WESTERN ROMANCE: A Ranch to Call Home (Texas Romance, Mail Order Bride Romance, Clean Romance, Christian Romance) (Clean and Wholesome Romance)

by Grace Warren

  Lucy’s heart was being strangled in her chest, Nash was in pain. How could he not be? He had lost his love, the mother of his children. Lucy was an intruder in her home, learning to take over her duties with her children. She had been selfish, thinking of only herself and her situation. She needed to find Nash and apologize.

  “Vanessa,” She called as she ran down the stairs. “Vanessa.”

  She appeared from the kitchen, the usual apron tied at her waist. “For Pete’s sake, what is it?

  Lucy jumped from the last step and wrapped her arms around Vanessa. “Van, I’m sorry.” She smiled and ran from the house leaving Vanessa standing there stunned and silent.

  The distance between the house and the back pasture was much shorter when taken at a running pace. She arrived at the truck and opened the door snagging up some water and drinking it until it was gone and she had regained her breath. Nash was on horseback with the other hands and she leaned on the grill of the truck watching him take control and call out commands. When he looked in her direction she waved and smiled. He stopped, tilted his hat back and looked at her with confusion. She watched as he told a hand to take over and trotted over to her, dismounting and crossing the last few yards on foot.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  Lucy walked up close to him. She took his face in her hands as she stood on her tip toes. She kissed his lips with a light swiftness and looked into the sea green of his eyes. “I get it.”

  Nash didn’t say anything.

  “I’m sorry I was so self-centered. I can’t pretend to know how hard this is for you, but I recognize that it is.” She let her hands drop from his cheeks and was surprised when Nash took them and held them in his own. “I was going to go back to New York.” Lucy paused and saw his brow crinkle with concern. “I’m planning to go, unless you say you want me to stay, but don’t tell me unless you mean it.”

  Nash kept hold of her hands. “Do you need a ride back to the house?”

  She shook her head and recognized he needed time. “I can walk. I only wanted to say that and now I have. I’ll see you at lunch.”

  Nash stood by the truck and watched her walk away.

  Vanessa had prepared a lunch of sandwiches, potato salad and lemonade. The day was cooler than normal so when Lucy arrived back at the house she saw that Vanessa had set up a picnic table just outside the kitchen door. Lucy jumped in and began to help her, bringing out plates and napkins. She set the table and then walked to the barn to find the children.

  Olivia had stationed herself in a heaping stack of hay near Jasper’s stall and was reading out loud. Galen was busy driving miniature toy tractors and plastic horses through a box of kernels of cow corn.” Hey there cowpokes.” greeted Lucy.

  “Lucy!” they both cried and Galen ran and jumped into her waiting arms. “What’s a cowpoke?” he asked.

  “What’s a cowpoke?” she teased and tossed him with gentle care into the hay pile by his sister. “This is a cowpoke.” Lucy began to tickle the small boy’s sides and he laughed with genuine glee. She started to poke Olivia too until the three of them were wrapped up in a tickle fight of epic proportions, covered in hay from head to foot. None of them noticed Nash standing outside the barn door observing their interaction.

  Vanessa called from the porch and the hay covered trio walked to the lunch table hand in hand, their face glowing with happiness. “We should go in and clean up first.” suggested Lucy. “Van, it looks wonderful, thank you for all your efforts.” She placed her hand on Nash’s forearm with a little squeeze as she walked by and led the children into the house.

  While in the bathroom washing their hands, Olivia hummed her usual tune. Lucy dried her hands and handed the towel to Galen, helping him dry his fingers, hands and the sleeves of his shirt. “Olivia, where did you learn that song?”

  Olivia stopped and considered her answer, not sure she should vocalize it. “Momma, use to sing it to me and Galen.”

  Lucy now understood why Vanessa had quieted Olivia that first day. She smiled at the girl. “That makes it extra special.” She sang in a soft whisper as they made their way back outside. Once they stepped onto the porch she squeezed Olivia’s hand and gave her a wink before placing her finger to her lips. “We can sing again later.”

