A Bride’s Unyielding Heart: A Historical Western Romance Novel

by Etta Foster

  You guys have it good. You don't spend all day worrying about the trivialities of life. You just run when you want to, eat when you want to, and sleep when you want. I wish I could say I was sleeping well, but my mind is so preoccupied with thoughts of everything that’s going on I just can't seem to get a good night's rest.

  In truth, his mind had been on Jessica a lot more often. Despite his earlier promise to spend more time with her, they still had not done any of the things he had promised. He hadn't shown her how to ride a horse yet, which he felt immensely guilty about, especially because she had been so excited when he first mentioned teaching her to ride.

  He was going to have to make it up to her somehow. Maybe he could pick her some wildflowers from the field nearby and give them to her as a bouquet. It might not be much, but surely the gesture wouldn't go unappreciated.

  She deserved some kind of reward for putting up with Jude and Claudia for this long. She had told him about their comments to her the first night they got here, and he knew she was probably still upset about that. Why did people have to put so much importance on how two people met? If he had randomly met her at a cattle auction or in the saloon, no one would have batted an eye. Where did Jude get off thinking he could talk to her like that?

  The rumble of thunder in the distance caused Gavin to look up. He was not surprised to find Harland making his way toward him, his friend wearing his usual look of concern on his face. “Gavin, you look like hell.”

  “That's fair. Hell is what I feel like right now, so I'll let that comment slide. What do you need?” Gavin asked, leaning against the nearby corral fence. “Did you come to tell me that dinner is ready?”

  “I need you to ease up on your workload. You walk around the place looking like you’re half-dead at times, and your mother is starting to worry about you. She says that you look like you could fall over at any time, and I don't think I’m the only one to notice those dark circles under your eyes,” Harland added, pointing accusingly at Gavin. “You’re working yourself to death.”

  “I have everything under control, Harland. I may seem like I've been going full force, but I've got a system going. If I ever get too tired, I make myself take a break. Besides, I'm just about done out here for the day. The only thing left for me to do is make my way back toward the house after I check for any stragglers. You can come with me if you'd like,” Gavin said, walking over to where his horse was tethered and giving it a gentle pat on the side before mounting it. “I'm sorry, Harland. I don't want to burden you with my problems, even if I know you'd be more than happy to try and help. You've always been the kind of person to put others above yourself, and you've gotten yourself into trouble more than a few times because of it.”

  “Sounds good to me. Someone is going to have to keep an eye out for you,” Harland teased, gently pressing his feet into his horse's sides to move it forward. “It looks like it’s going to be one hell of a storm.”

  Gavin's mind briefly flashed back to when he was ten years old. He and his father had been out on a roundup when they'd been caught in an unexpected storm. The cold rain that had pelted them that night had almost felt like hail, and the icy wind that tugged and yanked their clothing felt like the grip of spirits.

  “Get close to the tree, Gavin!” his father had shouted, spurring the ten-year-old Gavin to spring immediately into motion. They had clung tightly to the tree and watched as a mudslide tore past them toward their old grazing spot. They had managed to get most of the herd to higher ground, but the fifty or so remaining stragglers were quickly swept away.

  “Pop, the cows!” Gavin cried, the horrible bellowing of the animals as they were swept away resonating in his ears. The howling of the wind was wailing through his very being, the cacophony of noises threatening to overwhelm him entirely.

  “I know, son. Don't look!” his father had shouted, his hand moving to turn Gavin toward him. He hugged Gavin tightly, allowing the young boy to cry into his chest. “It's alright, boy. We’re alive. That's what matters. But from now on, we stay away from this area. Don't ever bring the cows here again. I'll be sure to remember as well.”

  “Hey, Gavin, you’re looking awfully pale all of a sudden,” Harland remarked, moving his horse closer to Gavin's and peering at his friend closely. His voice broke Gavin out of his memory and brought him back to the present. He stared blankly at Harland for a moment before he remembered where he was and what he was doing.

  “Those clouds give me a bad feeling, Harland,” Gavin said softly, looking over at where he could see lightning streak across the surface of one of the purple clouds. “A real bad feeling.”

  “That makes two of us, Gavin. They look like God is winding up for a big one, and I don't think I want to be out here when it comes,” Harland replied.

  “All the more reason why I intend to be in the comfort and safety of the house by then,” Gavin said, shielding his eyes as he gazed across the fields. Those clouds had started to quickly move in and the sun that had been a consistent burden was now being completely blocked by the thick, purple clouds. “You don't think we'll get a twister, do you?”

  “Not if the Lord is good,” Harland replied, biting his bottom lip gently. “I don't think we would be able to deal with a disaster that large. We had a hard time dealing with that mudslide a few years ago. We were lucky to only lose a couple of our cows, and who knows if our luck will continue to favor us.”

  “I definitely agree. However, we haven't had a tornado come anywhere near us in the twenty years we've lived here, so maybe our luck will keep holding out. Fingers crossed,” Gavin added, urging his own horse forward in a trot.

