A Baby to Save The Scarred Rancher (Preview)

Chapter One

Ironwood Ridge, Texas 1870

Evelyn Carter checked over the kitchen one last time. Everything was spotless, just the way her stepfather, Frank Carter, liked. 

He was away for the entire day on merchant business, and with her chores taken care of, Evelyn gathered up the book she’d been reading and a basket to collect fresh herbs for cooking and drying.

She donned a hat to shade her eyes and stepped outside into the warm Texas morning. 

A buggy passed the house at a fast trot, kicking up a trail of dust in its wake. She coughed and waved her hand in front of her face.

As the air cleared, she smiled a little to herself and strolled across the wide verandah and down the steps. She glanced up. The sky was a magnificent blue with a few fluffy clouds here and there.

The large, two-story home she’d shared with her mother and stepfather sat at the end of town, away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life in Ironwood Ridge, but close enough that he could walk to his merchant business without tiring himself. 

Everyone in town knew who owned the big yellow house. Her stepfather was a man of means and power. None of that mattered to her. What did matter was that he’d taken them in when they’d been down on their luck after her father’s death. Maybe he didn’t care much for her, and maybe he was cold and stern, but he’d provided for her and her mother.

And because of it, she felt she owed him for those provisions. 

Evelyn took off down the street in her usual direction, toward the patch of woods at the edge of town. It was her favorite place to walk and gather herbs. And usually, if she had the time, she would find a mossy place to sit and read for as long as possible.  

It was her favorite thing to do besides cooking. Her mother had taught her to cook when she was very small, and she had loved it from the first little pudding she’d made by herself.

She hummed as she walked out of town. It pleased her that she reached the woods before passing any riders or wagons on the road as they always kicked up a choking amount of dust when passing by.

Still humming, she made her way into the woods. It was so peaceful there under the thick canopy of leaves. It wasn’t too dark in the woods as light burst through in blue-white rays in gaps between the trees. The rays of light gave the woods an ethereal look that always seemed special to her.

She spotted a patch of wildflowers growing in a sunny spot that she was pretty sure were bluebonnets—a rare find. Rather than picking a few, she admired them and left them undisturbed.

She loved the plants, birds, and animals that inhabited the woods and did her best to leave the plants and flowers as untouched as possible. She did pick herbs to use in her cooking, but that was her only exception.

A little further along and she thought she made out the grunting of wild pigs foraging along the forest floor. She turned away from them. Wild hogs could be dangerous, and she didn’t want them to know she was anywhere close. They were the only wild animals that truly frightened her.

Of course, there were other dangerous animals like bear, mountain lions, and wolves, but she’d never encountered any. It was too close to town to draw them. Or at least she thought that was the case.

From where she stood, she faintly heard the Stonelick River down in the valley as it made its journey to eventually spill into the larger Blout River. She loved to listen to the water tumble over rocks in the shallower places whenever she walked to the river’s edge.

She jumped as a pair of scissor-tailed flycatchers flitted over her head and vanished into the thick canopy.

Following a worn animal path, she went deeper into the woods. She picked herbs that she found along the way until she realized she’d walked much further than she’d ever gone before. The lowing of a cow told her she was near the big ranch at the far end where the woods ended.

She’d never seen the man who owned the property, but she knew he was known as The Beast.

A rustling through the underbrush alerted her that she wasn’t alone, and her heart lurched in her chest. A dog suddenly burst from the underbrush and bounded toward her, barking excitedly.

Her insides clenched up, and her heart pounded. She stumbled backward and fell over a chunk of wood or something buried in old leaves.

Then the dog was upon her, but his tail wagged so hard the entire lower half of his big body wagged with it. He yapped at her as if inviting her to get up and race through the woods with him.

The dog jumped a little, hopping up off his front feet with joyful energy and excitement that quickly calmed her. He meant her no harm. He wanted to play.

