Brighter Tomorrows

by Beverly Wells

  Before she could reconsider, she swung the pan like a stick of wood, full force. A direct hit to his head. He went down like a flimsy rag doll. Callie stood silent, frozen in place at what she had done. She had not thought she could be so vicious. Dear God, forgive me for what I have done.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Once Chase made sure the bank was covered by others, he and Matt mounted and raced toward Callie’s. Chase would go in the front; Matt would enter the back.

  His gun drawn, Chase silently opened the door. He eyed the vacant parlor to his left, then crept down the hall, his mind alert. He checked the dining room to the left, Callie’s bedroom to the right. All empty.

  Nearing the kitchen, he saw her. She stood still, facing left. Relief swelled in his heart, yet he listened for voices, any movement. Nothing. With pot holders, she gripped a fry pan in both hands, in front of her. His instincts went on alert. He took a step.

  Below the table a man, unmoving, lay prone, arms and legs contorted at different angles.

  Spotting Matt with his gun aimed, peeking from the entryway, Chase tilted his head toward the table. Matt’s eyes widened. Chase scanned the room, found nothing, and breathed a huge sigh. He holstered his gun and held up a hand to hold Matt at bay.

  “Callie.”

  She remained silent, ashen. He moved slowly, stepped in front of her.

  “Callie, it’s Chase. I’m going to take the pan from you.”

  “Hot,” she said in a stoic voice. Taking a frank look at him, her brown eyes softened.

  That’s my girl.

  “I think I killed him.” She went to the stove and set the pan down. He followed her.

  “Matt, check and see if he’s breathin’,” Chase directed.

  From behind, Chase wrapped his arms around her and inhaled her apple scent as he buried his face in her hair. “Let me hold you. Did he hurt you, sweetheart?” He held his breath while his heart thudded.

  She turned within his arms, laid her head against his chest, and wrapped her arms around his torso. “He was vulgar. He said he’d…he’d—you know…after he ate, but he didn’t hurt me. He laughed when he told me he’d been watching you.”

  They clung to each other, both content to merely savor the moment. Chase knew he would have gone mad had Marten physically hurt or violated her. Thank you, God, from us both.

  “It’s Amos Marten all right, and he’s still breathin’…for now,” Matt said. “He’s a mess, Chase. He needs a doc bad. He’s out cold.”

  Let him rot on the floor.

  Chase turned his head. “Get the doc. Have him bring a stretcher and men. Then, bring Marianne to stay with Callie. Tell doc to hurry, we need the rest of the gang.”

  Matt vanished.

  Chase preferred to take Callie to the parlor, but Marten’s ankles and wrists were so red and blistered he could not add more injury by cuffing the heinous beast to the table. Neither could he leave him unattended.

  He sat on a kitchen chair in the far corner with Callie nestled on his lap. Sometimes, bad situations had their benefits. He insisted she needed to talk about it. She recounted the events of the morning.

  Doctor Swithers, accompanied by four strong men toted Marten away. When Marianne arrived, Chase and Matt hightailed it to town to help round up the other four. As they left, they heard Marianne insisting Callie start at the beginning—and this time, she wanted the particulars—how long Callie had known John…Chase…whoever.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  The late afternoon breeze ruffled Callie’s hair as she sat in the swing awaiting Chase. After convincing Marianne she was fine, her friend agreed to go home to her animals. Her stomach growled just as Chase strode toward her house. Hiking up her skirt, she ran across the yard and bear-hugged him. Their lips clung before his deep belly laugh erupted. “I believe you missed me.”

  “You know I did.” She drank in his raw masculinity and wondered how she’d gotten so lucky.

  “I’ve brought food for sustenance,” he said holding up the crushed bag. “I stopped at the Chat-a-While and had Laura pack us some supper. Have you eaten?”

  “No. Marianne cleaned up the kitchen before she left. I wasn’t hungry before.”

  “Good.”

  While Callie opened containers, Chase washed up.