  “What's that over there?” Harland asked, pointing north. Gavin had to strain his eyes to see what his friend was referring to, but it became obvious as he caught a glimpse of a young calf. The creature was letting out weak little moos, looking around with uncertainty. It was probably searching for its mother. “Looks like a calf managed to escape one of the pens.”

  “Great,” Gavin replied sarcastically. “Just what I need right now. Do you have a spare lasso with you?”

  Harland handed over the length of rope wordlessly, watching as Gavin began to twirl the rope above his head while his horse slowly advanced. He didn't want to spook the creature for fear of it running off, so he was sure to take his time. Lassoing was a skill his father had instilled in him ever since he was a young boy. He remembered spending time every day as a boy practicing, first on furniture, then on actual animals as his skill improved.

  That all feels like it happened ages ago. I can barely remember a time when Pop wasn't sick. These last five years have felt like ten, and I feel like I've aged twice that much. I'm surprised Jessica hasn't been put off by my reserved nature. She's a special girl.

  The smell of the storm was growing stronger, the telltale chill that accompanied rain slowly starting to settle onto the land. Gavin shivered as a cool breeze gusted past him. It felt good on his sweat-soaked skin, albeit causing a shiver to run up his spine from the sudden temperature change. We don't have much time till it hits.

  Tossing the lasso toward the calf, Gavin overshot by mere inches. The rope sailed over the oblivious creature's head, falling with a soft thud to the ground. Letting out a curse under his breath, Gavin started to pull the rope back toward him for another try. His face was burning with embarrassment from having missed; he was usually one of the best in terms of lassoing. It was just a testament to how exhausted he was.

  “Careful now,” Harland muttered beside him, pulling another rope from his saddlebag. “Do you need me to get him, Gavin?”

  “No, Harland. I can do it myself,” Gavin snapped impatiently, his horse inching forward as he prepared to toss the rope again. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he twirled the lasso in the air, his tongue pressing against the back of his teeth in concentration.

  Tossing the lasso through the air, it seemed to move in slow motion until it looped around the neck of the calf. Gavin pulled it ti
ght, grinning despite himself and turning to Harland to make a cheeky comment about him doubting his skill.

  Tugging on the lasso with vigor, his left hand slackened slightly. He reached with his hand on the reins to get a two-handed grip on the lasso, attempting to tie it to the horn of his saddle.

  Everything that happened next seemed to happen in slow motion. A loud crack of thunder, like the booming of a cannon, sounded above them without warning. The reactions it caused were instantaneous.

  Gavin's horse immediately whinnied in fear and reared up onto its hind legs. Because he'd been focused on the lasso, Gavin was only maintaining a loose grip on the horse's reins. The horse's rough lashing of its head from side to side was more than enough to yank them right out of Gavin's hand.

  With nothing to hold onto and the force of gravity working against him, Gavin could do nothing but cry out as he fell toward the ground. He caught a brief glimpse of a sizeable rock right before the side of his head smacked against it.

  He felt a sharp sting of pain and something warm flowing down the side of his head. He didn't have time to wonder what it was, and his vision started to fade as his eyes closed.

  Right before he lost consciousness, he was vaguely aware of Harland shouting his name. The sound of his voice seemed distant and distorted, like he was listening to it from underwater. He was sinking into a deep sleep…

  Chapter 16

  “Oh, rats,” Coralee mumbled, sucking on her finger where the needle had just pricked her. This was the fifth time in the last hour that had happened, and she was beginning to grow a little frustrated.

  “Easy now, dear. You can't be in a hurry, that's what gets you pricked. You need to do it like me,” Viola said, demonstrating with her own needles and yarn. She would slowly manipulate the yarn using the two needles, her own hands staying relatively far away from the pointed tip of the needles.

  “You make it look so easy, Viola,” Coralee sighed, setting her needles to the side as she pouted.

  “I've been doing it for a long while, so I've had lots of practice. You won't get any better if you never do it. That's as true as anything you'll ever hear,” Viola replied cheerfully, looking at Coralee with great affection. “I'll crochet a hat for you for Christmas, if you like.”

  “You don't have to go to the trouble of doing something like that,” Coralee replied hurriedly, waving her hands in front of her. “That seems like it would be a lot of unnecessary effort.”

  “I don't think it’s any trouble at all. In fact, I would be quite sad if you were to turn it down. I love sitting down and spending time on crocheting projects; they’re a fun and easy way to spend the day. I just sit in my chair and get lost in the process. It's a great thing for when you've just got too much on your mind.”

  “Are you sure? I don't want to make extra work for you,” Coralee replied gently, resting her hand on Viola's arm and giving it a gentle squeeze.

  “I'm telling you, Jessica. I don't consider it work, and I don't think it’s any trouble. Lord above, if I didn't know any better, I would think that you hadn't received a gift in your entire life,” Viola joked, her smile fading once she saw the look on Coralee's face. “You have received gifts before, right?”

  “Not many,” Coralee admitted. “My father wasn't around much, so I spent most of my time with my mother. When she passed away, my father was indisposed for the longest time. I hear he paid for a big funeral for her, but I don't remember the events of that day at all. Too much time must have passed,” she added, hoping that Viola wouldn't try to pursue the topic any further.

