Esmeralda Delgado is a traditional country girl in a place too small for her. She speaks out when it’s proper for ladies to be silent and has opinions on things she ought not to speak about. She is clever, determined, and beautiful, although no matter how hard tries, she cannot make ripples in the smooth surface of her hometown. Life goes on in the quiet little town of Clay Hollow as it always had until the arrival of ruthless cattle rustlers throws everyone into turmoil. For Esmeralda and her family, this is a serious problem. As ranchers, losing their cattle would be the death of their livelihood. Just when she believes things can’t get any worse, she finds a wounded stranger hiding in the hayloft. He asks for her help, and claims that he is here to arrest the cattle rustlers, if he can. What’s more, the stranger insists that he has a personal stake in catching the gang of cattle rustlers. The stranger claims to be able to fix their cattle rustling problem altogether, and Esmeralda finds herself irresistibly drawn to him. However, these are dangerous times, and not everything is as it seems.
Can Esmeralda believe a word he says?
Matthew Broadmoor is a bounty hunter with an exceptional run of bad luck. Never the easiest of professions, Matthew feels as though he’s run out of time, energy, and luck. Alone, exhausted, and now with a gunshot wound in his shoulder, Matthew crawls into a barn to hide from a murderous gang of cattle rustlers. He feels sure that his luck has run out, and that he’s soon to join his recently deceased friend.
Then he meets Esmeralda.
Matthew is immediately bewitched by this beautiful, intelligent, and kind young woman who cares for him and keeps his secret. He finds himself looking forward to her visits, and dreaming of a day when he and Esmeralda might have a future outside of the hayloft, if only she might share his feelings. And, of course, assuming that Esmeralda’s parents don’t find him and shoot him in the head. However, there are dangerous men in Clay Hollow, and the threat may not just come from outside the town.
Can Matthew convince Esmeralda of his innocence? Can he win her heart along with her trust?
Everything Esmeralda has ever known is about to be turned on its head, and Matthew will find his worldview challenged in a way he never expected. For these two young people, this will be the adventure of a lifetime… if they survive, that is. Together, Matthew and Esmeralda face murderous gang members, stampedes, family problems, a familiar face on a Wanted poster, and a threat from the very heart of Clay Hollow itself.
Chapter One
Clay Hollow, Arizona, 1893
“And I’m telling you, Sheriff, that this plan of yours is going to get us all killed!”
There was a little silence at that. People glanced nervously at each other, not daring to mutter their worries aloud. The sheriff glowered down at the man who had spoken, John Delgado.
At the back of the small barn, especially cleared out for this purpose, Esmeralda held her breath. She silently cursed her father and his runaway tongue. She considered the idea of speaking up herself, but it had always been made clear on her previous visits that her input wasn’t particularly appreciated. While Esmeralda might have lived her whole life on a ranch, she was, after all, only a woman.
So that left John and his inability to keep his mouth shut to represent the Delgado ranch. Why couldn’t he just stay quiet for once? Sheriff Marcus Steele was a man living on the edge. Everyone knew that. His nerves were a frayed rope, only a couple of threads from snapping altogether.
On cue, the sheriff’s deputy stepped forward.
“Well, now, I think it’s getting late, don’t you?” he said pleasantly. “I reckon we’re all tired and sore from the day’s work. Why don’t we go on home now, and reconvene later on?”
“And what would have changed later on?” John insisted. He was the only one sitting in the room. A chair had been put out just for him, and the fact he had to sit while everyone else stood was probably making him more grouchy than usual. “We’re just postponing the inevitable. That man,” he paused to point directly at Sheriff Steele’s face, “wants to take our guns. Our rifles, our shotguns. Now, I’m all for protecting us, and I hate guns as much as the next man, but I just don’t think that the proper response to a string of stolen cattle is to take our guns from us.”
There was a murmuring of agreement at that.
