Beautiful Heart
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“What do you mean, the horse is yours?”
“The horse has been mine for a long time. It was my grandfather’s mount and he gave it to me when I became a man.”
That didn’t sound right at all, but there were some things a woman couldn’t understand about a man—especially a ranch hand who worked with horses every day of his life. He was proud of that horse as much as she was.
She had never heard anyone say such a thing before. “But what kind of name is Beautiful Heart? That’s not a very manly sounding name if you ask me.” She knew it was just her opinion though because no one else had ever cared enough to ask why a horse was named Beautiful Heart.
In fact, none of them knew anything about the old horse except its owner’s favorite saying. It made no sense for this man to lie to her like he had, but then again, men did lie sometimes.
He shrugged. “There are some names given by our ancestors that have nothing to do with their personality or character, and everything to do with where they come from. The Spanish word ‘Brazos’ means heart or soul in English, so I chose the name to remind me always that a good man must care about his people.
” He glanced away for a second and seemed deep in thought for a moment before continuing. “I guess it also reminds me to be humble and honest even when I don’t feel that way myself. My father used to tell me to remember that we can’t take credit for all that God gives us. We should share whatever gifts we have with others instead of being greedy.”
Her eyes welled up with tears thinking how much those words meant to him, how much he cared for his family and the other ranch hands. “You’re a very wise man, Mr. Hodge.”
He smiled slightly. “Thank you.” Then he looked down at the ground for a minute. “It makes me sad to see the state of this place. If you’ll wait here for me, I’ll get your bags.”
She followed him back toward the house, leaving the front door open for any other guests to come inside. They stepped into the kitchen together, and he went straight to her trunk and lifted it onto the counter. She stood beside him in case she might need something from her bag, although there wasn’t much left.
Her clothes, purse, makeup bag, and jewelry box. That was all. But it still took a little while for him to pull out what she needed and hang it on a wire pegboard behind her.
Finally, he turned around. “Do you know what you’d like to eat for breakfast tomorrow morning?”
“Just coffee will do for now,” she replied.
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” He handed her her suitcase and a small wooden box that held her jewelry. “And Miss Johnson told me you’re a vegetarian. There are plenty of fruits, vegetables, nuts, and grains to choose from.”
He started opening cabinets looking for bowls and plates. “Is there anything you can’t eat?” he asked.
“No, I’m not allergic to anything, but I’ve never liked the taste of meat anyway.” She picked up the jewelry box. “Here’s all my money and valuables.” She handed him two bills. “Would you mind counting this?”
“Of course.” He counted it twice and put it in her purse along with her wallet.
After he finished packing everything, including the food, in one of the cupboards, she thanked him again for his kindness and hospitality. “It looks like you have a lot of work ahead of you. I hope you don’t mind if I help you with some of it.”
He laughed quietly. “I don’t think anyone would mind that.” He glanced over at her purse sitting on the counter. “Where is your gun?”
She pulled her handbag from her shoulder and showed him her revolver. “I carry this everywhere I go.”
He shook his head. “You shouldn’t carry a weapon like that with you unless you plan to use it.”
“My life isn’t worth very much these days, so I have to protect it.” It sounded more like an excuse than a reason, and it only angered her further, but she refused to let her frustration show. “If you’re worried about it, you can hold it until I leave.”
He took the revolver from her and placed it in the drawer below the sink. Then he closed the cupboard door and locked it. “That will certainly keep you safe.”
She wanted to argue with him about keeping her gun out of sight but decided against it. For some strange reason, she was starting to trust this man and didn’t want him to think she was hiding something. “So I guess I’ll see you in the morning?”
His smile warmed her heart. “I look forward to it, ma’am.”
They said goodbye to each other and then headed off in opposite directions.
***
As soon as they were outside of her room, Sarah felt relieved to be rid of him. He had been a perfect gentleman, and yet it was difficult to relax with him around. And she knew why. It had been so long since someone treated her kindly, she was almost afraid to feel comfortable around him. But the longer he stayed, the easier it became.
Maybe she could get used to a new kind of life, where she was protected rather than feared. One that made her happy, where she could live without worrying about whether a killer was after her. Or maybe that wouldn’t happen—that she’d find something else to worry about, but for now, she would give it a try.
But first, she needed to check on her brother. She went down the hallway and knocked on his door before pushing it open and stepping inside. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling while reading. He must have heard her because he glanced up at her and waved. Then he looked back down at the book.
“Are you feeling better?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you for asking,” he replied without looking up. “How did you know?”
