Bertie bowed her head. Never before had she felt so sure that God wanted her to call upon Him. “Oh, Father. I need You beside me right now. I am so frightened. Father, I’ve acted shamefully, disobeying them, coming out here alone when nobody knows where I am. I need forgiveness. You’ve always taken care of me and blessed me with a family who loves me, yet I blamed You for my sorrows. Father, forgive me now, and help me know if I’m doing what is right. Please let Thomas find me.”
The moment she said “amen,” she felt better.
She’d come upon the men hours ago—she’d only wanted to go to Thomas, tell him she believed in him—but she’d never ridden so far out of town alone. She’d gotten lost, turned around, and instead of surprising Thomas, she’d stumbled across the real rustler. She’d started to hurry to the Two Horse but didn’t want Josiah to get away.
Bad luck followed the men, otherwise Bertie never would have been able to keep up. First, Josiah’s horse threw a shoe. And now one of the cows had its foot firmly wedged between two good-sized rocks.
She was about tuckered out from trying to keep up when another rider joined the men.
The men stopped beside a small stream to rest the horses and talk. Bertie sank gratefully to her knees. Grandmother’s bloomers, she never expected anything like this.
Why was Josiah stealing Thomas’s cattle? Josiah had tons of money, everyone said. Not that he was a good tipper when Bertie waited on him. He looked different this morning: a little wild and a whole lot scarier.
Bertie crawled to a closer tree so she could see the third man.
At first she didn’t believe her eyes. Josiah patted the older man on the shoulder, laughing.
Albert Smit?
Bertie covered her mouth. Why was Mr. Smit with these men?
No, wait a minute.
Even from a distance, Bertie could hear the ominous sound of Josiah laughing as he knocked Albert to the ground.
Ramon chose that moment to find her. He trotted up, nudged her legs, looked toward the scattered cattle, and barked. Josiah’s companion started in her direction.
Bertie took a breath. She was winded, but letting them catch her would not save Mr. Smit or Thomas’s cattle.
Wishing she still wore her father’s comfortable, worn boots instead of these new ankle boots, Bertie turned around and ran right into Thomas’s arms.
Josiah Temple deserved to be the first man to call the Lickwind jail home. Donald Potter looked like he was enjoying himself as he filled out the paperwork that Sheriff Hardin promised to deliver along with the prisoner.
All last night and early this morning, the townspeople had gathered at the Back Porch and put together the pieces to a mystery that started before Thomas and his father had been run out of town. Albert Smit put his hand on the Bible and swore to tell the truth. “I knew all those years ago that Thomas Hardin wasn’t responsible for rustling cattle.”
Every resident of Lickwind leaned forward. Little Brianne nodded and banged her hand on the clean floor of the restaurant.
“Josiah gambled away the money his father left him. When we first moved out here, I gave him a sizable loan and tried to advise him, but things weren’t moving fast enough for him. He started rustling so he could buy more land. At first I didn’t know it was him; and by the time I figured it out, he’d already made it look like Hardin was not only guilty but also rustling from the real crook.”
Jim paced the floor and asked, “And why didn’t you step forward then?”
Albert hung his head. “He’s my brother-in-law. My deceased wife’s only brother. I promised her I’d watch out for him, only I’ve not done too good a job.”
Thomas leaned over and whispered in Bertie’s ear. “Jim and Luke might very well be the only two men who knew that Albert and Josiah were distantly related. They don’t like each other much. Albert didn’t even allow his boys to call Josiah their uncle. Yet every time Josiah messed up, Albert tried to fix it. He knew Scotty would keep the men from stringing up my father, and so Albert made sure we had enough money to start over. When I first got here, Albert made no secret of the fact he wanted me gone. He was doing more of the same when he made a fuss about Anna being in school. I figured he was cut out of Josiah’s cloth. Turns out he knew I’d spur Josiah into thinking it was safe to rustle again now that there was somebody to blame. Albert’s a good man in his own way. Every time Josiah destroyed something belonging to the Two Horse, Albert tried to make up for it by depositing his own money into my account.”
