The Scars of a Pure Heart

by Grace Clemens

  “She asked about your health,” Blake explained, “and told me to say hi.”

  Oh, how catty! Macie knew that, to Blake, this would all seem friendly. But she was all too aware that it was anything but. Belle knew that Macie wouldn’t like having her lurking around Blake and had used him to inform his wife of that very thing. It was a nasty move meant to upset her, and Macie was irritated at how well it was working.

  “Did you talk with her for long?” Macie pressed, not sure why she was doing so.

  Her husband shrugged. “No, not long. Troy and I went into the general store and looked at tools. She showed up and we talked a little.”

  Did he look uncomfortable or was it her imagination? Macie felt a stab of jealousy. Were Blake’s ears turning red? They were! Her eyes widened. Macie pictured the curvaceous Miss Nelson, fuming. Did thoughts of Belle make him blush?

  “That was nice of her,” she said flatly, smoke practically coming from her ears.

  Blake gave her a funny look. He might be a man but even he seemed to notice the discrepancy between her tone and her words. “I didn’t know the two of you were friendly,” he ventured.

  “I didn’t know the two of you were friendly,” Macie shot back.

  His eyebrows lifted in surprise at the acid in her voice. “Well, we’ve lived in Elmswood all our lives. I suppose we were destined to interact some.”

  Macie’s frown deepened at that word “destined.” It was all together too romantic to be ignored.

  “Belle seemed to set her cap for me some time back,” he admitted.

  “Why didn’t you ask her to marry you, then?” Macie couldn’t keep herself from asking, disliking the accusation in her voice.

  Blake shrugged uncomfortably. “It didn’t seem like a good idea at the time.”

  Macie fumed internally. She had a feeling she knew exactly why Blake didn’t ask Belle. He was only intending to marry a woman long enough to get his hands on his grandfather’s map. She had no doubt that if he’d had his druthers he would have annulled his marriage to Macie, gone off adventuring, and eventually come back to Elmswood with his pockets overflowing with treasure and walked straight into Belle’s waiting arms.

  The atmosphere in the small cabin turned icy and from Blake’s occasional worried glance in her direction, he likely had no idea what had gone wrong. Sure that she’d interpreted things correctly, Macie crocheted furiously. When the clock finally announced that it was time to retire, she said the briefest of good nights to her husband and stalked off to bed.

  Later, as she lay restlessly between her sheets, Macie wondered at her dramatic response to Blake’s off-hand comment about Belle. He’d only been passing on her greeting, after all. But Belle wasn’t a friend. Their first meeting had made that quite clear. Macie ground her teeth, knowing that Belle’s plan to get under her skin had succeeded.

  Macie wasn’t the type to get angry so easily or be unforgiving. She’d never been jealous before in her life. Of course, she’d never had a fellow to be jealous over, come to think of it. Still, she found herself comparing all her worst qualities to all of Belle’s best ones and growing more and more insecure about her appearance.

  Belle had a womanly figure that fellows noticed. Macie was taller and slimmer with a figure that was passable. Belle had all that glorious dark, wavy hair. Macie’s was mouse brown and fell straight down to her shoulders. Belle was bold, Macie reserved. But most terribly obvious of all: Belle’s complexion was smooth and Macie had those ugly scars.

  She ran her fingers over them, angry tears pricking at her eyes. The worst thing was that she now wondered at Blake’s real intentions towards her. Sure, he said he didn’t want an annulment and that he was glad to be married to her. But did he secretly wish it was bold, curvy Belle he was pulling into his arms instead of thin, drab Macie?

  He was tall, broad-shouldered, and good looking. His wide, bright smile made Macie’s heart skip a beat every time. She knew his chiseled jaw and rusty curls would look far better next to Miss Nelson. How could any man prefer Macie to Belle?

  And as she stood in front of the cabin the next morning, watching Blake ride off, she felt miserable. Maybe he would be better off if she was out of the picture. Was she holding him back from getting the woman he really wanted? What if he only was sticking with Macie because he was too much a gentleman to back out of their marriage now that he knew she wanted to stay?

  Blake looked back over his shoulder at her just as he reached the bend in the drive that would take him out of sight and waved. She lifted a hand, too far away for him to see the tears that were slipping down her cheeks.

  Chapter 34

  To an outsider observing the occupants of the Yellow Rose Ranch, it would have seemed that nothing was amiss. It would have taken a particularly keen eye to notice the pair of sheriff’s deputies disguised as ranch hands, who milled about before disappearing into the stable and the cob house to take up watch.

  One real hand headed in to the big house complaining of a stomachache and needing Mrs. Bradfield’s care. Twenty minutes later, another hand followed him, toting a load of fire wood. Neither of these fellows returned either, though the rest of the fellows kept working in the yard as usual.

