This Cowboy's Heart Read online

  THIS COWBOY’S HEART

  BY CIA LEAH

  COPYRIGHT-2012-CIA LEAH

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, places, or incidents is co-incidental.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced without the written permission of the author.

  Jace Brandon heard a truck backfire as it rambled by. He punched his pillow and tried to go back to sleep, but it was too hot. “Why did people have to come back here on his property to park and make out, or pass out drunk in their cars? He was going to have to do something about that, starting tomorrow. He was damned tired of it. There was a million other places they could go.

  He slipped out of bed, wiping the sweat off his chest, and padded barefoot out to the front porch. At least it was cooler out here. Maybe he’d just grab a blanket and bed down out here, he thought, when he heard a soft moan. He shook his head. If he had a couple kids out in his field making out, he was going to rope and tie them to their car!

  He strode back inside, grabbed his flashlight, and went back out the door. He swept the light around, but didn’t see any vehicle. Maybe it was just the wind, he thought, turning to go back inside when he heard it again. He jumped off the porch, and walked down the road, shinning the light on each side. Someone was out here and he was determined to find him or her.

  He hopped on one foot when he stepped on a sharp rock. Besides being hot and miserable, it was only two in the morning and he’d had a busy day bailing the hay he’d cut the day before. He wanted to get it done before it rained, and now he wished it would. Maybe it would cool off this blasted heat wave they’d been stuck in for more than a month.

  Jace heard the moan again and shone his light to the right. A woman’s body lay on the side of the road. He ran over and knelt down next to her, shinning his light in her face. “Good Lord,” he whispered, seeing the bruises on her face, the bloody lip, and the dried blood under her nose. “Miss?” he asked, shinning his light down her body. Her white blouse was torn, her jeans dirty, and her feet were bare.

  “Oh my God,” he said, laying the light down to shine on her. He ran his fingers over her head and found a lump on the back. He quickly checked her for broken ribs and bones, but felt sure none were broken.

  Jace shook his head. There was only one thing for him to do and that was to pick her up and take her back to his place. He didn’t use a cell phone, didn’t have a landline, and lived on his place by his own standards.

  He stood up, placed his hands under her and lifted her up as he rose to his feet. She weighed next to nothing. So fragile, he thought, and it made him mad that someone had beaten her up. His mother had always taught him that if you had to hit a woman, then you weren’t much of a man.

  In minutes he had her back to his place. He laid her on his bed, and put water on to heat. She needed those cuts tended to. He probably should take her to the hospital, but he’d see what she wanted to do when she came to.

  When the water was hot, he filled his Ma’s spit bath pan that had been her grandma’s, grabbed a washcloth, and walked over to kneel beside the bed. He quickly cleaned her up, applied some antiseptic to her cuts and pulled the quilt over her. She was shivering and he was sure it was from shock and the ordeal she’d been though.

  Feeling he’d done all he could for now, he went to the kitchen and heated up a can of soup, sliced a piece of corn bread and put butter on it. As he ate, he kept glancing across the room to where she lay, hoping she would awaken soon, so he could see what she wanted him to do.

  He also wondered what she would think of his place. It was a sturdy cabin, he’d built himself, but with no frills. It was all one room. There was the kitchen, a living area, with a huge stone fireplace, and then the bed against the outer wall. His dresser sat below the bed against the wall and behind his bedroom was a small bath with a sink, shower, and commode. He didn’t need much. His Ma and Pa were dead, and his sister had long ago moved away when she married. He never saw her much, but did receive letters from her once in a while.

  Jace finished eating, put his dishes in the sink, then grabbed his bedroll, and walked out onto the porch. He’d bed down in front of the open door so he could hear the woman if she woke. As he settled in for the night, he whispered a silent prayer that God help the woman and help him to do what was best for her.

  ***

  Mia Dawson woke from a deep sleep. She hurt all over and when she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, she winced before opening her eyes. It took a few blinks of her eyelids to focus, and when her vision cleared, she glanced around at the room. Where was she? Had he brought her here? Her heartbeat accelerated until she raised a hand to her chest, trying to breathe past the fear that enveloped her.

  She threw back the quilt covering her and sat up to let her feet rest on the floor. Nausea hit her and she gulped to keep from throwing up. Inhaling several deep breaths, she stood and swayed. The blow to her head must have given her a concussion, she thought, sitting back down, when she saw a man standing in the doorway. She scooted back against the wall, fear racing down her spine. She watched as he walked inside the room, move to the stove, and put on coffee. He didn’t say anything until he was finished with the task, and then turned to sit at the table. He was tall, about six foot four, she’d say, shirtless, with a washboard stomach and bulging muscles in his arms. His jeans rode low on his hips, with the top button unbuttoned. His thick black hair was cut short, his eyebrows thick but well defined for a man, and his eyes were the color of storm clouds on a rainy day.

  “You okay?” he asked, cutting a piece of something from a pan on the table. “You hungry?”

  Mia didn’t utter a word, but just watched him.