“Because I’m your sister.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “Now tell me what happened yesterday.”
She watched him for several moments before he finally opened the book to another page. “The same thing always happens when we visit. Someone gets angry or upset with us for some reason and tries to kill me.” He stopped reading and closed the book. “It started when I was six years old, and I just want it to stop.”
“We’ll do everything we can to make sure you’re safe.”
“But will it really work? Will there ever be peace for my family again?”
She hated seeing him so sad. “I wish I had an answer for you, but I don’t.”
A tear rolled down his cheek and landed on his chest. “What are people like these days anyway?” he asked. “Why does no one care about the families who suffer?”
She wiped away the tear. “I’m sure most of them have good intentions, but it’s impossible to please everyone.”
He looked straight into her eyes. “But why is it always my family’s turn for bad luck?”
That was a question she hadn’t asked herself in a very long time. “Some things can’t be changed,” she told him. “All we can do is pray for better times and keep going one step at a time.”
***
Sarah spent the afternoon helping Joe with chores, but even though she tried to hide it, she couldn’t stop thinking about Mr. Johnson and what he meant by being careful.
For the rest of the day, she avoided her father so he wouldn’t ask any more questions about her conversation with Mr. Johnson. When they ate dinner, she was determined not to talk about it either, and thankfully he seemed content enough to talk about other matters and forgot all about her meeting with the cattleman.
But later that night when she climbed into bed, Sarah found it hard to sleep. The only thing on her mind was Mr. Johnson. How could one simple word mean so much? If anything happened to her family, would he still be able to protect them?
What if he had lied and it turned out there was nothing he could do? That thought filled her with such hopelessness that it took her hours to fall asleep.
***
The next morning Joe went out on one of the ranch hands’ horses to drive a herd of cows from the lower pasture to a distant field where they were to graze through winter. Sarah followed on foot and helped watch over the cattle, along with her brothers and two hired men. She also carried a loaded revolver, ready to fire if needed.
After watching the sun rise above the horizon, she returned home to wash up for breakfast. She put on her best dress for the company and made sure she was presentable before heading downstairs and finding her father in the kitchen eating cereal.
“Good morning, sir,” she greeted him as she walked past on her way to the sink to wash dishes. He stopped chewing and glared at her. “Where are you going?” he demanded to now.
“To the barn with the boys.”
“Didn’t we agree last night that you weren’t allowed to ride alone anymore?”
She stared at him, unable to comprehend how he could change his mind in such a short time. “If you don’t let me go now, then I won’t come back at all,” she told him. “You can send someone else to watch the cattle if you don’t trust me.”
Her father sighed and shook his head before turning back to the bowl of cereal in front of him. But it wasn’t until Sarah grabbed her gun belt and headed toward the door that he finally got up to follow her outside.
Outside, she mounted her mare and rode around to meet her brothers before returning to the yard and leading the herd of cows away from the ranch house. After riding for a couple minutes, she noticed three riders coming down the road behind her.
They slowed their horses as they approached the herd, which gave Sarah time to notice they all wore guns at their hips. A single shot rang out. One of the cows took off running, and her mother cried out as she chased after it.
She looked around for a place to hide and saw the barn. The cowboys rode to a halt and dismounted as she led her horse inside. There was one empty stall left so she quickly put her mare inside and locked the door.
The next minute felt like an eternity as she waited for them to find the barn and break in. When a man walked in with a rifle and looked directly into her eyes, she was terrified. He stepped close, bent over, and picked up a piece of rope. “Come on,” he ordered. “We don’t want this animal breaking loose in the main pasture.”
She followed him to the corral gate where her father stood waiting with the other cowhands. She knew he was probably just as relieved to see her safe. At least, she hoped so.
The cowpuncher led his team of horses across the corral and drove them through the small opening at the end. Sarah watched them go until the last one disappeared through the hole before pulling out her revolver and looking around for anyone who might need help.
It didn’t take long to spot a man with blood streaming down his face. Two others had also been hit; one was dead while the other was still groaning in pain.
She ran to his side and knelt beside him. “Mr. Johnson, are you okay?” she asked in a soft voice as he clutched his chest.
He opened his eyes and gasped for air. “Who did this?” he croaked.
“The men you hired,” she replied.
He nodded weakly and then started coughing again.
A few minutes later, she heard the sound of hooves pounding across the dirt and knew it wouldn’t be long before they arrived. But she couldn’t get up and run. Instead, she pulled a bandage from her pocket to try and staunch the flow of blood coming out from between Mr. Johnson’s fingers.