  As they ate, he related how the three other outlaws had been in a tizzy waiting for Marten to show up. They were to meet behind Harper’s. Two of them, at intervals, would leave to look for the fool. They’d been sitting ducks. It’d taken all day to process the men, send telegraphs to authorities and thank all involved, drop off his horse, and grab the supper.

  After eating their fill, they sat on the swing, him with a whiskey, she pillowing her head on his shoulder and enjoying the feel of his arm around her shoulders.

  She glanced up. “What a horrible way to say you love me. You yelled it down the street.”

  His eyes glittered. “Oh yeah? You screeched like an ol’ washerwoman, and it meant just as much to me.”

  His words warmed her. “I hate that you’re a marshal.”

  “May not be a marshal for long.”

  She glanced up. “Why not?”

  “David Millet said he’s gettin’ tired. Been wantin’ to move to Cheyenne to be with his family since his wife died. He offered me the sheriff position.”

  “Would you even consider it?”

  He sipped his whiskey. “Might, but only if the town approved two deputies. If one gets sick or hurt, I’d be stuck; two in a sticky situation is always better. I’m tired of movin’ around. Be nice to stay in one place. He’ll talk to the town fathers.”

  “What about your brother, your house?”

  He shrugged. “Jeff doesn’t need me. We’d stay in touch. I’d sell the house. I think there’s more attraction here.” When he winked, her heart twittered.

  She met his gaze. “Make love to me.”

  “Sweetheart, there is nothing in the world I’d like better. But not tonight. We’re both exhausted. And you’re more than vulnerable. When we make love, we both need to know it’s because of what’s in our hearts, not to wash away today’s horror.” His voice hinted of anguish.

  “Tell me what’s wrong. You say you love me; that you might move here; and then, you refuse my offer. Don’t lie or lead me on. I couldn’t take that.”

  “You could have been raped or murdered. I failed to protect you, just like I failed Bethany.”

  Anger surged, yet she caught herself, realizing that reinforcement of his worth, understanding, and love would make him see the truth.

  “You did protect me. With your love, you gave me the fortitude to fight adversity. I was determined nothing would stand in my way to see what lies ahead for us. Otherwise, I would’ve folded and given in. Had I lived, I’d be forever floundering. Thank you, my love, for being my backbone, fortress, savior—and my true love.

  His eyes glistened. “You humble me.” He kissed her tenderly, and that kiss alone said everything, even without his next words. “I love you so much, Callie. I didn’t refuse, I only postponed. Tonight, I’ll hold you in my arms and kiss you until we’re both breathless. I need to show you I love you and will never use you. After tonight…you’re fair game.”

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  By early afternoon, Chase joined Callie at the celebration. They strolled past tables set in long rows with snacks, beverages, sandwiches, and fresh cut vegetables. They laughed as children of all ages grabbed bags of popcorn, or chose taffy, fudge or cookies off the tables, then run to catch up with friends.

  They shared popcorn while shouting encouragement to contestants throughout different events. Chase won the shooting contest easily, while Ben Tucker, the postmaster, won at archery. By three-thirty, they left so Callie could bake corn bread.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Since Callie had most everything premeasured and organized on the kitchen table, she made simple work out of mixing the batter. Chase opened jars of canned corn.

  “Do you buy
this or make it?” Chase asked smelling the bowl of sour cream.

  She broke eggs into a bowl. “You can buy cultured, but I mix milk, vinegar, and heavy cream. It has to set, covered for twenty-four hours, then chilled until used.”

  He started greasing the pans as she’d instructed. “Why use it?”

  Callie stirred the corn meal into the mix. “It adds richer flavor, and cakes and breads bake more level instead of doming.”

  They worked side by side until six pans of corn bread were baked, covered with a quilt in the wagon and the kitchen was tidy. Callie changed into a navy blue gingham dress and pulled her hair back with a bright red-and-white ribbon. Chase wore denim pants and a dark blue shirt.

  As the wagon rolled along to the celebration grounds, Chase said, “You look lovely. Of course, you always do.”

  She blushed. “Thank you. You look very handsome, as well.”

  He winked, and her blush deepened. He flicked the reins and said, “So, you like to watch the children run and play. Do you want children?”

