To Deborah’s consternation, her tears burst loose. Miss Abby draped an arm over her shoulders, and Deborah turned to face her friend, lifting her tear-stained face. Miss Abby stroked her hair and pulled her close.
She smelled of lavender, and after a moment, Deborah gained control of herself. She pulled away and found her handkerchief.
Miss Abby took a seat across from her. “I remember Vic said your brothers left you a jar of orange marmalade. That must have set you off.”
Deborah traced a pattern on the tablecloth listlessly and didn’t reply.
“Is there something you want to talk about?”
She bit her lip. How could Miss Abby help her with this. Before she could form an answer, the backdoor opened and Sheriff Vic came in.
“Thought I smelled fresh scones. Thanks, Abby.”
“Who said I made them for you? And for heaven’s sake, don’t take them all. I have company, if you didn’t notice.”
“Good morning, Deborah. You look like something the cat drug in that the kittens wouldn’t have.”
Abby shot her friend a frigid look. “Vic! My goodness. Don’t you see something is troubling her?”
The sheriff took a seat at the table. “Yes, and I can guess what. Man trouble. If you want my advice, Deb, stay away from all men.”
Miss Abby frowned. “Do not listen to her. Not all men are scumbags.”
She slathered a scone with butter. “Maybe not, but they all bring heartache, in one form or another.”
Abby’s red face indicated anger. “Vic! Maybe you need to go.”
Deborah held up a hand. Their banter had lifted her spirits, and she attempted a smile. “No, that’s all right. I agree with the sheriff. Love brings its share of heartaches.”
Miss Abby blinked as if tears were in her eyes. “Yes, but great joy... if you find the right one.”
Deborah’s lip trembled. “What if you find the right one, but it doesn’t work out?”
Sheriff Vic laughed. “Klint Caper flashes those big blue eyes of his, and you fall under his spell. Then along comes Chance Hale, and he’s hiding something. A little mystery in a man is always intriguing to a woman.”
Abby smiled. “That’s true enough.”
Sheriff Vic took a bite of her scone slathered with butter. “I was suspicious of Hale from the start,” she said to Abby. “He kept his hat pulled down low, as if he didn’t want to be recognized
Miss Abby prepared Deborah’s scone, as if she was a child. In the older woman’s company, she had begun to relax, although she’d twisted her handkerchief into knots.
Abby remained by her until she’d poured Deborah a cup of coffee and urged her to eat. Deborah took a bite and found the scone delicious. After Abby rubbed her palm over her back, she took a seat next to her.
As Deborah continued eating, Sheriff Vic gave a nod of approval, at her appetite, Deborah assumed. “I did some checking the past couple of days since we got home. I found out some information about Chance Hale.”
Had it only been days since they’d returned? It seemed an eternity for Deborah. She nodded. “He told me.”
The sheriff motioned at Deborah, her third scone in her hand, if Deborah had counted right. “Do you want to tell Abby or should I?”
Deborah waved her permission. She was sure she couldn’t get the words out without tears.
“Chance Hale is a war hero. He saved countless lives, getting the Union troops out of dangerous positions. And you know, you could say he saved Confederate lives if you consider that because of him and others like him, the War ended. It could have dragged on for many more months, if not years.” She took a swig of coffee before continuing. “He served under Colonel Berdan’s command as an elite Sharpshooter, and from what I understand, is highly decorated.”
Deborah’s eyes widened in surprise at this version of Chance.
Abby frowned in her direction and cleared her throat. “I don’t understand. Is Mr. Hale the one who has you in this state, Deborah?”
The sheriff laughed and answered for her. “Coming home, on the train, you should have seen them. As soon as they set eyes on each other, they were infatuated, as if Cupid shot an arrow into their hearts. But somehow, the arrow has broken. Am I right, Deb?”
Abby’s gaze traveled from the sheriff to Deborah, still frowning her puzzlement. “You mean she formed an attachment to Mr. Hale that quickly? And then he has broken her heart? In less than a week?”
Deborah’s cheeks burned, and the tablecloth again became the object of her attention.
The spoon clinked against the sheriff’s cup as she stirred in sugar, a pleasing sound. “You remember how it was with Jonathan and me. A lot can happen in a week.”
At the sheriff’s words, Deborah raised her head and found her voice. “Are you saying you were not happy with Sheriff English?”
Sheriff Vic studied the coffee in her cup. “Jonathan and I met and were married within a month. Turns out, he wasn’t what I expected.”
Deborah had never known, had always thought their marriage a happy one. She bit her bottom lip and contemplated the sheriff’s words.
