A Love Behind The Broken Mask (Western Historical Romance) Read online

  Dillion had to hold his back with his hands and walk slowly for their entire journey to the mess hall. Although she wouldn’t admit it, Eloise often worried about her father’s aging.

  He lived a long life before marrying her mother, and she knew that meant his life with his children wouldn’t be as long. As they entered the mess hall, Eloise helped her father to the head of the front table, where he held up his hands to quiet down the rowdy workers.

  “Gentlemen!” he said. “I would be an ungrateful employer if I didn’t applaud each of you for your hard work today. I am forever indebted to all who helped us contain and extinguish a savage wildfire, which was very near my home... While I know that many of you were off in other fields, tending to other herds, I recognize that even your tasks were heavier today – whether that be for tending larger herds while others ran to the fire, working in the blazing heat without our irrigation line, or for assisting in cleanup after the fire! I recognize every one of you for your hard work. This evening, let us all rest easy together and enjoy ourselves. Thank you, gentlemen!”

  The mess hall erupted with hollers and applause. After a hearty supper, the men leaned back in their chairs, playing card games and drinking beer.

  The hall was quickly filled with cheers and laugher, leading Dillion to join one of the games out of sheer curiosity. Eloise waited a few minutes for the food to settle in her stomach, then pulled out her guitar, tuned it, and sat at the front of the hall.

  “All right, everybody,” she said, beginning to play a quiet but upbeat tune on her guitar.

  The hall went silent, but that wasn’t unusual. Eloise’s voice tended to carry well, and the men loved to hear her sing. As Eloise increased the volume and intensity of her song, the men begun to hoot, clap, stomp, and pound on the counter to the beat. Some even stood up to dance.

  “Oh, all right,” she pretended to sigh. “I’m just as tired as all uh you are, but I guess I’ll sing you another song anyway... and I got a nice, old-fashioned one I been wanting to sing. Anyone know it?”

  “Yes, I love this one!” someone yelled from the back of the room.

  The rest of the men joined in his cheers as Eloise changed the rhythm of her guitar to a wistful and melancholy Irish tune. Her father often compared her voice to a soulful songbird, and the men seemed to agree. As Eloise sang a song about better days soon to come, she noticed a flash of yellow appear through the door to the mess hall as it creaked open.

  The movement was caused by Ryan McKinnon, her oldest friend and neighbor, who had just appeared through the door. His bright, blonde hair and soft, green eyes stood out against his sunburned face.

  The redness hid his light freckles, which were normally visible across his cheeks and down to the tip of his pointed nose. He often stood with an awkward posture, but his strong, broad shoulders made up for it to give him a powerful presence.

  Ryan smiled up at Eloise as she sang. For a moment, he folded his arms and leaned against the wall to listen. Eloise smiled back, but quickly averted her eyes to focus on her guitar.

  By the time she looked back up again, Ryan was bent over next to Eloise’s father, whispering something in his ear. Dillion nodded, shook Ryan’s hand, and left the mess hall with him. Eloise raised an eyebrow but stayed in the mess hall for a minute more, until she had finished her song.

  “Sorry, everyone,” she said as soon as the song ended, “but I think that’s all I got in me today!”

  Paying no mind to the men demanding an encore, as they often did, Eloise jumped up from her seat, threw her guitar in its case, and dashed for the door. She looked up and down the hall, hoping that the two men hadn’t gone far. When she found nothing, she ran outside just in time to catch a glimpse of them disappearing into the main house.

  “Oh, you sly dog,” she muttered as she snuck toward the house. “What little scheme are you trying to get my Daddy involved in this time?”

  Eloise looked up at the stars as she walked the half-mile from the worker’s house to the family house.

  The casual walk along this particular path reminded her of the last time Ryan made a surprise appearance in their mess hall, two months ago. Ryan and Eloise had been born and raised next door to each other, and had spent many nights looking at the stars together when they were children.

  However, she had to laugh when she thought of the last time, on that night from two months ago, when they walked this path and looked up at the constellations together.

  “Ellie, we’ve known each other our whole lives, haven’t we?” he’d said, as they walked to the house.

  “Something like that,” she agreed, punching him playfully in the shoulder. “That’s what happens when you’re the only two kids within a hundred acres, huh?”

  “But we’re not kids anymore, are we?” he went on, gazing at her with admiration. “We need to think about... other things, now, don’t we?”

  “I’ve always thought about other things – you're the one who’s always lost in obsession over your next, new scheme,” she joked. “Tell me, what was the last new invention you tried to sell to my Daddy?”

