by Lyn Cote
The Wedding Promise
No one is more surprised than Sunny Licht when Noah Whitmore proposes. She’s a scarlet woman and an unwed mother—an outcast even in her small Quaker community. But she can’t resist Noah’s offer of a fresh start in a place where her scandalous past is unknown.
In Sunny, the former Union soldier sees a woman whose loneliness matches his own. When they arrive in Wisconsin, he’ll see that she and her baby daughter want for nothing...except the love that war burned out of him. Yet Sunny makes him hope once more—for the home they’re building, and the family he never hoped to find.
“Sunny, will thee be my wife and go west with me?”
Noah’s hand was large and rough but so gentle, and his touch warmed her. Then she did something she had barely learned to do—she prayed. Dear Father, should I marry Noah Whitmore?
She waited, wondering if the Inner Light the Quakers believed in would come to her now, when she needed it so. She glanced up into Noah’s eyes and his loneliness beckoned her, spoke to her own lonesome heart. “Yes,” she whispered, shocking herself. Her words pushed goose bumps up along her arms.
“May God bless your union with a love as rich and long as Eve’s and mine,” Solomon said. The elderly man’s words were emphasized by the tender look he turned to his spouse, who beamed at him in turn.
Oh, to be loved that way. Sunny turned to Noah and glimpsed stark anguish flickering in his dark, dark eyes. Maybe Noah, born and raised among these gentle people, would be capable of love like that.
But what could I possibly have to offer in the way of love?
Books by Lyn Cote
Love Inspired Historical
†Her Captain’s Heart
†Her Patchwork Family
†Her Healing Ways
§Their Frontier Family
Love Inspired
Never Alone
New Man in Town
Hope’s Garden
~Finally Home
~Finally Found
The Preacher’s Daughter
*His Saving Grace
*Testing His Patience
*Loving Constance
Blessed Bouquets: “Wed by a Prayer”
**Shelter of Hope
**Daddy in the Making
**Building a Family
Love Inspired Suspense
††Dangerous Season
††Dangerous Game
††Dangerous Secrets
~Bountiful Blessings
*Sisters of the Heart
††Harbor Intrigue
†The Gabriel Sisters
**New Friends Street
§Wilderrness Brides
LYN COTE
and her husband, her real-life hero, became in-laws recently when their son married his true love. Lyn already loves her daughter-in-law and enjoys this new adventure in family stretching. Lyn and her husband still live on the lake in the north woods, where they watch a bald eagle and its young soar and swoop overhead throughout the year. She wishes the best to all her readers. You may email Lyn at [email protected] or write her at P.O. Box 864, Woodruff, WI 54548. And drop by her blog, www.strongwomenbravestories.blogspot.com, to read stories of strong women in real life and in true-to-life fiction. “Every woman has a story. Share yours.”
Lyn Cote
Their Frontier Family
As far as the east from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us.
—Psalm 103:12
Therefore if any man be in Christ,
he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.
—2 Corinthians 5:17
To my hard-working and insightful editor,
Tina James
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Questions for Discussion
Excerpt
Chapter One
Pennsylvania, April 1869
“Harlot.”
Sunny Adams heard the harsh whisper across the nearly empty general store, knowing she was meant to hear it. Her heart clenched so tightly that she thought she might pass out. Two women at the door looked at her, lifted their noses, then turned and left the store, rudely jangling the little bell above.
She bowed her head, praying that she wouldn’t reveal the waves of shame coursing through her. Though she wore the plain clothing of the Quakers, a simple unruffled gray dress and bonnet, she hadn’t fooled anyone. They all saw through her mask.
A man cleared his throat. The storekeeper wanted her out. Could she blame him? While she shopped here, no “decent” woman would enter. She set down the bolt of blue calico she’d been admiring, hiding the trembling of her hands.
Feeling as if she were slogging through a cold, rushing flood, she moved toward the storekeeper. “I think that will be...all.” She opened her purse, paid for the items Mrs. Gabriel had sent her into town to purchase. Outwardly, she kept her head lowered. Inwardly, she dragged up her composure like a shield around her. Trying to avoid further slights, she hurried across the muddy street to the wagon. Approaching hooves sounded behind her but she didn’t look over her shoulder.
Just as she reached the wagon, a man stepped out of the shadows. “Let me help you up,” he said.
She backed away. This wasn’t the first time he’d approached her, and she had no trouble in identifying what he really wanted from her. “I don’t need your help.” She made her voice hard and firm. “Please do not accost me like this. I will tell Adam Gabriel—”
“He’s a Quaker,” the man sneered. “Won’t do anything to me. Just tell me to seek God or something.”
And with that, he managed to touch her inappropriately.
She stifled a scream. Because who would come to her aid if she called for help? A prostitute—even a reformed one—had no protectors.
