“Yes, it does,” Brandy said.
“Can we get one of those servants that MacTavish talked about?”
“Now why would we need a servant?” Brandy asked Scott with hands on her hips. “We don’t have a decent house yet.”
“So I don’t have to milk that blamed cow no more,” Scott said, frowning.
They all laughed as they pitched in and started to carry things to their new home. The house would take a lot of work, but they had finally found a home, and they wouldn’t have to worry about money or anyone kicking them out again.
And they were together. As a matter of fact, their family had grown. Most of all, Brandy had grown.
She would love to know that she had turned into the woman that Father Brown had hoped she would become. She smiled up to Heaven. The wind started to blow, and in the wind she could hear Father Brown’s voice as if it danced on the breeze.
“You have done well, my child. But then I always knew you would.”
* * *
That night after dinner, Brandy and Thunder stood outside looking at their new home.
“Can you believe that its ours?” Brandy asked.
“Not yet. Everything has happened so quickly,” Thunder said. “I thought I wanted one thing, and when I got it, it wasn’t what I wanted at all. I had what I really wanted near me all the time.” His eyes swept Brandy’s body in one long caress.
“I knew what I wanted,” she said, taking his hand in hers. “Just had a hard time convincing him,” she said tenderly.
He stepped forward and clasped her in his arms. “You’re rich now. Are you sure you still want me?” His breath was warm and moist against her face, and her heart raced as she gave him a saucy little smile. “I want you more than money.”
He had the oddest expression when he said, “We should go to town first thing tomorrow.”
“Why?”
The silver shone in his eyes as he gazed at her. “So I can make you my wife before you change your mind.”
She looked at him with all the love she had. “I won’t change my mind,” she assured him.
He lowered his head and his mouth moved over hers hungrily. “It’s been a long time since we made love,” he whispered huskily.
She melted into his embrace and clung to him, never wanting this moment to end. She desperately wanted more of him, and now she would have a lifetime of loving him.
When the kiss finally ended, Thunder whispered in her ear. “Are you happy, Brandy?”
Her long fingers traveled up to the nape of his neck, and she smiled. “When I’m in your arms, I feel like I could dance on the wind. My happiness is you.”
Take a peek
Book 2 - UNTIL SEPTEMBER - here is a peek.
Two years later—1872 Pikes Peak, Colorado Territory
* * *
Mary Costner bolted straight up in bed.
She felt disoriented.
Why was her head so swimmy? And her skin clammy?
Blinking with difficulty, it took her several moments before she realized she was in her own bedroom, even though she couldn’t remember actually going to bed.
She couldn’t remember anything!
Panic set in. It was almost as if she were waking up in a dream. Nothing was real. There had to be a reason for her confusion.
Her breath came in short pants. And her head was killing her. She reached up to touch her forehead, and that’s when she realized she had something tightly clutched in her right hand.
It was a knife ... a bloody Bowie knife.
She glanced at her hands as if they didn’t be-long to her. They were covered in blood. But whose blood? Hers?
“Jim!” Mary screamed.
She threw the knife away from her as if it were a poisonous snake. Glancing down, she saw blood on her clothes and all over the sheets. She checked herself and found a small cut on her arm, but other than that she seemed to be all right. She had to be alive because the pounding in her head wouldn’t hurt so bad if she were dead.
The blood was sticky, and the smell ... oh God, the smell. She was going to be sick.
She ran for the slop jar and emptied the contents of her stomach, then rested back on her heels. Feeling that she’d been plunged into a black, cold hole and was having trouble reaching the top, she grabbed her middle and forced herself to take deep breaths.
What was wrong?
Where was Jim? And why hadn’t he come when she called?
Slowly she turned toward the door. There was still a light flickering in the main room, so the fire hadn’t gone completely out. She tiptoed across the floor, the wood feeling cold on her bare feet. “Jim?” she called again to her partner.
They had worked the Lazy Dollar Mine for two years and had hit their third strike yesterday—a rich vein of gold. She could remember that part of yesterday, but after returning to the cabin she couldn’t recall anything else. It was as if someone had erased her memory.
“Jim?” Mary whispered as she entered the main room. There lying in front of the fireplace was Big Jim. Maybe he was just sleeping. “Jim.” He didn’t respond.
