by Caryl McAdoo
A Texas Romance
Book Four, 1851-1853
Praying my story gives God glory!
Five Star Reviews of
Sins of the Mothers
Caryl McAdoo does it again with what I think is the best book yet in this series. The characters are so real and have a heap of real issues on their plates from page one. Pick it up and you won't be able to put it down.
--Holly Michael, author of Crooked Lines and coming soon
First and Goal: What Football Taught me About Never Giving
Up written with her NFL-player son, Jake Byrne
There are so many biblical truths and parallels in Sins of the Mothers, it is hard to know where to begin. Although set in the nineteenth century, this is a modern retelling of the stories of both the prodigal son and Hosea, with many other biblical themes: that one cannot live life looking backwards, forgiveness…we all must forgive in order to move on; listening for God’s speaking, and the need to be obedient; the evils of drink as several characters make unwise judgements after partaking; and to take care of the widows and orphans.
A delightful young orphan called Francy comes into Mary's life, a child delightfully drawn. I loved her exchanges of dialogue. Mary Rachel is a strong female character who has her flaws - she is far too trusting of men, and believes what they tell her. She is, in consequence, very human, and very likeable. I always enjoy reading Caryl McAdoo's Texas Romance novels, and have a hard time putting them down. This latest offering is no exception!
--Julia Wilson, United Kingdom reader
I've often wondered if the past can repeat itself in a person's life and Mary Rachel Buckmeyer gave me my answer. Love, betrayal, despair, the sweet faith of little children, and the perseverance of a miner. These all made for a wonderful story of what life was like in San Francisco during the gold rush of the 1850's. When I finished the last page of Mary's story, I smiled and thought... I loved this story! But... There had better be another book coming because I want more of these Buckmeyer's! I'd recommend this story to anyone who enjoys reading a good Christian, historical fiction of the 1800's.
--Deanna Stevens, Nebraska reader
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, places, characters, and events are products of the author’s imaginations, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
2015 by Caryl McAdoo
All rights reserved including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever- except short passages for reviews – without express permission. For information, address Post Office Box 622, Clarksville, Texas, 75426.
First Edition
May 3, 2015
Printed and bound in the United States of America
ISBN-13 978-1503-1975-4-1
ISBN-10 1503-1975-4-9
Cover Art by Kirk DouPonce of Dogeared Design, Woodland Park, CO.
www.dogeareddesign.com
Author’s photograph by The Farmer’s Wife Photography, Angela Greenwell, Frankston, Texas
Index
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Texas Romance Characters
Historical Texas Romances
Contemporary Romances
Biblical Fiction
Coming Soon
Dedication
Always to God, Almighty Creator, my glory and the lifter of my head, the air I breathe, my daily bread, my rock and shield, my very present help in times of trouble! I love Him and long only to bring Him glory!
Then always to Ron, my husband these past forty-seven years, my dearest and most beloved best friend since we were sixteen, my protector, counselor, and care-giver, my lover and my laughter, the kindest man I know.
Without their unconditional love, inspiration, support, guidance, and encouragement, forget any stories, I would cease to exist. But, I’ve been waiting for this book to honor Mama.
Naomi Ruth Cloyd Lawrence
January 9, 1931 – August 2, 1997
Mama served as my first proof of how very much God loves me. We laughed and played and prayed together. When Ron and I were still in high school, we’d cut class and play scrabble with her all day. If she gave us any trouble, Ron turned her upside down and made her walk on the ceiling, all of us laughing so hard, he almost dropped her on her head.
So much like Christ, Mama had forty-three family members—her six children (three by birth, three by marriage but no less loved), her fifteen grandchildren, her fourteen great-grandchildren, and nieces and nephews—living within a one mile radius. Everyone loved her and wanted just to be near.
When she could barely be up more than an hour at a time toward the end, she’d rise early and start cooking. By the end of the day, Mama called us to come by and get our ‘box’. She cut handles in cardboard boxes and had each family’s dinner – meat, veggies, salad, and dessert in it.
Such a servant!
Mama loved me well. I love her more.
I can hardly wait to see her again!
A song I wrote for Mama’s last Mothers’ Day on this earth; bedfast with only three more months…
You Never Gave Up
by Caryl McAdoo
Mothers’ Day, 1997
You never gave up on me
You always believed in me
You faithfully guided me
And prayed me through the years.
You kissed away so much pain.
Together we’d laugh again.
