by Deb Kastner
“I have to go now since I’m—” He paused. “Kind of in charge of organizing this.” Before she could get a word in, he said, “But I’ll be back as soon as I can. In the meantime, grab yourself a lemonade and try to enjoy the day.”
“Jax?”
He turned back to her.
“What about the vet? Is he even coming, or did you just make that up?”
“Oh, he’s coming. Around lunchtime, I think. He loves a good meal.”
“But he’ll look at the filly, right?”
Jax smiled. “Of course. I’m not going to let that little girl down. I had the privilege of seeing her be born. Have you named her yet?”
“No. I thought maybe we could name her together.”
“Great idea. I’ll see you at lunch.”
She watched Jax walk away, but she lost track of him soon after that. It was hard to make out anyone in particular when everyone was wearing a cowboy hat. At length she took Jax’s advice and got a glass of lemonade. She tried to offer to help at the food tables but was promptly turned away.
Everyone seemed to know that this was her day—even people she hadn’t met before. She wondered exactly what Jax had told them. Whatever it was, it must have been good.
She wandered around, watching folks thatching her roof and painting her barn. It actually looked quite nice after it had been painted in the red and white colors it was supposed to be. Almost like something off a country calendar.
She was surprised when Frank Spencer, Jo’s husband, approached her and pulled her aside.
“Now, I know you have a nice big sign out in front of your ranch,” he said in a gruff but friendly voice. “But I thought maybe you’d like to have something to hang over your barn, so I—uh—well, here. Take this.”
He pointed to a large, tissue-wrapped package lying next to the side of the barn and walked away without another word. Curious, she pulled back the tissue to find a handmade burned-wood carving.
Untamed.
She swallowed hard but the tears still came. This wasn’t about fixing up an old house or painting a barn. It was about a community accepting her as their own, and not just her, but the horse rescue she represented.
She was certain there was no better feeling in the world.
She tried to find Frank to thank him for his thoughtful gift, but he had disappeared. A few minutes later, Jo pulled her aside, letting her know lunch was about to begin.
“Folks,” she called, loud enough to get the attention of those closest around her. From there, people continued calling and whistling until everyone was looking at Jo—and at Faith.
She was beginning to understand how Jax must have felt up on that auction block.
“Today we’re celebrating with our new neighbor, Faith Dugan. As most of you know, she has put a great deal of time and effort into getting this here mustang refuge up and running. I’m sure I can speak for her when I say she appreciates all that you’ve done for her today. And if you’re feeling so inclined, she could also use a little cash to help with the horses’ upkeep and in fixing up her land that was recently burned. She didn’t ask for that, by the way. I extemporized.” Jo laughed heartily at her own joke, but Faith noticed that Frank had reappeared and was passing his hat. People were reaching into their pockets just as surely as if it was a Sunday morning offering.
“I know everyone is ready to dig in to all this great food,” Jo continued, to a big round of applause. “But there’s one more item on our agenda.”
The crowd parted, and Faith saw Jax at the corral gate. He and the vet were crouched over the little chestnut filly. Jax looked up and grinned, then motioned for her to join him.
She held her breath. How could the newborn foal have anything to do with—whatever was going on?
“Vet says she checks out good,” Jax told her, loud enough for everyone to hear.
She questioned him with her eyes, but he was giving nothing away. He just kept smiling.
“That’s—nice.” She wished she’d read this script in advance. She had no idea what she was supposed to say.
“I was thinking we might want to name her. This seems like as good a day as any.” He said it in such an offhand way she would have believed he was just making casual conversation, except for the fact that they were surrounded by the entire population of Serendipity and they were all watching avidly.
“I thought maybe Rose and Violet could help us pick out the perfect name.”
“O-kay.”
“Mama? Jo? Will you please bring the babies out here?”
The two ladies didn’t need to be told twice. She’d never seen Jo Murphy walk so fast, and even Alice, with her arthritis, was moving at a clipped pace. The animation in their faces was a dead giveaway to—something.
They put the babies down in front of Faith and stepped away. She looked at Jax, wondering what she was supposed to do. It wasn’t as if the babies were going to tell her a name.
Or were they?
She remembered the first time she’d seen the twins, so sweet and vulnerable as they waited for their daddy to come rescue them.
They hadn’t had names. She and Jax had searched them for notes. She bent down and brushed her hand through Rose’s ruffled dress.
Sure enough, there was a note there, folded in half and fastened with a diaper pin. She laughed as she removed it and waved it for the crowd’s benefit. She was about to open it when Jax stopped her.