She sat up. “Hi boy,” she said. “I’m glad you’re friendly.” She patted his big head, and he licked her hand. “You certainly are a big fellow.”

Heavy footfalls came toward her. Someone was there besides her and this big, brown dog.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with a commanding presence stepped out from a cluster of trees. “Madoc, behave yourself,” he said in a sharp, demanding tone.

The dog immediately sat down beside Evelyn.

Her gaze was drawn to the man’s features which would have been quite handsome had he not had a deep scar running across the left side of his face. He had thick, dark brown, tousled hair and a trimmed beard, framing a face that was both rugged and sorrowful.

His eyes were a deep piercing blue that seemed to look right into her soul. A haunted, distant look in the depths betrayed pain and something she couldn’t identify.

His dress was simple and utilitarian.

He was unsettling, yet magnetic.

Was this Grant Harlow?

“Are you all right, miss?” he said in a soft, soothing tone that took her by surprise.

She let out a breath. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“I apologize for Madoc’s behavior,” he said. He came forward and offered his hand to assist her.

She took the outstretched hand and got to her feet. He released her immediately and stepped back. 

She brushed off her dress. “Thank you,” she said. “He’s a very friendly dog, and I just tripped. He didn’t knock me over.” She reached down and scratched his ears.

The dog’s entire backend wiggled.

He chuckled, then appeared to look surprised at his own response. “I’m Grant Harlow. And he is Madoc. My friend and protector.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Harlow. I’m Evelyn Carter.” He was nothing like she’d expected. He wasn’t some deformed monster. And he seemed nice enough.

“Of the Frank Carter family?” He lifted one eyebrow.

“I’m his step-daughter.”

He nodded.

She smiled at him.

His brow furrowed a bit.

She didn’t know what to make of this strange man. And she thought that perhaps he didn’t know what to make of her either.

“Well, I was out for a walk with Madoc. Since you’re all right, I’d best be on my way.”

He turned to the dog. “Madoc, come boy.”

The dog bounded to his master and a moment later they had disappeared back into the trees. It was almost like they had never been there.

She stared after the man, slightly unsettled. Then turned and scooped up her basket of herbs and retrieved her book.

She wanted to find a place to read, but she wasn’t sure she would be able to keep her mind on the story.

A blue-eyed stranger had filled her mind, and it was going to take more than a few minutes to clear him away.

She gazed off in the direction he’d gone. She’d heard about him, as had everyone else. And she was honestly surprised at his appearance. She’d thought he would be terrifying to gaze upon. That’s how he’d been described. He wasn’t. He was scarred, but the moniker, The Beast wasn’t right—in his appearance or demeanor. 

She couldn’t even imagine the tragedy he’d suffered, none of it deserved. He’d been the son of a wealthy and respected landowner. But a devastating fire had consumed their home, taken his parents, and his younger sister.

Word was that he’d been left not only physically scarred, but emotionally broken as well.

She’d heard that he lived in the house which was still half-burnt. She didn’t know how he could stand it like that. But it wasn’t any of her business. He seemed like a nice enough man, and that’s all that mattered.

A surge of pity for him struck her. No matter how bad living under the shadow of Frank Carter was, it was better than living in a shell of a home, filled with ghosts of the past.

She walked back the way she had come for a while, her mind filled with Grant Harlow.

Evelyn finally found a moss-covered log and she sank down on the soft, green covering. She opened her book and began to read about a young woman who hoped for her very own Prince Charming.

The story was pleasant and soon she was lost in the tale of knights and their ladies.

She wondered what it would be like to live such a fascinating and exciting life. Nothing of note ever happened to her. She let out a sigh and kept reading until it grew late enough that she had to hurry home before her stepfather beat her there.

Chapter Two

Grant tore himself from sleep to escape. He swam upward, heart pounding, pulling himself through darkness and flames devouring his family. His sister’s screams filling his head with anguish and suffocating guilt. 

