White River Dreams ©2011 by Frances Devine
White River Song © 2011 by Frances Devine
White River Sunrise © 2011 by Frances Devine
Print ISBN 978-1-63058-177-0
eBook Editions:
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-63058-542-6
Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-63058-543-3
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.
All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author ’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
Published by Barbour Books, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.barbourbooks.com
Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.
Printed in the United States of America.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
About the Author
White River Dreams
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
White River Song
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
White River Sunrise
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Frances L. Devine grew up in the great state of Texas, where she wrote her first story at the age of nine. She moved to Southwest Missouri more than twenty years ago and fell in love with the hills, the fall colors, and Silver Dollar City. Frances has always loved to read and considers herself blessed to have the opportunity to write in her favorite genre. She is the mother of seven adult children and has fourteen wonderful grandchildren.
White River Dreams
Dedication
Lovingly dedicated to those early settlers who paved a path to a world they couldn’t have even imagined. Thank you for Branson and for my favorite theme park, Silver Dollar City. I wish to thank my friends and family who encourage me every day. Thanks to Aaron McCarver. What would I do without your excellent editing? Special thanks to my editor, JoAnne Simmons, for being so supportive.
Chapter 1
Missouri Ozarks, May 1889
Alexandra Rayton tilted the tin dipper and poured lukewarm water down her parched throat. She glanced across the half-plowed field to make sure her brother and aunt weren’t looking her way, then unfastened the top button of her dress and poured the rest of the tepid liquid down the front, not caring that it soaked through her chemise. A shiver passed over her skin, scorched from the hot sun. Too hot for the end of May in Missouri. She would love to push her cotton sleeves up more, but Aunt Kate would be shocked and let her know about it, in no uncertain terms. She looked up and lifted her hand against the glare of the noonday sun. If only the tiniest of clouds would cast its shadow even for a moment.
“Lexie! Bring me some of that water. What’cha tryin’ to do? Keep it all to yerself?”
“Oh hush up, Will. Give me time.” Lifting the heavy bucket, she carried it over to where her brother leaned on the plow and handed him the dipper.
He took a long drink and refilled the dipper, frowning at Lexie’s soaked bodice. “What did you do, take a bath in it? We better not run out of water before we’re done planting these tomater seedlins’, or you can go to the creek and fetch more.”
“Humph. I wonder what Miss Sarah Jenkins would think if she heard you talking to me like that. Think she’d still want to marry the likes of you?”
Will snickered and upended the dipper, sending a cascade of water over his sweaty shirt. “My sweet Sarah Jane’s mighty took with me. Ain’t nothin’ I could say or do would change her mind.”
“Is that so? All I can say is the woman must be mighty desperate for a man.” Grinning, she bolted down the row and into the woods before her brother could drop the dipper back in the bucket and take off after her.
“Alexandra Marie Rayton, stop that tomfoolery and start doing your job.” Aunt Kate’s voice, carried by the wind, rang familiar and safe to Lexie’s ears.
“All right, Aunt Kate. Be there in a minute.” Her voice echoed through the tall oaks that circled the field on three sides. Dropping onto a carpet of thick, green grass, she leaned back against an ancient tree trunk. The sounds of the nearby White River rippled over her mind, and birdsong mingled with the rush of flowing water. She should get back to the field, but the tomato seedlings would wait a few minutes. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the wave of drowsiness. She’d just rest for a moment. She wouldn’t daydream.
Will would be getting married soon, and they wouldn’t really need her on the farm, would they? Of course, Uncle James’s death last year had hit Aunt Kate really hard, but she was doing well now and didn’t really need Lexie. Wasn’t this the perfect time to leave? Surely she could find a job in a café or boardinghouse. She could cook and clean as well as any other woman she knew. Of course, Aunt Kate would be sure to throw a fit if she went to work at Marmoros with the rough miners running around the place. Besides, no woman in the Rayton family had ever worked outside the home. Not Aunt Kate and not Mama.
Lexie flinched. Would the pain ever go away? Eight years. She’d been nineteen and Will fourteen when Mama and Papa died in the accident. The sheriff said something must have frightened the horses, causing them to bolt and run. There wasn’t much left of the turned-over buckboard they’d found at the bottom of a ravine. Funny how little she remembered about the trip by wagon and steamboat from Oklahoma.
A sigh pushed its way out from way down inside her, and she clenched her teeth against the pain. Aunt Kate and Uncle James had been wonderful to her and Will. But Lexie didn’t want to spend the rest of her life on a farm. And she wasn’t getting any younger. Twenty-seven in two months. She reached up and ran a hand across her cheek. Did her face show her age?
