A Healing Love for the Broken Cowboy: A Historical Western Romance Book

by Cassidy Hanton

  It could cause Ruby no small amount of pain and shame in town − a single woman did not just move in with her beau. That’s not how things were done.

  Mark nodded as if he understood. “We have several guest rooms,” he offered. “You can stay as long as you like.”

  Isabelle caught the glance exchanged between Ruby and her brother and the silent communication that passed between them. Ruby would stay there forever with Mark if she could. But they both knew that the future was an uncertain and sometimes terrifying thing.

  “As do I,” Harvey said. “The point is that you will have a place to go. You will not be without a home, Ruby.”

  She smiled at them both gratefully. “Thank you,” she said.

  Ruby took another moment to drink her tea, settle her nerves, and compose herself. She finally looked up at them all, her face a mask of grim determination.

  “You are all in danger,” she stated without preamble. “My father − he’s not well pleased with any of you and he plans to take his vengeance.”

  Mark scoffed. “Vengeance for what? For daring to have a dream and pursue it?”

  “For cutting into his profits,” Isabelle said. “And by extension, his esteem. Or so he thinks.”

  “What do you mean?” Harvey asked.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong Ruby, but to a man like Elmer Alford, he derives his sense of self-worth and esteem from money,” Isabelle said. “The more money he has, the more he thinks people respect him. Less money, in his eyes, means people respect him less.”

  Ruby nodded. “That sounds about right,” she said. “Nothing makes him happier than having more money than anybody else.”

  “I think lording all that money over people and being able to tell them he is better than they are because of it makes him pretty happy,” Harvey added.

  “You said we are in danger,” Isabelle said. “What is he going to do?”

  “I overheard him talking to his men,” she said, her voice quivering with fear once more. “He was upset that the attack on your distillery didn’t work, Mark. That was why he had his men leave the cow in your yard, I guess. He wanted you to pack up and leave Stephill.”

  “It’s gonna take more than a dead cow to scare me out of town,” Mark growled.

  “My father finally understands that,” she said, her voice soft. “That’s why he’s planning on burning you out. You too, Harvey. He knows how close you two are and feels that he has to deal with you to be rid of Mark.”

  Isabelle covered her face with her hands, her tears finally starting to flow. Mark moved to comfort her as Harvey sat back in his seat, his face darkening with rage − and a hard, steely determination she had seen on him only a handful of times before. She knew the look and knew that Harvey was going to fight to the last breath to defend his home and his son.

  “I am sorry,” Ruby said when she was sufficiently composed. “I am sorry my father is like this and for what he’s done to you all. You’re good people and you don’t deserve this.”

  “This is not your fault, Ruby. You have nothing to apologize for,” Isabelle said.

  “And you risked your hide to come here and warn us,” Mark said. “That’s no small thing.”

  “When is the attack comin’?” Harvey asked.

  “Tomorrow night,” she said, wiping the tears from her face. “He’s sending some of his men disguised as Indians to set fire to both of your houses and destroy whatever else they can.”

  “Disguised as Indians,” Mark said, his voice thick with disgust.

  “Doesn’t surprise me he’d do somethin’ like that,” Harvey growled. “Frame somebody else to take the fall for his misdeeds.”

  “What will we do?” Ruby asked.

  Mark and Harvey exchanged a look, both of them looking grim and yet determined.

  “Right now, I think you should go up and get some rest,” Mark said gently. “You’ve had a long night.”

  “I’m − I’m scared, Mark,” she replied.

  “You’re safe here, Ruby,” he said. “I promise you that. Nothing and nobody is going to hurt you.”

  “Come on Ruby,” Isabelle said, giving her a small smile as she got to her feet. “I’ll take you to one of the guest rooms so you can get some rest.”

  Ruby took her hand and got to her feet. She gave Isabelle a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. She looked at Mark like she wanted to say something more but she remained silent and let Isabelle guide her upstairs to one of the guest rooms.

  She was out before her head hit the pillow

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “No. Absolutely not,” Mark said. “That is not going to happen, Isabelle.”

  She looked at her brother, frustration flowing through her. Isabelle stood firm though, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. She was not going to be denied. Mark shook his head though, remaining resolute in his statement.

  The yard behind them was a buzzing hive of activity as Mark and Harvey’s men prepared for what was coming that night. Harvey himself was loading some bags into a wagon. Ruby stood with Chenoa and Charley near the wagon.

  “I want you to go with Ruby, Chenoa, and Charley,” Mark said. “I want you to watch over them and −”

  “We both know Chenoa is more than capable of watching over Ruby and Charley,” Isabelle said. “She doesn’t need my help. My place is here.”

  Mark shook his head again. “I can’t have this fight if I’m worried about you, little sister.”

