by Leah Atwood
Chapter Fourteen
The pews behind her were full, but Candace tried not to think about everyone staring at her. Only one person mattered, and he stood at her side. Their journey to this place hadn’t been easy, but they’d surmounted every obstacle.
She glanced down at her hand, catching a glimpse of the ring Patrick had just placed there. It was a beautiful gold band with a ruby that matched her necklace. It was a wonderful surprise, but not nearly as grand as the surprise her husband turned out to be. He was so much more than she could have imagined that night they’d first met.
They turned around to face the members of the congregation. In the front row sat the Holden family, except Lucas and Benjamin. They sat in the second row back, one on each side of Uncle Roscoe. She wished she would have more time with her uncle, but she knew he wouldn’t be on this earth much longer. For the remainder of his time, he would be treated as the family he was.
Glen and Rosie Simpson sat in the third pew, next to the Fosters. Behind them, the McCades. It seemed most of Weatherton had shown up for her and Patrick’s wedding, whether to support and encourage or from curiosity, she would never know.
It didn’t matter to her. She had a family, those who’d become so by choice, and one uncle who was designated family by blood. Last evening, before he’d retired to his cabin, Patrick, and she had talked. They’d decided that next summer if time and money allowed, they would attempt a honeymoon to Nebraska so she could meet her Aunt Diana.
Patrick held her hand, and they turned to look at each other at the same time.
“I think eighteen ninety-four will be my favorite year yet,” he whispered in her ear.
She laughed, but before she could reply, Patrick kissed her, in the front of the church, for everyone to see. Everyone clapped, and no one disapproved.
At long last, she was unquestionably married and loved.
Epilogue
Ten Years Later
“Jack, grab your sister’s hand and come up here now.” Maeve stood on the porch with a hand on her hip.
Candace laughed at her sister-in-law, who had her hands full with her six children. Jack, the oldest at nine years of age, was a typical boy and into everything. Nary had a day passed that he didn’t bring home a frog or snake. Myra was their next child, a rambunctious seven-year-old girl who wanted nothing to do with dresses but followed everything her eldest brother did. The four-year-old twins, Michael and Dayton ran around in the dirt, their mother’s plight to keep them clean lost.
“I give up.” Maeve sighed, but then laughed. “At least Lilly and Rose show no signs of liking dirt yet.”
“But they’re only two and three. There’s still time.” Candace winked. “Where are they?”
“In the house. If I let them out, one of the boys would surely have them covered in dirt.” Maeve looked at Candace’s distended belly. “And I wouldn’t laugh yet. Just because Isabella and Mallory shriek at the mention of dirt, Ike is all boy, and you never know what this next one will be.”
Rubbing her stomach, Candace laughed. “It will keep life interesting.”
Liza waddling to them, also with child. “I, for one, have all the interesting I can handle. Did Ma tell you Bobby got into the bull’s pen yesterday? I was so scared, I thought I’d go into labor.”
Candace gasped. “How did that happen?”
All the children knew the rule about staying away from the pens, but a few of the children were rule-breakers, including her own Ike.
“He thought the bull looked lonely.” Liza sighed. “I’m just glad Patrick happened along when he did.”
“Did I hear my name?” Patrick came up behind Candace and gave her cheek a kiss.
“You didn’t tell me about rescuing Bobby.” She looped her arm through his. Ten years of marriage and she never tired of being near her husband.
“I didn’t see the point because he was fine and you would have worried about Ike.”
“I do worry. You know he struggles to obey.” Her son had a big heart but had inherited her husband’s wild nature.
“He’ll be fine—he is young yet. If it makes you feel better, I had a talk with him and the other boys yesterday evening, reinforcing the rules.”
“Thank you.” She gave Patrick a smile, glad that he was patient with all the children.
And there were many of them. Ma Holden had nineteen grandchildren, all of who lived on the ranch. Plus, there were three more babies on the way.
“Places, everyone.” George Talbot, a photographer for a New York paper, waved his arms.
The Holden family was being featured in a story that would run next month about family legacies that thrived despite ever-mounting obstacles. Somehow, the newspaper had been given the Holden’s information and chose them as one of the families.
Obstacles, they’d seen their share of—fire, death, storms, and herd loss, just to list a few. But the Holdens didn’t stay down. They joined as a family and fought back until the ranch had become one of the largest in the state. Through grit, determination and a lot of faith, they’d succeeded and beat the odds.
Maeve went into the house and brought out her second set of twins, the two-year-old girls. Widowed Lucas struggled to get his children situated until Benjamin’s wife stepped in to help. It took thirty minutes, but soon the entire family was lined up in front of their home that was now a sprawling estate which housed Ma, Sam’s family, and her and Patrick’s family. The other children had homes built nearby on the property, except for Jeanette, who spent most of her time in Boston at finishing school but was home on summer break.
