PART 2 — THE WOMAN HE CALLED A BURDEN BECAME HIS ONLY HOPE

“Jeb!”

Maddie’s voice disappeared beneath the howling wind.

She pushed through the barn door, nearly losing her footing as the blizzard drove snow across the wooden floor. The lantern hanging beside the entrance swung violently, casting long, trembling shadows over the stalls.

Then she heard it again.

A groan.

“Over here…”

Maddie turned toward the far end of the barn.

Jeb lay beneath a fallen support beam, one leg trapped under a pile of broken timber. His coat was covered in snow, and blood had darkened the sleeve of his shirt.

“Good Lord!”

She rushed toward him.

“What happened?”

“The roof…” he muttered. “One of the supports gave way.”

Maddie dropped to her knees.

“Can you move?”

“My leg’s pinned.”

She examined the beam. It was heavy, but one end rested against a stack of old feed barrels. She grabbed a wooden lever and tried to lift it.

Nothing happened.

She tried again.

The timber shifted slightly.

“Jeb, when I lift this, pull your leg toward you.”

“You can’t move that thing.”

“Perhaps you should save your strength for getting out.”

He stared at her.

Even through the pain, he recognized something in her voice.

It was the same determination she had shown when she turned his spoiled grain into feed.

Maddie repositioned the lever, braced her boots against the floor, and pushed with everything she had.

The beam rose just enough.

Jeb dragged his leg free.

A moment later, the timber crashed back down.

Maddie fell backward, breathing hard.

“Can you stand?”

Jeb tried.

His face twisted with pain.

“I don’t think so.”

“Then we’ll do it another way.”

She pulled his arm over her shoulders and helped him sit against the nearest stall.

The walk back to the farmhouse became a struggle neither would forget.

The snow was already knee-deep, and the wind repeatedly pushed them sideways. Twice, Jeb nearly collapsed. Twice, Maddie refused to let him stay down.

When they finally reached the house, she helped him onto the bed and immediately examined his injured leg.

It was badly bruised, but thankfully there was no obvious deformity.

She cleaned the cut on his arm, wrapped it with fresh linen, and placed warm blankets over him.

Jeb watched her work.

“Where did you learn to do all that?”

“My mother.”

“She was a nurse?”

“No. She was a farmer’s daughter who never had enough money to call a doctor.”

Maddie finished tying the bandage.

“She taught me how to care for people when there was nobody else to do it.”

Jeb looked at her hands.

They were rough from hauling water and chopping wood. A small cut crossed one knuckle, and her fingers were red from the cold.

He remembered the first day at the depot.

He remembered looking at her and thinking she was incapable of surviving his ranch.

Now he was lying in the bed while she had saved his life.

“Maddie…”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

She stopped.

“For what?”

He swallowed.

“For the way I treated you.”

Maddie lowered her eyes.

“You’ve said worse things than you know, Jeb.”

“I know.”

“No. I don’t think you do.”

He looked at her.

She sat on the chair beside the bed.

“When I arrived at that station, I had ten dollars, one suitcase, and nowhere else to go. I knew you hadn’t asked for a woman like me. But I thought if I worked hard enough, perhaps I could earn a place here.”

Jeb closed his eyes.

“And when you told me I would never be your wife, I decided I wouldn’t beg you to love me.”

Her voice softened.

“I only wanted a home where I wouldn’t be treated like something shameful.”

Jeb turned his face toward the window.

For the first time in years, he had no defense.

“I was wrong,” he whispered.

Maddie stood.

“Rest. You’ll need your strength tomorrow.”

But just before she reached the door, he spoke again.

“Where are you going?”

“To check the cattle.”

“Not in this weather.”

“They need water.”

“I’ll go.”

She turned and looked at his injured leg.

“You can barely sit upright.”

Jeb almost smiled.

“Then I suppose you’re right.”

That night, Maddie barely slept.

She checked the fire, prepared another batch of warm feed, and made certain the cattle had shelter.

By morning, the storm had weakened.

But something was terribly wrong.

The first thing Maddie noticed was the smell.

Smoke.

Not from the chimney.

From the barn.

She ran outside.

A thin column of smoke rose from the old wooden silo.

“Jeb!”

He struggled out of bed and reached the doorway.

“What happened?”

Maddie pointed.

The silo’s side panel had been broken open. Several sacks of grain lay scattered across the snow, and the feed troughs had been overturned.

Someone had entered the property during the night.

Someone had deliberately destroyed the feed they had spent three days preparing.

Jeb grabbed his coat.

