For the Love of a Wounded Cowboy: A Historical Western Romance Book Read online

  “All of it? How could you spend it? It was there yesterday. How could you spend sixty dollars in a day?” she asked incredulously. “I worked so hard to earn that money. It can’t all be gone,” Amelia argued in disbelief.

  Her father put the bottle of whiskey to his head and ignored her once more. “My house. My money. I don’t have to answer to a wench like you.”

  Amelia’s brown eyes glared at her father with anger, hatred, but mostly disappointment. No matter how many times she wanted to believe things could change, it was always the same.

  “You’re incredible. You call it your money? When was the last time you held down a job to earn money?” she yelled. “I do everything around here and you just sit there and drink yourself silly every day. Look at this ranch. It would fall apart around you if it weren’t for me. I do everything, plus I work in town.”

  Her father glared at her. “And who made you Miss High and Mighty to preach at me?” he lunged to his feet and stumbled in the process. It was the middle of the day and already he was drunk. “This is my house. If you don’t like it, you can get out of here!”

  “Maybe I will!” Amelia yelled back at him. “We’d see what would become of you then.”

  “My life would be a million times better with you out of it!” her father retorted. “Lord knows why He ever gave you to me. You were bad from the start. You killed your mother! Anything that kills its own mother shouldn’t be allowed to live.”

  His words cut her deeply, though they weren’t the first time Amelia had heard them. Her father blamed her for her mother’s death. Her mother, Nora, died bringing her into the world. Her father had blamed her for that her entire life. Amelia often wondered why he kept her at all when he felt that way toward her, but he had. Sometimes, she thought it was to torture her, and make her pay for the crime he believed she’d committed.

  Her lips trembled as she fought the urge to respond. She knew it was pointless. The argument would only continue endlessly and she had no time for it, nor the heart. She needed to get to town and the mayor’s house. She had some laundry to do for him that day before she came home to work the land.

  Amelia tossed the glass jar in the fireplace and heard it shatter against the stone hearth as she walked away. Her father’s laughter followed her.

  “That made sense,” he laughed. Amelia didn’t turn around.

  The mayor wasn’t at home when Amelia arrived. She was thankful for that. The last thing she needed was to be scolded for her lateness.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Hill,” she said as she nodded at the housekeeper. The mayor had the largest house in the entire town. It was two stories, made of the best wood money could buy, painted in blue with white trim. It had servants’ quarters, a large kitchen, a parlor, living room, dining room, a music room and three bedrooms for the mayor, his wife and his two children, Penelope and Linda. It was also the only house in town with a laundry room and indoor plumbing. It was the kind of house Amelia could only ever dream about.

  The older woman frowned at her. “You are late, Miss Donnel,” she commented. “Would you like me to give this work to someone else?” she continued. “I am sure there are other women who would appreciate their employ.”

  Amelia lowered her eyes. “No, Mrs. Hill. It won’t happen again.”

  “It better not,” she replied before she turned and left Amelia to go about her work.

  Amelia passed through the hall, and would not have stopped if it something had not caught her eye. It was a face, one unlike any other she had ever seen before. Amelia stopped to look at it.

  He was handsome. His jaw was square and strong, his lips thin and his eyes large. She could not tell the color. His cheekbones were high and his nose straight, but it was the mop of curly hair on his head, and the bright smile on his face, that made her pause to appreciate his appearance.

  Amelia had no formal education. Her father did not think it necessary for her to read and write when he could not, so he never sent her to school. Fortunately, the schoolteacher, Mrs. Puck, did not allow her father’s boorish opinions to stop her from teaching Amelia when she visited her house to clean her floors. That was why she could read the ad that lay beneath the photograph now. She read it aloud.

  “Strong, hardworking, kind, and lonesome man, seeks a bride. Candidates should be between the ages of eighteen and twenty-six, unafraid to work, evenly tempered, attractive, and willing to travel. Oliver Gyles, Rattleridge, Montana.”

  Her brown eyes looked at the blurry photograph once more. If he was so handsome in such a poor photograph, how much more would he be in person?

  “What are you doing?” Mrs. Hill’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “Nothing, Mrs. Hill,” she answered.

  The older woman walked toward her and peered at the photograph. Her eyes glanced back at Amelia. She chuckled. “Were you looking at this?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” she replied.

  “Do you know what it says?” she teased. “Of course not,” she added quickly. “A washerwoman who can read? How absurd.”

  Amelia kept silent. Mrs. Hill was a nasty woman who thought herself superior to every other person in town because she was the mayor’s housekeeper. “I’ll go about my work now,” Amelia answered emotionlessly.

  Amelia walked away from the woman and did her best to remain calm as she walked to the laundry room. There, she found Millicent Roach already at work. The young woman was twenty-four, two years older than Amelia, but she was already married with three children all under the age of five.

