A Constant Love (The Hope of Cheyenne #1)

Prologue

F EbrUARY 1887 O UTSIDE C HEYENNE , W YOMING

“You never listen to me!” Charlotte Aldrich put her hands on her hips. “You never concern yourself with what might be important to me. I’m a grown woman, and I should have some say about my future.”

Her father looked at her with a stern but somewhat bored expression. They’d had this conversation too many times to count, and Charlotte knew her pleadings were falling on deaf ears as her father headed for the front door.

Charlotte followed after him. “Papa, I don’t want to marry Lewis Bradley and move away from ranch life. I love the ranch. It’s all I care about. When you sent me away to finishing school in Denver, all I could think about was coming home. I want to marry a rancher, not some gadabout lawyer.”

“Lewis Bradley bought some ranchland,” her father offered as if extending an olive branch of peace. “He’s even building a house there.”

“He doesn’t intend to live on the ranch,” Charlotte countered. “He told me that much himself. He wants to hire a couple to oversee his cattle. Who does that kind of thing?” She nearly ran into her father as he stopped at the back door and turned.

“A wealthy man who doesn’t have to do his own dirty work.” Her father reached to take his heavy winter coat from the peg. “Now be sensible. Your mother has had to work like a man all her life. She grew up on a farm and has always known physical labor. She gets up before the sunrise to start her day and works every bit as hard as any man I’ve ever known. I finally just talked her into letting me get her a cook for the kitchen. Honestly, Charlotte, I want you to have a life of ease—of beauty and love.”

“I wish what I wanted mattered to you.” Charlotte watched him don his coat. “You care more about those cows out there than you do me.”

“I care about you both, but you aren’t going to sway my thinking on this. You’re too young to know just how important it is.”

“I’m twenty-one years old!”

“Which is well past the age to marry. Most of the girls around here are engaged before they’re out of school and married shortly thereafter. You don’t want folks seeing you as a spinster. You’ll thank me for this one day.”

“I won’t, because I don’t love Lewis Bradley and I never will. He’s a nice enough man, but I love Micah Hamilton. I’ve loved him since I was four years old.”

“Micah is a rancher and will always be a rancher. He’s an honorable man and your brother’s best friend. His father is my best friend. I agree they are good people, but I don’t want this life for you. Ranching is hard, and the duties of a ranch wife will make you old before your time. I hate what it’s done to your mother. She has so little beauty in her life.”

“Mother is happy. Ask her. She married the man she loved, and I ask for no less.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Charlotte. In time you’ll see that I was right. You’ll live a life of ease in Cheyenne—the wife of a lawyer, and mother to a baby girl. Think of that if nothing else.”

Charlotte gripped the back of the chair. Lewis Bradley’s wife had died the summer before after giving birth to a beautiful baby girl. It had been a tragedy for certain, but not one she planned to rectify.

“If you do this to me ... if you force me to marry him, I will never speak to you again. I will have nothing more to do with you.” The wind went completely silent outside. The world seemed to hold its breath as Charlotte stood her ground.

Papa looked at her for a long moment. His eyes narrowed slightly as a frown settled on his face. “You’d really do that?”

“If you make me marry Lewis Bradley—a man I do not love—I’ll have nothing more to do with you. I love you, Papa, but please try to see my side of this. I love Micah. Furthermore, I’ll never love anyone but Micah. Why not put all this effort arranging my marriage into getting Micah to see me as something other than his little sister?”

“I can’t believe you’d treat me in such a way. That’s hateful, and certainly isn’t the way we raised you. The Good Book says you’re to obey your father. I just want you to have a better life, and instead you hate me for it.” He shook his head. “You will marry Lewis Bradley, and that’s that. He and I have an arrangement, and it’s important to me.”

Charlotte crossed her arms tightly against her body. “Then fine. Just go. You may gain a son-in-law, but you’ve just lost a daughter. Forever!”

She stormed off for the stairs. Anger and sorrow overwhelmed her. Why couldn’t her father see what he was doing to her? Why didn’t he care? She loved the ranch. Sure, it was a hard life at times, but it was all that she wanted for her future. That ... and Micah Hamilton.

“It’s still blowing out there, but I think maybe the snow has stopped,” Micah’s father, Wayman Hamilton, declared. He dropped his hold on the worn-out curtain. “It’s a good thing that your mother didn’t live to see this winter. She hated the cold.”

Micah had never seen it as a good thing that his mother hadn’t lived. She’d been gone for five years come March, having succumbed to pneumonia. Every time his father made the comment about it being good she hadn’t lived for one reason or another, Micah understood it less and less.

