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

by Cassidy Hanton

  She saw the glowing red tip of a man who was smoking a cigarette behind a stack of crates. Her eyes drifted over to where her brother was sheltering behind some crates in the back of a wagon that had been set at the head of the yard, just off the rutted path that led up to the main road.

  Movement in the copse of trees that led down from the road drew Isabelle’s attention. Her blood froze in her veins when she realized there were men carefully picking their way down the slope.

  The men moved through the shadows, staying in the darkness as well as they could. Her heart thundered in her chest and her stomach roiled as she watched them drawing closer to the yard. She licked her lips, which were suddenly dry and did her best to quell the churning inside of her.

  Isabelle raised her rifle and looked through the scope Harvey had mounted for her. She had not practiced with it a lot but felt fairly comfortable using it. Even though she would do what she had to do to protect her home, Isabelle hoped she would not have to use the weapon.

  “Please, please, let my aim be true,” she whispered her prayer − just in case.

  Isabelle watched the dozen or so men dressed in the buckskin favored by some Indian tribes picking their way through the trees, and stepping into the crosshairs of her scope. Her body tensed and she waited. Mark told her not to take a shot unless Elmer’s men fired first so she held her breath and watched.

  A dozen men, all dressed in buckskin oozed out of the shadows and crossed into the yard, moving quickly and quietly. Two carried a wooden crate between them and set it down. The group moved closer to the barn.

  Isabelle held her breath. They were standing just below the window where she was positioned quietly talking amongst themselves. She strained her ears, listening intently, but couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  It was then her brother and his men all lit the bonfires they had stacked at their positions. The yard was suddenly flooded with light and the shouts of confused men as Mark’s group revealed themselves, the barrels of their weapons gleaming dully in the flickering firelight.

  “Drop your weapons,” Mark shouted.

  “You’re all covered,” Harvey added. “Don’t be stupid. Drop your weapons.”

  The men below the window shouted in fear and confusion. She heard the sound of them scrambling below her and when she stuck her head out the window, she saw them stacking crates and whatever they could find to form a barricade to shelter behind. They were trapped between the wall of the barn and a lot of rifles in the yard before them.

  “Last chance,” Harvey’s rumbling voice echoed around the yard. “Drop your weapons, come out, and you won’t be harmed.”

  The sound of the first shot rang out, shattering the night air. What followed was a cacophony unlike anything Isabelle had ever heard before. Rifle shots split the darkness on both sides and blended with the sound of splintering wood and men shouting.

  Her heart beat so hard, Isabelle thought it might burst through her chest. And her trembling was so violent, she feared she would not be able to properly aim a rifle even if she wanted to.

  The gunfire increased in intensity and seemed to grow louder. She glanced out the window and looked at the men below her. They were sheltering behind their makeshift barricade, returning fire and it looked like, arguing with one another. Mark and Harvey obviously had the upper hand on them and they knew it.

  “Go get the box,” one of them shouted to another. “We can use it to clear a path out of here.”

  “I ain’t goin’ out there,” the other man declared.

  They continued arguing with each other about who was going out there to retrieve the box. Isabelle raised the rifle, looking at the box through the scope. And when she saw the one simple word printed on the side, she drew in a sharp breath. Dynamite.

  She was stunned, sickened that Elmer would use dynamite to try and force them out of Stephill − or just kill them outright. She could not let Elmer’s men get their hands on it. She knew what she had to do.

  Isabelle lined the box up in the crosshairs of the scope. But her hands were still trembling and it was too shaky to get off a clean shot. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing herself to be calm.

  “You can do this, Isabelle,” she told herself. “You can do this.”

  Taking aim once more, she held it like Harvey had taught her. She lined up the shot and amazingly, the scope remained steady. She slowly let out her breath and gently squeezed the trigger. And when the shot rang out, she felt the jolt of the recoil all the way up her arm.

  Out in the yard, the box exploded with a deafening roar. A giant fireball shot upward into the sky, making the yard light up as bright as if it was high noon. It was so bright, she threw her hand up to shield her eyes. A moment later, Isabelle felt a wave of heat from the explosion wash over her, leaving her totally stunned.

  When her eyes cleared, she gasped when she stared at the large hole in the middle of the yard. Smoke drifted upward as small fires burned within the crater. And all around her, everything had fallen silent.

  She poked her head out and saw the men below her standing and staring at the fireball. Mark, Harvey, and their men were doing the same. For a moment, it seemed as if the world around her and everybody in it was holding their breath.

  But she knew if she did not do something to seize on the moment, the two sides would start firing at each other again. The battle would rage and things would get even uglier as Elmer’s men grew more desperate. She did not want to see anybody killed anymore than her brother and Harvey did, so Isabelle did the only thing she could think of.

