by Joyce Alec
But the rest of Anne’s words were drowned out by a harsh banging on the front door.
All three of them jumped, their spoons and knives clattering onto their plates.
Anne clutched at her racing heart, and Tessa’s eyes were wide.
“Let me go see who that is,” Perry said, rather disgruntled. He rose from his seat and stepped out into the hall.
“Rather rude to call at such an hour,” Tessa said, picking up her spoon once more.
Anne’s ears strained, trying to catch any words that might be spoken in the hall. In the weeks she had been there, she had never heard anyone stop by the ranch at this hour. Who would have reason to?
“I’m sorry, but I cannot help you,” she heard Perry say, his voice firm and loud. “Now please, allow my family and I to return to our business.”
“Get outta my way!”
Anne positively froze, and her heart stopped.
No…it couldn’t be.
“Anne?” Tessa asked, staring concernedly at her. “Anne, are you all right? You are as pale as a ghost!”
Anne felt as if she couldn’t breathe, as she leapt up from the table and into the hall.
Just over Perry’s shoulder, she could see a man standing just outside the front door. He had a wide girth and greying hair. His teeth were clenched, his eyes bloodshot and beady. He was a wolf, ready to strike at a helpless lamb.
Anne’s heart sank.
No…
“I heard from some of the fellas at the saloon that you have got my wife held against her will in here! Said they’ve seen her walking around your farm!”
“Get out of here, you drunken old fool,” Perry spat, as he tried to close the door.
The man shoved his foot in the door just before it closed. He grasped it with his thick hands and shoved with all his might, while crying into the darkness.
“Give me back my wife! I demand you give her back to me, right this instant! Or I will break this door down and drag her out of here myself!”
6
“Frank,” Anne whispered darkly.
Her hands, balled into fists, trembled at her side. It took all of her strength not to throw herself down the hall and at the man behind the door. It took all of her strength not to wrap her own hands around his thick throat and throttle him until he stopped breathing.
Perry must have sensed her unease because he held his arm out to stop her, turning to look at her, shaking his head, warning her not to come any closer.
Anne did genuinely worry that Frank could tear the door down. He certainly was capable of doing great damage if he was angry enough.
“You are not welcome here,” Perry said coldly, and with one mighty shove, he slammed the door shut, latching it.
“He’s not going to leave,” Anne said, staring at the door as if it were suddenly made from paper and would rip apart at any moment.
The sound of Frank’s body slamming against it made Anne feel nauseous.
Perry shook his head. “No, he won’t. So we need to make him leave.”
He walked passed her and into the living room.
Tessa appeared in the kitchen doorframe.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, all of her usual pep gone.
“That awful man is here, looking for me,” Anne said, hot, angry tears welling up in her eyes and splashing onto her cheeks. “He found me at last.”
Tessa crossed down the hall to Anne and wrapped her arms around her, drawing her further away from the door.
Perry reappeared, his hunting rifle in his hands.
Anne’s heart nearly burst with fear. She reached out to grab him.
Frank continued to slam the full weight of his body against the door.
“No, Perry! You can’t shoot him!”
“I am not going to kill him,” Perry replied. “But if he tries to lay a finger on you, don’t doubt I won’t hurt him.”
Anne’s hand fell as Perry made his way back over to the door.
Perry unlatched the door, threw it open, and jumped back, pointing his rifle at the man just beyond it.
Frank charged in, but stopped only a few steps over the threshold, finding the barrel of the gun less than a few feet from his face.
“Now…you listen to me,” Perry spat, the hands on his gun steady and sure. “You are going to leave…right now…and never come back here. Do you understand?” His voice was just as steady as his grip.
“You have no right to take my wife from me,” Frank said, spitting on the floor at his feet. “I’ve been searching for her for weeks, and come to find that she was here? One of your rancher’s squealed, because I knew exactly whom he was talking about when he described his ranch owner’s new plaything.”
He growled, low in his throat, the color high in his cheeks.
“Now…give me back my wife!”
He lifted a finger into the air and pointed it at Anne, who trembled behind Perry.
“No!” Anne shrieked, stepping out beside Perry, hoping the hatred in her eyes was clear. “I never married you. You are a despicable man! You have no claim to me!”
“I do when I have written agreements that said you would marry me,” Frank said in a low, cold voice, pulling crumpled letters from his pocket. “I have your word that you would be my wife.”
Perry shifted his hand on his gun, obviously reminding Frank that he was there. Frank gave the gun a nervous glance.
“It means nothing if she didn’t go through with it,” Perry said.
Frank’s eyes flashed dangerously.
“No man has any right to interfere with another man’s business, especially when it comes to his wife.”
“And no man should ever strike the woman he is meant to marry!” Perry retorted heatedly. “There are no grounds for such violence!”
“I will do as I please!” Frank yelled, turning as red as a beet.
A distinct clack sounded, as Perry cocked the rifle, readying it to shoot.
That quieted Frank.
