In those agonizing moments, Silas tried to ascertain what Rose would have to say that would require such privacy. As much as he wanted to hope for something positive, he wasn’t sure he could face the alternative.
Her shoulders rose and fell, and Silas thought he saw her shake the tiniest bit. “You asked to court me, and I refused. I was wrong. But I think, at least on my end, courting now is pointless.”
Pointless. Silas swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. Will had said it wouldn’t be easy. He wasn’t going to lose heart. They had the whole ride back to talk.
“I’m sure you know that the purpose of courtship is to determine whether or not you’ll suit in marriage. I’ve already decided.”
Rose gave him another smile, then she bent down and whispered something in Milly’s ear.
Milly’s face brightened, bursting with so much joy he wasn’t sure such a tiny girl could contain it all. She ran in his direction.
“Rosey wants to be my mommy!”
Silas caught his daughter in her arms and picked her up. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” Rose said, nodding her head slowly, but Silas could tell her whole body was shaking.
“I thought the man was supposed to do the asking when it came to marriage.”
Rose grinned. “I’m sure we all know that I don’t do things the regular way. But you can ask me if it makes you feel any better. Besides, I don’t know if you still want to marry me.”
“Oh, I do,” Silas said, bridging the gap between them with long strides. “Rose, will you marry me?”
“I will.”
Silas bent down and kissed Rose, but as their lips touched, he felt Milly squirming in his arms. He looked down and noticed they’d pinned the children between them.
“It’s all right.” Rose batted her eyes at him the way she used to when they were younger. “We have the rest of our lives for that. Which will be starting soon. Because we’re getting married as soon as humanly possible so that you don’t have time to find another bride.”
“Not a chance,” Silas said, kissing her again, mindful of the children, and setting Milly on the ground. “I’m not letting you get away this time.”
“Hey!” Milly tugged on his pant leg. “Dat’s my Rosey!”
They pulled apart and looked down at the indignant little girl.
Silas knelt before his daughter. “If she’s going to be your mommy, she has to become my wife. So you’re going to have to share.”
Milly appeared to consider his words for a moment. “Like wif Ma-few?”
“Exactly like that,” Rose said, shifting the baby in her arms as she bent down to the little girl. “And with any other babies that happen to come along.”
Her eyes twinkled as she looked up at Silas.
“You just asked me to marry you. Now you’re telling me you want more babies?” He laughed as he shook his head. “You are something else, Rose Stone.”
She grinned. “It’ll be Rose Jones soon enough. Besides, didn’t you tell me you wanted a large family because you disliked growing up without siblings? So let’s get in that wagon and head for home. I’ve got a wedding to plan.”
Knowing Rose, she probably already had it all planned out. And he wasn’t going to argue. He’d waited long enough to make her his wife. While some might complain about the ups and downs that brought them there, Silas had nothing but gratitude for a journey that had made them both better versions of the couple that had originally fallen in love.
Epilogue
Three years later
Rose smoothed the back of Milly’s hair one last time before her grandparents arrived. The Garretts couldn’t handle Leadville winters, but they’d taken to coming for a visit every summer. At five, Milly had started learning to write enough that she could sign her name on the letters Rose regularly sent to them, updating them on Milly’s progress.
“Mama! Stop messing with my hair!” Milly scowled at her as Rose stepped away.
“All right. I’m sorry. If you didn’t like playing in the mud with the others so much, I wouldn’t have to.” Rose held up a leaf. “How did this even get there?”
Milly shrugged as the door opened.
“They’re here!”
They’d barely entered the house, Silas following behind with their bags, when Milly barreled toward them. “Grandmother! Grandfather!”
“Milly!” Mrs. Garrett, rather, Constance, as she had asked Rose to call her, wrapped her arms around her granddaughter.
“My, you’ve grown!”
“I eat all my vegetables,” Milly said proudly. “And guess what?”
She looked eagerly at her grandparents. “You—” she pointed to her grandfather “—are grandpère. And you—” Milly pointed at her grandmother “—are grandmère.”
Then Milly turned and smiled at Rose. “Mama’s new friend at the mission is from France. She is teaching me French. Mama says you will be so pleased.”
“We are.” Constance gave Rose a smile. “She is growing into a lovely young lady. Thank you for letting us visit.”
“You’re very welcome.” Rose stepped forward and hugged both Garretts. “We’re so happy you’re here.”
As soon as Rose finished greeting the Garretts, Milly took them by the hands and pulled them into the parlor. While Milly continued chattering at her grandparents, Silas came and put an arm around Rose. “She is something else. It’ll be nice for her to talk their ears off for a change.”
“That it will be.” Rose yawned.
“Tired?”
