Where the Heart Is Romance Collection

by Andrea Boeshaar

His voice sounded so lost, as if he still wandered in that terrible dream, that Emmeline found herself perching on the side of his bed, grasping his hand. “Perhaps if you told me about it, you would feel better?”

  He sat up, his breath still ragged. “It’s always the same dream. The war. Seamus dying. I suppose today’s events brought it back. You woke me up before the worst part.”

  Pain saturated his words, and she remained still, clasping his hand, waiting.

  “Seamus—Sean’s father—and I saw a lot of action, but neither of us was ever wounded. We never even got ill. It was as if we led a charmed life.” His voice became far away, remembering. “We were part of an elite squad tasked with making life difficult for the enemy however we could. We rode light and fast, living off the land, destroying rail lines, telegraph poles, blowing up ammunition depots. And ambushing enemy troops. That was our specialty—ambush. I can’t tell you the number of men we killed.” His fingers tightened around hers. “At first, it turned my stomach, but after a while it was as if I became numb to all the killing.” He sucked in a breath. “Then Seamus was killed. He saved my life, shoved me out of the way of a bullet. I watched him die, and I shot the man who killed him. And I felt nothing. I couldn’t even seem to mourn, not then. Nothing mattered, not his life, not mine, and not the lives of the men I killed. I just kept on killing. Every day for weeks and months, I shot men. And I felt nothing. No remorse, no fear, nothing.”

  Tears burned her eyes. She had been greatly sheltered from the war when it happened, since she was but a child at the time, and afterward the subject had been taboo in their household out of respect for Evelyn. Emmeline had never heard any firsthand accounts like this, nor had she realized that Joe’s memories lay like a festering wound in his breast, a wound that needed drawing out.

  “Then the end of the war came. When we got word of the surrender, I was deep in the South. We’d been burning houses and fields, pushing to the ocean. When the news came, men all around me celebrated, whooping and cheering. But I couldn’t seem to feel anything. Not joy, not relief. I just wandered the streets in Charleston in a fog. I don’t even know how I got there, but I found myself in a church, on my knees at the rail. Then something inside me broke, like an axe hitting a rain barrel. Tears ran down my face and splashed onto the floor, and in that instant, I wasn’t numb anymore. Pain like I’d never known.” His hand pressed against his chest. “It was as if I could feel the bullet that took Seamus’s life. All that time of not feeling anything caught up with me.”

  Her throat thickened, and she blinked hard.

  “I swore that day I would never pick up a gun against my fellow man again. I know you’ve wondered why I’ve been so reluctant to fight back against the cattlemen in the area, why I don’t protect my property with a gun. It’s not because I’m afraid I couldn’t kill another man but because I’ve had my fill of it. I’m afraid if I shoot another man, I’ll go back to that place of not caring, of not feeling, and I won’t be able to stop killing.”

  The tears Emmeline had been fighting spilled over her lashes and tumbled down her cheeks. “Joe, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

  He seemed to become more alert, as if shedding the last bits of his nightmare. Leaning close, he stared into her eyes. His hand came up to touch her face, catching the tears with his thumb. The gentle caress of his fingers against her cheek sent a warm feeling through her middle like the first drink of hot cocoa on a cold day. Awareness of his state of half-dress and her own thin nightgown pricked her mind, but she didn’t care. He was her husband, and he was laying his soul bare before her.

  She didn’t know who moved first, but the distance between them closed ever so slowly until their lips touched, soft as a whispered prayer. His arms tightened around her, and his hands came up to bury themselves in her hair, releasing it from its loose braid to cascade over her shoulders like a shawl. He kissed her again, stealing her breath, and she kissed him back, tentative at first then with growing ardor. Sunbursts shot through her, and her skin suddenly felt too tight. She forgot about the war, about the sheep, about everything but this man who had stolen her heart with his gentleness.

  Chapter 7

  You have to go, Emmeline. I can’t have you here in harm’s way.”

  “Please.” She clung to his arm. After their amazing night together, she finally felt she understood her husband, and she was finally his wife in every sense. And she had no desire to leave him now, especially not to stand up to Blake Randall alone. When he’d had to leave her to take his turn on watch in the early hours of the morning, it had felt as if her heart would burst with fear for his safety. “I want to stay with you.”

