Fire and Ice

by Leah Atwood

  “If you want my help, it will. The other children look up to us, and we need to be good examples.”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” A groan followed the words.

  “Yes. Secondly, after this final excursion, there will be no more. It is reprehensible what you are doing, but I have no power to stop it this time. All women deserve fidelity and you will honor Maeve, during your engagement and marriage thereafter.”

  Patrick ran his tongue over his bottom lip before answering. He heaved a deep sigh. “Okay.”

  “Thirdly, you will start carrying your weight around here. Ma has enough on her hands, raising the young ones. Liza is coming of age and does a lot, but she’s a girl. She shouldn’t be helping with the cattle, especially when you should be the one doing it.”

  “Not even here and she’s more trouble than she’s probably worth,” Patrick grumbled under his breath. “Any more conditions, brother?”

  “Finally, you will marry Maeve by the end of the year.”

  An ornery gleam filled Patrick’s eyes. “A lot can happen in six months.”

  “Yes, it can.” From what he understood, most couples who arranged marriages of this fashion married immediately or within several weeks’ time. This situation was different. His brother had entered into an obligation he wasn’t prepared to fulfill. He hoped that by Christmastime, Patrick would mend his ways and fall in love with the bride for which he’d sent.

  Either way, the Holden family was about to change. He prayed that it would be for the better, but when a horse in a nearby stall gave a sad neigh, Sam couldn’t help but wonder if that was a sign of things to come.

  Chapter 3

  Glancing out the window, Maeve didn't see any men who matched the description Patrick had given of himself. She had watched the other two departing passengers alight from the train before she took her turn. A few steps taken, and she paused to look around again. Still no one. Two more steps down and she was on the platform.

  She plastered a smile onto her face, trying her best to ignore the swirling concerns in her stomach. A small gathering of people by the train depot had dispersed, and only the family of the other passengers remained. Now she was confident that Patrick was not there. Instinct rarely proved her wrong, and right now, it was telling her something wasn’t right.

  There was a multitude of potential reasons which could explain why her future husband wasn’t there. Maybe he had wagon trouble and was delayed. Or perhaps, he’d been so busy gathering wildflowers for her that he’d lost track of time and would be arriving shortly. That pesky instinct told her neither was true, but she kept her chin up. Pa never let situations get him down, no matter how bad. And truly, she didn’t even know if there was a bad situation. All she knew was that Patrick wasn’t present to greet her.

  There was no need to worry yet.

  The passengers’ trunks were unloaded from the baggage car and placed on the platform. She watched as all luggage except hers was claimed. Worn, but still sturdy, her trunk sat on the wooden planks, all alone. Maeve bit her lower lip, contemplating her next action. She could walk around Weatherton, ask if anyone had seen Patrick. Or should she stay put, so he wouldn’t miss her once he came and think she’d not come?

  She decided to remain at the train station, but first she had to move her trunk out of the way. Looking around, she saw a bench, which would make a perfect spot to wait for Patrick, if only she could move her trunk. With a hand on her hip, she observed it. Even sitting there, it appeared heavy. It had taken Pa and Shane working together to maneuver it down the steps of the apartment building in which they lived. How was she going to move it by herself?

  Squaring her shoulders in a determined fashion, she marched the few paces to where it rested. She took a deep breath, bent over, and gripped the handles located on each side. When she straightened her knees and stood, the trunk didn’t budge. She exhaled the breath she’d been holding and positioned herself to try again. No luck, it wouldn’t move. Clearly, that plan was not working.

  Why were there no men around? The town was rather deserted, she noticed, but she didn’t have time to dwell on that. She thought quickly. If she couldn’t move it all at once, maybe she could move it little by little by swinging it a few inches at a time. Instead of grabbing both handles, she latched each of her hands onto the same handle. She tugged.

  Success!