“I’ll find them.”

“You’re not going anywhere with that leg.”

“They’re trying to kill my cattle!”

“And if you go out there, you’ll be the next thing they destroy.”

He looked at her angrily.

Then he stopped.

Maddie was kneeling beside something in the snow.

A boot print.

Beside it lay a small brᴀss ʙuттon.

She picked it up.

Jeb recognized the design immediately.

It belonged to the uniform worn by Rutherford’s ranch guards.

“He did this,” Jeb said.

Maddie looked toward the distant ridge.

“Then we need proof.”

Jeb shook his head.

“Rutherford owns half the town. Nobody will believe us.”

“Then we find someone who has no reason to lie for him.”

She returned to the house and opened the account ledger.

For several minutes, she studied the entries.

Then she noticed something strange.

Every time Rutherford’s men had visited Broken Spur, the amount of money Jeb supposedly owed had increased.

Not by a few dollars.

By hundreds.

Maddie checked the dates.

The figures had been altered.

“Jeb?”

He approached the table.

“What?”

“Have you ever borrowed money from Rutherford?”

“Three hundred dollars last spring.”

“How much have you repaid?”

“Nearly two hundred.”

Maddie pointed to the ledger.

“According to this, you owe him almost twelve hundred.”

Jeb stared.

“That’s impossible.”

“Look at the interest. It changes every month. And here…”

She turned another page.

“Someone has charged you for hay deliveries that never happened.”

Jeb slowly sat down.

“Rutherford.”

Maddie nodded.

“He isn’t trying to collect a debt. He’s inventing one.”

For the next two hours, she compared every receipt, every delivery record, and every payment.

By the time she finished, she had discovered something even more disturbing.

The original loan agreement was missing.

But one of the receipts contained a signature from a witness.

A name Jeb recognized.

“Caleb Turner.”

“Who is he?”

“The bookkeeper at Rutherford’s main ranch.”

“Would he tell the truth?”

Jeb gave a bitter laugh.

“Caleb has worked for Rutherford for fifteen years.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Jeb looked at her.

Maddie folded the receipt carefully.

“Then we’ll ask him.”

That afternoon, a rider approached Broken Spur.

It was Elias Rutherford himself.

He arrived wearing a fur-lined coat and carrying a leather document case.

His eyes immediately went to Jeb’s bandaged leg.

“Having trouble keeping up with your own property, Cole?”

Jeb stepped onto the porch.

“Get off my land.”

Rutherford laughed.

“Your land? Not for much longer.”

He opened his case and produced a document.

“Your payment is overdue. I have a legal claim against the ranch.”

Maddie stepped forward.

“Your figures are wrong.”

Rutherford looked at her as though he had only just noticed she existed.

“Excuse me?”

“Your interest calculations don’t match the original payments.”

His smile disappeared.

“Stay out of matters you don’t understand, woman.”

Maddie held up the ledger.

“I understand numbers perfectly well.”

Rutherford looked at Jeb.

“You’ve allowed your cook to interfere in business?”

Jeb moved beside Maddie.

“She’s not my cook.”

The words came out before he could stop them.

Rutherford raised an eyebrow.

“Then what is she?”

Jeb looked at Maddie.

For a moment, he seemed unable to find the answer.

Then he said firmly:

“She’s the woman who saved this ranch.”

Maddie’s heart skipped.

But Rutherford merely smiled.

“How touching.”

He placed the document on the porch railing.

“You have until Friday. After that, Broken Spur belongs to me.”

Then he leaned closer to Jeb.

“And if I were you, I’d worry less about your accounts and more about the woman you’ve brought into this house.”

He mounted his horse.

Before leaving, he turned toward Maddie.

“Some people never understand when they’ve been given an opportunity to disappear.”

Maddie watched him ride away.

Then she noticed something.

A second rider was waiting beyond the gate.

He wasn’t wearing Rutherford’s uniform.

He was carrying a sealed envelope.

And when Jeb saw the name written across it, all the color left his face.

It was addressed to:

Martha Higgins — Broken Spur Ranch.

Inside was a letter from the matchmaking agency.

The opening sentence made Maddie’s hands tremble.

Dear Miss Higgins,

We regret to inform you that the gentleman who originally requested your placement has contacted our office regarding a serious discrepancy in your application.

Jeb looked at her.

“What does that mean?”

Maddie couldn’t answer.

Because the letter continued:

According to the original correspondence, you were not the woman selected for Broken Spur Ranch.

And beneath the message was another name.

The woman Jeb Miller had originally requested was still alive.