“What happened here?” Joe asked as soon as he caught sight of the dead men and the injured cowhand. “Was it an attack by bandits?”
Sarah didn’t think it was a coincidence that they should happen upon their killers. She wondered why the gunmen hadn’t simply killed everyone, including the hired men. “I don’t know,” she admitted as she wrapped the makeshift bandage tighter. “One of them was shot while driving cattle, but not before he tried to shoot my father.”
Joe looked at her and shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense, either,” he said quietly. “They were only hired hands, and there’s no evidence to suggest the attackers even know we have cattle at our ranch.”
She agreed with his assessment and knew that her father would not approve of her riding off on her own to investigate. But if it came to it, she would leave without telling him or anyone else. This was too important to waste any more time, although leaving might cause problems with her father. She wasn’t worried about losing her job because she wasn’t really doing much anyway.
After helping Mr. Johnson wrap up the bloody cloth, she went back outside. She needed to speak with her father alone and ask him what happened to make him decide against hiring new guards. What if he had reconsidered and now regretted that decision? If that was the case, she’d have to tell him she had left.
Joe looked at his wife and smiled. “Let’s go inside and call for Doc Smith,” he suggested. “Then you can explain to us both what happened while we wait for the doctor.”
But when they returned to the house, the doctor was already examining one of the fallen cowhands. Sarah didn’t hear anything that was said, except that Joe had been right. It did seem odd that these men would ride so far west to kill someone they barely knew—especially since their motive appeared to be nothing more than robbery.
Her father had mentioned something about a disagreement over money, but that made little sense unless they had been hired for some sort of hit. Maybe it was something personal; perhaps they hated the victim for reasons other than business.
She thought of how upset Mr. Johnson seemed when he told her he was going to hire new cowhands, and she realized that the gunmen could have wanted revenge. Then again, it might not be related to the cattle business at all.
She watched the doctor and then turned away when it became obvious that he wouldn’t be able to do much good. The man must have died a short time later because no one ever mentioned him again.
Joe’s attention shifted to the wounded man in the barn. “Doc Smith says his wound is superficial,” he explained. “Nothing serious.”
Sarah felt a sudden wave of relief sweep over her. Now she wouldn’t have to worry about being attacked in her own home while trying to protect her father. She had done all she could and was prepared to say goodbye to this strange place as well as this life.
Her father walked toward her as she sat at the table writing letters of introduction. He stopped behind her chair and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. “You’re safe now, Sarah,” he said softly as he reached for her chin and tilted it so he could look into her eyes. “No more worrying,” he continued. “I’m sorry I doubted your ability to handle yourself. You were always a capable child.”
For once, Sarah believed him and knew he meant it. But she also understood that if he hadn’t come across such a strong-willed woman, none of this would be happening—and neither would the danger she had endured. “There won’t be many more days like today,” she promised.
His smile faded and she saw the pain in his eyes. “That will be for the best,” he said as he leaned closer. “Don’t forget that you still need a dressmaker.”
She nodded. That part of her life was almost over. “And a teacher,” she added.
***
When he finally rode away the following morning with Beautiful Heart, she stood in front of the house watching until he disappeared around the curve of the canyon. After he was out of sight, she went back inside and locked the door for the last time.
The moment she heard the latch catch, she started crying. How could she leave? There were so many things she had to take care of before she left; she couldn’t possibly get everything done. And now that she was free to do as she pleased, she didn’t want to leave at all.
The sound of the doorbell pulled her from her thoughts. She looked through the window to see who was at the door. The visitor’s face was hidden by his hat brim, but she recognized him as the cowboy who had ridden in with Mr. Johnson two months earlier.
He was tall and wore a gun belt under his jacket, which was open and hung loosely on his chest. His hair was dark and shaggy, and the long sideburns that ran down his jawline made him appear older than his thirty years. She was surprised when he stepped into the house instead of waiting for her to invite him in.
“May I come in?” he asked as she stood beside the doorway.
She hesitated, suddenly feeling nervous. Why was he here?
He lifted a black eyebrow when he noticed her hesitation. “Is there something wrong, Mrs. Johnson?”
Her mind was blank, and she could only stare back at him in confusion. No one else would visit her, and if they did, they wouldn’t come into the house without an invitation.
As he took off his hat and set it carefully on top of the hall table, she shook her head as though to clear it. “I don’t understand why anyone would want to visit me,” she said quietly and walked across the room toward him.
