Farmer's Daughter Romance Collection : Five Historical Romances Homegrown in the American Heartland (9781630586164)

by Peterson, Tracie; Davis, Mary; Hake, Kelly Eileen; Stengl, Jill; Warren, Susan May

  “This is Mrs. Atwater.” He pointed to the woman beside him.

  “Hello, Mrs. Atwater.” Marty smiled.

  “Please call me Milly.”

  “Milly is my housekeeper and substitute mother. You won’t find a better cook in these parts.” Reece leaned in closer. “I stole her from one of the logging camps.”

  “So you’ve had practice,” Marty said.

  He growled, then smiled.

  “Stole. He plumb rescued me, that’s what he did. Cooking for three hundred men and getting paid practically nothing.”

  “Best cook in the Pacific Northwest,” Reece bragged. “If I were ten years older, I’d marry her.”

  “More like twenty, Mr. Keegan.”

  Marty could tell this was a go-round Reece and Milly had danced before.

  Chapter 21

  Reece sat behind his desk in his office at home, staring at the pages in front of him. One he had headed Rawlings with a column for pros and another for cons. He had a similar page with McRaes written at the top. The Rawlings’s page was heavy on the pro side. Love topped the list; then, the girls knew the Rawlings and loved them as well; they were dedicated and loyal; kindhearted. The list went on and on with positive qualities.

  On the con side of the sheet, he had a hard time coming up with anything but finally wrote money. He didn’t think it was a negative, but the judge and the McRaes would. In the short time he had been in Montana, he had seen that they were doing quite well. They didn’t have as much money as the McRaes, but they were by no means the poor dirt farmers William had led him to believe. Lucas was obviously well thought of in the community to be acting sheriff.

  Reece dipped his pen in the inkwell and moved back to the pro column and wrote sheriff. That was a definite plus for their side.

  Back on the con side he wrote country. Though Reece thought their living in the country was a good thing, he knew the other attorney would bring it up with emphasis on lack of education. The McRaes would no doubt send the girls to some faraway boarding school and then a stuffy finishing school. That would keep them out of the way until they grew up. He wrote education under country.

  The McRaes’ page looked very much the same except opposite. For every Rawlings pro there was a McRae con right on down the line. Reece dipped his pen in the inkwell and wrote city/education on the pro side. He knew how they thought and couldn’t overlook this angle. He had to think of everything their attorney would to be prepared to counter it. Even then, he knew he couldn’t win.

  He pulled out another sheet of paper and dipped his pen back in the inkwell. OUR CASE he wrote in all capital letters across the top, a column for strengths and one for weaknesses. He stared long at the page, then let his head sag until his chin touched his chest and shook it. He didn’t have a case. If this were an ordinary case with an honorable judge, they would have a chance.

  The McRaes had the judge in their pocket. Unless Reece could prove that or something else to show they were unfit, Judge Vance would rule for the McRaes.

  Reece lowered his head again. Lord Jesus in heaven, forgive me for all these years of doing it on my own, for leaning on my own strength. I have defended people I believed were guilty because I never asked them outright and so could say I didn’t know if they were to confess later. My conscience was clear. But in my soul, I knew better.

  Lord, touch Marty and heal her. Thank You for keeping her safe. You did something special when You created her.

  I know in my mind, soul, and mostly my aching heart that Daniella and Daphne should live with Marty and her family. Show me how to do that. Give me the crucial bit of information I need to make William McRae back off and let the girls go. I can’t do this without You.

  Reece lifted his head and opened his eyes in time to see Marty heading for his front door. “Where are you off to?” From her startled, wide-eyed expression, he guessed she didn’t know he was home. He couldn’t drag himself too far from her. He didn’t want to.

  She came to his opened door. “I need to walk. I’ll go crazy if I don’t do something.”

  She had spent the first day resting in bed with enough laudanum in her to keep her from thinking about much of anything. The next day, she refused medication and got up to roam around.