  Soon Clora strolled along, children in tow, and made her own way into the big house. Macie soon followed, crocheting basket on her hip. Once the women and children were in place, Troy sent the extra guards to watch the herd before taking off on horseback himself. Harris went into the stables carrying a length of rope and was soon nowhere to be found. Even Len limped outside and soon ducked into an outbuilding.

  Macie knew all this was going on outside as planned. They’d carefully choreographed all of it and she watched first from her bedroom window and then from behind Judy’s kitchen curtains. Soon there was nothing to do but wait for Durning’s attack. Would it come as they expected?

  She chewed at her thumbnail and prayed that Blake was traveling unharmed. The plan was for him to ride out of town then double back and take up watch of the road, close enough to hear the whistle of warning should he be needed.

  If the previous day had been long, it was nothing compared to this. Every nerve was thrumming as Macie waited. She knew it was entirely likely that nothing would happen until nightfall. They’d known this when they made their plans and had arranged for the guards to come for meals one at a time. In fact, it had been speculated that night was the most likely time for Durning to strike. But that didn’t keep Macie from pacing the floor.

  “How is Troy Junior?” she asked Clora who came into the kitchen after almost an hour.

  The older woman gave a tight smile and replied, “He doesn’t know that anything is amiss, so he’s as active as ever. It’s a nice distraction for Judy, I think.”

  Macie nodded distractedly.

  Her sister-in-law put a hand on her arm and said, “Blake is a resourceful fellow. He can handle any trouble that comes his way.”

  Macie tried to smile in return but feared that she only managed a grimace.

  Clora moved the kettle on the stove. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “No, thank you. I think I’ll go to the outhouse.”

  “Be careful,” Clora warned.

  Macie nodded woodenly and went outside. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the very air seemed to quiver with anticipation. She took care of her personal needs quickly and hurried back towards the house. Being outside made her fear that her every move was being watched. Her eyes darted everywhere but everything was as it should be.

  “Mrs. Bradfield?”

  Coming from behind the outhouse was Deputy Mitchell, looking worried.

  “Has something happened?” she demanded.

  The man drew near. “One of the ranch hands just gave me this note and asked me to give it to you.” He handed over a rough paper.

  Macie opened it and read, “’We have Blake Bradfield. Come alone to the box canyon on the north side of the property. If you bring anyone with you, we will
kill him.’” She looked up, heart hammering. “Which of the hands was it?”

  “Dusty,” Deputy Mitchell said grimly. “He was on guard duty and said a masked man rode up and gave this to him to give to you. Do you think I should alert everyone?”

  “No, don’t do that. It says they’ll kill Blake if they see I’m not alone. Len and Judy would never let me go off on my own. If Blake dies, Lucien wins. The Bradfields would give up their land rather than let anything else happen to their family.” Her fingers ran over the scars on her chin absently. “How far is the canyon?”

  “It’s not more than two miles to the northwest. We rode out there yesterday when we were checking the property.” The deputy gave her further instructions how to find it.

  “Wait a half hour, then tell the men what happened and come for us. I’m sure you can figure out how to creep up on them. We’ll play it by ear from there.”

  “That’s a good plan,” the deputy affirmed. “Take my horse. It’s saddled and waiting behind the cob house.”

  Macie nodded solemnly. If she went into the house, she was sure to tip off the others that something was wrong. If she went into the stables to get a horse, the men posted there would never let her go. She needed to leave immediately and the deputy knew it.

  “Thank you for your help,” she said.

  “Good luck,” he replied.

  Without waiting another moment, she took off towards the cob house. A black horse stood saddled and content, munching grass and shaking the flies away with a whicker. She took the reins and led the animal over to the fence where she climbed up and into the saddle. Then, with a prayer, she flicked the reins and the horse started off towards the box canyon where Blake was being held by an unknown number of Lucien Durning’s thugs.

  ***

  It had been a quiet ride out of town for Blake that morning. His thoughts had been occupied by Macie’s prickly behavior. What exactly had been the problem? This question had been following him around ever since last evening. He’d passed along Belle’s message and then Macie had gone all funny. Blake tried to recall everything he’d said, hoping for a clue.

  He’d reached his intended destination almost before he’d realized it. There was a creek south of town where a mesquite grove had grown up. It didn’t belong to anyone in particular and was always untidy and overgrown. If anyone was following him, this spot would be a believable place where a traveler might stop and readjust his rucksack or let his horse have a drink.

  As Blake dismounted, his eyes scraped the horizon. There was no movement, no other travelers of any sort, no spies watching. He breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever Durning’s plan might be, it wasn’t to capture Blake on his way out of town. That meant the attack would come at the ranch where there were plenty of people waiting and watching.

