A Love to Heal a Broken Heart: An Inspirational Historical Western Romance Book

by Lilah Rivers

  “Praise,” Amy said. “And as for all this? Let’s just think of it as God’s will.”

  “If it truly is.”

  As Clinton rode up and got off his horse, Pedro raced over to take the horse back to the stable and Jodi and Amy walked out to greet him. Jodi could only hope she wasn’t appearing overeager. But Clinton didn’t even wait to be asked.

  “He’s coming this afternoon,” Clinton told them with a smile that reflected his slight self-satisfaction. “I’ll get the steaks.” He walked past them, giving Amy a little kiss on the forehead before heading into the house.

  Amy looked at Jodi and smiled. “See?”

  Jodi didn’t know what to say. She wanted to be thrilled, and she was, but enjoying that thrill was more difficult and more nauseating than she’d expected.

  “Gee, Amy, I… I dunno.”

  Amy rolled her eyes. “What don’t you know, Jodi?”

  “Well, I only broke up with Giles just over a month or so ago. And that was… it was hard, I’m not going to lie to you. And now, I’m already… I mean, I do admit he’s an estimable man, your sheriff. It makes me doubt myself. Did I really love Giles if I’m not still suffering from his loss? Am I even capable of loving?”

  Amy put her hands on Jodi’s arms and looked her directly in the eyes. “Jodi, you are among the most loving people I’ve ever known. And as for Giles, I’m sure you did love him. But love is… Well, there’s love and there’s true love. You can love a lot of people and in a lot of different ways. But there’s only one true love for every person; and forgive me for saying so, but I just don’t think Giles was your true love.”

  “And you think this sheriff is?”

  Amy shrugged. “Does he have to be? He’s only coming over for dinner, Jodi. It will be a pleasant evening among friends, new and old; that’s all, help take your mind off… other matters. There’s no pressure, other than the pressure you’re putting on yourself. I mean, I’m not sending you off with a dowry!” They shared a little chuckle, but it died away quickly.

  Jodi said, “Surely it’s too much. I don’t bounce from man to man like that, that’s not me.”

  “Bouncing from—? I’d hardly think of your as our own Calamity Jane Canary, Jodi. Look, this is the timetable God chose, or it wouldn’t be happening this way.”

  “Well,” Jodi pointed out, giving it some thought, “God wasn’t the one who asked your sheriff over to investigate a bogus theory of nearby rustlers.”

  “God helps those who help themselves, Jodi, that’s what I’ve always said.”

  “True,” Jodi had to admit, “and God certainly seems to have helped you.”

  “And just after I helped myself.” Amy let a little moment pass before she went on, “And you’re helping yourself, too, Jodi. Coming here, changing your circumstance the way you did—”

  “The way you did. You were a real inspiration to me, both indirectly and directly.”

  Amy shook her head. “But you’re here now, with me. And we’re both just where God wants us to be, I’m certain; side by side, as we were as kids.” After a moment of reflection, Amy added, “Those really were the happiest times of my childhood. I want to thank you for those times, for those years… for that friendship.”

  Jodi rolled her eyes. “Really, Amy, I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

  They sat in a long, curious silence. Finally, Amy said, “Life can be a mystery, Jodi, many mysteries all at once, sometimes it feels like one after another. But not all mysteries are ours to solve, not every riddle has an answer we can see. That’s God’s purview, not ours.”

  Jodi nodded, feeling overwhelmed by it all.

  “I know it’s a lot to think about, Jodi, so… maybe you should try not to think about it. Let God handle the big things, you take care of the details.”

  “The details,” Jodi repeated, looking herself up and down. “My goodness, Amy… what am I going to wear?”

  Chapter 13

  Scott arrived and canvassed the area with Clinton. There seemed good to be had, but Scott was determined to make the most of his visit. There were some tracks near the western portion of the property, and they did resemble human footprints.

  “Could be Pedro,” Clinton reasoned, “or one of the other hands.” The footprints had become so worn and eroded that establishing their size with any reasonable precision was next to impossible.

  “Nobody’s seen anything?” asked Scott.

  Clinton shook his head. “What are you saying, that there really may be rustlers?”

  Scott shrugged as he glanced around. “Rustlers, maybe, or banditos, Apache. Maybe nothing at all, as you said. You keep a dog here?”

  “Used to,” Clinton said, “disappeared. We figured cougar, maybe.”

  Sighing, Scott rubbed his chin. “Taking out your dog would be the first thing rustlers would do.”

  “But… how? We’d have seen or heard something, wouldn’t we?”

  “Not necessarily. Arrow shot, bird call to cover the yelp.” Scott glanced around again. “When did you say the dog disappeared?”

  “About a month ago.”

