A Love Behind The Broken Mask (Western Historical Romance)

by Lydia Olson

  “Do you wanna know what I think?” Wilson asked, leaning back to look at the sunset.

  “About Daddy?”

  “Everything you just told me,” he clarified. “Earlier, I mentioned how your brother was always more protective of you. He was the one always yelling at the workers for trying to holler at you, or even yelling at me for convincing you to do things that got us in trouble. He never did figure out that Ryan was often the mastermind behind it – but that’s beside the point.

  “I know your father used to worry that he wasn’t doing enough to raise you. He apologized to me, once, for Edison yelling at me, and he laughed that I was ten years Edison’s senior and he still wasn’t afraid to yell at me. He believed that Edison felt the need to protect you because he recognized that your father didn’t understand you as well as he did. And your father agreed.

  “I think losing Edison put your father in a position where he had to take on that protective nature, not only because he couldn’t protect one child, but because he knew Edison had always protected you. Without Edison to guide him, I think he’s worried he won’t be able to care for you. And, because he doesn’t fully understand you, he’s struggling to figure out what to do.”

  “I didn’t know you knew about that,” Eloise told him. “Yeah, Edison was my baby brother, and I never would’ve let anyone believe anything otherwise. I would never show that I was relying on somebody else to protect me. But in a lot of ways, he was the protector – for all of us. He used to march around the entire property every night to make sure no bandits were lurking nearby, and he would be the one to chase them away if they were. Sometimes, I wish he was still here, just so... well, never mind.”

  “I know it’s hard to lose those you love. We often don’t realize the special spaces they held in our lives until we are without them,” Wilson pointed out.

  “No,” agreed Eloise calmly. “I don’t think that’s true, for me. I knew exactly what I was losing as soon as I heard my brother was gone... just like I did when you left.”

  “When I left?” Wilson repeated. “You don’t mean to say you were troubled when I left?”

  “Well, of course I was!” she yelled, smacking his chest with the back of her hand. “What did you think, I was just gonna be happy when my best friend left town – without saying goodbye?”

  “But Ryan was still here,” argued Wilson. “I truly didn’t think it would bother you, at least not for long.”

  “Yeah, don’t remind me,” she muttered.

  “I apologize if my actions caused you any grief,” he said, wrapping an arm around her.

  Eloise raised her eyebrows and stared down at his hand on her shoulder in amazement. She was certain this wasn’t the first time he had comforted her in this way, but it felt different, now.

  Eloise slowly shifted her gaze from his hand on her shoulder to his eyes staring down at her. Butterflies rose in her stomach. She wasn’t expecting him to be staring at her, which caused her to jump and look away before he could see that she was blushing.

  “Everything alright, there?” Wilson hugged her tighter. “You seem a little nervous.”

  “I-I’m fine,” she assured him, still looking down.

  “I have been meaning to ask,” he said. “Is there something else going on with you? It can’t just be your father’s poor taste in jokes that’s gotten you all in a twist.”

  “Um.” Eloise searched desperately for an excuse. “It must be that I didn’t sleep well enough...?”

  “Ah,” he allowed. “Ellie... there was something else I wanted to say – when you were talking about your brother, and feeling that you’ve lost your protector...”

  “Yes?” she prompted, looking up to meet his gaze once more.

  “Well... I should like – if you’re interested – to fill that role...?” he suggested, nervously. “Will you let me be your protector?”

  “Oh,” Eloise said, biting her lip. “I... don’t know what to say.”

  She stared, captivated, into Wilson’s vibrantly blue eyes. If the eyes really were the windows to the soul, she thought, he must be feeling the same way she was.

  He shifted his arm around her and drew slowly nearer to her face, luring Eloise in with his pleasant aroma. In this moment, Eloise felt entirely at peace. She forgot all her troubles and longed only to be nearer to Wilson, always.

  Just before their lips could meet, a loud bang startled them apart. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as the clattering of pots and pans continued from just behind them. Eloise slowly turned around, just enough to see two pairs of shoes. Her heart sank. If the other set of shoes belonged to her father, this evening wasn’t going to end well.

  “Come and get it!” Chef Dale yelled.

  “In a moment, Chef,” Dillion’s voice said. “If you would, please excuse us for the time being.”

  “Meat’ll only stay warm for another ten minutes – but as always, it is at your discretion, sir,” Chef Dale told him, emotionlessly.

  “We’ll be right along,” Dillion replied cheerily.

