Divided Heart Read online

  “And you think that’s all there is to it?”

  “What do you mean ‘that’s all there is to it?’ Isn’t love reason enough? I thought you loved me. I thought your love was strong as steel. Did seven years rust it away? Because it only welded mine for you into place. I know now, Hattie. I know that I love you.”

  She stared at him with an unconvinced expression.

  He tossed a hand toward her house. “Look around you, for Pete’s sake. You deserve better than a lousy life in this old shack, and I can give it to you.”

  She cocked her head. “Give what to me?”

  “I’ll buy you a castle. I’ll make you the queen you really are. There’s a comfortable life waiting for us in Massachusetts, and I don’t want to spend another day living it without you. Just tell me that you love me, Hattie,” he pleaded. “It’s that simple.”

  “That simple, huh? Everything comes easy for you, doesn’t it? Good looks, intelligence, money. You got everything it takes.” Her glare settled on his fine jacket. “And then some.”

  He somberly stared back at her. “If I have everything it takes, then why is it so difficult for you to say that you love me?”

  ~*~

  Difficult? Hattie snorted when she wanted to cry. If only he knew how difficult it was not to run into his arms and say those words over again. Heartbreak. That’s all he’d ever given to her. “You have no idea what it took for me to establish my ‘lousy life’ in this ‘old shack.’ You can’t imagine what it took me to make friends. Friends who’ve become family to me. Family I can trust. Which is a lot more than I can say about you.”

  The thrill of seeing him wore off, and the chill of the night air ruffling her nightdress set in.

  The weight of the shotgun in her hands had become burdensome.

  “You’ve had more than enough chances with me, Nate. There’s no more making amends. Even if those amends involve placing a jewel-studded crown on my head, because loving you hurts too much. Besides—” if he cared for her half as much as she’d cared for him, then what she was about to say would strike him back one well-deserved blow and give him a good reason never to return. “I’ve got a beau.” She raised the barrel of the shotgun to add persuasion to her words. “I’ve gone on with my life. Now get out and get on with yours.”

  ~*~

  Hattie’s statement hit Nate harder than a spray of buckshot. It was by no means unbelievable. But it was devastating.

  “What’s the matter?” she said.

  Maybe he’d hesitated too long.

  “You think I lost what it takes to light a spark in a man’s eye?”

  From what he saw in front of him, he could attest that at twenty-nine years old, Hattie still had more than her fair share of what it took to set a man’s heart on fire. He couldn’t help but ask. “Who is he?”

  “The Reverend.”

  “The Reverend?”

  She inaccurately read into his look of stupor. “You think it’s so surprising that a preacher would be interested in me?”

  “It’s you being interested in a preacher that stumps me.” Any man could be weakened by those black, temptress eyes.

  “I’ve gotten religion, Nate.”

  He was speechless. That was the last thing he expected to hear, but at least it explained her interest in a preacher. “Does he know about your past?”

  “You mean—the Reverend you hired on to marry you to Lillian?”

  A blow for a blow. He shouldn’t have said that. But he’d thought of this night for so long, and to lose her to…religion?

  “You going to tell him about me?”

  And ruin any chance of her being happy? “No, Hattie, I’m not.”

  “Then what are you going to do?”

  Worse than facing the barrel of her shotgun was facing the anger flaring in her eyes. Anger with his name on it. She didn’t want him anymore, and a woman like Hattie could have any man she wanted. Even a preacher.

  He succumbed to what he so well deserved. “I wish you happiness.”

  He soaked in his last sight of her alluring eyes and the way the breeze brushed her nightdress against her slender form. Then he forced himself to turn away from her and accept the regret he’d have to live with for the rest of his life.

  He would return to Massachusetts to an expensive house that was nothing more to him than a place where he slept and kept his belongings. It would never be a home without a wife, and Hattie was the only woman for him. The years spent without her had been the loneliest of his life. The darkness ahead filled the emptiness inside him, and he stared into it. He’d known from the start that his chances of her still loving him were a long shot. Like having a hundred coins on one side of a scale and only one on the other—and expecting that one coin could somehow tip the scale in his favor. Hope had made that one shiny coin seem a lot bigger than it was.

