A Deal with the Cowboy’s Tangled Heart: A Historical Western Romance Book

by Cassidy Hanton

  Her heart softened as she brushed his hair back softly away from his face. She kissed his forehead before tucking his blankets up to his chin. Only after making sure the pillows were nice and fluffy did she turn away.

  During that time, Chester had been polite enough to step backwards into the hallway where he waited for her.

  She managed a tight smile as she joined him in the hall. Closing the door behind her, so her father could have some peace and quiet, she motioned to her guest to follow her into the kitchen.

  “Thank you again,” Blossom told him softly. “Honestly, I cannot thank you enough. You have done so much for me and my father. We’ve taken so much time out of your day now. It’s nearly supper time, so may I at least repay you with a meal before you go?”

  Chester smiled with a shake of his head. “I couldn’t impose on you like that. Not after your father…”

  But she shook her head as well before walking a little closer. “No, please. I want to, I really do.” Her eyes met his with hope. Those eyes of his were a dark brown, so dark they were almost black. It felt like a whirlpool that drew her in whether she wanted to or not. “It won’t take very long.”

  He hesitated as though he were preparing to shake his head one more time. But then to her surprise, and it looked like his own from the way his eyes widened, he nodded.

  “I suppose I can stay a little longer,” Chester offered.

  Blossom couldn’t help but beam. “Wonderful.” It wouldn’t be much, but surely it would be a start to repaying Chester for all of his kindness. “Please, take a seat. Let me get you some water first.”

  It was such a relief for her to be able to do something. This was her home, her domain. She knew where everything was and what she could do with everything. Before, with her father at the doctor’s home, there was nothing she could do and nothing that she understood. Being at home was different.

  “Thank you,” Chester gave her a sheepish smile when he accepted the glass of water from her. “That’s mighty kind of you.”

  “My pleasure,” she assured him. The heat rose to her cheeks again before she could help it. Blossom didn’t think that it made any sense, but she couldn’t seem to stop it.

  There was something familiar about Chester that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. He was helpful and strong and kind on top of being handsome and polite. Blossom studied him from the corner of her eye as she heated up the fire to prepare him something to eat quickly. She didn’t want to waste his time, after all.

  When she paused to give him some bread and butter, Blossom wondered if she had seen him at church. His deep voice sounded a little familiar. And those eyes of his were just so dark. She’d known that sensation before of feeling like she was sinking into his gaze.

  But Blossom didn’t know what to do about it.

  He wasn’t from church, he said, nor did he often go out into town. She wondered if she had simply heard of him or seen him from a distance. But that didn’t sound too likely. She wavered, unable to make up her mind.

  By the time she was finishing cooking, Blossom decided to give up for the time being. She put the plate before Chester and offered a smile. If they did know each other already, then that was swell. It was also swell if they didn’t know anything about each other.

  “That was delicious.” Chester finished his plate quickly and quietly. There wasn’t a crumb left on his plate. He rubbed his hands together as he gave her a friendly smile. He looked refreshed, she thought, and a little happier. “I’ve never eaten anything so good in all my life.”

  His compliment made her blush. “Oh, you don’t need to flatter me. I’m simply trying to return the favor.”

  “You just have,” he told her insistently. “Honest. This was the best food I’ve ever eaten. That was very kind of you to make it for me, Blossom. I appreciate it.”

  She inhaled deeply as they stood up. Her chest hammered at such a generous claim. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it. Though I assure you, this debt is not yet paid. I am glad you enjoyed the food, though. Please, take the rest of the bread to go. I insist,” she added when he opened his mouth.

  It was bundled up and placed into his hands before he could protest. Chester offered her a sheepish smile and then a shrug. “I suppose I’ll have to take it now. Thank you again, Blossom. I won’t keep you a minute longer. If there’s anything more I can do to be of service, though, will you let me know?”

  Blossom guided him to the door. She opened it and turned back to him. The sunlight was streaming right through which put a sparkle in his eyes. It made her want to giggle like a little girl. But she managed to swallow it down just in time. “I shall. Thank you, Chester. Do be safe now.”

  He tipped his hat to her as he headed out the door. “Yes, ma’am. Take care of yourself and your father.”

  “I will.” Blossom stayed put in the doorway as she watched Chester return to his horse.

  The man patted his horse’s nose before running a hand down the neck and reaching the saddle. It wasn’t so much that he was trying to be slow, Blossom noted, only that he didn’t want to rush the animal before connecting with it. She thought of the Hopkins family and how well they treated their animals. Apparently, Chester loved creatures just as much as they did.