  He slumped, slightly dejected. “Won’t be much sign now. But these footprints aren’t that old, or we wouldn’t be able to see them at all.”

  “Well,” Clinton said, “I don’t suppose I’ll ever hear the end of this from the little woman.”

  Scott gave that some thought, then nodded.“Her instincts may just have saved your lives. Especially in her current condition, it’s important to keep things tranquil here.”

  “You can say that again,” Clinton agreed, grabbing Scott’s attention. Seeming to read that, Clinton was quick to say, “Well, my wife is so highly strung, at times, as it is. And they say a real lunacy can overtake a woman when she’s with child.”

  It made perfect sense.

  “She’ll also be less physically capable as her season progresses,” Scott pointed out.“It won’t be any time to be fighting off bandits of any stripe or nation.”

  Clinton nodded. “She’s quite early on yet, but you’re right, of course. I’ll hire an extra man, put him on patrol?”

  “Something to consider.”

  For a moment, Clinton stood dumbfounded. “Well, um, let’s go congratulate her over dinner. We’re serving steak, but… I may have to eat crow,” he admitted, and the two men shared a chuckle. “But that’s a husband’s most common meal, eh?”

  Scott’s laughter died away. “I wouldn’t know, I’m afraid.”

  “Indeed not,” Clinton replied quickly. “Odd, for a man of your qualities and in your position. The women of Angeldale must be lining up to be Mrs. Sheriff Scott Covey.”

  Scott huffed and shook his head. “Perhaps. But… well, things are how they are.”

  “For a good reason, perhaps.”

  Scott had to wonder, how does he mean that; that I ought to be alone, perhaps for the very same reasons I’ve justified it all these years? Perhaps we’re both right.

  “I’ve only been married a year, but it’s a decision I’ve never regretted. I thank the good Lord everyday that He sent me woman as good and worthy as my Amy.”

  “And you are to be congratulated.”

  Clinton nodded. “Crow is an acquired taste.” They chuckled again, slowly crossing the property.

  Their walk gave Scott time to reconsider everything he’d been thinking over the past six hours or so. He’d been so smugly certain that this investigation was a ruse to bring him to the ranch, no doubt to initiate a romance between himself and the Burnetts’ new guest. And he hadn’t objected to it, not in the least.

  It was easy to imagine that Clinton had the idea to prevent Jodi from moving in permanently, or that Amy was eager to see her friend happily married. It could even have been, though Scott hesitated to imagine it, that it had been pretty newcomer Jodi herself who had wanted to bring him around for more time to become acquainted.

  I’d even let myself believe it, he had to silently chastise h
imself on the way back to that house, the dinner and the company who awaited him there. What a fool! Can it be that my father really was right, after all? Imagine if I’d confessed my own feelings to discover that the entire matter between us was entirely a figment of my imagination?

  What an arrogant, deluded idiot! I should have known better. I was right all along. This is no setup, this is no burgeoning romance—this is the work of the sheriff of Angeldale and nothing more.

  Chapter 14

  Jodi bit into the spicy local Mexican dish of enchiladas, various meats and cheeses rolled into tortillas and baked in a flavorful red or green sauce and topped with melted cheese. The beans had been fried twice, and they were a mushy, tasty side dish when smothered in cheese. The rice was golden and mixed with chunks of red peppers and tomatoes. Tangy lemonade washed it all down nicely.

  But Jodi was fixed on their other guest, Scott. He was well-mannered, thoughtful and quiet, which drew Jodi’s attention. There had been something right from the beginning which had attracted her, and Jodi hadn’t quite been able to put her finger on what it was. But watching him eat in silence, observant and interested, Jodi thought she knew what that thing had been. There was a certain sadness about him, something she hadn’t seen often in Giles but did vaguely recognize from her cousin, Alice. She had a way of inspiring warmth in people; whether it was a natural gift or just pity for her long list of travails and sorrows, Jodi could never be sure. But seeing another person, a man, who seemed to be living under an invisible cloud did pique Jodi’s interest.

  What happened to sadden him so? Is he widowed? Why isn't he married? What terrible story lurks behind this noble and impressive man?

  But Jodi also knew that such a feeling was not true love, but the same kind of love a child would have for an injured puppy, sad-faced and big-eyed. Still, Jodi was drawn to him, for reasons she was more than ready to take the time to find out.

  “I’m so impressed with Amy,” Jodi said, “insight I surely wouldn’t have had.”

  To this, Scott looked up, nodded, but said nothing, going on chewing his food.

  Clinton replied, “I fall in love with her again every moment of every day.”

  Amy blushed. “I… I really wasn't sure, of course. It was just, um, it came up in conversation, that’s all.”