  He took a bite of something and looked at her again. “I found you out there on my place. You’re pretty beat up. I tended to your wounds, and then let you sleep. I wasn’t sure if you would want me to take you to a hospital or go to the police, but thought it best you decide what you wanted to do.”

  Mia wet her lips again and winced. Her lip was so sore and it burned when she wet them. She remained quiet, just staring at him. She watched him get up and pour two cups, set one on the other side of the table from him, and motion for her to come and get it. She stayed where she was.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. You might feel better if you get something to drink and eat in you. If there’s anyplace you want me to take you, just tell me and I will.”

  Mia felt her heartbeat slow. Did she dare trust this man? God, after her uncle’s abuse and beatings, she never wanted to trust another man. Yet, she would like some coffee. No food because her stomach couldn’t handle that right now. Her fear held her in place as they both stared at each other. When he got up and lifted the coffee cup and advanced towards her, she pressed against the wall. She couldn’t stop the trembling that seized her.

  “I’m really not going to hurt you,” he said, squatting down by the bed, and holding the cup out to her. I put some cream and sugar in it for you.”

  Mia decided that if this man were going to harm her, he’d have done it by now. She reached out and carefully took the cup from him. She cradled it in both hands, soaking up the warmth. “Thank you,” she whispered and took a sip, wincing again when the hot liquid touched her lips.

  “You have a nasty split lip. There’s a tube of lip balm on that little stand if you want to use it. Has a numbing effect. Might help some.”

  She watched as he rose to his feet and walked to the dresser. He opened a drawer, pulled out a shirt, and slipped it on. She sipped the coffee and sighed.

  “I’ve got barn work and farm work to do. If you’re sure you don’t need to go to the police or anything, then make yourself at home. There’s a bath back there behind you.”

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p; “Thank you,” she said softly.

  He turned as he went out the door. “My name is Jace Brandon. I’ll be back around noon.”

  Mia didn’t say anything. He shrugged and left.

  She sat there for a long time, sipped at her coffee until it was gone, then scooted off the bed, being careful to hold onto it until the dizziness passed. She walked to the door and looked out. She saw Jace across the road working on a tractor. He was shirtless again. As if he sensed her watching him, he rose up and glanced towards the house, then resumed what he was doing.

  Mia turned and walked to the kitchen and poured herself more coffee and sat down at the table. Se put sugar and cream in it, and then reached for the pan of cornbread. She was so hungry. Her uncle hadn’t let her eat in days.

  Fear of him returning for her or to see if she was dead, made her shiver in fear. Hopefully he would just think he’d killed her when he dumped her body out of the truck. She sliced a big piece of the cornbread and spread butter on it off the plate sitting on the table. She bit into it, and groaned, despite her sore lip. She finished it off and felt her stomach settle. Besides the knot on her head, she was probably nauseated from not eating in so long. She felt some better.

  She pushed up from the table and went to the bathroom. She looked in the small mirror. Her right eye was black and blue. Bruises marred her cheek and chin. Her lower lip was swollen sporting a wide, nasty split was on the right side. Her neck had bruises where her uncle had almost chocked the life out of her. A sudden need filled her to wipe all traces of his hands off her; she closed the door, locked it, and stripped.

  Adjusting the shower to the hottest water she could stand, she stepped inside and let it sluice over her body. Pure heaven, she thought, as the steam rose and soothed her. She grabbed the soap, the scent spicy, and rubbed it between her hands until the suds were dripping to the bottom of the shower. She washed three times before she felt clean, and then used the shampoo and washed her hair twice, wincing when her hands ran over the bump on her head.

  For awhile she just stood under the spray, letting the tears come, letting them fall, and be rinsed away by the water, until there was no hot water left. She turned off the spigot, stepped out, grabbed the towel hanging on the rack, and dried off. When she picked up her clothes, she wrinkled her nose. His scent, his sweat, was still on it. She couldn’t abide putting them back on. She wrapped the towel around her; pulled open the door, peeked out, and finding she was alone, walked to the dresser and pulled out a shirt and a pair of jeans. They would be way too big, but would do until she got her clothes washed out and dried.

  After she completed the task of dressing and hanging her clothes on top the shower door to dry, she walked back to look out the door. The tractor was gone and she glanced to the field on the right and saw Jace driving it with a wagon or something hooked behind it. There must be a lot to do here, she thought, glancing around at the open fields that surrounded the cabin. She wondered if he owned all this, and her instincts told her did. It was well cared for land.

  Stepping out onto the porch, she walked down the couple steps and around to the back. A big garden with ripe tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce, radishes, and all kinds of good stuff beckoned to her. She quickly picked a few tomatoes, pulled up some lettuce, radishes, white and red, and pulled Jace’s shirt out of the rolled up waistband of his pants and made a makeshift sack to carry the produce back inside. She dumped the contents on the sink and began washing them. Even though she was still frightened her uncle would return, she felt safer here than she ever had in her home since her adopted parents died. Sadness assailed her. She missed them with all her heart. Her father, especially, since he always cared for her, showing a father’s love, and teaching her right from wrong, how to be a lady, and how to respect others.

