Woman of Courage (Four Full length Historical Christian Romances in One Volume): Woman of Courage Series

by Cynthia Hickey

  “Yes, he does.” A weight lifted from her shoulders. Junior had made it through. Almost a grown man, but it was still difficult for Delly to let him go. “This is a beautiful piece of land.”

  “Thank you. We got down off those mountains, I planted my feet here and refused to move. Decided I wasn’t going to tempt fate anymore. Poor Hank didn’t have a choice but to settle here.” She motioned toward a pair of straw-seated rocking chairs on the porch. “Come sit a spell. We’ve done all right for ourselves. Got us a few head of cattle, the Indians don’t bother us much, and anything we plant in our garden thrives. Winters can be brutal sometimes, but I ain’t complaining. There’s plenty of wildlife to feed us if our smokehouse runs empty.”

  Delly settled in one of the chairs, set Alice on a blanket at her feet, and took Baby Sarah into her lap. “How long have you lived here?”

  “About five years.” The woman stared toward the horizon. “We’ve seen lots of folks move through here. Have a nice nest egg set aside because of it. By the time they reach us, folks are hungry for fresh beef.” She sighed. “I’ve raised two sons, and buried three. It’s been hard, but I wouldn’t head back east for anything. No, this is God’s land, plain and simple.”

  Delly’s gaze followed Nora’s. She’d love to settle close to the woman; have an older neighbor to show her the ropes. “How far away is my family’s land?”

  “You’ll hit the beginning of it in the morning. The homestead will take another half of a day. It’s real purty.” Nora patted her hand. “A slice of heaven. Less than half a day’s ride in the opposite direction is the town of Waterfall. Mr. Williams’s got a lot of land, but still decided to settle close to the edge of it. Guess the land is half yours. Close enough for civilization if you wanted.”

  They wouldn’t be isolated. Delly glanced around the wagon circle, thankful for the other emigrants. She’d have neighbors. Maybe even a church someday, and a school. Hope leaped in her chest.

  She turned to Nora with a smile. “I’d like some of that beef. Fresh vegetables, too, if you’ve got them. And some eggs. Our hens haven’t been laying.”

  “I’ve got all that, and your chickens will be all right once you get settled.” Nora rose. “Come on out to the smokehouse.” Delly called for Dorcas to come get the baby and keep an eye on the others, then followed the kind woman to the back of the house.

  When she’d finished, Delly headed back to the wagon with smoked beef, a basket full of fresh vegetables, and a skip in her step that’d been missing for months. Across the circle, someone tuned a fiddle, and an older gentleman who Delly assumed was Hank, blew a few notes on a harmonica. She paused for a moment and stared into the darkening sky.

  We did it, God. You brought us through, richer than I’d ever thought possible. She hugged the paper wrapped meat to her chest. Truly blessed. That’s what she was. She hadn’t lost a single family member. Instead, she’d gained two babies. Not to mention dear friends.

  She tossed vegetables and meat into the stew and wished she’d had time to sew a new dress. Nothing to do now. Her faded blue calico would have to suffice. When was the last time she’d felt pretty? She stirred their dinner. And she definitely wanted to look good for Zeke.

  Now that she’d admitted her feelings for Zeke to herself, how could she get him to propose again? She’d take getting hitched to him any way she could, business proposition or not. She barely limped anymore. Weight loss and hard work left her as thin as a rail, except for her growing stomach. Would he even find her desirable as a wife anymore?

  ###

  “I found him in the trees, dead of a snake bite,” Hank said, toeing the body with his boot. “He had this in his pocket.” He pulled out a sheet of paper. “Has your name on it. Says you sold him your land. ‘Cept I’m not believing it.”

  Zeke eyed the man lying beneath a juniper bush. “No, I didn’t sell. For most of our trip, another outlaw followed us and kept trying to steal the deed. I’m thinking this is the man who hired him. When he couldn’t get a hold of the land that way, he made his own deed.” Zeke shook his head at the sadness of the man’s greed. So close to the land he’d wanted to steal, now dead within a day’s ride. “If you’ll bury him, I’ll let my sister-in-law know the danger is past.”

  “Sure thing. See you later at the party.”