  She couldn’t resist a smile as the young man jumped smoothly into the saddle, nodded to her one last time, and then turned around to go. He sat tall in the saddle, riding comfortably as he headed back the way they had come. There was a bit of a trip for him, she supposed, and hoped it wouldn’t take too long.

  Once he was out of view, Blossom stepped back inside to shut the door.

  It was quiet again without him there. I wonder if I’ll see him again. The home even felt a little more empty than usual. Turning back to the kitchen, Blossom started to hum as she thought about what had just happened. There were so many thoughts in her head that she didn’t know where to start.

  Her father. She hurried to go peek in on him. Fortunately, he was fast asleep. She could even hear his soft snoring, which always meant he was sleeping well. Relief swept over her.

  Yet she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep that night, knowing how worried she would be about her father. A lump formed in her throat as she remembered the moment he had collapsed beside her. She had been so worried about him. They were beyond fortunate that he was going to be all right.

  Except he was going to have to rest a lot more often. He wasn’t going to like that, Blossom knew. But now she would do everything she could to make sure that her father took better care of himself. They were going to have to slow down. She wondered if they needed to purchase him a wagon or a horse, but knew her father’s pride wouldn’t permit that.

  Maybe she could have the doctor talk to her father again. Blossom thought of that carefully for a moment before her thoughts turned to Chester. It was hard to explain, but that’s where her thoughts led her time and time again.

  He was intriguing.

  There was so much that he hadn’t said. The more she thought about their conversation, Blossom realized that she had hardly heard anything about Chester. She knew that he came from somewhere else since his parents had passed. But that was it. Whereas she had talked about caring for her father, his work as the schoolteacher, and how much she enjoyed visiting the Hopkins farm.

  “What a mysterious man,” Blossom mused as she stirred the coals.

  Her thoughts wandered as she tried to imagine just who Chester could be. She wondered if he had been born back east and desired to conquer the Wild West like so many others had over the last couple of years. Perhaps he owned a mine in the surrounding territories and had found treasure he wanted to keep hidden.

  She wondered where he lived and if he lived alone. He hadn’t mentioned a wife or having any other family around town. He seemed like the type of man to live a private life. She couldn’t recall the name being mentioned before.

  Though she had asked him about the stares they had received, he hadn’t quite answer
ed that. It was growing dark outside by the time Blossom realized what had happened. She wondered why others stared at him.

  “Blossom?”

  She jerked up, wiping her hands on her apron. Thoughts of the strange Chester Lornsen were immediately set aside as she hurried to her father’s side. It was such a relief to see him awake and talking again that she prepared a quick treat of candied nuts for them as she explained just what had happened that afternoon.

  Chapter Seven

  Chester’s Memories

  As Chester climbed onto his horse, he found himself whistling on the way back to town.

  His heart felt lighter than it had felt in some time. In a long time.

  And his stomach felt satisfied in a way he hadn’t experienced in a while. Betty Bretts was a lovely cook with wholesome meals. But there was something special about the meal he’d just eaten with Blossom.

  He couldn’t remember the words of the song that he whistled, but the tune ran through his head as he went along. It was a merry and light-hearted tune that helped him keep his head up as he passed along the farms on the road.

  Each of the farms still looked as nice as before. They were laid out beautifully in the prairie with acres laid out in perfect squares to grow their vegetables. He recognized that some of them looked like corn. One might have been cabbage or lettuce. Then the rest of them appeared too far away for him to tell. But he had an imagination and used it, picturing delicious food as he went.

  He remembered the descriptions that Blossom had given to him on his walk over to her home. It was a lovely trail that he hadn’t known existed.

  A very grown over trail, but maybe with some time and attention, it would get used again.

  Chester was enjoying the ride until he remembered that he had needed to pick up nails at the blacksmith’s forge. Hearing Blossom’s shouts and helping her with her father had put his errands completely out of his mind.

  For a second, he considered trying to come back for them another day. But knowing the grumpy blacksmith, he supposed it would be best to deal with it straightaway. He ground his teeth and wrinkled his nose before veering his horse back in that direction.

  Already, Henson would most likely be annoyed over how long it took him to return for his purchase.

  It was feeling like a good day until he made it back into town.

  Though he came through the back streets, the change of mood quickly settled over his shoulders like a heavy weight. The whistling stopped.

  Soon his shoulders hunched over and he kept his head down, trying not to be too noticeable. Though a large man, sometimes if he kept his head down, no one looked at him. He didn’t want to bother anyone or give them a reason for trouble.

  Climbing off his horse, Chester forced himself to step into the forge where he heard loud repetitive clanging. He looked around the nearby wall to find Henson hammering away at some thick metal plating near his furnace.

  It was so hot that Chester could feel the heat from yards away. A soft layer of sweat immediately cloaked over his skin like a damp mist as he glanced around for the blacksmith.

