“Whoa, Merryweather,” Blossom called as they came upon the next farm. She steered the horse through the gate and up the trail.
The Hopkins’ animal farm was homely and open. There were always people there, whether they were a Hopkins family member or not. Blossom brought Merryweather to a halt as they reached the next gate that kept the more unruly animals from wandering away.
A familiar three-note whistle sounded. She looked up to find Mrs. Hopkins waving enthusiastically from the porch.
“It’s so lovely to see you, dear!” the woman called out from a couple of yards away. Mrs. Hopkins was short, round, and had the ruddiest cheeks in all of town. Today, her hair looked like a bird’s nest as she made her way around the chickens with her youngest child clinging to her skirts. “You look like a queen up there on your gorgeous steed.”
Such extravagant compliments made Blossom laugh. “You’re too kind, Mrs. Hopkins! I just came by on my ride today to see how Farmer Hopkins and his fox are faring?”
The older woman chuckled, patting her sides and the head of the child. It took a moment to realize that it was little Jane covered in mud.
Jane looked like she had been playing with the turtles down by the creek again. It had been the strangest thing to see her pull out all three turtles during church the other week. Blossom gave the three-year-old a hearty wink before turning back. She hoped the girl hadn’t been in too much trouble for that trick.
“Ah, yes,” Mrs. Hopkins sighed. “That old fox. It’s turned my James into an old goose. I mean, I always considered myself his old hen, but this has us in a whole new pond. Or house. Or something or other, I do suppose. The poor animal lost its leg, and James has more scratches than he’s ever had in his lifetime. But they’re both sleeping, so I suppose that’s good. All I have to do now is keep the Mayor away from them.”
Blossom tutted thoughtfully as she frowned. “Oh, that is terrible! Dear me. Well, Mayor Wilson is a good man. But I know he was rather furious when Farmer Hopkins took the injured animal in instead of killing it. Whatever is he going to do after the animal heals? Free him to injure other creatures?”
The woman threw her hands up in the air. “He hasn’t thought that far!”
That was just like Farmer Hopkins.
Blossom shared her sympathy. “I’m terribly sorry, that must be most difficult. Well, I thought I would come by with Merryweather and Daisy here to cheer everyone up and see if I can be of any help. Is there anything I can do for you and your family?”
Mrs. Hopkins was always grateful for a helping hand, though she wasn’t always aware of what help she needed. Blossom collected the eggs and cleaned up Jane before gathering her horse and duck to finish up her ride for the day.
Merryweather was more than eager to get back to the road. Blossom sat up straight with her shoulders back, just like she had been taught. Her eyes scouted on the horizon, enjoying her view.
Though there were a few people who desired to travel through the western lands and explore the territories, Blossom wasn’t sure where that came from. Livingsfield was a beautiful place. This was home.
It could be hard to block out the memories of what happened to her mother. If she wasn’t careful, the pain and darkness would envelope her again.
But I won’t let it. For the last five years, Blossom had done everything she could to resume her normal life.
The sky stretched on forever like a warm blanket where she could tuck her toes into the sand and lush dirt and greenery. There were beautiful tall trees in the east that stretched up high into the clouds. To the west was the desert, where the cactus thrived and the wolves sang at night. Every springtime came the sweet winds that ruffled her hair.
When Merryweather slowed, Blossom directed them toward home. She had stayed away long enough, and she worried for her father. He was growing older and she didn’t like leaving him alone for very long.
“Father?” Blossom fixed her braid and then sighed in relief.
He was fast asleep in his chair. She dropped her arms and patted his shoulder before walking over to the fire. The food was a little too cooked. Nor had it been stirred for some time. Most likely, he had never touched it.
Blossom scolded herself for expecting her father to take on any more responsibilities. He did more than enough by keeping the roof over their heads. The least she could do is properly feed them.
So that’s what she did. With a few spices and enough potatoes, Blossom disguised the bitter burnt taste. She prepared their supper and then set everything down on their table. Three places for their little family.
“Something smells good.”
Her father stood up and stretched as she turned around to face him. His hair was gray and there were more wrinkles lately. But his eyes still sparkled. And he still had that smile he saved for her.
It made her feel like she was five again without a care in the world and free of all danger. She grinned back.
“You always say that,” she reminded him.
“And it always tastes good,” he pointed out to her in return.
The two of them sat down at their table. After he offered grace, they dug in. Three placements were set for the two of them. They had only eaten a few bites by the time her father cleared his throat and spoke again.
“Tomorrow’s your birthday. Twenty-three years, Blossom. What would you like as your gift?”
