A Healing Love For The Broken Cowboy (Historical Western Romance)

by Cassidy Hanton

  “There is nothing we can do,” she said, sounding miserable. “My father will never let Mark court me. He won’t even let Mark speak to me.”

  Isabelle gave her a mischievous smile and a wink. “We will have to figure out a way around that then.”

  Ruby laughed. “If you come up with a plan, please let me know. Mark and I have been trying to for as long as I’ve known him.”

  “As the old saying goes, where there is a will, there is a way,” Isabelle grinned.

  A frown tugged the corners of her mouth downward. “I appreciate your optimism but you don’t know my father.”

  “I guess we’ll see about that,” Isabelle replied and tipped her a wink.

  Isabelle put the dress on her brother’s credit line. She knew he would not begrudge her the dress. He wanted her to have the best of everything in the world but there were limits. Not that she would ever abuse the privilege by spending so much, she put him into debt.

  After Mrs. Withershaw had wrapped her package, exclaiming just how good her taste was and how that dress would look incredible on her, Isabelle and Ruby left the shop. They walked along the wooden sidewalk, talking and getting to know each other better. The more she talked to Ruby, the more Isabelle liked her.

  Isabelle felt Ruby stiffen beside her and looked over at her. Ruby’s eyes were filled with anxiety and her back was ramrod straight. She followed her new friend’s gaze and saw the reason she had tensed up so much − her father was approaching them.

  The older man stopped in front of them, a scowl on his face. His eyes slid up and down her body, appraising her. He took her in and then immediately dismissed her. He turned his gaze to his daughter, his frown deepening. Ruby’s gaze dropped to the ground beneath her feet and she seemed to tremble with fear.

  Elmer Alford’s presence was heavy. Dense. His presence was even more ominous than Ruby’s bodyguard. The girl was obviously intimidated by her own father and Isabelle’s heart went out to her. Nobody should have to live in fear of their own parents.

  “Ruby, it is time to go home now,” he said.

  “Good afternoon Mr. Alford,” Isabelle began. “I am −”

  “I know who you are girl, now be silent,” he hissed. “I was not addressing you.”

  “Father, with your permission, I would like to spend a little more time with Isabelle −”

  His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. “I said it is time to go home. Do not defy me, child.”

  “Actually, I was hoping Ruby could come for supper tonight,” Isabelle cut in.

  A look of pure contempt crossed his face as he regarded Isabelle coldly.

  “Absolutely not,” he growled. “Out of the question.”

  “But Father −”

  “Silence, child,” he practically shouted.

  People passing by on the sidewalk turned and glanced in their direction and Isabelle had to fight the urge to cringe. Most though, seeing that it was Elmer Alford doing the shouting, turned and hurried away. A few curious eyes though, lingered on the spectacle they were presenting.

  Isabelle was not comfortable being the center of attention in any capacity, let alone because she was caught in a screaming match in the middle of the street. It was uncivilized and uncouth. More than that, it was humiliating, to say the least.

  “I apologize Mr. Alford,” Isabelle butted in. “Have I done something to offend you?”

  The older man rounded on her, fury blazing bright in his eyes. His nostrils flared and his cheeks flushed with anger. He was obviously a man used to having his words obeyed without objection or conversation. She pitied Ruby now more than ever.

  “You? No, not personally,” he spat. “But your brother does nothing but offend me. Therefore, I have no interest in you or your family, and I refuse to let my daughter associate with the likes of you.”

  Isabelle was not the most assertive woman ever and she had been taught to always defer to her elders. But the way old man Alford had dismissed her initially and then had said something so ugly to her, with no cause to do so, infuriated her. And when Isabelle’s hackles were raised, she was not afraid to speak her mind.

  “What is it my brother has done you consider so objectionable that you think you can be this rude, Mr. Alford?” Isabelle hissed.

  She cut a glance at Ruby, whose gaze was still locked firmly to the ground. Color rose in the girl’s cheeks and her eyes shimmered with tears that threatened to spill down her pale skin. Isabelle turned her gaze back to Elmer, her eyes matching the intensity of his fury.

  “You people think you can come in here and take over,” he snarled. “I’ve spent my entire life in this town. It’s my blood, sweat, and tears that have Stephill growing the way it is. It owes its success to me.”

  Isabelle’s mouth fell open as she stared at him with wide eyes, pure disgust and contempt for the man standing before her twisting her features.

  “The way I see it, Mr. Alford, it’s because everybody who lives here has contributed,” she blurted out. “Everybody who has opened a business, helped to construct the buildings that house those businesses, everybody who works in those businesses − they all contribute to the health and success of this town.”

  “What a rousing speech. I’m moved, Ms. Logan,” he mocked her. “You’re a real woman of the people.”

