She put on a pot to boil water for potatoes and took a few minutes to rest while the water heated. She looked around at the barren furniture they had inherited from Reverend Victor. Callie still couldn't believe that her sister Bettie was married and living on her own land with her new husband.
The marriage had come quickly after the reverend’s public proposal, but the changes hadn’t stopped there. Callie and Essie knew right away that the one room cabin the three sisters had lived in would never do for four people—especially not with two of them newly married. When Reverend Victor suggested Callie and Essie move into town in his parish house, Callie had seen it as a godsend.
She rose and traced her hand along the rough-hewn table. While she loved her sisters deeply, living here with Essie made things simple. Callie worked at the local hotel as the cook, which supplied them with just enough income to live on.
The water started to boil and she rushed to pull it from the heat and drop the potatoes in to cook. Sadness crept into her heart as she slid the chunked vegetables into the water. She had a good life—a full life—and yet something was missing. Being the oldest of the four sisters and watching two of them fall in love and be married left Callie wanting more.
Lord, do You have someone for me?
She knew that contentment in the Lord was more important than her personal desires, but if God should see fit to bless her with a husband, she wouldn’t turn him down.
Until then, she’d cook her famous chicken pot pie at the hotel and care for her youngest sister. That would have to be enough.
Wade Goodrich slammed the door as he left the ranch house where his father lived with a few of the hands he employed. Each day it was becoming clearer that his father, Bart Goodrich, was void of compassion and motivated by selfishness.
It pained Wade to admit these things were true, but he couldn’t help but see them in the choices his father made as well as the words he spoke.
“Heading out early Wade?”
Wade blinked out of his thoughts. “Um, yeah Al, I’m heading back to my place.”
“We’ll see you around tomorrow, yeah? We’ve got to move that head of cattle from the back pasture.”
“Yeah, I’ll be here.” The ranch hand nodded then stomped up the steps to the house.
At the barn, Wade saddled up his horse and headed out to his land situated behind his father’s.
How many times had he thought about cutting ties to the main Goodrich ranch? Too many, but something held him back. At first he thought it was his family pride, but now he was beginning to wonder if it was just his own selfishness. Was he wrong to stay in business with his father?
The sun set across the flat planes that led the way to the small valley where his cabin was situated. Next to it, the small, temporary barn waited to house his horse for the evening. Inside his cabin he knew he’d find a can of beans and a piece of salted meat if he were lucky.
He needed to start taking better care of himself.
But it was more than that. He needed to make changes in his own life and with his relationships, namely his father.
God, what would you have me do?
It was at times like these, surrounded by nature and relative silence, that he felt the Lord’s presence with clarity. His father said he was foolish for believing what Reverend Victor preached, but Wade knew that listening to him was the smartest thing he’d ever done.
After brushing and feeding his horse, he went inside and stoked the banked fire to heat up his beans. There was no salted pork and he let out a groan. The life of a bachelor was getting old. At twenty-five he was ready to admit that it was time to settle down, but it was one thing to admit that and another to follow through with it.
An image of blonde hair and blue eyes as clear as the sky flashed in his mind.
Callie Cummins was the woman of his dreams. She was the very same woman who would stop at nothing to berate him every time she saw him.
He slumped into his only chair and ate the mildly warm beans right out of the can. He was a fool to think that she’d ever fancy him, but there was something about her fiery spirit and conviction that drew him to her.
It was over a month ago that she’d chewed him out in front of half the town, and yet he’d risk her tongue lashing for one more chance to make things right.
He was no fool. He knew what his father had done to Bettie and Russell’s barn, and he couldn’t blame Callie for standing up for her sister like she did. But how could he prove to her that he’d had no part in the plot? He needed her to realize that if he had he known what his father was planning, he would have put a stop to it, or at the very least warned them.
It was too late for that though. The damage was done and, even though he’d showed up to help rebuild the barn, he’d been chased away. Her angry words still rang in his ears.
The grin spread over his face and he shook his head ruefully. He was a glutton for punishment. Why fancy a woman like Callie knowing she’d only berate him and send him away if he ever showed his face around her again?
I could use a little help here, Lord.
He thought back to Reverend Victor’s sermon on judgment and forgiveness. Maybe, just maybe, he could hope that Callie would practice forgiveness and refrain from judging him because of his father. If only there was a way he could show her who he really was without her defenses going up.
Wade finished off the can of beans and pulled off his boots. He lay back on his bed to read his Bible before he went to sleep. Maybe Callie couldn’t forgive him for his association with his father, but at least he knew for certain that the Lord did. That was as comfort he could rest in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
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“Homestead HOPE: Essie’s Story”
Excerpt from Book 4 of the “Dakota Mail Order Brides” Series
Chapter 1
Yankton, South Dakota | February 1864
“Can you come get the baby?” Winnie called out.
Essie jolted back to the present from her daydream. She’d been sitting on a log overlooking a river. A handsome young man whose face she couldn’t quite see had offered his arm to her for a walk.