“Poor Mr. Smit,” Bertie whispered. “Imagine carrying all this on his conscience.”
Thomas nodded and looked at his father seated next to him. The two men had started mending the broken fences of their past. Sheriff Hardin waited to escort Josiah on the next train. Rustling was often called a hanging offense, but not in a town where the Craig girls had any say. Plus, Scotty had already made his opinion known. Look at the good that had come from not hanging Sheriff Hardin.
Bertie looked around to see if Bess was looking. Bess and Gideon had not yet given Thomas permission to come calling. Yes, they acknowledged that Thomas had agreed to study the Bible with his father, but that didn’t mean anything until he accepted the Lord.
Bertie grinned at the thought of Thomas studying the Bible with his father. After this trial, Sheriff Hardin intended to turn Josiah and his partner over to the proper authorities; then Sheriff Hardin would return to Lickwind. After all, the town already had a jail. It surely needed a sheriff. And a father needed a second chance with his son.
It took hours, but finally all the questions were answered. Bertie left the proceedings and hurried to the restaurant. Seemed a trial was good for business. She quietly tied on her apron. Gazing out the open window of the kitchen, she could see a section of the Union Pacific train track. How much her life had changed since that long-ago day when the Craig girls arrived in Lickwind.
Jim came through the kitchen door chuckling.
“What’s so funny?” Bertie asked.
“Your young man,” Jim announced.
Bertie couldn’t help but smile. She liked the sound of that. Her young man. “Well, are you going to tell me what’s so funny?”
“He just offered me a buck-fifty for you. Seemed to think that was necessary.” Jim put a hand on her shoulder and said softly, “If that young man of yours ever gives his heart to the Lord, and if you’re both ready, I just might take that money.”
Before Bertie could respond, Jim disappeared through the door, and Thomas took his place.
A place he’d stay forever—in her heart.
For true.
Epilogue
June 1874
A milling crowd of youngsters slowly sorted itself out around the eight adults assembled in front of the photographer in the parlor of the Rough Cs. Bertie tugged her renegade daughter closer to her, wiping at the dirt-smudged face. A full inch of lace hung from the four-year-old’s hem. “Laura Hardin, look at you!”
Thomas watched the pair, an indulgent grin on his face. Not long after he made peace with his father, he’d also made peace with his heavenly Father. He’d carried that spiritual contentment into his marriage to Bertie. “I’m sure your mother never looked like that,” he informed three-year-old Robert, standing proudly beside him.
“Oh, I couldn’t count the times.” Bess Riker sighed.
In front of her, three-year-old Kate Riker pulled on her four-year-old brother Stanley’s arm. “Stand up stwaight,” she ordered.
Bess and Gideon exchanged laughing glances. “Someone else is just like her mother,” Gideon teased. Bess only smiled and looked content.
Her husband slipped his arm around her. “Quite an honor, having our pictures taken with Lickwind’s next mayor.”
“I haven’t won the election yet,” she reminded him.
“You will.”
Seated on a nearby chair, Corrie Collingswood pulled squirmy one-year-old Daniel onto her lap to hide the bulge of her fifth child on t
he way. Beside her, Luke stood proudly with three-year-old Mark on his arm and the five-year-olds, Brianne and Madeline, in front of him. The growing family still lived in the ranch house, which had been expanded twice in the past five years to accommodate both Collingswood clans.
Matty waded through the knot of children as Jim called, “Kids, hurry.”
Five-year-old Matthew stood on Matty’s left; Bess arranged two-year-old Jamie on Matty’s lap; and Jim grabbed almost-four-year-old Corliss away from Corrie’s twins.
As soon as the photograph was done, Matty tugged urgently on Luke’s sleeve. After a pause, during which she bit her lip as though holding back a cry, she said, “Did you take care of things?”
