One Last Letter

by Pema Donyo

  “I’ve got work to do on the ranch all day . . .” His voice trailed off at the droop in her shoulders. “But I’m sure I can make some time.”

  “No, I cannot believe I even asked.” She gestured to the window, or what Jesse assumed was really the remains of the barn outside. “If I were up and able, I would spend all my time fixing that barn. With our ranch hands low, Father and the other boys need all the help they can get. I will be fine here on my own.” A small smile broke out at the corner of her mouth. “Let us see how many more books will put me to sleep before my ankle heals.”

  He chuckled, but his heart ached at the thought of her here alone. He could probably make some time to see her during the day, he reckoned.

  True to his plan, he hurried through his chores the next day. Fieldings was preoccupied with lifting a beam back into the rafters long enough for Jesse to slip away from the other cowboys and back toward the big house.

  He even picked some honeysuckle from one of the pastures near the ranch. If she couldn’t go outside, he’d bring the outdoors to her.

  His footsteps slowed when he heard the sound of a familiar masculine voice inside her bedroom. John Cooper. His brow furrowed. What was the judge’s son doing here? He paused near the doorway, trying to hear the conversation inside.

  The voices were too faint for him to make out, though. He peered in the room instead, his body safely hidden behind the door.

  John Cooper laughed at something Evelyn had said, responding in an animated way, with wide hand gestures and exaggerated expressions across his delighted face.

  Whatever he’d said, it made Evelyn laugh, too. Her forgotten books laid haphazardly to the side of her bedspread, probably chucked in a hurry when John had entered the room.

  Jesse glared at the scene. His only knowledge of the man was seeing him with the judge and hearing Loretta’s raving about how handsome he was. John Cooper was clean-shaven and polished. White shirt, black coat, fancy dress shoes. Upper class. Good family. East Coast education. Everything Jesse wasn't.

  He clenched his fists as he watched the two talk. John responded to Evelyn immediately, with smooth ease. His shoulders were relaxed, and he even patted her hand a few times during their conversation.

  Jesse didn't need to torture himself anymore. John Cooper knew how to talk to a woman, and the woman he’d chosen was Evelyn. His intentions were as clear as day.

  He swallowed hard. Evelyn was no fool. Surely she could tell John was sweet on her. But what did she see in him? His body was too weak to help her out on the ranch. Everyone knew he couldn’t shoot a door in a duel, though he bragged about his pistol. He wasn’t even that handsome.

  Jesse walked back down the hallway, but paused before a small basin filled with water. He gazed down at his reflection. He’d never spent much time worrying about his appearance. The scruff on his chin had gone unmanaged for a while and he’d let his beard grow out longer than he had before. A smear of dirt had somehow gone unnoticed across the bridge of his nose. He swiped it away, but it didn’t change his appearance. Even with his newfound wealth in California, it didn’t change who he really was: a cowboy.

  John Cooper, meanwhile, was a well-bred judge’s son. He could spend all day talking about academics with Evelyn, or reminisce about their time near the Atlantic. They were of the same class; they had blue-blooded upbringings in common.

  All she wanted from Jesse was friendship. None of the letters he’d received from her were addressed to anyone in particular. She still had no idea it was him.

  The honeysuckle crushed in his hand as he clenched his fist. She clearly didn’t even care about the letters. Jesse stormed out of the house and back to the ranch chores with new purpose. At the back of his mind, he knew his efforts were useless.

  No amount of cattle herding or fence mending was going to get his Eve out of his mind.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Father, have you seen Jesse?” Evelyn laid her fork down next to her plate. She hadn’t seen him all day. She hadn’t seen him in the last few days, actually. “Does he not eat in the house anymore?”

  “You’ve been in bed for the last two weeks, Evelyn. He’s been eating in the cookhouse with the other cowboys lately. Works himself way too hard for this ranch.”

  She frowned. “Why does he eat in the cookhouse now?”