  Isabelle seethed. “I believe it’s the people who make a town a great place to live. Not one person,” she barked. “This is not some English castle. You are not a king. Stephill is great because the people make it great.”

  Elmer rolled his eyes. “You truly should not be speaking on things you do not understand, girl.”

  “My name is Isabelle. Not girl,” she fired back. “And as near as I can tell, your real problem with my brother is the fact that he’s making something the people like. And that cuts into your own profits.”

  He waved her off. “As I said, you should not be speaking on things you do not understand,” he said casually. “All I can say for sure is Stephill was a much better place before your brother set foot in it, and if I had my way, you people would pack up your wagon and move back to whatever hovel you came from.”

  He glared at her, letting his words hover in the air between them for a moment, a cruel little smile twisting one corner of his mouth upward.

  “Come Ruby,” he said as he turned. “It’s time to go.”

  He walked off without looking back, as if he simply expected Ruby to follow his command without question. Isabelle supposed that it was not an unreasonable expectation given the fact that Ruby had been doing just that her entire life. It made her pity the girl even more.

  “I’m sorry Isabelle,” she whispered.

  Isabelle took hold of her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It is not your fault,” she said. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

  “I feel like I do.”

  Isabelle shook her head. “You do not,” she said. “But there will come a day when you need to stand up to him, Ruby. If you do not, he will control you for your entire life.”

  Tears welled in her eyes and her lips trembled as she fought them back. Isabelle wanted to lend her strength. Lend her courage. But she knew she could do neither. This was a fight Ruby would have to wage on her own.

  “Do not make me repeat myself Ruby,” Elmer called over his shoulder.

  A sharp squeal burst from her throat and a lone tear raced down her cheek.

  “Maybe you’re right,” she said, her voice quavering. “But today isn’t that day.”

  And with that, Ruby scampered off after her father and Isabelle watched her go, feeling more pity for her than she had ever felt for another person before in her life.

  There would come a day when Ruby would need to stand up to her father. If she did not find the strength and courage within herself to do so, if she continued to let him rule her life, obeying his every command, Ruby would live a sad and lonely life filled with torment and regret.

  And Isabelle did not want to see that happen
. More than anything, she wanted Ruby and her brother to live a long, happy and fulfilling life together.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Harvey awoke to the sound of somebody pounding on his front door. He quickly pulled some pants on under his nightshirt and rushed to the front room before whoever was out there beat down the door of the hinges.

  When he threw the door open, the angry outburst he had planned on delivering died in his throat. Isabelle stood on his porch, her eyes wide, her face etched with fear.

  “Isabelle, what is it? Are you all right?”

  She shook her head. “Something’s happened −”

  “Is Mark all right?”

  She nodded. “We’re both fine. He just needs you to come over to look at something.”

  Isabelle was obviously shaken by whatever it was that had happened. His first thought was that Mark’s distillery had been attacked again.

  “Come in, come in,” he muttered, trying to smooth down hair he knew was sticking up in a hundred different directions. “Have a seat. Let me just get cleaned up real quick.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  Harvey looked up to see Chenoa standing in the doorway, an expression of concern on her face.

  “That’s what we’re going to find out,” Harvey said. “Chenoa, can you make her a cup of tea while I get dressed?”

  “Of course,” she looked at Isabelle. “Come into the kitchen with me.”

  “Please hurry,” Isabelle pleaded.

  Harvey nodded and rushed off to his room to put on something proper. He stripped down and moved to the wash basin on the dresser. He splashed cold water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror.

  “Ugh,” he muttered to himself.

  Harvey knew there was a sense of urgency and that something obviously bad happened that had left Isabelle rattled. But the threat was not imminent which put his mind somewhat at ease. And although she was probably too shaken to even take account of his appearance, Harvey felt self-conscious about having just rolled out of bed.

  He opted to forgo shaving for now − he did not want to expend the time it would take. Instead, he ran the water through his hair, smoothing it all back. After drying his hands on the towel he dropped it on the dresser then put on a fresh shirt and quickly buttoned it.

  After that, he pulled on his trousers and slipped the suspenders up over his shoulders. He pulled on his boots then made his way out to the front room where he found Chenoa sitting with Charley bouncing in her lap and Isabelle nervously waiting for him.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  Isabelle followed him out of the house and down the path toward her house. The sun had already crested the horizon and the world around them was growing lighter by the moment. He could feel her tension and her fear radiating off her like heat from a fire. He held the gate between their properties open for her then followed her through.

  In the yard at the foot of the stairs that led to the porch, Harvey saw Mark standing there and some indistinguishable shape on the ground before him. As they drew closer, he realized that the shape was a cow. Or at least, what was left of a cow.

  Isabelle cast a glance at him. “It was here in the yard when we woke up this morning.”