  The box had moved, but only by several inches before she had to set the raised end down. She continued inching it toward the bench, stopping after every other move to catch her breath. Perspiration beaded on her forehead, from the physical exertion and the heat.

  “Summer must be even hotter here than in Chicago,” she muttered under her breath while swiping at the moisture.

  “Today is hotter than normal.”

  The voice sounded from nowhere, jarring Maeve from her thoughts. She promptly straightened, wondering how much the person to whom the voice belonged had seen. Before she could spin around, a young man appeared in front of her.

  “Might you be Miss Benetton?”

  “Why, yes, but how would you know my name? Do you know a Patrick Holden? He was to meet me here today, but I’m afraid he must have been delayed.” This man couldn’t possibly be her fiancé. Nothing of him matched the description she’d been given, save the correct gender.

  “My apologies, ma’am. Allow me to introduce myself. Samuel Holden, Patrick’s brother.” His hazel eyes were kind, but held a hint of something dark.

  Her eyes widened with rapid concern. “Is Patrick okay?”

  “My brother is fine, but was called out of town unexpectedly. He asked me to meet you in his stead.”

  “I suppose being such a successful rancher does require some time away.” Flustered at the unexpected change, she wasn’t sure what else to say.

  Samuel blinked, then coughed. A strange look passed over his features. “My mother is expecting you. You will be sharing a room with my eldest sister until the wedding if that arrangement is suitable to you.”

  “My sister and I have always shared a room, so I will feel more at home that way.” Patrick was so kind to allow his family to live at his house. It was one of the many things she admired about him because family meant everything. “When will your brother be returning?” She hoped it wouldn’t be long. Eagerness to meet Patrick was making her antsy.

  “I’m not certain, but it shouldn’t be more than a day or two. May I offer my assistance?” He extended a hand, gesturing toward the trunk.

  “Yes, sir, help would be much appreciated.”

  “Is this your only baggage?”

  “Yes, Mr. Holden.” The formal reference sounded much too stiff to call her future brother-in-law. Would it be too inappropriate to ask that he call her by her given name? She would wait and ask Patrick. For now, “Mr. Holden” or “sir” would have to do, but she’d think of him as Sam.

  “I’ll carry it over to my wagon, which is at the livery. It’s not a long walk if you would like to follow me. I’m sorry for being late, but I was tied up in the blacksmith’s shop, waiting for some new horseshoes.” Sam effortlessly hoisted the trunk and took off walking.

  Maeve had difficulty keeping up with his long strides. She walked briskly to maintain his pace. Thank goodness she’d walked most everywhere she needed to go in Chicago and was accustomed to exercise. Even so, she found herself short of breath by the time they reached the wagon. Did he always move at such a hurried speed?

  “Stay put, and I’ll help you up in a minute.” Sam had set the trunk down behind the wagon and was currently standing in the wagon, rearranging some sacks. After several moments, he hopped back out and placed the trunk in a cleared spot. When he came around to help her, he still didn’t show a single sign of exertion.

  “Thank you for coming to greet me when your brother wasn’t able.” She accepted his hand for support then climbed into the wagon.

  He gave a gruff reply and nodded before walking around to his side. One of the two ho
rses snorted when Sam climbed up.

  “Do they have names?” she asked.

  “Pardon me?” A confused look marked his face.

  Maeve inclined her head forward. “The horses, do they have names?”

  Grabbing the reins, Sam gave her a faint smile. “The one to your left is Salt, and the other is Pepper.”

  A giggle escaped. Salt was black and Pepper was white. “Shouldn’t it be the opposite?”

  Now Sam had a smile. It was a nice smile, full of clean teeth in two even rows. “My sister, Liza, named them when she was still a young child. She didn’t know which was which, only that they were different colors. No one had the heart to tell her otherwise because she was so proud to be given the privilege of naming them.”

  “There are four other siblings beyond Patrick and you, correct?”

  “Yes. Two brothers and two sisters. Liza is eighteen, Benjamin is fourteen, Lucas is twelve and Jeanette is five.”

