Relief swept over Steven. At least the man wasn’t dead. But where had he come from? The busy streets of Baker City were behind Steven, and the boardinghouse where his sister and mother lived was only a few blocks away on the outskirts of town. Had he been daydreaming and not noticed the man crossing the road?
He leaned over and touched the fellow’s arm. “Are you all right, sir?”
The fallen man mumbled before rolling to his side and pushing to a sitting position. He swiped a filthy hand across his cheek, flicking away a glob of mud and blinking his eyes. “Wha’ happened?”
Steven recoiled as the stench of alcohol hit him. Was he drunk? It was only midmorning. Surely no one started their day drinking enough to be intoxicated at this hour. He pulled his thoughts back where they belonged. It wasn’t his place to judge, especially after he almost ran over the fellow. “I’m not certain. I didn’t see you crossing the road in time to stop. Can you get up? Nothing’s broken, I hope?”
The man groped for his hat resting on a flat rock a short distance away. He slapped it against his hand, then jammed it onto his head, covering the ring of gray hair. “Don’t think anything’s broken. I don’t recall what happened. I need to get home and do my chores.”
Steven gripped his arm and hoisted him to his feet. “Let me give you a ride. Unless you have a wagon or horse nearby?”
“Don’t rightly remember if I do.” He gazed around with a bewildered stare and took an unsteady step. “Reckon I can walk.” Taking another stride, he staggered, his boot plopping into another section of mud, sending a spray of dirty water only inches from Steven’s clean trouser leg.
Steven sprang forward and caught the man with one hand before he pitched onto his face. With his other hand, Steven took out his pocket watch and gave it a hurried glance. Two hours before he had to pick up his sister, Beth, and his mother for the ceremony. “Do you live far?”
The man shook off his grip. “’Bout a mile or less. My ranch is the closest one to town. Don’t need no charity from strangers, though.”
“I’m headed that direction, so it’s not charity. Please. It’s the least I can do.”
Bloodshot eyes met his. “Guess it won’t hurt nothin’ if you’re headed that way.”
Steven stayed close as the older man lumbered into the passenger side of the buggy. He’d have to scrub out the mud before taking the womenfolk to the church, but it couldn’t be helped. It was possible this individual was already lying in the mud when he came along. That would account for Steven not seeing him until he was almost on top of him. But it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t drive off and leave anyone needing help, whether his fault or not.
The ride to the ranch was silent, and Steven kept his gelding at a hard trot, intent on making the best time possible. He drew to a stop in front of a two-story white house sadly wanting paint and repair. Setting the brake, he leaped from the buggy and hurried to the other side, intent on keeping the man from falling as he disembarked. His gelding dropped his head and nibbled at a clump of soggy grass near the base of the hitching post. Steven came to a halt on the passenger side and lifted his hand to the man still sitting inside.
The front door of the house slammed nearby, but Steven kept his attention on the fellow climbing unsteadily to the ground.
The older man ignored Steven’s extended hand. “Don’t need no help, mister. I’m right as rain.” He grasped the handrail next to the seat and swung his legs over. Planting his boot on the step, he edged down, but as soon as his feet hit the ground, he lurched forward, almost into Steven’s arms. Steven grabbed the man’s arm and held him upright.
“Pa? What in the world?” The feminine voice was accompanied by a light patter of steps on the porch. “So I see you finally decided to come home and got another one of your cohorts to bring you.”
Steven loosened his hold on the man’s arm and pivoted, arrested by the undercurrent of anger tingeing the words. His heart jumped. A young woman who looked just a bit younger than he was stared at the man she’d called Pa. Her emerald-green gown matched her bewitching eyes, but the glow emanating from them certainly wasn’t warm or friendly. “I beg your pardon, miss, but I think you’ve misunderstood.”
The fiery redhead stood with her hands planted on trim hips, her green eyes shooting sparks. “I doubt it. You aren’t the first man to bring my father home in this”—she shot an irritated look at her parent—“condition.” She nearly spat the last word. “I appreciate the ride, but I’ll thank you next time not to buy him any more drinks when he’s had more than enough.”
Steven’s heart sank, and he took a step back. The last thing he wanted was to add more sorrow to this woman’s life, but he hated that she thought him responsible. But did it really matter? He wasn’t apt to see her again. He tipped his head. “Sorry for the trouble, ma’am. Now that he’s home and safe, I’ll be on my way.”
Leah gritted her teeth to keep back the words threatening to spew out as the handsome, dark-haired driver picked up the reins and clucked to his horse. This one was certainly younger and better mannered than her father’s other cronies who had delivered her inebriated parent to their door in the past. Anxiety struck her as she remembered the crisp white shirt beneath the suit jacket and the stiffly starched collar. What were the chances he’d come from a saloon dressed like that? She’d probably stuck her foot in her mouth again with her impetuous accusation. Someday she must learn to think before she allowed words to blurt out.
