Honor my Word: Rancher's Word, #5

By Linda K. Hubalek

An American historical romance about facing truth and hardship to find love.
Rancher Luther Tucker would prefer to never to set foot off the Cross C Ranch in Kansas, but his grandfather insists he takes a trip to Yellowstone National Park. The only part of the trip that excites Luther is that he can sketch and paint the natural wonders he'll view.
Myreta Hamman takes her deceased husband's place as a guide for Luther through Yellowstone because it's a way for her to find the money her husband hid in the park. But she and Luther need to hurry though, because even as she tries to hide her pregnancy with her husband's old clothes, her baby is due soon.
Stuck with honoring their word to others, Luther and Myreta find hard truths about themselves and each other as they face challenges in the wilderness while falling in love with each other.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Butterfield Books Inc.
• Release date: May 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201087623

Linda K. Hubalek

Linda Hubalek has written over fifty books about strong women and honorable men, with a touch of humor, despair, and drama woven into the stories. The setting for all the series is the Kansas prairie which Linda enjoys daily, be it being outside or looking at it through her office window. Her historical romance series include Brides with Grit, Grooms with Honor, Mismatched Mail-order Brides, and the Rancher's Word. Linda's historical fiction series, based on her ancestors' pioneer lives include, Butter in the Well, Trail of Thread, and Planting Dreams. When not writing, Linda is reading (usually with dark chocolate within reach), gardening (channeling her degree in Horticulture), or traveling with her husband to explore the world. Linda loves to hear from her readers, so visit her website to contact her, or browse the site to read about her books. www.LindaHubalek.com www.Facebook.com/lindahubalekbooks

Book preview

Chapter 1

Tucker! The driver yelled out his name and pounded on the top of the stagecoach after he’d stopped the vehicle for some reason. The stagecoach, full of tourists like himself, left Cinnabar, Montana a while back and was traveling along a winding dirt road leading into Yellowstone National Park. So far, it was a combination of grassland and small boulders, but there were sheer cliffs and bands of forested areas in the distance. Luther couldn’t wait to explore the area. He itched to start sketching the unusual landscape around him.

Luther Tucker stuck his head out of the stagecoach window when the driver yelled down at him.

Yes, sir? Luther asked as he watched his carpetbag drop from the coach's top into a puff of dirt on the ground. Why was it tossed off?

This is where you get off, Tucker, the man called from above.

Tucker opened the door, carefully crawled out of the coach while holding on to his wooden case protecting his art supplies and box camera. It would be easier to talk to the man while seeing him. Aren’t you Jeremiah Hamman, the guide for this trip?

No, I’m not, and you aren’t booked on the stagecoach tour of the park either. Your ride ticket was just to get to this meeting point. Your guide’s widow is right over there waiting for you, the driver pointed to someone behind Tucker.

Mrs. Hamman! the drive shouted at the woman. Where’s your help? You shouldn’t be meeting a tourist by yourself.

He’s, uh... my helper went to set up camp while I waited for the guest, a female voice sounded behind Luther.

You be okay then?

Yes, Mr. Miller. Go on. I’m all right, the woman answered.

The driver touched his hat brim and then slapped the reins to get the four-horse team to move down the road again.

After watching the stagecoach leave, Tucker picked up his carpetbag with his free hand and turned around.

Twenty feet away stood a young woman beside two saddled horses and two pack mules. Did the driver say she was his guide’s widow? Luther guessed she was only in her early twenties.

The woman surveyed him, nervously shifting her eyes from Luther to the departing stagecoach.

Luther decided to break the standoff. I’m Luther Tucker. I was supposed to meet Jeremiah Hamman, but did I understand right that he died?

The nervous woman bit her lip and then lifted her chin before replying. Yes, he’s dead.

I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs.—

"Please don’t call me Mrs. Hamman or offer your condolences, the woman implored Luther. My late husband, Jeremiah, was a lying, conniving, bast...bad man."

Luther was taken aback by her statement and at a loss of words. All he could do was stare at the plump, short woman.

She wore a broad-brimmed wool hat and men’s clothing. The handmade soft tan leather jacket and beige cotton shirt reached her knees, and the trousers had been hemmed up for her height. He could see her belt held a tucked-in revolver, a sheathed eight-inch knife, and a leather pouch to store odds and ends when the woman moved.

The tip of her black hair braid over her left shoulder could touch her waist. Her puffy face featured high cheekbones and bronze skin, but she had eyes that reminded Luther of a person of Chinese descent. And she watched him with the dark, sharp eyes of a hawk zoning in on a rabbit while in mid-flight.

She was also biting her lip, worrying he’d change his mind to travel with her? That was definitely on Luther’s mind, but she’d mentioned there was help setting up the campsite, so there was no reason to cancel the trip.