“Those beans about ready?” Dad asked, grabbing another cup of coffee.

Going to the stove, Micah took the lid off a pot of beans and gave them a quick stir. He pulled a single bean out with the spoon and tested it. It mushed easily.

“They’re ready.” Micah left the lid off and went to retrieve a couple of bowls. He dished up the contents and placed the bowls on the table before grabbing the last of the corn bread he’d made the day before.

The two men took their places at the table and bowed their heads to pray. Dad offered thanks for the food as usual. Micah always enjoyed his father’s prayers. Prayer time was some of Micah’s earliest recollections. He could remember his mother praying with him before bedtime, while his father usually prayed over the meals and morning devotions.

“Amen.”

Micah glanced up to find his father already digging in. “Might need salt and pepper.”

Dad nodded, then sampled the beans before adding either. Micah grabbed a piece of corn bread and crumbled it up into the soupy bean broth. Beans with bacon and corn bread was a staple in their diet, and Micah never grew tired of it. It was simple cowboy fare and suited him just fine.

Still, he remembered other meals when his mother fried a chicken or baked a roast. Those were good meals too. Not only that, but Ma was an amazing baker. She made bread that always drew compliments. These days, Micah and his dad mostly ate corn bread, unless they picked up a loaf of bread from one of the bakeries in Cheyenne. Occasionally, Mrs. Aldrich would send over a loaf and other goodies. Since Micah’s mother died, Lucille Aldrich felt obliged to take care of them from time to time. The two families had been very close. They still were.

They finished lunch and headed to the barn without bothering to clean up. Micah knew that duty would be his, and he’d see to it later. Right now, given there was a lull in the storm, there was livestock to check on and ice to break.

This winter hadn’t been kind to anyone. The temperatures had dropped well below freezing. The hard winds seemed constant, and the snows had started up in November and continued until a person hardly knew whether to dig out or wait to see what was coming next.

Bundled up against those cold temperatures, Micah still felt like he might well freeze to death in the saddle. There weren’t enough layers he could wear to keep out the icy air. The cutting wind wasn’t blocked by anything on the open range. Micah found himself hoping that maybe Dad would want to slip down into one of the cuts and look for strays. At least there they’d have a brief reprieve from the wind. However, the man was singularly minded. Get to the creek and punch holes in the ice for the cattle to drink.

Micah and his father were constantly breaking ice for the cattle and doing their best to provide what little hay they had in storage. The poor animals were unable to break through the solid sheet of ice that had formed on the land. Not that there was much of anything to dig down to even if they had.

Micah’s father had managed to buy some hay before the first snows, but it hadn’t been enough to last the winter. They’d even borrowed feed from their neighbor, but Frank Aldrich was running out as well. At this point, it was just a question of whether their animals starved or froze to death.

Micah glanced across the horizon. Things seemed all right. There was no sign of animals, living or dead. But as they moved north, they started finding lifeless cattle. First just one and then there was a group of three. Farther on, another one or two, and beyond that there was an entire snow-covered field dotted with dead bodies. The night had been their undoing. The frigid cold and winds had finished what the summer drought had started.

They found some of the livestock alive and decided to drive them back toward the house and barn. That’s when they saw Frank Jr. and his father. Micah gave a wave, and his dad did likewise. Frank Sr. motioned them to move into one of the ravines, out of the wind.

They left the cattle to mill about, seeking something to feed on, and followed the Aldrich men into the cut.

“Doesn’t look good out there,” Frank Sr. began as they brought their mounts together.

“Not one bit,” Dad replied. “I can’t believe all the dead animals. I’ll bet I’ve lost over half my herd.”

Frank Sr. nodded. “Would have been my lot as well had I not listened to Lucille.”

“Wish I would have,” Dad said, his voice betraying his discouragement. “Just never thought after all these years that we’d see anything this bad.”

“We’re out trying to round up any of the cows in distress,” Frank Jr. offered. “So far haven’t seen any alive.”

“We’ve got that bunch up top that you saw us with,” Micah replied. “Some might be yours. We didn’t stop to check brands as it looks like another storm is coming in. That western sky is pretty heavy, and the wind seems to be picking up again.”

“We noticed.” Frank Sr. shifted in his saddle. “We’re going up north a ways, and then we’ll head back home. See you later.”

Micah’s dad nodded. “Good luck.”

The men parted company, and Micah and his dad continued to drive the sixty or so cows back to the holding pens. Their exposure to the elements would be only slightly better there, but Micah and Dad could see to it that they had water and hay. At least until it was gone. It took over three hours to get the animals back to the pens. They’d picked up a few strays along the way but also saw just as many dead animals. The loss was deeply felt.

