His Forgotten Fiancée

by Evelyn M. Hill

  “You thought I needed a kitten?”

  “He can catch mice for you.”

  She looked doubtfully down at the little kitten, still trying to climb her dress, and then back up at Matthew.

  “Eventually,” he amended. His tone was nonchalant, and he kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead, but she could see his ears were turning a bit red.

  She scratched the kitten under the chin and then moved up to behind the ears. The little animal closed his eyes and purred loudly. She had to smile. “Thank you.”

  Once across the river, they rode in silence as the trail wound its way through a forest of big-leaf maples and bitter cottonwood trees. Occasionally they would pass a clearing with a log cabin surrounded by fields of buckwheat or corn or rye. Most of the settlers in this area were already at work harvesting their crops, the men scything the grain while the women bundled the sheaves into shocks to dry. Children ran to and fro carrying water to the adults sweating in the hot sun.

  After a few miles, the road narrowed to nothing more than a deeply rutted trail beside a creek that wound its way into the thickly forested hills. Trees arched overhead, and encroaching branches reached out on either side. She had to duck under one that tried to snag her bonnet.

  She was extremely conscious of every breath taken by the silent man next to her. They were forced to sit so close together on the bench that his coat sleeve brushed against her shawl. Thankfully, keeping ahold of the restless kitten gave her something to do with her hands.

  They had never simply sat like this before, just the two of them alone. When they sat together, it had been with the others around the campfire. On the trail, they had walked side by side through the grasslands and the badlands, talking about what their future would be like in Oregon. They were going to have six children. She’d picked out their names. He had laughed and said he’d better keep practicing law as well as working the land. It had seemed so simple back then. Anything was possible; everything she’d dreamed of was within reach.

  When they had fallen in love, she had thought they would spend the rest of their lives together. But Mavis had been right; that had been a fairy-tale romance. Now it was daylight.

  All this past year, she had nursed a secret hope that Matthew would come back to her. Even as he stayed away and stayed away, and no word came, she’d kept the dream alive by picturing him returning, coming in the door and sweeping her off her feet and solving all her problems. Mr. Brown would cower before him, her father would cheer up—everything would be wonderful.

  Reality was like cold water thrown in her face.

  He handled the horse competently, with minimum fuss, until the road forked. One track continued on straight, while the other turned left over a bridge that crossed the stream. He stopped the wagon. “Is it really so difficult to provide signposts? Which way?”

  Wry amusement lightened her mood a trifle. The man needed to be taught a lesson in the perils of being overprotective. “Folks round here know where they are and where they want to be. If you don’t know where you’re going, then it makes no sense for you to be doing the driving.”

  His thick eyebrows drew together, a crease forming between them. “Which way?”

  She leaned forward to rescue the kitten, who was batting at the loose reins as they dangled from Matthew’s fingers. Then she sat back. “I never thought to ask about your ancestry,” she said sweetly. “I’m guessing half man, half mule.”

  He heaved a sigh, then dropped the reins and gently gathered up the kitten out of her hands. “Fine. You drive, I’ll scritch.”

  She picked up the reins and clucked to the horse, who moved forward across the bridge. The wheels rolling across the half logs created a hollow sound, like the rumble of distant thunder. “You’re awfully stubborn about taking charge of things, considering you aren’t planning on staying long.” She couldn’t let it go; she had to keep picking at the topic like a scab over a wound that wouldn’t heal.

  He gave her a sidelong look. “I do not mean to imply that you are not able to drive. But women should not have to fend for themselves.”

  “Maybe more than half mule.”

  “Surely you acquainted yourself with my defects before agreeing to marry?”

  She tried to make her voice sound light and indifferent. “I must have been blinded by love.”

  “How romantic.” From his tone, nothing could be more unappealing. He buttoned the kitten into his jacket. She could hear a contented purring start up inside. At least one of them was happy.