“Alexandra Marie!”
Lexie jumped up and crammed her bonnet back on her head, confining the thick black curls once more. She walked back to the field and threw what she hoped was an apologetic smile at her aunt. She’d done it again. Gotten lost in daydreams.
The earth felt cool against her hands and fingers as she packed it around the tomato plants. Not like it had been in the hot, dry dirt of Oklahoma. Oh, but she’d trade it in a minute if it would bring Mama and Papa back.
The planting went quickly with all three of them working, and the afternoon sun was still halfway up the horizon when the two women headed for the house, leaving Will to take care of the mule.
Lexie sniffed in appreciation at the aroma that met them as they stepped up on the back stoop of the log cabin. The stew had simmered on the stove since noon and would be perfectly tender and succulent in another hour.
They went into the small mudroom, and Lexie’s thoughts wandered as she poured water from a pitcher over Aunt Kate’s hands.
The little patchwork bag in her bedroom had been Mama’s, but now it contained all the money Lexie had managed to save from the tomato canning over the past few years. Surely it was enough to give her a start.…
“Lexie, pay attention. You’re spilling water,” Aunt Kate sputtered. “What in the world is wrong with you?”
“I’m sorry. Here’s the towel.”
Lexie washed up and followed her aunt into the kitchen.
“Aunt Kate…” Lexie cleared her throat. “I’ve been thinking maybe I should get me a job in Marmoros.”
“What?” The apron her aunt had picked up slipped from her fingers. “Why would you want to do that? This farm provides a good enough living without you working for someone else, doesn’t it? More than enough for the three of us and Sarah, too.”
“Yes, of course it does.”
“I can give you more money from the tomato sales this summer.”
“Oh no, I have plenty. It isn’t that at all…you know I appreciate all you’ve done for Will and me since Mama and Papa died. And I think it’s wonderful of you to add Will’s name to the farm deed. But I can’t let you or him take care of me forever, and now with Will getting married soon, I want to be on my own.” This wasn’t coming out right. How could she put something in words she didn’t really understand herself? “I wouldn’t be that far away.”
Aunt Kate opened her mouth then clamped it shut. Oh dear, she wasn’t happy at all. Would she forbid Lexie to get a job? “That there mining town isn’t fit for a woman to walk in, much less work in. Saloons and such. The very idea. Why, I can hear their drunken brawls every Saturday night.”
“I’ve never seen a saloon there. I think that’s just a rumor someone started.”
At her aunt’s stare, Lexie swallowed. The noise from the saloon had carried, no denying that. The men who worked in the Marble Cave frequented it. And that was no rumor. “Well then, perhaps when I go into Forsyth for supplies next month I could check things out there.”
“Forsyth? Why in the world would you want to go there? You can get everything we need at the general store.”
“Now, Aunt Kate, you know the mining town cleans out most all of Mr. Hawkins’ supplies.”
Aunt Kate sighed. “Why can’t Will fetch the supplies? I don’t like the idea of you going into Forsyth alone.” A worried frown puckered Aunt Kate’s face. “Not that it’s a bad town, but it has its share of riffraff.”
“You know Will is going to be busy in the fields. I won’t go near the boat landing. I’ll wait until they unload and supply the stores. I promise, although it would be faster and cheaper to buy directly from the boats.”
Lexie cringed as Aunt Kate sighed deeply. “You’re a grown woman. I can’t tell you what to do. But I wish you would think about this job thing.”
“I have thought of it.” Thought of nothing much else lately, in fact. “And I truly think this is what I should do.”
Aunt Kate peered at Lexie, who lowered her lashes and bit her lip. “Humph. It sounds to me you have your mind made up already.”
Warmth flooded Lexie’s face.
Her aunt nodded. “Uh-huh. Well, like I said, you’re a grown woman. I can’t tell you what you can or can’t do.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why you can’t just marry Dan Wells or Tom Powers. They’ve been nosing around here long enough, and Lord knows you aren’t getting any younger.”
Lexie stiffened. She’d be hogswaggled if she’d marry the likes of one of those two and end up on a farm the rest of her life. She’d rather be an old maid.
Aunt Kate sniffed. “Sure hope you don’t make a mistake.”
A niggle of doubt wormed its way into Lexie’s thoughts. What if she was making a mistake? She pressed her lips together and lifted her chin. So what if she was? What did she have to lose? She could always come back if things didn’t work out. Lexie shuddered. No, that didn’t bear thinking of. This was probably her last chance for a life of her own.