Blossom chuckled. “What are you talking about? I’m too old for that, Father. Besides, I have all that I could possibly need. I have my horse, my duck, our goats, our sheep, a roof, and you. I have all that I want. There’s no more that I could want or need. I don’t need any gifts.”
“I insist,” he told her. “Anything you would like. I’m sure I could manage. Surely there’s something you would like. Ribbons for your hair, or even ribbons for your horse. A new bonnet or- or a new dress?”
Her father had always doted so kindly on her. It made her wish there was something she could fancy just to make him happy. But she was content.
She shrugged sheepishly at him. “I’m sorry, but I can’t think of anything. I’m happy. I’m not sure there’s anything more I could need.”
For the last couple of years, it was her father who had decided upon her gifts. She couldn’t bring herself to ask for anything or even to want anything. The last time I asked for a birthday present was the day Mother died.
Her father shook his head as he pushed his potatoes around on his plate. “Perhaps not. But let us go into town tomorrow. We’ll find something you’d like, and that will be your gift.”
Blossom rolled her eyes, trying not to grin. He was a handsome old man who adored teaching his students. She remembered going to classes with him and loving to listen to him teach. It was a game they had, always looking for a book he had yet to read.
But she loved her father so she nodded. “Tomorrow, then,” she agreed. “Now, eat your carrots.”
Chapter Three
Chester’s Nails
There weren’t many occasions for Chester to head into town.
Except he had run out of nails and was in the middle of fixing the Bretts’ leaking roof. It was going to rain soon. That roof needed to be fixed before the weather worsened.
The moist scent lingered in the air as he fixed on his hat and headed out.
Though he saddled up his horse, Chester decided against riding at first. There was something satisfying about walking along the hard ground in his boots.
He had come a long way on his own in the last couple of years, and he was proud of that. Five years had passed since he’d left the gang and settled himself in Livingsfield.
Though it was the hardest thing he had ever done, it was also the best.
Many nights he still dreamed of that poor woman lying in her own blood. But there was a small semblance of relief when he woke up and was no longer with the men who had committed such a cold and heinous act. The smell had slowly gone away with time.
His little shack was now a l
ittle home with a farm, a couple of animals, and a new gate that led straight into the Bretts’ yard. It’s not much. But it’s mine. I didn’t know how much I needed the quiet until I found it. Or rather, it found me.
Chester whistled as he walked his horse until they reached Main Street where the shops were settled and people passed along. Only then did he tip his hat down low and turn quiet as he headed toward the blacksmith’s forge for his business.
The place still set him on edge, reminding him of his childhood and harsh father.
“I need nails the same size as last time, about a thumb span. Just twenty for now,” he told Henson the blacksmith once he had stepped inside. “I think that will be enough to hold me over.”
The large man grunted without saying anything. Though no one was talkative when Chester came around, it wasn’t hard to notice that he was often the cause of quiet and gossip. But he minded his own business and tried not to expect too much from anyone.
“I’ll pay up front,” he muttered before pulling out a couple of coins.
Henson grunted as he picked up the coins. “I have four now. The rest will be ready in an hour. Come back then.”
Chester didn’t talk to a lot of people since no one trusted him. They knew he had a rough background, though he wasn’t certain what details they might know. Only that they didn’t trust the people they didn’t know and they didn’t want to know him. This wouldn’t be the first time he overpaid for something, and probably not the last.
He nodded to the man before turning away. Chester mumbled that he would stay nearby in the meantime and stepped back out in the sunlight.
Chester was walking around the back of a few of the buildings, looking to take a walk without being bothered or bothering others, when he heard the shouting.
“Help! Please, someone! I need some help!”
Chester straightened up.
He looked around, ears pricked for the voice. It was a woman close by. His mouth turned dry as he started to search for the person.
Adrenaline surged through his body as he started to move.
It was just as he turned behind the back street that he saw movement. There was someone kneeling over the ground. Long hair billowed in the wind. Chester ran over, his hat nearly flying off his head.
He rushed across the path to find a young woman crouching over an older man. Her hands fluttered over the fallen man, tugging at him and trying to help him, though it wasn’t doing anyone any good.
The panic was evident in her mannerisms as she couldn’t decide what to do. She couldn’t just sit there, but she clearly wasn’t strong enough to lift the man either. Whoever this man was, he looked like he was dead.
“Help, please!” she cried out.
“What happened?” Chester glanced between them, looking for blood.
The young girl shook her head as she knelt back down in the dirt. Her hands fluttered from the fallen man’s chest to her skirts to her bonnet. “I don’t know! He just fell over, he collapsed- I don’t know what happened. He’s my father. I can’t lose him- I don’t know what happened.” Her voice was laced with fear.