  “Blend in with the boys. He’s more than fulfilled his end of the bargain by investing in the ranch, but he’s serious about not letting any of the other ranch hands know about his part in saving Breighton. Says he wants to be just another cowboy back on the ranch again while he’s here.”

  She pursed her lips. That was probably why he hadn’t visited her in the last week, she reasoned with herself. He was busy with work on the ranch. She smothered worries of his waning interest. “Do we still keep his room at the big house?”

  “Oh, sure. He still sleeps here. He just prefers to take his meals somewhere else.” Her father shrugged. “Whatever suits him is fine with me.”

  Evelyn patted the edge of her mouth with her napkin and then placed it beside her plate. She scooted her chair out from the table and excused herself. After a nod from her father, she headed toward the porch. She opened the front door and stepped onto the porch. No ranch work for at least another two weeks, the doctor ordered, but Evelyn was just grateful to be able to go outside again.

  She breathed in the fresh air like it was the first time she’d ever done so. The dry Texan heat of dusk comforted her. Being inside for too long made her feel trapped, and deprived. She had only her father and John to keep her company. She’d written to Jesse as soon as she’d been able to get out of bed, and placed the letter in the tree knothole, her heart hammering in her chest thinking of his possible reply.

  Tonight her letter was gone. Someone had taken it away and read it.

  Yet there was no reply.

  She frowned. There was always a reply.

  The back-and-forth motion of the oak rocker she rested against gave her some semblance of peace on the porch. She placed her elbow on one of the wooden chair arms and rested her cheek in her palm. Her head tilted slightly, eyes fixed the tree knothole where her letter had been laid. Maybe one of the other ranch hands had picked it up. Her heart hammered in her chest. Who else could have the letter?

  A pair of familiar, newfangled leather chaps and iron spurs entered her line of vision. Her gaze followed up the line of high-stitched scalloped cowboy boots and into Jesse’s gaze. She smiled.

  “Hello, Jesse.”

  He didn’t smile in return.

  “Hello, Evelyn.”

  Her gut tightened when she heard the formal address of her name once more. Why did he seem so solemn all of a sudden?

  “What happened to ‘Eve’, hmm?”

  Her hand brushed past his. He recoiled at the touch, as if her hand would burn him. She suppressed the urge to sigh. Lately she’d been nothing but walking on eggshells around him. Was she being too forward again?

  “Seems like your ankle healed.”

  Evelyn looked down at the bandage, and then turned a sharp look back up to him. Did he really not want to see her while she was recovering? She curled the hand he’d scorned around the end of one of the chair arms. Even John had visited her, several times. She bit her lip.

  “Why did you not visit me the past two weeks?”

  His shoulders straightened. He stared directly ahead instead of at her. When he finally spoke, his tone sounded indifferent. “I had work to do.”

  Her lips parted. She could see the tensed muscles corded up in Jesse’s forearm. His fists weren’t clenched, but he was hardly at ease. “You could have visited, at least once. I have not seen you at all—”

  “Surely you understand all the work required on the ranch.”

  “I wanted you to visit. I was worried something happened to you.” Her brow furrowed. “Are you ignoring me?”

  He swallowed, but looked at her. His brown eyes, which had once gazed so warmly in her dire
ction, seemed cold as ice now. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I feel like we are just running in circles. I offer my friendship to you, and you shut me out.” She swallowed to prevent herself from mentioning the letters. It seemed impossible that all the tender words of love expressed so eloquently could come from the same man whose tone was now as icy as an East Coast blizzard. Clearly he possessed no feelings of emotional attachment toward her. “I know we cannot help but think about what happened between us in the past, but we can put that behind us.”

  She could see the hairs bristle on the back of his neck. He nodded curtly. “I’ve never let the past get in the way of working the ranch.”

  Lies, Evelyn wanted to reply. His perfect indifference infuriated her. “Are you playing games with me? You are nice to me one minute, and then you ignore me the next.”