  He had wondered how long she could be kept down and was glad Milly had taken on the job of being the bad guy. Milly had her hands full and must have given up trying to keep Marty down. Either that or Marty had snuck past her only to be caught by him.

  He got up from his desk chair and walked around to her. “Doc Ford said you should take it easy for a few days.”

  “I’m tired of resting. I’m not some sissy who needs to be coddled and pampered. I need to be useful.”

  She tossed her head slightly, not realizing how feminine the movement was. He wouldn’t be the one to tell her. He liked her grit, loyalty, and honor. She was so true and honest. Then every once in a while he would catch glimpses of her denied femininity and his racing heart would stop for one brief moment. She was pretty near perfect in his eyes…with emphasis on the pretty.

  Her sigh brought him back. “I did nothing at the McRaes’, but I was with Dani and Davey. Now I can’t even see them.”

  Silvia McRae had forbidden Marty and Reece to even set foot on their property. As soon as Marty had made her escape, Silvia had ordered the servants to burn anything she had left behind, including her Stetson. That loss was second only to her nieces.

  “Come in here. You can help me.” He offered her a seat on the couch.

  She plopped down like a cowboy and sucked in a quick breath between gritted teeth.

  He wanted to order her back to bed but knew it would not work. It wasn’t necessary to ask if she was in pain. It was etched all over her face. And he wouldn’t go over to her and fuss. If he did, he would pull her into his arms and carry her back to bed. She would be both offended and put off. But if he thought for one minute she was harming herself, he would drag her back to bed kicking and hollering and tie her down. He would give her the time she needed for the pain to settle.

  She took an unsteady breath and leveled her gaze at him. “I don’t know what good I’ll be. I don’t have a fancy education like you.”

  No fancy education would tell him what he needed to know. Reece sat in the chair adjacent to the couch. “Tell me about your sister.”

  “What?” She turned slowly to glare at him.

  He was confused by her negative reaction. When she had told him about her family before, she had exhibited no emotion about her sister’s death as she had for her parents’. He had dismissed it at the time but now wondered what was behind it. “Tell me about Lynnette, the girls’ mother.”

  “Lynnette?” There was no mistaking the contempt in her answer. “Why do you want to know about her? She’s dead.”

  What had happened to turn Marty against her own sister, a sister whose daughters Marty was totally devoted to? “I need to know everything about her. What she was like. What she said when she arrived with Daphne and Daniella. Her last wishes for them. Did she leave a will? Anything and everything. I need to know it all to get them back.”

  “I don’t know what she wanted.”

  “She was your sister. Didn’t she say anything to you about her girls before she died? Who she wanted them to live with?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she said something to Lucas. I didn’t see much of her. We weren’t very close.”

  “Didn’t you care she was dying?” He couldn’t believe that this woman who cared so deeply for the girls could care so little for their mother.

  “No, I guess I didn’t.” She lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “My sister was weak and selfish. She thought only of herself. When things got tough, she left us. She was giving up once again and caved in to defeat without a fight.”

  “She was dying, for heaven’s sake.” Reece couldn’t believe the cold words coming from this strong, passionate woman.

  “She could have lived if she had ha
d the strength and the will. I know she could have.” Her tone suggested anger and hurt. “With her husband dead she had no money, so she left Dani and Davey for someone else to raise. When they needed her most, she quit. She didn’t have to die. She could have lived on the farm. Lucas would have taken care of her, but instead she gave up, taking the easy way out. That’s her way.”

  Reece felt as though Marty’s nieces being left was a small part of a deeper pain. Still waters run deep, and he suspected hers were far reaching.

  Marty got up and walked across to his desk and fiddled with a paperweight. Reece came over to her. She turned to him and continued speaking, with her emotions in check. “It wasn’t the first time she abandoned her family. After Ma and Pa died, she ran off and got married, leaving us alone on the farm.”

  She spoke in plurals, but the pain belonged to her alone. Reece tried to think of when the McRaes came to Seattle. Thirteen years ago. He was back east then, in school. And Marty was five years old. The same age as Daphne and Daniella when their mother died, leaving them. Her fierce loyalty stemmed from their similar losses. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her, but she shed not a tear. She was too strong for tears or to be comforted. Lynnette’s betrayal had made her that way. So he stood there helpless, anguished by the pain Marty denied.