Thinking about the total ruin they might face when all was said and done, Micah couldn’t help but wonder what they’d do. There was plenty of money in the bank for now, but that wouldn’t go far if they had to start all over. And what if they had another drought summer like they’d had last year? That put the cattle in a bad place to start with, and then the treacherous winter had dealt death.

Micah followed his dad into the barn, where they saw to the horses. Usually they’d turn them out, but Micah suggested they keep them in their stalls since the snow had started to fall again, and the wind was worse than ever. Dad was more than a little upset, and when he finally spoke, it was in a rage.

“I’ve done everything right. Everything I was supposed to do. Put God first and obeyed His word. Was good to my kin and neighbors. I saw to my animals and gave them what they needed, and this is what I get.” He shoved aside a pitchfork, and it crashed against the wall.

“It won’t help to get mad about it. Everybody’s up against the same thing,” Micah said, hoping his father would calm down. But he didn’t.

Instead, Wayman Hamilton picked up a hammer and threw it against the wall with a loud crash. Next came a clay pot. It shattered into pieces.

“Throwing things won’t help,” Micah declared in a firm tone.

“Keep your thoughts to yourself. I should have killed the rest of ’em instead of bringing them to the pen.” He shook his head, and his voice softened. “They’re gonna die anyway. Nothin’ can live out in that cold.” He continued to throw whatever was in arm’s reach.

“Dad, you need to calm down.”

“Calm yourself down, Micah!” Dad shouted back. “I’ve had enough.”

There was a knock on the barn door, and then it opened. Several of the Aldrich cowhands hurried inside, leaving their horses out in the wind.

“What’s going on here?” Dad asked, coming to where the men stood in a group.

“Mrs. Aldrich sent us. The boss and Frank Jr. haven’t come back.”

“How long have they been gone?” Dad asked.

“Six hours since they left this morning. They went out right after that first storm passed,” one of the men declared.

“We saw them about three, maybe three and half hours ago,” Micah said as he checked his pocket watch. “They were fine and up by Bowman’s Crossing. Said they were headed north.”

Dad frowned. “Why didn’t Lucille send someone sooner? We need to go look for them.”

Micah was already trying to ready his horse again. The wind was still howling, and the temperatures had become bitter. Given the way the ice had formed around the men’s eyes and beards, Micah knew it must be well below zero.

“If you saw them going north, they might have made it to the Briar Bridge before this storm hit,” Kit Hendricks replied. “That’s a good place to take cover. There are some overhangs along the dry wash that could provide good shelter.”

Briar Bridge was hardly more than a few boards nailed together to create a passable crossing over a deep gully. It was also a good eight miles out. It wouldn’t provide that much coverage, but it was certainly better than being out in the main thrust of the wind and snow.

“Did you send riders to head up there?” Dad asked. “Are you headed there now? Looks like this storm is just about done.”

The men looked at each other and shook their heads. Kit was the one to respond. “There’s more clouds movin’ in, and the winds are still bad.”

“And your boss is out in it and possibly needs help.” Micah’s dad made his anger apparent. “You were hired to do a job, and this is a part of it. You need to let Mrs. Aldrich know that you found us and that we’re heading up a search, and then join up with us. The rest of you can follow us now.”

The four other men looked from Kit to Micah’s dad and then one by one shook their heads.

“I’m quitting,” the shortest said and headed for the door of the barn. “Ain’t worth a man’s life to go after someone fool enough to get hisself in trouble.” He slipped through the door, letting the wind catch it. The door banged hard against the wall as if to emphasize his words.

Two of the other men gave a nod and followed suit. The last one looked at Kit. “You comin’?”

“You can’t just let those men die without trying to help them,” Micah said, stepping forward. “They’ve hired you to do a job, and sometimes it’s a rough job like this.”

The man looked at Kit and then turned on his heel. “I’m not doin’ it. I’m headin’ back to Texas.”

Kit watched him go and turned back to Micah and his dad. “I’ll let Mrs. Aldrich know what’s happened and then join you.”

Dad nodded. “We’ll follow the creek. You’d do well to do likewise.”

The younger man gave a nod. “I’ll join you when I can.”

“Come on, Micah. Better grab extra blankets and wood. I’ll get canteens filled and some food. Who knows how long we’ll be out there.”

By the time Micah and his dad headed out, the winds had calmed, but Hendricks had been right. It looked like another snow was coming. Micah knew that had it been anyone but the Aldrich men, they would have waited.

