Matthew: The Circle Eight

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Authors: Emma Lang

BOOK: Matthew: The Circle Eight
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THE CIRCLE EIGHT
MATTHEW
 
EMMA LANG
 
 
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
 
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
P
ROLOGUE
 
March 1836
 
T
he back of Matthew Graham’s neck prickled, the little hairs standing up like tiny soldiers. He turned his head slowly to look around without appearing as though he was. His instincts told him something wasn’t right and he had learned to trust those instincts.
“Matt, what’s wrong?” His brother Caleb stepped up beside him on the wood-planked sidewalk. The gentle early spring breeze ruffled his chocolate brown hair under his battered hat.
“Dunno.” Matthew didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary in town. It looked as it always did—like a small town in eastern Texas. Nothing seemed out of place, yet he knew something was.
His other brothers and sisters were gathered around the front of the mercantile. Two of his sisters, Olivia and Elizabeth, played checkers while the youngest, Catherine, sat on Livy’s lap. Rebecca and Nicholas played marbles in the dirt.
Matthew had performed a supply trip every Saturday for the last four years, always bringing the brood with him to give his parents time alone. Today had been no different, until now.
“Go see what’s keeping Joseph with the nails. We need to get home.” Matthew didn’t wait to see if Caleb did as he was bade. The Graham children fought and competed daily, but when they needed to, they closed ranks and became a formidable force.
“Livy.” He caught his sister’s attention. She glanced up at him, her blue eyes alert. “Get ’em ready.”
Again, she didn’t question his order, she just acted. If only that could happen daily instead of once in a blue moon. They were all in the wagon within ten minutes, which at any other time would have been an incredible feat. Today it was nine minutes too long.
All of them seemed to sense Matthew’s urgency because their usual banter, bickering, and general noise were tucked away. The two-hour ride back to the ranch grew tenser with each passing minute.
His parents were home alone with five-year-old Benjamin, the youngest of the Grahams’ eight siblings. Even their cook Eva Vasquez, and her two sons, Javier and Lorenzo, were gone until tomorrow. Matthew could not have explained his urgency if anyone had asked him.
He just knew he had to get home.
The first sign something was wrong was the smoke. It curled into the bright blue sky like a black snake. Matthew’s heart ceased beating for a second, then it pounded harder than the horses’ hooves.
He snapped the reins, standing up in the wagon to shout at the team. “Hiya, boys, hiya!” Sweat ran into his eyes and his arm muscles ached as he controlled the two racing bays. Dirt and rocks kicked up by their hooves stung his skin, but he didn’t pay them any attention.
The younger children started crying and clung to Olivia. Caleb held on to the seat beside him with a tight jaw and panic in his gaze.
No one spoke even as Matthew drove the team at breakneck speed. The clouds of smoke billowed higher and his throat grew tighter. He could see the fire was near his mother’s garden.
Their ranch was only six hundred acres, enough to make a living raising cattle, but just barely. Any loss would be devastating, and a fire could be catastrophic. He prayed it was just a small fire.
But then he saw the front porch of the house.
And his mother’s body lying in the dirt beside it.
C
HAPTER
O
NE
 
May 1836
 
M
atthew rose before the sun, finding his way outside into the gray pre-dawn light. He walked as silently as the air around him, his early morning sojourn a habit born of necessity.
It was the only time of the day he could find quiet.
The noise of his brothers and sisters constantly rang in his ears. There was no way to escape all of them except when they were sleeping. Matt had taken to getting up at four-thirty each day to go for a ride. At first he was so sleepy he nearly fell out of the saddle, but now it had become a pleasure he never missed, even during bad weather.
As he entered the barn, he picked up a bridle from a nail on the wall. The tinkle of the metal was met with a soft whinny from the last stall. His gelding, Winston, was a quarter horse with a crooked blaze down his nose. His parents had given the animal to Matt for his twelfth birthday. Although Winston was at least fifteen years old, he was a good, solid ranch horse.
Matt stepped into Winston’s stall and the horse immediately pushed his head toward him, sniffing at his coat pockets.
“Easy, boy. I’ve got something for you, just don’t tell Olivia or she’ll have my hide.” He spoke low and soft, careful not to disturb any of the other horses or livestock. Matt pulled a cloth from his pocket and poured a half cup of sugar into his hand. Winston lapped at the sweet treat until every last morsel was gone. Matt had to push his mouth away. “That’s it, boy.”
The quarter horse seemed reluctant to stop, but smacked his lips as Matt saddled him quickly. Their routine was as familiar as breathing, and within ten minutes, Matt walked the gelding outside into the cool early morning air.
He took a deep breath and then another. They rode their standard route, stopping only for Winston to take a drink in a nearby creek. Matt found that he needed this time alone more and more. Each passing day reminded him of their difficult situation, how much responsibility he’d had to take on, and how heavily it weighed on his shoulders.
Their ranch wasn’t as big as others, but was large enough to get lost in for an hour each morning. The sun was turning the sky pink when he started back toward home.
When he returned, the lights in the house were on, and he knew the rest of the Grahams were stirring. Life on a ranch started early every day. Although their lives had taken a hard right turn two months ago, chores still needed to be done. After he took care of Winston, he walked toward the house with slower steps than when he’d left. As he reached the door, Matt took a deep breath and stepped in.
 
