Rosalind: A Thanksgiving Day Bride
Brides of Noelle, Book 8
Danica Favorite
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
More in the series
Reader Letter
Dedication and Thank You
About the Author
Copyright © 2018 by Danica Favorite
All rights reserved.
To sign up for Danica’s newsletter to get sneak peeks and other goodies, click here.
Cover design by EDHGraphics
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Visit my website at www.danicafavorite.com
Printed in the United States of America
Created with Vellum
1
By dawn tomorrow, redemption would finally come to Wyatt “The Hawk” Hawkinson. He stretched at his desk chair, having made sure every last piece of paperwork was filled out and signed off on. The railroad had promised bonuses to every man on the crew if they got the railroad line to Noelle by the Fourth of July. And here it was, July third, and the track had been completed the day before. All except for that final stake, which he would proudly present to Richard Stiles, the railroad board member who’d been dogging his steps the entire time, telling Hawk he didn’t think it could be done, complaining about Hawk’s men, and otherwise being a royal pain in the behind.
Hawk set his pen down and looked out his window at the railroad camp that was already starting to pack up, either to find new jobs at new railroad lines or to start new lives. People like Stiles might not think much of this crew, considering the project seemed to attract the lowest of the low and the worst sort of people. But that was just it. Most of these men weren’t so low as one would think, but people who’d been dealt a bad hand in life, and were looking for ways to do better. It was men like Stiles, and that lowlife, Solomon Sharp, the land agent Hawk often had to dicker with about where he could and couldn’t lay track, that Hawk didn’t trust. Sharp was always about keeping the most valuable land for the railroad, and himself, and it hadn’t made Hawk’s job easy in getting the railroad to Noelle in time.
But that was all past him now. He could look at those smug sons of… He shook his head. He wasn’t the kind of man anymore who used that kind of language. Even if the men in question deserved it. They’d given him a chance, by hiring him as the foreman for this job, when no one else would. His previous reputation as a drunk and a bully had been well deserved, and were it not for his friend Moses; Hawk might still be the angry, vengeful man whose only solace for the demons that chased him came from a bottle or putting his fist through some loudmouth’s jaw. Hawk was different now. Focused. And though the lust for vengeance didn’t pound so loud through his veins that he couldn’t think anymore, he still had his mission.
With the respectability gained by this job well done, along with that fat bonus, he’d have the money to resume searching for justice for his late wife.
Though Moses still told Hawk that vengeance was the Lord’s alone, he couldn’t shake the feeling that justice still had to be served. Hawk’s wife, Beth, had been murdered to keep Hawk from chasing down the Elliott gang, a notorious group of outlaws known for their bold train and bank robberies. But it hadn’t stopped him. And he would have thought his job over when he’d put a bullet in the center of James Elliott’s forehead, except that one of the gang members had gotten away, and no matter how hard Hawk searched, he couldn’t find the man. Of course, his efforts had been hampered by his drinking and resulting troubles, but that was behind him. Hawk no longer drank, and he’d finally have the resources to finish what he’d started.
Which had led Hawk here to this camp outside of Noelle, Colorado. He pulled out the folder he kept in the secret desk drawer and thumbed through the pages. The answer had to be staring at him in the face. And maybe, when he had that bonus money in his pocket, he’d finally have the resources to find that missing piece.
And then, Hawk would hang.
He’d been on the right side of the law long enough to know that spending five years planning a murder was the very definition of premeditation. The thought had consumed him for so long that he had no idea what else he would do with his life. As everyone else outside the office made plans for their futures, Hawk was setting in motion the activities that would lead to his death.
But if it meant ridding the world of the scumbag who’d orchestrated the death of his beloved wife, along with that of countless other innocent people, then Hawk didn’t care so much about where he ended up, because he’d left the world a better place.
As he closed the folder, a loud boom and a flash of light lit up the sky.
What the?
Hawk shoved the folder back into its hiding spot and exited the tent that had been serving as his office to be greeted by a group of men running his way as another series of booms and flashing lights came from the direction of the bridge.
No. No. No. There weren’t supposed to be fireworks until tomorrow, at the big celebration in town for the railroad’s arrival.
Which one of his guys had jumped the gun with the premature celebration?
“Sir,” Moses came toward him. “There’s trouble at the bridge.”