Now that she was closer, she could see that his eyes weren’t quite the same color as hers. They were a lighter shade, closer to her father’s.
“Why should that bother you?” he asked as he followed her.
She shrugged as she passed him and headed upstairs. “Because people tend to avoid someone who has a problem,” she answered as she turned and glanced at him. “And since you’ve been here before, it might be better for you to wait outside.”
She opened the door and stepped aside so he could enter. Her voice sounded normal enough, but the words seemed forced. As he closed the door behind him, he turned and studied her face, which was red from embarrassment. He hadn’t expected anything different.
“It’s nice of you to let me in,” he said after he had taken a seat on the bed. “I’m sure it would be easier to talk out here, but I guess it makes sense to go back downstairs. My name is Jim Fletcher and I’m looking for work.”
She didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t ready to accept his job offer because it would mean having an employee in the house, and that would change everything. “You must be busy,” she tried to explain.
Instead of responding, he reached for a folded sheet of paper on the desk as well as a pencil and a piece of paper. “I’ll give you my card,” he said as he handed them both to her. Then he sat up straight and began tapping his pen against his thumb. “Let’s begin with your husband, Mr. Johnson.”
“My husband died,” she corrected him. “But no one knows that except for my brother.”
“What about friends? Do you have any close female friends?”
“Only one,” she said.
“Do you think he could be a friend of yours?” he asked.
“Who are you asking these questions?”
Jim smiled when he saw how uncomfortable she appeared. “I’m just trying to help you answer some difficult questions, Mrs. Johnson.”
“Then ask your questions,” she snapped as she crossed her arms.
“All right.” He cleared his throat and lowered his voice when he spoke again. “Did you ever tell anyone that you wanted to kill Mr. Johnson?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Just answer my question,” he urged. “Answer with honesty or I won’t help you.”
She glared at him and felt anger flare in her veins. She had never told anyone that she was going to murder her husband, yet this stranger assumed he knew more about her than she did. She refused to speak until he apologized.
After a few seconds of silence, he gave in and nodded his head. “I apologize if I offended you,” he said quietly. “I thought maybe you had confided in someone and I was trying to get at the truth.”
When he finally looked at her, the intensity of his gaze startled her. “Why would I have killed my husband?” she whispered. “He was good to me—and now that I have my baby—”
Her voice broke, and he placed a hand over hers. After he removed his hand, she continued to stare at him.
“Why would you do such a terrible thing?” Jim repeated as he stared at the floor, then looked back at her. “Have you been having nightmares?”
“No,” she blurted and quickly changed subjects. “What kind of work are you offering?”
“There isn’t much work at this time of year. It all depends on what I find, so it may not be for months. If I can’t find anything, I’ll probably be back in Colorado by Christmas. That would be best for you, wouldn’t it?”
She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she studied him for a moment. His hair was dark and cut short, his brown eyes reminded her of her father’s, and his jawline looked familiar somehow. But she couldn’t place where she had seen him before. He wore a plain white shirt and black pants. “Why would you leave so soon?”
“I don’t want to stay here,” he explained, “but I’ll need money to travel.” He took a deep breath as he stared at her. “That’s why I’d like to hire you.”
The idea was preposterous. “I’m not an employee,” she said firmly.
“Yes, you are,” he replied. “If you’re going to make money from the sale of Mr. Johnson’s things, then you will need an employee to run errands for you.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” she protested. “I’ll still be living here.”
“I meant a housekeeper type person. Someone who would cook and clean and manage other chores.”
A wave of panic rushed through her body. How could he possibly know that she was willing to sell her husband’s belongings if only she could raise enough money to support herself?
“What about your brother?” Jim asked, referring to her brother-in-law. “Would he be able to help you out?”
“Don’t worry about my brother,” she answered curtly.
Jim nodded but didn’t comment further. Then he picked up the cards she had given him and wrote something on a piece of paper. “Here is the address to the bank where I deposited money yesterday,” he said. “It should be available to withdraw today. Will you need any cash for the rest of the week?”
“I’ll use my savings,” she said without thinking about the implications. Her money was gone—that was the reason for selling her husband’s things. She didn’t have any choice but to do what she did; otherwise, she and her daughter would starve.
“You don’t have to give me all of your savings,” Jim offered. “Just whatever you need for the week.”
For a while, after he left, she remained in her room. She wasn’t sure how she would pay for food, let alone clothes, but she decided to wait until she heard from Jim again. By then, maybe she would have a plan of action. For now, she needed to focus on getting her baby back.
The End