Tomorrow's Garden

by Amanda Cabot

  Start Reading --

  Praise for Paper Roses

  “Paper Roses is a delightful start to Amanda’s Texas Dreams series and will satisfy the longings of many readers.”

  Relz Reviews

  “Memorable characters and beautiful prose makes this an unforgettable work of Christian fiction.”

  Libraries Alive!

  Praise for Scattered Petals

  “Cabot weaves a powerful story of healing.”

  RT Book Reviews

  “Scattered Petals is an exceptional book!”

  Elaine Barbieri, New York Times bestselling author

  “I highly recommend this poignant novel.”

  Vickie McDonough, award-winning author,

  Texas Boardinghouse Brides series

  “Crafting characters rich with emotion, Amanda Cabot pens a compelling story of devastation and loss, of healing and second chances. But most of all, of transcending faith.”

  Tamera Alexander, bestselling author, From a Distance

  “Scattered Petals combines memorable imagery and likable characters in a story that illustrates both the redemptive power of forgiveness and the beauty of unselfish love in ways readers will not soon forget.”

  Stephanie Grace Whitson, author, A Claim of Her Own

  Praise for Tomorrow’s Garden

  “Amanda Cabot’s characters and storytelling create the extraordinary out of this Texas tale. I’m in love with her books.”

  Laurie Alice Eakes, author, Lady in the Mist

  © 2011 by Amanda Cabot

  Published by Revell

  a division of Baker Publishing Group

  P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287

  www.revellbooks.com

  E-book edition created 2011

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  ISBN 978-1-4412-1483-6

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  For Miranda Lynn Marzahn,

  the first of a new generation.

  May your life be filled with love.

  1

  August 1857

  “Trouble’s coming.”

  Harriet Kirk looked up from the crate of dishes she was packing. Though Jake’s words were ominous, her brother’s voice held a note of glee, as if he welcomed the visitor. What he probably welcomed was the break from carrying boxes and crates to the wagon. Even though it was only midmorning, the Texas sun was hot, a fact that Jake announced each time Harriet gave him a new load.

  “It’s the parson.” Mary scurried from the window and buried her face in Harriet’s skirts. Harriet’s eight-year-old sister wasn’t normally so shy, but visitors to the Kirk home were rare. “Why’s he here?”

  Why indeed? The Kirk children had lived in this small Texas town their whole lives, in this house for the past seven years. Not once in those seven years had the town’s minister paid a call on them, though there had certainly been events that would have warranted a visit from the clergy. But today, when they were less than twenty-four hours from leaving Fortune forever, he had decided to visit.

  “Good morning, Reverend Bruckner.” Reluctantly summoning the manners her grandmother had instilled in her, Harriet ushered the minister into the family’s tiny parlor and offered him one of the two chairs that held no boxes. The tall man whose dark hair was only lightly threaded with gray appeared uneasy, perhaps because of the chaos that surrounded him. Though she wished otherwise, the house looked as if a band of ruffians had ransacked it. There were no ruffians, of course, simply Harriet’s five sisters and brothers who, now that she was engaged in polite conversation with Reverend Bruckner, had fled the house and were, judging by their muffled shouts, attempting to load the wagon. Harriet tried not to sigh at the realization that she would have to rearrange the crates as soon as the minister left.

  “May I get you a cup of coffee?” she asked, hoping he would refuse. The sooner he left, the sooner she could get back to work. Harriet didn’t want to think about the scene unfolding in the front yard. Though Ruth would try her best to control the younger children, she was no match for the three boys. With Jake as ringleader, there was no telling what mischief they were wreaking.

  As if he’d read her thoughts, the minister shook his head. “I cannot stay long, but I would be remiss if I did not try to persuade you to remain in Fortune. The town needs you.”