As the family Matriarch, Ma Holden stood in the center of the line. To her immediate right were Sam, Maeve, and their six children. Next to them, Lucas with his infant son and toddler daughter. In the end, Benjamin, his wife, and their three children. To Ma’s left, Candace stood with Patrick and their three children. Liza and her husband stood beside them, with their five children and then finally, Jeanette.
She loved each member of this family dearly. In a time she’d been scared and alone, they’d welcomed her with open arms and made her a part of the family. Ten years later, she’d never had to experience loneliness again. Her heart was full of love—for her husband, her children, and this ever-growing family that she’d forever hold dear to her heart.
Whiter Than Snow
A Brides of Weatherton Christmas Novella
Available Here
Raised in an orphanage, Tallie Duncan hadn’t known love since she was a young child, but when she secured a position as a nanny to two rambunctious boys, she loved them as her own. They filled a void left by a life of tragedy, but when their mother discovered Tallie’s secret, her position was immediately terminated. She found herself on the streets, in a town and land about which she knew nothing.
Jeremiah Scott was returning to Weatherton, Wyoming after a six-year absence. Now that both of his parents had passed, he planned to renew the family ranch he’d left after his father’s death. The train ride from Chicago to Cheyenne reminded him how lonely winters in the west could be without someone to share them. While in Cheyenne, arranging business deals and outfitting his ranch, he decided to find an impromptu bride.
But when the bride was more than he bargained for, will it destroy his plans for marriage?
A Note From the Author
Dear Reader,
Thank you for joining me on this third trip to Weatherton. I just love this little town and all its citizens, and I’ve loved sharing Patrick’s tale. Stories of redemption are some of my favorites to read and write. For me, they always inspire faith and hope. Now that you’ve read Patrick’s story, what do you think? Is he forgiven for his past behavior?
The next visit to Weatherton will depart from the Holden family, but don’t worry—they will still make appearances, as will Rand and Lettie.
As the warm weather approaches, are you busy planning your summer? Will you be staying home or taking a vacation? My goal is to one day visit
all of America’s national parks and am excited that this year, my family will head to South Dakota to visit the Badlands and Black Hills. Don’t be surprised if the trip inspires a new book!
Whatever your plans, I pray your summer is filled with fun and family.
Until next time,
Leah
Connect with me:
Website
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Email: [email protected]
Other Titles available by Leah
Contemporary Romance Novels
Come to Me Alive
Come to Me Free
Come to Me Again
Come to Me Joyful (Bonus NOVELLA)
Brides of Weatherton Novellas
After the Rain
Fire and Ice
Winds of Change
Whiter than Snow
Dancing on Dew (December 2015)
Texas Wildflowers Novelette Series
Free to Love
Free to Heal
Free to Protect
Free to Serve
Free to Roam
Free to Forgive
Mail-Order Short Stories and Novelettes
The Ultimatum Bride
A Man to Be Proud Of
Their First Noelle
The Not Quite Mail-Order Bride
The Mail-Order Bride’s Quilt
Riches of the Heart
Unlikely Substitute
The Most Wonderful Bride of the Year
An Excerpt from Free to Love
Free to Love: Texas Wildflowers One
“We’re leaving.” Deputy Strand unlocked the cell door. “Time to get moving.”
Cord McGraw sat up from the hard platform being passed off as a bed. He didn’t say a word, only did what he was told. The sooner he did his time, the sooner he could get out of here. Deputy Strand secured his hands and led him outside to a team of horses hitched to a wagon.
“Get on up, now. We’re headed to Mucksbe.” The deputy jumped up from the left side.
Maneuvering with cuffed hands wasn’t easy, but Cord managed to climb into the wagon. Too proud to ask what was happening, he stared straight ahead and blocked out each jolt and jumble of the wagon as it ambled across the landscape.
Deputy Strand wiped his forehead with his arm sleeve. “You don’t talk much, do you, boy?”
“Words have never done me much good.” His tone matched his feelings—numb, monotonous, apathetic.
Sometime around noon, they arrived in Mucksbe. Cord was led into a church and his arms freed. He sat where directed and watched with concealed curiosity as each new person was brought into the building. The door creaked open again, and Cord looked back to see another deputy walk inside with a ragged man beside him.
“Sit down in the second pew.” The deputy gave the man a push on the shoulder.
The latest arrival made six men, including him, who sat in the desolate pews—each had been escorted by a deputy or sheriff. It wasn’t a stretch to assume the other men were criminals, and also the irony of them gathered in a place of worship didn’t escape Cord. Many years, even before he delved into the dark side, had passed since he’d last stepped foot inside such a building.
A snort almost broke away from him. Some criminal he’d turned out to be, getting caught the first and only time he’d broken the law. He didn’t belong with the likes of these men. The only reason he’d done what he had was to get the money Boss rightfully owed him. Ma and Coralie were counting on that money. Unfortunately for him, the law hadn’t seen it his way, and he was sentenced to two years in prison.