The morning air, caressing Lexie’s face, was deliciously cool for the month of June. The fragrance of summer flowers wafted from the fields as she drove along beside the White River. Her favorite time of the day. And how she loved being so close to the rushing water. She’d like to take her time and enjoy the sights and scents of the countryside, but she couldn’t dally if she wanted to get to Forsyth, buy supplies, and make it back before dusk.
She flicked the reins, and Jolly, their little gray mare, picked up speed. The mule would have been better for pulling the wagon over these hills, but Will needed Old Stubborn for the work.
She guided the mare away from the riverbank around a grove of walnut trees, and Mr. Hawkins’s general store came into view. Should she stop or not? It wouldn’t hurt to look and see what was still on his shelves. If she hurried, she could still make good time. Mr. Hawkins’s prices were sometimes lower than the ones in Forsyth. Maybe she could save a little.
Urging Jolly toward the store, she pulled up in front of the long, unoccupied hitching post. She gathered her skirts, climbed down, and tied the horse to the post.
A bell over the door clanged when she walked into the building. A little shiver of pleasure rippled through Lexie at the spicy scent of cinnamon and cloves blended with the aromas of cedar and oak. Mr. Hawkins wasn’t in sight, so she weaved her way through barrels of flour and sugar. Buckets labeled LARD stood in an aisle to her left. The very idea. It was sheer laziness to buy lard when anybody could render their own hog fat.
“Well, Miss Lexie, enjoying the nice day?” The proprietor limped a little as he made his way from the rear of the store and stepped up to her.
“Yes, Mr. Hawkins. How is business?” As if it wasn’t obvious.
“A little slow today, but I’ve been busy all week, in spite of the mine closing down.”
“The mine is closing? I hadn’t heard.”
“Yep. Guess they’re tired of mining bat manure.” He chuckled. “They must have been mighty disappointed when the cave didn’t have the marble they expected to find. ’Spect Marmoros will be a ghost town within a week. No one is likely to stay.”
So, the job in Marmoros was no longer an option. At least Aunt Kate would be able to sleep on Saturday nights. “Would it be all right if I look around a little?” she asked then hastened to add, “Of course I’ll purchase something.”
“Please browse all you like. Call me if you need anything.” He smiled, then turned and headed back to the rear of the room.
Mr. Hawkins was a good man. She’d pray that his business would prosper even if the mine was closing. After all, more settlers were moving into the area all the time since free land came up for grabs.
A splash of bright plaid caught her eye, and she glanced at the bolt of cloth expecting to see calico. Her breath caught in her throat. Silk. Real silk. She reached out and ran her hand gently across the smooth fabric. She swallowed past a lump in her throat and closed her eyes against the memory of the dress her mama had worn to the last harve
st ball before the accident. Tears burned her eyes, and she jerked them open at the same time she yanked her hand away from the cloth.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” She hadn’t heard Mr. Hawkins walk up, but there he stood, an open wooden crate full of tall bottles in his hands and a curious look on his face.
“Yes, sir. Very pretty.” She straightened her back and lifted her chin. “But dress goods aren’t on my list today.”
He nodded and walked behind the counter where he proceeded to place bottles of vanilla extract in a line on a narrow shelf. Now that was something that was on her list.
She continued through the store, checking prices, finding most of them lower than she was likely to find in Forsyth. “Well, thank you for allowing me to look, Mr. Hawkins. What time do you close today?” Lexie laid her hand on the counter, mentally tallying up what she’d need to buy in Forsyth and what she could get cheaper here.
“Five o’clock.” He raised his eyebrows. “Where are you heading?”
“I’m driving to Forsyth to get some of my supplies.” She blushed. “You don’t seem to have everything I need. But I’ll be back before you close and pick up what I can here.”
“Good. See you then.” He smiled warmly as he came from behind the counter and opened the door for her.
She started to follow, and her glance fell upon a notice on the wall behind the counter. HELP WANTED. Her heart jumped. Was it a sign? She gave a little laugh. No, of course not. If she worked here, she’d have to live at home and that would defeat her purpose. She headed toward the door.
“Miss Lexie.”
At the store owner’s voice, Lexie stopped and turned around.
“I noticed you looking at the sign. Would you by any chance know someone looking for part-time work?”
“What kind of work? You mean here in the store?”
“Yes, I expect to get mighty busy once tourists start flocking in.”
Tourists? Whatever was the man talking about?
“What tourists?” She frowned, hoping he wasn’t daft.
“Why, for the tours at Marble Cave. A man named Lynch bought the mine and all the land roundabout, including the town.”
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