He shot upward in bed, hands to his face, blotting out the nightmare once again. If only he could blot it out forever. But he didn’t deserve the peace that would bring.

He fell back to the mattress, panting, drenched in sweat. No matter how many times the dream came, it wrung him out, every single time. He pushed his hair back from his forehead and let out a long breath.

His sleep was over. He might as well get up and dress. The dream came frequently enough that he knew once he woke, he would be awake the rest of the night, no matter how little sleep he’d had before the dream came.

He tossed the covers back and climbed out of bed. After getting dressed, he went to the library, one of the rooms that hadn’t been damaged in the fire. The room was spacious with rows and rows of leather-bound books. A huge fireplace sat in the middle of the far wall and comfortable chairs had been arranged close to it.

He hadn’t built a fire in there since the accident that had destroyed everything he cared about. He didn’t care if it was hot or cold in the library when he sought refuge there.

He lit a lamp, illuminating the area around the chair he liked to sit in.

There were no windows in the library to fade the books. So there was no looking outside for a gage of the weather or anything else. The library was a place all its own and seemingly cut off from everything else when the door was closed. It was a world unto itself, and he liked it that way.

His father had loved to read, too, and the room had been his favorite, same as it was Grant’s favorite place. His father had the library built exactly the way he’d wanted it. Grant hadn’t changed a single thing about it and he never would. It was more or less a shrine to his father.

He pulled a book off the shelf and settled into the chair.

Reading was one of the few loves he had that he hadn’t given up. It helped him pass the time and when he got lost in the words … for a while, he forgot.

By the time he put the book down and glanced at the clock, it was nearly morning. He loved it when he became so lost in a story that hours passed like a blink. He would read some more before he left the library.

His mind drifted to the young woman he’d run into in the woods. She’d had a book, too. She was a reader like him. She had to be or she wouldn’t have had a book with her in the woods.

He wondered what her favorite kinds of books were.

****

“I thought I’d find you here,” Samuel said.

Samuel Waters, a kind-hearted ranch hand his father had hired many years ago, remained a loyal friend. His quiet, calm demeanor was good for Grant and was his only trusted companion.

Grant put the book down. He’d almost finished reading it.

“I brought some groceries,” Samuel said. “And this.” He handed a wad of money to Grant. “From the renters.”

“Thanks, Samuel. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.” He hardly ever left the property. He couldn’t stand the stares and whispers. So he appreciated that at the beginning of the month, Samuel went around collecting rent from his tenants on the smaller properties he’d purchased and rented out.

“I wish you’d hire a cook,” Samuel said. “I doubt you’ve had a decent meal since poor old Widow Johnson passed away.”

He was right about that. Losing Mrs. Johnson a month ago had been an unexpected blow. He’d known instantly when he got up and breakfast wasn’t waiting that something was terribly wrong.

He’d found the elderly lady in her bed, deceased. At least, she appeared to have gone peacefully with a bit of a smile on her lips. Maybe she knew that at long last, she was going to join the man she’d loved, and outlived by twenty-five years.

“No one would want to come here and work for me—The Beast,” he said in a gruff tone. He was sure of that.

“Oh, bosh. Someone who needed a job would come here in a minute.”

And even though he hated himself for it, his thoughts went to the pretty young woman he’d had a fleeting encounter in the woods with. Evelyn. She’d said her name was Evelyn. Her gaze had remained steady and a quiet kindness radiated from her. She hadn’t cowered like the others.

For the first time in years, the memory stirred something unfamiliar within him. He quickly buried it beneath layers of guilt and solitude. He needn’t even think about the pretty young woman. She was miles out of his league. Pursuing someone like her would be a waste of his time.

“I guess I’d better put the groceries away. How much were they, so I can pay you back?”

“Never mind. Some day you can do me a favor,” Samuel said and chuckled.

“I appreciate it, Samuel, but I can certainly pay you.”