“Yes,” she called out, “Be right there.”
Essie carefully put down the book she’d borrowed from one of the older women at church and rushed to the room where Winnie sat with baby Jeremiah.
“I’m sorry, I just need to rest, and he wants to be up and about. You don’t mind do you?”
“No, not at all.” Essie took the wiggling bundle and pressed him close to her. He smelled sweet and felt soft against her skin. “Rest well, sister.”
Winnie gave her a grateful smile and leaned back against the pillows. “I will. Thank you.”
Essie carefully backed out of the door and closed it with her free hand. She turned to Jeremiah and whispered, “What shall we do, then?”
He gurgled in response and she laughed. Her nephew was the most precious thing she’d seen and she loved taking care of him most days. It was a lot to handle, though. Her older sisters were now all married, and she floated between their homes like wayfaring stranger. She was with Winnie now because her sister needed help adjusting to life as a mother, but she knew she’d be back with Bettie or Callie soon.
She sighed and tossed out a blanket and placed the baby on his back, dangling a toy made of rags above his head. As he reached up and tried to capture the toy, he made happy gurgling noises. Essie’s mind wandered, as it often did.
She wanted her chance at romance. Seeing Winnie and Russell on a daily basis made her incredibly happy and yet slightly jealous. Then, of course, Bettie and Victor had fallen in love and, once they were married, Callie and Wade hadn’t been far behind.
Jeremiah grasped the rag and pulled with surprising strength and Essie laughed.
&n
bsp; “Well now, aren’t you already the strong young man?”
He grinned up at her and reached out for the toy again.
If only she could meet her prince, like the fairy tales she’d read in one of the books she’d borrowed. Young maidens were always rescued by handsome princes—or at least well-meaning young men. Where was her prince?
She laughed again, tickling Jeremiah until his small laugh pierced the quiet. It sounded so foolish to think of a prince coming to her rescue. She’d settle for a handsome cowboy though. Someone with broad shoulders, fine features, and a winsome smile. Someone who would put her first and care for her. Someone who—
Essie jumped in surprise. Her daydream was interrupted by a knock on the door. Jeremiah turned toward the sound as well but Essie was already picking up him. She approached the door with caution. Everyone was gone today since all of the hands had been needed on driving a large herd to a new location. She bit her lip and stared at the door and waited a few more seconds.
Another knock, louder this time, rocked through the silence of the house but it was followed by, “Hello? Anybody home? It’s Gus.”
Relief flooded through Essie and she pulled the door open. “Gus!”
He looked surprised at her excitement to see him, and his eyes went to the baby in her arms.
“Well, come in silly,” she said, and stepped back to let him in.
He ambled in, his cane close to his right leg; so much a part of him Essie hardly noticed it now. He didn’t say anything, but stood just inside the door glancing between her, the baby, and the floor. She was used to his brooding silence and waited, knowing he would speak up when he was ready.
“I came to take the mare in to town.”
She searched her memory for any clue to what he was talking about. “The mare…?”
He nodded once. “Russell mentioned one of his mare’s had thrown a shoe. I thought I’d take care of that.”
His kindness washed over her. Russell would never ask him to take care of something like that, but he would do it anyway. Not many people saw the soft side to Gus McNeal.
“I’m assuming he’s not expecting you to take her.”
He shook his head once.
“Well, since you’re here, would you like a piece of peach pie?”
He scrunched up his face. “Did you make it?”
“Yes, sir.” She said, smiling.
“Then probably not.”
Her mouth dropped open at his blunt comment until a rare grin burst onto his usually gruff features.
“How dare you, Gus! I should take back my offer.”
He didn’t defend his teasing and she knew he wouldn’t. Instead, she turned around and went to the kitchen to get the man his pie. He always gave her a hard time, and yet she found that she didn’t mind it one bit.
Gus took a bite of the pie and almost choked. It was much too sweet and the crust was rubbery instead of flaky, but he’d never tell sweet Essie that. She looked on with a hopeful expression that showed she’d put all of her effort into making the dessert.
“Mmm,” he said, swallowing the lump of dough in his mouth.
She jogged the baby up and down on her knee then looked back at him with pale blue eyes the color of the morning sky. Her bright blonde hair reminded him of the husks of wheat left at the end of the season. In his opinion she was by far the most beautiful of the Cummins sisters and, for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why no man had come to his senses and courted or married her.
Then again, she was still young. If he remembered correctly she’d just turned eighteen but, as Russell liked to say, her mind was a thousand miles away almost all the time. He was always telling stories about how she’d burned the stew or over-baked the bread, leaving Winnie to clean up after her messes because she was off walking by the river or reading a book.
Gus knew his friend became frustrated with her at times. She would disappear for hours at a time, not noticing the passing of the sun. She was a dreamer. Innocent and maybe a little naive.
