Brides of the West: Josie's Wedding DressLast Minute BrideHer Ideal Husband

by Victoria Bylin

  She’d only wanted Jeb to understand how much she loved him, how much she’d always loved him and how they were meant to be together. Surely then he’d ask for her hand in marriage. She’d even dressed for the occasion, hoping he’d notice the way she’d let her hair fall free, and the beautiful dress her aunt had brought for her—especially when she usually only wore rough-and-tumble britches or simple sacklike dresses. Her heart and future had been at stake.

  Bold as the sun in spring, she’d proclaimed her undying love for him in carefully chosen words she’d rehearsed from the time she was a young girl.

  His response? He’d yelled at her. Scowled and motioned her back, saying that she was a distraction.

  She’d run away as fast as her feet, clad in shiny new boots, would carry her. Never once looking back.

  That day, Lydia had learned one very important lesson…never ever let your true feelings be known.

  * * *

  With the distinctly feminine way Lydia had looked this morning in that blue dress, reminiscent of the one she’d worn the day he’d realized Lydia had grown into a stunningly gorgeous woman, Jeb couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

  He couldn’t seem to get back to her fast enough, either.

  He spurred his stallion faster over the road to home, just to make sure she was still there. He half expected that she’d hightailed it out of there as soon as she’d had the chance.

  But she had no place to go. He’d found that out from Mrs. Gussman when he’d been in town just now. Where Lydia expected to stay, he could only guess, but her accommodations wouldn’t be ready for at least a week.

  Jeb dragged in a ragged breath as he rounded a bend in the road. He’d been at the bank, all but begging for another extension on the mortgage, but time had run out and unless he had a huge chunk of the debt paid off within a week, he’d lose the ranch. The brutal truth of what he faced hovered over him like a pitch black cloud, raining down the coldest and cruelest reality. Even if he won the two boxing matches he was scheduled to fight this week, thereby making some hard-won cash, it probably wouldn’t be enough.

  No matter, he’d go down fighting. He had to.

  Facts were facts. His father had mortgaged the ranch to the hilt. There was a legacy of other debts, too, and each person wanted their money yesterday.

  Turning onto the beaten-down road leading to the homestead, Jeb sent a silent prayer heavenward for God’s help. Knowing that Lydia’s father had often prayed for the Gentry ranch gave him a small but definable sense of peace. Hank had been a friend and a father figure when Jeb’s own father had failed.

  Jeb never could seem to please his father, and once Hank had passed on, the displeasure had mounted to overbearing levels. He had the deep dark scars in his soul to prove it, but he’d never let anyone see them.

  Shrugging off the heavy weight of his past, Jeb rode by the tree-crowded meadow, where he’d found Lydia only yesterday. She’d said she had a fondness for the little cabin.

  He did recall once, when she was probably eleven-years-old, he’d discovered her out there, all alone. He’d heard singing, the sweet voice carried through the peaceful meadow on a gentle breeze. When he’d discovered the charming voice to be Lydia’s, he’d stopped, captured by the delightful sound. His young shadow had emerged from the dwelling, engrossed in sweeping the small porch, completely oblivious to the fact that he was close by listening to her lilting melody.

  Jeb stared at the cabin, remembering that endearing scene when life was far simpler. He was reminded, once again, just how in-need-of-repair the ranch had become. Being the sole man left on the ranch, he had little time for maintenance. Some things required a total overhaul and the money needed was nowhere to be found.

  There were areas in his soul in need of a total overhaul, too. And though he’d been finding himself praying some, he had to wonder where all his prayers would lead. Would he ever find the peace and acceptance he longed for?

  The overwhelming feelings of failure and loss that had plagued him the past months were there again, staring him down, demanding concession.

  The hair on the back of Jeb’s neck quivered to alert. His heartbeat quickened inside his chest as he maintained his ground.

  He’d spent enough time in his life, taking hits from his father and walking away with nothing but regret and pain. He had to keep fighting for himself. It was his only chance.

  Chapter Four

  How could Lydia have been so foolish?

  She’d always had a soft spot for the hurting, but this time she’d let her compassion get the best of her. She had to remember that Jeb was lethal to her mind, her soul and her heart.

  Under the cover of darkness, she tiptoed down the stairs, making her way through the house to leave out the back door. She’d tack a note in the barn, thanking Jeb and Sass for their trouble, and then she’d be on her way into town—after she stopped by the cabin and retrieved her box of letters from its hiding place.

  Shifting her daddy’s saddlebag to her other arm, she ignored the dull pain at her side, longing for the day when she could ignore the wound deep in her heart. This afternoon hadn’t helped matters. The hurried way he’d left her sitting on the front porch, his stinging words searing her heart, had left her speechless, dazed and hurt. She’d forgotten all about the saddlebag until just moments ago, when she’d grabbed it on her way out of the house.

  Edging around a thick Ponderosa pine, standing like a steadfast guardian in the backyard, she peered again at the house to see Sass’s lantern burning bright in her bedroom. She started toward the barn, when the sound of voices stopped her in her tracks.

  She paused, her breath catching.

