His Forgotten Fiancée (Love Inspired Historical)

by Evelyn M. Hill

  He wanted to race down the road as fast as he could. But this was not a road from back east, flattened and smoothed by decades or centuries of passing feet and hooves and wheels. This was a narrow, twisted western road. Tree roots stuck up at odd intervals, liable to trip up the unwary. Mud sucked at his boots; it took an effort to lift them off the ground as he walked. No wonder most people traveled by river when they could.

  The road climbed up from the village, leveling out once it reached the bluff above the river. Here at least there was enough room for him to move at a faster pace without twisting an ankle. He began to run, a steady rhythm. His lungs soon began to complain. He kept going anyway.

  When he’d come up the Siskiyou Trail from California, he’d had nothing to show for the time he’d spent away from Liza except for the wedding rings he’d had made for them. His long slog up to Oregon from California had been uneventful until he arrived in Oregon City and had started asking people for Liza’s whereabouts. That’s when he’d run into Mr. Brown and the trouble had started.

  Even if Mr. Brown were truly no longer a threat, there was still the Baron to deal with. The Baron might not have been involved in the attack against him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. Liza was going to go up against the Baron, he knew it. She would need him by her side. Her pa kept saying that the Baron had a code of honor. Matthew had met captains of industry during his stay back East. They had possessed codes of honor, too. Those codes could get very flexible when the question of profit arose. He could not let Liza face the Baron without him.

  Again, as with his mother, as with Vince, he was rushing to save someone he cared for deeply. This time he opened his heart and prayed. Lord, I could not save them. I cannot save her, either, without Your help. Help me to be in time.

  He slipped on a slick patch and fell, landing on his hands and knees in a puddle. Muddy water splashed his face and jacket, stained his trousers. He was going to look like the veriest ragamuffin when he arrived. So long as I arrive before it is too late. That is all that matters.

  A strange kind of peace came over him, bringing with it a sureness and a clarity of purpose. All he had to do was the job laid down for him. The rest was in the Lord’s hands. He would do his best. Matthew wiped the rain away from his face and went back to running.

  * * *

  The road to the Baron’s house wound back and forth as it climbed to the top of the bluff. Addy picked her way daintily along, using both hands to lift her skirts above the mud. Her city shoes were not suited to the road with its deep ruts. Liza trudged along grimly. The wind blew her hair loose from her braid and into her face. It would be raining again soon. She brushed the hair out of her eyes and kept walking. Let it rain. She wasn’t going to let the weather or the condition of the road stop her from doing what she had to do.

  The Baron had insisted on building a house high on the bluff overlooking Oregon City. She remembered the men in town complaining about how hard it had been to build. They had hauled the lumber up the hill, wagon after wagon, the horses straining and the men swearing. The Baron hadn’t cared how the men had to sweat to get the job done. He told the builders the results he wanted, and then he expected them to achieve it. More than likely, this had been his approach to Mr. Brown’s deeds, as well. Perhaps he would not care if Mr. Brown had been setting fires and threatening people all over the place. All she knew was that she had to resolve this problem between Pa and the Baron before anyone else got hurt.

  When she knocked on the polished oak door and was invited in by the tall and imposing butler, Liza did spare a moment to wish that she’d had time to spruce herself up a bit before coming here. She was at a disadvantage before she’d even begun. Well, it couldn’t be helped.

  Addy looked around at the elegant vestibule, the parquet flooring and the crystal chandelier, then looked at Liza. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she whispered. Liza nodded. There was no going back now.

  The butler showed them down the hall toward the back of the house. The hallway was covered in a thick, plush carpet. Liza’s feet sank down into the unaccustomed luxury, and she could not hear her footsteps or Addy’s close behind her. She could, however, hear a raised voice coming through the imposing oak door at the end of the hall. The butler, expressionless and stiffly correct, opened the door and then stood aside to let them pass.

  Liza found herself in some kind of study. The walls were filled with bookcases that held more books than Liza had ever seen in her life, and the Baron sat at a desk on the far side of the room. Frank Dawson stood in front of him. He was leaning over, both hands on the desk. She suspected it had been his voice that she’d heard in the hall. Frank’s face was turned away from her, but what she could see of his cheek was flushed red, and his right hand was clenched. He glared down at the Baron.

  The Baron, as usual, showed no sign of emotion. His gaze flickered over Addy briefly, then he nodded at Liza. “Miss Fitzpatrick. Come to play a game of chess?”

  “I think there have been enough games,” Liza said. “I wanted to speak with you. I can wait until you’ve finished your discussion with the sheriff.”

  “I don’t think you want to wait that long,” Frank said grimly.

  “I do not think Miss Fitzpatrick need wait at all,” the Baron said. He leaned back in his chair and turned his attention to Liza. He did not even glance at Addy, who had remained by the door. “We were having a discussion of my employee’s behavior. I gather that you have been affected by his...shall we say, misdeeds?”

  “I’d have a stronger word for it,” Frank said.

  “I did not come here to talk about Mr. Brown,” Liza said. “I came to talk to you about the claim.”

  A gleam of interest sparked in the Baron’s eyes. He steepled his fingers together. “Indeed?”