  He considered calling for attention, but changed his mind.

  Instead, Chester stood nearby the table to wait patiently until he was noticed. He had learned to be patient over the years, waiting for answers or for another blow.

  The memories made him wrinkle his nose. They were always trying to come back to the surface to tickle his mind and rub him the wrong way.

  Usually he would be in and out of the forge within a couple of minutes. But as the clanging went on nearby, Chester scratched his head and wondered if he should interrupt. Chester wasn’t sure if that would make Henson move faster or irritate him.

  It was possible that his nails were already ready for him somewhere. He glanced around but didn’t see them.

  He shifted his balance on the balls of his feet to try and keep his patience. But as he waited and the clanging went on, Chester found himself thinking of his childhood.

  A clumsy child, Chester always had scrapes and burns on his body. Though there were other children who could have also helped out at the forge, it was him that his father expected to help him at the forge every day. His older brother was supposed to help his mother with the farming. Then his sisters would bake bread to sell and take care of the youngest.

  He wrinkled his nose at the uncomfortable memories.

  Chester remembered apologizing over and over again. But if anything, it only brought him more trouble. His father believed that men had to be strong and never cry or apologize. Men had to take charge no matter what.

  The painful memories passed on over as he thought of his siblings. He wondered where everyone was and if they were well.

  As the eldest, Nancy had decided to stay at the house after their parents passed. She had wanted everyone to also stay because they needed one another. Her bread-making skills had greatly improved over the years and she would most likely make a small but honest living that way.

  But he and Lowry were already friends with Elijah and his gang by that time. There were men who didn’t care for hitting others, just wanting to have fun and be independent. Chester had never experienced that sense of freedom before meeting them.

  “We’re headed south,” Elijah had smirked at them one night after chasing raccoons and foxes just for the fun of it. “There’s some real fun we can get into. Come with us. You’re family, aren’t you?”

  Chester had had a few doubts in the beginning, but Lowry had quickly convinced him otherwise. The other siblings would be just fine. And they could always return to visit whenever they wanted. “It’s time,” Lowry had pointed out to him, “that we live for ourselves.”

  He had liked that idea. He wanted to live his own life. So he had agreed to go with his new family, with Elijah and Lowry and the other men out of Oklahoma.

  That had left Anne there as well. She had started secretly seeing a boy in town. Their parents hadn’t known a thing, but the rest of the kids knew. It was why she never minded being the one to run errands on market day which could be crowded and annoying and loud. Anne was just sixteen years old and in love with a boy.

  Chester wondered if anything had happened. It had been ten years since he had seen any of them. He hoped that she had courted the boy and married him.

  She probably had a nice warm home and even children. That wasn’t something he had thought about too much, but he supposed he could be an uncle.

  It was a strange idea. But he liked it.

  Then there was Timmy. He had the same headaches and ear trouble that their mother was always dealing with. The boy was younger than Chester by eight years, a surprise for the whole family.

  Their father had never liked Timmy; rather, he ignored Timmy. As far as Chester could remember, their father had never even held Timmy when he was a baby.

  I sure do hope he’s doing all right. Maybe Anne is taking care of him still. An old familiar guilty sensation settled down in his stomach. Chester shifted uncomfortably. If he had been any wiser, he would have never left his family in the first place. He was just so excited to find people who really liked him that he couldn’t turn away from them.

  But they had never really liked him. Though he and his siblings had never talked much, as least they had trusted each other. It had been a hard life for all of them, but at least they’d all had each other.

  There were mornings where Chester woke up and wished he had gone back to Oklahoma after leaving the gang.

  His heart ached at the thought of never seeing them again. Life out west was as difficult as anything, but it could be made a little better with a friendly face. Maybe they needed him or maybe he needed them. He didn’t know where they were or how they were doing. He would have liked to send them a letter, but their parents had never sent them off to school to learn how to read or write. A letter would have been useless.

  “Ehm.”

  Chester blinked as he found the blacksmith standing before him from the other s
ide of the table. He had been lost in thought for too long. The tall man covered in soot with the thick mustache pointed to the table where there were several nails rolling slowly on their sides. They were just waiting to be picked up. So he scrambled to gather them, counting as he went.

  Twenty nails, just like he had asked.

  He pulled out a kerchief to wrap them up for a safe trip back home. “Thank you.” Chester nodded to Henson the blacksmith quickly before taking a step back. “I appreciate it. Have a good day.”

  There was another grunt but no more words between them.

  Chester stepped out of the forge and into the sunlight. The tension in his shoulders immediately faded. It felt like waking up from a bad dream. He sighed in relief as he tucked the nails away into a pocket for safekeeping before climbing onto his horse.