  But the truth was that trust was as fragile as a porcelain vase. Once shattered, it could never be repaired.

  3

  “We could both get this over and done with if you’d lie still long enough so I can kill you.”

  That would have made the task easier on both of them if the chicken was willing to comply with what Hattie had in mind. But instead the chicken put up a ruckus, squabbling and kicking at her with sharp claws as she held it down to the chopping block. It slashed her arm, and blood poured out.

  This one’s a fighter.

  They were all fighters. It was Hattie who dodged those claws better on some days than others. The proof was on her forearms. They were cut up, healed over, and then cut up again. Life was full of fresh and reopened wounds from making a living.

  And from just plain living.

  No, she wouldn’t think about Nate. And she wouldn’t think about finding an easier chicken to kill either, because Hattie was also a fighter.

  And she had an axe.

  The toughest chickens have the most tender meat, she’d convinced herself. Well, the philosophy sounded good, anyway.

  The axe came down swiftly and mercifully. Too bad love wasn’t as kind on the heart.

  She strung up the chicken and went inside to tend to her injury. It seemed Hattie had more of her own blood on her apron than the chicken’s. It reminded her of how being in love with Nate had been. There was always a struggle, and she always ended with more wounds than he did.

  The gash on her forearm was long and deep. It could use some stitching up, but she just tied a clean rag around it. She made chicken pies for a living and had to get a dozen of them to Kate’s Eatery by nine each morning.

  One chicken was all it took to fill the order. One fighting, squabbling, slashing chicken that she’d have to pluck, boil, and debone. The rest was just flour, water, shortening, vegetables, and a mess to clean up after. But it was nowhere as bad as the mess she had yet to clean up after seeing Nate.

  Why did he have to come back, Lord? He always left me in a muddle of hurt and yearning for him, and he’s done it again. Please get him out of my heart. I don’t want to love him anymore. Even though she’d told Nate to go away, her feelings for him hadn’t left with him. It seemed she’d fallen hopelessly in love with a man who was no good for her, and she couldn’t climb out of that love.

  Hattie headed into town to deliver the pies in a wagon drawn by an old, rickety mare that looked the way Hattie felt. She stopped at Doc’s along the way and found him outside.

  “How’s that wife of yours doing?” Hattie called out.

  “She’s still under the weather,” Doc said. “It seems I can treat everything but the common cold.”

  Or an aching heart. “I got just the cure.” Hattie handed him a jar of chicken soup she’d made that morning.

  “I appreciate it.” Doc noticed the blood-stained rag. “Your arm looks like it could use some attention.”

  “I’ll be all right,” she said. Her arm, anyway.

  She continued downtown where the businesses were opening and the sun was warming up the air. People strolling al
ong the boardwalks moved as slowly as Hattie’s horse. As Hattie’s heart.

  She spotted Brawley, a friend’s husband, on the walk. Brawley and Aggie had four small children and a farm to tend to, so neither came to town often. Since Aggie had the upper hand in their relationship, Hattie couldn’t resist teasing him. “Did Aggie let you out, or did you escape?”

  “She don’t know I’m gone. I sneaked off to buy something for her birthday. Hey. Got any idea what a lady would like?”

  Hattie thought on that for a moment. Right off, she knew the answer he was looking for, but it was the way he’d worded the question that slowed her down. Did a woman start turning into “just one of the fellows” if she was still unmarried and closer to thirty than she was eighteen?

  “Buy her some ribbons,” Hattie said. “Blue would look nice on her.”

  “Hello, Hattie.” Clayton, the telegrapher, spotted her as he unlocked the door to his office. “Give me a minute, and I’ll lend you a hand.” He knew her routine and always helped her unload.