What do you want to be addressed as, ma’am? Luther asked politely. He had a feeling the woman wasn’t used to being treated decently.

Just address me as Myreta, the woman said as she lifted her chin again.

Myreta. That’s a nice name. Please call me Luther then, instead of Mr. Tucker, Luther told the woman.

You told the driver we’re meeting a man at a camping site? He’ll be my guide instead?

No, I’ll be your guide instead of my late husband.

Look, Myreta, about this camping trip—

I'm sorry, but I can't refund the money your grandfather sent for your trip. And I know my way around the park as well as any guide you could book.

Isaac Connely, the Cross C Ranch owner where Luther’s father, Rusty Tucker, was the foreman, suggested Luther go on a trip, and Luther knew he had no choice. Isaac had sent the Brenner brothers, the heirs to the ranch, on trips to see if they wanted to commit to the ranch or choose another career.

Isaac considered himself the Brenner and Tucker children’s adoptive grandfather because the Brenner brothers’ father, Marcus, was Isaac’s nephew, and Faye Tucker, Luther’s mother, was Isaac’s step-niece. Luther, his sister, Violet, and brother, Anton, had always called Isaac and his wife, Cate, Grandpa and Grandma, at the elder’s insistence.

Luther didn’t want to leave the ranch, even for a trip to see something past the Kansas border, but Isaac insisted Luther go on one of Tully and Violet’s trips.

Tully Reagan, Luther’s brother-in-law, wrote travel articles for a Chicago newspaper, and Tully and Luther’s sister, Violet, toured the United States to experience national parks firsthand. They’d been to Yellowstone more than once. They suggested to their grandpa Isaac that Luther could travel with them as far as Yellowstone to see the national park while they traveled further north to explore another area.

Violet and Tully had used Mr. Hamman’s guide service before and were satisfied with what the man had shown them. They mentioned his Shoshone wife was along to do the cooking for the trip but noted she rarely said a word on either trip. They assumed she only spoke her native language. Luther was afraid there was more to Hamman’s story than his sister knew about after meeting Myreta.

It’s all right with me if your help guides my trip if you want to stay home, Luther tried to persuade Myreta she didn’t have to spend the next two weeks camping through the wilderness.

Luther watched as she looked away and chewed on her lower lip. Myreta was trying to hide her emotions, but Luther could see she was upset.

We had a log cabin a few miles north of the Yellowstone entrance, but in a month, it's no longer my home. My husband gambled off the deed in a poker game last week.

"Oh, I’m sorry—"

"And then, since Jeremiah was caught cheating in the next game and pulled out his revolver to grab the stash of money on the table and run, he was shot dead," the woman deadpanned, apparently still mad at her husband instead of grieving her loss.

Is his killer in jail? Luther blundered his question because he didn’t know what else to say.

Nope. The sheriff, who was also playing at the game, pulled his gun on Jeremiah to stop him. The sheriff said he was aiming at Jeremiah’s hand to stop him, but Jeremiah lunged for another fistful of cash and caught the bullet in his head.

Good gracious! What should Luther say now? He’d never heard of a situation like that in their simple town of Clear Creek, Kansas.

Do you have any relatives you could go to for help? Luther asked, worried about this woman’s plight.

No. My family was a mixture of Shoshone, French fur trappers, and Chinese miners, and I’m on my own now.

Luther was dumbstruck. What was he supposed to do? He’d been dropped at the entrance of a national park, and this little woman said she’s going to guide him through the park. For the next two weeks?

Luther, I listened to Violet and Tully talk on their tours with us and know they were good people. They talked about you, and I’d trust you for that reason to help me find something in the park. That’s my sole reason for sticking with this trip.

What are you looking for? Luther asked, not sure yet if he could trust this woman.

I’m looking for the money from past tours, Myreta explained. After we’d guide two or three groups of tourists, Jeremiah would pack the money we’d made into a tobacco tin and bury it the next time we went into the park. He never let me see where he hid it, but he marked it on a map I found in our cabin. I need money to start over.

Couldn’t your hired man help you look?

"I must confess I have no hired man. I made that up to send Mr. Miller on his way. I don’t have anyone I could trust to help me look.

Then I thought of this tour Jeremiah had booked for you with your grandfather. I’d met your sister and thought maybe you’d help me.

Luther’s first thought was to loan her money to leave the area. I can buy you a train ticket to travel to another state. Selling your mules and horse would give you money to start over, Luther offered.

Myreta was silent a moment as she looked at her animals.

"At the funeral, I found out Jeremiah owed money to almost every merchant in town. They told me, with condolences, as they shook my hand. I’ve already sold the livestock I had, except for these four animals, to pay most of Jeremiah’s bills. There are still a few bills outstanding yet.

"Thank you for proposing a solution to start fresh, but I need to find as many of those cans as possible. Besides guiding a group, I