  If it wouldn’t have been unspeakably rude, Harriet would have laughed. Though the town needed a schoolteacher, she was not the one they wanted. The residents had made that abundantly clear. She might be Miss Kirk of the Fortune Kirks, but once Jake’s shenanigans had become public knowledge, few parents trusted her ability to maintain discipline in the school.

  “I appreciate your concern, Reverend, but I’ve given my word.” Joyfully, gratefully, irrevocably. Mr. Ladre’s correspondence had been the one bright spot in an otherwise troubling spring.

  The minister leaned forward, pursing his lips as he was wont to do when he reached the end of his sermon. “I wish there were some way I could dissuade you. The truth is, my concern is not simply for the town. It distresses me to think you’re leaving because of my nephew. Perhaps if I had . . .”

  So that was why he had come. Thomas. Though she had no kind words for his nephew, Harriet couldn’t let Reverend Bruckner harbor guilt. “Thomas is not the reason we’re going to Ladreville. I was intrigued from the moment I saw Mr. Ladre’s advertisement for a schoolteacher.” And that had been posted weeks before Thomas Bruckner had made her an object of the town’s pity, telling everyone she was too hoity-toity for him to marry. “Did you know that Ladreville was founded by emigrants from Alsace? Most of them speak French and German with only a smattering of English.” She was talking quickly now, trying to avoid thinking of the reasons she had decided her family should leave Fortune and travel more than a hundred miles to the Hill Country. “Living there will give my brothers and sisters a real-life education they could never get from books.” That was true, but more importantly, they could start anew, for no one in Ladreville would know what had happened here.

  The minister inclined his head, as if accepting Harriet’s reasoning. “I’ve heard the Hill Country is beautiful. I must confess, though, that I worry about you traveling all that way alone. Texas is a big state, you know. Dangerous too.”

  She nodded. “We won’t be traveling alone. A family from Haven is going to San Antonio, and they’ve agreed to let us accompany them.”

  “That’s prudent.”

  Harriet was always prudent. Or at least she tried to be. “Mr. Ladre thought it would be a three-day journey on horseback. I’m allowing six because we’ll be pulling a wagon.” A wagon that even now was being loaded by her five enthusiastic but inexperienced siblings. She managed a bright smile. “Just think. By this time next week, my family will be in our new home.”

  Once again the minister’s expression sobered. “I pray you’re not making a mistake, leaving this home.”

  “I’m not.” Grandma always said that home is where your heart is. That was why Harriet knew Fortune was not her home and hadn’t been for a long time.

  “There must be a mistake.” Blood drained from the petite blonde’s face, and her eyes darkened with what appeared
to be horror.

  Lawrence Wood gritted his teeth. There was a mistake, all right, and he was the one who’d made it. He must have been plumb loco to have come to Ladreville. It was one thing to agree to be the town’s sheriff. No one could deny that the years he’d spent with the Texas Rangers qualified him to catch cattle rustlers and deal with petty crimes. But mayor? He’d had no way of knowing that mayoral duties included dealing with a woman who regarded a perfectly fine house as if it were a crumbling shack. She had seemed reasonable, if a bit brusque, when they’d met in his office, and she’d been almost cordial as they’d walked the two blocks to the house, her family trailing in their wagon. All that had changed when he pointed to the two-story house. What had she expected—a castle? There were none of those in Ladreville, Texas.

  Lawrence gritted his teeth again as he forced his tone to remain civil. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but this is the only vacant building in Ladreville. It must be the one Michel Ladre intended for you.” He should never have agreed to pick up the pieces when the town’s founder left with no warning. That had been a mistake, a definite mistake.

  The woman drew herself up to her full height, which couldn’t have been more than five feet, and gave the house another appraising glance. Surely he was imagining apprehension in her expression. “It’s unsuitable,” she announced in a voice that was surprisingly melodic even though laced with asperity. “I specifically told Mr. Ladre that I required stone or brick accommodations for my family.”