  There was someone else who knew her routine. For some reason, Hattie still referred to him as Boss, probably because she’d worked for him for so long. Everyone else had absorbed her as part of the town, but Boss wanted to absorb her back into his saloon where he’d worked her like a slave and beat her like a dog. He stood in front of his saloon at this hour every morning and glared her down for quitting on him.

  “Got something you want to say to Hattie?” a deep voice called out to Boss.

  Boss swung his glance over to Zachariah Keane and then went inside. No one argued with Zachariah.

  “Let me give you a hand with those, Hattie.” Zachariah grinned toward the telegraph office. “Can’t trust Clayton with your pies. He’s apt to take one.”

  “I can’t trust you with them either,” she said. “You’re apt to take two.”

  “You’ve got to sympathize with me.” Zachariah put on his pity-me face. “You know the way my wife cooks.”

  Poor Zachariah. Lillian was so naive about preparing food that when they first married, she thought peppercorns were dried currants, and so she’d fed him peppercorn muffins, peppercorn waffles, peppercorn griddle cakes…. “I tried to teach her, Zachariah. Honest I did. Cooking just isn’t her gift.” That was an understatement. Lillian was beautiful, she had a fancy English accent, and she had a sweet disposition. Hattie reckoned Lillian’s lack of cooking skills was God’s way of reminding Zachariah he hadn’t gone to Heaven yet.

  “Then you know who your best customer is.” Zachariah snatched up two pies like he was deciding which one he was going to have for lunch. It seemed Kate’s Eatery kept him from starving.

  Hattie smiled as he carried the pies inside the eatery. Aside from him being one of her most loyal customers, Zachariah and his wife were also her best friends. Her smile faded, because they were also friends who’d had a bad run in with Nate way back when. She didn’t want to talk about it but figured she’d better tell Zachariah about the visit.

  “Nate came around last night,” she said.

  Zachariah was heading back to the wagon to fetch more pies when her statement fastened his boots to the walk. Judging by the look of shock in his eyes, it was a good thing his hands were empty. His boots were still stuck, but at least he managed to loosen his tongue. “Nate? You sure it was him?”

  “Do you think I don’t know what Nate looks like?” Or how it felt to see him again.

  “After all this time?” A look of concern crossed his face. “Care to tell me what he wanted?”

  “He wanted me to go back East with him.”

  Zachariah knew how infatuated she’d once been with Nate and that he was no good for her. “And?”

  “And I told him ‘no’ and he left and that’s all there is to it. So there’s no use stirring up Lillian and getting her upset. He’s gone.” Those last two words choked out hard.

  A pause from Zachariah suggested he wasn’t convinced. “You really think he’s gone for good?”

  It was too hard to outright say yes. “Would you come around again if someone held a shotgun to you?”

  He responded with a lingering look she didn’t understand. It seemed Zachariah could read everyone, but no one could read him. Did he know something about Nate she didn’t know?

  Zachariah set himself into motion again and picked up more pies but with less enthusiasm than before. “How are you doing, Hattie?” He knew she was aching for Nate. She couldn’t pull the cowhide over Zachariah’s eyes.

  “I’m doing.” The gashes on her arms didn’t compare with the blow of seeing Nate again. Her heart stumbled, but she was determined to regain her footing and stay on course. Though she wanted to feel the caress of his arms around her shoulders once again, she had to listen to her head and not her heart.

  4

  Nate had spent the night camped out in a ravine in the company of a few pesky mosquitoes and a dying mesquite. Though he’d left Hattie’s sight, he couldn’t leave her altogether. The next morning, he returned to spy on her to ensure she’d be all right after he left. He didn’t like what he saw. Her life was as tough and jagged as the serrated blades of the yacca he hid behind.

  Eyes cast down, she walked with a forced gait from her ramshackle house to the henhouse. His heart ached seeing her in the rags she wore, a faded calico dress that fit her poorly, and a stained apron. You should be wearing satin, not only because of how beautiful you are, but because of who you are.