  Zeke washed up in the water trough behind Hank’s house and donned a clean shirt. He had plans for tonight, and they didn’t involve him looking like he’d ridden the trail all day. After slicking his hair back, he made his way to the bonfire the travelers had made.

  His heart stopped when Delly stepped into the firelight. She’d pinned her hair off her neck. Curly tendrils caressed her cheeks. Thank God, they’d be home soon. He planned on proposing again. Tonight. This time for love.

  She approached him with a shy smile. “Good evening, Zeke.”

  “You look beautiful.”

  She blushed and lowered her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll tell you every day for the rest of our lives if you want me to.”

  “What are you saying?”

  His neck heated and his heart beat erratically. “I want to marry you. I want to raise that passel of children. Not as a business proposition this time, or out of a sense of duty, but because I can’t imagine a life without you by my side.” He grasped her hands. “What do you say, Delly? Will you be my bride?”

  She leaned her forehead on his chest. “I can’t believe this trip is almost over. So many times I thought I’d never make it.”

  Was she going to say no? His mouth filled with cotton.

  “You’re tougher then you think you are.” He tightened his arms around her. Surprise that he could love another human being with such intensity shocked him. He’d always known he’d lay his life down for another, but this woman would, and had, caused him to take the life of someone who wanted to cause her harm. The knowledge left him short of breath.

  This wasn’t a responsibility of only a few months. This was for a lifetime. Til death do they part. He planted a kiss on top of her head, inhaling the scent of her. “I’m proud to have you beside me, building a home, raising a family. It’s the second greatest gift God could give me. If you’ll say yes.”

  Tears shimmered in her eyes as she glanced up. “I didn’t expect to marry on the trail. So many times I wanted to turn back. When Alice died, when Abby got the cholera. I’m so glad I didn’t.”

  “You and me both. You are truly the most Delicious thing I’ve had the privilege to know.” He pulled her head to nestle in the crook of his neck as they swayed to the music, oblivious to anyone around them. Her skin rippled beneath his touch. He smiled to know he affected her the same way she did him. “Tell me you want to marry me as much as I do you. I love you, Delicious Williams.”

  “Yes, Ezekial Williams. I’ll marry you. Where’s the preacher?”

  ###

  After a brief ride to Waterfall, Delly stared into a small clearing as a married woman. Smoke rose from the rock chimney of a cabin. Her heart calmed at the homey scene. Two homesteads in as many days. The rigors of the trail continued to fall away with each sign of civilization.

  This cabin was different than the Lambert’s. Smaller, pigs rooting under the porch instead of a pen, and no porch graced the front. Would her new home be as humble?

  She sighed. “I wish Alice was alive to see the end. She was so reluctant to come in the first place. Who’s cabin is this?”

  Zeke turned to her with a grin. He held out his hand and helped her down. “My uncle Rupert’s.”

  She glanced questioningly up at him as he led her past Junior and the others.

  “Hey, Ma!” Junior waved a cigar in her direction.

  Delly clasped a hand to her throat. Not smoking! She’d just cured him of gambling.

  Zeke laughed. “I’ll talk to him. The way he’s coughing, I don’t think it’s a habit he’ll take up. He’s done the work of a grown man on this journey. Let him reap the benefits. He’l
l suffer enough later today.”

  A short, wiry man marched around the corner. A smile split his bearded face.

  “Zeke, my boy.” He held out his arms. “Been wondering when I’d see your ugly face again. Who’s the pretty girl?”

  “Rupert, this is my wife. I assume you’ve met her son, Ezra Junior. That passel of children are my nieces and nephews. Delly was my brother’s wife. We’ve got an adopted daughter, Alice, born on the trail, and those are our good friends, Luke and Sadie. Luke’s one of the best farriers you’ll ever meet.”

  Rupert clapped Zeke on the shoulder. “You’ve been busy. And this area could use a good blacksmith.”

  “How’s the ranch?” Zeke moved his arm around Delly’s shoulders.

  She craned her neck to stare at him. Ranch?

  “Better than fair to middlin’. I got in those turnips and potatoes you wanted, and that upper meadow is waist high with feed. I didn’t have time to start cutting timber for a larger cabin, ‘cause I had my own crops to get in, but with the three of us, we’ll get one up in no time.”