You listened and understood
And wiped away my tears.
Oh, a mother is a servant.
She’s a picture of our King.
She’s the one who does the dishes
and keeps the house so clean.
And though a mother can’t be perfect,
Mine seems pretty close to me,
’Cause when I see my Mama’s face
I see Jesus.
Acknowledgements
Again always it’s God, the lover of my soul, I must acknowledge first. I am my Beloved’s, and He is mine.
Always and forever…
Praying my story gives God glory!
And my Sweetest Sugar of them all—my husband. On June 22nd this year, we’ll celebrate forty-seven years. After dating a year, then being engaged a year, we both graduated in May then married in June. Such babies we were! Both eighteen, we set up house and started living life as much in love as anyone could ever be. I never would’ve been published if not for him and his wise counsel.
He’s quite the story teller himself!
Thank you, Kirk DouPonce of Dog Eared Design for creating my beautiful cove
r. What a gifted Christian led by God, you are! A joy to work with.
I have a group I call the Christian eVALUaters, they are the first readers after all the edits are made (five or six, minimum), and sometimes find one or two more to help me make it the best I can. They support me on social media with every cover reveal, book launch, and promotion, and they review all my books! Authors need a few special volunteers, and every one of these ladies—and the few fellers, too—deserve and have my deep gratitude.
God-sent Lenda Selph who continues to bless my soul proofreading for me. If only I could return her great favor. I may not be able to, but my Abba can, and I pray He does! Thank you, Lenda!
And I must acknowledge all my readers! Thank you for reading my stories. Thank you for taking the time to leave a review at Amazon and Goodreads, for clicking ‘Share’ and ‘Like’ on Facebook, Tweeting, and recommending my books to your friends. I need y’all and thank y’all and pray for God to bless you for blessing me! My cup overflows!
Proverbs 31:10-31
Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies. The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil. She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.
She seeketh wool, and flax, and worketh willingly with her hands. She is like the merchants' ships; she bringeth her food from afar. She riseth also while it is yet night, and giveth meat to her household, and a portion to her maidens.
She considereth a field, and buyeth it: with the fruit of her hands she planteth a vineyard. She girdeth her loins with strength, and strengtheneth her arms. She perceiveth that her merchandise is good: her candle goeth not out by night.
She layeth her hands to the spindle, and her hands hold the distaff. She stretcheth out her hand to the poor; yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy. She is not afraid of the snow for her household: for all her household are clothed with scarlet.
She maketh herself coverings of tapestry; her clothing is silk and purple. Her husband is known in the gates, when he sitteth among the elders of the land. She maketh fine linen, and selleth it; and delivereth girdles unto the merchant.
Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come. She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness. She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness.
Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her. Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.
Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised. Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates.
All of Caryl’s Books
Historical Christian Texas Romances
Vow Unbroken - 1832
Hearts Stolen - 1839-1844
Hope Reborn - 1850-1851
Sins of the Mothers - 1851-1853
Contemporary Christian
Red River Romance
The Preacher’s Faith
Sing a New Song
Apple Orchard Romance
Lady Luck’s a Loser
Biblical fiction,The Generations
A Little Lower Than the Angels
Then the Deluge Comes
Mid-Grade, River Bottom Ranch Stories
The Adventures of Sergeant Socks
The Journey Home
The Bravest heart
Amazing Graci Guardian of the River Bottom Goats
Miscellaneous Novels
The Thief of Dreams Warning: not for Christians!
The Price Paid
Absolute Pi (audio)
Apple Orchard B&B (now Lady Luck’s a Loser)
Non-fiction
Great Firehouse Cooks of Texas
Antiquing in North Texas
Chapter One
With everyone on the porch for the clan’s send-off, Mary Rachel decided for sure and for certain and could wait no longer. She took a deep breath and hugged his neck.
“Daddy, I’m sorry. I really am, but I can’t go. No, I mean I’m not going. I can’t leave. I won’t.”
He leaned back and stared at her for too long a minute, his face suddenly stone cold. “What did you just say?”
She grimaced, then steam rose to her cheeks. He softened just like he always had when her mother turned on him. Saying it aloud made it all the more real, strengthened her resolve.
“I cannot be gone for seven months. I thought for a while maybe I could, but I can’t, Daddy.”
Her new mother stepped close. “But Mary Rachel, why? It’s the trip of a lifetime. I promise you’ll adore Europe.”