  Eloise listened to the chef’s footsteps disappear, refusing to turn around. She didn’t think that she needed to turn around to know what her father was going to say, for she could feel his disappointment in his silence. Wilson did not seem to think the same. He quickly stood and turned to face to Dillion, leaning casually against a support beam as if nothing had happened.

  “It’s getting dark,” Dillion said, accusingly.

  “Yeah, but it was a beautiful sunset – wasn't it, Ellie?” Wilson asked.

  “Yes, but you’ve been gone some time, so you may not know – there's often trouble on the roads the later it gets into the night,” Dillion explained.

  “Really?” Wilson said. “I was on this road just last night, and I didn’t see anything.”

  “You’re lucky you didn’t,” said Dillion. “You might not have made it back today if you had.”

  “Ah, well, I appreciate your concern, Mr. Hastings, but I’m a good shot and a quick draw,” he assured the older man. “I’ve seen my fair share of bandits in these parts.”

  “Might be better if we avoid the trouble altogether and send you on your way now,” Dillion suggested. “Save you a couple bullets, at least.”

  “Right,” Wilson affirmed, nervously backing down the steps. “That’s okay with me, and I can get something to eat back in town. Wouldn’t wanna trouble you anymore. But thanks for having me.”

  Eloise remained seated on the steps, preparing to dash away the moment her father finished speaking with Wilson. She had yet to look at Dillion, but she could hear in his voice that she was about to get a stern talking to as soon as their guest was gone. With her head down, Eloise exchanged a nervous glance with Wilson as he turned toward the stables to prepare his horse.

  “Did I just see... what I think I saw...?” Dillion asked her as soon as Wilson was out of earshot.

  “And what do you think you saw, Daddy?” Eloise retorted angrily.

  “It looked like you were about to –”

  “What, Daddy?” Eloise shrieked as she wheeled around to stare him in the face. “Because all you saw was someone very dear to me coming outside to comfort me after you made me look like a fool in front of him! Why couldn’t you just leave me be?”

  “Comfort you?” Dillion scoffed. “He sure has a strange way of comforting you!”

  “Yeah, well, at least he doesn’t try to sell me to the neighbor,” she countered, crashing into his shoulder as she stormed past him and into the house.

  “Ellie!” she heard him call after her. “Ellie, you aren’t listening to me!”

  She responded to her father’s pleas by slamming her bedroom door. She knew it was impolite, but she didn’t care. So much rage, confusion, and doubt swirled around inside her that she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

  She threw herself face-down on her bed, sobbing and screaming into the mattress. When she had calmed down enough to stop screaming, but not en
ough to stop sobbing, she felt Piper’s soft coat brush against her arm as the cat curled up beside her.

  Piper stared blankly at Eloise, almost as if she, too, was judging her. In everything, wherever she turned, Eloise was powerless. Now, more than ever, she feared what tomorrow would bring.

  Chapter Eight

  “Ellie!” Dillion said, knocking on her door the next morning. “Ellie, it’s Wilson. I thought you might like to know he’s come back to see you.”

  Eloise gasped and threw herself out of bed. She’d refused to leave her room all morning, telling Henry when he’d come knocking that she wasn’t feeling well. Now, however, was different.

  She ran her fingers through her hair and quickly pulled it back into a ponytail. Her eyes were still puffy and her hair was still greasy, but she didn’t care about any of that as long as she got to see Wilson.

  “Ellie?” she heard Wilson say from the other side of the door. “I heard you weren’t feeling well. Should I come back tomorrow?”

  “No!” Eloise replied quickly, throwing the door open. “I’m all right, now.”

  “Are you sure?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You look like you’ve had an allergic reaction.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Uh... maybe that was it...”

  “Anyway, have you eaten?” he wondered. “Your father said you hadn’t been acting yourself, and he was worried when you didn’t come out of your room for breakfast.”

  “He’s the one who isn’t acting himself,” she muttered. “But no, I’m fine. I was exhausted, and Daddy was treating me like a child again. I didn’t much like it.”

  “Yes, he was rather confused,” Wilson confirmed, leading Eloise to the parlor. “When I came back around with my horse, he asked me if you told me why you’re so upset with him.”

  “You didn’t tell him anything, did you?” she asked.

  “I told him what I knew, which isn’t much,” he said. “He seemed confused, because he didn’t mean to say you couldn’t see me again – he said he was genuinely worried about the roads. He thought it was odd when you ran off, because you didn’t let him finish his sentence. I assured him that you needed sleep and then you’d be well again, and I said I’d come back in the morning to check in on you.”