  His arm came around her, and he brushed a kiss across her temple. “I know you do, but I need you to go. Sean’s not happy about having to take you, but you’ll be doing me a favor keeping him out of it. Pierre and I will watch the sheep, and I don’t think Blake will kill us in cold blood. I’ll try to talk sense into him.”

  Sean stomped around, saddling the horses. Unused to being ridden, the team snorted and sidestepped, throwing their heads up and swishing their tails.

  “You make for Parker’s place. Stay with your sister there. I’ll come for you when I can. And keep Sean with you. Tell Matt to leg rope him like a wandering hog if he tries to get back here.”

  The boy jerked the girth tight and shot Joe a filthy look but said nothing. After the flaming row they’d had at first light, there was nothing left to be said. At least nothing that would change Joe’s mind.

  Emmeline let Joe boost her into the saddle. The animal shifted beneath her, and she grabbed the reins and a fistful of mane. “I always wanted to learn to ride, but I never thought it would be like this.”

  “You can do it, Emma-girl.” Joe patted her hand and winked at her. “You be careful.”

  “You too, Joe.”

  He tugged on her hand, pulling her down for one last kiss. Sean snorted and kicked his horse into a gallop. Her own horse took off, dragging her away from Joe, thundering over the ground. She clung to the saddle, at first terrified, but when she didn’t fall off and her body caught the rhythm of the horse’s movement, she relaxed a fraction. The wind whipped against her cheeks and blew her hair back. Sean didn’t slow the pace and didn’t look back to see if she followed until they had gone several miles. He eased back on the reins, and as his horse slowed, so did hers, to a bumpy trot then to a walk. The animals blew, sides heaving.

  Her chest rose and fell from the exertion and exhilaration. She’d done it, ridden a running horse across the prairie. “That was amazing.”

  Sean shrugged, but his look was one of begrudging admiration. “Thought you’d holler for me to stop a long time ago. You’ve got some grit.”

  The terrain rose steadily away from the river bottom, and the horses climbed at a walk. She checked the angle of the early morning sun. “How long will it take us to get to Matt and Gwendolyn’s place?”

  “’Bout an hour.”

  “But it took so much longer by wagon.”

  “That’s because you went by road to the homestead. We’re going cross-country, and we moved the flock closer to Parker’s boundary to graze along the river.”

  In spite of the trouble they were leaving Joe and Pierre in, Emmeline couldn’t help but thrill to the notion of seeing one of her sisters so soon. She had so much she needed to talk over with Gwendolyn, and she ached to be sure her younger sister fared well.

  By the time the hour was up and they approached the Parker spread, Emmeline’s legs trembled, and her backside ached.

  The back door of the ranch house swung open, and Emmeline recognized the familiar form of her little sister.

  “What happened? Are you all right?” The words tumbled out of Gwendolyn’s mouth as she closed the distance between them.

  Emmeline all but fell out of the saddle into her sister’s arms. Her knees wobbled, and she clutched Gwendolyn’s shoulders. “Is Matthew here?”

  “He’s at the ba
rn.”

  Sean took the trailing reins of Emmeline’s horse and headed toward the big wooden structure.

  “How many men does Matthew have working here?”

  “Why? Why are you here? What’s going on?” Gwendolyn helped her to the porch and into the kitchen. Without waiting for an answer, she pushed Emmeline into a chair and filled a glass with water. The young girl in the wheelchair came into the room.

  “You remember Betsy, Matt’s sister? Betsy, this is Emmeline. Here, drink this, then tell us what’s going on.”

  Part of Emmeline’s mind registered the fact that her little sister seemed to have grown up a lot over the past three months. And she was wearing a wedding ring. So at least that had been settled. She shouldn’t be surprised that Gwendolyn had changed. She had changed and grown a lot herself.

  Boots sounded on the porch, and Matt strode inside followed by Sean. Emmeline spilled out the story of Blake Randall and the trouble Joe faced. Sean helped her, filling in some bits she wasn’t aware of. When she mentioned that her husband was a sheepherder, Gwendolyn gasped.

