Where the Heart Is Romance Collection

by Andrea Boeshaar

  Matthew appeared oblivious to her consternation. “I’d like to start with a general survey of the area. Get the lay of the land, so to speak. When I’m better oriented, we’ll start looking at specific locations, if that’s all right with you.”

  Charlene nodded and waved good-bye to Jed, who sat on the front porch with an infuriatingly smug smile on his face. All right for him—he didn’t have to spend the day watching every word he uttered! She guided the team in a meandering loop that took them through alpine meadows and forests, along craggy precipices and across rippling streams. Matthew stared in rapt wonder and breathed deeply of the tangy, pine-scented air, seeming to take in every detail.

  He peppered Charlene with questions, which she answered readily, identifying Ponderosa pines and aspens and the different kinds of grasses and shrubs. When she drew his attention to a red-tailed hawk gliding silently over an open glade, his eyes lit up with an excitement that tugged at Charlene’s heart.

  At the edge of a clearing, she pulled the horses to a gentle stop. “Look.” She spoke softly and pointed across the broad meadow. “Just coming past that clump of oaks. Do you see him?”

  Matthew strained his eyes, searching for movement. Then his breath caught in his throat. A bull elk strode out of the trees into full view, carrying his rack of antlers with majestic dignity. Charlene leaned close. “It’s late for him to still have his antlers,” she whispered. “I guess he waited, just for you.”

  Before she moved away, Matthew caught the full effect of her dazzling blue eyes, sparkling now with delight at being able to share the sight of the elk with him. He smiled back at her. Without warning, she seemed to become as skittish as a forest creature. Pulling away, she clucked to the horses, and they moved on.

  Matthew closed his eyes and tried to regain his equilibrium. The scents, the sights, the sounds, and the unnerving presence of this girl all combined into a heady mixture that threatened to overwhelm his senses.

  Charlene turned the team to the south, and Matthew realized they were heading toward town. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said. “I need to pick up some supplies.”

  “Not at all,” he replied. “I forgot to make arrangements to have someone come out and collect the buggy I rented, so I can take care of that while you shop.”

  Charlene watched him stride off down the street toward the livery before she headed into the general store.

  “I have quite a lot to purchase this time.” She handed the bank draft and her list to Abel Foster with a smile. He pursed his lips in a soundless whistle at the number of items she had written down, then set to work retrieving them.

  Charlene whiled away her time fingering bolts of fabric and wondering whether she could afford a new spring dress. If not, it wouldn’t matter. They would have supplies aplenty for a good while to come, and that was the important thing. A new dress couldn’t be considered a necessity. It wasn’t as though she wanted to impress anyone.

  Don’t you? sang a little voice in her head.

  “No,” she muttered under her breath, putting the interfering voice in its place.

  Matthew chose that moment to enter the store. He stopped just inside the doorway and peered around. Even from across the store, she could see his dark eyes light up with pleasure when he spotted her.

  To her chagrin, Charlene caught herself reaching up to smooth her hair. She yanked her arms down to her sides and walked to the counter, trying to look completely relaxed and at ease. She was not trying to impress anyone.

  Matthew moved next to her, and Abel Foster quirked up one eyebrow when he saw them standing together. He bent over the counter and made a show of tallying up Charlene’s purchases.

  “This is Mr. Benson.” Charlene made the introduction, wishing she could control the flush she felt staining her cheeks. “He’s visiting Grandpa and me for a while.”

  Abel nodded as though the information was of little interest, but Charlene was sure she caught a speculative glance from under his lowered eyelids.

  Matthew waved off Abel’s offer to help load the wagon and carried several heavy armloads outside. Charlene was supervising his placement of the items in the wagon when a voice behind her made her jump.

  “Why, Charlene Matkin! Good to see you out and about again.”