  Nash walked out behind them, Lucy had not seen him. He stood there with a fresh picture of lemonade waiting for them to go before him and be seated.

  After lunch Nash remained at the house. He played with the children outside while Vanessa and Lucy picked up and put items away. When Lucy had stacked the last of the plates back in the cupboard she turned to Vanessa. “I want you to know I see what a wonderful person you are.”

  Vanessa scoffed, “What are you on about?”

  “You stepped in and raised two amazing children and stood by a man that was broken. That could not have been easy. I mean she was your sister, you were grieving too.”

  Vanessa’s eyes looked to Lucy’s and filled with tears. “I love them all so very much.” She whispered. “I couldn’t bear to see them hurt all over again.”

  Lucy shook her head. “Van, I won’t hurt them. I promise. Even if Nash decided this is not what he wants…if I am not what he wants, I love those two little children. I didn’t think a person could fall this hard this fast, but I have.”

  There was a scuffling of feet in the hallway and Galen came running into the kitchen. “Aunt Van, daddy says we can have a cookie.”

  Vanessa pulled the boy on to her lap. “He did now, did he?”

  Galen nodded emphatically.

  “Well I think perhaps you should ask Lucy if that is okay?” she said, watching Lucy from across the table.

  Galen looked at Lucy with pleading in his eyes. “May I, Ma’am?”

  She smiled and dabbed the corner of her eye. “I think we can allow that.” While she handed him a napkin stacked with chocolate chip cookies she whispered, “Thank you.” to a sincere Aunt Van.

  Chapter SEVEN

  Olivia and Galen lay in Olivia’s bed dressed in their pajamas. Lucy closed the cover of “Green Eggs and Ham” and placed the book on the shelf alongside a dozen other children’s books.

  “Lucy,” said Olivia “will you sing us a song before we go to bed?”

  She sat down and pulled Galen on to her lap. “Do you want to sing Come Follow Me?”

  Olivia shook her head. “Can we learn a new one?”

  Lucy sat for a minute and thought of some lyrics. She started off with a soft hum trying to remember the tune correctly. “Once there was a way to get back homeward, once there was a way to get back home, sleep pretty darling do not cry and I will sing a lullaby.”

  Lucy continued the classic Beatles song and tucked in Olivia, kissing her sweet forehead. She hummed and carried Galen off to his own room, repeating the lyrics once more before tucking him in beneath his blankets and kissing his cheek. “Sleep tight, love.” She said and walked out the door. As she turned to head to her own room she saw Nash’s door click shut.

  Her bed felt warm and welcoming. Her body was weary but it was a good feeling. She reached for the bedside lamp and switched it off moments after there was a soft knock on her door. One of the children must still be awake. Without thinking she called for them to come in. Nash opened her door.

  “Are you awake?”

  Lucy sat up in bed. “Nash, is everything okay?”

  “May I come in?”

  “Of course.” She reached for the light.

  “No, don’t turn it on.” he said. Her fingers dropped back to her side. Nash sat on the edge of the bed beside her. “I came in to apologize and to thank you.”

  “I don’t understand, Nash.” Lucy tried to see his eyes in the darkness of the room.

  “I was wrong to treat you the way I have. I invited you to be a part of this family and I haven’t treated you like you are. I know you’re not…” his words cut off with a quick intake of breath. “You are Lucy and I don’t want you to be anyone else.�
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  She opened her mouth to tell him this wasn’t necessary, but he stopped her.

  “Please let me finish.”

  Lucy closed her mouth and listened, laying her hand on his instead.

  “You have been wonderful. Olivia and Galen adore you and you are so good with them. I didn’t think I’d see that again.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Van is great, but she has her own family and friends. People she has set aside for three years now to take care of us.” He paused again. “Lilly would not have wanted that.”