  The front door slammed open, causing both Coralee and Viola to shout out and drop their crocheting projects. Harland was standing framed in the doorway, Gavin's arm draped over his shoulder. Viola immediately rose to her feet, her eyes wide.

  “Harland, what's wrong with Gavin?” Coralee asked, rushing over and gently cupping Gavin's face with her hand. She withdrew it immediately upon feeling something warm on her hand, gasping as she saw the blood that was slowly dripping down his face.

  “He was trying to lasso a loose calf when a crack of thunder caused his horse to buck him off. I think he hit his head on a rock when he landed. I rushed him back here as quickly as I could. I'm going to need you ladies to look after him while I ride into town to get a doctor,” Harland spoke quickly as he moved, grunting as he started to slowly make his way towards the stairs.

  Coralee cast a glance at Viola, the two nodding silently before following Harland. Coralee rushed to the hall closet and grabbed a dish cloth, stopping in the kitchen to boil some hot water. She poured it in a bowl when it was ready and made her way upstairs quickly but cautiously, trying her best not to spill any water as she went.

  She found Viola sitting next to the bed, her eyes puffy and red from crying. Coralee gently sat next to her and dipped the washcloth into the warm water, wringing it free of excess moisture before getting to work.

  She started by gently wiping the blood away. Harland had already left, and Isaac was now sitting on the opposite side of the bed from them. His gaze seemed distant as he gazed down at Gavin, unspeakable sadness etched clearly on his face.

  “Don't worry, Gavin's going to be fine.” Coralee did her best to sound convincing, even though she was panicking on the inside. He looked so peaceful as he lay there, though his mouth was firmly fixed in a frown.

  Coralee reached out and gently stroked over Gavin's forehead, feeling the deep frown lines that ran across it. I wonder what he is dreaming about. It may be bad of me to say, but at least now he will be forced to rest. I've seen how hard he's been working, and no normal person could keep that up for long.

  Time dragged by horrifically slowly, with barely a word said between them. Isaac and Viola were speaking quietly together as Coralee made her way down to the kitchen to refresh the water, as the bowl was now filled with bloody water.

  Her hands shook as she stood in front of the kettle, gazing distractedly into the water. Her reflection looked haggard and distraught, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

  What is with this cloud of bad luck that seems to be hanging over me? First his horse gets poisoned shortly after I arrive, now he's been thrown from his horse. Am I jinxing him? Is this all somehow my fault?

  She was being foolish. Accidents happened all the time, and she couldn't possibly be responsible for them. She drummed her fingers on the countertop as she waited for the water to boil, biting her bottom lip. I hope Harland gets back with the doctor soon.

  Heading back upstairs with fresh water, she entered Gavin’s room to discover the doctor had arrived. “Tell it to us straight, Doctor. How is he doing?” Isaac asked softly.

  “I'm afraid your son is suffering from a severe case of exhaustion. Has he been doing excessive work out in the heat this past week?” The doctor was sitting next to the bed, his medical bag sitting open next to him as he worked. “Judging from his blood sample, he's also rather dehydrated. Falling from his horse and hitting his head has likely given him a concussion as well.”

  “Dear God,” Viola sobbed, blowing her nose into the handkerchief that was clutched in her white knuckled grip. “My poor baby boy.”

  “There’s no need to get upset, Mrs. Woodworth. The solution is simple. We’ll need to get him to drink some water, and he needs to rest. I recommend he stay in bed for at least the next week. We'll need to keep an eye on him to make sure that no damage has been done to his brain. Worst case scenario is he might have mild damage,” he added, clasping his medicine bag closed.

  “Thank you, Doctor. I can't thank you enough for rushing out here even with the storm on the way. Would you care to stay the night? We can prepare a room for you to use,” Viola offered, looking over at Coralee. It went unsaid that she would be offering up her room that night should the doctor accept.

  “Oh, no thank you. My wife will be expecting me home, and I won't tell you how many times she's given me an earful for being out all night without telling her. Sometimes I don't t
hink she understands just how seriously I take my work,” he replied, nodding in Isaac's direction. “May I talk to you in private about my fee, Mr. Woodworth.”

  “Absolutely,” Isaac replied immediately, rising shakily from his chair. “Let's go talk in the hallway. We'll leave the women folk to look after Gavin.”

  “I'll look after Gavin tonight,” Coralee said, reaching over to give Viola's hand a gentle squeeze.

  “Bless you, Jessica,” Viola replied gently, returning the squeeze. “Are you sure you don't want us to take turns? You'll be exhausted by the morning.”

  “I'll be alright,” Coralee smiled, turning her head to gaze over at Gavin. “It will be some time we'll get to spend together.”

  “I'm sure this isn't the way you would have wanted it to happen, but maybe it will be a blessing in disguise. With the doctor ordering him to bed rest, he can focus on your marriage. It is strange that you've already been here a month and he hasn't mentioned anything else about it to us. Has he said anything more to you?” Viola asked, her eyes narrowing with playful suspicion.