CASSANDRA AND THE COWBOY

by Janine Mick Wills

CHAPTER ONE

Goose Neck Ridge, Texas
August 1887

Cassandra Pickett had begun pacing her bedroom floor when the morning sun first marked the horizon. The sun now topped the roof of the barn and still she paced, counting the reasons she did not want to marry Phillip Brigham. But with each pass of the room and each swish of her emerald gown, her resolve weakened. She had to marry her neighbor or risk losing the Triple P.

She dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands, but the pain inflicted was easier to bear than the confusion in her heart. She bowed her head in prayer.

“Lord, Mama and I have been praying the same thing for weeks now. Since it seems you only hear the prayers of preachers and righteous people, I can understand why you don’t answer my prayers, but why won’t you answer Mama’s? She’s more righteous than any ten people I know.”

Cassandra cast her gaze upward to the peaked ceiling of her bedroom. Did her prayers even make it that far? Or did they fly out the window and disappear into the clear Texas sky? She wasn’t sure, but she continued praying just in case God was listening.

“Phillip will be here soon, Lord, and he’ll want my answer. Should I marry him or not? If you’d give me a sign, I sure would appreciate it. Oh… and if you’re not too busy, please send some rain.”

She cocked her head and waited for God’s reply. The clock’s pendulum not only marked the futility of waiting for her heavenly father to answer her prayer, but it also bore witness to Phillip’s arrival in half an hour. The thought twisted Cassandra’s stomach into a knot.

She breathed in the calming scent of her mother’s roses wafting through the bedroom window. Breathe in 1, 2, 3, 4. Breathe out 1, 2, 3—

“God doesn’t care. God doesn’t care,” two blackbirds seemed to taunt from outside the window.

The pair perched in the oak tree Cassandra’s father had planted twenty years ago when he carved the Triple P Ranch from the dry Texas soil. Lightning had struck the tree and left a jagged rift in its bark. But the great oak bore the scar, refusing to succumb to outside forces that might attack its weakened state.

“If that’s true, Lord, you’ve left me no other choice.” Cassandra crossed the room and shut the window with a bang. The glass panes rattled, scattering the ebony doomsayers into a cloudless sky, which hadn’t seen rain in two weeks.

“I’ll marry Phillip, but I won’t be a trophy upon his arm.” She yanked the comb from her chignon, releasing auburn waves that fell in riotous confusion to her waist. Deeming her appearance still too fitting, she crumpled and tugged her gown until it, like her disheveled hair, mocked its former beauty.

“Cassandra Jane. Whatever are you doing?”

Cassandra cringed at her mother’s voice. Helen Pickett had crossed the pinewood floor with only a whisper of sound, but the dismay in her dove-gray eyes spoke volumes. “Phillip will be arriving soon. What will he think when he sees you in such disarray?”

Cassandra’s words tumbled out like Goose Neck Creek after a good, hard rain. “I don’t give a fig what Phillip thinks about me. In fact, the less he thinks about me, the better.”

“The two of you were once good friends. Will you ever tell me what happened?”

Cassandra reined in a sigh. Only her father had known of Phillip’s betrayal three years ago. She would not ask her mother to bear that burden as well. “I don’t love him. That’s all.”

“If it is providence for you to marry Phillip, you will learn to love him. God helped me love your father when he—”

“Of course, you loved Papa. He was kind as well as handsome, and he fell in love with you the moment you met. Phillip doesn’t appeal to me like that at all. Well, I suppose he is handsome.” Cassandra lifted her chin. “As for God, if he hadn’t allowed Papa to die in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

“How many times must I tell you? God is not to blame for your father’s death nor our financial dilemma. Your father was the one who…”

Helen patted the gaily-colored quilted bedspread. “Please, darling, sit down. I have something long overdue to tell you.”

Cassandra rejected the invitation. “You’ve told me time-and-time again God answers prayers, but right now he and I are on different sides of the same fence. When I get to heaven, I’m gonna march right up and ask him why he allowed all this to happen.”

Helen raised a pale hand to her throat. “Cassandra, how can you talk in such a manner?” She smoothed a wrinkle from her black dress of mourning as if the gesture would help maintain her calm demeanor.

Cassandra bit her knuckle. Lord, I’ve done it again. I’ve upset Mama. Why can’t I be like her and trust you in the midst of turmoil? She silently quoted a Bible verse about bridling the tongue. Her mother insisted she memorize Scripture to aid in times of need, but Cassandra found she remembered the verses after she needed them, not beforehand.

“Mama, you can stop worrying about the Triple P. I’ve decided to marry Phillip. He has more than enough money to repay our loan.”

“Are you sure? I do not want you to marry him because of the ranch. Ever since we spoke with Mr. Higgins, I have prayed for another way. But it appears for the first time, God has not answered my prayers.” Her gaze left Cassandra to stare out the window.

“I’m afraid he has answered them. Our salvation is in the form of Phillip Brigham.” Cassandra trudged to the armoire to pick out a new gown. “Don’t worry. I’ll do as you say and learn to–to care for him.”

Even for her mother’s sake, Cassandra could not say the word “love.” Though one day her heart might forgive Phillip, the two of them would never share the same kind of love as her parents had.