Esmeralda sighed, slumping back against the rough, splintery wood of the barn. They’d agreed to meet in the Delgado barn, so that John wouldn’t have to travel too far. He couldn’t ride at the moment, with his leg, and cart rides were horribly painful. Still, he preferred to ride by cart than by horse; he had more control that way. With horse riding, you used your legs to control the horse, which John, of course, could not do.
Apparently, her Pa was going to repay their consideration by being sharp and argumentative tonight.
Wonderful.
“I’ve thought about it every which way, John,” Marcus said, his voice calm and assured. “And this is the best way to keep us all safe.”
Marcus was around fifty, five years older than John himself. There’d been an accident with a runaway horse ten years ago that had nearly garroted Marcus to death. He’d survived, of course, but there was a raised white scar across the front of his throat, and his voice had never been the same. It was hoarse and scratchy, like he had a really bad cold. It sounded strange, but of course, everyone in their small town was used to it by now.
“I don’t have any objections to your ban on guns in the town,” John said. “I have no intention of breaking that rule. Hell, I think it’s a good idea. But for us out here in the outlying ranches, things are dangerous. Bears, wolves, bandits, to say nothing of those damn cattle rustlers. We need our shotguns out here.”
There was another murmur of agreement, louder this time.
Poor Bill Berkley, who’d slunk back into the shadows when his attempt to diffuse the situation had failed, sighed audibly. He glanced across the crowd, meeting Esmeralda’s eye, and pulled a face.
She suppressed a smile. Bill was nice. He was in his thirties somewhere, and a placid, easy-going sort of man. Sometimes she felt that if she was just a little more encouraging, Bill would want to step out with her. But she wasn’t, and he didn’t push the limits of their friendship. That was just fine with her.
Marcus nudged Bill, who flinched as if he’d been caught doing something wrong, not just smiling at a friend.
“Well, nobody’s guns are banned just yet,” Marcus said heavily. “This is just a meeting to sound you all out. Nothing’s happening tonight, or tomorrow, for that matter. I just have our best interests at heart, that’s all. Now let’s go on home, or else we’ll be here all night.”
That was that, then.
Esmeralda didn’t like guns. She could use a shotgun and a pistol, of course. Her Pa had taught her to shoot as soon as she could lift a gun. But out here, they were tools. Insurance. If a crazy-looking man with an ax or maybe a gun of his own came wobbling up your path, you could stand on your porch and point your shotgun until he took the hint and went on his way.
If cattle rustlers started stealing your prize heifers in the middle of the night, a few good shots out of the window would scare them away.
That last one wasn’t so much a hypothetical situation as a straight probability. A few ranches had been targeted recently, with dozens of heads of cattle stolen.
Cattle that the average rancher and his family couldn’t afford to lose.
The men filed past Esmeralda, mumbling their goodbyes. There was a sour mood now, with men shooting angry glances at Marcus and Bill, even though poor Bill had nothing to do with any of this.
John waited until everyone was gone. Then he sighed, slumping over his in-seat.
“Well, that was a damn waste of time. Come on, girl, come help me get up.”
Esmeralda moved over to her father, ready to help lever him into a standing position. She had his crutches tucked under her arm, roughly carved wooden sticks with a smooth part to go under his armpit, so he could rest his weight on the sticks.
Anne had carved them. She was clever with things like that. Although lots of people didn’t seem to think that whittling was a suitable skill for a nineteen-year-old girl who ought to be busying herself with looking for a husband. John didn’t care. He was more than a little smug in showing off his new crutches in town, lovingly carved by his daughter’s own hands.
“You shouldn’t provoke the sheriff like that,” Esmeralda said quietly, letting John drape his arm over her shoulder and heave himself upright. “It’ll cause trouble.”
John scoffed, transferring his weight to the crutches his daughter held out for him.
“Somebody’s got to tell him. Do you want him to ban our guns up here, too? Saying we’re too close to town is just silly. Your Mama had to scare off a bear just the other month. What would she have done if there was no shotgun over the mantelpiece?”