“Wait. Get Violet’s note first. It’ll make more sense if you have both of the notes together.”
This whole thing was making less than no sense to Faith, but she went along for the ride, feeling as if she was taking part in some larger-than-life baby-shower game, with diaper pins and newborn foals.
She stood with a folded note in each hand. “Can I open them now?”
Jax jammed his hands into the front pockets of his blue jeans. “Yeah. Yes. Open them now.”
Faith didn’t know what she expected, but she thought the notes would at least be in English. Or maybe they were, but there was only a single letter on each note.
V.
V? V.V.? What was that supposed to stand for?
“You want to call the horse V.V.?” she asked, confused.
Jax burst into laughter. “They aren’t letters, Faith. It’s a picture.”
She looked at the notes again, trying without success to figure out what in the world he was talking about. She glanced up to ask Jax to give her another hint, but he was no longer standing.
He was kneeling, with a diamond ring in his hand.
“Get it?” He grinned.
She glanced around her, totally flustered. Every eye in the place was on her. She didn’t know whether she should address the notes in her hand or the name of the filly or—
Oh.
Jax was still on one knee.
The two notes—put them together and they made a diamond.
Jax stood and took her hands in his. As always, the gentle giant.
“I don’t care what you call the horse,” he said, his voice making every nerve in her body sing. “I just want to hear you tell me you’ll be my wife.”
He held her left hand and poised the ring, then looked at her expectantly.
“I’ll be your wife.”
He slid the ring on her finger and kissed her, and the entire town cheered for them.
The next half hour was a blur. Jo and Alice physically placed them at the beginning of the lunch line, and they had to accept the well-wishes of everyone.
“We’ll have to do this again in—a month?” he whispered suggestively.
“Three. It takes time to plan a wedding.”
“Two.”
“Deal. You know, though—I’m not sure this is all on the up-and-up, te
chnically speaking.”
“How do you figure?” His brow rose upward, as did the adorable half smile that was pulled by his scar. “What did I miss?”
“I think you actually didn’t ask me to marry you. Technically speaking. It was more like a demand.”
“Yeah, that dictator thing. I’ll have to work on that.”
She kissed his cheek, right over his scar. “I’ll help you. I’m sure Rose and Violet don’t want a daddy who bosses them around all day.”
“You’re probably right.” He slid his cheek until his lips met hers. “But you missed something, too. I don’t think I’ve yet heard those three little words.”
“Wait a sec.”
He shook his head. “No, that’s not quite right.”
“No. I mean, wait a sec. I want to get my head and heart together before I say this. I’ve been waiting a long time.”
She took his head in her hands and brushed her thumbs against the soft whiskers on his cheeks. “Jackson McKenna, I love you, and there is nothing I want more in the world than to become your wife and the stepmother of your children.”
His smile made the wait worthwhile.
“Mother,” he corrected. “You are the girls’ mother.”
“I accept,” she whispered, thinking that at that very moment, her life was absolutely perfect.
Except for one thing.
“You know,” she said, “we forgot something else in all this excitement.”
“What’s that? I’ve got my future bride by my side and my beautiful daughters making the rounds with the neighbors. What else could I possibly want?”
“You did say we were going to name the filly. I think we ought to make that official, too, don’t you?”
“Right. The filly. So what do you want to name her, sweetheart?”
She took her time with the answer, simply enjoying the warmth radiating from her future husband’s chocolate-brown eyes. Basking in the feeling of loving completely and being loved completely in return. Scars and all.
“Are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?” he prompted between repeated kisses.
“Why, I thought you already knew,” she said with a laugh. “Her name is Diamond, of course.”
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from CLAIMING THE SINGLE MOM’S HEART by Glynna Kaye.
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Dear Reader,
Welcome back to Serendipity, Texas. I’m so happy you’ve joined me for the fourth novel in my Cowboy Country series. I’m thrilled to be able to write the stories I love—rugged cowboys, sweet babies and the resilient women whose commitment makes their lives and families complete. And as always, it’s a blessing to revisit Serendipity and all the delightful folks who live there.
Unfortunately, the plight of wild mustangs in this country is a very real tragedy and refuges like Faith’s may be the only hope for the future of these fine animals. The Bureau of Land Management has been rounding up a great number of wild horses and burros and placing them in “temporary” holding facilities. But they can’t adopt out as many horses as they’ve contained and the results are devastating, including inhumane roundup practices, poor holding facilities and even mass slaughter.
If we’re not careful, the beautiful herds of wild horses that roam the country in freedom will no longer exist, and that will be a real shame and tragedy indeed.