  “I was wonderin’ what happened to you today,” Millicent stated.

  Amelia smiled meekly. “One of those days,” she replied as she tied her apron around her waist. She looked at the large piles of linens to be cleaned and pressed. She took a deep breath and got to work.

  She filled the basin with water and soap flakes and began to wash the bed linens.

  Amelia’s mind kept thinking of the photograph she’d seen. A small smile spread across her face as she remembered the image.

  “What’re you smilin’ at?” Millicent asked.

  Amelia turned to look at the other woman. “You’ll think I’m silly,” she replied.

  “No, I won’t,” Millicent insisted. “Tell me. Anythin’ that can make you smile like that is worth knowin’.”

  “I saw a photograph of the most handsome man I’ve ever seen,” Amelia admitted as she stopped her work to look at her friend. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  “Where did you see this?”

  “Upstairs. It was in the newspaper,” she explained.

  Millicent looked at her curiously. “In the newspaper? What was it doing there?”

  “It was the photograph of a man who was looking for a wife,” she answered.

  “A mail-order bride ad?” Millicent questioned. “You were lookin’ at one of those? I didn’t think you were the type to be interested in such a thing.”

  Amelia frowned slightly. “Why not? Don’t you think I want to be married one day? Have children?”

  “It’s not that, it's just you can’t be sure with those things,” Millicent explained. She stopped her ironing and wiped her brow with the back of her hand. She was a plump woman, with a large grin and an equally large gap between her front teeth.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you might end up with someone who’s just like your father,” Millicent answered. “You need to be very careful. Anyone can say something in a letter. It doesn’t make it true.”

  Amelia considered her friend’s remark. She was right. Just because Oliver Gyles was handsome, didn’t make him have a good heart. Only time and acquaintance could reveal such things.

  Millicent smiled. “What’s his name?”

  Amelia laughed. “Oliver. Oliver Gyles.”

  Their day continued as usual after that. They talked some of the ad but that was soon set aside when Mrs. Hill came to inform them that the mayor was expecting guests and more clean linens
were required. They would have more work before the day was through.

  That evening she found herself thinking of Oliver Gyles once more. A mail-order bride. She never thought about such a course in her life, but Amelia could not deny its appeal. A young, handsome man who might want her for a wife, a new life in a new state, and a chance for a happy home. It was more than she had ever hoped for in her life. Still, Millicent did have a valid point and one that gave Amelia pause in her consideration of the ad. The last thing she wanted was to replace one tyrant with another.

  She was tired as she stepped onto the small porch. It was too late to work the land, and she was sure the thought of doing so had yet to cross her father’s mind. She did have to tend to the cows and the animals before going to bed. Her day was far from over.

  Amelia milked the cows and the goats. She fed the animals and collected the eggs before entering the house. She walked in to find her father where she left him, though a little worse for wear. He opened his eyes as she walked into the room.

  “What are you doing here?” he slurred.

  “I live here,” Amelia replied, as she walked across the room and set the basket of eggs on the small table near the stove.

  Her father stumbled to his feet behind her. “I mean, why did you come back?”

  She looked at him in confusion. “I live here,” she replied. “Where else would I be?”

  “Anywhere else but here,” her father answered as his voice began to rise. “I thought you’d finally left. That I was finally rid of you.” He staggered toward her. “Why can’t I get rid of you?” he yelled. He turned and staggered back to his chair, grumbling with every step.

  Amelia watched him go and for the first time in her life, his action toward her did not yield the usual sense of hurt and disappointment. On the contrary, this time, she felt resolve course through her veins. If he wanted her gone, then she would see to it that he got his wish.

  She put the eggs and milk away before she strode to her bedroom and closed the door. Her father remained, muttering in his seat, as she passed him. She was too tired to argue with him further or to prepare a meal at that time of night. It would not be the first time they went to bed hungry. Amelia was the sole, functional person in the household. Everything should not be left up to her, but it was, and sometimes she simply did not have the energy to carry on.

  It will not be the last time I go to bed hungry.

  Amelia held her stomach as she sat on the edge of her bed. She allowed herself to fall back against the sheets as she rubbed her hand at her stomach’s complaints. She stared up at the ceiling and imagined the face of a man she had never met before. Surely, Oliver Gyles could be no worse than her father? A man, who looked as he did, and asked for a wife as he had, could not be so. There was only one way to find out. She would have to write to him.

  She bit her lip at the thought. How would she go about this? She would not want anyone to know her plans, not even Millicent. Whatever she did, it had to be done in secret. Amelia began to formulate a plan to get the information from the newspaper and writing implements.

  Mrs. Puck. She would have what I need, and my visiting her would be nothing to question. She would also keep my secret as she did before.

