His Forgotten Fiancée. Evelyn M. Hill

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СКАЧАТЬ no matter how often she’d made it clear that she had no interest in him. Dealing with him had been awkward enough when she had only been paying off Pa’s IOU. Once he learned that her fiancé was in town, it would be a thousand times worse.

      She couldn’t face his reaction to the news. Not tonight, when she was still trying to come to terms with Matthew being back in her life. Perhaps by morning, Matthew would remember who he was, who she was. What they had meant to each other. All she knew for sure at this moment was that she needed to talk to him before she could decide how to handle Mr. Brown’s reaction to the news. She went to the front door and held it open. “Please don’t let me keep you.”

      “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, when you’ve had more time to consider. I know you’re a stubborn little lady, but I’m sure by morning you’ll understand that I only want what is best for you.”

      From her place by the fire, Granny called out, “You’ll be wanting to go back to the hotel before you lose your chance of supper. I don’t know why you don’t just board with some respectable family instead of paying all that money to stay at that fancy new place, but that’s young men for you. Always have to present a good image to the world.”

      Mr. Brown opened his mouth to speak, then he shut it again, pressing his lips together. Anger stained his cheeks with bright red patches. Abruptly, he turned and left.

      Liza shut the door behind him and bolted it. She leaned against it, closing her eyes for a moment, and a sigh escaped her.

      “There’s a man who dearly likes to get his own way.” Granny’s dry voice came from behind her. “Mr. Brown won’t be happy until he’s gotten your claim for the Baron.”

      “That’s what I am afraid of.” Liza sat down in the other rocking chair and wrapped the quilt tightly around herself. “I don’t know what to do about the harvest.” There. She had said it out loud.

      “Why is that man so set on your claim? He’s bought up most of the claims around. You’d think he’d be satisfied.”

      She shook her head. “He wants to please the Baron. He thinks if he goes through me, Pa will agree to sell the claim.”

      “That’s true enough. Whole town knows your pa would do anything for you.”

      “For me, yes.” It never occurred to him to let her share the burden. That was part of the problem. Granny was looking at her, eyebrows raised, so Liza explained further. “After my mother’s death, Pa left me with my aunt in Iowa while he came out here and threw all his energy into building a new home for us on the claim. I think it helped him deal with his grief, as well as giving him a way to provide for me. It was his legacy, he always said.” She did not want to think of what losing the claim would do to him. He would feel a failure, not just as a farmer but as a father.

      “Come sit by me and say your prayers, child.” Granny spoke gently, instead of in her usual acerbic tone. “Let the Lord carry your troubles for the rest of the night.”

      It was good advice, but Liza found that she was not able to stop worrying. The fire was getting low—a log sank down into a bed of glowing embers. She settled into the other rocking chair, wrapped a thick quilt around herself and stared into the embers.

      Why had Matthew taken so long to come to her as he’d promised? She had waited, first hopefully, preparing the loft in the cabin for two people. Then anxiously, wondering if something had happened to him. She had no way of knowing where he had gone, exactly. Just a hastily scribbled note saying he was going to find gold and that he would come to her in the spring. Months had gone by, and not a word from him.

      She was familiar with the feeling of being left. After Pa had headed off west, she had waited back in Iowa for three years before he had sent for her. Even though his concern had been to make sure there was a proper home for her, he had left her. That awkwardness still lay between them. They never spoke of it, but she could tell sometimes, when he was in one of his moods, that the guilt weighed on him. She still struggled with her anger at being left behind.

      She had traveled the Oregon Trail with a respectable family that her pastor had introduced her to. They had been kind enough, though preoccupied with their own affairs. She hadn’t realized how lonely she had felt until she met Matthew. He had been traveling without family, too, and somehow that had formed a bond that had quickly strengthened into something stronger. Or she thought it had. He’d asked her to marry him. He said he loved her. Had he changed?

      The memory of those dark eyes, looking straight at her with no sign of recognition at all... She shivered, despite the quilts. One thought chased another through her mind until at last she fell back to reciting her favorite psalms to calm herself. Finally, she slept.

      The next thing she noticed was sunlight falling warm on her face.

      Granny bent over a kettle hanging by the fire. “Good morning. I just checked on your man. He’s still sleeping, but his color looks good. I’m thinking he’s not hurt that badly. Looks like he’s not been eating regularly, worn himself down.” She patted Liza on the shoulder. “The tea is almost ready. I’ll be back later, see how you’re getting on.” She must have read the apprehension on Liza’s face, because she added, “You’ll be fine. The Lord knows what He’s doing.”

      It was quiet after Granny left. Liza stood in the middle of the room. She could hear early-morning noises outside: birds singing, the occasional rattle of wheels as a wagon rolled by. From the back room, nothing but silence. She had to face him. She was dreading it. To put off the inevitable, she whipped up a batch of biscuits. While they were baking, she combed out her hair, braided it and pinned it up into a crown around her head. Her mother had always told her that her light blond hair was pretty, but Liza found it annoying. It was too fine. Wisps slipped out of the braid despite her best efforts.

      Dallying over her hair was only putting off the need to go in and talk to Matthew. She straightened up and put her shoulders back. She had walked the length of the Oregon Trail. She was not going to fail at the end.

      Despite her resolution, it took an effort to knock on the door to the back room. When there was no response, she opened the door tentatively. No sound came from the blanket-covered mound on the bed. She pushed the door open wider.

      She laid down his folded clothes at the foot of the bed, putting on top of the pile the comb and the newfangled harmonica that she’d found in his pockets. That was all he had had on him, no money or identification.

      He didn’t move, so she took a couple steps closer. She studied him as if seeing him for the first time. He’d always been thin, but now he was downright skinny. His cheekbones stood out prominently, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

      Under the quilt, his legs twitched as if he were about to run. He looked so like a boy, with that strand of dark hair across his forehead. A troubled boy. Whatever he’d been doing, he’d not had an easy time of it.

      Unexpectedly, tenderness welled up inside her. She smoothed the hair away from his face. Very lightly, she trailed her fingertips across his warm skin. She smiled.

      His eyes flew open. Dark eyes, fierce as a hawk, stared straight into hers. Then he moved swiftly.

      She found herself flat on her back on the floor, with those fierce eyes intent upon her and his hand at her throat.

      * * *

      He was back at Dutch Flat. Vince was still alive, making silly jokes, walking backward down the alley and smiling at him СКАЧАТЬ