  “Please, don’t do this, Jeb.” Sass’s familiar voice came from just inside the barn, seizing Lydia’s immediate concern.

  She spotted a lantern’s dim glow emerging from the barn’s broad doorway. She could make out Sass’s short frame standing there, and Jeb mounted on his sleek black stallion—the same stallion he’d been breaking that day she’d left five years ago.

  “I’ll be fine.” He reined the horse to face Sass. “I always am. You worry too much, Sass.”

  Sass gave her head a severe shake, holding up the lantern and illuminating Jeb’s face. “You’re going to lose more than you bargained for. You need to think about that.”

  “Everything is going to be all right.”

  The worry etched in Sass’s expression was tangible even from the thirty or so feet away. “I know your father wouldn’t want you doing this.”

  What was Jeb doing that was so bad? Was he spending time at the local saloons, gambling? Or patronizing the brothels?

  A sick feeling hollowed out Lydia’s stomach. Her pulse slammed through her veins as she recalled the conversation about Jeb’s father’s passing, and the almost unaffected way Jeb had dismissed the subject. Usually she was very perceptive to a person’s emotions. Had she misread the look of pain in his gaze?

  “Why wouldn’t he want me doing this?” Impatience tainted Jeb’s deep voice. “Because he did?”

  What had Mr. Gentry done that had been so bad? Except for the occasional meals she and her daddy would share with Mr. Gentry and Jeb at the main house, she hadn’t spent much time around the man. She could recall nothing overtly bad about him, though.

  Lydia’s heart was pounding. She edged back toward the house, the seconds passing like hours. As much as she wished to saddle up and ride out of this place, something was holding her right there on the ranch. Some unseen force urging her to stay long enough to discover the truth of things.

  She owed her father that much. He’d given his life for the success of this ranch. Had Jeb’s decisions or lack thereof, wasted all her father had worked for?

  The thought sickened her even more.

&n
bsp; “Please, Jeb,” Sass pleaded, the broken sound in her voice piercing Lydia’s heart.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Reining his stallion around, he galloped away into the darkness.

  “Just pray. Trust God and pray,” Sass called after him as Lydia hurried to the house, her rapid pulse rivaling the sound of Jeb’s galloping stallion.

  In spite of the suspicion surrounding his departure, Lydia sent a whispered prayer heavenward for Jeb. And even as she did, she felt a gentle tugging at her own heart to trust God once again.

  The feeling gave her a small amount of hope for the future—hope she hadn’t had for a long time. She had to believe that there was a reason for her being back here, far bigger than escaping from her aunt’s controlling clutches.

  * * *

  With all his might, Jeb swung the ax yet again, slicing through another log as though it was a chunk of warm butter. He’d been at it for the past half hour, chopping enough wood to replenish Sass’s supply. Stopping just long enough to get his breath, he leaned his ax against the big stump. He swiped at the sweat beading his forehead, willing his focus from the throbbing pain in his hands and face and his torso.

  Last night’s boxing challenger had been a beast of a man from the Golden area. The opponent had been one of Jeb’s toughest yet. In the end Jeb had won the match, and every last bruise and cut had been worth the cash purse. It wouldn’t come close to paying off the bank, but maybe, if God had heard his prayers, the sum along with what he’d make from a win two nights from now, might just buy him a little more time.

  Swinging his fists for money had been his last resort. One that had kept the ranch afloat. One he’d gladly lay down if only he could save the ranch. But the crowds it drew had grown considerably since he’d started a few months ago.

  He’d lost his very first match. Within the first two minutes, he’d been knocked out cold. After that, he’d been told he needed to drum up some real rage if he had the hope of winning.

  The second attempt in the ring, he’d tapped into a deep well of anger he’d buried in his soul. He’d pictured the way his father, drunk and mad as a cornered badger, would strike him with balled fists, screaming about how life hadn’t been fair, and about how he’s lost at the gambling tables again and how Jeb’s mama would still be there had Jeb not been born. Jeb had won that second match, all right. But the dark, haunting rage that had stayed with him for several days following wasn’t worth the money.

  Finally, he’d used the ranch as his motivation. He’d think about this place and how the fabric of his heart and life had been woven into the land and livestock. That had proved to be all the motivation he needed. Since then he’d not gone down for the count even once.

  “What happened?” Lydia said, startling him. She peered up at his face, her expression pinched with concern and something else he couldn’t quite read.

  Jeb swiped his forehead again in a futile effort to keep the salty sweat from burning into the cuts over his swollen left eye. “What do you mean?”

  She jammed her hands on her slender waist, the willful action sparking his amusement. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Your eyes and mouth and your hands.” She inched closer as though to get a better look. “What happened to you, Jeb?”

  Reaching down, he grabbed the chunk of wood he’d just split, tossing it over to the growing pile. “It’s nothing.”

  “That is not nothing, Jeb Gentry.” She pointed to his face. “Look at you!”

  Jeb gave a weary sigh. He’d heard all of this from Sass dozens of times. “It’s nothing that a couple days can’t fix.”

  “What were you doing?” She was inches from him now, standing on her tiptoes and peering up at his face as though she’d never seen a black eye before. He was sorely tempted to take her in his arms and hold her tight, if only to ease her distress.