  “You did fine. I’ve lots of help with me, and I appreciate what you did get done. I thought I’d be going without a garden this winter.”

  “Nope. All you got to do is harvest it. It’s time.”

  Delly’s head spun. A ready garden? An upper meadow? Who was this man she’d married? She fingered the tattered britches she wore and remembered the dead woman’s clothes she and Sadie had salvaged. She should’ve kept on the dress she’d worn when they’d wed in Waterfall. “Are we rich?”

  He tossed back his head and laughed, then lifted her and spun around. “Not yet, Darlin’, but I plan on being someday. I told you not to worry about money at the trading posts. We’ve got hard work ahead of us, but money shouldn’t be an issue. There’s not many places to spend it around here.” He set her back on her feet. His gaze bore into hers. “I wanted to surprise you, Delly. This here is our land. Over that rise is the prettiest valley you’ll ever lay eyes on. Want to see it?”

  She smiled and nodded. “More than anything.”

  He led her to Cyclone and mounted, lifting her to sit sideways in front of him. With a kick to his horse’s flanks, they leaped away from the others and raced over the hill. With their speed, Delly tossed thanksgiving praises to heaven. They’d done it. They’d arrived, and except for a few scars, unharmed.

  When they stopped, she gazed on an emerald valley covered with wildflowers in every hue of the rainbow. A clear stream meandered across the meadow. A small cabin nestled beneath tall cedars and pine. Horses grazed from a split-rail corral. Off in the distance, she could make out the shapes of several head of cattle. Overhead, a hawk soared, then swooped to capture a field mouse in its claws.

  Tears coursed their way down her cheeks. “This is the best birthday present ever.”

  “You didn’t tell me it was your birthday.” He turned her to face him and wiped her tears with his thumbs. “I want only the best for you. We’ve the beginning of a grand life here. You can see where the garden is. Next year you can plant those seeds you carried in that gourd.” He pointed to their right. “Over there is the field for feed. We’ve got chickens, two dogs, a cat, mules, a trained Indian pony, two that are as wild as the wilderness, oxen, and a milk cow. There’s a handful of mustangs and fifty head of cattle. I’m saving to buy more horses. I’d like nothing more than to have a horse breeding ranch. Cattle too.”

  “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather share this with.” He crushed Delly close and captured her lips in a kiss. Her heart soared with the snowy clouds scattered across the scarlet and lavender sky. She’d found her love and he’d been worth the wait.

  The End

  RUTH’S REDEMPTION

  Woman of Courage, Book 2

  By Cynthia Hickey

  Prologue

  Tupelo, Mississippi, April 1865

  Screams ripped through the air.

  Ruth Stallings whirled away from the edge of a cliff, one hand around her pa’s musket. Shots, from the direction of her home, popped like pine resin in a campfire. The other clutched two rabbits meant for supper.

  Black smoke snaked above the trees and mingled with the clouds. Her heart constricted, and she stampeded toward home. As she splashed down the bank of Little Creek, the hem of her homespun dress soaked up the water and tugged at her. She slipped the gun’s strap around her neck to free her hands, tossed the rabbits into the brush, and hiked up her petticoats.

  Her heart raced faster than her pounding feet. They hadn’t heard gunfire around the farm for several weeks. And she had the only gun left to them by dirty rotten thieves. Those evil men who took everything of value. Her family’s silver, fine paintings, even Ruth’s and her sister’s Sunday best. If bushwhackers returned, what would her father defend the family with? She shouldn’t have listened to him when he said he needed to work the field and she would hunt.

  Breathless, her chest heaved with the effort to draw in air. Ruth sagged to the ground at the edge of the clearing. Her childhood home burned; flames licked the twilight sky. Her parent’s bodies lay, hands outstretched, touching even in their final moments. Where was grandmother? Ruth’s sisters?

  Heat seared her face. Ash coated her skin.

  With a moan that ripped apart her soul, she crawled to her parents’ bodies. “Ma? Pa?” Ruth rolled her ma over. A crimson stain spanned the front of her ma’s normally spotless apron. A single shot between Pa’s eyes told his fate. Sobs tore at her insides. Ruth lurched away and lost the meager dinner she ate an hour before. Ruth struggled to her feet.