  Lucy pulled her hand away. Nash entangled his fingers in hers drawing her back. “She’d want us all happy.” There was silence in the darkness and when Nash brought her hand to his cheek and kissed her palm she felt the tears that had been shed.

  “Nash?”

  He kissed her palm again. “I want you to stay.”

  Chapter EIGHT

  Nash and Lucy were married on the front porch. Olivia sang and Galen stood proud holding the rings. Vanessa made a lovely meal and they all celebrated with family and friends. Lucy had never felt so sure about any decision in her lifetime more than she did when she uttered those two words “I do.” When the minister pronounced them man and wife and gave them permission to kiss, Nash took her in his arms and kissed her soft and full on the mouth. She was breathless.

  A year later Nash stood in the bedroom at the end of the hallway, a picture frame in his hand, “Lilly, I’d like you to meet someone.” He placed the new photograph by the silver frame. A picture of him standing in front of the house, Olivia and Galen at his left and Lucy at his right, a pink bundle in his arms, was added to the shelf. “This is Lacey Lillian McCain.”

  Lucy joined her husband, a smile on her face. “Lunch is ready.”

  “Are you coming?” he asked as she lingered.

  Lucy nodded and kissed his cheek as he left the room. She looked at the two pictures, her heart full. “Thank you, Lilly”

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  The Gambler’s True Heart

  Grace Warren

  Synopsis:

  It is the late nineteenth century in the United States, and Alton and his family are forced to leave their small town of Texas after Alton gets in trouble with the local gang there. Not knowing where else to go, they head north in hopes of a better, safer life. But it isn’t long before Alton’s mother gets sick and his siblings get hungry. Desperate, Alton is willing to do anything to survive.

  Mary Anne has to get married in order to rid herself of her spinster status in Kansas City, Kansas. While she is perfectly fine with living in her father’s mansion as an unmarried woman, her father is embarrassed by her poor reputation in their hometown, and demands that she hires someone to marry her. Reluctantly, she travels throughout Kansas in search of the ideal man. And then she comes across Alton.

  Could this meeting be the answer to both their prayers?

  Alton, 1885

  Texas

  It was dark by the time Alton managed to reach home, a humble little house outside of town. The white fence that surrounded the house was chipped and slanted, as was the house’s window frames. It didn’t matter though, for Alton and his family didn’t have any neighbors to judge them. There was nothing but dirt and a scarce amount of brush in the area.

  Alton burst through his front door and ran into his ma’s bedroom. However, once he was in there, he awkwardly hovered by the doorframe. He never went into his mother’s bedroom, and a slight embarrassment warmed his cheeks. “Ma? Ma, wake up. Wake up, we’ve got to go. Ma!”

  His mother jolted in her bed. Sitting up and holding the blankets up to her chest, she swore at Alton like a pissed off drunkard.

  “We have to leave,” Alton said, trembling a little from his adrenaline rush. “Now.”

  “What happened?” his mother asked. She sounded serious now—more aware.

  Alton licked his lips and cringed. “I got into some trouble with the Delvito gang. I owe them a lot of money I don’t have. We have to leave town or…” The possible consequences of remaining in a small town of Texas while a gang was after you chilled Alton.

  His mother was silent for several seconds. She had repeatedly told him that something like this would happen if he kept up his gambling. Alton was actually relieved when, instead of lecturing him again, she just stood up and pointed at something in the hallway.

  “Get your brother and sisters,” she said.

  Alton immediately did as he was told.

  Mary Anne, 1885

  Kansas City, Kansas

  It was a warm, sunny day, but Mary Anne had the curtains drawn in her study as she painted an abstract image on her canvas. Sunlight tended to distract her when she was in the midst of creating something. Plus, there were people outside in the town, and the thought of them seeing her through the window made Mary Anne’s skin tingle with apprehension. It didn’t matter that she was on the second story of her father’s luxurious home—people still could have possibly seen her through the window if she hadn’t had the curtains drawn.