  The days dragged with no word about the twins. Marty’s heart ached for them. She hoped Reece’s plan would work. And to her surprise, she even prayed and felt…something. It was unlike any feeling she had experienced before, but she knew it was going to be okay.

  She lay on her back on the couch in Reece’s office with her feet propped up on the back of the sofa, the skirt of her dress tucked between her knees. Raindrops dripped from the outside sill and chased each other down the glass. This would be snow back home. She thought of playing in the snow with Dani and Davey and hoped they would have a chance to do it again this winter.

  There were several benefits to Reece’s plan. First and foremost, Marty would have a guarantee of getting Dani and Davey back, though her backup plan would guarantee that, too, if she could just get it worked out.

  Second, Marty and her nieces could go back home and not be on the run for the rest of their lives. Either way she won. It was just that one way didn’t make her a fugitive and an enemy of Reece.

  Over and over she had tried to develop an alternative plan, should Reece be unsuccessful in court. She couldn’t. Her heart wasn’t in it. She wanted to trust that Reece would and could do what he boasted. It felt like betrayal to distrust him.

  She turned suddenly toward the door, sensing someone watching her. Reece stood in the doorway. He seemed a bit unnerved by her looking at him so abruptly and a gentle smile pulled at his mouth. How long had he been standing there? She swung her feet down to the floor. At the same time, her head popped up off the couch, forcing her upright. She sucked in a quick breath at the sharp pain in her side.

  “You all right?”

  “Fine.”

  Her hands ran over her skirt to smooth it, and she tried to act like a lady. She felt like a lady around him because he always treated her like a lady, regardless of how she behaved.

  “I was watching the raindrops drip off the bare branches, wondering if it’s snowing back home.”

  Reece crossed over to his desk. What was he thinking? What did that smile mean? He probably thought he had a primitive bumpkin with no manners at all in his house. She wanted him to like her or at least not be repulsed by her. At the same time she was irritated by how this man could turn her insides to mush. Pull yourself together, Marty. He’s only being nice because he feels guilty for what he did. Flustered, she got up to leave.

  “Don’t go on my account,” he said.

  Marty turned to him. “I don’t want to bother you.” She pointed to the papers he held in his hands.

  “You aren’t bothering me. These aren’t important.” He put the papers down and came around his desk. “As a matter of fact, I need to talk to you.” He motioned for her to have a seat. “I need to take a little trip.” The caution in his voice made her nervous. “I leave first thing in the morning.”

  Marty’s heart dropped like a rock down a well. He was leaving? Running out on her and her nieces? Marty stared at him in disbelief. How could he do this to her?

  “I won’t be gone long, maybe a week,” he spoke quickly. “I’ll be back in plenty of time for the hearing.” Marty continued to stare and said nothing. “I need to talk to some people who knew your sister. I will be back. I promise.”

  “Lynnette. Everything is always about Lynnette.” Marty stalked out of the room.

  She went out to the animal shed to be with the one soul who was her constant companion. As she stroked Flash’s neck, she sifted through her feelings. She had been at Reece’s house for a week now and in Seattle for nearly three weeks. Although grateful for all Reece had done for her and her nieces, she couldn’t wait for it all to be over. Marty wanted to get away from this place and her feelings. She trusted Reece and didn’t exactly know why. She cared for him. Was she falling in love with him? What a silly thought. Marty Rawlings in love? She couldn’t deny it. What else could it be? She had to stop these feelings right now. In three weeks she would have her nieces one way or another and be gone. There was no room for love. Besides, Reece would never love someone like her.

  The next morning Reece left as promised. With him away, a hole opened up inside Marty. Though she tried to stop her feelings, they crashed over her like a raging river. It was good he was gone. It would give her time to get control of these strange new feelings.

  “You don’t like God?” Mrs. Atwater exclaimed.