  “This doesn’t concern you.” Grasping her shoulders, he gently set her aside then reached for his ax again. “Now, what is it that you came out here for? I have things that need to get done.”

  Lydia grabbed the ax from him, holding it in her quivering hands. “Do you think I can be put off that easily?”

  The concern creasing her expression brought up short his protest. He really didn’t deserve her worry. He’d done this by choice.

  “At least let me take a look at those cuts.” Crossing to the short, wide stump he’d used for cutting wood, she lifted her skirts and climbed on top, gesturing for him to come closer.

  He stood right where he was. “I already told Sass I didn’t need her fussing over me. The same goes for you.”

  “Please. Let me help.” Dropping back down to the ground, she marched over to stand in front of him again. She took his hands in hers and looked them over, her gentle touch like a warm and soothing balm seeping way down to the deepest part of his soul. “I know you’ve got to be hurting. Please,” she pleaded, her eyes glistening in the early morning sun.

  He swallowed hard, shaken by her tender consideration. He knew he should pull away from her now, before his heart sprinted ahead of his common sense, but her touch undermined every argument regarding why he could never have her.

  “Consider it paying you back for tending to me,” she added, her gaze, hopeful.

  He swallowed hard. “You forget that I’m the one who tackled you.”

  “That’s beside the point. Come on, now.” With his hands still in hers, she walked backward, tugging him up to the porch, stretching across the front of the house. She patted the top step. “Sit here…I’ll be right out.”

  The minute she scurried inside, he felt oddly vacant and strangely lacking, as though a piece of him was missing. Jeb cared for Lydia—of that he had no doubt. He’d thought about her nearly every minute since she’d arrived almost two days ago. But she deserved a man who could provide a good living. When the sun went down on her time here, he had to know that he’d done right by her. And the right thing was to deny his heart, so that she could have her heart’s dream—whatever that may be.

  There was only one small problem. He couldn’t ignore the palpable sense of divine providence he’d felt just moments ago when she’d held his hands in hers.

  When the door creaked open, his pulse sped up a notch as Lydia came to kneel beside him. She set down the bowl of water then fished some medical supplies and rags from her apron pocket.

  She dipped one of the rags in the water and raised it to his face, her serious and sympathetic expression making him uncomfortable.

  “You can do this on one condition,” he measured out, angling his head back, far from her reach.

  “What’s that?”

  “No questions.”

  “But—”

  “None.” He held an index finger inches from her full lips.

  She peered down her nose at his finger as though it was a bee ready to sting. When her innocent gaze slid up to his, he couldn’t seem to keep a grin from cocking one side of his mouth.

  “All right.” Her breath whispered over his finger as he pulled his hand away. “No questions. But you can be sure that they’ll keep me awake tonight.”

  “That’s up to you,” he said, shoving off a wince as she gently wiped his swollen and cut brow with her wet cloth.

  Her forehead creased in sympathy. “This looks just awful, Jeb.”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  She paused for a moment and looked at him, her beautiful face so close, the faintest scent of lilies wafting to his senses. “I’m serious. Your eye is almost swollen shut, and the bruising is as purple as a ripe plum.” She set back on her haunches, softly touching his hands. “And your hands—they look like they were trampled by a herd of cattle.”

  “They’re just a little red, that’s all,” he argued, well aware that his knuckles looked ugly and
raw.

  “Your lip looks terrible.” She touched her fingertips against his lower lip, clearly unaware of the knee-weakening effect her touch had on him. “But I won’t ask what happened.”

  “Good,” he said once he finally found his voice.

  “Is there something wrong that you want to tell me about, Jeb?”

  He grasped her hand, angling a friendly kind of warning glance at her. “Only that you keep asking questions when you promised otherwise.”

  “How can I leave this place when you’re getting yourself into trouble like this?” she argued, a little defensively.

  “So you’re staying longer?”

  “Maybe just another night—that is, as long as it’s—”

  “Fine by me.” Unexplainable relief flooded him at that news. She really did complicate matters for him, but he welcomed the complication. “I know Sass would like for you to stay, too. She probably loves having some female company out here,” he said, watching as she opened a small brown jar of salve. “I thought you might want to know, I’m thinking about cleaning up that cabin you like so well.”

  Her wide-eyed gaze shot out to the road then shifted to him. “When?”

  “As soon as I can.” His labors might be for not if he lost the ranch, but if it’d make her happy to see the cabin fixed up, then it’d all be worth the effort. “Maybe tomorrow if I can squeeze it in.”

  Lydia blinked several times, as though dust had just flown into her eyes, but the day was perfectly still. “Some of my fondest memories come from that cabin,” she whispered, giving him the smallest peek into what made her tick.

  But before he could make his way into that small opening, she continued with, “I do hope your eye doesn’t get infected, Jeb. Did you make sure you cleaned it after you…” she prompted, as though waiting for him to finish her thought.

  “Cute trick, but I’m not falling for it.” When he shot her a wry grin, the cuts inside his mouth burned.

  “Do you blame me for trying?” Lydia raised her brows as she gently dabbed some salve on the cut above his eye.