Without waiting for a reply, she opened the armoire door and slid her navy gown off its hanger. The subtle folds of material gathered in the back and trickled to the floor, but the gown weighed heavy in Cassandra’s hands. As heavy as the lie she’d just told her mother.

* * *

Helen descended the staircase with a heavy heart. Halfway down the stairs, she stopped and caressed a framed picture hanging on the wall. If she had known the photograph was to be the last one taken of her husband, she would have insisted she and Cassandra join him in another.

“Why did you do it, Samuel?” she asked his smiling face, knowing full well the reason. She gripped the banister and prayed. “Oh, Lord, I should have told Cassandra the truth, but you know how much she loved her father. The knowledge of what he did would only bring her more grief.”

At the foot of the stairs, she called for the housekeeper. “Maria, ¿Dónde está? I need you, please.”

A Mexican woman, wearing a black dress smudged with flour, waddled through the dining room doors. The aroma of a freshly-baked apple pie trailed after her. The heat from the kitchen had caused wisps of coal-black hair to escape the bun on the back of her head.

“Did you call, señora Pickett?” Maria Martinez wiped her hands on an apron circling a rounded waist that could no longer hide the baby growing within.

“Would you please help Cassandra change into another gown?”

Maria’s dark-chocolate eyes widened. “What is wrong with the one she had on? It was beautiful and matched her eyes muy perfecto.”

Helen was about to agree when the sound of knocking peppered the hallway. Maria aimed for the front door.

“Señor Brigham has arrived.” Maria’s announcement did little to hide her displeasure. “I saw him ride up on his big yellow horse. Do you want me to run him off?”

“Certainly not,” Helen scolded. “I will let him in. Quickly. Go help Cassandra.”

Maria clambered up the stairs, muttering all the way in Spanish. When her footsteps had receded, Helen assumed a pleasant face and opened the door. She craned her neck to look up at Phillip. His charcoal-gray suit and brocade waistcoat were more fitting for an eastern gentleman than a Texas rancher.

“Good morning, Mrs. Pickett.” Phillip’s voice held the promise of an accomplished baritone. 

Good manners kept Helen from saying that the black top hat he tucked under his arm was a bit pretentious for a mid-morning call. “Hello, Phillip. Will you please come in?”

Phillip’s smile almost reached eyes a shade lighter than his suit. “I would be delighted. And how are you this fine morning?” He ran a hand through hair the same color as his hat.

“I am well, thank you. We were not expecting you for another half-hour. Cassandra is not quite ready. If you would be so kind as to wait in the study, I will tell her you have arrived.”

* * *

Cassandra fiddled with the lace neckline of her chemise and toyed with the idea of feigning a headache. She could crawl back into bed, throw the quilt over her head, and—

Maria bustled into the bedroom and scowled at the crumpled emerald gown laying on the floor. Cassandra braced against the forthcoming reprimand. Maria did not disappoint.

“I see why your mamá asked me to help you. Just look at your beautiful dress. And after I spent all that time ironing it.” She picked up the garment and laid it over the footboard of the bed. “Sometimes I do not understand what goes on inside that head of yours, young lady.”

Maria helped Cassandra slip back into her petticoat. “It is good your figure does not need a corset. There is no time to lace it up now. Señor Brigham has arrived early.” She smacked her lips as though the mere mention of Phillip’s name had put a bad taste in her mouth. She snatched the navy gown off the bed, gave it a shake, and raised her chin. Cassandra meekly stretched up her arms for Maria to slide the garment over her head.

Maria deftly fastened the cloth-covered buttons on the back of the gown. “Does your behavior have anything to do with señor Brigham’s visit?”

“Oh, Maria, I’ve got to marry him.”

“And this is what you want?”

“What else can I do? We don’t have the money to repay Papa’s loan.” Cassandra frowned as she skimmed her hair with a silver-plated brush. “Mama thinks I can learn to love him after we’re married.”

“That is because your dear mamá chooses to think the best of everything.”

Though Maria’s tone of her voice had lightened, Cassandra knew she had struggled to do it. Her opinion of Phillip was less than stellar, probably based on the gossip she shared with Bella, the Lazy Acres cook. Bella had been in the Brigham employ since before Phillip’s birth and took great pride in knowing everything that happened around Goose Neck Ridge.

Helen hurried into the room. “Cassandra, you must finish getting ready. Phillip is waiting.”

Maria rummaged through the vanity drawer and pulled out a navy ribbon. She gathered Cassandra’s hair at the base of her neck and tied the ribbon into a bow. “That will do. Now scoot. Your mamá and I will stay here and pray while you talk to señor Brigham.”

Cassandra complied, knowing life proceeded more smoothly when she followed Maria’s orders. But as she trudged downstairs, she dreaded her forthcoming answer to the man whose purse strings held the fate of the Triple P Ranch.

***

 

I hope you enjoyed reading the first chapter of Cassandra and the Cowboy, the first novel in the Texas Treasures series (Released Spring 2019 by Journey Fiction).

Read the first chapter of Juanita and the Outlaw, the second novel in the Texas Treasures series (Released December 2019).

Read the first chapter of Maddie and the Ranger, the third novel in the Texas Treasures series (Released spring 2021)