His Forgotten Fiancée. Evelyn M. Hill

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      “The whole of the Oregon Territory is plagued with these varmints.” She put the broom back in its place with a determined thump.

      “It’s still a large reaction for such a small nuisance.”

      She busied herself with putting food on the table. It was hard to meet his gaze directly. She needed to put some distance between the two of them, to come to terms with the reality of Matthew being back in her life. It was a relief to seize upon a neutral topic. “I can’t abide mice. Over the winter, vermin like that got into my father’s grain stores, ruined near half of it. I have no plans to buy wheat this winter.” No funds to do so, either, but there was no reason to mention this. Matthew nodded, and somehow she had the feeling that he understood what she hadn’t said out loud. She gestured at the table. “Sit. I’ve made biscuits, and there’s some smoked salmon. Granny Whitlow said she would stop at Doc Graham’s place, so the doc should be comin’ by soon to make sure you’re all right.”

      He did not sit down. Instead, his hands curled around the back of the chair and gripped. “I don’t have any money.”

      “I have coin. I can pay him.” See? You need my help. You need me, even if it’s only for a little while.

      “You’ve already given me a bed to sleep in. Now food and medical attention. And I’ve got no way to pay you back. I don’t like accepting charity.”

      That stopped her. She set the crock of butter down with a thump and turned to face him, one hand on her hip. “One thing you’re going to notice about life in this territory—people help each other. Especially when you’ve just arrived. The settlers who were already established helped my father when he came here, and they helped me, too, when I arrived. And now I’m helping you. We can talk about payment for the doctor later, if we must, but right now what you are going to do is eat.” She pointed at the chair.

      His eyebrows rose, but all he said was, “Yes, ma’am.” He took his seat and unfolded the napkin she had provided. “It smells wonderful.” He spread butter on one biscuit and added a spoonful of honey. Liza took one as well, but she only toyed with it, crumbling the edge. She had no interest in food. Though she kept her head down, focusing on her mug of tea, her attention was concentrated on the man sitting opposite.

      He was trying to remember his table manners, clearly, but it was equally clear that it had been some time since he had eaten. He wolfed down the salmon and biscuits and eagerly accepted more. Finally, he put down his fork. “I hadn’t realized how hungry I was. That was absolutely marvelous. Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome.” At least he appreciated her cooking, even if he appreciated nothing else about her.

      He hesitated. “I have to say something, but I don’t want to hurt your feelings. I’ve already thrown you to the floor and offended your notions of kindness. But it needs to be said. Even after that wonderful meal, and the tea.”

      “Granny Whitlow made the tea before she left. She insisted on staying the night, to keep people from gossiping.” She wasn’t sure why she offered that, except that she was fairly sure she did not want to hear whatever unpleasant topic he was going to bring up.

      It worked to divert him. “Wait—you mean you were staying here all by yourself? How trusting are you? You need to be more careful in the future. Whatever happened to me last night, it seems clear there are dangerous people about. And for all you know, I could have been some kind of...unscrupulous man.”

      “You are the farthest thing from unscrupulous.”

      “I might have changed from the man you remember.”

      “People don’t change,” she said. “Not in essentials.”

      “Far too trusting. I am amazed that you’ve made it this far without being hurt. Staying all alone in a place. Smiling at a man. The world is not always a kind and safe place.”

      She was not going to budge him from his opinion of himself, that was plain. She got to her feet. “The McKays should be back today. I’ll tidy up, and we’ll be ready to go if the doc thinks you’ll be up for it.”

      “Go? Go where?”

      “Back to the claim.” She had been reaching for his plate, but she stopped, straightening to look at him. “You can’t stay here with the McKays. There’s no room, with the children and all. You can stay on our claim while you rest up and figure out what to do next.”

      Taking a deep breath, he said, “I need to make something clear.”

      She wiped her hands on her apron and sat down. “That sounds very serious.”

      “I do not want to be in any way unkind, but I want you to understand my position. I appreciate you helping me out last night and giving me a place to sleep and a chance to get cleaned up. I am in your debt. But that doesn’t mean I feel obliged to marry you.”

      The words fell like stones into the quiet room. He stretched his hands out across the table toward her in a plea for understanding. “To me, the man who asked you to marry him and the man who is right here in front of you are two different people. I am a stranger even to myself. I’m in no position to get married.”

      Her chin came up. “If you want to break off our engagement, that is your right.”

      “I cannot renege on an agreement I don’t remember making.”

      “I suppose I can understand that.”

      Liza went back to clearing the table. She needed to do something with her hands. He was rejecting her all over again. And he sounded so reasonable about it, so calm. As if he had never really cared that much for her in the first place. The love that had once blazed between them stronger than anything she had known...not even an ember still flickered beneath the ashes.

      Maybe he felt this way as a result of his injuries, but it still hurt.

      A wall. She pictured building a wall, brick by brick, around her heart as a barricade. She just needed his help on the claim. No emotional entanglements. Strictly business.

      “I—my father and I—need help to get the harvest in. If you would do that, then you could pay off your debt, as you call it. I don’t think you owe me anything, but you’d be doing me a great favor if you did.”

      “I will consider it,” he said slowly. “I am in your debt, without question. So long as you do not consider us engaged to marry.”

      There was that flick of pain again, like a little knife stabbing at her heart. “As if the man I promised to marry were a different person from yourself.” No matter how much it hurt, she would not be weak. She would use the pain to build another layer in the wall around her heart.

      “From my perspective, he is.”

      Add another layer of bricks. “Except I told Granny Whitlow that you were my fiancé.”

      “I’ll deal with the rest of the world later. Let’s get things straight between the two of us first.”

      She wasn’t sure exactly what that meant. She wasn’t sure she wanted to ask, either.

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