She ran to him and knelt down. “Wake up, Jim. Tell me what happened,” Mary pleaded, but she didn’t receive a response. Jim normally didn’t drink, and the one time he had gotten rip-roaring drunk, he hadn’t been pleasant. That had been a year ago, and he’d sworn he would never get drunk again.
However, he reeked of alcohol. She rolled him over.
His eyes were wide open in a death stare and his throat had been cut—a nasty, bloody hole.
Mary started screaming and crying all at the same time as she jerked her hands back. Her heart slammed against her chest. Finally, she lost her voice as she rocked back and forth, staring at the man she’d come to love as a father. “Who did this?” she sobbed, “and why didn’t they kill me, too?”
She stood up, but her legs were so wobbly, she fell back down. Now wasn’t the time to fell apart She must pull herself together. So with as much determination as she could muster, she rose again. This time her knees held, but she was still shaking all over as she made her way to the bedroom to get a sheet.
She jerked a sheet off the bed and covered Jim. What happened last night ? Her mind screamed the question over and over. She couldn’t remember anything from the minute she walked through the cabin door.
Glancing out the window, she realized it would be daylight in a few hours, and then she could go for the marshal.
Mary turned from the window and glanced at her clothes. No. She couldn’t go to the marshal. Look at her, she was covered in blood, and she’d had the knife in her hand. In the eyes of the law, she’d look guilty as sin.
“Hell,” she swore, having picked up some colorful language from the miners. With the evidence all around her, even she would think she’d killed Jim. But something deep within Mary told her that she hadn’t. He’d even helped her hide her identity. She’d been careful to conceal the fact that she was a woman. One woman in a mining camp with thirty men would cause a distraction.
So if she didn’t kill Jim, then somebody else did and wanted her to take the blame. Or maybe they were waiting to come after her again. She must do something. But what?
As soon as daybreak arrived, somebody would come by to check on Jim, and see if he was ready to head to the mine.
She began to pace. A sob escaped her throat
“Think, Mary! Now is no time to fall apart,” she said to herself. She looked back at Jim. She didn’t want to leave him like this. She wanted to see to a proper funeral. Jim deserved that. But the authorities probably wouldn’t listen to her. Not when they found out she’d been lying about her identity.
And the law would be coming. Soon.
Run, Mary.
About the Author
Brenda Jernigan is a bestselling author. Her books have been nominated for many awards - Book Seller’s Best Award, The Maggie Award, and The Holt Medallion Award. Publisher’s Weekly said, “Brenda Jernigan writes Romanc
e, Adventure and Magic.”
She grew up living the life of a tomboy – climbing trees, playing ball, and excluding starry-eyed romance from her daily repertoire. Brenda discovered the love of books while taking her son to Story Hour at the local library -- she was hooked. She set an ambitious goal and began work on her first novel. She continued to write six more novels in rapid succession. She figured having the same birthday as Ernest Hemingway couldn’t hurt.
She is a member of RWA, NINC, PAN, PASIC, and Outreach International Romance Writers where she was President.
Her books have been printed in several languages and her last book “Southern Seduction” written under the name of Alexandria Scott was printed in Russian.
Note to Readers:
* * *
If you enjoyed DANCE ON THE WIND, I hope you will encourage other readers to also enjoy the story.
Recommend it: Please help make other readers aware of the collection by recommending it to your friends, reader groups, and discussion venues.
Review it: Please consider telling other readers why you enjoyed the book by posting a review at Amazon or Goodreads. Even just a line or two could help potential readers to pick up the book. If you do post a review, please email me at [email protected] so I can thank you personally. Or say hello via my website: www.brendajbooks.com
Thank you!
Brenda Jernigan
* * *
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Also by Brenda Jernigan
The Ladies Series
THE DUKE’S LADY
LOVE ONLY ONCE
THE WICKED LADY
* * *
CHRISTMAS IN CAMELOT
* * *
The Misfit Series
DANCE ON THE WIND
UNTIL SEPTEMBER
WHISPERS ON THE WIND
* * *
SEPPTEMBER STORM
THE CHOICE
BLACK MAGIC
* * *
THE MISFITS
STORMY PASSION
LORDS, LAIRDS AND LEGENDS
GENTLEMEN ALWAYS PLAY FAIR
ONLY A DUKE OR LAIRD WILL DO
ROUGES NEVER PLAY FAIR
* * *
SOUTHERN SEDUCTION
WESTERN SEDUCTION
Dance on the Wind Page 26