She nodded. “Hope was restless last night. When I finally got her to sleep, Matthew woke up from a nightmare, so then I had to comfort him. It felt like I’d barely gotten to sleep when I had to get up this morning.”
Silas kissed the top of her head. “I didn’t even hear the baby. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. I managed.”
With a grin, Silas nodded in the direction of the Garretts. “Speaking of managing, they seem to be doing fine with Milly. We could go upstairs for a while, and—”
“Silas Jones!”
“What?” His eyes twinkled. “I was just suggesting a nap.”
Rose gave him a quick kiss. “I’m sure you were. But we’ve got family to catch up with, and Maddie will be serving supper soon. I think she’s invited Flora, and I have no doubt that everyone else in our family will be straggling in at some point, as well.”
Flora had made good on her promise to help out at the church, and to refrain from making disparaging comments about others. In fact, Rose had noticed her taking other girls under her wing and making sure they understood that in their society, gossip was unacceptable.
Silas let out a long exaggerated sigh. “All right.”
As they watched Milly chatting animatedly with her grandparents, Rose couldn’t help the joy rising up in her.
Though there were some who still whispered about Rose’s fall from grace, most people had long forgotten that Matthew wasn’t Silas’s natural son. As Rose’s standing in society grew, she’d come to learn of other women who’d also risen above past mistakes, and that Maddie wasn’t the only former working girl who’d gained respectability. Proof that what you did in the past only defined you if you let it. Which was the only reason most people even knew of Rose’s past. She’d found it helped the women they encountered in their ministry know that regardless of their mistakes, God could use them for something bigger.
In all of her girlhood dreams of becoming Mrs. Silas Jones, she’d never imagined that the reality would be so much better. The pain she’d suffered was worth the depth of love and respect she’d found with the man looking at her with such a loving gaze.
“What’s that look for?” she asked, tucking her arm in his.
“Just th
inking about how much I love you, and how grateful I am for all you do to make our family whole.”
He nodded in Milly’s direction, then turned his gaze back on Rose. He didn’t have to say the words because she saw the love shining in his eyes.
“And I love you,” Rose said softly as she reached up to kiss him again.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed Rose’s book,
pick up the stories of Rose’s friends and family,
also set in Leadville, Colorado:
ROCKY MOUNTAIN DREAMS
THE LAWMAN’S REDEMPTION
SHOTGUN MARRIAGE
THE NANNY’S LITTLE MATCHMAKERS
Available now from Love Inspired!
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Keep reading for an excerpt from RESCUING THE RUNAWAY BRIDE by Bonnie Navarro.
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Dear Reader,
Some books are easier to write than others, and I’m going to go on record as saying this was one of the hardest. Bringing redemption to Rose was the easy part; the difficulty was realizing that the lesson about forgiveness was more than just her forgiving Silas for breaking her heart. Forgiveness seems to be an easy task, but as anyone who has struggled with forgiveness can tell you, it sometimes takes a lot more than saying, “I forgive you.” Writing Rose’s story forced me to look at places in my own heart where I’d been struggling to forgive, and I knew I couldn’t do her story justice unless I was willing to take a journey through my own unforgivingness.
If you’re like me, and there are things in your life that you’ve struggled to let go of, don’t lose heart! I’ve learned that the regions of the heart where forgiveness needs to permeate resemble the layers of the earth. Some are thin, porous, and water has no trouble finding its way to the deeper layers. Other areas are thick, dense rock, seemingly impenetrable. But nothing is impossible with God’s love, and ultimately, even the hardest of hearts can experience forgiveness at the very core.
Obviously, though I’ve poured my heart into this book, and shared a little about God’s work in me in this letter, there is so much more I can say. If you’d like additional resources on forgiveness, please visit my website at danicafavorite.com and look for the section on forgiveness.
I always love hearing from my readers, so feel free to connect with me at the following places:
Website: danicafavorite.com.
Twitter: Twitter.com/danicafavorite.
Instagram: Instagram.com/danicafavorite.
Facebook: Facebook.com/danicafavoriteauthor.
Abundant blessings to you and yours,
Danica Favorite
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Rescuing the Runaway Bride
by Bonnie Navarro
Chapter One
Mid-January, 1842
Alta California, Territorio of México
Tightening the strap under her chin, she pushed the old wide sombrero back on her forehead as she looked out over the swift stream. Vicky tried to ignore a growing sense of foreboding. Or at least she attempted to as she refilled her canteen. She had never seen this stream before. The fact that she didn’t recognize it could mean only that she had somehow wandered off Hacienda Ruiz land.