  “I’m being serious, Ellie!” he said, stopping and grabbing her by the wrists. “I’m not talking about inventions, or jokes – I'm talking about moving on with... adulthood.”

  “What does that mean?” Eloise said, glaring at Ryan and pulling her hands away.

  “Sorry,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Eloise’s father, who was trailing behind them.

  “You’re acting strange, Ryan,” Eloise chided. “And I don’t like it.”

  “Right,” he whispered. “Sorry, forget I said anything.”

  Eloise hadn’t heard much from him since. She knew full well that Ryan had been talking about marriage that night, but even the idea of talking about such things with him made her want to vomit.

  Still, she was grateful he hadn’t brought it up again, and he was leaving her out of whatever scheme he had for her father this time. The last thing she wanted was to hurt his feelings by being forced to reject him, and it seemed that he had moved on from the idea, as well.

  Eloise entered the house and snuck quietly down the hall, stepping as gently as possible so her footsteps wouldn’t be heard from the parlor. She expected to overhear Ryan inviting her father to buy the latest farming gadget, but she noticed that his tone of voice didn’t sound as much like a salesman this time. Ryan was speaking softer than normal, and her father sounded delighted rather than reluctant.

  “Oh, my boy!” her father said. “Of course, you have my blessing!”

  “But I worry that it may not be the best, well, time,” Ryan confided. “With the fire and the property claim against you, I thought it would be best to talk to you before moving forward with it.”

  “What better time could there be?” he said. “I’m getting old now, and Ellie needs someone who can really help take care of this land-claim business – it’s just too much for one girl to handle.”

  “Oh, stop it,” Eloise muttered under her breath.

  “Well, that’s just the thing,” Ryan was saying. “Our properties are next to each other, which means even if – God forbid – you are forced to sell parts of your land, she will still have all of my land available for the cattle to graze on, and all of my livestock to generate income for her.”

  “And my men?” Dillion said.

  “Oh, they will have work, of course,” Ryan assured him. “We’ll need all the help we can get after we’ve combined our resources.”

  “Oh, my boy!” Dillion exclaimed again. “This proposal couldn’t have come at a better time!”

  “Proposal?” Eloise muttered.

  “I’m glad,” Ryan said. “She is everything I could ever ask for in a wife.”

  “Wife?!” Eloise shrieked, shoving the door open so hard it slammed into the wall behind it.

  Both men raised their eyebrows. Fury radiated so heavily from Eloise that Ryan and her father each opened their mouths like fish out of water
, but neither spoke. As she made eye contact with one and then the other, Eloise narrowed her eyes and slowly approached them. Dillion looked more concerned than frightened, but Ryan refused to so much as meet her gaze.

  “And you didn’t think you needed my permission to marry me?” she said, leaning toward Ryan’s face.

  “Ellie, sweetheart,” Dillion placated, reaching out toward her. “You haven’t given him the chance to ask you formally. You just rushed right in here before he could do it.”

  “Fine,” Eloise said, folding her arms. “Are you gonna ask me?”

  “Uh... El-Ellie...” Ryan stammered. “We have been close... almost since the day you were born. We’ve been best friends, partners in crime, and I’ve grown f-fond of you, over the years. And it would mean the entire world to me... if y-you would take me... a-as your... h-husband...?”

  “No,” she said simply.

  “Ellie!” Dillion exclaimed. “You haven’t even given it a thought!”

  “I don’t need to; I won’t do it!” she retorted.

  “Ryan, just give her some time to think about it... I-I’ll talk to her, and she’ll give you her actual decision in a few days, won't you Ellie?” Dillion said, sternly.

  “Don’t expect it to be different,” she muttered.

  “Oh... right, then,” Ryan said. “I-I think I’ll take my leave. Good day – Mr. Harding, Ellie...”

  He inched toward the door at the same moment as Eloise’s tabby cat ran through, looking to see what all the commotion was about. The cat perched on the mantle, staring intently at Eloise and Dillion. When the echo of the door closing signaled that Ryan had gone, Dillion sighed loudly.

  “Why must you behave so harshly toward him?” he said. “Do you realize how much land and capital you would gain if you gave him a chance?”

  “You mean, how much he would gain,” Eloise grumbled.

  “And you think you would not benefit from it? Being the wife of a wealthy man!?” her father said.

  “When I told you I understood the cattle, I didn’t mean that you could treat me like one of them! Am I just another animal of yours, to be pushed around?” Eloise yelled.