Miss Abby shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I still do not understand. If you like him, and he has such an excellent background, why are you so upset, Deb?”
Deborah fortified herself with a gulp of coffee. “The sheriff is right. I was attracted to Chance, Mr. Hale, from the moment I met him. Isaac saw that and urged me to talk to him since Chance had told him some of what happened in the War ... but it was a different version than that given by Sheriff Vic. Isaac thought I needed to know, before I ... well, behaved foolishly.”
She traced a pattern on the tablecloth again. Thankfully, the ladies didn’t rush her but waited patiently for her to continue.
Not looking up, she braced herself and spoke quickly. “Something terrible happened to him. His brother was a Confederate gunner, and Chance shot him.” She firmed her lips to stop their quivering. When she glanced up, even Sheriff Vic’s eyes held tears.
Abby stroked her arm. “Poor man! What can we do to help?”
Deborah smiled at her offer but shook her head sadly. “It’s up to Chance. Until he forgives himself, there can be no future for us. I’ve considered the things he told me and can accept them, but he has to heal. I am too broken myself to help him.”
Miss Abby shook her arm. “Deborah, every resident of this town, except the newcomers, know how the name of Brokken came about.”
Embarrassment heated her cheeks. Her great grandfather would be ashamed of her. Wilhelm Brecheisen came to America from Germany and promptly got into a fight with another man, coming out on the losing end with a broken hip. So many called him Broken that the name stuck. However, her grandfather changed it a bit when he added the “K” in the middle. The K, he told his family, stood for kein, “not” in German. He declared he was not broken and never would be.
Had Deborah inherited any of her great grandfather’s strength and resiliency? Perhaps she needed time and patience with herself. The turmoil with Chance had taken a toll.
“So, help us to understand. Are you willing to allow Mr. Hale to court you?” Abby leaned back in her chair.
“I don’t know. His pain is too great.” A tear slid down her cheek.
“What does your heart say?” Abby asked.
Deborah blushed. “I want to get to know him better.”
Abby smiled. “You can do that, slowly, and maybe we can help him in some way, or help yu to help him.”
Deborah’s heart lifted, and she smiled and nodded.
The sheriff frowned. “To tell the truth, if you two plan on courting, I’m not comfortable with Mr. Hale living at the ranch, not if he is upsetting you so. We must remedy that situation.”
Deborah gasped. “Make him move? I won’t agree to that.”
Sheriff Vic grinned and lowered a hand, palm down, to calm her. “No, not him. You. Move into town, into your brothers’ house... well, it’s your house now.”
“Leave my grandparents?” She snorted. “They’d never allow me to live alone in town.”
Abby refilled her cup without Deborah asking. Her appetite returned, and she reached for another scone.
Sheriff Vic grinned at her. “If you think you can bear having me around, I could move in with you.” Her eyes searched Deborah’s, questioning.
Sheriff Vic gave her strength, just what Deborah needed. And, as an added benefit, she’d be closer to Abby, almost like the mother she’d never had. She blinked away the forming tears. “I would love that.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure you want to have her around,” Abby said. She slapped her friend’s hand away from reaching for another scone. “She’s bound to eat all your food.”
Deborah laughed. “Living in town might be best, anyway. I hired Mr. Caper to help out at the bank, and I need to keep an eye on him.”
Abby nodded. “That’s what you can tell your grandparents. They’d be sure to understand that. I’ll go with you, to speak to them, if you think it would help.”
Deborah nodded. “I’m sure it would. Thank you.”
The sheriff leaned toward her. “Let me give you another piece of advice. Hire more employees, a lady or two, at the bank. Do not work with Mr. Caper alone.”
“Why? Did you discover something in his background?”
Sheriff Vic smiled. “No, but he’s quite the ladies’ man. I wouldn’t trust that man as far as I could throw him.”
Deborah laughed. “I have hope that he’s more trustworthy with money. I gave him a key to the bank.”
“I’m sure he’s fine in that department. Did you know he was a sharpshooter also? On the Confederate side.”
Deborah shook her head. “He hasn’t mentioned it.” Perhaps that’s why Klint and Chance had drawn closer.
Sheriff Vic pushed back her chair. “Well, there’s no time like the present.”
Deborah blinked in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“If Abby does not have other plans, we’ll go to the ranch, pack you up, and get you settled in by tonight. The house is fully furnished. You only need to pack your clothes. And while you two take care of that and talk to Deborah’s grandparents, I’ll pay a visit to Mr. Hale.”
Emotions threatened to drown Deborah. All of this was happening too fast. “What will you say?” Deborah could not bear hurting Chance again.