I hope this book has stirred up your interest in mustangs and what can be done on their behalf. For more information I encourage you to visit my sister’s charity website, http://www.happyhavenfarm.org, or visit a rescue near you.
I’m always delighted to hear from you, dear readers, and I love to connect socially. You can find my website at http://www.debkastnerbooks.com. Come join me on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/debkastnerbooks, or you can catch me on Twitter, @debkastner.
Please know that I pray for each and every one of you daily.
Love courageously,
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Claiming the Single Mom’s Heart
by Glynna Kaye
Chapter One
“A family legend is worthless unless you have proof.”
“I’m going to get proof.” With more confidence than she felt, Sunshine Carston gave her longtime friend Tori a reassuring nod. “It’s just taking longer than expected.”
Much longer.
She shifted restlessly in the passenger seat of Victoria Janner’s steel-blue Kia compact as they searched for a parking spot in the crowded graveled lot of Hunter’s Hideaway. Her own ancient SUV was in the shop—again—and out-of-town visitor Tori had agreed to take a detour while running errands Saturday morning. But Tori’s willingness had swiftly evaporated when on the way to their destination Sunshine had divulged her true intention for this next stop.
Big mistake.
She rolled down her window, breathing in the soothing scent of sun-warmed ponderosa pines. An aroma deliciously indigenous to the rugged mountain country surrounding Hunter Ridge, Arizona, it was one her great-great-grandparents would have been familiar with. One she herself would have likely grown up with had life not dealt her ancestors an unfair blow.
She stared across the parking lot at the connecting log, stone and frame structures that made up the main building of Hunter’s Hideaway. The vast wooded acreage had been a home away from home for hunters, horsemen, hikers and other outdoorsmen since Harrison “Duke” Hunter had—allegedly—rooted it to that exact spot early in the past century.
“They seem to be doing a good business this Labor Day weekend.” Resentment welled up within her. “No noisy remodeling like they’re inflicting on the Artists’ Cooperative gallery this morning.”
A cute blonde with a pixie haircut, Tori and her usual dazzling smile was nowhere to be seen as they slipped into an empty spot. “If you go in there with a chip on your shoulder,” she cautioned, “you can’t expect a positive outcome.”
What response had Sunshine hoped to get from her friend when she’d confessed her true motive for relocating to Hunter Ridge two years ago? A cry of outrage at the unfairness of it all? Reinforcement of her plans? Encouragement to face her fear of the influential family who the town was named for?
“And don’t forget,” Tori added as she cut off the engine, “what the good Lord says about revenge.”
; “I’m seeking justice. Not revenge. There’s a difference.”
A big difference. Revenge involved retaliation. Inflicting injury. Justice had to do with revealing truth and righting wrongs. And yes, restoring of at least some of what by rights belonged to her family. To her. And to her five-year-old daughter, Tessa.
Tori cast her a disbelieving look. “Surely you don’t think anyone is going to fork over restitution for something your great-great-grandfather was supposedly cheated out of. Even if you could prove it—which I doubt you can—you don’t have the money to back up your claim with legal action.”
“No, but I’m counting on the seemingly impeccable reputation of the Hunters to apply its own brand of pressure. That they’ll be compelled, for the sake of their standing in the community, to make things right once the facts are brought to their attention.”
Tori slumped down in the bucket seat. “I wish you hadn’t told me any of this. It sounds too much like blackmail.”
Sunshine made a face. “Not blackmail. I look at it as an opportunity for them to live up to their good name. I don’t hold it against later generations that Duke Hunter didn’t play well with others.”
“You could get hauled into court if one of them thinks it smacks of extortion.” Tori gave her a sharp glance. “Especially now that you’ve decided to run for a town council seat against one of the family members.”
Against Elaine Hunter, who was trying for a second term.
“Everything will be aboveboard. Trust me, okay?”
If only her maternal grandmother, Alice Heywood, were still alive. She’d recall the details of the account Sunshine remembered hearing as a kid. The vague references to “the ridge of the hunter.” A betrayal by someone considered a friend. It was a story, though, which over time she’d dismissed as nothing but a fairy tale that once captured her childish imagination. That was, until her world turned upside down not long after her daughter’s birth and she began pondering the possibilities.
“The din from their renovation of the property next to the Artists’ Co-op,” she continued, “offers a perfect excuse for a visit. You heard the racket this morning. That less-than-sympathetic contractor overseeing the project told me to take it up with the Hunters. So here I am.”