Rubbing a gold crucifix between her numb fingers, she tried to pray once more to a God she wasn’t convinced listened. An icy shiver sent fear up her spine and made her tremble as she hauled herself back onto Tesoro’s back. She’d had the chills most of the morning as she had tried to find her way out of the woods. Papá would be furious with her when he finally made it home, not to mention José Luis, who had made her promise to come back by midday if she didn’t catch up with Papá. But she had bigger concerns at the moment.
She’d chased after Papá, attempting to go with him to the secret meeting of the noblemen of the territory. She had to convince him to stop the plans for her wedding to Don Joaquín on her birthday. But the snow started to fall before she caught up to him and his men, and she was forced to take shelter in one of the rustic cabins on the outskirts of the hacienda, almost a full day’s ride from the main buildings. Somehow her journey brought her here, three days later, off hacienda lands and sick with a fever and no more provisions.
Tesoro, her best friend and true companion, shifted underneath her. “Que pasa, Tesoro?” Vicky asked the horse what she sensed, even as she patted Tesoro’s neck and urged her on downstream a few more feet. When Tesoro stopped and pawed the ground, a shudder passed through her, as well. They were no longer alone. Pulling her rifle out of its scabbard, she listened. Nothing. No sound. No bird singing or squirrels chirping. Utter silence. The wood’s way of warning about danger. Predators. Or strangers.
Then she saw him. An Americano from the looks of his dress and his hair, which she caught a glimpse of just before he shoved his hat back on his head. She’d never seen anyone with such golden hair before except for pictures in books. Even her mother, the fair-complected Crilloya, had dark brown hair. Vicky’s own dark skin came from her father’s native mother instead of his noble father’s lighter hair and skin.
Tesoro snorted and pawed the ground, but she didn’t turn away from the man downstream. Maybe he was lost, as well. Vicky sat straight in the saddle and watched him closely. Was he friend or foe? Considering she was off hacienda lands and not sure how to get back, she didn’t dare make contact.
Should she flee? She wasn’t sure she could stay in the saddle at a gallop. The fatigue she had felt all morning pulled at her like a millstone. She needed to find a place to stay for the night.
Vicky forced her attention back on the stranger. He might not be alone. Searching the area, she didn’t see any movement, but the spooky silence kept her frozen in place.
The man downstream crouched to examine something just as his horse shied away. A branch in the tree right above the man bowed. Crouched and ready to pounce was one of the world’s most magnificent and deadly creatures. Without much thought to her own safety, she dropped the canteen, pulled her rifle up and sighted in a blink of an eye, her knees communicating to Tesoro to get closer even though wisdom would dictate she escape as fast as she could. Her movements caught the predator’s attention, and its orange eyes fixed on her as it made ready to leap.
* * *
Chris couldn’t believe the size of the paw prints on the bank of the creek just to the east of his farm, or ranch, as they call
ed it in Alta California. They were almost as big as his hand. A few years before, he had killed a cougar trying to get into the barn, and its paws had been about the size of this one’s. That beast had weighed about three hundred pounds and taken down a yearling. No wonder the horses had been skittish the past two weeks.
“Thank You, Lord, for Your protection once again,” Chris heard himself say aloud. If the cat had found its way into the barn or come across him or Nana Ruth unsuspecting, it would have been bad—very bad.
Knowing was only half the battle. Last time he and Nana Ruth’s husband, Jebediah, had taken turns watching and caught the cat in the act—returning for a second helping of tender horse flesh. But Jeb had been killed last summer, and now protecting Nana Ruth and the ranch was all on Chris’s shoulders.
Years before, back on the plantation, his father would send the foreman and a hunting party of the slaves out to chase down anything that threatened the well-being of the livestock or the fields. Chris had lived his entire life as the spoiled son of the plantation owner, “preparing” to someday be the future master. He’d learned to do the books, barter the cotton, tobacco and peanuts, and see to a host of other responsibilities, but never did he have to get his hands dirty or risk any physical harm. That’s what the slaves had been for, until his father died and Chris gave them their freedom.
He would never again benefit off the labor of another man held in bondage. Nana Ruth and Jebediah had accepted their freedom but refused to leave him. Instead, they traveled west with him, not that the end result had turned out well for them.
As he bent down to inspect the prints, Comet shied behind him. Chris cocked an ear and noticed the silence was...too silent. In the six years he’d lived in Alta California, he’d learned to read the signs of the woods, and he knew that either his presence—or something else’s—was making the inhabitants of the area uncomfortable. He lifted his rifle and looked around closely.
Suddenly something heavy splashed into the creek. A few hundred feet to his right a young Indian boy, maybe fourteen or fifteen years old, rode into sight on a golden mare. With a fierce determination written across his face, the boy stopped his horse in the icy water and aimed a rifle at Chris. Indecision cost Chris valuable seconds while his mind fought the idea of shooting a boy, even in self-defense.
For the Sake of the Children Page 23