  She whirled to find Brother Jenkins, the local preacher, beaming at her. “Hello,” she replied warmly. “It has been a while, hasn’t it? I think the roads have been worse than usual this spring. Now they’ve dried out, I’ll be back in church again.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Brother Jenkins picked up a sack of flour and swung it effortlessly onto the wagon bed. “How’s that ornery old grandfather of yours?”

  Charlene laughed. “He’s doing well, thanks. I know he’d like to get out more, but he doesn’t let it get him down.” She introduced Matthew, and the two men shook hands.

  “Good to meet you,” the pastor said. “I hope to see you both in church.” Charlene shot a sidelong glance at Matthew, wondering what appeal their little country church would hold for someone who had undoubtedly heard many well-trained ministers. To her delight, he seemed buoyed by the prospect of attending.

  “I look forward to it,” he said with enthusiasm.

  The comment gave Charlene food for thought long after Brother Jenkins waved a cheery good-bye and they started for home.

  Supper that evening was more elaborate than the night before. When the meal was over, Matthew helped dry the dishes as though it were a matter of routine before he settled in front of the hearth with Jed. He barely noticed when Charlene said a quiet good night and slipped off to her room.

  Matthew stretched his legs out toward the fire and heaved a sigh of sheer contentment, letting his eyelids droop nearly closed. The weather had been pleasant earlier, but now he felt a distinct chill in the air, and he welcomed the warmth of the dancing flames. He glanced at Jed, who stared at the flickering points of light as if watching scenes of his early years.

  “When I first saw these mountains,” the older man said, “it seemed like there was only me and God out here. I helped open the way for others to come. And I did it willingly, but it will never be the same. Never again.”

  “I envy you, seeing it in that pristine state.” Matthew spoke without moving his gaze from the fire. “You were able to witness something only a very few people have. What I treasure, though, is sharing a small part of that experience through your stories. Thousands of readers like me will have at least some idea of what it was like because we’ve traveled through it with Nick Rogers and seen it with his eyes.”

  He turned his head toward his companion. “You’re quite a man, Jed. Not many men who helped conquer the West would have the desire or the ability to share it so well.”

  Jed shuffled his feet, apparently lost in thought. Matthew wondered if the other man had heard a word of his praise.

  “I came out here hardly more than a youngster,” Jed reminisced. “But a man has to grow up and catch on quick out here, or he doesn’t survive. I trapped beaver, fox, and marmot all through these mountains. Sometimes I’d go for months without seeing a living soul.”

  “Didn’t you ever get lonely?” Matthew spoke softly, not wanting to break his host’s concentration.

  “Lonely?” Jed shook his head. “I came out here to get away from people. Back where I came from, a body didn’t have any elbow room, and it seemed like folks were so busy pushing each other aside to get what they wanted, they didn’t have time to be decent to one another anymore. Out here, a man has room to walk, room to think, and time to get to know God.

  “Besides,” he added with a grin, “it wasn’t all isolation. You should have seen the rendezvous, when we’d all gather to swap stories and sell the pelts we’d collected. My, those were shinin’ times! Now, some of those old boys had stories your readers would love to hear. Bill Williams, Antoine Leroux, Paulino Weaver—I met ’em all, one time or another.”

  “So how did you wind up with a family, wa
y out here?”

  A soft smile lit Jed’s face. “Back home, where all those people were fussing at each other, there was a girl named Mary. No matter how long I stayed away, no matter how many mountains I crossed, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I’d see her face in the river, in the clouds, in my dreams.

  “One day I chucked it all and went back to see if she remembered me. She just stood there, tapping her foot, and said, ‘You took your own sweet time coming back, Jedediah. I’d about given up on waiting for you.’” He threw back his head and roared.

  “She was some woman, I’m telling you! I stuck it out back there until Robert, Charlene’s father, was about half grown. Then these old mountains started pulling at me again. Mary knew me so well. One day she said, ‘We’ve stayed here long enough, Jedediah. You won’t be happy unless you have both me and your mountains. Since we can’t move the mountains here, it looks like we’d better start packing.’