  Just to be sure, he let his horse have a long drink before mounting up and heading back to the ranch with a wide loop. This path would more than double the travel he’d have to do, but it took him a long way around Elmswood. He would pass no farms or ranches on his way back to the Yellow Rose.

  He was eager to get back and into place. It was necessary that Blake be seen heading out of town, but he chafed at the fact that he wasn’t where the action was. Though Macie would be tucked away safely with his mother and sister-in-law under the watchful eye of their two most trusted hands, Blake worried. Durning was a wild card that might be played at any moment and change the game dramatically.

  The horse plodded along and Blake had to fight the urge to gallop home. It would be a long journey and there really was no need to push his horse. Anything could happen that afternoon or evening and the horse would have to wait with his saddle on for some time to come. He knew the poor fellow shouldn’t be tired, but it took real restraint to keep his steady pace.

  Despite the urgency of the day, Blake’s mind was soon wandering. So, when he came around a hill and spotted a covered wagon stranded with a broken wheel, he nearly jumped out of his saddle with surprise.

  “Hello, there,” called a man by the wagon, waving both arms to catch Blake’s attention.

  He drew his horse to a stop and nodded warily to the man.

  “Thanks for stopping,” the man said. “Could you help me take this wheel off? My wife is sickly and I don’t want to delay our arrival in Elmswood.”

  Blake tried to see inside the faded canvas cover but could see nothing. As anxious as he was to get home, he couldn’t leave this fellow here. It did occur to him that this could be one of Durning’s tricks. Still, this fellow didn’t look like the sort of ruffian Durning seemed to prefer hiring.

  “The name’s Hughes, Ephraim Hughes,” the man said, sticking out a hand.

  Blake shook it and said, “I’m Blake Bradfield.”

  “You live around these parts?” Ephraim inquired conversationally.

  “My family owns a ranch outside Elmswood,” said Blake.

  Ephraim reached for his tools. “The wife and I are coming from San Antonio. She’s got family in these parts and we’re hoping they’ll need an extra set of hands around their farm.”

  The two men got down to the business of changing the wheel. It was an onerous job. The wagon was heavy and removing the wheel required levering the wagon up enough to remove it. Between the two of them, they were able to manage it, though they were both drenched with sweat by the time they finished.

  “I can’t thank you enough for your help,” Ephraim said, chest heaving. “I’d like you to meet my wife.”

  Blake wiped his face with his handkerchief as the other man walked to the opening at the back of the wagon. He was out of sight for a moment and Blake took the time to grimace at the further delay.

  Then, from around the corner of the wagon, came Ephraim Hughes assisting a thin woman. She certainly looked ill, Blake thought, all fear of this being a trap evaporating. The introductions were made and soon Blake was allowed to be on his way. He chuckled to himself as he rode off. Ephraim and Nancy had surely been grateful for his help. It made him feel glad that he’d stopped.

  Once he reached the edge of Bradfield land, he dismounted again and began to move warily towards his hiding spot. His horse was left in a shady grove of trees and Blake moved on alone to the hill where he planned to lie flat, watching the ranch down below.

  He crept up to the top, trying to keep as low as possible. The sun was beating down and he was already plenty hot from helping change the wagon wheel. There were a few small bushes here which helped hide him and offered a little shade. Blake wiggled into place before reaching into his pack for the sandwiches and canteen Macie had placed there that morning.

  As he ate his late lunch, he thought over the events of the day so far. No trap had been sprung and all was calm. Having arrived here unharmed was sort of anti-climactic, really, not that Blake was complaining. The Hughes hadn’t been dangerous. Sure, they’d slowed him down some, but that was all.

  A funny little voice in his head asked: What if that had been Lucien’s plan? Blake’s forehead crumpled as he considered that. Could Durning have wanted him delayed in returning? If so, that would mean that somehow, he’d been alerted to their plans.

  Blake listed the people who knew of their plan and could have betrayed them. Well, there was Iver Kennedy, of course. But the only other were the sheriff and his deputies. As reluctant as Blake was to mistrust the sheriff and his men, he had to admit that it was possible that they might be bribed or threatened by Lucien Durning.

  Was he just looking for trouble where there was none? Surely Ephraim Hughes didn’t break a wheel on purpose just so he could delay Blake. But he couldn’t quite convince himself, no matter how hard he tried.

  Blake was trying to decide if these suspicions were worth pursuing when movement caught his eye. He lifted his head as much as he dared and squinted at the dark horse riding off towards the open spread beyond. It wouldn’t have given him any pause except for the fact that the rider was most certainly wearing a dress.