  She leaned the rifle against the wall and perched on the window sill. Pulling her pair of pistols out of the holsters on her hip, she leaned out and pointed the barrels of both guns at the men below her.

  “Hey,” she called out. “You down there.”

  Twelve faces looked up at her, eyes wide, a look of utter shock on their faces.

  “Drop your guns,” Isabelle ordered. “Drop them and put your hands up.”

  The men below her exchanged glances, uncertainty on all of their faces. She knew they were calculating whether or not they could get their weapons raised before Isabelle opened up on them. She knew she needed to show them they could not.

  She squeezed the trigger on the gun in her left hand. A burst of flame erupted from the barrel and a large chunk of wooden crate exploded outward. Isabelle had been aiming for the ground at their feet, not the crate − but she did not need to tell them that. Instead, she stared at them like she imagined Calamity Jane would have, giving the group of men the most menacing glare she could muster.

  “I said drop those weapons,” she called down to them. “Now.”

  The men did not hesitate a moment longer before they obeyed her command. She had the high ground and they had nowhere to go. Rifles and pistols immediately clattered to the ground and the men raised their hands. A moment later, Harvey, Mark, and their men swarmed in and put them all in shackles and chains.

  Isabelle climbed down the ladder and walked out to the yard just as Mark and Harvey were seating the bound men near the still-smoking crater. The faux-Indian men looked at the ground, shoulders slumped, looking dejected.

  When Mark saw Isabelle coming out of the barn, he rushed over to her. He scooped her up in his arms and squeezed her tight as he spun her around.

  “You did it,” he cried. “You won the battle for us.”

  Isabelle laughed and Mark set her down on her feet. He had the widest smile she had ever seen on his face and his eyes sparkled in the light of the bonfires.

  “I think it was more of a group effort,” she said.

  “That was brilliant, little sister,” Mark continued. “Thinking to blow the dynamite like that. Just brilliant.”

  “That was very quick thinking Isabelle,” Harvey added as he joined them. “You were amazing.”

  “She beat twelve men all on her own,” Mark said. “On her own!”

  Harvey was smiling as wid
e as Mark as he nodded. “That she did.”

  “That’s not true,” she said, her cheeks burning. “I played a part.”

  “I’d say it was the starring role,” Mark said.

  “Definitely the starring role,” Harvey confirmed.

  Isabelle looked away, blushing furiously under their praise. But she could not deny the fact that she was proud of herself. She did not think she won the battle on her own as Mark was claiming, but she had done her part in defending their home. And that made her feel good.

  With the rush of the battle wearing off, she drew in a deep, shuddering breath and let it out slowly. She was trembling again and there was a greasy, nauseous feeling roiling in her belly. Harvey pulled her to him and she let him hold her, comforted by the feeling of his large body enveloping hers.

  “Are you all right?” Harvey asked.

  Isabelle nodded but continued to cling to him. It felt so good to her. So natural and right. Her body seemed made for his, like he was the other half of her and they fit perfectly together. She did not want to let go. Did not want the moment to end.

  But it had to. There was still business to attend to. Feeling less queasy, she reluctantly let go of Harvey. She stood just behind Harvey and her brother as they turned toward their prisoners.

  Mark’s men stood over them, rifles at the ready and not a single scratch on any of them. Isabelle was relieved they had all come through the fight in one piece.

  Her brother loomed over the prisoners, his face shifting to one that was cold and angry. It was a side of her brother she rarely ever saw but in this case, it was probably justified.

  “So, which one of you are gonna tell Sheriff Waits that it was Elmer Alford who hired you to come out here and burn us out?” he asked.

  Nobody spoke and all of the men looked down at the ground. Mark’s face grew harder and he put two fresh rounds into his shotgun, snapping it back into place to emphasize his point.

  “Let me ask you again − which one of you is going to admit to Sheriff Waits that it was Elmer Alford who hired you do to this tonight?” Mark asked.

  “I’d answer the man if I was you,” Harvey said. “You’re on his land and he’s well within his rights to plug each and every one of you after what y’all pulled out here tonight. The law’s on his side”

  The rest of Mark’s men all chambered a round in their rifles to drive the point home.

  “I will,” all five men said in unison.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “Are you sure you’ve got him?” Isabelle asked.

  Mark waved them off. “Of course. You two go on a walk. Have a good time.”

  Harvey looked at Mark and Ruby sitting on the porch with Charley and smiled. Chenoa was gone for the day and Isabelle had asked him to walk with her.

  At first, he had been reluctant to leave his son but Isabelle had convinced him everything would be all right. He trusted Mark more than anybody in the world and knew his son was in good hands. So he had taken a deep breath and learned to let go − if only a little bit.