  He came to a stop beside Mark and looked down at the mess on the ground before them. The cow had been killed and left there for them to find. Looking at it sent a cold chill slithering down Harvey’s spine.

  “Leave,” Harvey read the words. “Or die.”

  “Nice love letter to wake up to, huh?” Mark grumbled.

  Isabelle stood on the other side of the carcass, her lips trembling with fear but anger flashing in her eyes. Harvey pursed his lips and shook his head as he felt himself suddenly growing irrationally angry.

  “First the distillery and now this,” Isabelle said. “We can’t pretend this is a coincidence.”

  “I don’t think it is,” Mark said.

  “My last dollar says it’s not,” Harvey added.

  A few of Mark’s ranch hands arrived with a cart. After telling them they could butcher the carcass for meat if they pleased, they loaded it into the wagon. Harvey followed Mark and Isabelle into the house where they dropped down at the table in the great room. Isabelle disappeared into the kitchen and rattled around for a few minutes before coming back with a tray loaded with coffee.

  They all took a moment in silence to prepare their coffee as they collected their thoughts. Harvey sat back in his seat and looked over at Wolf, who lounged in front of the fireplace. The fire inside crackled and popped as it chased away the morning chill. He took a sip of his coffee then set his mug down.

  “I think we can safely rule out the Indians,” Harvey said. “Chenoa returned last night and said she had gotten it directly from the tribes that they had no part in this.”

  Isabelle let out a quiet sigh of relief, relieved to hear that Chenoa had returned safely. She had worried about her when Harvey told her she was leaving to go speak with the tribes a few days ago. Chenoa was the only Indian Isabelle knew but she had heard stories about how wild and brutal they could be and feared for her friend.

  “Well, I think we know who’s behind this,” Mark said.

  “But we still have no proof,” Harvey answered. “Which means we can’t go to Sheriff Waits.”

  “The butchered cow and the note written in its blood isn’t proof?” Isabelle asked.

  “Oh it’s proof that a cow got butchered,” Harvey said. “But there ain’t proof of who did it.”

  “And without that, the Sheriff won’t do anything.”

  “So what are we going to do?” Isabelle asked. “Just wait for whoever left that dead cow to come back and do the same to us?”

  Harvey took a long swallow of his coffee and looked over at his old friend. Mark’s face was dark with anger, his jaw clenching and unclenching. He knew his friend wanted nothing more than to track down Elmer Alford and beat a confession out of him. Or maybe he thought beating him would just make him feel better.

  Harvey knew he needed to do something to help his friend. Mark was a lit stick of dynamite at the moment, just waiting to go off. And if Harvey didn’t do something to take that pressure off, Mark was going to explode. That was about the last thing they needed right now.

  He took a deep breath to settle himself down. He was as angry as Mark but he needed to be the voice of reason in this chaos.

  “Tell you what,” Harvey said. “Why don’t we go talk to Sheriff Waits anyway? If nothin’ else, at least it’ll put him on notice that somethin’ is goin’ on that he needs to be aware of.”

  His eyes met Isabelle’s and he was hit with a wave of emotion from her. He felt her frustration and her fear. But he also felt something more from her. Something powerful that made his heart lurch.

  The air between them felt charged again, like it had right before they had kissed in her studio. And if was being honest with himself, he wanted nothing more than to pull her to him and kiss her again. The ghost of the memory of their kiss still lingered upon his lips and he had to suppress the smile that threatened to cross his face knowing both she and Mark would likely misinterpret it.

  Harvey knew his timing was poor. This was about the most inappropriate time to be thinking on romance but he could not stop it anymore than he could have stopped the sun from rising that morning.

  He had done a lot of thinking over the last few days. What he and Chenoa had talked about still echoed through his mind and it was starting to make some sense to him. He felt as if he were coming to some conclusions inside of himself. As if he was finally beginning to understand some things.

  Chenoa had been right. He knew Amy would not want him to spend the rest of his life in abject misery. He knew she would want him to be happy and to embrace joy rather than chase the darkness he had allowed himself to dwell in for so long.

  But he did not know any other way to be. Any other way to live. He had not known anything but the misery he had existed in for a very long
time. It was a darkness he did not know that he could find his way out of.

  As he looked into Isabelle’s eyes though, he saw a light that could guide him out of the darkness. She was the light that could dispel the shadows that clung to him like thick, sticky cobwebs.

  “I think we should go to Alford’s ranch, drag him outside, and make him admit what he did. And for who,” Mark muttered.

  “It would be satisfying,” Isabelle said. “But I think Harvey is right − even if the Sheriff refuses to do anything right now, at least if something else happens, he’ll know where to start looking.”

  “And by something else happening, you mean if we end up like that cow out there,” Mark grumbled.