No Place for a Lady (Heart of the West Book #1): A Novel

by Brendan, Maggie

  NO

  PLACE

  FOR A Lady

  NO

  PLACE

  FOR A Lady

  A N OVEL

  MAGGIE BRENDAN

  ©2009 by Maggie Brendan

  Published by Revell

  a division of Baker Publishing Group

  P.O. Box 6287

  Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287

  www.revellbooks.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Brendan, Maggie, 1949–

  No place for a lady : a novel / Maggie Brendan.

  p. cm. — (Heart of the West ; bk. 1)

  ISBN 978-0-8007-3335-3 (pbk.)

  I. Title.

  PS3602.R4485N6 2009

  813′.6—dc22 2008032933

  Unless otherwise indicated, Scripture is taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  Scripture marked NIV is taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIO NAL VERSION ®. NIV ®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  In memory of Jerry O’Neal, aka Jess McCreede, better known

  as Gary to me—my mentor, dearest brother, and friend. Not

  a day goes by that you don’t cross my mind.

  Table Of Contents

  Acknowledgments

  1

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  11

  12

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  1

  Acknowledgments

  I’d like to express my deep appreciation to my best friend and critique partner, Kelly Long. There are no words to articulate what you mean to me, especially as my friend, and what your support of my writing, your prayers, and your encouragement mean. Many thanks to Caroline Friday for her encouragement, friendship, and humor. You’ve kept me laughing!

  I must acknowledge the ACF W (American Christian Fiction Writers). In the last four years I’ve learned so much from them and the two fantastic conferences that I attended. The talent and support of the ACF W writer’s loop is just incredible, and I’m proud to be a part of it. I’m grateful to DiAnn Mills for her consideration of me when I missed my first critique appointment at the Denver conference, and her critique guidance. A warm thanks to Brandilyn Collins, my conference mentor who prayed over me, and Colleen Coble, who told me to dream big!

  Many thanks to Jennifer Schuchmann, a talented writer in her own right, who convinced me to submit my writing and urged me to attend writer’s workshops. Thank you, Jen.

  A special thanks to my agent, Tamela Hancock Murray, who believed in my book; Revell Books for allowing my story to come to life; and my insightful editors, Andrea Doering and Jessica Miles. Lots of hugs to Dottie, Barbara, and Sarah Sue of The Bookmark at Johnson Ferry Baptist Church for their love, prayers, and encouragement. Also, sincere thanks to Jan Tilton, the Johnson Ferry Prayer Room, and my friends of the JFBC sanctuary choir. You’re the greatest!

  I’m so grateful for my children, Sheri and Jared, who told me that I can do just about anything that I set my mind to! Their amazing feedback and belief in me was extremely important. I love you both. My dear daughter-in-law, Amy, made each writing week sweeter by bringing little Sarah for visits to keep me in the “real” world. You’re both precious to me.

  A heartfelt thanks to my husband, Bruce, who believed that I could do it and kept the technical side running smoothly for me. Thank you for telling me again and again what a good writer I am.

  Sylvia, thanks for telling me to reach for the stars and for reminding me that Jess would be proud. And to my dear niece, Halle, you know what your encouragement means to me. I love you. Without your dad’s support throughout my life, I don’t know where I would be today. My gratitude knows no bounds when it comes to him, and I miss him deeply.

  A special thanks to my O’Neal family, my grandchildren, and all my incredible extended family. What a blessing all of you are to me.

  I couldn’t end this without acknowledging the gift of writing that God has blessed me with. I’m amazed that You love me!

  “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to give you hope and a future.”

  Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV)

  1

  June 1892

  The Yampa Valley, Colorado

  Crystal Clark gripped the side of the bouncing buckboard to keep from tumbling onto the rocky roadbed below. From the first moment she’d left home she’d been wondering if she’d done the right thing by coming to Colorado. Maybe she should have remained in Georgia. At least there she knew what to expect. Out here the only person she knew was her aunt. Crystal had once thought her life was almost perfect, but in an instant, her father’s death had changed everything that she thought secure.

  Rusty, her aunt’s driver, had been waiting in Steamboat Springs when she stepped off the stage. Now he pulled hard on the reins and stopped the horses on a rise that overlooked the Yampa Valley. “Thought you might want to take a minute, enjoy the view up here.”

  Crystal gazed at the unfolding vista resplendent with flaming Indian paintbrush and chickweed. Mountains loomed ahead. “What a breathtaking sight,” she said, coughing as dust filled her throat and nostrils. Sweat ran in tiny rivulets down her back beneath her fitted corset and slithered its way down her clinging stockings into her snug-fitting heels. Despite these momentary inconveniences, Crystal could only think about her heartache.

  “It’s mighty pretty from up on this here rise.” He grinned. “I knew the minute Kate sent me to fetch you that you were gonna like it here, ma’am.”

  Like it here? she thought.

  Still, Crystal felt her lips turn up at the edges. Despite everything she’d been through, Rusty seemed to have the ability to make her smile.

  “Kate said you’re coming here to stay,” he added.

  Crystal frowned. She didn’t know what she would be doing with her future, but in truth, she felt she had no alternative but to stay.

