A Season of the Heart

by Dorothy Clark

  When Daniel realized he loved Ellen, he also realized they were on different levels socially and financially and that her parents would never approve of him as a suitor for Ellen when they were grown. What did he do?

  Ellen was a normal, happy young girl with friends she loved. What changed her?

  Daniel made a plan so he would be accepted by Ellen’s parents when they grew to a courting age. What changed his plan? Why did it change it?

  Why did Ellen’s parents forbid her to see her friends? Did they succeed in their purpose?

  Do you think you can “brainwash” a person to the degree that you change their very nature? Explain your opinion.

  When Ellen’s beaux came to Pinewood to ask for her hand in marriage, she suddenly saw them in a different light? Why? Was there more than one reason? Name them.

  Jesus said, “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.” Why did Jesus say that? Is being wealthy a sin? What is sinful about wealth?

  When Ellen returned to Pinewood, she slowly changed from the haughty fortune seeker her parents had raised her to be back to the person she truly was in her heart. What was the first thing that happened to her that instigated that change?

  Why was Daniel so adamant about keeping his feelings hidden from Ellen? Was his motive an admirable one? Do you agree or disagree with him?

  Why did Willa’s needing her have such a profound effect upon Ellen? Do you like to feel needed? Do you like to feel you have value in the eyes of others?

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Historical title.

  You find illumination in days gone by. Love Inspired Historical stories lift the spirit as heroines tackle the challenges of life in another era with hope, faith and a focus on family.

  Enjoy four new stories from Love Inspired Historical every month!

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  Chapter One

  Northeast Wyoming, early December 1900

  A wedding was supposed to be a joyful occasion.

  But Daisy Richards felt only emptiness as she watched her father and his bride, Audra, stand before the minister in the parlor of the family’s ranch house. Audra had her hair pulled back in a simple bun and wore a dark green dress; Papa wore his Sunday suit, and his auburn hair had been slicked back.

  They both looked fine and happy as they smiled secretive little smiles at each other.

  But Daisy was not fine.

  A draft coming in the window beside her ruffled the wisps of curls at her temples and cooled her burning cheeks. She hadn’t been around this many folks in months—not since before the accident. And she was as jumpy as a deer during hunting season.

  Her father had agreed to have the wedding here on the ranch, but only after a tearful conversation on Daisy’s part. It was a second marriage for both her father and his bride. Both of their spouses had passed away years before.

  If they’d had a town wedding as they’d initially planned, no doubt they would have had many more guests. As it was, Daisy felt overwhelmed by the small group crowded into the parlor. She could barely breathe.

  The ranch house had become her sanctuary. She hadn’t ventured outdoors in months, seen her friends or been to church.

  She was conscious of too many eyes on her. Audra’s twelve-year-old sons kept sneaking glances at her from their position standing on the opposite side of the room. She wanted to duck behind her younger sister, Belinda, at her right side but thought that might draw more attention.

  And behind her, back where Daisy couldn’t see them without turning her head, were Uncle Ned and the two hired cowboys.

  Two young men who had come to work for her father during the late summer. She had never met either of them, had only seen them from afar when looking out her second-story window.

  She felt them watching her, their curious gazes like hundreds of tiny needles pricking the back of her neck.

  Whether she imagined their curiosity or not, she still felt empty and conspicuous. Exposed.

  Daisy wished she hadn’t let Belinda pull her hair into the simple bun at the nape of her neck. If her red curls had been down, she might’ve been able to shield her face and the mottled pink she felt burning her cheeks.

  She could only hope that as she stood half hidden behind her sister, the young men couldn’t get a glimpse of the empty, pinned-up sleeve on her right side. The dress was slightly out of style. The calico material wasn’t really suitable for this winter wedding. And it didn’t fit quite right after the weight she’d lost during her recovery and those long summer days she’d spent grieving and found it hard to eat.

  Maybe the two men weren’t looking at Daisy. Maybe they were looking at Belinda. Daisy’s seventeen-year-old sister was beautiful. Her strawberry-blond hair was lighter than Daisy’s, and her blue eyes always danced with life. She was trim and petite and had been practicing her charms at every social event since she’d had her birthday earlier in the summer.

  Before the accident, Daisy would have been just like her sister—would have welcomed the attention from two cowboys. Worried about the fit and style of her dress.

  Been just that shallow.

  Now she just wanted to hide in her room until they all went away.

  Someone moved behind her with a rustle of clothing, the movement drawing her eyes over her shoulder. One of the cowboys. The man shifted his broad shoulders beneath his worn, pressed white shirt. His head turned slightly toward her, and she had a glimpse of unusual steel-gray eyes and dark blond curls that were wet, as if he’d just washed up.

  He’d been there, that night. He was one of the men who had pulled her out of the wreckage. Why had Papa hired him on?

  She lowered her eyes before their gazes connected.

