Her nerves only rattled even worse when they left the town proper. With the buildings and the people disappearing behind her, the wide-open prairie stretched endlessly in front before finally coming to stop at the foot of some mountains in the distance. Her heart began to clamor inside her chest at the notion that no one on Earth knew where she was or who she was with. This man could do any number of terrible things, and there would be no one coming to her rescue.
At first, Lucy had tried to engage Matthew with questions in an effort to endear herself to him, but his responses were short and clipped. She soon gave up trying, knowing that his answer would prove unremarkable. He seemed just as content to stay silent—and to have her do likewise—so she did.
Perhaps he’s only nervous. That must be it. Lucy calmed herself with this thought, keeping it foremost in her mind so she wouldn’t succumb to the panicky feeling that was trying to take hold of her.
After more than an hour’s awkward ride, a small house came into view. Matthew steered the horse in the direction of the small structure while Lucy strained to see anything else nearby. There wasn’t another house, a barn, or so much as a sign of life anywhere.
They were completely alone.
Chapter Thirteen
“How is he feeling today?” Gertie asked quietly as she brought another tray of food—one that would most likely remain as untouched as the previous ones—to Matthew’s bedside, hoping that either he or his mother might eat something.
“I think he’s a little better,” Genevieve answered in a whisper so as not to wake her son. “He’s sitting up longer and longer and talks more, but it tires him out something awful to try to follow a conversation.”
“Well, at least he’s showing some signs of getting better,” Gertie acknowledged with a firm nod. “Do ya think we can change his bedclothes again today? I can have the men come lift the sheet corners so we don’t pain him any.”
“That would be nice, yes. I hate to say it, but this room has had a more pleasant scent in the past!” Genevieve laughed weakly, and Gertie patted her hand.
“Now Miz Miller, I’ve been treading lightly around you two ever since they done brought him up those stairs, but now it’s time for me to be tough on you. I want that whole tray eaten today, ya hear?” She pointed to the food and looked stern. “Now I mean what I say. Every bite. Between you and Mr. Matthew, it shouldn’t be that difficult. But neither one of you’s doing a bit of good wasting away up here. You both need your strength!”
“You’re right, as always, Gertie. I’ll do my best to see that he eats a good meal today… oh, and that I do as well!” Genevieve added hastily after seeing the look of warning on Gertie’s face. “We’ll be good, I promise!”
“See that you do,” Gertie answered, feigning insult. “You know I only whine like an old mare because I worry about the two of you. Some days, you’re the only people in the world I can count as my own. I just can’t stand the thought of something happening to you before my old bones are in the ground!”
“Hush that talk, don’t speak such a curse on yourself!” Genevieve answered sweetly. “None of us are departing anytime soon, mark my words!”
“That’s what I want to hear! Now you get some rest yourself, and I’ll send up some of the hands when I know Mr. Matthew is good and awake.” Gertie left the room, leaving Genevieve to fret a little longer.
“Ma?” Matthew asked, opening his eyes a little against the glare of the morning sun streaming in. “Is it still… what day is it?”
“No, it’s morning. You slept through the night, but no longer. You’re improving each day!” Genevieve said brightly. “How are you feeling today?”
“A might bit better, I think. If only I could get some strength in my bones,” Matthew complained.
“Doctor Kleinman says that will come back with time. You lost so much of your blood out there, it’s only natural that it takes time to come back from that. The more of Gertie’s good cooking you can get in you, the faster you’ll be on your feet.”
Genevieve watched Matthew as he reached for the familiar cup of beef broth, and she wondered once again if his body wasn’t the only part of him that was in pain.
“Son, is there something grieving you? Something you remember about your injury, perhaps?” she pressed, hoping he would finally put her mind at ease.
“I don’t… It’s just that…” he began, but he stopped. Genevieve waited, holding her breath. “I wrote to Miss Jones and invited her to Tuckerrise.”
“You did what?” Genevieve asked, her voice fraught with worry. “Did she send an answer?”
“I can’t know that now, can I? I haven’t looked at any letters. How long has it been that I’ve been laid up?”
“Nearly two weeks! Oh, I’ll hurry to see if anyone has brought the post back from town!” Genevieve all but ran from the room, but she returned a short while later looking crestfallen.
“There was nothing. But that doesn’t mean she rejected your invitation!” his mother insisted. “Perhaps she’s making arrangements before she can answer, or needs to send word to her family, or… or any number of things that have prevented her.”
Matthew was quiet, but eventually said, “I made the arrangements already. It was all in the letter I gave to you before I rode out that day.”
“You mean, she might have received a letter and accepted your invitation, only to board a coach for town? Matthew, this is gravely serious!” Tears pooled in the corners of Genevieve’s eyes. “What if she arrived here but you weren’t there to meet her?”
“I’ve thought of that very possibility myself—when I was able to even think clearly, that is—and it’s too awful to imagine.”