“I’m not arguing with you, Pa. I just worry that the sheriff will get spiteful. He’s been acting strange lately.”
Her father went quiet at that. Not much argument he could offer, since Sheriff Steele had been acting strangely.
John’s leg was broken in two places. It was a bad break, but they had a good surgeon in town, and he was healing well. He couldn’t use the leg at all yet, and it was clear that he was in pain. He never really complained, though.
Everyone said that Esmeralda and her Pa were like two peas in a pod. Esmeralda had inherited his thick, straight auburn hair, although hers hung down her back in thick braids, while his was close-cropped and speckled with gray. They were a short, stocky pair, olive skin tanning easily in the sun, and they were both strong from years of hard labor and running a ranch.
Her two sisters were all her mother’s daughters. They were slim, with milky skin, black hair, and had pretty oval faces. All the women of the family had the same eyes, though. Clear green, green as grass in spring.
The barn was only a short walk from the house, but it seemed to take forever to cross the courtyard. It had been late afternoon when the meeting first started, but now the sun was gone and the moon looked coldly down, bathing the cracked paving stones beneath their feet in a silvery light. Something howled out in the hills, and Esmeralda shivered.
All the homes outside of town were like this. Isolated, quiet, pretty in the daytime, and scary at night. The mountains loomed behind them, and everywhere you walked seemed to be uphill. There were bears in the forest, wolves too, and poisonous snakes slithered through the undergrowth.
And now, of course, there were cattle rustlers, too. The town was in panic, and the outlying ranchers were even more frantic. After all, whose cattle would be stolen? Theirs, of course.
Old Mr. Rutherford had died only last week trying to defend his cattle from the thieves. One of the rustlers had shot him in the leg. He might not have died from that, but of course, he was old and frail. He’d keeled over right there in the courtyard. He wasn’t found until the next morning, when his ranch foreman arrived to find Mr. Rutherford dead and the paddocks empty, gates swinging wide.
That had started all this, really. There’d been some naysayers who didn’t want to believe that there was a problem at all, claiming that the rustlers were just opportunistic louts who only struck once or twice before disappearing forever. Maybe they’d hoped that it was just lazy ranchers and unlocked gates, and no cattle had been stolen at all.
The sheriff had started to make changes then, and not everyone agreed with those changes.
They reached the porch steps at last, and Esmeralda heaved a sigh of relief. Aside from the glimmering lights of their house, the landscape around was pitch black. Anything could be out there. Or anyone.
The door opened ahead of them, letting out a beam of light and warmth. Carlotta Delgado stood there, chewing nervously on her nails. It was a bad habit, and her poor fingernails were nibbled down to the quick.
“How’d it go?” she asked hopefully. “John? Is your leg bad?”
“No, nothing to worry about,” John said reassuringly, despite the fact that his face was clearly twisted in pain. “Something smells good in there, Lottie!”
That worked well enough to distract her. Carlotta’s face lit up.
“Oh, it’s a new recipe that I found in one of those old books. You know, the ones Mrs. Harrison left me. It’s a stew, but…”
She rambled on about food, and Esmeralda stopped listening.
Carlotta Delgado was, as everyone knew, a highly strung woman. Maybe it was her wild daughters, except the staid Anne, or her husband, that couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Carlotta saw danger everywhere, and it seemed like an exhausting way to live. John did his best to help with that, and Esmeralda was uncomfortably aware that she didn’t make things as easy for her mother as she should do.
“Come on in, Esmeralda, dinner’s on the table,” Carlotta called, looping her arm around John’s waist.
Esmeralda cast one last searching look across the landscape. The light from the open doorway had blinded her again, and she could barely see beyond the courtyard now. Nothing moved out there, anyway. Sighing, she hurried inside after her parents, closing and locking the door behind them for the night.
Everyone locked their doors now.
*
“You ought to go easier on Marcus, John,” Carlotta murmured. Her voice was full of reproach. “He hasn’t had a good time of things lately.”