  “No matter how it happened, the main thing is that we seemed to have caught it in time. Hire a gun to patrol the place, as you suggested, Clinton, and they’ll move on,” Scott said.“These people, criminals, they like an easy mark. If that’s not you, they’ll move on.”

  “Of course,” Jodi put in, “that hardly solves your problem, of defending those who can't afford an extra gun.”

  Scott nodded with a modest half-smile before going on eating. His lack of an answer, his pattern for the entire dinner, was most certainly not lost on Jodi. In fact, she was becoming acutely aware of it, and not minimally annoyed, either. Of course, she knew the best thing to say, and to do, was nothing at all.

  “I’m just grateful we have a sheriff with such adept skills. Imagine coming up with so much after so much time,” said Amy.

  Scott shrugged, taking a sip of lemonade. “I didn’t come up with much, just need for precaution.”

  Jodi suddenly found herself saying, “We all need something.”

  This drew Scott’s attention, but when he said nothing more of it, Jodi’s nervous smile melted away and she went on eating, deciding there and then that she wouldn't speak another word for the rest of the night—perhaps for the rest of her life.

  But while the others chatted, normal and civil and friendly, Jodi felt like her world was falling apart. It was all she could do to understand it, sorting things out in her mind.

  This cannot be my imagination, Jodi told herself, he’s not just being the strong and silent man. He speaks to Clinton and Amy, and he can’t be so ill-mannered that he would speak to them and yet blankly ignore me with every interjection! There's something happening here, something unusual and unnatural, and I think I know what it is.

  Scott, Amy, and Clinton went on chatting, but their voices faded in Jodi’s ear, replaced by her own inner voice.

  He knows, Jodi told herself, just like Amy and I agreed, he knows he’s really here for a dinner date. Find evidence of a rustler? Maybe, or maybe he’s just trying to deflect our group effort to rob the poor man of his bachelorhood.

  Jodi glanced at Scott, but he seemed absolutely unwilling to return her eye contact.

  He knows, there’s no doubt about that; he knows and he’s not interested. He may even be resentful of the position we’ve put him in. And why shouldn’t he be? We conspired to lie to the poor man, and an honest civil servant at that!

  Jodi wished she could excuse herself, but of course she could not. While she didn’t want to be sad, she could hardly help it.

  What must he think of me, Jodi had to wonder. No doubt he feels that this was my idea, that I tricked his otherwise trusted friends to betray him for my own dubious and devious intentions. And how can I tell him, how will I ever convince him that it isn't true? And I really do like the fellow, but he clearly has no interest in me, and I don’t blame him.

  Quietly, she sat at the table, feeling more alone than she ever had even surrounded by three people—one of them her best friend in life. And she didn't want to feel anything but love for Amy, who had gone far out of her way with nothing but generosity and love in her heart.

  But Amy was so confident, Jodi had to think, so certain that her matchmaking would work out. And clearly, it hasn’t! I wouldn't have met him at all if it weren’t for Amy, and I couldn’t have lost what I would never have had. But still, I have lost him, it seems, or the chance to ever have him. And though I love Amy with all my heart, I wish she had listened to me! I knew this was too much, too soon. But that old stubbornness and strength of will had overcome me, as it had so many others, like some great wheel.

  But this time, Jodi thought miserably, it’s crushed me.

  Chapter 15

  “Really,” Scott asked Doyle, “rustlers in Harmond?”

  Doyle shrugged, taking a sip of coffee from his tin cup. “S’what I’m hearin’. Never know.”

  Shaking his head, Scott scratched his chin. “Truer words than those may never have been spoken, my friend.”

  Thoughts of Jodi, of the dinner the night before, flashed in his brain, but Scott tried not to think about them. He was glad to get back to work, doing what he loved, being where he belonged. Being sheriff was dangerous, that was true, but at least the badge sheltered him from other pains—pains that could be even worse than a bullet and, over the long run, just as deadly.

  “Rumors do start to fly,” Doyle said, seeming to have no clue as to what Scott was really thinking. “People see things aren’t really there; suddenly, a pack of coyotes is a group of rustlers.”

  Scott knew that what his deputy was saying was true, but it didn’t mean he was necessarily correct in his theory. “I did see footprints on the Burnett property,” Scott explained, “and their dog did vanish a month ago.”

  Doyle seemed to give it some thought, taking another sip of coffee. “Coyotes?”

  “Coyotes don’t leave human footprints.”

  “Ranch hands do.”

  Doyle had another point, and Scott was gratified to see the young man using his reason and patience instead of merely his boundless energy.

  But Scott couldn’t help reviewing the events of the night before, and that day and even the day before. Did I really misread that Hoffman woman’s glances at me at the train station? And she was quite attentive to me during dinner. Why, if she had no real interest?