  “Oh, I thought...” Eloise began. “I guess I didn’t give him the chance to explain himself before I dashed off, but there’s been a lot... going on lately, and he hasn’t been acting himself. It’s hard to talk to him when he’s so far from normal. It’s like talking to a stranger sometimes.”

  “He did think – well,” Wilson interrupted himself, laughing. “He did think I was making you uncomfortable by comforting you so ‘closely,’ as he put it... he thought maybe it was me who’d upset you. I assured him that wasn’t the case, but still, I have to be sure. I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?”

  “No, of course not,” she assured him, turning pink in the face. “Um, that was... that was fine.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Wilson said. “Now, I wonder if Jay Dale is still as slick as he was before. Should we see if we can sneak something from the kitchen – like we used to do as kids?”

  “Right from under his nose, too,” she recalled. “Oh, I miss that. Ryan never wanted to do it after you left, because he thought it was silly to sneak food out when we could just wait and eat it with the rest of the men at mealtimes.”

  “He never understood the thrill of the sneaking,” agreed Wilson.

  “There’s a lot of things he never understood. He only ever wanted to talk about things and make plans to carry it out – but he never actually wanted to do any of it,” she complained. “Do you remember that time he tried to convince us to sell that bracelet he made out of bottlecaps to my daddy?”

  “Oh, yeah!” Wilson said. “Looking back at how sure he was of the plan he had, with the information I have now, I think he would’ve made a terrible businessman.”

  “That’s exactly what he is!” she told him, laughing. “Since then, he’s gone into business trying to buy and resell farming equipment, and Daddy is always the first man he tries to sell it to. I don’t know why he targets my daddy – maybe because Daddy’s too nice to tell him to stop – but he’s never gotten any better at it. And he never sticks to any one product.”

  “You lose a lot of money that way,” Wilson pointed out.

  “Yeah, and to think Daddy wants me to – uh, help him with that...” she said, catching herself before she mentioned the proposal.

  “Wow, he used to trick you into so many things! And somehow, I always took the blame for it,” said Wilson. “But I didn’t mind, because it was always good fun to torment you.”

  “Hey!” Eloise scolded.

  Laughing, Wilson darted into the parlor to avoid her tendency to hit people when they teased her. Eloise darted in after him, smiling, but the smile faded away the moment she entered. Wilson laughed for a moment longer, but he stopped when he noticed her frozen in her tracks, staring straight ahead.

  “Oh, speak of the devil!” Wilson said, turning to see what she was staring at.

  Ryan sat in Dillion’s armchair, glaring at them. Eloise felt the knot in her stomach grow tighter, threatening to make her vomit. Wilson, the only one ignorant of the proposal, smiled and extended his hand toward Ryan. Ryan reluctantly shook his hand, but it was obvious his smile was forced.

  “Good to see you again, my friend,” Ryan said. “It’s been a while.”

  “Yes, it has,” Wilson agreed.

  “Sorry, but you said, ‘Speak of the devil,’ when you saw me...?” prompted Ryan.

  “Oh, right – it was nothing bad; I swear!” Wilson assured him. “Ellie was telling me how you’ve gone into business like I have, so we were talking about your endeavors with farming equipment.”

  “I haven’t ‘gone into’ anything,” Ryan corrected. “It’s more of a hobby. I’m about to own nearly half of all the land in Cayenne, so I thought I better learn about the farming business starting with something small – like equipment – to master that side of the industry.”

  “Right, you believe in the ‘mastering’ of the arts,” Wilson said. “It’s odd how little you’ve changed from how you were growing up.”

  “I wish I could say the same of you, but you’ve obviously picked something up along your travels...?” said Ryan, gesturing at Wilson’s suit.

  “Oh, this...?” he asked, touching his coat. “No, this is just the style businessmen wear in California now. It wouldn’t make sense for a farmer, though, so don’t worry too much over it.”

  “I wasn’t worried,” Ryan huffed. “I simply deduced that you’d had a change in career paths if you dress like this, compared to how you looked last I saw you. It’s a dramatic change in attire for someone who used to wear rags and eat table scraps as a boy.”

  “Ryan, Ryan, Ryan...” Wilson said, placing his hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “If you’re gonna try to sound so eloquent, you’re gonna need to work on getting rid of that accent.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Ryan replied, raising an eyebrow.

  “See? There you go again,” said Wilson calmly. “You’re talking like a sophisticated adult, but the drawl in your accent just doesn’t match. Your voice has to match your words if you want them to sell – nobody who’s anybody is gonna take you seriously like that. I’m just trying to help you out.”