“I’m a Quaker,” a man said from behind Sunny, “but I’ll do more than tell thee to seek God.”
Sunny spun around to see Noah Whitmore getting off his horse. Though she’d seen him at the Quaker meeting house earlier this year, she’d never spoken to him.
The man who’d accosted her took a step back. “I thought when you came back from the war, you repented and got all ‘turn the other cheek’ again.”
Noah folded his arms. “Thee ever hear the story about Samson using the jawbone of a jackass to slaughter Philistines?” Noah’s expression announced that he was in the mood to follow Samson’s example here and now.
Sunny’s heart pounded. Should she speak or remain silent?
The rude man began backing away. “She isn’t the first doxy the Gabriel family’s taken in to help.” The last two words taunted her. “Where’s the father of her brat? She’s not foolin’ anybody. She can dress up like a Quaker but she isn’t one. And we all know it.”
Noah took a menacing step forward and the man turned and bolted between stores toward the alley. Noah removed his hat politely. “I’m sorry,” he said simply.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
His pant legs were spattered with mud. He looked as if he had just now gotten back from the journey that had taken him away for the past few months. She’d noticed his absence—after all, it was a small church.
But honesty prompted her to admit that Noah had always caught her attention, right from the beginning.
Noah wasn’t handsome in the way of a charming gambler in a fancy vest. He was good-looking in a real way, and something about the bleak look in his eyes, the grim set of his face, always tugged at her, made her want to go to him and touch his cheek.
A foolish thing I could never do.
“Is thee happy here?” Noah asked her. The unexpected question startled her. She struggled to find a polite reply.
He waved a hand as if wiping the question off a chalkboard.
She was relieved. Happy was a word she rarely thought of in connection with her life.
She forced down the emotions bubbling up, churning inside her. She knew that Mrs. Gabriel sent her to town as a little change in the everyday routine of the farm, a boon, not an ordeal. I should tell her how it always is for me in town.
But Sunny hadn’t been able to bring herself to speak of the insults, snubs and liberties she faced during each trip to town—not to the sweet unsullied Quaker woman, Constance Gabriel. The woman who’d taken her in just before Christmas last year and treated her like a daughter.
Sunny then realized that Noah was waiting to help her up into the wagon and that she hadn’t answered his question. She hastily offered him her hand. “Yes, the Gabriels have been very good to me.”
Two women halted on the boardwalk and stared at the two of them with searing intensity and disapproval. Sunny felt herself blush. “I’d better go. Mrs. Gabriel will be wondering where I am,” Sunny said.
Noah frowned but then courteously helped her up onto the wagon seat. “If thee doesn’t mind, since I’m going thy way, I’ll ride alongside thee.”
What could she say? He wasn’t a child. He must know what associating with her would cost him socially. She slapped the reins and the wagon started forward. Noah swung up into his saddle and caught up to her.
Behind them both women made loud huffing sounds of disapproval.
“Don’t let them bother thee,” Noah said, leaning so she could hear his low voice. “People around here don’t think much of Quakers. We’re misfits.”
Sunny wondered if he might be partially right. Though she was sure the women were judging her, maybe they were judging him, too. Certainly Quakers dressed, talked and believed differently than any people she’d ever met before. She recalled now what she’d heard before, that Noah had gone to war. For some reason this had grieved his family and his church.
“You went to war,” slipped out before she could stop herself.
His mouth became a hard line. “Yes, I went to war.”
She’d said the wrong thing. “But you’re home now.”
Noah didn’t respond.
She didn’t know what to say so she fell silent, as well.
Twice wagons passed hers as she rode beside a pensive Noah Whitmore on the main road. The people in the wagons gawked at seeing the two of them together. Several times along the way she thought Noah was going to say more to her, but he didn’t. He looked troubled, too. She wanted to ask him what was bothering him, but she didn’t feel comfortable speaking to him like a friend. Except for the Gabriels, she had no friends here.
Finally when she could stand the silence no longer, she said, “You’ve been away recently.” He could take that as a question or a comment and treat it any way he wanted.
“I’ve been searching for a place of my own. I plan to homestead in Wisconsin.”
His reply unsettled her further. Why, she couldn’t say. “I see.”
“Has thee ever thought about leaving here?”
“Where would I go?” she said without waiting to think about how she should reply. She hadn’t learned to hold her quick tongue—unfortunately.
He nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
And what would I do? She had no way to support herself—except to go back to the saloon. Sudden revulsion gagged her.
Did those women in town think she’d chosen to be a prostitute? Did they think her mother had chosen to be one? A saloon was where a woman went when she had nowhere else to go. It wasn’t a choice; it was a life sentence.