  Had he seen the pinned-up sleeve on her right side?

  How humiliating.

  Her cheeks burned hotter. Her lungs constricted.

  Suddenly, she felt as if the walls closed in on her. As if she was pinned beneath the wagon again. Unable to move, to escape. Acrid smoke choked her.

  She couldn’t catch her breath.

  She must’ve made some noise of distress, because her father glanced over his shoulder, right at her.

  Meeting Papa’s eyes brought her fully back into the present. This was her father’s wedding day, not that terrible night. She was safe in her family’s home.

  She tried to summon a smile for him but couldn’t.

  It wasn’t that she begrudged her father happiness. Her mother had passed away when she was thirteen. Seven years ago now. It was high time her father married and found happiness again.

  It was more the knowledge that she could never be happy again.

  Her momentary lapse into memories had caused her to miss the vows. The small crowd clapped as her father kissed his new bride. She started to join in, hoping no one noticed her inattention and delay.

  And then realized all she could do was slap her thigh.

  No clapping for her.

  A rush of moisture filled her eyes, and she turned away, pretending to gaze out the window until she could steady her breathing and push away the tears.

  Her father was living his life, unafraid to remarry even though he’d lost his beloved first wife. Belinda was already caught up in socializing, and no doubt young men would come courting soon.

  It was Daisy who was stuck in the mire. Who couldn’t move on from the accident that had taken her arm and changed everything.


  Daisy ducked into the kitchen, praying for a reprieve, but everyone seemed to follow her. A sugary-sweet smell wafted into her consciousness.

  The cake. She’d forgotten that Audra had asked her to help serve.

  Frantic for escape, even if it meant she wouldn’t fulfill her promise to her new stepmother, Daisy glanced up to see if she could sneak through the parlor to the stairs in the hall.

  Belinda, oblivious, snagged Daisy’s good arm and tugged her behind the long preparation counter, where the cake had already been cut and plated. A punch bowl and several cups had been set out to complete the spread. She was thankful Belinda had been tasked with filling the cups.

  With the cake already cut, Daisy wasn’t needed. Not really.

  Belinda blocked her from passing behind the counter in the center of the large kitchen. She could go around the other way—

  She felt dizzy, overly hot. As if she might faint.

  “Did you see the new cowboy?” Belinda asked in a low voice.

  Her question drew Daisy out of the moment, out of herself enough that she could grip the counter with her good hand until her knuckles turned white.

  Did she really want to disappoint her stepmother? The woman who would be a fixture in their lives from now on?

  All Daisy had to do was shove each piece of cake across the counter to whoever came for them. She didn’t even have to speak.

  All she had to do was make it through the next few minutes, and then she could escape.

  The preacher’s approach kept Belinda from saying more, but Daisy supposed her silence wouldn’t last long. Her sister was more than interested in the opposite sex. Daisy might’ve been the same at Belinda’s age, but not anymore.

  “You look well, Miss Richards,” said the preacher.

  Daisy startled when her sister jabbed an elbow into her side. Oh. He had apparently been talking to her.

  No doubt she looked better than the last time he’d seen her. Her father had summoned him. They’d all thought she’d been on her deathbed until she’d finally fought through the infection that had set in to her arm. And she hadn’t been back to town since she’d been brought out here to the ranch to recuperate.

  “I hope we’ll see you in services soon.”

  She gave no answer.

  Her cheeks burned as she attempted to smile at the man. Several feet behind him, she glimpsed the blond-haired cowboy in conversation with Uncle Ned, her father’s right-hand man. Uncle Ned had been on the ranch for nearly as long as she’d been alive. The second cowboy had disappeared. Had he ducked outside instead of staying for cake?

  The younger man glanced away from Ned, his slate-gray eyes turning toward Daisy, but she averted her gaze again.

  The preacher shifted in front of her. Belinda helped cover the awkward silence by jumping in to talk about the upcoming Christmas program, and Audra approached with her elbows linked to her two towheaded terrors, twelve-year-old twins. Now Daisy’s stepbrothers.

  Before her convalescence, they’d followed her around like twin puppies, asking questions about the ranch and jostling and shoving each other whenever they could.

  Since the accident, they had seemed unnaturally focused on her missing arm on the few prior occasions she’d seen them.

  Daisy shoved three pieces of cake across the counter, the plates scraping loudly against the worn wood. She hoped they would take the cake and leave her alone.

  But of course they didn’t.

  “I’m glad you decided to join us downstairs today, dear,” Audra said.

  As if she’d been given any choice.

  She had overheard Audra and her father arguing several days ago. Audra insisted that Daisy was well enough to begin attending social events again. Her father had cited her improvement since the accident and wanted to give Daisy more time. Audra had accused him of coddling her.

  Daisy shivered just thinking about being seen in town, as she was now.