The five Delgado family members clustered around a table that was really only designed for four. Every square inch of the surface had something on it: a plate, an elbow, or a bowl of food. The stew that Carlotta had made really was delicious. Since she normally made delicious food anyway, that was saying something. She’d made cornbread, greens, and a tasty chicken gravy to go along with it.
As usual, there’d be no leftovers. Maria, the youngest Delgado girl, dived in for the last piece of cornbread, earning herself a glare from Esmeralda. Unashamed, Maria took a big bite. Esmeralda rolled her eyes.
“I know, I know,” John grumbled. “But you would think he’d learn. This was the behavior that drove off his wife, poor woman.”
“Poor woman? She left her husband. And his son… oh, that breaks my heart. He was so proud of Michael being a lawman.”
Carlotta sighed, shaking her head, and dabbled a piece of bread in the remains of her gravy.
“Yeah, but he’s got two more sons, hasn’t he? Sure, Blake’s real mean, but Freddie’s nice.” Maria said, spraying cornbread crumbs everywhere. Maria was fourteen and should really be at the age where she wanted to do interesting things with her hair and whisper in low giggles about the boys in her schoolroom.
That didn’t seem to have happened to Maria just yet.
“Maria Anne Delgado, if you don’t close your mouth while you eat, I will send you to your room without supper for a whole week.”
“Sorry, Mama.”
“That’s better. And it doesn’t matter that he has other children. Losing a child is something that hurts real bad. Do you think that if one of you died, I’d be all happy and fine about it just because I have too more?”
That seemed to sober Maria up. She stared down at her plate, aghast, cheeks bulging out with cornbread.
Esmeralda didn’t talk much while she ate. It would be difficult to get a word in, anyway. Besides, if she wasted time talking, she wouldn’t get any food.
Maria had snatched up the last piece of cornbread, and Esmeralda hadn’t even had any.
“Psst, Esme,” Anne whispered. “You can have my cornbread, if you like.”
Sweet, selfless Anne. She was so kind that she frequently made Esmeralda feel like a cold, selfish shrew of a woman. Esmeralda was twenty-three now, and she’d given up on blossoming into a warm-hearted sweetheart.
“It’s alright, Anne. You have it.”
“Was it really as bad as it sounded? I went out to double-check the locks on the animal paddocks, and I could hear people shouting in the barn.”
Esmeralda glanced up at her father, who was busily scraping out the last of the stew into his own bowl.
“It was that bad,” she mumbled. “Marcus wants to ban guns out here, too.”
Anne sucked in a breath. “That’s a really bad idea. In town is fine, but…”
“I know, I know. Pa said something about it, and Marcus wasn’t happy. Bill tried to smooth things over, but we haven’t heard the last of this. You mark my words.”
Anne bit her lip, staring down at her half-finished plate of food. Esmeralda, who’d already finished hers, resisted the urge to reach over and help herself. Why did Anne eat so slowly?
“I’m glad that Bill was there,” Anne said after a while. “Mama was worried that things would go bad in there and you’d get hurt. There weren’t any other women in that meeting.”
“Mama worries too much. I had to be there for Pa.”
“Well, Bill would always make sure that you were alright, at least.”
Esmeralda glanced sharply at her sister. Anne was resolutely not meeting her eye, pretending to inspect her plate instead.
Anne was not good at being sneaky.
“What exactly are you implying, Anne?”
“Nothing, I just…” Anne trailed off, shrugging. “Bill likes you a lot.”
“Yeah, we’re friends.”
“You might be more than friends if you gave him a little encouragement. He’s barely thirty-four. That’s not too old.”
“I’m not interested in Bill, Anne. He’s nice, and we’re friends, but no.”
Anna glanced furtively around the table, making sure that nobody was listening in.
“What more would you want from a husband, Esme? Bill’s nice.”
“You marry him, then.”
She sighed. “I worry about you, Esmeralda.”
“I think Mama worries enough about me. About all of us, actually.”