  If that stipulation had been in the correspondence she’d sent Michel Ladre, Lawrence hadn’t seen it. He’d read everything about the town’s new schoolmarm, including the fact that Michel had promised her a furnished home suitable for her and her five siblings. Unfortunately, it appeared that Miss Harriet Kirk’s definition of suitable differed from the previous mayor’s.

  Lawrence looked down the street, trying to marshal his annoyance. Michel Ladre had chosen well when he’d laid out the town that now bore his name. Though the buildings were only a dozen years old, the ancient trees gave them an air of permanence, making it easy to believe that Ladreville had been here far longer than a decade.

  “This house is stone,” he said as civilly as he could. He sure as shooting didn’t want to rile Miss Kirk, not when the town needed her so badly, but for the life of him, he couldn’t picture this woman in front of a classroom. Oh, it was true she looked as prim and proper as the teachers who had drummed learning into his head, with her silver blonde hair pulled back into a no-nonsense knot and spectacles perched in front of those gray eyes. The problem was, she was so tiny that her most difficult students would tower over her. How would she maintain discipline? If her pupils were as cantankerous as Lawrence and his classmates had been, she would have a tough row to hoe.

  “It is only part stone,” she said in a voice that brooked no disagreement. “The second story is timber.”

  Lawrence couldn’t dispute that. The building in question resembled many of the others in Ladreville and reflected the distinctly European architecture the town’s Alsatian emigrants preferred. When they’d left the Old Country, Ladreville’s French- and German-speaking residents had brought centuries of tradition with them. Though Lawrence deplored the enmity that occasionally divided the town, he admired the settlers’ fanciful house designs and their ability to farm even the rocky ground of the Hill Country. But, while he liked the half-timbered buildings and the ones like this that were a combination of stone and timber, it was clear that Miss Harriet Kirk did not.

  “Ma’am . . .”

  “Please do not address me as ma’am. I’ve already told you that my name is Harriet Kirk.”

  It wasn’t his imagination. The slight tremor in her voice told him she was distressed about something, and he would bet it wasn’t his form of address. What could have bothered her? Lawrence gentled his tone as he said, “And you know my name is Lawrence Wood, but that doesn’t change the situation. This is the sole place in town large enough for you and your siblings.”

  He looked at the wagon that held the five younger Kirks. Though their hair was golden, not silver, blond and their eyes blue rather than gray, they bore an unmistakable resemblance to Miss Kirk. Lawrence was no expert on children’s ages, but he guessed the three boys were between ten and sixteen, while the youngest girl couldn’t be more than seven or eight. She flashed him a sweet smile that turned his stomach inside out as he wondered if that was how Lizbeth would have looked at that age.

  Tamping back the unwelcome thought, Lawrence focused on the other occupants of the wagon. The older girl, who ducked her head rather than meet his gaze, appeared to be full grown, maybe seventeen or eighteen. Miss Kirk, he knew from her correspondence with Michel, was twenty-three. Lizbeth would have been older than that. Lawrence took a deep breath as he tried to ease the pain that had lingered far too long. The sooner he got the Kirk family settled, the better. Once they were out of sight, the memories would fade.

  He turned to the new schoolteacher. “If you don’t like this house, the only alternative would be to board some of the children with other families. Perhaps the boys—”

  “Absolutely not.” The flash in her eyes underscored Miss Kirk’s disapproval.

  “Then, ma’am, er, Miss Kirk,” Lawrence corrected himself quickly, “I’m afraid this is where you’ll be living. May I assist you in unloading the wagon?” Even though it was only midmorning, the day promised to be another scorcher. Lawrence glanced down the street. Klaus could leave the livery for a few minutes. If he enlisted his help, they’d make short work of getting the Kirks settled.

  Miss Kirk shook her head. The almost regal gesture appeared incongruous coming from a woman clothed in the ugliest dress Lawrence had ever seen. He gave the younger Kirks a quick glance. Their garb was unexceptional, but Miss Kirk’s could only be described as deplorable. It wasn’t simply that the mousy brown color failed to flatter her, but the design itself made her look dumpy. Lawrence’s sister Lottie would be horrified.