“Anne is my wife,” Perry said. “I am going to give you one more chance, you filthy dog. Get off my property. You are trespassing, and I will shoot you.”
Anne is my wife. Why did he say that?! Anne wondered wildly.
Frank looked murderous, as he glanced back and forth between Anne and Perry. But what could he do with a gun pointed at his face?
“This isn’t the last that you’ll hear from me…” Frank snarled, but he turned and slowly started making his way down the path toward the road.
“We’ll see about that…” Perry mumbled, not taking his eyes off Frank’s back.
Perry kept the rifle pointed at him until he was out of sight, and then he lowered it, closing the door behind them.
He unloaded his rifle, latched the door, and then turned to face Anne.
“Are you all right?” he asked gently. “I imagine you must be terrified right now.”
Anne didn’t know what to say, or think, or feel. She could only stand there, staring up at Perry.
“Come along, dear,” Tessa said softly, and she gently steered Anne away from the front door and into the kitchen.
Anne found herself sitting in her chair once more, most of her dinner untouched.
Perry resumed his seat, as did Tessa.
No one said anything for some time.
“I am sorry, Anne,” Perry said. “Whoever it was that told him, I will certainly make sure that I have a word with them and decide if they should even keep their job here on the ranch.”
“It isn’t their fault,” Anne said, and her voice was distant, as if someone else was speaking with it. “How could they know that someone asking about the ranch was a vicious, vile man, intent on tracking me down?”
Perry’s face was very pale, and he too didn’t seem to have an appetite any longer.
“Why did he even bother looking for you?” Tessa asked, shaking her head. “You’ve been gone for weeks now, correct? In fact, it has almost been a month. I can’t imagine he has been
looking for you that whole time.”
“I suppose it was mostly for revenge,” Perry said quietly. “He believed himself to be right and that Anne had no grounds for leaving him. Men like that thrive on what little power they possess, and when they have nothing to control, well…they do whatever they can to get it back.”
Anne was disgusted. “It’s as if he thought of me as nothing more than an object.”
“That’s exactly it,” Perry said sadly. “You were nothing more than that to him.”
Tessa shook her head sadly. “How terrible this all is…”
“And now he knows where I live…” Anne said, her heart sinking still further.
Perry perked up ever so slightly at this. “Certainly, but I intend to go into town first thing in the morning and report his actions to the sheriff.”
Anne was flooded with hope. “You…you will?”
“Of course,” Perry said. “He is a dangerous man. And he appeared on my property, threatening me and my household, so that is grounds for being thrown in jail.” A wry smile crept onto his face. “Not only that, but the sheriff will likely be disappointed that I didn’t shoot him in the first place.”
Anne shuddered. “I understand the anger. I know better than anyone. But Perry…I would not want you to take the life of another man just to protect me.”
Perry looked at her very intently. “Anne, I would do anything in the world to keep you safe. It would have been the right thing to do, and I was prepared to pull the trigger if I needed to do it.”
Anne was both relieved and comforted by that. Not by the fact that Perry was ready to kill another man, but by his desire to keep her safe.
“I’m glad it didn’t come to that,” Anne said. “Even though he deserves it, I don’t think that we would have been able to live with the consequences of that choice.”
“I agree,” Perry said. “But I will make sure he is unable to come anywhere near you ever again.”
Tessa sighed heavily.
“What an exciting visit this has been for you,” Perry said, giving Tessa a small, sympathetic smile.
She shrugged. “It certainly has been!” She gave Anne a small smile. “Perry…did I hear you right? When you were asking Frank to leave…did you tell him that Anne was your wife?”
Perry looked at Anne, wide eyed. Maybe he had hoped that she wouldn’t have heard him.
“I…I,” he began, looking down at his hands in his lap. “I did. And I told him that partially to scare him off.” He looked sheepishly up at her. “And partially because I am hoping that it could one day be the truth.”
Anne’s heart did a flip.
Tessa beamed. “Oh, Anne! I told you! I told you that all of these things were pointing to him caring for you!”
Perry looked at Tessa. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, come now,” Tessa said, waving her hand dismissively. “It is obvious to everyone around you that you care for Anne. Me, Mrs. Adams. Even Anne here knows it, though she was reluctant to say so.”
Perry looked at Anne.
She looked at him.
Tessa winked at Anne. “I should give you two a few minutes to talk. No rush. I will just find a nice book to read in the other room.”
The tick, tock of the clock and the fire crackling in the hearth were the only sounds in the room.
“Did you…did you know?” Perry asked hesitantly.
Anne looked up at him. “I…wasn’t sure,” she said. “I didn’t want to assume anything. I thought you were just being so kind and generous…I wanted to believe that it was true, but it seemed too good to be true.”
Perry smiled. “I do care about you, Anne.”
Anne’s heart raced. Could he really be saying these things?