  “I want you to leave me and mine alone,” she said. “The root of the problem between us is that you want the land so you can get access to the river for your lumber. I will not give up our claim so that you can build a road. But you can use the ridge to slide logs down to the creek, and you can use the creek to float the logs to the river and the sawmills in Portland. The creek’s course isn’t as direct as the road, but it still flows to the river.”

  Silence. All Liza could hear was the ticking of a clock on the mantelpiece. The Baron said nothing. Liza could not begin to guess what was going through his mind just then. All she knew was that she was done with this endless conflict with the Baron. She wanted things settled. Opening up the creek for transport would mean destroying her little clearing on the ridge; that refuge would be trampled, the trees cut down, as men swarmed the place building a ramp to the creek. But she was at peace with her decision. She would treasure the memories and not mourn the loss. Keeping the people she loved safe was her priority, and this was the only way to ensure that no future employee of the Baron would try to put pressure on them to sell.

  Finally the Baron spoke. “You have discussed this with your father?”

  She raised her chin. “I have his blessing. He will allow this if I ask him to. You know he will.”

  “Hmm.” One finger tapped against his desk. “And what would you expect from me in return?”

  “I’d expect you to pay for the use of the creek and the land leading to it. We’d draw up a contract, right and proper.” And it would at least give them a buffer for times when the harvest failed or extra expenses came up. “Also, I’d expect you to give this woman a job.” Liza indicated Addy, who looked as if she had half a mind to bolt out of the door. “And to make sure she does not get prosecuted for lying about being married to Matthew.”

  Frank turned his attention to Addy. “You willing to publicly retract your claims about Dean?”

  Addy clasped her hands together. “Yes.” Her voice came out so softly that it was almost a whisper. She took a breath and said, more loudly, “Yes, I will. And I will testify about the men who
attacked him when he arrived in Oregon City. I saw them hit him. I don’t know their names, but I can describe them. Mr. Brown said that they worked for him.”

  “I do not think there will be any need for making such details public,” the Baron said in a silky tone. More concerned with his own reputation being affected, no doubt.

  “I disagree,” Frank said.

  The Baron asked Liza, “You do not feel any need to seek retribution for anything that occurred in the past?”

  “Frank will make sure justice is done for what’s happened in the past. I am more concerned with what’s going to happen in my future. I want no more problems between your people and mine. And if Mr. Brown ever comes anywhere near me, my father or Matthew Dean ever again, there will be problems.”

  The Baron inclined his head slightly, like a king granting a boon. “That will not be a problem.”

  “Or this lady, either,” Liza added hastily.

  Frank said, “What precisely do you mean by it not being a problem? I told you that I mean to arrest the man. If you’re hiding him on your land, I’ll find him.”

  The door opened. The butler, still impassive, escorted Doc Graham into the study. His face was flushed red, either from the climb or from indignation, Liza couldn’t tell. He held himself erect and kept his gaze steady on the Baron as he came up to the desk. “I’ve come to complain about Mr. Brown.” Belatedly aware of Liza and Addy, he took off his hat and held it awkwardly in front of his belly, bowing slightly to both ladies before returning his attention to the Baron. “He’s as good as admitted setting fire to my wagon last month. I want him stopped.”

  The Baron showed the tiniest sign of irritation. A minute crease, barely noticeable, formed between his brows. His lips parted to say something, but he was interrupted by the door opening yet again. Even the imperturbable butler was starting to look a bit harassed by this point. Liza would have felt sorry for him, but she was distracted when Matthew walked into the room.

  “Mrs. Graham told me you’d be here.”

  Liza just stood and stared at him. He should be halfway to Salem by now, but here he was standing in front of her, looking down at her with that quirk to his mouth that had always lifted her heart. “You came back,” she whispered.

  “Always.” He held his hands out to her, just as he always used to, and when she put her hands out in return, he grasped them in a firm, certain grip. Her heart leaped. This was the old Matthew come back to her. And yet, she could still see the new Matthew in him, a man hardened by his time in the mines, tempered by life on the frontier. For a moment, she forgot all the troubles of the past few months and gave herself up to the luxury of being able to look up at him and savor the warmth of his smile. Then doubt struck her. Had he come back to settle this matter with Addy? Or was he back to stay?

  Matthew looked past her to the Baron, and his tone hardened. “Where are you hiding Mr. Brown?”

  “Mr. Brown,” said the Baron, in a clear, carrying voice, “is no longer your concern. Nor yours, either.” He looked at Frank. “By this time, the Lot Whitcomb will have reached Astoria, where Mr. Brown is going to board a ship that is bound for Chile. He will work on my interests there. He will not be returning.”

  Everyone stared at him. He continued, serenely, “Mr. Brown seems to have lost sight of the grand scheme that I have for this new territory. I will not stoop to such tactics as arson or murder to succeed in my plan for this territory to become great. I do not need to.”

  “If he does come back, I will stand up in court and say that I saw him run out of the barn he set on fire last night,” Matthew said grimly. He still had not let go of Liza’s hands. He nodded at Addy. “I’ve gotten my memory back, so I know that I never married you, either.”