This morning was the first time in a month he’d gone more than ten feet from the jailhouse in Belleton, Texas. He still had most of his sentence left to serve, and it loomed ahead like a constant storm. Two years was too long to be away from Coralie. What would happen to her without his provisions?
Cord’s head jerked up when a large, imposing man entered the church, wearing a vest with a star-shaped badge attached. Another sheriff. The heavy door slammed shut behind him, sending a thundering echo through the building. An air of confidence and authority emanated from the sheriff as he walked down the aisle with long, deliberate strides. Some of the men sat at attention. Cord was indifferent.
The sheriff reached the front and leaned his back against the pulpit, his arms crossed in rigid form. His eyes landed on each man in the room, resting on them individually for a few seconds. Cord met his gaze and refused to flinch or blink. He even dared a tight nod.
“I am Sheriff Daniels. Welcome to Mucksbe, your new home, should you choose to make it.” Again, the sheriff took several moments to make eye contact with each man.
The hairs rose on Cord’s neck, and his ears perked. Now his interest was captured.
The dark-haired man in front of Cord shifted to the edge of his seat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Yeah, what do you mean by ‘new home’ exactly.” A scraggly blond haired man, who appeared an age similar to Cord’s twenty-three years, asked.
Unfazed by the skepticism, Sheriff Daniels kept his severe pose. “Men, each of you have been handpicked to participate in the new Freedom Brides program.”
“Brides?” Cord choked.
“Yes, Freedom Brides.” Sheriff Daniels grinned—it was an arrogant, mocking smile. “As a joint effort among several local communities, we’ve devised a social outreach program to combat multiple problems facing our towns.”
“Get to the gist.” The dark-haired man, the one who’d been the last to arrive, scowled.
Sheriff Daniels narrowed his gaze. “Any more outbursts and your offer to participate will be immediately rescinded.”
The man clenched his jaw but remained quiet.
“Each of you was chosen as a flagship participant because your crimes while still demanding punishment, are minor infractions. I and the other sheriffs involved believe you each have something to offer that will better our community.”
Or in my case, was only trying to get what was rightfully mine.
Silence reigned among the six men, every one of them at rapt attention.
Cord rose his hand, and the sheriff nodded permission to speak. “What does this program entail?”
“If you choose, you will marry a woman in need in exchange for your freedom.”
Beads of sweat broke out on Cord’s forehead. To gain his freedom, he’d have to marry? What kind of nonsense was this?
“I’m not too sure I follow,” the dark-haired man spoke again.
“A woman alone in the west is in a dangerous predicament, though often by no fault of their own. It is our hope to preempt that danger by placing said women with husbands.” The sheriff’s brief lapse of his confident pose told Cord he wasn’t overly confident of the plan.
And why would he be? It was absurd. “With all due respect, Sir, we are criminals. Why would the authorities believe these women not to be in danger to us?”
Cord would never hurt a woman, but that was beside the fact. Perhaps he shouldn’t say anything to dissuade the program, but he wasn’t certain marriage was a better sentence than his two years.
“In most circumstances, I would agree with you. However, all six of you were carefully considered before you were brought here.” Sheriff Daniels sighed and exhaled a deep breath mixed with equal measures of hope and wariness. “The other presiding sheriffs and I believe that in the case of each of you there is not inborn contempt that led you your crimes, rather a lack of maturity or good sense.”
Another man started to speak, but Sheriff Daniels held up a hand to stop him. “I understand that this is unconventional, but I truly believe it to be a program that will benefit the community in numerous ways.”
“So all we have to do is marry a woman and we get our freedom?” This time, it was a man who hadn’t spoken yet that asked the question.
“Essentially, yes.” The sheriff crossed his arms again, resuming the air of authority
. “There are parameters, of course, that must be followed.”
“Such as?” Cord’s mind was reeling.
The sheriff removed folded papers from his inner vest pocket. He straightened them out and handed each man a sheet. “They are all written here. Should you choose to participate, you must sign this paper, agreeing to abide by all rules. Otherwise, you’ll be returned to the jail cell you came from, same as if you break any of them.”
Cord took the paper handed to him and read the handwritten rules.
Remain within a fifteen-mile radius of the courthouse for the first six months of program involvement.
Refrain from any alcohol or tobacco use.
Refrain from entering any den of iniquity.
Remain faithful to their spouse and not bring any harm upon them.
Actively participate in assisting with spouse’s needs/requests.
Participate in one day of community service per month for the first six months.
Most didn’t seem so bad, except the first one. It meant he wouldn’t be able to go check on Ma and Coralie for another six months, but it would be sooner than serving out his two years.
Still, marriage for freedom? Was the trade-off worth it? He still wasn’t sure, but when the time came to sign his name, he dipped the pen into the ink and scrawled Cord McGraw on the indicated line. For better or worse, he was getting married.
