“West got his biggest break in the case when a member of the Murphy Gang turned on his employers and stole the dies for himself. West then followed this new suspect’s trail of ambiguous clues to a ranch in Wyoming. ‘After questioning several hands on the spread,’ West said, ‘I quickly suspected Dave Reynolds, aka Sean O’Dea, a former henchman and enforcer for the Murphy Gang in Boston.’”
I quickly suspected . . . I?
He couldn’t even be magnanimous enough to give her, the lowly reporter, a little credit?
Her spirits sinking lower, Ellie tried not to show her disappointment. Instead, she sat straight and tall, her chin up, though she didn’t see the point of the story. She knew all this.
“West discovered the stolen dies in O’Dea’s belongings,” Mr. Taylor continued reading, “and convinced the criminal to testify against the Murphy Gang.
“West admits, however, he couldn’t have brought O’Dea to justice, and hence, the Murphy gang, without one very important element. ‘Reporter Ellie Blair of the World Daily News joined my investigation undercover as the ranch foreman’s mail-order bride,’ West said. ‘I don’t think I would have found the dies if it hadn’t been for her sharp senses and keen observations.’”
Ellie felt some better. He hadn’t forgotten her, but the quote sounded so impersonal. Well, after all, she had only been an undercover agent. Nothing more.
“‘Miss Blair is a superior reporter in every way,’ West said. ‘The Treasury Department was lucky to have her assistance.’” Mr. Taylor looked up.
Ellie took a deep breath, still puzzled by the point of the story. “Not bad, I suppose, but it’s not Bill’s usual hard-hitting angle.”
Mr. Taylor’s lips twisted as if he was fighting a huge grin. “I’m not finished.” He went back to the story and began reading again. “When asked what his plans are now that an investigation of two years duration has ended, Agent West said, quote, ‘I plan on asking Ellie Blair to marry me—’”
“And if she says no—”
Jim!
Ellie’s heart trip-hammered in her chest at the sound of his voice. She spun in her chair. He leaned on the doorpost, a wry grin on his lips, mischief and hope in his warm, brown eyes. His right arm in a sling, he slowly spun his cowboy hat.
“And if she says no, I plan to recruit her for the Treasury Department.”
A silence as full as her heart fell on the room. She actually felt faint with joy at the sight of him.
“Well,” Mr. Taylor cleared his throat and stood. “I have a strong suspicion if I leave this room, I’ll lose my star reporter.” His gaze ricocheted between the two. “Never mind.” Sounding disgusted and amused, he snatched his cigar from the ashtray. “I’m going to go find a match.”
When he was gone, Jim shut the door behind him. Not convinced her wobbly legs would hold her, Ellie rose slowly to her feet. “What are you doing here?”
“Weren’t you listening?”
She gulped. “You’re going to ask me to marry you?”
“That is the plan.”
“But I thought you didn’t want to give up your job.”
“And you don’t want to quit being a reporter. So what are we going to do?”
“I don’t think I ever specifically said I wouldn’t quit.”
He took a step toward her. “And I don’t think I ever specifically said I wouldn’t give up my badge for the married life.”
She matched his step. “Then what are we saying?”
Another step brought him a breath away from her. She inhaled the scent of a new shirt, aftershave, and him.
He tossed his hat to the desk. “We have to figure a compromise, I think. Both of us give a little to be together.”
“Do you have any suggestions, Agent West?” She licked her lips, desperate for his.
“Well, um,” he dragged a finger across his mouth, “as a matter of fact, I hear the Cheyenne Eagle is looking for a reporter.”
“Really?”
“And furthermore, I hear the Whiskey Creek Ranch has experienced some rustling and would like to hire a private detective to look into it.”
“Really?”
“As a matter of another fact, I think I might just open my own detective agency in Cheyenne.” He reached out and cupped her cheek. “I might even need an inquisitive reporter to help me out now and again. I’d like to start a small ranch on the side, too.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He took her hand in his good one and sank to one knee. “Ellie, the truth is . . . I think we . . . ” he moistened his lips. “The truth is we are more than agreeable together.”
