This Side of Forever
(Book Five of the Brides of the West Series)
By Rita Hestand
copyright© 2015 by Rita Hestand
All Rights Reserved
ISBN# 978-1311167095
Cover by Sheri McGathy
Smashwords Edition
Licensed Note
This book (This Side of Forever) is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. Please purchase an additional copy for each person you share with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it. For it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
Books in this Series
Heart of a Family
Delivering the Bride
Heart of a Woman
Wanted Bride
This Side of Forever
Shotgun Bride
A Love As Big As Texas
Be Free My Heart
Wherever My Heart Roams
In the Arms of an Angel
Table of Contents
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
About the Author
Rita's Other Books
Cross Corners, Texas
Part of the vast Trans Pecos
Late 1868
Chapter One
"I don't believe it! Clay Reno, I thought he was dead." The old timer moved his checker one space as he looked up. "Lookie there." He shook his finger at the stranger who rode into town. "The war didn't get him, even George didn't get him like he said."
The other old timer glanced at the man who was dismounting his horse across the street. "Whoever told you he was dead?"
"George Talbot, that's who. Said he killed him in a gunfight in the streets of Waco. Right after he shot Martin Clark's horse out from under him." The old timer scratched his head.
"Well, he looks alive to me!" The other man said.
"He ain't got much to come home to here. Kinda sad, don't you think? That's what happens to southerners that turn on their own people. He's got a lot of gall comin' back here."
"Maybe…but the war is over Harvey. He won…And despite it all, this is home."
Harvey looked up at Clay and his brows smoothed out his frown. "I guess you're right. Still, it goes against the grain, if you know what I mean?"
"I'm just glad it's over. A lot of them won't come home, you know."
Clay went into the general store and waited for someone to wait on him. It had been re-arranged, but it looked the same to Clay. Wagon wheels hung on the walls, saddles lined one lower wall, clothes, bedding for travelers, and a lot of camping gear, along with a small assortment of guns, and staple foods like beans, corn meal, flour, and coffee beans. The familiar smells of coffee freshly ground, and saddle leather sitting idle enveloped him. A missing sign from the wall left a white square where it had been. Pickle barrels full of dried beans and fresh produce surrounded part of the counter.
It had a homey atmosphere and did a fair amount of business.
He went outside to clap the dust from his clothes, and removed his hat, displaying a headful of golden hair that curled around his ears. He looked around in the quiet town that he used to call home. It hadn't changed a lot, except for one detail. George Talbot owned almost every business in town. That had changed, drastically. It seemed the Talbot's name was everywhere in Cross Corners.
Going back inside he glanced around at the back door. He turned to look out the window.
"Can I help you?" The woman said as she came through the back door of the store. She was dusting her apron, and looked up when he called her name softly.
"Amy? Amy Clark?" He stared at her, his eyes going over her softly with precision.
Tension rocked the space between them.
The air stood still, time no longer moved forward.
His glance devoured her. A light whiff of her perfume wafted through the air, assailing his senses, and he closed his eyes to breathe it in.
She still had that lovely reddish-blonde hair that hung in ringlets down her back. Those soft brown eyes of hers could melt the snow off the tops of the mountain. She was the most beautiful woman he knew. For a moment he just wanted to stand there and take her.
"Clay?" Her mouth fell open and she came slowly around the counter. Her eyes widened with what looked like disbelief. "I don't believe it!" She suddenly lunged herself into his waiting arms.
Hot tears ran down her cheeks, and a sob broke from her as his hand reached to caress her cheek, his eyes boring into her with a sensuous light.
When his arms came around her and his head bent to touch his lips to hers, he heard the thundering of her heart. The kiss was a sweet surrender, drugging him as delicious sensations eased up his spine. He kissed her as though he had every right to, when he felt her melt against him. He heard a slight sigh from her lips. "My God," he raised his head to look into her soulful eyes. "I've missed you."
His lips made a fast fiery trail down her throat, to the pulse point of her beating heart. She was lost in his kisses.
When good sense prevailed, she pulled away, almost reluctantly.
A new tension stretched between them.
Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears.
She immediately backed into the counter. "We heard you were dead." Her voice wasn't steady. It was the only outward sign that his kisses affected her.
"Not hardly. Who told you that?"
"George!" She answered then turned away as though she were ashamed of something.
"He tried, but he didn't get the job done." Clay said his voice raspy. "How are you Amy? You look just as I pictured you would. You're still as beautiful as ever."
"You're gone so many years, without a word and then you waltz in here asking me how I am?" She turned to look at him again. "It's like seeing a ghost. I buried you a hundred times in my dreams. Each time more painful than the first."
Taken aback, his smile turned grim.