Luke shot Jim a repentant grin. “Ahh, big brother, you might want to tote your wife upstairs. I sent Scotty for Doc Wilson.”
“Why?” Realization dawned, and Jim’s hazel eyes widened. “Today?”
“Now, sweetheart.” Matty winced and rubbed her big tummy as Jim took the stairs two at a time with his wife in his arms.
Bess dashed past them, and Corrie followed as quickly as her girth would allow.
Matty had one more request before her husband deposited her on the bed and permitted her sisters to take over her care. “Tell Bertie to make the photographer stay. I won’t be long, and I want pictures of these twins who are about to make their appearance.”
Downstairs in the parlor, Madeline requested, “Auntie Bertie, tell us again about the big mistake that made you brides.”
“It wasn’t really a mistake, honey,” Jim called as he returned downstairs to await the newest arrivals. “It was the beginning of countless blessings.”
Butter Buds
1 cup butter
1 cup brown sugar
2 eggs, beaten
2 teaspoons vanilla
2½ cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon salt
Cream butter and brown sugar. Add eggs and vanilla. Sift in dry ingredients and mix until soft dough forms. Pinch off pieces. Roll in hands; then press down with form. Bake in 350–375 degree oven.
Pamela Kaye Tracy decided to be an author in second grade. When she grew up, God also put her in charge of a third-grade classroom (by day) and added a college reading class (by night). When not teaching, Pamela spends her time writing, sewing, reading, and staying active at her church. She makes her home in Arizona.
A VOW UNBROKEN
by Amy Rognlie
Prologue
Abby Cantrell stared at the date at the top of the letter, her eyes widening. April 29, 1881. Why hadn’t Aunt Caroline told her it would be so soon? Dropping down into the chair, she smoothed the crisp paper, reading again the telltale words.
Dear Miss Peters,
I can’t tell you how happy I was to receive your letter this past week. I trust that you, as do I, look forward to the approaching day when we shall meet here in Littleton. Enclosed is the train ticket, as well as a little extra money in case you have need of something. I will be waiting for you on the appointed day. Until then, I remain yours truly,
James Parrish
Abby jumped as footsteps sounded in the tiled hallway. Slipping the letter back into the Bible where she had found it, she stood and ambled over to the library window. The fading sunset cast shadows on the budding trees, holding her gaze until she heard the footsteps behind her, their sound muffled by the plush carpet.
“Beautiful evening.”
The softly spoken words invaded the tumult in Abby’s mind. She sighed, turning slightly to drape her arm over the shoulders of the small woman beside her. The comforting scent of roses embraced her. “What am I going to do, Mama?”
Hazel Peters smoothed her daughter’s dark hair. “I don’t know, dear. Surely God has a plan….” She fell silent as Abby turned away to gaze out of the lace-framed window. The silence stretched, broken only by the sound of the mourning doves getting ready to roost. “But I do know this,” Hazel whispered. “He said He would not give us more than we could bear.”
Abby eyed the darkening sky. Her mind acknowledged the truth of her mother’s words, but her heart felt the shadows of night moving slowly and surely, threatening to plunge her into a darkness unlike any she had ever known.
Chapter 1
James Parrish gripped his cap tightly at the sound of a distant train whistle. He scarcely noticed the porters checking the luggage or the scampering children. His concentration focused on the tiny, moving speck in the distance. Perspiration prickled at the nape of his neck.
Would she be on the train, as she had promised? He had waited so long, had pored over her letter, had dreamed of what she would look like. Miss Caroline Peters. He liked the sound of it as he rolled it around in his mind. He stared at the train, now close enough for him to read the letters on the side. The DENVER RIO GRAND RAILWAY. He peered anxiously at the windows, straining to see as the train squealed to a stop. Was she finally here?
He watched the passengers as they disembarked. Most were Denverites coming to Littleton for a day in the country. He kneaded his cap, his eyes locked on the straggling line of people. There. Was that her? His heart leaped as he spied a dark-haired woman coming toward him, a welcoming smile on her lovely face. She had almost reached him when an older gentleman brushed past him and grasped her arm.
