GOODNIGHT KISSES
(prequel novella)
Wilhelmina Stolen
Goodnight Kisses is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
ISBN-10: 0-692-77127-1
ISBN-13: 978-0-692-77127-3
GOODNIGHT KISSES (prequel novella)
Wilhelmina Stolen
Copyright © 2016 by Wilhelmina Stolen
Cover design: Shannon Hayes
Edited by: Connie Kline
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations, reviews, and articles.
Second Edition August 2016
Table of Contents
Chapter One: The Start of Everything Good
Chapter Two: The Deal
Chapter Three: Goodnight Kisses
Chapter Four: A Lesson in Seduction
Chapter Five: The Proposal
About the Author
Acknowledgements
Many thanks, also, to Carter Link for his friendship and expert advice on the cowboy way of life.
GOODNIGHT KISSES
Wilhelmina Stolen
Chapter One
The Start of Everything Good
“McCrea is a brawler, a loose cannon,” Rose pushed the limp brim of her straw hat up and held her arm out for assistance. “And he has quite a reputation with the women.”
Eleanor took her grandma’s thin arm and gently lifted. A brawler? Yes. A loose cannon? He could be, and as for his reputation with women, she had her suspicions, but she refused to believe he was in any way a threat to her heart. Rose knew only the playboy side of the eldest Coldiron brother. The drinker, the fighter, the troubled rich kid everyone gossiped about, but Eleanor had, on many occasions seen a deeper, kinder side of McCrea. The side that dried tears, soothed fears, and stole hearts. That was the McCrea she fell in love with. The boy who had come to her rescue one rainy day when she was eight. So she held tight to her belief, defending McCrea as he had her. “Did Mildred tell you that?” she asked.
With her help, the old woman rose from her kneeling position alongside the Zinnia bed. “I know how you feel about him and rightly so. He’s a handsome boy, but Mildred said she heard he started a fight over some floozy.”
It was on the tip of Eleanor’s tongue to tell her grandma she was the floozy, and McCrea had chivalrously defended her just like her granddad would have. Instead, she pointed to the small white house across the road where the root of all gossip in Santa Camino lived. “Mouthy Mildred Satterfield is a busybody.”
She picked up the bucket of gardening tools and headed for the rusty green shed at the end of the driveway. “I don’t believe anything she has to say about McCrea or anybody else for that matter. Was she there? No, she wasn’t,” she pointed to her chest. “But I was. I was working that night.” If her grandma only knew Willard Moore had instigated the brawl which was now the talk of the town, “And it was just a fight. I don’t see what the big deal is.”
Rose studied the cracked sidewalk as she took slow, careful steps over to the porch. “Okay, don’t listen to me, God knows your mother never did.”
Here we go again! Eleanor tried her best to tune out her grandma’s voice. Agatha Rose Mackenna was the sweetest, most loving woman in the state of Texas. She loved her dearly, but if she heard her explain, in detail, one more time how she had begged her mother not to get mixed up with the boy she met at the bar, she might explode. Did her grandma realize she was the product of that mix-up?
For the past eleven years, Eleanor had called Santa Camino home, and the three Coldiron siblings and their cousin Dean, her neighbors. They were as close to her as her grandma, and felt more like her family than her biological mother and half-sister in New Mexico. Louisa was her best friend, and Jess and Dean were like the brothers she was never fortunate enough to have. Her relationship with McCrea, Louisa’s older brother, was a tad more complicated.
McCrea was an untouchable dream she had loved, and fantasized about since she was old enough to notice boys. It had taken years for her to give into her feelings for him, but her mother’s mistakes taught her never to let her heart go unguarded. So she fought the battle within. Loving him, but fearing what might happen if she ever gave in.
By the time she was back to the porch, Rose had made her way back to McCrea. “Don’t get me wrong. I like McCrea. He’s always a nice, well-mannered young man when he drops by or I see him in town. Wade wouldn’t have it any other way, but mark my words. That boy is a heartbreaker, and,” Rose sighed when her rear made contact with the porch, “Not the marrying kind.”
“God, Grandma. Marriage, again?” her groan was closer to a growl. “You know I don’t want to get hitched.”
“I know,” Rose’s mouth pressed down at the corners. “But I’m hoping that changes.”
“It won’t.”
“Don’t you dream of finding your one true love?” Her aged eyes sparkled with romance and hope. “Don’t you want someone to share your life with? Give you children?”
“No.” Her abrupt cutoff was more like a chomp. “You know what I dream about.”
Rose nodded with a lethargic nod that mimicked a wino. “I do.”
“My dream is to restore Redemption.” The ranch had been in her family for five generations and had once been a top notch breeding facility for horses. But without her granddad to oversee the day to day workings, it became too much for Rose to handle. The last of the breeding horses had been sold three years ago, leaving only a few work horses the hands used and Romeo Baby, a silver roan Quarter horse. Redemption’s profitable days were over, and nowadays, they skimped by with selling what cattle they had left.
The meadows were overgrown, the stables and barns were empty and the fences were rotting away with each passing year. “I want new stables filled with broodmares and studs, and the only offspring I’m interested in are the four-legged kind.”