They looked for signs, but of course there were no tracks to follow. Anything that might have given clue as to the direction taken by their friends had long since been blown away in the storms. Micah couldn’t help but note the rapid setting of the sun and the darkness that loomed. Kit had never caught up to them. He found himself whispering a prayer for the young man’s safety.

Just before losing all hope of light, Dad called for them to set up camp in the gulch not far from Briar Bridge. If not for the setting sun, they could have ridden a few miles more and stayed in the line shack, but at least the gulch would offer some protection. Here there was a natural sloping path from the top of the ravine to the bottom. The cattle sometimes used it when there was water to be had at the bottom of the cut. Now it gave Micah and his dad an easy way down to shelter themselves and the horses from the winds.

Micah found a deep overhang and put up a small tent beneath it. Next, he went to work on venting the camp stove, while Dad settled the horses. What firewood Micah had brought did an acceptable job of warding off the freezing temperatures. They were able to make coffee and thaw the jerky they’d brought with them before crawling into their bedrolls to wait for the sun. By morning, the winds settled down and the world seemed strangely reborn.

Micah stepped from the tent and climbed up the ravine to view the brilliant sun against icy blue skies and glittering snowfields. There was no warmth to be had, but the light did much to give him hope. He checked the horses and found them safe in the cut where Dad had tied them. He knew they were thirsty but had no way to melt enough snow. He’d have to make it down to the creek and break the ice with the ax.

“I’ll get the horses watered,” he told Dad. He took up the ax and then headed back to the horses.

Dad had everything packed up by the time Micah returned. Together they reloaded their mounts in silence. Neither had a good feeling about the situation. They made their way to where the bank-line gave way to a sloping path out. Just as Micah reached the place, he noticed something red in the snow. He hadn’t seen it when they’d first arrived the day before, but then again, the drifts had been high. The wind had rearranged everything.

Micah brushed the snow aside to take hold of the red object and saw something that caused his breath to catch in his throat.

“Dad!”

Micah hurried to dig away the snow with his gloved hands and uncovered the frozen body of the elder Mr. Aldrich, a red scarf wrapped around his nose and mouth. There was a deep gash with frozen blood at the hairline on his temple. Had he fallen from his horse off the side of the gully?

They continued to work to dig out his frozen body. Sadly, when they finished, they’d found Frank Jr. as well.

“I guess Mr. Aldrich fell. Maybe he was knocked unconscious, and Frank Jr. huddled up here to keep him warm. Could be when he dismounted his horse to help, the horses ran off,” Micah said, staring at the lifeless men. He’d never seen death like this.

Dad said nothing. Clearly, he was beyond grieved by what had happened. They tried to straighten out the bodies, but it was of no use. They were frozen in their misery, curled up tight as if to ward off death when it came for them.

“Micah, go to the Aldrich ranch and get their buckboard sleigh. Tell Lucille what’s happened and get back here as quick as you can.”

“Why don’t you come with me and warm up?”

“No.” Dad was strangely distant, and he gave his head a very slow shake. “Now that they’re exposed, I won’t have animals trying to make a meal of them. You go, and I’ll set the tent up and make camp till you get back.”

Micah knew better than to argue. He grabbed his horse and made his way out of the ravine. He reached the ranch in under an hour. Thankfully, the weather remained clear without any sign of a coming storm. It even felt as if the temperatures had risen a bit.

He took his bay gelding inside the barn and found an empty stall. Without feeling the need to ask, Micah set up hay and water for the horse, then went to the house. He barely had to knock on the back door before Nora, the cook, appeared and pulled him inside.

“Hurry up now. No sense letting the cold in with you.” She secured the door closed behind him. “Go stand by the stove. I saw you ride in and added more wood to it.”

“I need to see Mrs. Aldrich.”

“What is it, Micah?” Mrs. Aldrich appeared from the other end of the large kitchen. She was still a handsome woman, even in her late forties. Her worried expression reminded Micah of his duties. He bit his lower lip and pulled his hat off.

“I ... I ... Dad sent me. We found them ... and need the buckboard sleigh.”

Her face blanched. “They’re ... dead ... aren’t they?”

Micah met her gaze and nodded. “I’m afraid so. Looks like maybe Frank Sr. fell from his horse and hit his head. We found him in the cut not far from Briar Bridge. Frank Jr. was with him. Looked like maybe he tried to keep him warm.”

She squared her shoulders. “I knew they were gone. The horses showed up late last night. Kit came and told me.”

“He was supposed to join us but never came. The rest of your hands ran off.”