  “Two weeks later, we headed west. Set up our place over on the Verde River. After Robert was grown, he made a foray over to the California goldfields. He didn’t make a strike, but he came back with a wife, and they settled right here. When I came to live with them, I helped them add on to this house. It’s been a good life,” he reflected. “A different kind of life, but a good one.”

  “I’d say it was a remarkable life.” Matthew hoped his praise wouldn’t seem overly effusive. “What appeals to me most about your stories is that they’re accurate, not romanticized. You haven’t fallen into the trap so many authors have of exaggerating in order to capture the reader’s interest, and thank goodness for that!

  “Why they feel they have to stretch the truth at all is beyond me,” he continued. “This country is so big, so wide open, just portraying it as it is makes it seem larger than life to readers back east. There’s no need to embellish. The truth is astounding enough.”

  “So you like what you see here, do you?” Jed asked.

  Matthew took a moment to respond, framing his answer carefully. “It isn’t often that reality lives up to your expectations. But in this case, it’s everything I had imagined… and more,” he added softly, thinking of the girl with the delphinium-blue eyes framed by a golden halo of hair.

  Chapter 4

  A determined shaft of sunlight broke through a tiny gap in the curtains and fixed itself on Charlene’s right eyelid. She scrunched her eyes tighter and muttered in her sleep. Slowly, the knowledge that the sun was not only up but high enough to be shining in her bedroom window penetrated her sleep-numbed mind, and she sat up with a start, clutching the bedclothes to her.

  She shook her head, trying to clear away the dullness, and measured the sun’s height with a practiced eye. She couldn’t remember ever sleeping this late in her life! But then, she had seldom been up as late as she was the night before.

  Slipping off while Jed and Matthew were engaged in conversation had given her valuable time alone, and the ideas flowed freely from her mind onto the paper. Charlene became so absorbed in her writing that she didn’t realize how much time had passed until the flame guttered and she saw that the lamp was almost out of oil.

  Now, rubbing the last traces of sleep from her eyes, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. It was a wonder Jed hadn’t come banging on the door long before this to find out if she was ill. Maybe he and Matthew had overslept, too.

  She hoped so. That would give her time to put things in order before they discovered her slothfulness. Hastily, she pulled her brown calico dress over her head and emerged from its folds with her nose twitching. What was that tantalizing smell? Surely not coffee! Consumed with curiosity, she dressed her hair hurriedly and bolted out into the kitchen.

  The smell was coffee, all right, the aroma itself strong enough to jolt her completely awake. The fire in the woodstove sent fingers of radiant warmth through the house.

  Jed sat at the table, contentedly nursing a mug of coffee. “Must be nice to have someone take over your chores so you can spend half the day in bed,” he grumbled. Seeing Charlene’s stricken look, he burst forth with a loud guffaw. “Don’t take on so, honey. I was only teasing.”

  His gaze rested on her fondly. “I saw the light under your door when I got up to throw another log on the fire last night. I figured you’d need some extra sleep.”

  “Is Matthew awake yet?”

  Jed snorted. “He got up before I did. Had the fire going and coffee on by the time I came out here. Hear that?” He nodded toward the barn, and Charlene could hear the rhythmic blows of a hammer. “Said he noticed some loose boards that needed fixing when he was in there yesterday and thought he’d put it to rights to help pay for his keep.” He took a sip and mumbled, “If he keeps this up, we’ll owe him before long.”

  Jed continued talked while Charlene began stirring up pancake batter. “We had another good talk while he drank his coffee this mornin’. It gave me a chance to get to know him a little better.” He paused, then asked, “What do you think of him?”

  The blunt question caught Charlene off guard. “What do I think of him?” she repeated, trying to buy herself some time before answering. I think of him entirely too much, she admitted to herself. Trying her best to keep her voice neutral, she replied, “He seems nice enough. Why? What do you think of him?”