  “Truly, he can’t be so bad! You two have been close since you were this big,” Dillion pointed out, holding his hand low to the ground.

  “Yeah, the wrong kind of close!” Eloise countered. “That doesn’t mean we should get married. Kissing him would be like kissing my... my brother.”

  Dillion’s expression sank as he glanced toward the photo on the mantle. Eloise’s jaw dropped and eyes widened. She couldn’t leave the conversation like that. Instead, she ran over to him, wrapped one arm around him, and leaned her head into his chest.

  “I didn’t mean it like that, Daddy,” she explained.

  “You already have a brother,” he reminded her, wiping his eyes. “Or... had, I should say... If you still had him, well, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place, would we?”

  “I’m sorry, Daddy.” She hugged him tightly.

  “No, no, we mustn’t worry about that now,” he said. “But please, Ellie – please consider Mr. McKinnon’s proposal – give it some real thought, will you?”

  “O-okay,” Eloise agreed. “I will try...”

  Chapter Three

  Several miles down the road, at nearly the same time of night, a businessman, the sheriff, and two scraggly-looking men sat around the corner table at Maude’s Saloon, in the St. George Hotel.

  Of the four, the one who seemed the most out of place was the gentleman in his business suit. Aside from his formal appearance, the man had tamed, chestnut brown hair, which flowed in waves and fell into a single curl on his forehead.

  His bright blue eyes were charming and calm, although there was something of a mischievousness about them as he smiled now.

  “Gentlemen,” the mysterious stranger said, glancing at the cards in his hand. “This game is over.”

  “No, no – we can’t stop now,” the sheriff said, raising both hands. “I feel the tides turning this round. And you wouldn’t know it, but I think this hand may be worth a little... risk.”

  The sheriff reached into his back pocket and pulled out a short stack of dirty, crumpled up documents. The mysterious gentleman pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, never breaking his gaze from the sheriff’s face. Meanwhile, the two scraggly fellows hooted and hollered.

  The gentleman shrugged. “Your funeral,” he said.

  “His funeral?” one of the scraggly men said, the drawl of too much liquor showing in his voice. “Do you know what this means?! Do you know what those are, feller?”

  “It looks like a stack of old paper – but I reckon you’re about to tell me,” he said.

  “Those are a stack of property,” the drunkard announced, waving his finger loosely in the air.

  “Yes, I assume those are the sheriff’s property,” the stranger said.

  “No, no, no,” the drunkard argued. “Not his property... those’re the documents of other properties, but they ain’t got no one with the claim to it!”

  “I can’t say that I know what you mean,” the businessman said, reaching his hand out. “Let me see those.”

  “No!” the sheriff said, snatching the papers away and slowly unfolding the one atop the stack so the stranger could see it. “You can look, but you can’t touch anything.”

  “Wait,” the man said. “This is the deed to old man Wilkens’ home! Why do you have this?”

  “Old man passed away six months ago,” the sheriff explained, folding the document back up and placing it on the stack. “He’s got no next of kin, and we can’t locate a living will to find where he intended for the land to go. In other words, it seems that we got a house and thirty acres of land just sitting there, waiting to be claimed, if you understand my meaning...”

  “With his business included, that’s gotta be worth...” the stranger began, dropping his jaw.

  “Mhmm,” the sheriff said with a sly grin. “And we got three others in this stack – all just about as much, if not more value to ‘em.”

  “You’ve got my attention,” the stranger said.

  “I’m all in! So, show me what I’m up against?” the sheriff said, gesturing at the stranger’s cards.

  The mysterious stranger glanced at his cards, lifting the corner of his lip into a subtle, confident grin.

  As the stranger laid his cards on the table, the sheriff and the one other man who was still awake leaned forward to catch a glance. The drunkard gawked at the stranger’s hand, but the sheriff was less amused. He glared directly into the stranger’s eyes, his hand hovering over his pistol.

  “So...?” the stranger said, holding eye contact with the sheriff. “What am I up against?”

  The sheriff rested his hand on his holster, glanced from the drunkard to the stranger as if deep in thought, and said nothing. There was not a sound in the room, save the snores of the sleeping man.

  “Miss Maudie’ll be wanting us out of here soon. It’s getting late,” the stranger remarked, still holding eye contact with the sheriff.

  “Early, more like,” the sheriff said emotionlessly.

  “Oh yes, I guess I can feel that chill that comes right before the first light of morning. Well, Miss Maudie won’t be happy if we’re still here when she comes to open up shop,” the stranger said, rising to his feet.