  The trail began to wind up a low ridge. Fir trees began to replace the maples and cottonwoods. Liza pointed out the ridge on the west. “On the other side of that ridge is the Baron’s land. He hauls his logs down to the river and sends them to his lumber mills in Portland. If he bought the claim from Pa, he’d have a faster route to the river. That’s why Mr. Brown keeps pestering us about selling the claim.”

  Matthew frowned. “How is Mr. Brown involved?”

  “He works for the Baron.” Liza shrugged. “He wants to keep his boss happy.”

  “The way he looks at you, that’s nothing to do with business,” Matthew said darkly.

  They came over the brow of the hill and began the gradual descent to her own little valley. She could feel the tension ease out of her muscles like an invisible tide receding, leaving peace in its wake. She was home.

  They had arrived at the most beautiful time of the day. The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees, its slanted rays turning the grain in the fields to a sea of gold. The wheat was just ripe enough to harvest. In the pasture, the few cows they possessed cropped the grass peacefully, while chickens scratched outside the newly constructed barn.

  It gave her a warm feeling every time she came home and caught sight of the cabin through the trees. One day, they’d have money to put glass in the windows instead of oiled paper. The setting sun would reflect light off the windows. She could picture it, the cabin turning into a gracious home, the grasslands becoming cultivated fields, the vast potential that lay untapped in this beautiful land being realized.

  This was where she had planned to put down roots, raise a family. Oh, Lord, please let him love this place as I do. Even if he were leaving, she wanted that. Then it would be as if he loved her still, just a little.

  Putting off this moment was not going to make it any easier to say what she had to tell him. He had been very clear that he was going to leave At least this time, he was honest about not staying. Well, then, she would be equally plainspoken with him. She had grown stronger in this year without him. If he did not want to be with her, she would survive. She would not let him break her heart again.

  She stopped the wagon. The horse shook its head and let out its breath in a sigh, no doubt impatient at being stopped so close to its home. Then it stretched out its neck and began to nibble on the grass at the verge of the track. Liza turned to face Matthew. “This is my home.”

  “Yes.” A light breeze lifted his dark hair out of his wary eyes.

  “I need your help with the harvest. After that, consider your debt paid.” She took a deep breath. “But if you leave this time, don’t expect me to wait for you to come back.” Her heart broke, just a little, at the words. But they needed to be said. She could not go through the pain of being left yet again. She had to protect herself.

  The silence between them seemed to stretch into eternity. Not even a breath of wind to rustle the leaves in the maple tree by the track. Only the sounds of the horse cropping the grass and the faint purr of the kitten inside his coat. He did not move. She wanted to sink down into the long grass by the side of the trail and hide there. She could not bear it. He wanted nothing to do with her.

  Finally, he spoke. “In your position... I would probably do the same thing.”

  Apparently, that was all he had to say on the matter. She picked up the reins and clucked to the
horse to finish their journey. His response did not make her feel any better. It only reinforced her growing suspicion that the man she had fallen in love with on the Oregon Trail was truly gone. Matthew no longer loved her.

  And she was still as much in love with him as ever.

  Chapter Four

  As the wagon began its slow, rattling descent into the valley, Matthew brooded over the injustice of his situation. Liza blamed him for abandoning her on the trail. Not only did he have no explanation for leaving her, he could not even remember doing so. If that wasn’t bad enough, he had to spend several weeks living on this claim, and he had no idea how to deal with her. He could only fall back on his instinct that women needed to be protected. At least she understood that he didn’t plan to stay around and marry her.

  His thoughts spun round and round until he almost felt dizzy. He was going to get a headache again if he didn’t relax. He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He just had to fulfill his bargain with Liza, and then he would be on his way again. He still felt guilty about the situation. There was no way to avoid feeling like a cad.