That wasn’t completely true. She wanted a man to share her life with, someone who loved her with the same fierceness of Charlie’s love for Rose, and she wanted babies- lots of babies. But she couldn’t quite fit either into her dream. Babies were made with love and so far, McCrea was the only man to evoke that emotion from her guarded heart. And as sure as she was about being in love with McCrea, she was just as sure he wasn’t interested in bottles, babies and settling down.
“Yes, well, I am hoping that changes.” Rose shook her head. “I want to see you walk down the aisle before I meet my Maker.”
She made a snorting sound. “I doubt any of the men in Santa Camino would conform to my idea of raising a family without marriage, at least not the ones who are worth a damn.”
“Eleanor!”
“And any man who is brave enough to bid for my heart will have to do so without sliding a ring on my finger!”
“But─ but marriage is a sacred partnership ─.”
“It’s a trap! And hell will freeze solid before I vow myself into matrimonial bondage.”
“You make marriage seem so wretched.” Rose grimaced and raked silver wisps of hair from her damp face. “And it’s not. Not at all.”
“Our family is cursed when it comes to marriage,” she said, watching Rose’s mouth drop open.
“How can you say that?”
“Because it’s true.” Maybe she was stretching the truth for the sake of her argument, but she had had the misfortune of witnessing her mother’s failed one.
“Your granddad and I were married for fifty-
five years!” Rose slapped the porch with her palm. “And I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.”
Oh, to love like Charlie and Aggie Rose! Her inner romance delighted, while her practical heart chided, “Some people aren’t made for marriage.”
“True enough I suppose, but some are.”
“Mom wasn’t.” She sat down next to Rose and let the bitterness of her childhood claw its way to the surface. “What if I’m the same way? What if I marry the wrong guy? What if I marry someone like Rex?” The only father Eleanor had ever known was Rex Montgomery, the man her mother married before she was born. He resented Eleanor because she wasn’t his, and refused to give her anything that wasn’t a necessity, including his name.
“Oh, Eleanor, you won’t.” Rose patted her leg. “Just let your heart guide you. Don’t live in the past or the future, but rather in the moment. That’s what love is all about.”
The uncertainty of Rose’s logic ate at her, and she wanted to argue that wasn’t what love was about. It was about counting on someone to be there when you needed them. Giving and showing affection without coercion or manipulation. Love was about sacrifice and commitment, but arguing would upset her grandma. So she chose another route to prove her point. “I asked mom about my biological dad.”
The light in Rose’s eyes dimmed. She suspected the old woman knew more about the man than she would ever admit. “And what did she say?”
“That she loved him.” A bitter smile edged her lips. “The heart is known for its faulty guidance, Grandma. Mom is proof of that, and as for living in the moment.” She pushed back her windblown hair. “We both can see where that got her. Pregnant and alone.”
Rose closed her eyes briefly, bearing the pain of her daughter’s miserable life. “You are not Frances.”
“No, I’m not.” Pride made her agree even as her doubt took root and grew.
Rose gathered Eleanor’s hands in hers and held them tight. “If my Charlie were here, he would tell you marriage is a wonderful thing.”
According to Rose, the sun rose and set in her granddad and Eleanor knew her argument would never be won. “Can’t we just agree marriage is one subject we will never agree on?”
“McCrea is the spitting image of his granddad,” Rose said, ignoring the truce. “Wade was wild like that you know, hot-headed, unruly and a real ladies’ man.”
No, she didn’t know, and she was completely happy thinking of old man Wade as just that, an old man. She didn’t want to hear about how wild he and her granddad used to be. Or how handsome they looked or a hundred other things that just creeped her out. Some things were better left untold.
“But then he met Sophia.” Rose peered over her glasses, and her face softened with the glow of years passed. “Doe-eyed, soft-spoken Sophia had her work cut out for her, but she stuck with him. And she loved the wildness right out of Wade Coldiron.”
That wasn’t hard to imagine. The tiny, silver-haired woman they lost three years ago was capable of loving the wildness out of the devil himself, and Eleanor missed her with a magnitude she couldn’t express.
“Thank God your granddad wasn’t like that. Charlie was a heartbreaker in his own way, but he wasn’t a whore.”
The word brought Eleanor back to focus. Grandma Rose just said whore. She didn’t know whether to laugh or gag, and Rose continued as if the word meant nothing at all. “God, I was so in love with that man. I’ll never forget the day he brought me to Redemption and carried me over the threshold.”
Not knowing her own father made her hunger for a father figure, and she knew Charlie Mackenna would have made a difference in her life. A larger than life character from a Louis L’Amour novel, that’s the way she thought of him. Courageous, and brave. True to his word with a heart of gold. “I wish I had known granddad.”
“Me too,” Rose sighed with the thought. “He was handsome and strong like your McCrea. Okay,” she yielded. “I can handle having McCrea for a grandson-in-law.”
“Grandma,” Eleanor warned.