  “I don’t know about staying . . . That depends on a lot of things.” Crystal thought the old-timer a bit nosy for all his charm.

  “So, missy, what’d ya think of the mountains? Ain’t they some-thin’?”

  “They are so majestic, Rusty. God made beauty everywhere, didn’t He?”

  “For a fact, ma’am. He did, He sure did.” He scratched his scruffy beard with his free hand. “It’ll be mighty nice to have a young person of the female persuasion around for a change. Being with cowboys all the time can wear on a man after a while.” He chuckled.

  “Right now, I’m afraid that I’m just tired and looking forward to a good night’s sleep.”

  “I hear you’re from Geor
gia. When’d you start out?” Rusty asked.

  Crystal sighed. “Nearly two weeks ago.” Thinking back on it made her appreciate the settlers who had first come to this wild land years ago. “At Kansas I boarded the Rio Grande, which took me to Denver. From there I took the Colorado Central and Pacific narrow gauge railroad to Central City. Believe me, I was leaning as far back in my seat as possible when the engine hugged the edge of the mountains to start down. From Central City, I had to travel the rest of the way by stagecoach.” Crystal closed her eyes and thought back to how scared she had been when the stagecoach crossed over the Continental Divide and then labored over Rabbit Ears Pass. “I had trouble breathing up there and had a headache as well.”

  “I know what you mean, missy.”

  Inspired by the vastness of the beautiful valley nestled below the majestic snowcapped Rocky Mountains, Crystal soon forgot about her aching and stiff muscles. “Aunt Kate’s description of Colorado was accurate. This is very different from what I’m used to.”

  “So tell me, what is it like in Georgia? I’ve never traveled farther south than Denver,” Rusty said.

  “Well, it’s heaven on earth to me. But you might find it strange. It’s not wide open like it is here, and we have lots of beautiful trees. Magnolias, dogwoods, oaks, and a variety of azaleas. Throw in humidity and you’ll get an idea of what it’s like.”

  “What are azaleas?”

  “They’re bushes that bloom in early spring. Some are white, some are pink. Underneath the dogwood trees, they make a very pleasing picture.”

  She felt hot tears spring behind her eyelids. Just talking about home made her chest tight. The day she had to sign the deed over to the bank, Crystal thought her heart would break. No one, not even Drew, had stepped in to help straighten out her finances.

  Although Drew wanted to marry her, something in her heart told Crystal that she did not feel as deeply for him as he did for her. Maybe time apart from Drew would give her a chance to know for sure what God had planned for her.

  The old-timer interrupted her meditations as his strong, capable hands flicked the reins and guided the horses into the valley floor. “It sounds beautiful.”

  Crystal couldn’t bear to keep talking about Georgia, and she changed the subject. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen Aunt Kate. But I have so many fond memories of her visits to Georgia. When she wrote, asking me to come for a visit, I wired her the same day and packed my bags. But I wasn’t sure what to expect.”

  “Well, good for you. We’ll do our best to see you have a fine visit. Not much longer now, missy. And it won’t always be this hot and dry, either. Reckon this is a shore sign of frost. Snow flies in September, sometimes late August here in the valley. Soon the pass will close.”

  Crystal glanced at the man’s profile. Lines crinkled around his mouth on his weather-beaten face. He smiled at her, removed his hat, and mopped his brow with a handkerchief. His thick red hair swirled around his head like a flame whipped by the wind. Rusty replaced his hat and stuffed his handkerchief into his shirt pocket.

  Crystal smiled back weakly and sighed. “The closest thing to snow I’ve seen in Georgia was flurries before a January ice storm. Tell me about the snow here. What’s it like?”

  “The winters here can be long and hard, especially on the livestock. I remember the blizzard of’87 that me and Kate weathered together. Your uncle had died two years before, you know. We had very little supplies to see us through. For ten days the world stood still, and the snow was six feet deep in places. Drifts reached to the roof of the house. That year most of the cattle either froze or starved to death.” He paused in his ruminating, and Crystal watched his face soften as he looked into the distance.

  “The cattle got lean because of the drought during the summer . . . So weak and defenseless, they didn’t have much of a chance. The snow so deep that our cowhands couldn’t reach’em. We hadn’t counted on a summer drought with bitter snowfall on its heels. Our thermometer broke when it got thirty below. Kate read later on in the Steamboat Pilot that Montana recorded a minus forty-six degrees. Not sure what it was here.”

  Crystal shuddered. “Why in heaven’s name would a person stay way out here, away from civilization, with a bunch of cows during a snowstorm in the first place?”

  Rusty chuckled. “Maybe you’ll change your mind after you’re here a spell. This here is God’s country.”

  “Sounds perfectly miserable to me.” Crystal twirled her parasol, fanning her hot cheeks with a white lacy handkerchief. As far as she knew, the entire world was God’s country, but she understood what he meant. Crystal felt that way about Georgia. Oh well, it will just be a visit until I can figure out what I need to do.

  Late afternoon sun filtered through the ponderosa pine, lending a dappling effect to the surrounding junipers, sagebrush, and violet alpine asters.