  “I can’t wait to meet them. I have two brothers and a sister, so was very happy to know I’d be marrying into a large family.”

  “You and Liza will probably become quick friends. She is forever bemoaning the lack of social activities.”

  “Are there none put on by the town?” She’d been under the impression the town was quite active for being so small.

  Sam seemed to falter before giving his answer. “There are, but life on the ranch can be very busy and often, there’s no time to steal away for a bit.”

  A jab of disappointment stabbed her. Not that she minded hard work and staying busy, but she’d been hoping for opportunities to meet other ladies from Weatherton and make new friends. But I won’t be alone. I’ll have all of Patrick’s family and Liza’s only two years my junior. Most importantly, I’ll have Patrick. Everything will be fine, she convinced herself.

  Approximately forty-five minutes later, all confidence she’d tried to hold onto fell apart when Sam announced they’d arrived. Looking at her surroundings, Maeve swallowed hard. The ranch was nothing as she’d envisioned, nothing as Patrick had made it seem. All the buildings looked run down and in need of repair. The house didn’t seem too bad, but it was much smaller than she’d expected. From the looks of it, the structure was only one level, and not a spread out one at that.

  She firmly believed in not judging by appearances, but after seeing the ranch’s condition, one could reasonably assume that Patrick was not doing as well as he’d implied. Certainly, if he’d recently bought the ranch she could have provided some leeway for the condition of the property, but that was not the case.

  Or so Patrick had said. According to him, he’d owned the ranch for six years since the day he turned eighteen.

  Did it really matter that the ranch was close to being considered dilapidated? For her entire life, money always had been sparse, but she’d never cared. As long as basic needs were provided for, she was content because she knew possessions did not define a person and she’d had a wonderful family who gave her a life full of intangible riches.

  What did matter was the possibility that Patrick had lied to her. Dishonesty was something by which she could not abide. She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Really, she did, but it was hard to ignore that rolling bundle of queasiness in her stomach, which always made an appearance when there was bad news awaiting. Additionally, there were the strange looks Sam had given her at times. Just how much of what Patrick had written was the truth, and how much was a falsehood?

  There was an easy solution to find her answers, and he sat beside her. All she had to do was ask Sam. She opened her mouth, but abruptly closed it back. There had to be a legitimate explanation for Patrick’s absence, his twisting of truths. But on the chance there was not, she didn’t want to know. Not yet when she had no alternatives. Turning back now was not an option; she hadn’t enough funds to return home, but she could not devote herself to a liar.

  As her anxiety grew, she closed her eyes and sent a prayer to Heaven. Only He could help her from the quandary in which she suspected she’d entered.

  Chapter 4

  Why hadn’t he tasked one of the younger children with cleaning out the stalls? Sam shoveled another pile of manure from the stall, consciously pushing ungracious thoughts from his mind—thoughts such as dumping the load of excrement onto Patrick’s boots. Which, of course, was impossible because Patrick was nowhere to be found.

  A week had passed since Maeve’s arrival and not a word from Patrick. Enough was enough. He didn’t have the time to spare, but he was going to town. Someone must have seen him or have some knowledge of where he was. Even for Patrick, this was completely out of line.

  Strange, he never stopped to consider his brother could have been hurt. Now that he’d had the thought, smidgens of guilt afflicted him. Knowing his brother’s personality and propensity for making poor decisions, the possibility he’d angered someone to the point of bringing harm was very real. There was also the chance he could’ve been hurt by natural occurrences, such as being thrown from his horse.

  It wasn’t that long ago, Sam had been hurled off his own horse, Bolt. True to his name, Bolt had bolted when spooked by a rattlesnake crossing his path. The action was unexpected and took Sam by surprise. He’d ended up flat on his backside. Hitting the ground, he’d landed in a way that twisted his ankle, and Doc had made him stay off his feet for a week. That had lasted three days—there was too much work to be done to lie around in bed for that long. His back had also been injured, not severely, but there were times it was still sore.