  Then yesterday, when she’d been considering whether she could feign an illness as she had done in her younger years to get out of going to school, her father had sat down with her after supper and told her how proud he was of her.

  Guilted her into coming to his wedding.

  Beneath her calico dress, her legs trembled with the desire to escape.

  One of the Twin Terrors nudged the other behind Audra’s back. Audra said something to Belinda, her attention flitting to the younger sister.

  And Daisy heard Terrance whisper, “Do you think it still hurts?”

  Her face flamed. The way both twins’ eyes were glued to her, he must be talking about her injury.

  Todd whispered right back, “Ask her.”

  She couldn’t do this. She tensed, all her muscles coiling in preparation to run away.

  But Audra turned back to the boys, who pushed large bites of cake into their mouths at the same moment, acting as if the whispered conversation hadn’t happened.

  A selfish part of Daisy wished Papa and Audra had cancelled their honeymoon trip. But they hadn’t. She wished for a quiet couple of weeks but didn’t hold out much hope. With the twins underfoot and everyone adjusting to the new family, there would be some inevitable growing pains.

  And once her father and Audra returned...no doubt her new stepmother would harangue her about leaving the ranch and attending social events that no longer held any appeal.

  Daisy would do well to escape the ranch, even though it had been her home for the entirety of her life.

  But where would she go when she barely had the gumption to come downstairs?

  She was trapped.

  Audra and the boys moved back into the parlor, leaving Daisy and Belinda alone, though they could probably still be heard through the open parlor door.

  “The new cowboy’s good-looking, isn’t he?” Belinda asked, as if the interim conversations hadn’t happened.

  “Shh,” Daisy hissed, half afraid he was still within hearing distance. She didn’t dare glance up to see. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  Her sister hummed a muffled laugh and twirled away to join their father, leaving Daisy alone with several slices of cake on plates and only her nerves for company.

  * * *

  Ricky White had never had trouble catching a woman’s eye.

  Before he’d reformed, most women couldn’t stop looking at him.

  Until Miss Daisy Richards.

  Her fire-bright red curls, tamed in a simple knot behind her head, were a harsh reminder of how everything he touched went up in flames.

  But God was behind him now, right? Surely Ricky couldn’t mess this up.

  Her dark yellow dress matched the autumn leaves on the aspens visible in the distance through the large parlor window.

  But her blue eyes skittered around like a cornered animal’s might, and that was the whole point, wasn’t it?

  He was responsible for what had happened to her. He’d been drunk that night in Pattonville, the small town a few miles from their ranch. He’d gotten into a fistfight in the saloon that had spilled out into the street and scared the horses harnessed to her wagon. It had overturned with her inside it, and when the attached lantern had smashed, the fuel spread and caught the wagon on fire. Daisy Richards had been trapped beneath it.

  She’d lost her arm because of him.

  And with God’s help, he was going to make it right. There was no changing the life he’d taken all those years ago, but this, he could make right. He had to.

  That night had been a wake-up call. He’d thought the choices he was making as he tried to forget his past mistakes only affected him.

  Until he’d been forced to see the truth. And it had saved his life.

  Behind that kitchen counter, she trembled like a frightened filly getting a glimpse of her
first halter. As if she was about to bolt.

  She needed to reclaim her life; he intended to find a way to help her do so. But first he had to speak to her.

  He meandered up to the counter, taking in the scent of hot coffee and the warmth emanating from the stove. Pots and utensils hung from hooks on one wall, and a washtub had been built into the counter in front of a large window overlooking the yard between house and barn.

  It reminded him of the home he’d left behind.

  But he couldn’t think about that now.

  He reached out for a piece of the cake, even though his stomach flip-flopped in protest. At the last second, he changed from his left hand to his right, realizing she would be able to see the scar on the back of his wrist. Not wanting anything to remind her of that night.

  “Howdy, miss.”

  She didn’t look directly at him, just nodded with her eyes on his third button.

  “I’m Ricky White. Started working for your pa a couple months ago.”

  She nodded again.

  He’d just seen her talking to her sister. Her voice box must work.

  Did she just not want to talk to him? Her shoulders were hunched up around her ears. Either she was shy, or she had taken an instant dislike to him.

  He’d never had to try so hard for a single word before. Before, he’d seen her around town, known she was someone who would never give a troublemaker like him a second glance.

  “It was a nice wedding,” he said, scrambling for something to say that might get her to look at him. “Friend of mine had an outdoor wedding a couple of years ago...”

  The memory of Sam and Emily’s wedding, and Maxwell and Hattie’s, several years back...cutting up with his brothers...his pa’s affirming hand on his shoulder...all of the memories were a whiplash of hurt that he quickly shook away.

  More color rose in her cheeks, but her lips pinched until they were white around the edges. She still didn’t say anything. Voices rose and fell in the parlor, but here in the kitchen, he could hear the crackle of the fire in the stove.