She nodded. “Kit told me. I suppose that’s the way it is with transient help. It’s my fault Kit didn’t rejoin you. The weather blew in, and I figured you and your pa would wait, so I told him to wait.”

“If it would have been anyone else, Dad would have stayed put,” Micah assured her. “We set up camp not twenty feet away from where we found them. The drifts, however, were so bad last night that we didn’t find them until this morning.”

She pushed back an errant strand of golden blond hair. “Let me change my clothes. I’m going to come with you. Go ahead and get Kit to help you hitch the buckboard. The Belgians are in the pen behind the barn.” She left the kitchen without waiting for Micah to reply.

What could he say? He couldn’t very well deny the poor woman her right to help claim her husband and son’s bodies.

“I’m headed out to the barn, Nora.”

“Not before you drink a hot cup of coffee and warm your insides.” She poured him a cup and handed it to him.

Micah noted her tears and gave a sympathetic nod. “Thanks for this.” He took the cup and forced back his own feelings of sadness. “Sorry for your loss.”

“And I’m sorry for yours,” she replied, knowing he and Frank Jr. were close friends.

Micah downed the hot liquid in one long gulp. It burned some but steadied his thoughts. He needed to be strong and help Mrs. Aldrich through this bad time. He could think about all the details later ... after they’d buried the dead.

There was no sign of Kit, so Micah hitched up the Belgian team without his help, praying as he went about his duties. He wondered where Charlotte was. She would be devastated. She had been very close to her father and brother. This wouldn’t be easy for either her or her mother.

Mrs. Aldrich soon appeared with a stack of wool blankets and a knapsack. Micah had no idea what she’d packed to bring, but he placed everything in the back of the wagon and then helped her up to the seat. He noted that she wore trousers under her heavy wool skirt. She was a smart woman, and no doubt the pants would do her good. She also wore a heavy men’s coat and large felt hat that she tied down with a woolen scarf. Once seated, Mrs. Aldrich pulled on two pairs of gloves, then reached beneath the wagon seat and pulled up a thick wool blanket.

He didn’t want to forbid her to go but knew this wasn’t going to be easy for her. “You don’t have to come along. Dad and I can manage and bring them home.”

“Thank you, Micah. I want to be there. To see where ... where it happened.” She unfolded the blanket over her lap and offered part of it to Micah. “Better wrap up.”

Kit showed up just then. He looked at them oddly. “What’s going on?”

“We’re going to get my men,” Mrs. Aldrich replied before Micah could even think what to say. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

“Would you unsaddle my horse?” Micah asked. “I left him in the stall.”

“Yes, and give him plenty of feed,” Mrs. Alrich added.

Kit gave a nod and stepped back as Micah put the Belgians into motion.

Micah tried not to think about the task at hand. He was going to retrieve bodies. Dead bodies. One of which was his dearest friend. His mind immediately went to the last time he and Frank Jr. had worked together. They’d gone out before the last big storm to check on the cows. The weather had been sunny and cold, but the ride was enjoyable. Frank had talked about the St. Valentine’s dance in Cheyenne. He’d wanted to go and look for a possible mate. Now that would never happen.

The way back took much longer than the horseback ride to the ranch. Micah had to find ways to negotiate the landscape where there were no real roads, and what few paths were available were covered in deep snow and ice. The large draft horses were powerful, however, and pulled through the snow with relative ease. Micah was grateful for the clear and sunny day, but he questioned his wisdom. Why had he agreed to let Mrs. Aldrich come along? What if they got stuck out here? They’d neither one even had the presence of mind to bring survival supplies. Micah hadn’t even thought to throw in extra feed for the horses.

When they were within a few hundred yards, Micah breathed a sigh of relief. Soon he and Dad would have the bodies loaded, and they could head back home. Then it dawned on him that he’d most likely need to drive the men’s bodies into town to the undertaker. He couldn’t imagine Mrs. Aldrich would want to tend to matters herself.

A muffled gunshot rang out. Micah looked to Mrs. Aldrich and then strained his gaze across the open range to where the Briar Bridge was situated across the ravine. He scanned the area for a sign of his father. There was nothing. He couldn’t imagine what had caused Dad to fire off a shot. He supposed it was possible that a coyote had strayed in, but he doubted it.

He reached the place where a makeshift path led into the gully below. Micah jumped down and reached back to help Mrs. Aldrich.

“Dad, we’re back!” he called and made his way toward the ledge. He looked down to where he knew he’d left the bodies of his friends. The sight caused him to step back in stunned silence. He slipped and hit the ground hard. It still couldn’t erase the image of what he’d just seen.

The gunshot they’d heard was Dad ending his life.