A laugh that was also a sob escaped her. Tears sneaked past her lashes as she fought the knot in her throat.
He pressed her hand to his face. “I love you and can’t imagine the rest of my life without you. I’ll go anyplace, do anything, just to keep you near me. Please marry me.”
Peace like a warm waterfall cascaded over Ellie. Tears welling up in her eyes, she nodded and pulled Jim to his feet. He crushed her to him and pressed his lips to hers. Groaning, he worked his arm free of the sling and hugged her tightly. From behind them, Ellie heard a commotion and she and Jim pulled apart to see the entire World Daily News staff clapping, laughing, shouting encouragement.
Her gaze met Bill Reese’s and he winked at her. “Good goin’, kid!”
Laughing, she kissed Jim again, but he pulled back and pointed a finger at her. “Is that a yes?”
“Ask me what Nellie Bly would do.”
“What would Nellie Bly do?”
“Who cares?” She kissed him. “Ellie Blair is saying yes.” She kissed him again, amazed how her heart was soaring. “Yes.” She kissed him again, longer, slower, happiness bubbling up in her like a spring. “And you can quote me on that.”
To Love and To Honor
Faith. Honor. Love. Which one will they sacrifice?
Wounded cavalry soldier Joel Chapman is struggling to find his place in the world of able-bodied men when he meets pregnant and unwed Angela Fairbanks. The daughter of a cold and ruthless cattle baron, she is terrified her father will disown her when he learns of the baby. Joel, touched by Angela’s plight, brashly offers to pose as her husband for one day and then abandon her, thus restoring her honor.
But so much can happen in a day…
Foreword
Many of you are no doubt familiar with evangelist and speaker Dave Roever. Horribly burned in Vietnam by a phosphorus grenade, he has turned a personal tragedy into a life-saving ministry with several different outreaches. You can learn more about them here: http://roeverfoundation.org/meet_dave_roever.php
I heard Dave speak many years ago and one amazing part of his journey that struck me was his fear of whether his wife would reject him or not.
He was in a hospital for fourteen months “recovering” from his burns. Early on in his stay, he watched in agony as a fellow burn patient’s wife came for her first visit. She took one look at her husband, slipped off her wedding ring, laid it on the man’s chest, and left the room.
Dave lived in terror that his wife would have the same reaction. Mercifully, she did not and the couple are still married today.
Dave’s life and the life of that rejected soldier have stayed with me all these years. I have often wondered what became of the other man. My heart is burdened by the way society and culture continually play up a shallow, almost mercurial definition of beauty. If you aren’t beautiful, you’d better get beautiful or no one will love you.
That is a lie. True love pushes through all the boundaries and limitations of the physical. True love sees the soul. I thank God every day that He sees us as we truly are, not what we are at any given moment in this life.
I also am deeply grateful for the incredible sacrifices our men and women in uniform make by serving. To our Wounded Warriors specifically, I offer my genuine, sincere gratitude. Thank you so very much for all that you have given. May you never give up your dignity.
May you never lose your hope or spirit.
You are indeed loved, eternally and unconditionally.
Isaiah 40:31
But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.
1
Joel knew better than to stare.
He’d spent the entire stagecoach trip from Cheyenne to Evergreen trying not to. Yet, somehow, his gaze drifted repeatedly from the rolling, mysterious, pine-dotted hills to her large, sad, brown eyes. Perhaps he was not as enamored of her beauty as he was simply impacted by the pain in her countenance. Sadness, grief, or something of the like, etched itself into the delicate swell of her lips, creased her brow with worry.
Always wont to rescue the stray, he had attempted conversation several times. Her soft responses had been polite, cool, and singularly brief. His leg—no, the stump of his leg—ached ferociously and he longed to adjust the prosthetic but wouldn’t in front of her.