  He and Isabelle walked through the orchards and he breathed in the scent of the trees around him. Maybe he was imagining it but being out from under the shadow of Elmer Alford once and for all somehow made things smell a little bit better. Cleaner. More free perhaps.

  It had been a few weeks since the battle and life was beginning to return to normal. Elmer and his men were being held in the Stephill jail until his transfer to a penitentiary up near Laramie. A magistrate had found them guilty of a host of charges − attempted murder being the big ticket charge − and sentenced them to a good, long stay in prison. They would not see Elmer again in this lifetime.

  Over the past few weeks, he and Isabelle had grown even closer than before and Harvey found himself opening up to her in ways that surprised even him. But he was glad for it. Glad he was learning to be open to the idea of love once more.

  Not that it was not still without its setbacks. He still sometimes struggled with the idea that he was somehow being disloyal to Amy. But the more he talked about it with Isabelle − and Chenoa, of course − the more that feeling was beginning to fade. The more he was beginning to realize that Amy truly would have wanted him to be happy. Even if that meant being with somebody else.

  Amy would not have wanted him to live a sad life dwelling in the dark. In life, she had always pushed him toward the light and toward joy. She had always told him to embrace the days they had in this world because they did not know how many they had so it was up to them to make them count.

  He had also come to realize − with Isabelle’s help − that he was not setting a good example for Charley. He was teaching his son to embrace the darkness and keep all of his feelings bottled up inside. He was teaching Charley to take no joy in life and instead, to dwell in the darkness he had existed in for so long.

  For Harvey, that had been the ultimate wake up call. He had never considered what he was doing to his son by living the way he had. He wanted nothing but the best for Charley. Wanted him to live a good and happy life. He wanted Charley to love his life. And Harvey realized he needed to change himself and set the example he wanted his son to live by.

  It had been an intense few weeks of introspection and change. But Harvey welcomed it all.

  “So did Chenoa ever tell you who it is she is seeing?” Isabelle asked.

  Harvey chuckled. “She did,” he replied. “It’s Sheriff Waits.”

  “No!” Isabelle laughed. “Really?”

  He nodded. “I was floored when she told me.”

  “How did she − how did they − get together?”

  Harvey shook his head. “No idea. But she is pretty smitten with him,” he said. “Now that the cat’s out of the bag, she’s been talkin’ a bit more about it.”

  “Well good for her,” Isabelle said. “She deserves to have a good man in her life. She deserves to be happy.”

  “I agree. Chenoa is a good woman.”

  They lapsed into a companionable silence as they walked. Harvey felt his stomach churn as he thought about what it was he wanted to say to Isabelle − had wanted to say for a while now. He just had not been able to work up the nerve to say it.

  He knew he was not the most expressive or articulate man in the world, which made it hard for him to come up with the words. But to him, this time it was important for him to actually get it out. To say the words he had wanted to say for so long. But he was finding it difficult.

  Harvey reached down and took Isabelle’s hand. She squeezed his hand in return as they walked through the orchard. The sun shone dazzlingly in the sky overhead and the apple trees pressed close on either side. He had been so caught up in his head and trying to form the words he wanted to say, he had not realized that Isabelle had led him to her studio. She gave him a smile as she opened the door and stepped inside.

  Harvey followed her in and the first thing he saw on the easel in front of the window was the painting she had shown him before − the one of him, Charley, and Chenoa. It was finished now and Harvey stared at it in awe.

  “It’s − stunning, Isabelle,” he said. “It is absolutely perfect.”

  “This is my gift to you, Harvey,” she said.

  “Thank you, Isabelle. I − I don’t have the words.”

  She looked at him and smiled. The sun shone in through the big windows, casting her in a soft light, making her skin seem to glow with an inner light. To Harvey, she looked like an angel and in that moment, all of his thoughts and his feelings crystallized.

  He did not have a flowery speech or anything like that at the ready. He was not a poet, that was for sure. But what he did have were his feelings for Isabelle. And while maybe not exactly pretty, they were earnest and sincere.

  “I love you Isabelle,” he said. “I love you with everything in me.”

  Isabelle’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open. She stared at him for a long moment, saying nothing. Her eyes shimmered and he watched as a single tear slid down her cheek. He
cupped her face with his hand and wiped it away with his thumb. Harvey’s heart thundered hard in his chest and he had to work hard to quell the fluttering in his gut.

  But for better or worse, it was out there now. He had said it. And he stood before Isabelle, the woman he loved with an undeniable ferocity, waiting for her judgment. For good or ill, he would be content with the fact that he had finally gotten the words out.

  She laughed softly and playfully punched him in the arm. “Well it is certainly about time.”

  In her eyes, he saw the depth of the love he felt for her reflected back to him. His heart slowed and the warmth of excitement washed through him. Harvey smiled, relishing the sensation of all these emotions coursing through his veins.