Rose’s playfulness dwindled away. “Just be careful, Eleanor. Marriage or not, all long lasting relationships are built on trust, faithfulness and commitment. Don’t settle for a physical relationship or anything less than love.”
A sharp penetrating pain shot the length of her body. What if she was in love with a man who would never love her or be faithful to her? What if Mildred and the rest of Santa Camino’s gossip mill were right about McCrea? What then?
“Now,” Rose clapped her hands as her eyes beamed with friskiness. “Let me give you some advice on how to catch him.”
Eleanor knew the story about the day her grandparents met. Their courtship and wedding. Rose told it often, and Eleanor was always eager to listen. It made her hopeful there were still men in the world like her granddad, and that maybe one day she would be loved with the same intensity. “The way you caught Granddad?”
“Don’t look so skeptical. Remember, I was your age once.” But Rose didn’t launch into her usual story. “First things first, does McCrea know how you feel about him?”
Of course not. She was no more than an orphan kitten he gently pushed out of his path on the way to the barn. How could she tell Rose that hurtful truth when the old woman had such expectation in her eyes? She couldn’t so she answered as best she could without specifics. “I thought he might have figured it out by now.”
Rose let out a laugh and winked. “Not likely. Men aren’t that intuitive. If you’re serious about that boy, you need to help him along.” Her grin turned wicked. “You know, show a little leg and cleavage.”
“Grandma!” Eleanor gasped.
Rose let out an infectious giggle which tapered off to a deep cleansing sigh. “Oh, it feels good to laugh.”
She jumped to her feet before Rose could divulge more of her tips on how to catch a man, and held out her hand. “Do you want me to help you inside before I go?”
“No. I don’t.” Rose pushed her hand away. “I’m going to rest for a spell and then get back at it.”
She worked nonstop in the yard from early spring to late fall. The woman was obsessed with flowers, but her perennials and bulbs were the envy of the garden club. “Maybe you shouldn’t do so much in this heat.”
“It’s therapy for the soul, honey.” That’s how Rose always explained gardening to her. “You should try pulling weeds and planting seeds.”
Shoveling out stables and tending to what livestock they had left didn’t give Eleanor much time for pulling weeds. “Maybe next summer.”
“Maybe,” Rose agreed.
“Do you need anything before I go?”
“If I do, I’ll get it. I’m old, not helpless. Go! Get out of here!” Rose ordered. Eleanor ran to the truck for her sunglasses and paused to look over her shoulder. Rose’s blue gloved hand waved back. The old woman looked so thin and frail. Forgoing college was a temptation, but it was an essential part of her plan to rebuild Redemption.
Dreaming wasn’t enough. She needed an education, to learn the ins and outs of running her own business. When she returned in four years, she would need money to rebuild, and a degree along with a strong business plan would help. One more look to satisfy her uneasiness and found Rose knee deep in a bed of Blackfoot Daisies. She could always come back to Redemption. After all, this was her home. “I’ll be back in time for supper,” she yelled and saw Rose nod.
She made a quick exit across the side yard and over to the fence that separated her family’s land from the Coldiron’s. At the top, she slipped on the shades to shield her eyes from the evening sun, and marveled at the view. This was her last week at home, and she intended to enjoy every last minute of it, even the long walk across the pasture. Unlike Redemption, the Coldiron ranch was a well-oiled, money-making machine. A cattle empire started by their great-great-great-granddad, Jedidiah Coldiron. One of Santa Camino’s founding fathers.
Built in the mid 1800’s, the main house occupied a portion of the valley between Promise Poi
nt and a smaller range of hills running through the property. The Spanish-style house was a historical landmark, with its plaster brick walls, walnut floors, delicately flowing staircases and wrought iron balconies.
It was nothing like her family’s modest white two-story farmhouse. Built generations ago by her granddad, Sutton Mackenna, the house was a sturdy T-shaped design with a solid foundation, white planked siding, a long spindled porch across the front and a fireplace at each end. Withstanding all sorts of calamities and hardships, it was a reflection of the Mackenna family’s tenacity. The old house filled her with pride and when she came home, restoring it would be her first priority. She’d add the kitchen space Rose wanted in the back. Install new windows, hire a roofer, give it a fresh coat of white paint, and maybe she would give gardening a try, if she had the time.
She threw a leg over the fence, twisted around, and jumped down to the other side. Then sprinted across the pasture towards the barn, maneuvering past steaming piles of manure with precision. A skill she found useful the summer she came to live with Rose.
The last leap landed her near the fence which separated the main house from the barn. She hooked a boot into the bottom of the four rails, that was the perfect height for viewing, climbed to the top and sat down. A cool breeze filtered through the hills, and blew against her face. She closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath and savored the sweet, dusty smell of hay and earth.
A truck rolled past her and down the gravel road, covering her in a cloud of dust. She coughed and waved a hand until the air was clear. Cowhands, mechanics, cooks, and handymen always made it a lively and loud place. The sound of man, machine and animal were in perfect syncing harmony. But there were quiet times which connected with her soul. Like when the evening sun was but a sliver of orange against the dark green tree line or the time right before a storm.
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