  Liza started to speak, then stopped. Tentatively, as if picking her way through a field of boulders, she said, “I should explain something. My father is not well. A tree fell the wrong way and landed on his legs. Broke them, one in two places. They’re healing—he’s able to get around the house and walk a little—but it’s hard for him. A woman from the Kanaka mission came by to help him with daily chores while I was in town.” They had reached the valley floor. The track led up to a small rise on the far side of the narrow valley, to a log cabin. She went on, “He might be...he gets a little cantankerous at times. It frustrates him that he can’t get around and do everything he wants. I thought I should mention that he might be in a bad mood.”

  Wonderful. This day just keeps getting better and better.

  The cabin was typical of the dwellings that Matthew had seen on their way here, small but sturdy, built of whole logs with a roof that projected out a few feet to provide a protected porch. Only a thin wisp of smoke rose from the chimney, and no candlelight showed through the oiled paper in the window. As the wagon rolled to a stop in front of the cabin, the whole setting looked idyllic.

  At least, it did until they heard the singing.

  “What on earth is causing that caterwauling?” Matthew demanded. “Is someone torturing a cat in there?” From inside his coat, the kitten popped its head out, ears pricked inquisitively. He stroked it between the ears and it started to purr again, the peaceful sound a stark contrast to the dreadful tuneless sounds coming from inside. He started to get out so he could offer a hand to Liza as she descended, but she scrambled down without waiting for him. She had her shoulders hunched, as if to ward off what waited for her inside.

  Liza pulled the string on the door, lifting the latch inside, and pushed the cabin door open wide. After the bright sunshine, the cabin seemed very dark. Looking over her shoulder, Matthew could make out a table, a couple of benches, one on its side, and a cat-and-clay fireplace with only embers glowing. He could just discern a man sitting at the table, slumped forward, his head bent. A half-finished loaf of bread, a hunk of cheese and two plates were on the table...as well as an empty jar, lying on its side. He could not see much more than that. But he did not need sight, not when his sense of smell could tell him all he needed to know. His nose wrinkled.

  “Oh, no.” Liza went to the man at the table, who was still crooning softly. She set the empty jar upright. “Pa, you said you weren’t going to buy any more. You promised faithfully.” Her voice broke on the last word, and without thinking Matthew stretched out a hand to her. She did not notice, focused as she was on her father. He let his arm drop and clenched his hand into a fist. There was nothing he could do to help ease her distress.

  The man mumbled something, his words slurring together so that Matthew could not make out what he was saying. Then the man repeated himself, louder. “Didn’ buy anything. Gift, thas what it was. Being neighborly. Thas all. The man kindly shared his drink. Social.”

  “Was it Mr. Brown? He didn’t ask you to sign anything, did he?” Even in the dim light of the cabin, Matthew could see Liza’s face had turned white.

  “No, no.” He mumbled the words, his eyes closing as he angled his head back against the pillow. “I didn’ sign anything. I kept my promise. I’m not like that man of yours.” Her father’s eyes closed, and he sighed deeply. “It was just a verbal agreement. ‘A gentleman’s agreement,’ he said.” Her father’s mumbling faded away into snores. His mouth relaxed, and he rolled his head over until it was pillowed on one arm.

  Liza shook him by the shoulder. “What was the agreement? Pa, what did you agree to do?” But her father’s snores rolled on, unimpeded.

  She looked around at the cabin and shook her head helplessly. “I don’t even know where to begin.” She focused on Matthew again. “This isn’t like him, not usually. Pa hasn’t had anything to drink in, oh, in months. Truly.”

  It seemed important to her that he understood that, so he nodded. “Where does he sleep?”

  “He sleeps in the back room. I sleep up in the loft.” She bit her lip. “I could put a blanket down on the floor in the back room for you?”

  “Let’s worry about that later. First things first.”

  She leaned forward to pick up a plate. Then she put it back down again. She sighed. “The cows need milking, and I need to check on the chickens, take care of the horse, get my father to bed, clean up the house...”

  He felt an odd impulse to reach out, take her in his arms and comfort her. That was impossible, of course, so he scowled. “I’ll get your father to bed and then tend to the horse.”