“You have to go claim it.” Olivia crossed her arms and glared at Matt, her blue gaze cold as an icicle. “Pa would have wanted us to get those acres. He wanted this ranch to be something.”
Sometimes Matt wished he didn’t have siblings. Like today. The seven of them were in the kitchen sitting at the enormous table their father had built after Matthew was born. It was their standard meeting place when they discussed family business. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a discussion. It was a flat out argument.
Lately all they seemed to do was bicker, fight, and argue everything to death. Matthew wanted to
do
something, not just talk about it until his ears bled.
Pa had intended to claim four thousand acres offered by the Republic of Texas to residents. It was going to make their little six hundred acre ranch six times bigger. He knew it had been Pa’s dream to create a legacy for his children, but his murder had turned that dream to ashes.
Now the burden fell on Matt to decide what to do. Of course, the rest of the Graham children thought they had to tell him exactly how they felt about the decision. For days, even weeks on end. As much as he loved them, his siblings were driving him loco. His father had usually taken his side, but circumstances had taken his father instead.
“Elizabeth, take Catherine and Rebecca outside to play.” Matthew didn’t need the younger girls clouding the issue. They didn’t understand and were still recovering from the loss of their parents.
“I don’t want to go outside.” At nine Rebecca could be incredibly stubborn. She pouted her lip and flung her caramel colored braids back over her shoulders.
“That’s too bad because you’re going anyway.” He gave them his best big brother glare and Rebecca sniffled dramatically.
Little Catherine rose and took her sister’s hands. She was a peacemaker like Mama had been, although Benjamin’s disappearance had affected her deeply. Sometimes he heard her at night talking to Benjamin although their five-year-old brother had not been found in the two months since their parents’ deaths.
“Let’s go play.” She was the only blonde girl in the family, the others having varying shades of brown hair. Rebecca and Elizabeth both walked out haughtily, but they went outside as he ordered.
“You know, they have every right to be here.” Nicholas was fifteen and had an opinion about everything. He and Olivia were his biggest problems in that regard.
“Right now I don’t need the little ones here. They’re not going to help.” Matthew sipped at his coffee which was now cold.
“They’re Grahams, too.” Olivia sat beside her brother, staring him down.
“Right now we don’t need to fight. We need to agree on something.” Matthew’s heart still ached at the way he’d been thrust into the role of parent. At twenty-five, he was too young to be responsible for his entire family and their ranch, but he accepted the role. He loved his family and the Circle Eight.
“Matt’s right.” Caleb was seventeen, the third oldest in the family. He had wavy dark brown hair and his father’s brown eyes. “Let’s stop fighting and start talking.”
“I’ve been trying to do that all morning,” Olivia said harshly. She had been bitter ever since she’d spurned her young man. Just when she needed his understanding most, the fool had tried to make her leave the ranch and forget about the unsolved murders of her parents.
Matthew was secretly glad the man had been tossed out on his ass, literally, by him and his brothers. He thought perhaps her bruised heart had closed in on itself after that. She was harder than she’d ever been, rarely giving an inch, and her smile had become a rarity.
“We have the papers Pa had ready to claim the acres. Now you just need to go to Houston and file them. You’re the oldest Graham now and you’re an adult.” She pointed at him. “I don’t see what there is to argue about.”
“Four thousand acres is six times the size of what we have now. Lorenzo and Javier are crack hands, but even so we don’t have enough men to handle that much land.” Matthew’s fingers tightened on his cup. He wanted to roar at the unfairness of their situation, to run screaming into the field and let loose the grief he had locked away inside.
“Then we claim it and add cattle as we can. If we ride the line to check on the land every week, we can do it.” Caleb shrugged. “I think Pa wouldn’t want us to miss our chance to take it because we were scared.”
“I’m not scared. I’m practical.” Matthew felt stung by his brother’s reversal.
“Practical is okay, but we need to do what’s right.” Nicholas fiddled with the rest of his biscuit, the crumbs littering his plate.
This decision would affect all the siblings and their families for generations. It wasn’t to be made lightly and the weight of it forced almost all the air out of Matthew. He considered everything his brothers and sister had said, and realized they were right. He was scared. But he had to get past that. This family was everything to him, and if he made the wrong decision, they’d all suffer. He was practical enough to know that he, his brothers and their two ranch hands could take care of four thousand acres. Caleb’s idea to build slowly was a good one.