Bringing Moses aboard had been one of Hawk’s conditions of accepting the job. Not everyone was willing to hire a former slave, but if it weren’t for Moses, Hawk would probably be dead by now, his mission unfulfilled. Moses was one of the best men Hawk knew, and it was a shame others didn’t recognize the other man’s value. That was one of the other things Hawk would rectify once the railroad came. Hopefully, someone would have a connection to a good lawyer, who could make sure that all of Hawk’s money, whatever was left over after completing his mission, would go to Moses when Hawk died, and no one could take it from the other man. All Moses wanted in life was a nice piece of property, a place where he could have a ranch of his own, and a good woman to share it all with. Hawk couldn’t help him with a good woman, but the money Hawk was due at the end of this project would be enough to set any man up for life.
Hawk started toward the bridge. “What’s going on?” he asked Moses.
“Some of the men were celebrating meeting the railroad deadline. Things got out of hand and they were kicked out of the saloon.”
The saloon, as it were, was nothing more than a tent in the city of tents making up the railroad camp. While the town of Noelle was around the bend and across the bridge, the railroad bosses had told Hawk his men were too rough to be spending time in the town. The railroad company might have said the spur to Noelle was important, but you couldn’t tell by the men they’d given Haw
k to build it.
Another boom filled the sky.
Hawk picked up his pace as he ran toward the bridge. A mile away from the camp, he almost should have gone for his horse. But Big Mac was clear in the other direction, and by the time he got there and got the horse saddled, he’d be at the bridge already.
“Get Big Mac,” he told Moses. “Meet me at the bridge.”
Moses' eyes widened. “But sir, folks won’t like me on your horse.”
Hawk tried not to groan. Moses wasn’t wrong, but the dark-skinned man was one of the best horsemen Hawk knew, and that was saying a lot since Hawk knew so many. One more reason that he knew giving everything he had to Moses once this mission was over was the right thing to do. On his own ranch, people wouldn’t try stopping the other man from pursuing his passion for horses.
“Fine,” Hawk said, knowing this wasn’t the time for that particular fight. “Get Joe to do it.”
Moses shook his head. “I can’t. No one’s seen him.”
Frustration mounted as Hawk picked up his pace. Besides Moses, Joe was one of the men Hawk trusted the most. Of all the men on the crew, Joe had the most stability. Traveling with him were his wife, son, and three daughters. They were planning on settling in Noelle and opening a boarding house. Working the railroad on the way was their way of earning some extra money as well as giving Joe’s wife the opportunity to practice her cooking as she did all the cooking for the crew. Noelle would be blessed indeed having such a fine cook in their midst.
“Did you ask Ida? She might know where Joe is.”
Another set of footsteps joined them.
“She hasn’t seen him all day. He was going to the saloon to try to keep things from getting out of hand.”
Rosalind, Joe’s eldest daughter, spoke and Hawk tried not to groan. He’d been doing his best to avoid Rosalind, a pretty young woman with shining blue eyes and blond hair that glistened in the sun. Yes, he’d noticed, and frankly, it was a bit too much if you asked him, which was why he’d done his best to avoid her.
“What are you doing here?” Hawk asked. “You know it’s not safe for a young lady like yourself to be wandering the camp alone.”
“I’m not wandering,” she said. “I’m doing the same as you. Trying to figure out what’s going on and trying to find my father.”
And that was the trouble with Rosalind. She was entirely too bold and independent for his liking. Fine. That was exactly why he liked her. She was smart, pretty, and resourceful. She was everything a man in want of a wife should be looking for. But Hawk was most decidedly not such a man. He’d already lived through that particular tragedy, and now he was content to do without.
The only temptation was the woman running alongside him, matching his pace. But he couldn’t be the kind of man a woman needed him to be, and he was fairly certain a woman like her wouldn’t be interested anyway.
Besides that, he knew the pain of losing a spouse. And any woman dumb enough to join him in matrimony would find herself a widow before the ink was dry. He wasn’t selfish enough to put someone through the pain he’d been through.
“Go home,” he said. “I’ll send word.”
“Haven’t you figured out by now that I’m not one to sit at home, working on my embroidery,” she said, not even sounding out of breath.
So unladylike, and so exactly what made him want her.
“Go home,” he said again.
A hint of a smile twinkled on her face. “We’ve gone far enough that I’d have to walk all by myself. Do you really want me going so far unescorted?”
A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed her words. They were closer to the bridge than camp, and there was a sea of tents full of riffraff between them. He wouldn’t let her go alone, and she knew it. She knew how to play him like a fiddle, and it only added to her charms. At least tomorrow, they would go their separate ways, and he’d finally be done with the torment.
“Fine,” he said. “But stay close.”
As he approached the bridge, it was eerily silent. Smoke filled the air, along with the distinctive smell of dynamite.
What were they thinking, blasting so close to the bridge?