  She saw him flex his right hand, as if exercising self-restraint. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

  Say something! She wanted to yell it so loudly that all the neighboring ranches of Texas would hear her and telegram to tell her to be quiet. She wanted to exclaim the words until Jesse finally communicated with her.

  “Good night,” he muttered. His boots clipped against the wooden floorboards as he swung open the porch door and stepped inside the house.

  • • •

  Evelyn wasn’t able to sleep that night. She tossed and turned, burying her hands beneath her pillow. Her mind filled with possible solutions for his silence. He wouldn’t express his feelings to her in person, but there had to be a way to reach out to him.

  The only communication she seemed to have with him anymore was through the letters. Better than nothing.

  Hours after midnight, she took out a pen and paper to confess her confusion and detail her disappointment. She stuffed the letter into an envelope and placed it in the knothole. Hopefully he’d see it in the morning before he went to work on the ranch. The sooner he saw the letter, the sooner they’d be back to normal.

  It was midday when Evelyn dared to venture out to the tree knothole again. If Jesse really had received her letter, it would be gone by now. She put on her best dress and tied her hair up neatly. Her mouth pursed at her reflection and her hands smoothed over the front ruffles of her green dress with white piping. Maybe he would be waiting on her porch again, ready to finally admit his feelings toward her.

  But what if she’d made up all of their moments in her head? She twirled a lock of hair around her finger as she stepped off the porch and into her front yard. Maybe Jesse didn’t write those letters after all—

  Her train of thought was interrupted by the sight before her.

  Standing there, holding an envelope with a broken seal in one hand and reading her long letter from the other, was John Cooper.

  He scanned her words of love like a bear drooling over a stash of honey without a hive guarding it. His blue eyes were as wide as saucers. Disbelief, joy, and appreciation passed over his expression in alternating cycles.

  “John Cooper?” At her interruption, his gaze darted from her to the letter in his hand. She gulped. There had to be a logical explanation. She stepped forward with caution, as if coming too close would only confirm her nightmare. “Why are you holding that letter?”

  “Who did you write this letter for?” John smiled at her, his features lighting up. He shook the paper as if he’d found some great prize. “You write here that you give the addressee full permission to court you—to whom is this addressed to?”

  “The man who leaves me letters.” Evelyn felt her palms gather perspiration. The way John held the letter frightened her, as if he owned the envelope and the letter and her. “I found the first note addressed to me, and I have kept a correspondence with the person who writes them.”

  John glanced back at the letter. He seemed to be considering something, his forehead creased with concentration as he read over her words again. Her cheeks burned. She wanted nothing more than to snatch the letter right out of his grasp. Those words weren’t meant for him!

  Finally, he folded the letter and placed it in his pocket. There was an odd look of determination in his eyes, as if he’d mulled something over and finally made up his mind. “Do you like them? These letters sent to you?”

  Her eyes rested on the pocket of his vest. “I do.”

  He ran his thumb across the bottom of his jaw and sighed. “I must admit, I did not expect you to find my secret so directly. Evelyn, I am the man who writes you these letters.”

  Her jaw dropped. Surely there was a mistake. Those letters were from Jesse, weren’t they? “If those letters are from you, where was the first letter placed? It wasn’t in the knothole.”

  “Of course not. I placed it . . .” He hesitated for a moment, and then his eyes lit up. “I placed it on the porch.”

  Her heart sank. She’d been deluding herself the entire time.

  As if he’d known that he’d entered her thoughts, Jesse suddenly passed by the tree. He gripped the worn saddle horn as his black mustang trotted past the house. Surely he could see her, even out of the corner of his eye. She stood as plain as day in front of him! But he ignored her just the same.

  Her gaze flipped from the cowboy who couldn’t seem to care less about her to the earnest man standing before her. Now John was holding her hand, his well-manicured fingers gripping hers for dear life. “I was the one who wrote you the love letters. I’ve wanted to court you for so long. Tell me my hope has not been in vain, Evelyn Lancaster.”