  There were a thousand questions she wanted to ask Matthew. She contented herself with gripping his hands tightly. She would wait until they were alone.

  Frank said, with regret, “I cannot prove that he knew you were going to be in the barn when he set the fire. All I can prove against him is arson and the attack on Liza’s pa. That’s bad enough, though. I could charge him.”

  The Baron shook his head. “Let it go. There will be no more fires going forward. No one will suffer as a result of anything done by one of my employees, even if he was acting without my approval. I am going to be concentrating on politics going forward. I cannot afford to have a scandal blotting my reputation at this stage.”

  “You cannot ignore everything he’s done,” Liza protested.

  The Baron remained benign. “The only crime that can be proven is arson. I will undertake to provide compensation to the victims. All the victims. Your father will be compensated for the loss of income from the damaged grain. I will pay for the use of the land above your creek, and for the use of the creek itself. I will not try to take the land from you, and I will make it clear that no one who works for me is to threaten you ever again. My word on that.” He held out his hand to Liza.

  She slipped her right hand out of Matthew’s grip and reached out and shook his hand, firmly, once. Matthew kept firm hold on her other hand, and she was glad of it. She needed his support right now. It felt wrong for Mr. Brown to have escaped the consequences of all his deeds. But really, he was going to pay. His loyalty to the Baron had been overwhelming to him; it had been the center of his existence. And he was being sent into exile. He was going to lose everything that mattered to him. It would have been more satisfying if he had been facing jail time, but it was not an escape.

  “And Addy?” Liza asked. “What about her?”

  “The legislature is planning to move the capital to Salem next year. There will be opportunities for women to do respectable work. I will help her find a job.”

  Liza turned her head to look at Addy. She met Liza’s gaze, then the Baron’s. She nodded. Liza was satisfied.

  Frank leaned forward over the desk. He was saying something to the Baron about recompense for all the time he had spent trying to track down Mr. Brown’s misdeeds. Liza wasn’t paying attention by that point. She looked to Matthew, who was still holding her hand tightly, as if he never planned to let go of her again.

  “I’ve seen your father,” Doc Graham said to her. “He’s breathing much easier now. I think you can take him home with you.”

  “Thank the Lord for that,” Liza said fervently.

  “We’re done here, I think,” Matthew told Liza softly. He tilted his head toward the Baron where he stood talking with Frank and Addy. “They’ll be arguing this one out for a while. I suspect Dawson would prefer to see the lady home himself. And you and I need to talk.” He opened the door and gestured for her to precede him. “Shall we?”

  Doc Graham took the opportunity to escape the Baron’s study with them. He followed them back to his house, chatting along the way. Liza was grateful for his help, but she wished she could have spent that time alone with Matthew. She needed to know why he had come back to her. But that had to wait until they had privacy.

  “It doesn’t feel right, Mr. Brown going off and not facing justice.” Matthew frowned. “He’s just going to walk off, scot-free?”

  “It’s not an escape,” Liza said. “He’s beaten. He lost everything that mattered most to him—the Baron’s regard, his place by his side. He’s nobody now, and I believe he hates that more than anything.”

  “I suppose,” Matthew said. He still did not look satisfied, but his thumb caressed her hand. She could tell that he, too, had things he wanted to say that were best said in private.

  Pa was sitting up when they arrived at Doc Graham’s, and he insisted that he was well enough to go back to the claim. He even took his usual place up on the bench, though he did allow Matthew to drive. The sun had come out from behind the sunset clouds as the wagon jolted its way back toward the claim. Raindrops clung to leaves and branches, sparkling like jewels. The warm afternoon helped dry the muddy roads, but
even so it was a slow journey. The sun was sinking behind the western hills before they pulled up in front of the barn.

  Liza helped Pa out of the wagon, and he sighed. “I think that was enough sitting up for a bit. Help me back to the cabin, Lizzy.” Matthew went to unharness the horse and give it a rubdown, and Liza put her arm around her father’s waist and helped support him until he got inside. When she tried to help him get settled in his bedroom, however, he shooed her out. “You go talk to that man of yours. It’s time you and he got things settled between you.”

  “It’s past time,” Liza said. She gave her father a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  She could not see Matthew anywhere outside, though the horse was in the paddock now, grazing contentedly. On a hunch, she peered in the barn. Matthew was coiling up the harness. He looked around at her. “I was trying to see if I could find what happened to the kitten. He doesn’t seem to be anywhere around.”

  “He was all right after the fire,” Liza said. “A little shaken up, but not hurt.”

  “Yes.” Matthew hung the harness up on its hook. He was frowning again. Not the old scowl that he had worn constantly when he first arrived on the claim. This was an absentminded expression, as if his thoughts were on something else. He cleared his throat. “It’s still light enough for a little walk. Will you join me?” She nodded, suddenly feeling shy.

  They walked side by side through the fields down to the creek. The fields looked different now: shorn of grain, they would rest until spring planting, when the whole cycle would begin once more.

  It was the golden hour again. The setting sun reached out to gild the stubbled fields and edge the trees with a warm glow. The air held that quality of stillness that comes in that moment that marks the crossing from day into evening.