called to her.

  She turned at the sound of her name and found herself standing face to face with Silas Pearson − the man who had kept her company on the train from Grimepass.

  “Mr. Pearson, how wonderful to see you,” she beamed.

  He held a finger up. “It’s Silas,” he laughed. “You say Mr. Pearson and I’m looking around for my father.”

  Isabelle laughed. “Silas,” she acquiesced. “It’s wonderful to see you.”

  “And it’s wonderful to see you as well,” he said. “How are you settling into Stephill?”

  “I love it,” she replied. “I am so happy to be here.”

  “That is excellent to hear,” he said. “Stephill is better for having you here.”

  Isabelle’s cheeks colored as they warmed and she looked away.

  “You are too kind,” she murmured.

  “I am only honest,” he replied.

  “So, what brings you here?” she asked, desperate to change the subject.

  He held up a small basket with a few items he’d collected from the shelves.

  “Just doing a little shopping,” he said. “Same as you.”

  “Oh. Right,” Isabelle flushed, feeling foolish.

  “Listen, it seems to be my good fortune to run into you today,” he started. “Can I interest you in having supper with me tonight? Mr. Pritchard’s restaurant serves some of the finest meals in all of Stephill.”

  “Oh, that’s very kind, Silas,” she said. “But I am afraid I already have plans this evening.”

  “Oh,” he said, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice. “You have plans?”

  She nodded. “I am making supper for my brother and his neighbor, Mr. Willerson, tonight, yes,” she replied. “I’m sorry, Silas.”

  “I see,” he said, looking crestfallen. “Perhaps another time then.”

  “Absolutely,” she said. “And you know, you’re welcome out to the ranch anytime. I mean − I know you wanted to speak to my brother about his business.”

  “Right,” he said, his voice thick. “Business. I − uhhh − I’ll do that soon.”

  “Great,” Isabelle chirped. “Then I will see you again soon.”

  Seeing the look of disappointment in his face made Isabelle feel terrible. Without another word, Silas turned around and walked away, grabbing a few more things off the shelves as he finished his shopping. Isabelle watched him walk to the counter on the other side of the store to pay as Mark strolled over to her, his smile wide and smug.

  “And what has you looking like the cat that ate the canary?”

  “Mr. Wilson just doubled his order of my cider and wine,” he grinned. “That means that I am officially doing more business here than Elmer Alford. At least here in Wilson’s General.”

  “Congratulations, brother,” she smiled. “That is terrific news. You are on your way to even bigger and better things.”

  “We are, Izzy,” he corrected her, his voice earnest. “We are on our way to bigger and better things. We’re a family and we stick together.”

  Isabelle smiled wide as she threw her arms around her brother, squeezing him tight as her heart swelled with emotion. This really was everything she wanted and more, and she did not think there was any way for her to be happier than she was in that moment.

  The bells chimed and she saw Silas casting a long look at her as he left the store. She could see the hurt in his eyes and felt bad. She did not like causing other people pain.

  “W - we should go,” Isabelle said. “I have a lot of cooking to do.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Your nice coat,” Chenoa said, a knowing grin on her face. “Seems like you’re taking this seriously.”

  “It’s just dinner with Mark,” he replied. “Same as I’ve done a million times.”

  Harvey cleared his throat and would not meet her eyes. He stared at himself in the standing mirror and decided he did not like the c
oat after all. He took it off and hung it back in his closet. Behind him, he heard Chenoa laughing softly to herself. He pulled his lambskin coat off a rack and shrugged into it. It was more casual and looked better on him, Harvey thought.

  “You are walking all of, what, a hundred yards to Mark’s door?” she noted wryly. “Seen you make that trek a thousand times without a coat. But yeah, this is the same as all the other times, right?”

  Harvey was not a man easily embarrassed but he felt his cheeks growing warm. No, this was not like the million other times he had been to dinner at Mark’s. Even he had to admit that to himself. But not for the reasons Chenoa might have thought. He turned and gave her a smile.