Pondering the girl’s circumstances was at least a distraction. She wore a richly embroidered midnight-blue cotton day dress. He would have thought her wealthy, if not for the fraying hem and fading on the sleeves. Her small, feathered hat matched the gown and capped such glistening auburn hair, it begged his hands to touch it. The flawless, smooth skin of her cheeks and throat demanded kissing—
Joel swallowed and retreated to the scenery outside his window. These were simply no thoughts for an officer and a gentleman—a married gentleman—to harbor. God forgive him.
He was merely still reacting to the hurt Ruth had inflicted on him. Half a man. A cripple. Good for nothing but squatting by a riverbank and panning for fool’s gold.
The words had cut him, to be sure. But he understood her position. A woman needed security and she wasn’t sure how Joel was going to take care of her. Panning in the Black Hills might be one way. Ruth’s idea, she had also helped him pack. Suspecting other reasons behind her eagerness for him to depart, and stinging from her attack, he’d acquiesced without a fight.
Yet, he had no peace about this scheme. He didn’t feel particularly led to South Dakota, but he had no direction elsewhere, either.
Of their own accord, his eyes drifted back to the young lady on the stage, staring out the window at the bleak November landscape.
In his brief conversation with her, Joel had learned she was Miss Angela Fairbanks, coming to Evergreen to see her father. She had said it with such moroseness, Joel wondered if she was coming for the man’s funeral. Evergreen was the end of her trip. Joel still had another day’s travel to reach Deadwood.
The girl jerked forward, ogling something outside the window. “Driver!” She stuck her head out the window, terror lacing her voice. “Driver, stop the coach.”
“Whoa,” the man up top yelled and the stage slowed, then rocked to a stop.
“Ma’am?” Joel sat up. “What’s wrong?”
She ignored him and spoke to the driver in a desperate, shrill tone. “I want to get out. Right here.” She popped back in and flung open the door. “I’ll walk the rest of the way.” She leaped from the coach in a flurry of blue waves, her matching cloak in tow.
“But, ma’am,” the driver protested, “We’re only a mile out. Why in the Sam Hill would you want to walk?”
Miss Fairbanks stepped away from the coach as if it had suddenly turned hot as a cast-iron stove. “I just need… to walk. Unload my trunk at the station, please.”
Joel looked back at the only other passenger on the coach, a drunkard who had snored the last ten miles and filled the stagecoach with the stench of cigar smoke and whiskey. Perhaps the young lady couldn’t take the odors any more.
But this close to town…?
“All right, ma’am. If you say so.” The leather reins whipped and the stagecoach jerked into motion. Joel watched the girl’s face pass by the windows, then she was gone. She had left the door open and he reached for it. Sighing, he leaned further than necessary so he could get a glimpse of her. He was not surprised to see her standing on the side of the road, face in her hands, shoulders shaking with sobs.
He sagged, knowing he couldn’t leave her. How could the driver have let her get out? Joel leaned out the door, twisting to look up. “Driver, stop. Let me off as well.”
The stage did not slow for a moment and Joel wondered if the man had heard. Then the vehicle again swayed to a stop. A burly man with an eye patch peered down. “Makes a body wonder what a depot is for.” He scowled with his fearsome one-eyed countenance. “Will your luggage be going on without you?”
That gave Joel pause. If anything happened, if he needed to stay in Evergreen, take a later stage, he would need his things. “No, unload them at the station if you would, but you could toss me my valise.” He may need his pain medication.
The man squinted at him. “Say, soldier boy, you know that lady, right?”
Joel touched the lapel on his uniform. He’d forgotten how he was dressed. “No, sir, I do not, but I don’t think she should be abandoned alone on the side of the road.”
The driver spat tobacco. “Her business. Not mine, but I won’t leave her with a wolf.”
“But you’d leave her for the wolves?” The driver’s expression transformed to shame and he averted his gaze. Joel swiped his hat from the seat, thrust his cane out, grabbed his coat, and clambered awkwardly from the stage, his game leg a frustrating hindrance. He dropped his cavalry hat in place and rapped where his knee should be. The hollow sound of wood greeted his knuckles. “I won’t harm her.”