Hopefully, the fools hadn’t tried finding their own silver again, as they’d talked about doing on another drunken bender.
As he stepped through the smoke, he saw a body lying across the tracks. The breeze blew some of the smoke away, allowing him to see a bit farther. But as he approached the body, he spied greater devastation than a dead man. A gaping hole in the middle of the bridge made it abundantly clear that no train would be crossing into Noelle tomorrow morning.
Everything Hawk had worked for was going to be destroyed—just like the bridge.
The dreams of dozens of men on his crew were going to be dashed, as they were all counting on that bonus for getting the rail to Noelle by the Fourth of July. And then there were the people of Noelle, good, hard-working people, who were desperate for a rail line to connect them to civilization.
With a heavy heart, he approached the body. As he rolled it over, fuses for the dynamite fell out of the man’s pocket. Before he could investigate further, Rosalind cried out, “Papa,” and threw herself at the body.
Rosalind had had a bad feeling all day. Now, seeing her father’s body before her, she wished she’d pleaded harder with him to stay home. When he’d told her he was going out to stop the commotion at the saloon tent, she’d begged him not to. She’d told him no good could come from him interfering with a bunch of drunken railroad workers celebrating the completion of the rail line.
What was she going to tell her mother? Her brother and sisters?
They were coming to Noelle to build a new life, to get her mother out of the dirty air of the city, and into the fresh air of the mountains. The doctor had said her health would improve with the better air, and so far, it had been working. Their mother was stronger than she had ever been, and she was looking forward to the family’s new adventure, running a boarding house in the wilds of the west.
But what would this news do for her mother’s health? Would she have another setback, knowing she had to do it alone? Oh, the unfairness of it all.
“Turn away,” Hawk said. “Please. You don’t want that to be the last memory you have of him. Quick. Close your eyes. Think of your best day ever with him and imagine that as you turn away. You cannot look upon him anymore.”
She turned away, not because he’d told her to, but so she could look Hawk in the eye. “How can I not? He’s my father. And you don’t know anything of what it means to lose someone so beloved.”
A strange expression crossed his face, unlike the usual look of annoyance he usually gave her. She knew very well that he thought she was a pesky little schoolgirl getting in the way. But she was helping her father and brother, doing what she had to for her family, and a loner like Hawk couldn’t possibly understand how deep those ties ran.
She returned to her father’s side and knelt beside him. Brushing the stray lock of hair that always seemed to fall over his forehead, she prayed that he hadn’t suffered too badly. It was hard to believe he was dead, seeing him like this because if it weren’t for the dull eyes staring back at her, she would just think he was asleep. Other than the cold, clammy feel of his skin, there was nothing to indicate he had departed this world.
Hawk knelt beside her and gently closed his eyelids. “Why can’t you ever do as anyone asks? You are too curious, Rosalind, and one day it will get you into trouble.”
Before she could reply, the sound of footsteps made her turn. The others had arrived from the camp and come upon them.
“What’s this?” one of them asked. In the rising din of voices, Rosalind wasn’t sure she could tell who it was.
Hawk stood. “Joe Creary is dead. Someone get a wagon.” His voice caught slightly, then he added, “and someone has destroyed the bridge.”
The crowd grew louder as they raced past him to see the bridge for themselves. It didn’t take long to h
ear the anger and disappointment echoing through the men who’d toiled day after day to meet the railroad’s deadline.
Brian MacLeod, one of the men she’d often served supper to, and whose marriage proposal she’d turned down at least a dozen times, turned to them. “And Joe? What was his part in this?”
Rosalind looked up at Hawk, who appeared to be hiding something behind his back. “I don’t rightly know. But I aim to find out.”
Brian appeared to notice that Hawk was hiding something as well. “What’s that you got there?” he asked.
Hawk shook his head. “Nothing of your concern.”
Another man came around Hawk. “Them’s fuses for dynamite. What are you doing with dynamite fuses and a hole in the bridge?”
The mob of angry men turned toward Hawk. Brian looked him up and down. “So that’s what you’re about then? Bad enough to work us all to the bone, and now you have to keep us from getting that bonus by blowing a hole in the bridge?”
Hawk shook his head. “No. I found them here when we came upon Joe. I figured this would be good evidence to turn over to the authorities.”
“Or destroy it, so the authorities don’t know you and Joe been involved,” Brian said, taking a step toward Hawk.
Hawk stood his ground. “You and I both know that’s not true. Of all the people here, I had the best reason for wanting to get this bridge on time. You’re a fool if you think that I’d do the damage.”
Rosalind: A Thanksgiving Day Bride (Brides of Noelle Book 8) Page 1