As they reached the lane to the Whitmore family’s farm, Noah pulled at the brim of his hat. “Sunny, I’ll leave thee here. Thanks for thy company. After weeks alone it was nice to speak to thee.”
We didn’t say much—or rather, you didn’t. But Sunny smiled and nodded, her tongue tied by his kindness. He’d actually been polite to her in public. At the saloon, men were often polite but only inside. Outside they didn’t even look at her, the lowest of the low.
With a nod, Noah rode down the lane.
Sunny drove on in turmoil. A mile from home she stopped the wagon and bent her head, praying for self-control as she often did on her return trip from town. If she appeared upset, she would have to explain the cause of her distress to Constance Gabriel. And she didn’t want to do that. She owed the Gabriel family much. She’d met Mercy Gabriel, M.D., the eldest Gabriel daughter, in Idaho Territory. Dr. Mercy had delivered Sunny’s baby last year and then made the arrangements for Sunny to come here to her parents, Constance and Adam, and try for a new start.
But she couldn’t stay in this town for the rest of her life, no matter how kind the Gabriels had been.
“I have to get away from here. Start fresh.” Without warning the words she’d long held back were spoken aloud into the quiet daylight. But she had no plan. No place to go. No way to earn a living—except the way she had in the past.
She choked back a sob, not for herself but for her daughter. What if the type of public humiliation she’d suffered today happened a few years from now when her baby girl could understand what was being said about her mother?
Noah’s questions came back to her, and she felt a stab of envy that the man was free to simply pick up and start again somewhere new on his own. Sunny did not have that luxury. What am I going to do?
* * *
Noah slowly led his horse up the familiar lane, to the place he called home, but which really wasn’t home anymore. Sunny’s face lingered in his mind—so pretty and somehow still graced with a tinge of innocence.
Ahead, he saw his father and two of his brothers. His brothers stopped unloading the wagon and headed toward him. Not his father. He stared at Noah and then turned his back and stalked to the barn.
This galled Noah, but he pushed it down. Then he recalled how that man on Main Street had touched Sunny without any fear. It galled him to his core, too. She had no one to protect her. The man had been right; the Gabriels would not fight for her. The idea that had played through his mind over the past few months pushed forward again.
His eldest brother reached him first. “You came back.” He gripped Noah’s hand.
“I’m home.” For now. His other brothers shook his hand in welcome, none of them asking about his trip, afraid of what he’d say, no doubt.
“Don’t take it personally,” his eldest brother said, apologizing for their father’s lack of welcome with a nod toward the barn.
“It is meant personally,” Noah replied. “He will never forgive me for disagreeing with him and going to war.” Noah held up his hand. “Don’t make excuses for him. He’s not going to change.”
His brothers shifted uncomfortably on their feet, not willing to agree or disagree. They were caught in the middle.
But not for long. Meeting Sunny in town exactly when he’d come home and seeing her shamed in public had solidified his purpose. She needed his protection an
d he could provide it. But would she accept him?
* * *
Feeling like a counterfeit, Sunny perched on the backless bench in the quiet Quaker meeting for another Sunday morning of worship she didn’t understand. She sat near the back on the women’s side beside Constance Gabriel, who had taught Sunny to be still here and let the Inner Light lead her.
But how did that feel? Was she supposed to be feeling something besides bone-aching hopelessness?
Little Dawn stirred in her arms and Sunny patted her six-month-old daughter, soothing her to be quiet. I’ve brought this shame upon my daughter as surely as my mother brought it onto me. She pushed the tormenting thought back, rocking slightly on the hard bench not just to comfort Dawn, but herself, as well.
The door behind her opened, the sound magnified by the silence within. Even the devout turned their heads to glimpse who’d broken their peace.
He came. Awareness whispered through Sunny as Noah Whitmore stalked to the men’s side and sat down near, but still a bit apart from, his father and five older brothers. Today he was wearing his Sunday best like everyone else. His expression was stormy, determined.
Dawn woke in her arms and yawned. She was a sweet-tempered child, and as pretty as anything with reddish-blond hair and big blue eyes. As Sunny smiled down at her, an old, heartbreaking thought stung her. I don’t even know who your father is. Sunny closed her eyes and absorbed the full weight of her wretchedness, thankful no one could hear what was in her mind.
Noah Whitmore rose. This was not uncommon—the Quaker worship consisted of people rising to recite, discuss or quote scripture. However, in her time here, Noah had never risen. The stillness around Sunny became alert, sharp. Everyone looked at him. Unaccountably reluctant to meet his gaze, she lowered her eyes.
“You all know that I’ve been away,” Noah said, his voice growing firmer with each word. The congregation palpably absorbed this unexpected, unconventional announcement. In any other church, whispering might have broken out. Here, though, only shuttered glances and even keener concentration followed.