The driver studied Joel, his glance flitting briefly over the leg. “I can see that.” Moments later a black leather bag thudded in the dust at Joel’s feet and the stagecoach resumed its trek to Evergreen.
2
Evergreen rested down in a valley, the floor of which was populated with golden rolling hills peppered with scrub, sparse evergreens and a few ghostly rock formations. Desolate. The town itself, however, practically gleamed from the neatly whitewashed homes and businesses. And watching over it all, the snow-capped Laramie Mountains rose in the hazy distance like a mirage.
Joel hadn’t seen many towns that prim and proper—a thought which pulled him back to the reason he was standing in the middle of the road. Miss Fairbanks had turned her back to him and was wiping her face. Joel exhaled heavily, unsure of what to say or do. He suspected she might not be thrilled by his company. She might even be fearful.
“Ma’am,” he took two hitched steps toward her, the stump of his leg thundering with pain. “Maybe it’s none of my business, but I couldn’t see leaving you on the road alone. I’m happy to escort you into town.”
And it was going to be a long walk. He reached down and rubbed his leg, just above where his knee used to be. Only within the last few weeks had he been practicing walking without a cane. His progress was slow, and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever completely retire the device. At least the fall day was cool—refreshing, but not cold. Heat made the pain more grueling to endure.
The young lady sniffed once, straightened her shoulders, and rounded on him slowly. “I realize you’re trying to help, but I’m not ready to walk into town just yet. I need…” She trailed off, chin quivering. She fought valiantly, Joel thought, but her tears would not be stopped. Her face contorted with the battle, she lost, and a sob worked free. She wept into her hands.
Dear God, help me help this young lady.
Joel’s heart broke for the woman. He approached her, raised a hand to touch her, but realized that was out of the question, and dropped it to his side. “Ma’am, I’m sure whatever’s wrong, we can bring it to rights.”
“I don’t know what I was thinking.” She shook her head. “He’ll never… the disgrace. He won’t tolerate it. He’ll turn me out. I shouldn’t even be here.”
“Please, ma’am,” Joel took her elbow. “Why don’t we sit down over here and you tell me what’s wrong.”
She let him lead he
r to a boulder beside the road but kept shaking her head. “No one can help me.” She dropped to the rock and sagged as if she had no more life in her.
Grateful to get the weight off his leg, he sat beside her. “One thing I do know. I know I can’t help if you don’t tell me what the problem is.”
Miss Fairbanks took a deep, cleansing breath. “My father’s whole world revolves around honor. He grudgingly allowed me to go to school back East. But I knew he’d never allow me to pursue a career in the theater so I left again a year ago…without his permission. That alone is grounds for him to turn his back on me.”
“But that’s not all?”
“No.” She closed her eyes. “I met an actor.”
Joel began to suspect he knew the cause of her tears. She was returning home broken, humiliated, apparently abandoned by her lover? The embarrassment was certainly no small thing, but the fact that his daughter was home should assuage the father’s anger. “You’re not the first headstrong daughter to—”
“I’m going to have a baby.”
Joel sagged a little himself. That would be a hard pill for any father to swallow. “I take it the actor…?”
“He didn’t marry me. He doesn’t want the child.” Miss Fairbanks hugged herself and swallowed. “And now my father won’t, either. He won’t take me in. I know he won’t.” Her dark eyes widened with fear, like a deer sensing a predator. “I’ve made a terrible mistake coming here. He could barely bring himself to acknowledge he had a daughter. All he’s ever wanted was a son.”
Joel rose and took a few steps. Intending to pace, the pain in his leg convinced him otherwise. He stopped with his back to her, leaning on his cane. “Surely you underestimate your father. If you’ve been gone a year…” A thought struck him and he turned. “Have you communicated with him? Did he know your whereabouts these past months?”
The Brides of Evergreen Box Set Page 39