“I’ll ride into town myself,” his mother said finally. “I’ll inquire with the depot about any passengers they’ve brought recently. But first, let’s write to her again in case she has not already left for Utah. She may be sitting at her home and our worry may be for nothing. I’ll post the letter when I visit town.”
“No,” Matthew said firmly, and before Genevieve could set her mind to argue he was already sitting up and weakly struggling to put one foot out of the bed. “I’m going to look for her.”
* * *
Outside the small shack, the rider dismounted and held out his hand to help Lucy down. She clutched her bag more tightly to herself, then hesitantly took his hand in her own. She immediately noticed the rough callouses and abrasions hidden beneath a layer of grime and found it oddly comforting. It was the mark of a man who put in an honest day’s work, even if she’d been expecting someone a little less rough.
Using his arm to brace herself, Lucy slid down and instinctively took a step back, putting some distance between herself and this man. He was so different from the man she’d imagined, the caring and conversational person who seemed eager to invite her to his hometown.
Perhaps it’s only a case of nerves, and he’ll say something more now that we’re at his home. Lucy could hope, but in truth she had no reason to think otherwise.
“You can… you can go on in the house if you like,” he said without looking directly at her. Instead, Matthew took the horse’s reins and led it to a pen that shared a wall with the back of the ramshackle structure.
Lucy waited awkwardly, too timid to walk into another man’s house alone, but thought better of it. She didn’t want him to send her back, so she had to appear as though she were pleased to be here.
She walked up the three coarse wooden steps to the low porch, then pushed open the door. The cabin was dark inside, so she opened the shutters on the one window and let in some light. Her heart dropped at what she saw before her.
The one-room house had none of the comforts of a home, not even the school she’d left behind. A small cast-iron woodstove served as the only source of heat as there was no fireplace; she knew that it must serve as the only way to cook as well. One narrow bed made from a straw tick mattress atop some planks that rested on sawn tree stumps occupied the far w
all, a thin and threadbare quilt thrown across it in disarray. A table that leaned dangerously downhill and a single chair were the only other furniture in the room, and a row of pegs hammered into one wall held a spare change of clothes, a heavy coat for wintertime, and a thin cloth that must serve as a towel.
Above the door, two wooden pegs held a shotgun.
Absent were any sign of a pantry for food, a pie safe, a tub for washing. There was no larder for keeping fresh food—and no home garden outside, she realized—and no oil lamp to cast a pleasant glow over the room. There were no books, not even a Bible to turn to, nothing that showed anyone who lived here enjoyed any pastime other than brutally hard work.
“This is it,” Matthew said behind her in a flat voice, causing Lucy to jump. She moved aside quickly so as to not be trapped inside the house by someone she’d only just met. Inching along the wall, she made her way back to the door, still holding her sack of belongings in front of her.
“It’s lovely,” Lucy forced herself to say. “It looks like a very sturdy home. Did your uncle help you build it?”
“Sure. My uncle… oh Uncle John, you mean?” Matthew asked, and Lucy nodded. “Yep, he’s a real help around here sometimes. But he’s not here right now, or I’d introduce you. He’s gone all the way to Chicago to see about this year’s cattle sales ahead of the cattle drive, won’t be back for weeks.”
“And, if I may ask, where is your mother?” she said, hoping her tone sounded light rather than accusing.
“My mother?” Matthew asked, turning to look at her, pinning her back with a stare from his brown eyes.
“Yes, your mother. You said in your letters she lived with you as well,” Lucy said, growing a little more confident. She didn’t see any of the ranch hands Matthew had spoken of either, but she made no mention of it.
“Oh, that’s right. She has a room above the barn,” he said quickly, before adding, “But you mustn’t go up there. She doesn’t like company, and she can be… difficult… sometimes.”
“Oh really? That’s rather interesting, I thought that she… oh, never mind. Perhaps if I cooked something for her, maybe a cobbler, and brought it to introduce myself, she might—”
“Don’t go up there!” Matthew shouted sharply, causing Lucy to jump. “I mean, you can’t go in the barn. It’s not safe, so just… don’t.”
“I see. I thought I would be staying with her until we… that is, if we decide to get married.” Lucy felt more embarrassed than she had ever been in her life. This wasn’t turning out the way she’d envisioned at all, and she knew not what to do to mend it.
“Well, she lives around here. That’s the same thing,” he protested, as though his explanation proved everything. “Besides, she’s away at the moment caring for her sister. My aunt has come down with a terrible illness, and my mother had to leave very suddenly to tend to her. But never you mind, I’ll stay in the barn if it makes you feel better.”
If it makes me feel better? Lucy thought. Of course it would make me feel better!
“Yes, I would prefer it,” she answered quietly, but relying upon the kind of firmness she’d often used with the children. “It is not seemly for us to stay here together, and since I’m forbidden to go into the barn—for some reason—then I must insist we make other arrangements.”