  “And I cannot sit in some hotel room waiting to find out if you are dead or alive, big brother,” she shot back. “This is my home and I will be right where I am needed − defending it beside you.”

  “Izzy, I −”

  “Why have I been training with the guns if I was not ever going to use those skills?” Isabelle said. “And need I remind you, I have gotten quite proficient with them.”

  Mark opened his mouth to reply then closed it again, shaking his head and grunting instead.

  “I don’t want you in harm’s way,” he pleaded.

  “And I don’t want you in harm’s way either,” she rebutted. “But if you are going to be there, then I will be there right alongside you − and Harvey.”

  “Wagon’s ready,” Harvey said as he stepped up beside them. “We gotta get them on the road if they’re going to make Whitebull City before sundown.”

  Mark looked from Harvey to her, his frustration with her painted upon his face. He opened his mouth to order her onto the wagon once more but she held a finger up to silence him before he got started. Her lips were pursed, her chin lifted in defiance, her expression brooking no argument.

  “You will not send me away,” Isabelle said. “This is my home and I will fight for it.”

  Mark looked to Harvey for help with her but the big man just chuckled and shook his head, raising his hands up with his palms out.

  “That’s a briar patch I have no intention of stepping into,” Harvey said, a smile on his face. “What I will say is that she has gotten pretty good with the rifle. And we could use the extra gun on the ground.”

  “Not helping,” Mark said.

  Isabelle looked at him triumphantly and Mark sighed, knowing he had been defeated.

  “Fine,” he said. “But you ain’t gonna be on the ground fightin’. We’ll find you a nice sniper’s nest and you’ll cover us from above.”

  “Fine,” Isabelle said.

  Chenoa had joined them by that point, looking at Harvey with an expression as close to worry as Isabelle had ever seen on the woman. Mark drifted over to Ruby and pulled her into a fierce embrace, the fear and uncertainty on both of their faces more than clear.

  Neither of them knew for sure whether they would see each other again or not and the moment was painful for the both of them. To be so close to finally being together − and yet still so far away from it − had to be agonizing. Isabelle’s heart went out to them.

  “I should be here,” Chenoa said. “You know I can fight.”

  �
��I know you can. Better than me, I’d wager,” Harvey said softly. “But I need somebody I trust watching over Charley. I have no idea how this is going to go down tonight so I need you to protect him.”

  “With my life,” Chenoa said, her voice firm.

  Harvey’s smile was gentle. “That’s exactly why I need you to be there with him,” he said. “Take them into Whitebull City. Stay as far away from Stephill as you can. I don’t want to tip Elmer off that we know he’s comin’.”

  Chenoa nodded. “We should make it before sundown.”

  Harvey nodded. “Go to the Whitebull Grand Hotel. Ask for Arnold Booker. He knows me and he’ll get you set up,” Harvey said. “He’ll take care of everything you need and we’ll send for you when this business is done.”

  Chenoa nodded and put her hand on Harvey’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

  “Be safe,” she said. “The little one needs you.”

  Harvey gave her a smile. “I’ll send for you both directly,” he said. “You be safe on the road.”

  Chenoa’s face was clouded with emotion and she nodded once before turning and heading back to the wagon. She set Charley down on the seat beside her as Mark helped Ruby up onto the other side.

  Chenoa took hold of the reins and got the wagon moving. Isabelle watched them go, watched Ruby looking back at Mark and giving him a small wave as they turned around the bend and finally disappeared from view.

  Mark and Harvey’s men drifted over to them, all wearing gunbelts and holding rifles. They looked like hard men. The kind who were good in a scrap. And for that, Isabelle was thankful. They needed all of the reliable gunhands they could find.

  “This is voluntary. If you don’t want to be part of this fight, leave now. No judgment. This is our fight, not yours,” Mark announced. “If you do stay, you have our appreciation. And I’ll make sure you’re compensated handsomely.”

  One of the men scoffed. “You gave me a job when nobody else would. You treat us good,” he said. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere. My place is here with you.”

  “You’re a good man. Both of you is,” said another, his voice thick with a Southern twang. “It’s my honor to fight for good men for a change.”

  Several of the other men expressed similar sentiments and it filled Isabelle’s heart with emotion. To know that men were willing to fight and die for her brother and Harvey spoke to their character more than mere words ever could.

  And to know that these men were fighting and putting everything on the line not just for the money, but because they believed in the two men she loved best in the world filled her with a renewed sense of confidence that they would indeed carry the day.

  Isabelle believed that men who fought for what they loved and believed in were a force of nature. They fought with a passion men who fought for money did not have. Men fighting for something they believed in committed to that fight in ways mercenaries never would. And though she had only read about war and battles, Isabelle believed that men who fought with passion and commitment won far more often than they lost.