  Apparently oblivious to his assessment of her traveling suit, Miss Kirk shook her head. “No, thank you, Mr. Wood. My family and I can manage quite well.”

  He doubted that. Judging from the size of several of the crates in the back of the wagon, it would take more than three young boys to carry them. “If you say so.”

  “I do.” Her eyes sparkled, and for the first time Lawrence thought he saw amusement in them, although he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what she found amusing, any more than he could figure out what might have frightened her. “Are you an only child?”

  It was absurd to feel as if he’d been ambushed. Miss Kirk had no way of knowing that her question deepened the pain that the sight of her youngest sister had revived. “I have an older sister named Lottie,” he replied. That was the truth. If it wasn’t the whole truth, well . . . Miss Kirk had no reason to know that. “Why did you think I was an only child?”

  “Because if you were part of a family, you would recognize the power of sibling rivalry. You’d be amazed at how much my brothers and sisters can do. Size is not an indication of ability or strength.” The firmness in her voice left no doubt that she was a schoolmarm, accustomed to her word being law.

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  “Very well, then. I’ll return at half past four to escort you to the Bar C. Sarah and Clay Canfield have arranged a supper for you to meet their neighbors.” When she said nothing, Lawrence added, “Sarah was the town’s last teacher.”

  Miss Kirk nodded as if she knew that. “I’m sure we can find our way alone. After all, we came from Fortune without your assistance.”

  He ought to be glad to be rid of her. It was only foolish pride that made him resent her dismissal. “That may be true,” Lawrence admitted, “but Sarah was most particular that I escort you. My experience has been that Sarah Canfield is not a woman to cross.”

  “Neither am I, Mr. Wood. Neither am I.”

  “Oh, I can see that, Miss Kirk
.” He touched his fingers to his hat brim as he nodded in farewell. “Until later.”

  Lawrence spun on his heel and strode back toward his office, his long legs covering the distance in half the time it had taken to travel the opposite direction. Then he had tried to match his stride to Miss Kirk’s. There was no need for that now. What he needed was to put distance between himself and the town’s new teacher.

  What on earth was wrong with the woman? Surely there was no reason for her to be so prickly. Miss Harriet Kirk might be a good teacher, and for the sake of Ladreville’s children Lawrence hoped she was, but not even the most charitable person would describe her as friendly. Cold, aloof, possibly frightened. Those were the words he would have used, and the last surprised him.

  Though he would have expected her to be apprehensive over moving to a new town, it appeared that what concerned Miss Kirk was the house, and that was a puzzlement. For his part, Lawrence couldn’t imagine why anyone would object to the building. It was one of the largest and most attractive in Ladreville, situated on a quiet block of Rhinestrasse, only two blocks from the school. Miss Kirk didn’t seem to notice that. All she noticed was the partially wooden exterior. For some reason that was enough to condemn the house.

  Lawrence paused in front of the structure the town had designated as the mayor’s residence and office, the one that was now his home. Undoubtedly Miss Kirk would approve of it, for all three stories were constructed of stone. Although he’d been aware of that, Lawrence had placed no significance on the building material, nor had he cared that it was considerably larger than he needed.

  It was true that he hadn’t been pleased with the house’s proximity to the river. Though others, including Clay Canfield, who had pointed to it with pride, claimed the Medina was one of the most beautiful rivers in Texas, to Lawrence it was nothing more than water, and water was dangerous. Admittedly, after spending more nights than not sleeping under stars with a saddle for a pillow, anything that had four walls and a roof looked mighty good, but Lawrence would have been happier—a whole lot happier—if those four walls and roof had been located anywhere else. It wasn’t simply the Medina, either. The last place on earth Lawrence Wood wanted to be was Ladreville, Texas.