  Marty shook her head.

  “We need to get you to church, child, and introduce you to the Lord God Almighty.”

  “I go to church and know who God is,” Marty said.

  “You say you know Him but don’t like Him?” the woman asked, astonished. Marty nodded. After she had grilled Marty to the point where she was reasonably convinced Marty was a Christian, Mrs. Atwater asked, “Why is it you don’t like God?”

  “He don’t like me.” Marty could tell Mrs. Atwater was taken aback by the response.

  “Child, He sent His only Son to die for you. I’d say He more than likes you. He loves you.”

  “He doesn’t like the way I am,” Marty tried to explain. “I don’t dress and act the way a lady should. People, especially other Christians, look down on me ’cause I don’t wear dresses, and I keep my hair short. People reflect who God is.”

  “Christians are an imperfect reflection tainted by sin. God takes each of us just as we are.”

  “I don’t believe that. Like folks, He expects me to wear a dress and act like a ‘proper’ lady.”

  “You view God as you view people.” Mrs. Atwater put a comforting hand over Marty’s. “God is not a person. Can you think of no one who accepts you, child? Your family?”

  Must Mrs. Atwater keep calling her child? After all, Marty was eighteen. “My brothers don’t mind, but they seen me grow up this way.”

  “So they don’t count?” she asked. Marty shook her head. “What about your nieces? From what Mr. Keegan tells me, those two little mites adore their aunty. They aren’t taken in by the McRaes’ wealth and finery.”

  “They are only children,” Marty said as if that explained it.

  “They don’t count, either?”

  Marty shook her head.

  “Children can read people better than most adults. They can look inside and see who people really are. They aren’t so easily fooled by fancy words and pretty clothes. They see the heart. Your nieces love you for the person you are, not what you wear.”

  So. Marty just stared at her, raising her eyebrows.

  Mrs. Atwater was silent for a couple minutes, then said, “What about me? I like you. It makes no difference to me if you’re in a dress or pants. And before you go dismissing me, too,” she said, quickly holding up her hand to keep Marty from protesting, “I’ll ha
ve you know I was like the McRaes. I came from a wealthy family and looked down my nose at anyone who didn’t wear the finest clothes.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “Harold, my late husband, and a crippled orphan girl named Molly showed me the way to the Lord and to accept people unconditionally. Harold was everything I wanted in a man: rich, powerful, and exceedingly handsome, but he was also a religious man. He wouldn’t look twice at me until I did some charity work at an orphanage to get his attention. It was dirty, and the stench overwhelming. The children thought I was an angel and kept pawing at my expensive, yellow satin gown from Paris. I wanted to turn right around and leave, but Harold looked at me and smiled. I forced a smile and read story after story to the filthy little urchins.

  “When it was time to leave, a brown-haired girl about seven or eight limped over to the door and held it open for me. She had hung back by herself because the other children teased her. When I thanked her, she looked up at me with her big brown eyes and smiled. She was so grateful just to be noticed. My cold heart cracked a tiny bit. I told her she needed gloves to be a proper door holder and gave her mine.

  “As I got into my carriage she said, ‘Thank you, Angel Lady.’ It felt good to do something nice for someone else.

  “Harold started calling on me. When Molly became ill, I wanted to go to her, but my family wouldn’t allow it. Even with the best doctors and my angry prayers, Molly died. Harold said her last words were of me. ‘I see her. She’s right over there by the window. The yellow angel is taking me to Jesus.’ She closed her eyes and was at peace.” Milly’s eyes moistened. She blinked back tears. “Shortly after that Harold led me to the Lord. And when I get to heaven, the first thing I’m going to do is give Molly a great big hug. If you look with the eyes of love like God does, everyone is beautiful, even a stuck-up socialite in the latest Paris fashions.”

  Marty shook her head. “I can’t believe you were ever like Dora McRae.”

  “I was worse. I was an Eastern snob,” she said with mocking airs. “We never would have associated with these West Coast types. Does the fact that I wear a dress make me a better person than you?”