Gus liked her innocence though. It reminded him of happier times—when he used to have a similar hope in the world, the same one that he saw shining from her eyes. But that hope had been dashed. Burned out and shot to pieces with the war.
“Gus,” Essie said, her voice breaking into his dark thoughts. “Why is it that things never happen in real life like they do in books?”
He wanted to laugh and spout some cynical words in reply, but Essie was the one person he wouldn't do that to. He wanted to preserve her innocence as much as possible. To protect her from the harsher realities of life.
He swallowed, the pies sweetness matching that of the woman in front of him. “A good book will take you out of where you are and put you smack dab in the middle of something new. Something different.” He considered his own book collection. “Folks read to escape reality. Maybe that’s why it’s always better than real life.”
She frowned, rubbing the baby’s back with her delicate hand. “I suppose you’re right.”
She sounded sad and he immediately regretted what he’d said. Had it been too harsh?
“I’m sorry,” he managed.
Her eyes shot to his, surprised. “Whatever for?” then she smiled, like the sun rising up from behind the mountains. “You’re right, you know. I would assume reading about a prince rescuing a handmaiden is much better than reading about how the prince demanded she clean his boots instead.” She managed a laugh. “It’s just that sometimes I just wish…” she trailed off.
He wished she could have a happy ending. And, by gum, she deserved it. But there wasn’t anything he could do to help her. Nothing he could do to make some man swoop in and sweep her off her feet.
He stood quickly, bumping the table and startling the baby. “I best be going.”
“So soon?” she asked, standing as well and shifting the weight of the baby in her arms.
Her blue eyes searched his, so close and open, and the weight of reality settled heavy in his chest. He wanted to be the man that came in and rescued her.
But that was ridiculous. Some prince he’d make. A bum leg and a grouchy personality, none of the things authors wrote about when describing the perfect hero.
“I’ll bring the mare back when the blacksmith is done with her.” He limped toward the door then paused, his hand on the handle. “Thanks for the pie, Essie.”
Her smile warmed him from the inside out and he forced himself to turn around and leave. Essie Cummins was too sweet and too innocent for the likes of him. He’d only ruin her with his bitterness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
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“Music For His Heart”
Excerpt from A Meant-To-Be Mail Order Brides Western Romance
All In A Letter
Light filtered in through the tall windows lining the walls of the church. Dust motes did a slow dance in the air as Clara Thomas awaited the arrival of her last pupil. While she waited, her fingers traced the cool ivory keys in front of her. It had been over three months since she’d been forced to sacrifice her one remaining, precious possession to stay out of debt. The regret of having to part with the piano she inherited from her mother still gnawed at her. Memories of long-ago melodies played while seated at her mother’s side floated through her mind, and she felt the vise of guilt squeeze a tear from her eye.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the loud bang of a slammed door at the back of the church, and the sound of footsteps pounded toward her. A soft smile parted her lips as she watched the little boy skid to a stop in front of her.
“Sorry I’m late, Mrs. Thomas.” The boy’s golden hair flew in every possible direction and he chewed on the corner of his lip.
“That’s all right, Robert.” She gave him a smile and he stopped biting his lip. “Just remember that being on time
for your lessons is an important skill to master.” He nodded and he frowned at the soft chastisement.
“I would have been here on time, but Pa told me he had a letter for you and I had to wait for him to get it so I could give it to ya.”
“A letter you say? Do you have it with you?” Clara’s stomach did a nervous flip and she smoothed her hands over her dress. She tried to hide the effort to take a moment to compose herself in front of her pupil.
“’Course,” he said. “I took special care of it.” He pulled the crumpled letter from his back pocket and handed it to Clara. She took the letter from Robert and her hands trembled when she saw the familiar script. He had written her back.
“Thank you, Robert. You did very well.” She trucked the letter into her satchel and turned her full attention back to her student. “Let’s begin our lesson, shall we?”
The little boy took his place on the piano bench and wiggled his fingers over the keyboard before resting them in the ready position to play his scales. With painstaking care, and a tongue at the corner of his mouth he played the C scale.
Clara tried to focus on her young student, offering critiques when necessary, but as Robert played through the normal routine of basic scales, her thoughts drifted to the letter tucked away in her satchel. In some ways she felt it determined her fate.
The memory of his strong, bold script as it flowed across the pages of his letters made her smile. Ezra Boone wasn’t a romantic man by most standards, but the kind words in his letters tugged at her heart. In some ways they reminded her of the bold and determined way Charles used to speak, but Charles had rarely said much that tugged at her heart. Ezra’s words were full of meaning and had a softness her husband’s hadn’t possessed when he’d been alive. She loved Charles and loved being his wife, but it hadn’t always been easy. Since his death two years ago, Clara still felt the occasional pang of grief when she was alone. She missed him but she had to move on. It was the only thing left for her to do.
Hannah: A Bride For Cowboy Warren (Mail Order Brides For The Doyle Brothers Book 1) Page 6