“I was startled by you when you first arrived, and after hearing your story, I was concerned for you. Concern turned to care very quickly, and I found myself thinking of you, how to best protect you. And in those thoughts, there was a desire to know more about you, to understand your heart. Those feelings progressed into an affection for you, and a longing to keep you close.”
He trailed off, looking down at the table.
“I worried that if I said anything, it would frighten you. I saw the look in your eyes when you told me about Frank, and also when you saw him tonight. I worried that that wretched man had ruined your desire to ever be married, so I thought it would be best to keep you close while I decided what I should do. I was nervous when I heard you talking to Mrs. Adams about leaving, so that was when I offered you the job here in the house.”
Anne hung onto his every word. She wanted to hear it all, to know it to be true.
“When you agreed to stay, I had to decide what to do. I didn’t want you to think me too hasty when you were still recovering from what happened with that man. I didn’t want you to be afraid of me either. Or feel as if I forced myself upon you. I…never found the right time to say anything, I suppose.”
Anne’s face split into a wide smile. “I was never afraid of marriage, you know. You have always made me feel so safe here. You are the sort of man that I wished I had found in the first place. A gentle, humorous, strong man, who would be able to protect me. And when I found you, I thought it was too good to be true.”
“I thought the same when I met you…I thought, who is this lovely angel who has fallen asleep in my barn? Surely, she is fit for a palace with gold and jewels and fine dresses.”
She ducked her head. “I never did thank you properly for those dresses,” she said quietly.
For a few moments, they just looked into one another’s eyes, the happiness they felt in their hearts melding into one.
“What happens from here?” Anne asked breathlessly.
“The only thing that can,” Perry said.
He rose from the table and walked around it. He kneeled down beside her chair and gingerly took her hands in his own.
“Anne Welsh…you came to me on a morning that I will never forget. You were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and I was certain that I was caught in a dream. And then, as you told me your story, I knew that I had to jump in to help. I knew that I would do anything in the world to keep you safe…”
She felt her eyes watering with tears.
“As I grew to know you, and your heart, I knew that I wanted to keep you around. You are a fascinating woman, and you are so strong and have experienced so much…I wanted to make it my mission to ensure that you were happy for the rest of your life.”
He smiled at her, his own eyes filling with tears, and he squeezed her hands in his own.
“I have fallen madly, deeply in love with you, Anne. And it would make me the happiest man in the world…if you would be my wife.”
Anne pulled her arms free and threw them around his neck, collapsing onto the floor with him, crying hysterically into his shoulder.
She was certain that she had never been so happy in her life.
“It’s about time!” came Tessa’s voice from around the corner. “I am terribly sorry, but I couldn’t resist listening in on that conversation! Oh, congratulations! I am so happy for you both!”
And so, the three of them spent the rest of the evening celebrating a life and a future filled with happiness, love, and no sign of Frank.
THE END
Part III
A Heart’s Westward Journey
By Eleanor Swan
1
Pennsylvania, 1872
It was a rather gloomy day in Philadelphia. Late April, and the rains were as cold as they were fierce. For days, it pounded against the windows with such ferocity that those who heard it feared to step out into it. The world became quiet as it waited for the storm to subside.
Rose Samson rather liked the rain. She found comfort in the solitary time it brought. No one would disturb her. Not that they often would anyway. Even for meals, the servants would comply and bring the food to her room, so she could eat in peace. On days like that, she used every excuse to remain alon
e.
It was also the sort of day for reading. Rose had shelves upon shelves of great tomes, filled to the brim with classics and poetry, fiction and history, romance and mystery. She loved her books dearly, for she believed that she belonged in those worlds, and not her own. She was never happy to live her own life. She would much rather live the lives of others.
As she finished a story that she had read a thousand times, she regretfully laid the book down on her side table, rose to her feet, and crossed to the window.
The clouds were so dark and thick overhead it was as if it were night. The soothing, repetitive sound of the rain rapping on the glass filled the room, and the distant rumbles of thunder drew her eye out into the surrounding town.
But she could see very little, aside from her own reflection.
She was a taller woman that most, with narrow shoulders, a broad smile, and a pointed chin. Her hair was nothing special, the same color as the dirt on the ground, and her eyes no clearer than a murky lake. She never felt that she was much to behold, and that was perhaps why, at twenty-three, she was still unmarried.
She shook her hair, her long, flowing locks gliding across the top of her back. It would do no good to dwell on the stories she read, of valor and chivalry, of romance and heartbreak. Those were not her life. She must never forget that.
Sighing, she returned to her shelf, sliding the book back into its proper home.
What if she were to dream of a life like in her stories? What if she could escape the mundane world in which she lived, for something more adventurous? Something…different?
Her heart began to beat faster as she trailed her fingers along the spines of all her wonderful books. Something like that was possible, surely. There may have been those who would doubt, those who would mock her and scold her. Surely there must be a way where she could live a different life?
Because a life locked in her small room with nothing but the rain for company would be a life poorly lived.
But how? What must she do to accomplish such a feat? Were such things even possible?