  Matt listened, asked a couple of questions, and when she’d finished, turned and plucked a gun belt from a row of pegs by the back door. His face set in hard lines. “Sean, get to the bunkhouse and round up whoever’s there. Tell them to send a rider to Garvey’s and Kittrick’s and get as many men as they can muster here right smart. We’ll all ride together to Joe’s camp.”

  Emmeline swallowed. Though she’d prayed for someone to help Joe, she hadn’t dared think that her cattlemen brothers-in-law would come to his aid. “Joe doesn’t want any bloodshed. I’m sure he doesn’t expect you to ride in there. He just wanted a safe place to keep Sean and me. He’s not a coward.” She stared hard at Matt, willing him to believe her.

  “I’ve known Joe Barrett for a while now, and he’s a lot of things, but a coward isn’t one of them.” Matt’s assertion was balm to her soul.

  Gwendolyn squeezed Emmeline’s hand. “Joe’s part of our family now, and family sticks together. Of course Matt will ride out to help him.”

  “I’m going with you.” Emmeline rose, stifling a groan at her already sore muscles.

  When Matt opened his mouth to protest, Gwendolyn straightened. “If you were in trouble, Matthew Parker, heaven and earth couldn’t keep me from your side.”

  Matt removed his hat, shoved his fingers through his hair, and studied her. “If I had known how contrary and stubborn you are, I might not have married you, woman.” A warm light in his eyes belied his hard words, and Gwendolyn went to his side, putting her arms around his waist and resting her head against his chest.

  Emmeline blinked. Things had changed drastically since her last visit. Matt and Gwendolyn obviously cared a great deal for each other. Their closeness made the ache to be with her husband even greater. Was Joe still all right?

  Matt sighed. “A range war is no place for women, and Joe’d have my hide for a parlor rug if I brought you with us.”

  “I’ll explain to him that you couldn’t keep me here.”

  He grimaced. “You and your sister are sure cut from the same cloth.”

  By afternoon, the ranch yard teemed with horses, armed men, and noise. Jane and Evelyn had come with their husbands, and the four sisters embraced, wiping tears of joy and talking all at once. Love surrounded Emmeline, but her heart was out on the range with her husband, and though she wanted to stay, she knew she must go.

  “I’ll be back, and I’ll bring Joe.” Though her muscles had stiffened up, she forced herself to mount the horse Matt had brought for her. Sean was also on a new horse, and he took up a position on her right.

  “Sean, Joe was clear that he wanted you to stay here, but”—she held up her hand to stay his speech—“I won’t make you stay behind. But, please, you have to promise me you’ll take orders and not be foolish. Joe doesn’t want any bloodshed, and if you let your temper get the best of you, someone’s going to get killed.”

  Sean clamped his jaw, stared at his hands on the reins for a moment, then looked up, a clear, mature light shining in his green eyes. “I’ll mind myself. I won’t seek out trouble, and I’ll look after you. I don’t want anyone killed, but I sure am glad we’re doing something instead of just taking it on the chin like we have been.”

  “Joe has a very good reason for handling things this way. After this is all over, maybe you can see things from his point of view. He cares about you, and it hurts him when you argue.”

  Matt conferred with Harrison and Gareth, issued orders to the men, and swung aboard his gelding.

  Emmeline found herself in the center of a hoof-pounding, heart-pounding posse. Sean stayed at her side, and they thundered over the prairie. With each hoofbeat, she prayed they would be in time to help Joe.

  Joe kept the dogs circling the tightly bunched flock. Shep went one direction, Robbie Burns the other, and when they crossed paths, they ignored each other, focused only on their job of keeping the sheep together. The sheep, knowing something was different, stood still, heads up, tense. Pierre, on the far side of the mob, kept his back to the animals, staring up the slope in the direction of Randall’s property line. A low outcropping of rock jutted up from the prairie a few paces from where the Frenchman stood, handy cover if things got out of hand.

  The hands of Joe’s plain silver watch seemed to crawl. He stood near the wagon. His rifle leaned just inside the door.

  Please, Lord, don’t make me have to use it. I don’t want to go back to that place. I don’t want to kill Blake Randall. Orla is my friend, and I don’t want to shoot his son.