  Mary Anne, deciding not to think about other people anymore, stepped back and smiled at her painting. It was a nonsensical image, made up of blues and oranges and roundish shape. Staring at it made pride swell in her chest. She tightened her grip on her paint brush and her paint palette, a small squeal bursting through her throat.

  She loved her creations. It didn’t matter if anyone else saw them—if anyone else even liked them. What she created was hers, all hers.

  There was a light knock on the door before it was opened. “Mary Anne?”

  “Dad,” Mary Anne greeted, spinning toward him. A bit of paint flew from her brush and splattered on the carpet. Mary Anne snorted at it with a light kind of bitterness.

  Her father scowled, but he said nothing as he entered the study. He was an elderly man with a sagging face and a thin mouth. He hunched forward whenever he stood or walked, and based on the way he would heave out his breathes, any amount of movement he did exhausted him easily.

  Mary Anne patiently waited for him to approach her.

  “We need to talk,” he huffed, standing next to her. Even while he was hunched forward, he was still a couple inches taller than she was.

  “What about?”

  “People have been speaking about you.”

  Mary Anne frowned, discomfort swirling in her torso. She set her paint supplies on a stained rag, which had been placed on the cedar desk near her.

  Her father glared at her while she did this. He never liked her painting in the study—creating a mess in such a formal place. He never stopped her though, so she continued to do it.

  “And this bothers you?” she asked him with a challenging—albeit wobbly—tone. She faced him and tried to make herself appear strong, indifferent. Inside though, her heart was shattering.

  “Of course it does,” he said. He sucked in a bunch of breath and swallowed a big gulp of saliva. Then he shook his head, his eyes full of disappointment. “You are 30, unmarried, childless, and living with your widower father. It is an embarrassment. Some have said…well, I won’t tell you some of the crueler things that were said.”

  Mary Anne blinked back the tears. “I’m sorry to hear that. But people sh—”

  “No, no, no,” he said, wagging his wrinkled finger at her. “No more excuses. You have shamed our name long enough. You must find a husband—start a family—be a good, Christian woman.”

  Mary Anne got a sour taste in her mouth. She wanted to argue—wanted to defend herself—but she knew from experience that her words wouldn’t make a difference. Her father had worked hard to provide the life they now had, and the truth of the matter was Mary Anne didn’t deserve the luxury and the freedom she had; she hadn’t earned any of it.

  She sighed and gave her father a small smile. “Alright, dad. I will try harder.”

  He narrowed his eyes, doubt gleaming in tho
se faded orbs. After a few seconds of analyzing her face, he nodded and turned to leave. “See that you do.”

  She smiled at his retreated form. When he exited the study, she finally allowed a few tears to crawl down her cheeks.

  Mary Anne was horrified when several months passed and she still had no suitor.

  She paced in her room and tugged at her hair, which had been in a bun before she entangled her fingers in it and pulled. Fear made her heart beat rapidly, yet her limbs felt cold and her stomach felt jittery.

  Perhaps she was unlovable. She didn’t consider herself to be masculine, yet she clearly wasn’t feminine enough for a man to want her. She couldn’t even flirt.

  “Floozies flirt!” she declared to the empty room. “And I’m respectable! So of course I…” She giggled. “Oh hell, I think I’ve gone crazy.” She walked up to her bedroom mirror, which was as tall and thin as her. She stared at herself; her reddish blonde hair was frizzy and falling out of its bun, her eyes were pinkish from lack of sleep, and her smile kind of looked funny to her. “Yes. Crazy.”

  Talking to her father was pointless. He had refused to hear her out each time she explained why a man had rejected her or why she had chosen to stay home for a few days that one week…well, that happened multiple weeks, actually.

  She bellowed out a sigh. “Stubborn ass. Can’t leave well enough alone. Won’t talk to me, so I have to talk to myself? That’s plain rude, that’s what that is.” She nodded at her reflection, who whole-heartedly agreed with her.