Swiveling, she glared at her father tottering up the path toward the porch. “What do you have to say for yourself, Pa? I’ve been worried sick, not to mention having to do most of the chores myself. Was that man who brought you home drinking with you at the saloon?”
“Who I drink with is my own business, not yours,” he tossed back. “I told that fella I didn’t need his help, and I’m tellin’ you too. If you already did the chores, I’m gettin’ a short nap.”
“Pa! We need to talk.”
He squinted red-rimmed eyes at her. “Done talkin’. I’m hungry, and I’m tired. Millie can fix me a sandwich; then I’m goin’ to bed for an hour or two. Nothin’ to talk about, anyhow.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Go on with you, and leave me alone.”
Leah moved closer, barely containing her frustration. “There is a lot to discuss, Pa. Starting with your drinking. It’s getting out of hand, and it needs to stop or you’ll put this ranch and everything we’ve worked for in danger.”
Pa reached for the newel post at the bottom of the short flight of steps leading to the porch, clamped his hand on top, then maneuvered himself onto the first step. “I won’t tolerate no daughter of mine preachin’ at me about my responsibility or my sins. And it’s my ranch, so I’ll do what I see fit with it. I’ve worked hard makin’ it what it is all these years. You got no call to tell me what to do.” He headed for the door. “Now leave me be whilst I get somethin’ to eat. My head hurts, and I don’t wanna hear anymore.”
Leah looked at the chair propped against the wall, wishing she could kick it again and allow some of her aggravation to escape. Better that than allowing the tears building behind her eyes to spill over.
Charlie Pape plunked into a kitchen chair and slid the plate holding his sandwich closer, happy Millie had fixed it and left. The last thing he needed was another well-meaning female trying to tell him what to do or insisting he change.
He picked up the sandwich and took a bite, working hard to hold onto his aggravation toward his daughter. The girl had no right to tell him what to do or how to live his life. It was his business if he drank, and nobody else’s. And she was dead wrong thinking she knew better than he did how to run this ranch. It had been his for years.
A thought pricked at his conscience, but he pushed it away. It was his ranch, and he intended to make sure it stayed that way.
Leah was a good girl and meant well. He couldn’t fault her there. But s
he was too much like her mother. Always trying to fix things to swing her own way and not taking into account what he might want. Leah wasn’t his child by birth, but he’d taught her all he knew and was plumb tickled that she seemed to love the ranch as much as her old pa. The girl had been raised here since Charlie married Leah’s ma when Leah was only a baby. He’d always figured he and Mary would live here until their sunset days, and then Leah and whatever man she married would take over for him. Not once had he considered the unthinkable might happen, leaving him alone with only his misery to keep him company.
Steven Harding paced the parlor at the Jacobs’s boardinghouse and took out his pocket watch for at least the tenth time since returning from dropping the stranger at his ranch. Ten minutes after two o’clock—only a minute since he’d last checked. He would have wagered a guess that much more time had passed. Did his sister want to be late to her own wedding?
Women’s voices mingled not far down the hall. Moments later Beth’s adopted aunt, Mrs. Wilma Roberts—or, rather, Marshall, since she’d recently remarried—and her friend, Mrs. Cooper, swept into the room, arms entwined and faces aglow. They came to an abrupt stop and stared, then both erupted in giggles.
He tugged at his tight collar and frowned. “What seems to be the problem, ladies? I can’t imagine what could be so amusing.”
Mrs. Cooper’s grin broadened. She shook her head, and a gray curl slipped loose from under the brim of her dark blue hat. “A stranger might assume you are the groom, if your distraught appearance is any indication. Are you terribly nervous about accompanying your sister down the aisle this afternoon?”
Mrs. Marshall patted his shoulder. “Why don’t you sit down, Steven? It won’t do any good wearing a path in the carpet. Beth will be down soon, and my Caleb will be back to pick up Frances and me.”
“I’m not nervous at all. I simply don’t understand what’s taking so long. We still have to drive to the church. Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs and their children left long ago, and I’m sure Jeffery has been there for hours.”
“Caleb drove my daughter and her family over early to ready the sanctuary for the wedding. And your mother is putting the finishing touches on Beth’s hair. Your sister is going to make a beautiful bride, and Jeffery is blessed to get her. I am quite certain she will be worth whatever amount of time he must wait.” Mrs. Cooper pointed at a chair. “Sit. You are making me nervous, pacing like some caged animal.”
“That’s exactly how I feel.” He sank into the seat indicated and ran his fingers over his closely cropped hair. He glanced at Beth’s aunt, a woman he’d only known for a few months but had come to respect. “How can you be so calm? You weren’t even anxious when you and Caleb married at Christmas. And why aren’t you upstairs helping? I’m sure Beth wants you there.”
Mrs. Marshall frowned. “I don’t know what you have to be so fretful over.” Her face softened. “Beth asked me to stay, but she should have this time with her mother. Isabelle has missed so much of Beth’s life these past years, which I was privileged to enjoy while raising her. I won’t rob your mother of an instant alone with her daughter on this special day. Besides, the ceremony doesn’t start for almost an hour, and the buggy will get us to the church in plenty of time.”