  Such as now. He leaned the shovel against a wall and rubbed his lower back. If it didn’t let up, he might have to ask Ma for some of that liniment she kept on hand. However, that would mean going into the house, an action he’d been avoiding since Maeve’s arrival. He hated seeing the questions in her eyes, knowing that she was figuring out she’d come to Weatherton under false impressions. From the little he’d been able to discover about her, it was enough to know that she deserved someone much better than Patrick. Everything in him wanted to tell her the truth and warn her away from his brother.

  Except, he wasn’t so sure he could. There was a battle happening in his conscience about what would be the right thing to do. He had no clear answers, which is why he’d stayed close to the old shack, several hundred feet behind the house. He’d moved into it last year, finding that he needed his own space from the family. It was a simple structure, built to house the temporary cowhands they hired from time to time.

  There was also another building, an even smaller one, built many years ago when Sam was just a small boy. Once upon a time, the ranch had thrived, back when Pa was still alive. Ma had had her hands full with so many young ones, so Pa had hired an old Indian woman to help with the cooking and cleaning. She’d stayed with them for ten years until she passed away in her sleep one night. After that was when Pa took sick and the ranch began to decline.

  One day, Sam would see that the ranch was brought back to its former glory, but if he had to keep chasing after Patrick, it was never going to happen. Looking around, all he saw was the work that needed to be done. He sighed, feeling more like a father than a brother. He didn’t mind helping with the younger children, but he shouldn’t have to keep track of his twin brother, or remind him of his responsibilities to the family. Sometimes, he wondered why he even bothered.

  He left the shovel and wheelbarrow out. Benjamin and Lucas could finish mucking the stalls when they came home. They’d been invited to a picnic with their closest neighbors, a rare occurrence, and Ma gave them permission despite the chores that waited. She’d been so happy they’d been invited somewhere that she hadn’t had the heart to tell them no. Many folks around Weatherton avoided the Holden family, not wishing to have any entanglements with Patrick. Such a shame, his actions adversely affected the entire family.

  “Ma,” he called out just before he got to the house.

  Maeve appeared on the porch, drying her hands on an apron. “She took Jeanette do
wn to the stream to splash around and cool off.”

  “You didn’t care to join them?” He hoped his terseness didn’t show through.

  Lately, it felt like no one but he cared if the ranch succeeded or not. That wasn’t a fair thought, and he knew it. He shouldn’t begrudge his family the little enjoyments they found because goodness knew there were precious few at times. Just once, though, he’d like to be carefree and take an entire day, he’d even settle for an afternoon, and do something entirely for himself.

  “The bread wasn’t fully risen yet when Jeannette started asking to go, so I told your Ma I’d stay here and take care of it.”

  Her attitude of serving humbled him. For a week, she’d gone out of her way to help Ma. Not once had he heard a grumble or complaint from her and if anyone had a right to, it was she. After giving up her life in Chicago, she’d come all the way to Wyoming for what? A groom who was nowhere to be found? His whining just moments ago seemed petty now.

  “I’m heading into town for a few hours. Would you mind telling Ma I’ll be back around suppertime?”

  “I don’t mind. Would you like a cold drink before leaving? There’s a fresh pitcher of lemonade.” The early afternoon sun glinted against her deep red hair and she looked like an angel sent from above, even wearing a flour coated apron.

  He should have declined the offer. That’s what a smart man would have done. Patrick might not deserve a woman like Maeve, but he was still her fiancé, and Sam hadn’t a lick of sense to be thinking about Maeve’s beauty. Regardless, when he opened his mouth, out came a resounding “yes.” When she smiled, he knew he’d given the correct answer.

  “Have a seat, and I’ll bring it right out. The porch’s shade feels cooler than the inside of the house.” She disappeared through the door, but not before Sam noticed her smile faltering.