“It’s just Mary now, please. No Rachel. That’s what Caleb calls me.”
His voice lowered to almost a whisper; he slipped some of the steel back on. “So. This is about that boy.”
“He’s a man, Daddy, and you know it. We love each other.”
“If he loves you, Baby, then he’ll wait. It’s only seven months. He should be thrilled you have this opportunity to travel Europe.”
“Well, I’ve made my decision, and I’m not going.”
“We’ve booked your passage.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner, but I knew you wouldn’t be happy about my decision.” She looked off at the tree line, hating the disappointment in his eyes, but that was a coward’s way. She faced him again. “Like I said, I thought I could. Anyway, let Bonnie take my place.”
From somewhere, her youngest sister burst into the middle. “Can I, Daddy? Please take me! I’ll be good. Mama, tell him how good I’ll be.” She turned those doe eyes on him. “Pleeeease.”
Six miles, north by northwest as the turkey vultures soar from Clarksville, Texas, the very reason Mary stayed home, rode his best mule, as he skidded the black walnut saw log back to his cabin.
Caleb looked behind. “Slow, girl, almost there.”
He nudged the animal a bit further, the timber only feet from his makeshift hoist. Two more steps, then he eased Harley Sue to a stop. He hopped down then rubbed the old girl’s near ear. “You sure are a good mule.”
The distant rattle of trace chains turned him east; for a minute he stared, then she waved. “Well, look here what the cat drug in.”
He unhooked the skid and led Harley Sue to the barn’s corral; got back before Lanelle had the brake set on her wagon. “She go?”
“Nope.”
He nodded. “You sure? Saw it with your own eyes?”
“Yep, he took the three younger girls, but not the princess.” She stood and threw him a smirk. “Help me down.”
“Sure.” He stepped toward her with his arms held out; she fell into them. He caught her then twirled her around as she wrapped hers around his neck. He set her feet to the ground then stepped back a bit.
Business first. “Anyone see you turn on my road?”
“No, but what difference would it make? I’m only bringing supplies for my kin.”
“True, you get it all?”
“A pound of salt pork, two pounds of salt, and a pound of coffee, but you best get yourself to town. Old man Hobbs wants a word with you. Wasn’t too happy when I told him to put it on your bill ’stead of Pappy’s.”
Caleb nodded toward his wagon. “I should have this lumber loaded by Saturday. I’ll see to him on my way to Jefferson.”
She shrugged then turned and moseyed toward the cabin. “That last batch any better?”
Heading the opposite direction to the well, he soon went to cranking; retrieved the jug, pulled the cork, and took a slug. When he didn’t follow, she looked around then trotted to him grinning.
He extended his home brew. “You tell me.”
Always a sight to behold, she accepted the jug without an ounce of pretension, licked her lips, took a short pull, then wiped her mouth. “Boogers, Caleb.” She grinned then got herself a real drink. “Woo! I’d say that may be the best you’ve cooked
yet.”
He took the jug back and sipped a few tastes more. Burned good all the way down. Replacing the cork, he nodded toward the cabin. “You got time?”
She reached for the liquor. “Depends.”
He twisted away. “On what?”
“You really going to marry that Buckmeyer girl?”
“Yes, ma’am, I am, and you best get used to the idea.”
“Her daddy ain’t going to like it, and you know it. He’s liable to cut her off. Where you gonna be then?”
“I got it all worked out, and if you do like I say, it’ll work out for you, too, cousin of mine.”
She stepped close, put one hand on his chest, the other on the jug. “How so?”
“Come on inside, and I’ll tell you.”
She pulled back, taking the jug with her. “You got one of these for me?”
“Course, but you best not tell Auntie where you got it if she catches you.”
She shook her head. “Don’t worry about her. You best be hoping Pappy don’t ever find out what we been doing all these years.”
From the moment her daddy and his new wife left—the three little sisters in tow—for their big European adventure, Mary not-so-patiently counted the prescribed nine days. On the eve of the tenth, with true love so near, she hadn’t slept a wink.
All night, she waited for the big clock to strike three. Once it finally did, she retrieved the saddlebags from under her bed.
Tiptoeing downstairs, she barely breathed. With each step, her heartbeat quickened until she reached her daddy’s library. Caught her silly self afore she knocked, so strong ingrained her desire to follow his rules.
But even stronger, her love for Caleb opened the door, and she slipped inside, closing it quietly behind her.