James exhaled forcefully and turned his attention back to those still struggling down the narrow steps, their valises bumping their sides. He wished that he had a more detailed description, but the brief one she had sent him would have to do. He would find her if it was the last thing … wait. There. That had to be her. One of the last passengers to come down the steps, she paused at the platform as if unsure of herself. He watched her glance about, the fetching pink feather in her hat softly dancing, her arms full. He couldn’t see her face very well until her gaze fell on him.
The woman smiled tentatively, and he started toward her as if in a dream, his gaze locked with hers. Finally, he stood in front of her. Her hazel eyes reminded him of the first greening of spring. She was beautiful. And so small. She barely came up to his shoulder….
“Mr. Parrish?” At her softly spoken words, James realized that he had been staring.
“Yes, I’m Mr. Parrish.” He winced at how stiff and formal he sounded. He had wanted to greet her warmly. Welcoming. But meeting this way was just so awkward.
“I’m glad to finally be here. And to make your acquaintance,” she said.
Her voice sounded weary, and as James continued to study her face, he noted the purple shadows under those beautiful eyes. Her journey had been a long one, he realized. But did her eyes reflect more than weariness? Sorrow, perhaps?
He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he collected her trunk. She was so beautiful; he could scarcely believe it. Of course, he had made up his mind that he would love his new bride, no matter what she looked like. Yet the Lord had chosen to bless him with a beauty of a wife. He smiled at her tenderly then offered his hand to help her into the wagon. For the first time, he found himself wishing he had a nice carriage. Still, she knew he was a farmer. Surely she hadn’t expected anything fancy.
He watched her gather her skirts to climb into the wagon. As she leaned into his grip to hoist herself up, her foot slipped. Instinctively, he caught her as she fell backward, catching a whiff of her perfume as well. He set her carefully on her feet, his heart pounding at her nearness. He wanted to hold her in his arms and never let her go.
She stammered out an apology, bending laboriously to retrieve her shawl from the dusty street. Straightening up, she met his shocked gaze. She was with child!
Dear God, what kind of cruel trick has this woman played on me? He gaped at her in silence. How could she?
Vulnerability briefly shimmered in her eyes before a glaze of weary resignation replaced it. “I suppose she didn’t tell you.”
“Who?” he croaked.
She raised her eyebrows.
“Who didn’
t tell me what?” He swallowed against the sudden dryness in his throat, trying to gather his thoughts and steel himself for whatever explanation she would offer.
“My … aunt … Caroline …” Her shoulders drooped and tears filled her eyes, threatening to spill over.
James reached out to her instinctively, as he would to a forlorn child. He put his hand under her chin, marveling at how soft her skin was against the roughness of his own. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “Can you just explain …? I mean … I … don’t understand.”
She swallowed hard but didn’t pull away from his touch. “My aunt Caroline. She didn’t tell you that I was in the family way.” Her words formed a statement rather than a question.
Silence settled between them as James struggled to comprehend her words. Why had Caroline’s pregnant niece come, and not Caroline? Were they trying to trick him? If so, why? Was this all a big joke on him—the dumb farmer out in cow country? The heat began to rise in his face. How could he have been so idealistic—so hopefully stupid—to believe that he would finally have a wife?
He glanced back down at her, his mental tirade ceasing when he met the misery in her eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “She said she didn’t think you’d mind if I came in her place. She … I should have known she wouldn’t have told you. But I can still work. I’ll do anything you need me to do. I don’t know how to do anything on a farm, but I can cook and clean, and …”
Her words trailed off as he scrutinized her. He couldn’t believe someone so small could carry such a large child. He doubted she’d be doing much cooking and cleaning for quite a while. He shook his head in disbelief at this bewildering situation. “If you are not Miss Caroline, then I suppose I don’t even know your name.”
Bartered Bride Romance Collection Page 45