  Sometimes she thought she learned that lesson too well, for she had never fought back when her uncle bullied her or made her life miserable. Of course, he’d never done that around her father, and she didn’t have the heart to tell him because she knew he loved his family dearly. She couldn’t be the one to break his heart or cause him any stress.

  After her parents passed within a year of each other, things changed. She couldn’t inherit the farm or her money until she was twenty-five. She knew her father thought that to be an age where she would know what she was doing and have a good set of values. He worried with the way the world was today her inheritance would be too alluring to taste the world with all its temptations. He should have known he had taught her better than that. Leaving his brother to manage her inheritance and her life was a living nightmare. Harold Dawson was pure evil and never worked a day in his life. She figured her dad felt he had taken care of him enough. Sure, her dad left him money, but he squandered it away on women and booze, always accusing her of being devious and that she wasn’t a Dawson by rights and should have none of it.

  She tossed the salad, looked in the freezer and found a package of hamburgers. She ran some hot water over then, took the paper off, and soon had them frying in a cast iron skillet. Even though she was bruised and heartsick, she owed Jace for taking her in and caring for her. She was also grateful he didn’t call the police or take her to a hospital. That would have made matters worse. She only had four more days and her inheritance was hers. Then she was going to take control of the farm and kick Harold’s ass out the door. She could care less what happened to him, and though, she had a conscience that sometimes wouldn’t quit, not allowing her to do something wrong, she steeled her heart and mind to the fact that he deserved what he got. She wouldn’t have to be dependant upon him or have him in her life any longer, if he didn’t come back and kill her first.

  ***

  Jace drove the tractor to the barn and jumped off. He sniffed the air. Something sure smelled good and he was ravenous. The only person who could be cooking in his cabin was the woman. Heck, he didn’t even know her name yet. Maybe she was feeling better and more at ease. Leaving her alone by herself to come to terms with what happened to her was probably for the best. Several times he’d berated himself for taking off like that, but he wanted to get that gate up. No one would be driving into his place again without him opening the padlocked gate.

  He walked to the cabin, stepped up on the porch and went inside. “Is that hamburgers I smell?” He watched as she turned from the sink. She’d cleaned up and his clothes hung on her, but she looked some better.

  “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. Smells really good.” He went to the sink when she stepped away and washed his hands and face. Grabbing the towel hanging on the knob of the cupboard, he dried off. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Least I could do to help you out. What’s your name?”

  “Mia.”

  “Well, nice to meet you, Mia. If the food’s ready, lets eat.”

  He sat down at the table that was already set and waited as she poured them each a cup of coffee and joined him. He bowed his head and said grace, then reached for the plate of burgers with onions and potatoes. “This is a real treat for me. Usually I just open a can of soup.”

  “You don’t know how to cook?”

  “Didn’t say that. I do, but usually don’t take the time unless it’s for Sunday dinner.” He watched her put some food on her plate and start eating. He knew her lip made it hard because she chewed slowly, wincing once in a while. He wasn’t going to ask her what happened until they’d eaten. He wanted her to feel at ease and he figured if he brought last night up, she would push her plate away.

  “My dad always cooked. He was the best.”

  “My Ma was too. Your folks gone?” He saw her nod and noticed the sadness in her sky blue eyes. “Mine too,” he said, knowing how she felt.

  They ate in silence until they were both done. He watched her get up to clear the table. “I’ll do the dishes. I’m sure you still aren’t feeling too good.”

  “I’m fine, really.”

>   Jace watched as she worked. “Want to tell me about it? I don’t mean to pry, but it isn’t every day that I find a woman beat up on my property. By the way, I put up a gate today and no one can drive in here, so you don’t have to be scared. The fence has barbed wire on top and the gate too, so be at ease and don’t worry.”

  Mia sighed and felt the tears fall down her cheeks. No one had done anything to help her before, even though a few people knew her uncle was beating her. She flopped down on the chair and cried. She was grateful he didn’t embrace her, but just sit and wait for the tears to ebb.

  “Take your time, Mia. You’ve been through a great deal. I’ll pour us a cup of coffee.”

  She nodded. “Thanks.”

  Jace set a cup before her and sat down with his. “Sugar and cream?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “My Ma always took her coffee that way. Wouldn’t drink it black or with just cream or just sugar. Had to be both. Guess you are a woman just like Ma was.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said.

  “She was a fine woman.”

  “My uncle beat me and threw me out of his truck,”

  Jace listened without interrupting as she told him the whole story. His heart broke at what she was going through. When she finally fell silent, he decided to ask what was on his mind. “Did he ever take advantage of you?”

  “He tried several times, but only when he was drunk. It was easy to get away from him because he drank until he could hardly stand up. I’d trip him and he’d fall, or scramble out of his way and he’d run into the wall. I’d run to my room, lock my door and push the dresser against it. He’d rant and rave for a while, but would always stumble to his room and pass out. I guess that is the only times that I was grateful that he drank so much.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the police?”

  “I thought about it, but he watched me all the time. I had no car or anything. It was like I was a prisoner in my own home.”