  She found she didn’t even have the heart to remove her hand from John’s grasp. Her eyes trailed after Jesse’s retreating form. The corners of her eyes stung with saltwater tears. Foolish hopes; that was all she’d pinned on him. Once again, she’d let her imagination get the better of her. She’d even imagined he had feelings for her.

  She blinked back the tears threatening to fall and wished for an escape hole to suddenly appear beneath her black buckled boots. “I . . . I do not know what to say.”

  “Promise me you’ll let me court you, in the proper fashion and approved by your father.” John Cooper gripped her other hand, and she felt the uncomfortable sensation of his hands squeezing both of hers. She doubted she could run away even if she tried. “I will make you the happiest woman in Hamilton.”

  She wanted to laugh. Promises. What good had a promise ever done her?

  Turn around, she wanted to call to Jesse. She squinted at his profile heading down the trail. If he turned around in three seconds, then he did care for her. She hadn’t been imagining his feelings for her. Desperate hopes bubbled in her heart.

  Three . . .

  Two . . .

  “Turn around,” she whispered beneath her breath.

  One.

  Evelyn bit her lower lip so hard she tasted blood. “I accept your proposal.”

  “What did you say?” John asked.

  With a lifeless voice, she repeated, “Yes. You may court me.”

  John dropped her hands in surprise and grinned. “You will not regret this, Miss Evelyn Lancaster. You are worth the wait. Our future marriage will be the most lavish affair Texas has ever seen. I want you to be happy.”

  She wanted to be sick.

  She spun around, retreating back into the safety of her home. She didn’t know what had possessed her in that moment. It didn’t matter anymore who she was with.

  Every man was now the same to her.

  Even Jesse Greenwood.

  • • •

  Jesse turned his head back in the direction of the tree. Evelyn was no longer standing there. John remained instead, the tall man pacing up and down the porch with excitement. His hands were clasped behind his back, the black leather gloves making him look even more ridiculous than normal.

  Why had Evelyn been speaking so intently with John, anyway? Jesse thought back to earlier that afternoon. He’d ridden toward the porch when he saw Evelyn emerge from the house. But John beat him to her in the yard, and Evelyn didn’t
seem to mind. She even looked glad to see John.

  Jesse had ridden away as soon as he saw them together. Clearly Evelyn hadn’t wanted to be disturbed. She’d seen him riding past the tree and said nothing, just ignored him as if she couldn’t be bothered to speak with him when she was with John.

  He scowled, turning his head back around to urge the horse into a gallop. Why had he even looked? Clearly all she needed was John Cooper to keep her company.

  “Giddyap!” He removed his hat to slap the wide brim across the horse’s rump. The horse followed his command as he weaved down the road and toward Loretta’s house.

  The house he’d purchased for Loretta stood on the outskirts of Hamilton, but not as far as Breighton and not nearly as isolated. The trail only continued for another ten minutes until it reached Hamilton’s main avenue. The house was large enough to fit four people comfortably, and without the added acres around the property to manage, the upkeep wasn’t much at all. The blue house had white shingles, a small porch, and—Jesse furrowed his brow. Two maids running around the front?

  He slowed his horse to a halt and stepped out of the stirrups. He’d barely set his feet on the ground before one of the maids rushed toward him.

  He stepped back as she flung her arms around him, instantly wetting his shirt as she cried into his chest. She howled, shaking her head against his shirt as if he were already wrong before he’d even supplied a word. He slowly pulled her back from his soaked cotton shirt and placed both of his hands on her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Loretta!” The maid wailed again and wiped her tears with the side of one of her sleeves. “She’s run away.”

  His heart stopped cold. “What?”

  “She’s gone!” The woman threw out her arms into the air, a defeated expression on her face. “One moment I was clipping her clothes on the hanger to dry, the next moment I come in her room to check on her and she’s fled the house!”