Steven nodded but didn’t reply. He was happy for his mother and sister but longed for this day to hurry to a close. Maybe once Beth was married to Jeffery Tucker, life would return to normal. Finding Beth again after a seventeen-year separation had been exhilarating, but he’d struggled to find his place in the family with the ensuing changes.
He’d been an only child since Beth was lost when he was eight years old, and while he rejoiced at their recent reunion, part of him longed for the time when Ma leaned solely on him for advice and support. Then, suddenly, he was ashamed at the direction his thoughts had taken. More than anything, he was lonely. Steven had thought his sister’s return would unite their family. It hadn’t happened that way. With Ma living at the boardinghouse to be near Beth, and him living in a mining shanty on the outskirts of town to be close to work, he didn’t have much time with either of them. But Ma was happier than he’d ever seen her, and he couldn’t begrudge her that. It was high time he moved on with his life. He’d better get used to being alone.
About the Author
Miralee and her husband, Allen, live on eleven acres in the beautiful Columbia River Gorge in southern Washington State, where they love to garden, play with their dogs, take walks, and go sailing. She is also able to combine two other passions—horseback riding and spending time with her grown children—since her married daughter lives nearby, and they often ride together on the wooded trails near their home.
Ironically, Miralee, now the author of eight books, with many more on the way, never had a burning desire to write—at least more than her own memoirs for her children. So she was shocked when God called her to start writing after she turned fifty. To Miralee, writing is a ministry that she hopes will impact hearts, and she anticipates how God will use each of her books to bless and change lives.
An avid reader, Miralee has a large collection of first edition Zane Grey books that she started collecting as a young teen. Her love for his storytelling ability inspired her desire to write fiction set in the Old West. “But I started writing historical fiction without even meaning to,” Miralee says, laughing. She’d always planned on writing contemporary women’s fiction, but God had other ideas. After signing her first contract for the novel Love Finds You in Last Chance, California, she decided to research the town and area. To her dismay, she discovered the town no longer existed and hadn’t since the 1960s. Though it had been a booming town in the late 1880s, it had pretty much died out in the 1930s. So her editor suggested switching to a historical version, and Miralee agreed, although she’d never even considered that era.
It didn’t take long to discover she had a natural flair for that time period, having read and watched so many Western stories while growing up. From that point on she was hooked. Her 1880s stories continue to grow in acclaim each year. Her novel Love Finds You in Sundance, Wyoming won the Will Rogers Medallion Award for Western Fiction, and Universal Studios requested a copy of her debut novel, The Other Daughter, for a potential family movie.
Aside from writing and her outdoor activities, Miralee has lived a varied life. She and her husband have been deeply involved in building two of their own homes over the years, as well as doing a full remodel on a one-hundred-year-old Craftsman-style home they owned and loved for four years. They also owned a sawmill at the time and were able to provide much of the interior wood products. Miralee has done everything from driving a forklift to stoking the huge, 120-year-old-boiler, from off-bearing lumber to running a small planer and stacking boards in the dry kiln.
Besides their horse friends, Miralee and her husband have owned cats, dogs (a six-pound, long-haired Chihuahua named Lacey was often curled up on her lap as she wrote this book), rabbits, and yes, even two cougars, Spunky and Sierra, rescued from breeders who didn’t have the ability or means to care for them properly.
Miralee and Allen have lived in Alaska and the San Juan Islands for just under a year each, where she became actively involved in women’s ministry. Later, she took a counseling course and earned her accreditation with the American Association of Christian Counselors, as well as being a licensed minister (not a pastor) through her denomination. She spends time each month in her office at church praying with and ministering to women, as well as occasionally speaking and filling the pulpit.
Miralee served as president of the Portland, Oregon, chapter of ACFW (American Christian Fiction Writers) for four years and now serves on the board in an advisory capacity. She belongs to a number of writers’ groups and also speaks at women’s groups, libraries, historical societies, and churches about her writing journey.
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Books by Miralee Ferrell
Love Blossoms in Oregon Series
Blowing on Dandelions
Wishing on Buttercups
Love Finds You Series
Love Finds You in Bridal Veil, Oregon
Love Finds You in Sundance, Wyoming
Love Finds You in Last Chance, California
Love Finds You in Tombstone, Arizona
The Other Daughter
Finding Jeena
Other Contributions/Compilations
A Cup of Comfort for Cat Lovers
Faith and Family: A Devotional Pathway for Families
When God Answers Your Prayers: Inspiring Stories of How God Comes through in the Nick of Time
Faith & Finances: In God We Trust, A Journey to Financial Dependence or the Biblical Keys to Financial Freedom
Fighting Fear: Winning the War at Home When Your Soldier Leaves for Battle
WISHING ON BUTTERCUPS
Published by David C Cook
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