  She should never have gone hunting. She was strong. She could pull the plow as well as Pa. Better, since Pa lost his arm in the war. Then Pa would’ve had his gun. Could’ve maybe defended the family. No, not with his war wound. Oh, please, God, let the rest of them be all right. “Grandma! Deborah! Sarah!”

  “We’re here.” Her sisters and Grandma darted from behind the burning house.

  Grandma waved as tears cut through the layer of dirt on her face. “We hid in the old root cellar.”

  Sarah, the youngest, threw herself across their parents. Her wail, like a wounded animal, rose over the roar of the fire.

  “Bushwhackers,” Grandma wheezed. “Surprised us. As soon as we saw them, I shoved the girls into the only hiding place I could think of.” Tears poured down her cheeks. “They took all our money. You know there wasn’t much, but it’s all we’ve got left. Your pa tried to stop them.”

  Ruth wrapped her arms around her, their tears mingling, then pulled away and grabbed the weeping woman by the shoulders. “Grandma, did you see which way they went? How many were there?”

  “Three. Wearing bits and pieces from both sides of the war.” Grandma stepped back and eyed Ruth, her eyes full of suspicion. “You can’t be considering going after them. It’s just money, Ruth.”

  “They killed Ma and Pa.” Ruth clenched her fists. Her and her sisters were now destitute. Their home gone. She couldn’t stand and do nothing.

  “You’re just a girl, Ruth.” Grandma grabbed her hands. “These are dangerous men. They’ll shoot you as soon as look at you!”

  “I’m a grown woman.” Ruth tore her gaze away from her parents and tried to focus her blurry vision on her grandmother’s face. “I have to do this. I have to try. They’ve taken everything.”

  “Not everything.” Tears soaked the ribbon of the bonnet tied beneath Grandma’s chin. “We’re alive.” She shook Ruth’s arms. “Your parents wouldn’t let you do this. It’s a fool’s mission. Don’t let their death be in vain.”

  “You won’t change my mind.” Ruth stiffened at the mention of Ma and Pa. “Doesn’t God promise to look after the foolish?”

  Grandma nodded. “I’ll pray He does.” She wiped her face with her apron and pointed west. “That way.”

  Ruth dashed across the yard and wiped the tears from her eyes. No time to grieve. She needed retribution. To get back what was left of their liveliho
od. Stupid or not, she must achieve something from the devastation of the day. If she stopped long enough to think, she might change her mind.

  She’d roamed these woods since her childhood. She knew them like the back of her hand. Chances were, the men would camp in the small clearing by the creek. They wouldn’t have to waste time removing the brush. Branches ripped at her hair and tugged at her clothes as she followed their tracks through the dense foliage. They didn’t seem concerned with hiding the evidence of their passing. Their arrogance fueled her anger. She followed their trail for a mile then squinted through the growing dusk. A light flickered a few yards ahead. Campfire?

  Careful where she placed her feet, she approached the sound of men’s voices raised in laughter. She slowly parted a juniper bush and counted two men. Where was the third?

  “What do we have here?”

  Her breath caught and she dropped the gun into the thick underbrush.

  “You must be the purtiest spy I’ve ever laid eyes on.” The man, a few years older than a boy, really, latched onto her arm with a vice-like grip and dragged her toward the others. “Look what I found.” He shoved Ruth into the dirt.

  A heavily bearded man scowled. “We don’t need her. Let her go.”

  Her captor laughed. “Come on, Bert. After I have a little fun.”

  A third man tossed a bottle in the fire. “Make it fast, Leroy. You’ve held the money long enough. It’s my turn.”

  “Sure thing.” Leroy glanced at Ruth, then slid a pistol from his waistband and pointed it at her chest. “Stay.” He pulled a whiskey bottle out of a saddlebag and took a long swig. His unsteady gun hand tipped to her face.

  Ruth’s legs trembled. What had she gotten herself into? Leroy’s shirt pulled free of his stained trousers. Her eyes grew round as she caught sight of the wad of bills her father worked hard to save. How had these renegades found the cash? How much damage had they done to the house before torching it? What would they have done to her sisters if they were discovered? Ruth thanked God for the root cellar set away from the house.