Thoughts whirled around in Matthew’s head until he slammed his fist on the table, startling everyone. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The only thought left in his head was,
what would Pa do
?
“I’m going to Houston.”
Caleb and Nicholas smiled while Olivia nodded at him. The Grahams were going to take a chance.
Houston was so much larger than he had expected. Matthew felt like an ant on a hill. There were so many people he could hardly walk down the street without bumping into someone. Olivia had stayed behind to take care of the ranch, but Nicholas accompanied Matthew. They were both goggle-eyed at the big city.
They had found the land grant office after a few wrong turns, then waited for nearly two hours before the name “Graham” was called. Matthew wouldn’t admit it to Nicholas, but a passel of frogs were currently jumping in his stomach.
The man behind the desk was bald with round spectacles. He was also plump, and if Matthew had to venture a guess, the fellow hadn’t done a lick of hard labor in his life. His pasty white hands thumbed through their papers. With each passing moment, Matthew thought he might lose his breakfast. To his surprise, Nicholas appeared calm, even studying the stranger with curiosity.
“Your father died then, did he?” The man peered at them through his thick spectacles.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Prentiss. He died in March. I’m twenty-five and control the ranch and property now.” Matthew managed to swallow the lump in his throat. He was not comfortable in a place like this, in a situation like this. Put him on a horse and he was unstoppable, but here he felt useless.
“Of course you do. I’m sure you’re doing a fine job, too.” He picked up his pen and dipped it in the inkwell. “Just tell me the name of your wife and we can finalize the land claim.”
Time seemed to stand still as the dust particles floated in midair in the small office. Matthew managed not to sound like a complete idiot although he had to choke back the word that immediately danced on his tongue.
Wife?
“You need my wife’s name?” His voice sounded far away to his ears.
“Yes, we do, Mr. Graham. This land grant is for a family. That includes a husband and wife, current and future children. Now I realize the children are your brothers and sisters, so we’ll overlook that particular. All we need is your wife’s name for the deed.” His pen was poised atop the paper.
Matthew knew if he lied, he would be putting his family and the ranch in jeopardy. If he didn’t lie, they would lose the land grant they were entitled to. It was an untenable position, and he only had seconds to decide what to do.
“Hannah. Her name is Hannah.” He managed a weak smile.
Nicholas started in the chair next to him, but blessedly kept his mouth quiet. Thank God Matt hadn’t brought Livy or Caleb. They’d likely have called him on the lie—he couldn’t lie worth a damn.
“Fine then. I’ll just write her name down here.” Mr. Prentiss fussed a bit more with the papers, then looked up at Matt again. “Is your wife here in Houston with you?”
“Uh, no, she stayed home to help take care of the children.” The lies were just rolling off his tongue now. His mother would have taken a switch to him.
“I see. Well, because you seem like honest boys and have had such a tragedy in your lives, I will grant you a thirty-day extension.” He stacked the papers neatly. “Until then I will hold your land for you.”
Matt had no idea what the man was talking about. “What is an extension?”
“It means that within the next thirty days, you must bring your wife with you to Houston to sign the papers. It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t know how to write; an
X
will do just fine. I can’t turn over the grant until then.” Mr. Prentiss pushed up his glasses with one pudgy finger. “I hope you understand, Mr. Graham.”
Oh, he understood all right. He had just lied to a Texas official, to the
law,
and now he had thirty days to find a wife named Hannah or they would lose their land grant.
His family would tan his hide.
“What do you mean, you lied?” Caleb looked more shocked than anyone. “You never lie.”
Matthew continued taking the saddle off his horse as his brother hopped around like grease on a hot griddle. It was time to be calm because if anyone knew how many knots his stomach was in, there’d be no end to the dramatics.
“I had to.” Matthew stopped and stared at the three of them, Olivia, Caleb, and Nicholas. “Nick was there. He’ll tell you I’m right. If I wasn’t married, then we wouldn’t get the land.”
“All right, you lied to them. What happens now?” Olivia got the words out through gritted teeth. Matthew noted she had started to put her hair in a bun like Mama used to, making her look forty instead of nineteen.
“He has to find a wife in thirty days and her name has to be Hannah.” The words jumped out of Nicholas’s mouth so fast and loud, Matt actually winced.
“What?” Olivia’s hands clenched into fists. “Are you plumb loco, Matt? How are you going to find a wife in thirty days and one named Hannah to boot? There is no one in this county who would marry you. You’re ornery, a liar, and bad company.” Her cheeks flushed as red as the sunset behind her. “You’ve just cost us that land.”

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