  A smile spread across Amelia’s delicate features as she rolled onto her side and pulled her knees up onto the bed. Tomorrow, she would find the newspaper and write to him. She was sure he couldn’t be worse than her father, and it was a chance for her to see someplace new. Somewhere far better than where she was.

  Somewhere I can be happy.

  Chapter Two

  Amelia lay on her bed, excitement causing her heart to dance an elated beat as she prepared to go about her household chores. The days were much brighter now, and her happiness spilled into everything she did. She rose with a bound and cheerfully set about her day.

  “Your eggs and bacon,” she stated as she set the food before her father. She set the plate of flapjacks on the table with the butter and maple syrup. She brought over the pot of coffee and poured it for him. Her father didn’t like milk and sugar, but she put them on the table for herself before taking her seat.

  Her father eyed her suspiciously. “What are you so happy about?” he questioned as he stabbed his fork into the stack of flapjacks and pulled out two in one go.

  “Nothing,” she replied with a smile. “Can’t a person just be happy?”

  “Not without cause,” her father countered. “And you’ve been smiling like a Cheshire cat the past few weeks.”

  Amelia smiled brighter. It pleased her that her happiness seemed to annoy her father more than her unhappiness. “I’m surprised you noticed,” she commented. She folded her hands and gave thanks for the meal before pouring herself a cup of coffee.

  “Don’t take it to mean that I care, because I don’t. You were just so annoying running around here like you came into some inheritance,” he commented with annoyance.

  “Don’t worry Father, if I did, I’d be sure not to keep the money anywhere you could find it,” she answered smugly.

  Her father launched a scathing gaze in her direction, but she ignored him. She had much better things to consider, such as the letter hidden away in the pocket of her skirt.

  The day passed quickly with that thought in mind. Amelia stayed on the ranch doing what needed to be done. Her father went into town to the saloon to gamble and drink as usual. She didn’t mind, she was thankful for the quiet and the privacy. It did not even bother her that he was spending money they could not afford to lose, she was far too happy to consider it.

  She plowed the field early. It took hours and her hands were red and sore by the time she was through, but she was contented when it was done. They had one plow horse and a single blade plow that she walked with to guide it and ensure the rows were straight. She set to work sowing the seeds for the corn immediately after, which took far longer. They had to be planted a few inches apart or the quality of the yield could be compromised come harvest time. It was backbreaking work but she did it without complaint.

  That evening she made dinner of day-old roast beef, that she received from the mayor in appreciation for the hard work she and Millicent had done to help prepare his house for his special guests over the past months. It seemed their dear mayor wanted to pursue a place in higher office, that of governor. All of the staff received such a reward for making his efforts so successful.

  Amelia ate alone. Her father remained in town. She did not want to think of the condition he would be in when whoever took pity on him brought him home. She didn’t care, either.

  Once the house was in order, and there was nothing left for her to do, Amelia washed, shut herself up in her room, and finally opened her letter. It was her joy at the end of a long day and she used it as a way to motivate herself to get through it.

  She sat up in her bed and opened the note. Months had passed since she started corresponding with Oliver Gyles. She had pursued her plan, gotten his information, and written to him only days after seeing the advertisement. Five months had passed since that time, and she found herself more and more enamored of the man. She smiled as she began to read to herself.

  My dearest Amelia. I write to you as I watch the sun setting over my ranch. I wish you could see it with me. The clouds are streaking across the sky, white set against blue and purple in the east. The sky looks like it’s on fire in the west as the sun sets beneath the mountains. It looks like someone painted it with a line of blue, then purple, then rising up to orange and yellow. The mountains look as if they could touch it. Do you like sunsets? I don’t think I’ve asked you that before. There is so much I don’t know about you. So much I want to know.

  Her heart fluttered at the words. Amelia cherished every letter she received from Oliver. Sometimes, she read them ten times over just to convince herself of what she had read the first time. It seemed like a dream to have someone care so much about her, and be so interested in the things that interested her.

  I wa
nt to know more about you, Oliver.

  She continued reading. I’m sorry you have to work so hard. It isn’t fair what your father does to you. A man should take care of his family. It’s his responsibility.

  Amelia’s forehead wrinkled slightly. Since she and Oliver had grown closer, she had revealed a lot about her life, including her situation with her father. Oliver always had something comforting to say, yet there was something that troubled her.

  Despite the length of time that they had corresponded, she still felt as if there was a lot she did not know about Oliver. He rarely shared anything about himself the way she did. She knew nothing of his past, except that he lived in Rattleridge his entire life. He was the sole owner of a property there, but she knew nothing about his past or his people. Amelia had asked, but he seemed to be avoiding those questions each time. She believed there might be some pain associated with that, so she stopped asking. She knew what it was to want to keep certain things private. She could understand why Oliver would want to keep some things a mystery. It only seemed to add to his allure.