“I will tell him he may visit tomorrow evening, if that suits you? However, I will make it clear it will be under my supervision.”
Deborah breathed a sigh of relief. “That will suit me fine.” Her heart pierced with such joy, tears came to her eyes.
Abby touched her arm. “Deborah, what’s wrong now?”
But it was Sheriff Vic who answered with a laugh. “I think Cupid shot another arrow. Maybe this one won’t break.”
Epilogue
Chance borrowed a horse from Mr. Isaac, and they rode out to check the cattle. Although the herd was small, the potential was there. They discussed which cows to cull to strengthen the bloodline. Mr. Isaac understood cattle better than Chance did, and he listened attentively to the older man’s words.
A cloud of dust from the south indicated another rider’s approach. Worry lines appeared across Mr. Isaac’s forehead. “Ride out and meet whoever that is,” he told Chance.
He needed no urging. Fear something had happened to Deborah propelled him into the saddle and on his way, almost before Mr. Isaac had finished speaking.
It was the sheriff, reinforcing Chance’s fear. But the planes of her face were smooth, calming him. Chance greeted her and waited for her to speak.
Her first words surprised him. “Take off your hat.”
Puzzled, he did as he was told. She continued surveying him. He blinked. “Did you want me to take a message to Mr. Isaac?”
“No, it’s you I wish to speak to.” She adjusted her seating and looked into the distance. “I’ve spoken to Deborah this morning, and some decisions have been made.”
His heart sank. This was Preacher Grisson’s daughter. He’d convinced her, just as he had Wanda, that his actions in the war were unforgivable. He didn’t answer but twisted his hat around and around and waited for her to continue.
“Deborah owns a house in Brokken, and she’s moving there as we speak.”
Tears burned the back of his eyes. She wanted to get as far away from him as possible and who could blame her? He nodded his defeat. “I’ll pack and leave. There’s no need for Miss Brokken to move away, to get farther away from me. I’m the one who needs to go.”
The sheriff snorted. “No, you foolish man. Deborah is moving to the house in Brokken at my suggestion. I’m moving in with her for a while and will supervise the courting.”
“The courting? With me?” If they’d not been sitting on their horses, he might have hugged the woman.
The sheriff laughed. “Be at the Brokken house in town at precisely eight tomorrow night. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She reined her horse, as if to ride away.
He stretched out an arm to stop her. “Just one question.”
“What?” she asked, impatience in her voice.
“Why did you want me to remove my hat?”
The muscles in her face twitched, as if she struggled for words. She finally spoke. “You need to let the world see who you are, a War hero, not someone who needs to hide.” She chuckled. “Put it back on now. The sun gets pretty hot in Texas, even in March.”
As he rode back toward Mr. Isaac, forgetting to bid her good day, she sniggered and called after him. “And your eyes are too pretty to keep hidden.”
KLINT HAD NOT BEEN happy to hear Chance would be visiting Deborah but had finally accepted it and more—he let Chance borrow his best suit. Mr. Isaac told him to take the buggy instead of walking.
The Brokken house in town was even more impressive than the one on the ranch. He stood on the porch and hesitated. Was this the right thing or would it only lead to more heartache?
But he couldn’t leave now when he’d found himself here, a poor farm boy from Missouri, about to knock on the door of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
The door swung open and Deborah smiled, lighting his insides with fire. “Aren’t you going to come in, Mr. Hale?”
She reached out her hand, and he gladly allowed himself to be pulled through the doorway. When their fingers intertwined, she moved closer, and her soft lips yielded to his.
“Deborah Brokken!” Sheriff Vic’s voice rang out. She sighed heavily. “This is going to be more difficult than I thought.”
Even with the sheriff glaring at him, it took a moment for Chance to release Deborah. Their fingers remained intertwined, and the way Deborah gripped him, Chance knew she was never letting go.
THIS IS THE THIRD BOOK of the Brokken Road Romances. Thanks so much for reading.
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Brokken Rising by P. Creeden is available.
Don’t forget the prequel, This Brokken Road and Brokken Knight by Lynda Cox.
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About the Author
Abagail Eldan is the pen name of Sheila Hollinghead. She lives in South Alabama with her husband, five dogs and two cats, near where her ancestors scratched a living from the ground. You can connect with Sheila at the following links:
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http://www.sheilahollinghead.com/
https://www.facebook.com/brokkenroad/
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https://www.amazon.com/Abagail-Eldan/e/B079DW1SQR
https://www.amazon.com/Sheila-Hollinghead/e/B006TWV908
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