  She’d always held herself with quiet dignity despite the scorn she’d received. While women had looked down on her for working in a saloon, he’d always looked up to her for courage in the way she stood up to the men.

  You’re royalty, Hattie, royalty that fate misplaced.

  A limp chicken dangled in her hand as she trudged back to her shack. Behind the window, she peeled potatoes, and then swept sweat from her unsmiling face, smearing her forehead with flour. She looked beaten.

  You deserve better than this. If you’d only give me another chance.

  The college degree he’d earned and his reputation for excellence had won him a job as the youngest vice president of the Massachusetts National Bank. He made enough money to buy her everything she could want. He shook his head at the weathered planks. Happiness had always eluded her, and he was especially guilty of keeping it away from her. Something had blinded him from seeing her worth. Someone.

  Zachariah Keene.

  Nate’s hand balled into a fist of its own accord. “Enemy” was too mild a word to describe the man behind the reason Nate had left Ramsden and why he couldn’t be seen now. Nate’s fist trembled with desire to… No, he couldn’t let Zachariah get to him. He’d be out of Ramsden soon enough. I just need to know Hattie will be all right, and then I’m on my way.

  She did say she had a beau.

  Nate never fathomed she’d land in the arms of a preacher. There must have been something special about the man to have won such an extraordinary woman. Was he the one who’d tamed her heart—or did he even know about her past? If he really is a man of God, he shouldn’t care about what she was then, only who she is now. A church-going woman. Another thing Nate never would have expected.

  He must be quite a man. Learned, dignified, and handsome enough to have snagged Hattie’s interest. Hattie didn’t exactly say they were engaged, but if the man had half a brain….

  I got what I deserved. He was the one who’d hired the Reverend in order to have himself a respectable wedding to Lillian so many years ago. He’d placed an ad in several newspapers, “Minister Wanted.” The Reverend answered via telegraph, “Just finished seminary. Am interested.” Nate hired him since there was no need to know more about the man. He’d expected the Reverend would have left long ago.

  But then again, Hattie was plenty of reason to stay. Which raised another question. Why is he still just her suitor?

  Hattie was hardworking, loyal, tender, and the old biddy dress that covered her from neck to toe couldn’t hide the cont
ours of what was underneath. What man snared in the depth of her eyes wouldn’t want to entangle himself further with her in marriage?

  Nate’s curiosity about the Reverend crested. It also set a new course for his feet through the scrub and shin-high patches of grass. This job interview is long overdue. Nate quickened his pace toward the church to find some answers, when a faraway sound stopped him short.

  Bang!

  Who’d be out here in the middle of nowhere shooting? There was no game out here.

  Two more shots.

  Could it be?

  Nate dove into the grass.

  Was the Krugar Gang tracking him down? If it was those murdering thieves, Hattie didn’t live far away.

  Needing to find out where and who the gunshots came from took Nate away from the church and toward the sound of the bullets. Staying low, he scurried from bush to bush until he came to the last thing he expected to find.

  The Reverend, dressed in the garments of his trade. The man was nothing like Nate had imagined. He was tall and lanky. And second—

  Bang!

  Why was a preacher of peace shooting a gun?

  5

  Nate eased his way into the open. “I didn’t know a preacher needed a gun.”

  The Reverend whirled and dropped the gun, setting off a bullet. It missed Nate’s shoe and went into the wilds beyond.

  “I didn’t mean to—”

  “Try to shoot off my foot?”

  “I didn’t expect anyone to be around. I suppose it would help if I were wearing these.” He fished a pair of eyeglasses from his saddlebag and fumbled to put them on. By the way he squinted through the lenses, even they wouldn’t help his aim.

  Nate cleared his throat to cover a snicker. “What are you doing so far from the church, Reverend?”

  “I didn’t want to disturb anyone. I’ve discovered guns make a lot of noise.”

  A man who’d figured out guns made a lot of noise? This was the man who would make Hattie happy? Nate picked up the “noise maker” from the ground and handed it back to the Reverend.