Rebecca’s Surrender

The little sign outside the door of the general store in River’s Junction reads: “Rivers’ Mercantile—Rebecca Rivers Proprietor.” The Rivers were the first family to settle the small valley, and since her parent’s death, Rebecca Rivers considered it her duty to tend the only general store for miles around. Her position has made her proud and haughty for a woman so young. Although there were few people in the surrounding community that could say they liked Rebecca, she did have a respected place in the small town.

Rebecca grew up in a farmhouse near town. When her parents died she turned her house over to the bank to sell, and moved behind the mercantile where she could make her life as simple as possible. She liked her life in order, and there wasn’t anything in her life that wasn’t, as long as she controlled it. At twenty-five she considered herself a satisfied, if not somewhat lonely woman.

When Jake Elder came to town, Rivers’ Mercantile was the first place he stopped.

“I need some food, flour, sugar, yeast, beans...” his list went on and on. “Deliver it to the house on the Trail End road,” he ordered like some land baron, far above his station.

As Rebecca looked into his dark eyes, they seemed almost as black as his hair, as his boots, as the wide belt he wore about his waist.

“That’s my house.”

“Yours?”

“Well, it was mine,” she admitted.

“Well, it’s not yours anymore,” he smiled broadly for an instant, and walked out the door.

Rebecca wondered as she watched him leave, why her banker sold her house to this rough man. She didn’t like it at all. She should have managed the sale herself, she thought, found some nice stable family rather than this strange fellow from God knows where. She took an instantaneous dislike to him.

However, as time passed, the relationship between Jake and Rebecca warmed, as she became less wary of him. He was a curious breed of man in Rebecca’s eyes, not like most men she knew, startling in a dark, mysterious way, his hair to his shoulders, his mustache long, his mouth rarely smiling, except to tease her for reasons unbeknownst to her. She was curious about him, and attracted to him as well. And because of that, she kept their relationship cordial. She wasn’t altogether sure if she trusted him, or her attraction.

In Jake Elder’s eyes, Rebecca Rivers was the kind of woman he’d love to love: a challenge. She was strong willed, proud and gutsy; and that long brown hair falling down her shoulders… he would love to glide his hand on its silky surface.

Toward the end of spring Rebecca Rivers drove her buckboard to the Elder house.

“I want my trees,” she announced, as Jake walked from the barn, a blacksmith’s hammer in his hand. With his sleeves rolled up, she could see his strong, tanned, muscled arm.

“Your what?” he queried.

“My trees.”

“What trees are those, Miss Rivers?”

“The ones over there,” she said pointing to a space just outside the garden.

“I beg your pardon, Ma’am, those are mine.”

Rebecca was taken aback.

“Mr. Elder, I planted those trees three years ago before I decided to sell the house. I’ve always intended to come get them. They are a special fruit tree I ordered from the East Coast at considerable cost. My banker should have told you this.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Miss Rivers, no one told me about them. Since I like them, they’ll stay here.”

“But they are mine!” She didn’t like the way the man opposed her. In her mind the trees were hers, plain and simple. She didn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t understand that.

Rebecca looked at him, trying to decide what to do. She wasn’t used to people disputing her, and she had no intention of letting Jake Elder steal her trees. Ignoring him, she started toward the garden. Though much to her surprise, Jake grabbed the haughty Miss Rivers, “I said no!”

“How dare you,” she yelled, as she wrenched herself away.

He laughed. “You don’t come into my garden and take my trees.”

“I intend to have them,” she stomped her feet firmly.

“And I’ll take it out of your hide, if you so much as touch one.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“You want to try?”

She seethed at him.

He nodded to her wagon, it was time to go.

Rebecca mounted the buckboard again and turned back toward the road, as if she’d given up. But to