  “You have my eternal respect and gratitude,” Mark said. “Thank you, men.”

  “You have mine as well,” Harvey added. “And when this is over, we’re gonna open up a few bottles of Mark’s booze.”

  That brought about cheers and laughter from the half dozen men who were clustered around them.

  “Who’s hungry?” Isabelle asked. “Because I made a feast for you all.”

  And she had. Isabelle had woken before dawn − not that she had ever really fallen asleep last night anyway − and had started putting together a banquet for any of the men who elected to stay and fight. She thought they all deserved a good meal before the bullets started to fly.

  Mark invited everybody into the house where they partook of the feast. Spirits were high and the crude jokes started to fly as thick as the laughter. Isabelle shook her head and laughed despite herself. She had rarely been exposed to such bawdy behavior before and she found herself blushing intensely. Mark caught her eye and grinned at her.

  “Hey, you wanted to be one of the boys tonight,” he chuckled. “Consider your wish granted. This is how they unwind before a fight.”

  “And there is no place else I would rather be,” Isabelle said to a chorus of cheers from the men.

  Outside, the sun slipped below the horizon and the dark shades of purple and blue lost their grip on the world, plunging it into the unrelenting black of night.

  “Hate to break up the party,” Harvey said. “But it looks like it’s time. Let’s get out to our positions.”

  All at once, the air in the room changed. It shifted from bawdy and outlandish to tense and vibrating with anticipation as the men got themselves mentally ready for the night to come.

  “Let’s move out,” Mark said.

  Isabelle followed behind the group, her heart hammering and her stomach churning. She was determined to fight and defend her home. She was determined to acquit herself well in the coming battle.

  But that did not mean she was not scared.

  Harvey followed her out to the barn where they had positioned her. Up in the hay loft, there were small open windows in all of the walls which gave her a sightline to both properties. From her position, she would be able to see if anybody was approaching Harvey’s house as easily as she could see anybody approaching hers.

  They stopped at the foot of the ladder that would take her up to the hay loft. In the darkness of the barn, Harvey turned to her, his expression grim. She could see he was worried for her.

  “I will be fine,” she said. “I am in a safe spot.”

  He shook his head. “When the fightin’ starts, there are no safe spots,” he said. “Just be sure to keep your head down and don’t frame yourself in the windows. You don’t want to give ‘em a crack at you.”

  She snapped him a salute. “Yes sir.”

  His gaze lingered on hers for a long moment as the emotion and the weight of the unspoken words between them grew thicker than molasses. There was so much she wanted to tell him. So much she wanted him to tell her. So much she wanted them to share. Together.

  Isabelle knew Harvey and Mark did not want to fight. They did not want to hurt anybody and they certainly did not want bloodshed on their land. And she knew they were going to do everything they could to keep it from coming to that.

  Isabelle reached up and laid a hand gently on his cheek, his stubble tickling her palm. She gave him a small smile, trying to convey how she felt for him with her eyes. But she needed to do better than that.

  If everything went sideways tonight, she wanted him to know exactly how she felt for him. She wanted him to know the depth of her feeling. She wanted him to truly understand just what he meant to her.

  But then, as if reading her mind, Harvey put a finger to her lips and gave her a small smile.

  “There will be time for that when this fight is over,” he said. “Once we win, you and I will talk. I have − some things I need to say to you.”

  Isabelle wanted more than anything to hear what he had to say now. She knew if the night went to pot, she would never get the chance to hear what he had to say.

  She took a breath and let it out slowly. She had to have faith that things would turn out right tonight. She had to believe that God would watch over them all and deliver them from the evil that was coming their way.

  Isabelle gave him a nod then stood on her tiptoes and placed a gentle kiss on his scruffy, stubbly cheek. She flashed him a smile.

  “Better go take up your position, soldier,” she said. “The sooner we win this fight, the sooner we can talk.”

  Harvey chuckled. “Yes ma’am.”

  She watched him leave the barn before she scurried up the ladder. Isabelle buckled on her gunbelt then sat down on the crate she had brought up and settled in, waiting for the fight to come to them.

  Sitting in the darkness of the hay loft, Isabelle had lost track of the time. The moon was quite a bit higher in the sky tha
n the last time she checked so she assumed they were beginning to approach the small hours of the night.

  She was grateful for the light of the moon. It was full and bright, casting the world in its silvery luminescence and driving away some of the shadows, making it easier to see.

  She yawned and stretched, trying to work the stiffness out of her muscles. Isabelle moved from window to window, looking out into the night to see. From her position, she could see the men taking shelter behind their barricades, waiting for the fight that was coming.