  “There’s Aspengold. Your aunt’s ranch was named after those shimmering trees in that grove to the rear of the house.” Rusty pointed to a rustic, sprawling ranch house.

  Crystal followed the direction of his finger. The ranch was nothing like she expected. Unlike her father’s beautiful cotton plantation home with its huge white columns framed by giant oak trees, Aspengold was a low, almost flat log house with a porch running its full length. Not far from the house were corrals, a barn, and a smaller version of the main house, which Crystal guessed must be the bunkhouse from her aunt’s descriptive letters. The trees of white bark laden with black boles were nestled near the porch. The small, quaking leaves seeming to wave their greeting in the afternoon sunlight.

  “Carmen’s spotted us.” Rusty flicked the reins on the horses’rumps, and they snapped into a trot toward the ranch. In the distance, dogs started barking at the sound of the wagon rumbling down the dirt road.

  Crystal saw a woman in a full red skirt run back into the house, then reappear with another woman whom she recognized as her aunt Kate. Crystal felt her chest tighten again. How in the world was she going to fit in with these folks and their simple life? Maybe it wouldn’t be for long—and maybe she’d think again about Drew.

  As Rusty brought the wagon to a standstill in front of the veranda, the dogs yapped, and several cowboys appeared and swept off their hats in greeting. The tallest cowboy reached up to lift Crystal down, and she felt herself swing to the ground as though she were nothing more than a child. The cowboy towered above Crystal. She glimpsed confederate-blue eyes underneath dark eyebrows and thin lips below a thick moustache. For the briefest moment, their eyes held, and Crystal felt strange at the warmth of his hands holding her waist. Releasing her, he bowed with a ridiculous grin on his face.

  Kate grabbed her niece and kissed her on the cheek. “Crystal, it sure is good to see you. You’re a sight for sore eyes, girl.” Kate pulled back. “Let me get a good look at you. I declare! You’ve grown up on me. The spittin’image of your ma.”

  Crystal felt her face turning pink. “It’s so wonderful to see you too. It’s been too long, hasn’t it?” Crystal smoothed the wrinkles of her skirt. “After that long, dirty ride, I must look a mess.” She pushed a few loose strands of dark, wavy hair back, knowing her face was dirt-streaked.

  She looked up into Kate’s soft and full face, with hair grayer than she remembered four years ago. Kate Morgan was in her late forties, a strong, determined woman whose tall frame and husky voice made her appear almost mannish. But Crystal knew that there wasn’t a bigger heart in all of Colorado than her aunt’s.

  Pulling Crystal forward by the elbow, Kate beamed with pride and announced, “This is my niece, Crystal Clark, and I want all of you to make her feel welcome.” Kate gestured toward the tall cowboy who had helped Crystal down from the wagon. “Meet Luke Weber—he’s my foreman.”

  “Ma’am.” Luke touched the brim of his hat for a split second. Crystal noticed that he did not remove his hat. So ungentlemanly. She stood straight and prim. “I’m glad to make your acquaintance.” Crystal lowered her voice to a softer
pitch, tilting her head up to look at Luke. She felt a little uneasy under his steady gaze but returned it with her own.

  Standing well over six foot, Luke’s tall, lean frame belied his well-developed muscles suggesting years of working outdoors. A red bandana was knotted around his neck, and a blue chambray shirt reflected the color of his eyes. Dusty black boots, a little the worse for wear, held spurs at the heel, making a slight jingling noise each time he shifted his weight.

  “And these here boys are Curly, Jube, and Kurt, the best ranch hands in these parts,” Kate said.

  Crystal turned to greet Curly, who was obviously named for his head of tight golden curls. Curly wiped his hands on his large bandana before he stepped toward her. He smiled. “Howdy.”

  Crystal smiled back. “Hello.”

  Jube kicked at a rock with the toe of his boot and, without looking directly at her, muttered hello, blushing to the roots of his scalp.

  Kurt nudged between the two of them and took Crystal’s hand to kiss it. “A real pleasure, ma’am,” he said without releasing her hand, “to meet a Southern belle, and a most exquisite one at that.”

  Crystal noted his obvious good manners and Eastern accent, but she pulled her hand away from his. “It’s my pleasure to meet y’all.” They were quite a grubby band of boyish riders to her way of thinking, and she couldn’t help but notice that they all wore spurs. What a racket.

  “What y’all gawking at?” Kate gestured with her arms and fanned herself with her apron. “Rusty, get those bags in. Carmen, please bring us a glass of cool lemonade as soon as Crystal’s freshened up a bit. I’m sure she’s about to parch. Crystal, this is Carmen.” Kate pulled forward a lovely Mexican girl, who flashed a suspicious look from her brooding dark eyes. Her large silver earrings glinted in the sunlight.

  “Sí, señora.” Carmen turned on her bare feet to do Kate’s bidding. Jube stepped up to help Rusty unload Crystal’s suitcases. Curly and Kurt carried them to the porch, and the worn planks creaked under their weight. Luke stared at the big trunk and threw Rusty a quizzical look, but Rusty just rolled his eyes upward.