  “I think he’s a decent man. I truly like him. You know I don’t usually take to folks right off.”

  Charlene listened to make sure she could still hear the hammering from the barn before she asked the question that was on her heart. “What about letting him think you wrote the stories?”

  Jed hung his head, looking uncharacteristically abashed. “I don’t like it. I thought it would be fine, since those stories were mine long before I ever shared them with you, but it doesn’t feel right. I think we ought to set him straight.” He glanced up at Charlene.

  “He does seem nice.” She drew out her words, giving herself time to think. “But our livelihood is riding on the line. He can finish his trip, go back to Baltimore, and continue with his paper without giving us another thought.” Her heart lurched at the idea of Matthew leaving and forgetting about her.

  She pushed her emotions down and went on. “But we’ve got to get along somehow, and I don’t know yet how he’ll feel about having a woman writer.” She fixed Jed with a serious gaze, begging him to understand. “I want to tell him the truth too. It’s just that I’m not sure I’m willing to trust him with our future. Not yet, anyway. We need to find the right time.”

  The unspoken question of when that right time might be hung between them for a long moment before Jed spoke. “You’ve got a point there, honey,” he said quietly. “All right. We’ll wait a while longer before we say anything.”

  The scrape of boots on the back porch alerted them to Matthew’s arrival. When he swung the door open, Charlene was flicking water from her fingertips onto the griddle to see if it was hot enough. The dancing droplets assured her it was, and she poured out dollops of the batter. Behind her, she heard Matthew scoot a chair out from the table and sit down.

  “Finished already, are you?” Jed asked. “I can’t get over how handy you are. Not at all what I expected of a city boy.”

  “It must be this wonderful mountain air.” Matthew’s voice held a note of exultation. “I feel like I could do anything.” Charlene placed a platter stacked high with hotcakes in front of them, then slid into her chair.

  “Try ignoring those delicious flapjacks,” Jed suggested, and Matthew chuckled appreciatively.

  “Where to this morning?” Charlene asked with forced cheerfulness. Now that she and Jed had agreed that Matthew must be told of their deception, she felt a barrier had been erected between them.

  Matthew didn’t seem to notice. “I think I would like to start with the place where Nick—Jed, that is,” he amended with a grin, “talked his way out of trouble with that Apache hunting party. Is it too far away?”

  By the time they were halfway to their destination, Charlene thought
gloomily that she should have answered yes. Their route twisted, turned, and threaded along trails barely wide enough for the wagon to pass.

  Normally, the leisurely pace along the turning route made this one of Charlene’s favorite drives. Today, however, was hardly normal. Since her conversation with Jed, guilt over their misrepresentation of the truth swelled up, choking her with shame.

  How could something that seemed so simple—was it only a few days before?—turn into such a complicated situation?

  The truth shall set you free, her conscience chided.

  The truth could also cost me dearly, she argued back.

  Fortunately, Matthew seemed too engrossed in their surroundings to pay attention to her brooding. They rode along in companionable silence, and Charlene felt grateful that he seemed happy enough just drinking in the scenery.

  When they neared the top of a slope, Charlene stopped the wagon, allowing the horses a chance to catch their breath. “The place we’re heading is just over the rise,” she told Matthew. “Grandpa came along through those trees, following a game trail.” She swept her hand to the southeast, indicating his route.

  Staring intently, Matthew followed her gesture along the faint path.

  “He thought he was all alone,” she continued, “until he topped the rise. You’ll see in a minute how it forms a hollow. And down in the center of that hollow were four braves, busy dressing out a deer. By the time Grandpa realized they were there, they’d already seen him.

  “It was an awful fix to be in! Even with the bit of a head start he had, and with them having to run uphill to follow him, he knew he’d never be able to get away.”

  When she paused for breath, Matthew tried to imagine what he would have done in the same situation.