Matthew only nodded, gestured around the cabin, then said, “Treat this as your own home. I will stay away,” before striding out the door and walking off.
For a few dragging minutes, Lucy was as quiet as the old shack when Matthew left. This wasn’t turning out to be anything like her imaginings, the fleeting moments when she’d left herself dream of being a doting wife to an attentive husband. Lucy suddenly felt foolish for imagining that this could have been her first real chance to belong to a family, to have someone to call her own.
Lucy wanted to fall to the bed and cry, but she couldn’t. This wasn’t her home. How could she make peace with it when nothing about this house was hers, or was even meant to be shared between two people? She sank down in the lone chair at the table, folded her arms in front of her, and lowered her head until she rested on the table’s rough surface. She couldn’t cast off the feeling that she’d been lied to, and she didn’t have the faintest idea of what she should do about it.
Strengthening her resolve, Lucy stood and approached the wood stove. There had been no fire in it for months from the looks of it. There were no charred bits of wood or coal, no thick dusting of soot or ash in the firebox. That was a very bad sign.
Turning in a slow circle, she realized there was no food stored anywhere in the house, and as she’d noted earlier, no garden outside to glean something for supper. She hadn’t seen any signs of hens outside to provide eggs, nor heard the low calls of any cows; she knew they must be somewhere on the property, though, as it was supposed to be a thriving cattle ranch. She thought back to the few pieces of cornbread she might have left in her sack, but otherwise, there was nothing.
Taking a terrible risk, Lucy knew she had to venture outdoors and see what there might be. She stepped off the porch and walked around the small house, but there was nothing but grass for miles in every direction. At the pen that now held the horse, she was almost envious of the feedbox that must be filled with oats, but where had those oats come from? There had to be a storehouse somewhere, and oats that were fitting for a horse to survive on were probably fit for a person as well.
Lucy hesitated when she put her hand on the door to the barn. The great doors that rolled back on their bearings were closed up tight, but the small entryway door was easily managed. Yet, she paused. Matthew had insisted that she never enter the barn. Why, she did not know, but she did know that he’d spoken very plainly about it.
Could she risk his anger at this time? What could he do to her if she disobeyed, and worse, would there be anyone to come to her aid if he proved himself to be dangerous? That thought was enough to almost make her head back to the cabin and nibble at week-old cornbread.
“No,” she said, chiding herself. “If you are to be his wife, you are permitted to see the property where you will live. A husband cannot keep an entire barn secret from his wife!”
She put her hand on the door handle again and pulled lightly, half hoping that it wouldn’t budge. Instead, it swung openly freely.
“Hello?” Lucy whispered into the darkness, daring not to venture inside yet. “Mr. Miller? Matthew?”
There was no answer, so Lucy took a deep breath and stepped inside. She closed the door quietly behind her and waited for her eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness, but even after several minutes she couldn’t be sure that her eyes weren’t deceiving her.
There was nothing inside the barn. It was completely empty, void of any tools or hay or animals. There wasn’t even a faint trace of a scent that spoke of past occupants, but instead it was as if no creature had ever stirred inside its walls. It was certainly without any other rooms as well, meaning there was no hermit of an old woman who lived here.
Lucy felt faint at once, and her heart began to race. She was trapped with a known liar, a man who was nothing like his letters had led her to believe. Worse was the knowledge that there was no one who could save her should she be in need of rescue.
A noise behind her startled her, and Lucy immediately jumped to the side of the doorway and pressed herself close against the wall. She scooted as far as she could towards the corner of the barn, hoping no one looked in any closer.
“I know yer in here, girl!” Matthew shouted. “I told you to stay out! Get on out here a-fore I make trouble for ya!”
Lucy trembled for a moment, undecided about what to do. It wasn’t as though she could hide forever, and where would she go if Matthew did decide that she wasn’t in there? Her best choice—make that her only choice—was to confront him.
She stepped out of the darkness and into the rectangle of light that hit the dirt floor through the open doorway, her shoulders back and her chin set proudly. She looked at Matthew
without flinching, waiting for him to say something.
“What are ya doin’ in here when I told ya to stay out?” he roared, although he made no move to come closer.
“I’ve been looking for food,” Lucy answered firmly. “I’ve realized there is none on this entire property you referred to as a ranch in your letters.”
Matthew didn’t answer, and for a second his expression almost gave away his guilt. Instead, his face turned to a sneer.
“I got food, I just keep it hidden away so anyone comin’ out this way to rob me don’t steal the only things I gots to eat. Now you’ll do well to listen to me from now on. When I say stay outta my barn, that’s what I mean!”
He pointed to the outside and waited, expecting Lucy to walk past. She was of half a mind that he might strike her when she moved closer, but she resolved not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her afraid.
A Love Defying The Odds (Historical Western Romance) Page 11