  “Do you feel up to it? You’re not dizzy or anything?” She looked up at him, those clear gray eyes showing her gratitude. Warmth swept through him when she looked at him like that. It was distracting. His scowl deepened, and she looked away, her face turning red.

  “If I start to feel faint, I’ll rest. You go tend to the cows and feed the chickens.” He couldn’t help it. He gave in to his need to touch her. Sliding a finger under her chin, he lifted her face up until she met his eyes. “It’ll be all right. You’ll see.” He dropped his hand hastily and took a step back.

  He got Liza’s father into bed with some difficulty. Though the older man was not tall, he was broadly built and heavily muscled. He leaned heavily against Matthew as he stumbled across the back room to the bed. Matthew eased the other man down onto the bed. Still only half-conscious, the older man sighed deeply. “Don’t be angry, Katy girl. I’ll make it up to her.”

  Matthew removed the man’s boots and drew a quilt over him. Heading outside, he unharnessed the horse and rubbed it down before setting it loose in its paddock. Then he went back to the cabin and built up the fire until it had begun to light the room with a cheery red glow. The kitten seemed content to crouch under a bench and watch him. He was just looking around for a candle to light when Liza came in. A wooden yoke was slung across her shoulders, and a pail of milk hung down from a rope on either side.

  “It’ll be a simple meal tonight. I brought bread and cheese from town, some apples, smoked salmon.”

  “That sounds lovely,” he said politely. His stomach was so hollow, it was starting to make growling noises. Hopefully, she couldn’t hear it. He found the stub of a candle set in a saucer and lit it. Light spread throughout the room.

  “He took out the chess set.” Liza squatted down to pick up the chess pieces, which had spilled out over the puncheon floor.

  Matthew knelt down to help her, picking up pieces and putting them into their little box. He fingered one of the pawns, rubbing the polished wood with his thumb.

  She glanced over at him. “Does it look familiar? You left it with me when you took off on the California Trail instead of coming with us out to Oregon.”

  He stared down a
t the piece. “Yes, I...no.” He put the piece in the box. “I thought there was something, but it’s gone.”

  “It will come back. You just need patience.”

  “Not my most noted quality,” he said darkly.

  She gave him a half smile. “Looks like we have something in common after all.”

  His eyebrows flicked upward. Was she flirting with him? No, apparently not. She had gone back to picking up the chess pieces, her head bent and her eyes on the floor. “I taught Pa how to play a little. He indulges me, but it’s not his favorite way to pass the time. He’d far rather tell stories.” She frowned. “The Baron loves chess. So does his assistant, Mr. Brown. He used to come by and challenge me to a game. He said I was a very good player.”

  “He didn’t strike me as an especially honest man. Possibly he was trying to sweeten you up. A man tends to compliment a beautiful woman rather than criticize her.”

  After supper, Liza was tired, but far too restless to sleep. On impulse, she asked Matthew to come outside. There was a question she needed to ask, even though he most likely could not answer, and she did not want to chance her father overhearing her.

  The sun had disappeared behind the western ridge. In the east, the last rays of the setting sun still lit up the white snow at the very tip of Mount Hood, but on the claim it was growing dark. All the better. She had a feeling this conversation would be easier if she couldn’t see Matthew. If he were feeling sorry for her, she had no desire to see the pity on his face.

  She sat down on the bench outside the cabin and motioned for him to join her. Matthew seemed hesitant, careful to leave some space between them when he sat down, and he looked around the claim rather than at her. Even so, she was extremely conscious of him, the mere physical presence of the man.

  He had rolled up his sleeves to help her clean up the cabin; she could see the wiry black hair that lightly furred his forearms. His hands were strong, the fingers long and graceful, but terribly battered. Even in the fading light, she could see the scar that ran across the back of his left hand along the knuckles. That was new, but his hands were still achingly familiar to her. Hands that had once held hers as they had walked, hands that had brushed her hair back from her face as he looked down and smiled at her. She swallowed. Letting go of the past was harder than she had expected. Maybe it would be easier if she could at least get this one mystery cleared up.