Samuel waved his hand in dismissal. “I don’t need money. The misses makes good money as a seamstress.”

Now it was time for Grant to chuckle. “So I’ve heard.” There wasn’t anyone in Ironwood Ridge who didn’t know who Lydia Waters was. And if they didn’t have a dress she’d made, they wanted one.

“Well, I’d best get on with the day,” Samuel said. “I’ll let you put your groceries where you want them.”

Grant nodded. He wasn’t much of a cook. Maybe he should try to hire someone.

Samuel headed outside and Grant went to the spacious kitchen. It seemed so empty without the constantly cheerful Mrs. Johnson. She’d been part of his life for as long as he could remember.

She’d never flinched when she looked at his ugly visage. She’d always been kind to everyone and her cooking had been the very best. He would never find someone who could fill her shoes.

He sighed.

No use thinking about it now. He would just have to do the best he could for himself. Maybe later he would think about hiring someone. Maybe not.

He put away the groceries and debated what to do next.

He had plenty of help on the ranch when he needed it. 

Samuel was always there to help him. The others worked seasonally when he needed help with the spring calves and in late fall when the cattle were separated and somewhere sold.He didn’t need to work, but he liked to be useful. At least his hands didn’t give him disapproving stares. They didn’t care what he looked like.

But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he didn’t deserve to be stared at. After all, the fire had been his fault. He’d given his sister a book he’d bought for her, and a candle to read it by.

She and his parents had burned to death because of that candle.

****

Later in the day, Grant called Madoc to his side. He’d decided to walk in the woods. 

Besides reading, walking was one of his few pleasures in life. He usually didn’t go far though. There was always the chance of running into someone and frightening them.

He hadn’t scared Evelyn, and surely, she knew exactly who he was, too. There was no way she didn’t. A part of him wished everyone was like her. But he deserved everything he got. It was a just punishment considering he’d caused the death of his parents and sister in such a horrible manner.

He couldn’t bear thinking about the agony they had to have suffered before they succumbed to the blaze. He knew from the burns he’s sustained how painful they were. What he didn’t know was why he’d been spared.

“Let’s go, boy.”

Madoc wagged his tail and bounded forward.

Maybe the young woman would be out walking again.

He shook his head at his foolishness. Did he need someone that bad to talk to? Maybe he did. But he was pretty sure she wouldn’t be there. Regardless, he traced the same path he’d taken the day before.

He walked along familiar trails with Madoc bounding ahead. Much to his disappointment, he didn’t see Evelyn. Though he had no right to even wish she would be there, he couldn’t seem to help but hope she would.

He turned around and headed back to the house to find Samuel. He’d better spend his time helping his friend than looking for someone who he might never see again. 

He found Samuel repairing a fence behind one of the barns.

“I’ve come to help,” he said.

“Sure, I can always use a hand tightening the fence,” Samuel said.

Grant pulled on leather gloves and went to work.

They spent the next two hours repairing fence. It was a never ending chore. Cattle were notorious for walking the fences and any little break, no matter how small, would provide an escape route for the ornery animals.

“Well, that should keep them in,” Samuel said.

“Until they find another spot.”

Samuel nodded. “Which they will.”

Grant nodded. “I think I’m going to go put on some ham and bean soup.”

“Sounds good. You ever made it before?”

“Nope. But there’s no time like the present to figure it out.”

“You should hire a cook. I’m sure there are several people who would be interested in the job.”

“Maybe I will. I have to admit, I’m not very good at cooking.” Grant chuckled. “At this rate I’m going to starve to death.”

Samuel shook his head. “Just hire someone and be done with it.”

Grant trudged back to the house to try his hand at soup making. He’d almost asked Samuel to stay for supper. But his wife expected him to eat with her when their work day was done.

He wished he had someone to share meals with. 

That was ridiculous thinking. He wasn’t a fool. No one would want to eat with The Beast. And he supposed he couldn’t blame them.