Clay moved around the store, an unease growing, festering inside him. The look on her face was not one of a blushing fiancée. "Apparently things have changed around here. At least the names have."
She stared at him a long time, and then she moved back behind the counter. She needed something to separate her from him. Unable to face him any longer, she stared at the counter as though it might strike her.
"I want you to know something, Clay. I don't want you hearing it from someone else. George and I are engaged." She murmured in an almost whisper as her eyes widened and she stared at him with some strange empathy.
Clay felt his heart nearly crack in to, as though split open with a knife and left to bleed him dry. It couldn't have pierced him more if it had an actual blad
e to it. However, he couldn't let her see it. Instead, his shoulders bunched and his jaw hardened. He tried to smile, but he just couldn't quite manage it. His lips twitched.
"You? And George?" He turned away unable to grasp it at first.
"Yes. You must understand." She pleaded. "He told me you were dead. He said when my father went after you that day, you do remember the day you came back to tell me you'd enlisted in the union army? You'd served two years before you even bothered to tell me." Her indignant glance was a façade.
"Yeah, I remember it well. I had a leave, the only one during the war. You were the only one in town that took that news well. I appreciated that. I knew it would be a blow. I guess I was a little shocked you didn't hate me for it. I remember when I first looked at you; you were wearing a red gingham dress, your hair pulled back, like now. Your eyes were shining, and tears were about to fall. You were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, especially that day." He saw the guilt back in her eyes now, and he didn't want to see that. She was still the most beautiful woman he'd known. She had a right not to wait…
"I could never hate you Clay. Even if you'd killed my Pa, I couldn't hate you. I was crazy in love with you then." She said, her voice quivering. "He told us you tried to kill Dad. He believed you were trying to kill my father. He said he shot and killed you, to protect him. I believed him after a while when I didn't hear from you."
"How long a while did you wait?" He asked, gritting his teeth and waiting for her answer.
"We just became engaged two months ago." She barely uttered.
"I see. Well…that's just fine, that was a long time to wait, Amy. My congratulations." He said matter-of-factly. "Best of luck to you." He moved away, distancing himself.
"Fine?" She tried to look unconcerned, but her eyes kept drifting back to him, pulling his attention to her. "Where have you been? Why didn't you let me know you were alive?" Her voice nearly broke a time or two, and he saw a tear in the corner of one eye. He quickly realized it was probably because she felt defensive of her engagement.
"I was laid up a while. George did manage to shoot me, Amy. In the leg. I was a little busy nursing that leg. It took a long time before I could walk…"
She gasped and glanced at his leg. Nevertheless, as her eyes traveled up from his leg, she looked as though she were hungry for the sight of him. Their eyes locked for a moment on each other. Time seemed to stand still once more.
After an awkward silence, he found his voice.
"Look, I came back to check on things at the old ranch. Billy's supposed to meet me there. We'll probably sell the old place now, unless Billy wants to stay and work it." He explained. "Well, I better be going…nice seeing you, Amy." He swallowed the hurt silently.
"Clay?" She called, and turned bright red when he turned to look at her again. "I-I'm glad you're home."
"Thanks. Be seeing you." He put his hat on and walked out. He walked away from her, and it was the longest walk of his life.
The tension in his shoulders had bunched so hard he could hardly stand up straight, but he ignored the pain and straightened himself. Amy was engaged to another man, George Talbot of all men. He'd have never believed it, but he heard it straight from her. That closed the book on this town for him. He had nothing but Billy left now.
However, somewhere in the darkest corner of his mind, and his heart, a small candle glowed with…hope! That hope was based only on the kiss they'd just shared.
He shouldn't have expected her to wait. She had every reason not to.
He'd been living on her memory for a long while. During the war, he'd carried her picture and a lock of her hair. It kept him alive and full of hope.
One of the things he acquired while in the service was religion and he believed that God set things right in his own time. If Amy and he were to be together, it would happen somehow, naturally, not forced, or by accident. If not, he'd learn to cope, just as he had coped with his leg all this time.
But why had she let him kiss her? Why had she flown into his arms, before thinking? Why had he seen a vague sadness in her expression? And why oh why did she respond to his kiss.
That didn't figure.
The last thing he wanted was to upset her. With a heavy heart, he got on his horse and rode out of town toward the old home place.
No one hollered a hello. No one spoke to him, but he was surprised when the two men playing checkers waved to him. He nodded. He remembered them. Ben and Harvey, older men who played checkers regularly, that hadn't changed.
He saw their faces, not welcoming just mannerly.