  Robbie was the first one to sense Blake’s arrival. His black-and-white head came up, and he gave a low woof.

  Joe’s stomach clenched. Riders crested the hill and fanned out, dark against the afternoon sky. Blake Randall sat his horse in the center of the line. Ten, twelve, fifteen, eighteen riders.

  Against two shepherds.

  “I figured you were too stubborn to leave. That was a mistake, Barrett.” Blake’s shout made the already tense flock even more volatile. Several ewes bleated.

  “Blake, I’m asking you again to leave us alone. This is the kind of thing that starts a range war, and nobody wins. Men die, animals are killed, and the thing just goes on and on.”

  “You’re the only sheepman left on this range, and after I run you out, that will be the end of it. You’re all alone down there. I hope you had sense enough to send your woman away.”

  “Emmeline’s not here, but I’m asking you to remember your father’s wishes. He gave me his word I’d have no trouble from him or his riders.”

  “He’s dead, died this morning, and these riders aren’t his. They’re mine. And I’m clearing this range of those sheep. If you get in our way, I’ll cut you down.”

  Joe’s heart thundered in his ears, and he had barely an instant to breathe a prayer when Randall’s men started down the slope. He picked up his rifle, his throat squeezed tight. A sick, faraway feeling invaded his stomach. Please, God, I don’t want to kill him.

  He took aim at the black horse.

  The thundering in his ears grew louder, and the ground shook. Bleating and baaing, the sheep scattered ahead of the riders. His finger tightened on the trigger. If he could bring the horse down, perhaps Blake would come to his senses. Just before he squeezed off the shot, Randall’s riders pulled up, horses rearing and tossing their heads.

  But the pounding of hooves didn’t stop. Behind the wagon, streaming around it like water breaking around a rock, horses and riders flowed. Joe caught a glimpse of golden hair, and his heart stopped.

  Gareth Kittrick, Harrison Garvey, and Matt Parker positioned themselves between the sheep and Randall’s riders. Sean swung from the saddle and strode across the campsite to take up his position beside Joe. And Emmeline sat on her restless horse as if she’d been born in the saddle, her eyes finding Joe’s.

  “Blake, aren’t you a bit far from home?” Gareth’s voice carried to Joe.


  “This ain’t none of your concern, Kittrick. Nor yours, Garvey. And Parker, I’d think you’d be siding with me against this lousy sheepherder since he’s grazing ground you need to fatten up your cattle. Us cattlemen need to stick together. Now that my pa’s dead, I’m in charge of things, and I say we run the sheepherders out!”

  Matt rode his horse forward a few steps. Cowboys flanked either side of him, rifles across their saddles, leather creaking, eyes intent. The riders Emmeline had brought outnumbered Blake’s at least two to one.

  “Blake,” Matt’s voice carried back to them. “Your father would be ashamed of you, harassing his friend like this. You need to understand something about family. Family sticks together. That’s what we’re doing here. Maybe you didn’t know it, but we all married sisters. That makes me and Harrison and Matt and Joe brothers-in-law. We’d take it pretty hard if we found out you were causing Joe any trouble. Not to mention how unhappy it would make our wives. I might not be able to hold these men back if that happened.” He shrugged.

  Harrison spoke up. “This is the kind of thing that gets out of hand in a hurry. Men wind up doing some mighty foolish things, and folks get killed. I don’t claim any love for sheep, but this is open range, and Joe Barrett is family. We’d appreciate it if you all cleared off and left him alone.”

  Emmeline slid from her saddle, let the reins trail, and came toward Joe. She removed the rifle from his hands and gave it to Sean. Without a word, she slipped her hand into his and squeezed.

  Blake Randall’s glare could’ve started a fire, but he was smart enough to know when he was beaten. He motioned his men to retreat. “You’ve won this day, but I’ll be back.”

  Matt legged his horse until he was alongside Blake and could grab the reins near the bridle. “You misunderstand us. This is the end of the feud. If we hear that so much as one of these lambs has come under distress as a result of you or your riders, we’ll come hunting you down.”

  “I can’t believe a cattleman would defend a sheepman like this.”