“Have you thought about what would happen to us if something happened to Pa?”
Esmeralda stiffened. She was wiping her finger around the plate, even though it was already more or less, sparkling clean by now.
“Don’t talk like that, Anne.”
“I’m serious. I know it’s awful to think of, but we’re in a bad place here. The animals that live out there are dangerous enough, but now there are cattle rustlers, too. Don’t you think they’d make a beeline for a ranch with only four women to protect it? If word gets out that Pa can’t even stand without his crutches…”
“It’s way too late for that.”
“Don’t make jokes, Esme. And if Marcus bans our guns…”
“He won’t ban our guns. Not out here. Just in the town. Which, frankly, is a good idea. Who wants to see some idiot bank clerk toting his pistol to the market? What use would anyone have for a shotgun in town? It’s stupid.”
Anne pressed her lips together tightly, a sure sign that she was highly irritated but not willing to show how annoyed she felt. She got up abruptly and started to clear away the plates.
Esmeralda sat where she was, staring down at the space where her plate had sat. She should get up and offer to help with the dishes, but her energy seemed to have drained right out of her. She kept turning over what had been said in the barn. Marcus Steele’s face was tight and grim these days, and there were lines on his face that hadn’t been there before. He hadn’t been right since Michael’s death, but now he was… well, he was a little odd. Esmeralda couldn’t put her finger on it, but he had a strange sort of inward-looking expression, as if he were worrying over something only he could see.
“Early night tonight, honey?” Carlotta asked, patting Esmeralda’s head as she passed by, and jerking her daughter out of her thoughts.
“Hm? Oh, yeah, I think so, Mama. I’m so tired.”
John was sitting back in his seat, eyes fixed on nothing.
“I’ll sit up a spell, I think,” he said, and for the first time, Esmeralda noticed that his shotgun was sitting across his lap. When had he got that out?
“Don’t be up too late, John,” Carlotta said, the little worry line appearing between her brows again.
Esmeralda knew exactly what was going on. Marcus and Bill were going to patrol the fields at night for a while, hoping to discourage the rustlers from striking again. But there were only two of them, and they needed to sleep sometime.
Without the cattle in their paddocks, the ranchers wouldn’t survive the next year. This wasn’t just a case of profit and loss. It was life and death.
The Delgado family was no exception.
John’s hand tightened around the barrel of the gun.
“Just for a little while,” he repeated. “I don’t sleep well these days.”
“An Aching Heart in Hiding” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!
Esmeralda Delgado’s heart longs for adventure and the promise of a life beyond the dusty plains of her small town. However, when ruthless cattle rustlers threaten her family’s ranching business, her dreams are put on hold. That is until a wounded stranger appears claiming he can help her catch the thieves. Esmeralda cannot help but feel drawn to this enigmatic man, yet danger lurks around every corner, leading her to doubt whether he is who he claims to be.
Will Esmeralda be able to trust him to save her family’s ranch?
Matthew Broadmoor is a bounty hunter with a knack for finding trouble. After a string of bad luck and a gunshot wound, he seeks refuge in Esmeralda’s barn. As he begins to heal and grow closer to Esmeralda though, he finds himself opening up to her in ways he never thought possible. The more he struggles to save her family’s livelihood, he realizes that he would do anything to keep her safe. However, Matthew’s troubled past threatens to raise its ugly head as their relationship blossoms.
Can he convince Esmeralda that he’s worthy of her love?
As their pursuit leads them deeper into the heart of danger, Esmeralda and Matthew must confront their own demons and the powerful attraction that’s growing between them. When betrayal strikes from an unexpected source though, they’re forced to question everything they thought they knew about each other. Can they find the strength to forgive and forget, or will the secrets of the past tear them apart forever?
“An Aching Heart in Hiding” is a historical western romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.
Hello there, dear readers! I hope you enjoyed the preview. Let me know what you think on your comments below. I’ll be waiting! Thank you 🙂