The heartbreak of the last few years caught up with him today. He'd lost his father, who'd died from his heavy drinking. He'd lost two brothers in the war. Now…he'd lost Amy. Billy was the only thing that was left in this God-forsaken town. He should leave, and never look back, but first there was Billy. Billy meant a lot to him.
Cross Corners ceased to be a town long ago. Nothing had changed that. It had at one time earned the title of its name, but today it looked all sewed up, by one man. George Talbot.
A few miles out of town he ran into prickly pears, lots of couch grass, gramma grass and tobosa grass, dotted the landscape. It was good cattle grazing country, Clay noted mentally. A few, out of place Mesquite trees dotted the far horizons along the creek beds. Wood and water were sparse. A person could ride for miles before coming upon a creek bed in mid-summer. Most of the creeks dried up in summer. Drought could be an enemy here, and Clay knew that too.
Suddenly a black-tailed jack rabbit jumped in front of his horse nearly scaring the horse into a run. Prairie dogs holes were frequent and Clay rode slowly so as not to endanger his horse, Scrubs.
The horse had been with him through the war, and his Captain told him to keep him, said he couldn't walk home with that leg.
Despite a lot of hazards in the country, Clay was fond of this area. This is where he grew up. It was familiar territory. Armadillos, porcupines, were prevalent and always seemed to entertain him. He'd stop riding and watch as a mother carried her baby armadillos across a patch of desert, or when a baby black bear would come across a porcupine, it was downright funny.
Of course, other animals were nuisance, like coyotes, and wolves that bothered the livestock and snakes were prevalent too, especially in the summer. However, Clay was one with nature and he usually knew how to deal with the animals around him.
Water was the biggest problem out here and sometimes people had to rely on things like 'witching sticks' to find water. If a well wasn't deep enough, it would surely dry up. However, knowing all these hazards made it easier to plan for it.
It was odd that he was thinking so hard about his survival here, but this was home and he couldn't imagine living anywhere else on earth. Still, he was prepared to move away if that's what Billy wanted.
When he rode out to the ranch, he was in for another shock. The place looked barren and forlorn. The entrance was nothing but two poles standing up high on either side of the entrance. There was no welcome, no sign to name the place. The door creaked on half hung hinges. The porch was slanting down to the ground. The windows looked shot out.
This was no longer a home. It was a shell of a home now. Amy had put the last bullet in him today, the last vestige of hope for a home and family of his own. Still with all he'd suffered, he'd learned to accept the unexpected. He'd survived when others told him he wouldn't, he'd go on.
Because he wanted her happiness more than anything, he'd accept her engagement and get on with his life, somehow.
He dismounted and went to the porch. With a tired sigh, he sat down on the edge of the porch and looked out at the land that had been just as neglected as he felt.
The wind picked up, and dust flew. He'd forgotten the dust, but it played an important part out here. It also played a strange and eerie tune. The word lonely hit him in the gut.
Then he saw it and he grimaced. There was a grave and a makeshift headstone. It hadn't been there when he left. He walk
ed over to it, slowly.
It was his father's grave. From the stone, he read the dates. His father had died just a year ago.
He'd been too late for many things.
Clay looked at the grave that had been unattended just like the old house. "Well Pa. I'm home again. Sorry, I was too late. I guess Billy and me will settle and move on. Nothing left for us here."
"Speak for yourself!" Came a voice Clay would recognize anywhere.
"Billy?" Clay whirled around on his boot heels with a smile on his face. He grabbed his brother and hugged him. He was so choked up it took him a minute to be able to speak.
Billy let out some kind of sound and hung on to his brother like a lifeline.
"Hey, big brother….I was wondering how long it would take you to show up."
"Just rode into town this afternoon. When did you get here?" Clay grabbed his arm and shook his hand.
"Two days ago. I went to Tucson for a while."
"Tucson. Why?"
"Look around you, big brother. The place looked a might lonesome without you and Pa there to holler and rant about something. Plumb spooked me." Billy laughed. "Saw an ad in a paper that this big rancher in Tucson needed some reliable hands, so I rode out there. I'm mighty glad I did too. He gave me a job, taught me about ranching and well…there's this girl!"
Clay chuckled.
"It's good to see you. You look good, Billy. You've filled out into a man now."
"Time has a way of doing that. You been in yet?" Billy turned to look at the place.
"No…"
"Well, let's go check it out. A house ain't much of anything without people…"
"That's for sure. Kinda spooked me when I first rode up."
Clay smiled. He led the way to the house, as Billy turned to look at him. He stopped cold when he saw him limp.
Clay noticed and turned around. He frowned, he knew the questions were coming, and he wasn't sure how to answer.
"What happened?" Billy moved toward him, concern lacing his words.
This Side of Forever (Book Five of the Brides of the West Series) Page 1
