Free California Romance by Colleen L. Reece

one not only for his good looks but because he owned the Diamond S and was considered a catch.
    Lydia led Matt on, driving him to distraction. He lost interest in the ranch, left its running in Brett Owens’s capable hands, and spent most of the season calling on Miss Lydia. He dreamed of making her queen of the Diamond S.
    Love’s young dream ended six months later when the surveying ended. Hensley and his daughter packed up to head back to civilization. Lydia’s parting with Matt was a disaster. He managed to extricate her from the young people who had gathered for a farewell party and led her to a secluded alcove.
    Heart beating double-time, Matt went straight to the point. “I can’t let you go, Lydia. Will you marry me?” He held out a diamond ring the size and brilliance of which was unknown in the valley.
    Lydia stared at the beautiful ring as if unwilling to let such a treasure slip through her white fingers. She stroked his lean face with a well-manicured hand and looked deep into his eyes, the sign of affection she often employed. An incredulous smile crossed her face. “Matthew Sterling, you don’t really expect me to stay out here? I belong in Chicago where it is civilized. I do appreciate your asking me though.” She glanced down then back up with the appealing look that brought suitors to their knees and subject to her will. “If you want me to take the ring to remember my Westerner, I’ll be happy to do so.”
    Disillusionment swept through Matt like the San Joaquin River in flood. “Your Westerner, Lydia? Have you only been amusing yourself to pass the time?”
    She had the grace to redden but tossed her head. “It was fun while it lasted. You’ll have to admit that.” She gave him the smile that had formerly bewitched him and now left him as cold and hard as the diamond in the ring he had so carefully selected. “About the ring—”
    Scales fell from Matt’s love-blinded eyes. He saw Lydia for what she was: a selfish, greedy girl out for all she could get. Brokenhearted he raised his head in a gesture that would have impressed anyone with the sensitivities of a turnip. Then he slipped the ring into his pocket and said, “You will have no keepsake to remember me by, Lydia.” He marched out, head still high, like a one-man army with flags waving. And he vowed the San Joaquin River would run dry before he ever again trusted any girl or woman except Solita.
    Matt had faithfully kept that vow until the wrinkled and much-handled picture of Sarah Anderson, taken just before her brother left home, kindled a spark of interest and admiration. Such an honest and steady gaze in the young girl’s face. The delicate way her hands were clasped. Her eyes radiating love for her Seth and her mother. And all that beautiful hair, long and rippling to her waist.
    The second picture threatened to undo the weeks, months, and years Matt had spent locking up his heart and throwing away the key. It didn’t help when Seth asked Matt to take the picture as a favor.
    “Maybe you could look at it occasionally and say a prayer for her and my mother. I worry about her constantly.”
    “I will, but I don’t need the picture,” Matt protested. Yet when Seth insisted, Matt’s hands turned sweaty, and his heart beat unnaturally fast. He slipped the picture into the pocket inside his vest “as a favor to Seth,” he reminded himself, and was never without it.
    The image of Sarah’s honest face rode sidesaddle with Matt across the California range even when he wasn’t looking at it. In spite of his unwillingness to admit the rusty hinges of his heart were creaking open, the image of Sarah’s sweet face was like oil to a long-unused lock. Over and over, Matt wondered how any man could treat an innocent girl the way Gus Stoddard treated Sarah. He found himself wishing he could intervene, “for Seth’s sake, of course,” he reminded himself.
    Just before spring roundup, the town of Madera planned a money-raising