His eyes dropped down to the figure lying on the ground. The man did look rather dead. He had graying hair and a goatee. His face was bright red and covered with wrinkles.
Chester glanced around to quickly gauge their options. He put a hand on the man’s chest, trying to decide if he lived or not. If he didn’t, then there was no need to panic.
If he did, then they had to act fast. There wasn’t much he knew about medicine, but they did have a doctor in town.
Chester tried to remember where. It was just like the days where he had to come up with a fast escape. But this was something different. Now he could help someone instead of getting someone hurt. He calculated how quickly it would take to get the man to the doctor’s home.
A groan escaped the stranger’s lips, but there was no other sign of life. Chester put a hand to the man’s mouth.
“What are you doing?” The woman’s fearful voice wavered.
Sighing in relief, Chester gestured to her to move back. He was just glad he didn’t have to worry about telling the woman that the man they were next to was dead. “He’s breathing. I think he needs to see a doctor. Back up. I’ll carry him.”
“The doctor?” She scrambled up as he knelt over the man and carefully hefted him up. The old man wasn’t as heavy as he had expected. He grunted once and then started moving. If he stopped, he wasn’t sure he could make it. The young lady hurried after him. “What do you think is wrong with him?”
“Don’t know,” Chester managed. “But the doctor should. It’s just around the next two houses.”
“Oh! Oh, yes. All right.” The young lady’s gaze glanced between the two men as she struggled to keep up with his long stride. “I don’t know what happened. He cried out and then just fell! I didn’t know what to do.”
Chester didn’t know how to respond. His heart hammered as he tried to do all that he could to help her. Wanting to focus on the unconscious man, he picked up his speed and made his way over to the doctor’s.
The young lady followed behind and knocked on the door hurriedly when he gestured at her to do so. She offered a loud, firm rap on the wooden door.
“Hello? Doctor!” she called out desperately. “Please, we need your help!”
The door opened to reveal Doc Brown. They were ushered inside where there was a cot so Chester set the man down. He straightened up and then backed away, not knowing if there was anything else he could do to be useful. The doctor kneeled down to check on the man.
“What happened?” He demanded.
Chester hesitated and turned to the woman.
There was a basket in her hands that she fiddled with in her distress. “I don’t know,” she cried out. “We were just walking into town like we always do. It’s warm, but I didn’t think it would be dangerous. He- he cried out and then fell to the ground. I don’t know what happened! But he didn’t get up. He wouldn’t get back up. I didn’t… Well? What happened? He’s going to be well, won’t he?”
Doc Brown shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do. But it would be best if the two of you stepped outside so that I could work in peace.”
The woman inhaled shakily without moving. Chester hesitated, and then gave her a polite nudge on the elbow toward the door.
“Let the Doc work,” he suggested, trying to think of anything else he could do to help. “I’m sure your father will wake up soon. Let’s get you some fresh air.”
It’s what Lowry used to do for their sisters when they would cry. But he couldn’t remember anything else. Chester hated it when girls cried. He was too used to them knowing just what to do to fix their problems.
Girls, no matter their age, were always clever with a solution. When they cried, it meant real trouble. And that was enough to scare a grown man.
He saw her chin wobble. But then she nodded and jerkily moved away. After she had looked over her shoulder at her father one more time, the woman shuffled outside. She inhaled sharply upon exiting the house and dropped the basket that she had been clinging to.
Chester closed the door behind him just as he wondered if he should leave. He hesitated, remembering the judging looks he usually received on the occasions he went to town . If she looked up and noticed who he was, he wasn’t sure he wanted to cause her any more concern.
Except he heard a sniffle. And another. Chester felt his heart clench when he glanced at the young lady.
“Are you… feeling well?” he attempted after a moment.
A whimper escaped her mouth. She brought her hands up to cover her lips as she sniffled again. “I’m terribly sorry for my manners,” she stammered. “I’m not usually like this. I’m very sorry. It’s not the right time and if my father is fine, then I suppose these are only foolish tears. But I can’t seem to help myself.”
He opened his mouth. Then he closed it.
Chester wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. “No,
it’s fine. I mean, I’m sure it gave you a fright. He didn’t look too good lying there.” He froze as he realized what he was saying. “But he’ll be fine! I’m sure. Your father, he was breathing all right. So maybe it was just the heat. He didn’t break anything, right?”
“Well, no,” she sniffled.
Chester scratched his head. “Right. And there wasn’t blood, so he should be fine. I’m sure he will be. He might even walk right out of here in a minute. Or tomorrow, I don’t know. Soon, I’m sure,” he stammered. “He’ll be just fine, and you’ll be fine as well.”
A Deal with the Cowboy’s Tangled Heart: A Historical Western Romance Book Page 3