  Their gazes met, and she actually glowed. “I’d love a houseful. More, if I were so blessed.”

  The grin he gave her said he would do his best to oblige.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Hand-in-hand, they milled around the grounds after eating their fill of supper. Chase praised her corn bread repeatedly. He’d chucked down four pieces. The festivities were in full swing, with baseball at one end and crochet at the other. Men pitched horseshoes while women tended their younger children.

  While Matt and Chase played a game of horseshoes, the two women watched. Marianne turned to Callie. “Matt said he has months of training and wants to write to me. He asked that I do the same. Do you think I’m crazy?”

  Callie smiled. “No, you’re not crazy at all. Sounds like you might have actually found someone worthy of you. Follow your heart. If he’s the one, it’ll be worth the wait.”

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Sheriff Millet clapped Chase’s back. “Had time to talk you up to most of the board. Most feel two deputies could work. Looks like the job’s yours, if you want it.”

  “Sounds great. Thanks, Sheriff. Let’s talk tomorrow before I haul those three to Cheyenne.” They shook hands, and David tipped his head to Callie.

  “Congratulations.” She gave his cheek a peck. He took her hand and began walking.

  An hour before dusk, the band started playing. Chase led Callie to that area and they danced three dances. He led her to the side, again among the crowd.

  He turned to her and squeezed her hand. Keeping his voice low he said, “I feel our bond is so strong because I now know the value of such a precious gift and treasure it. I’m blessed you love me, and I’m so thankful you could trust me enough to find your heart and soul again.”

  He held her left hand and went down on one knee. “I love you and I want that house of children to share our lives and love with. I want those brighter tomorrows with you. Callie, will you marry me?”

  Silent tears slipped down her cheeks, and love beamed from her eyes. He held up a ring. His gaze captured hers—and the rest of the world ceased to exist.

  “This ring was my mother’s. I ask you if you’ll accept this ring as a token of my love and fidelity. If you prefer another, I’ll—”

  “Oh, Chase…it’s beautiful…Yes—I’m honored to accept this ring.” She smiled. “And yes, I will marry you.”

  Chase placed the ring on her finger, stood, and kissed her lightly on the lips. Then, he whispered, “I love you.”

  She repeated his words. The crowd roared.

  Finding a spot away from the crowd, Chase explained he and Matt would be leaving tomorrow to take the three prisoners to Cheyenne.

  “We’ll be gone two weeks…I’m wondering if that’ll be time enough to plan a wedding?”

  Callie’s heart soared. “That will be just about perfect.”

  Another boom rent the air, and the sky lit up with a brilliant display. Callie leaned back against Chase, savoring being held within his arms. Shouts from the crowd went up around them as a multitude of colors, sparkling and more dazzling than each one before, exploded overhead to shower down like colorful falling stars.

  Chase tipped his head down and his breath fanned her ear. “What do you say to going home to make our own fireworks?”

  Lip Smackin’ Good Corn Bread

  Submitted by Beverly Wells

  2 packages (6.5oz.) Betty Crocker Cornbread & Muffin mix

  1 stick butter (soft)—can use light

  8 oz. sour cream

  8 oz. can cream corn

  8 oz. can whole kernel corn

  2 eggs

  Preheat oven to 350’

  Beat eggs with whip till blended. Mix: all ingredients. Pour into greased 9x12 pan

  Bake approx. 30 minutes or until golden brown. Overbaking dries it out, under will be gooey.

  Wait 10 minutes to cut. Serve—Mm mm, lip smackin’ good!

  Refrigerate leftovers. Microwave 10 seconds or so to reheat. Always serve warm as honey or butter will taste so much better on it. May make smaller batches or larger, just portion accordingly—may to have change bake time.

  **If you prefer to use corn bread meal then add the standard dry ingredients called for in corn bread recipe, and then all moist ingredients from this recipe.

  ** Homemade Sour Cream: ¼ cup milk, ¾ tsp. White Vinegar, 1 cup heavy cream, stand 10 min., store 24 hours at room temp. covered. Chill till used.

  About Beverly Wells

  For years Beverly Wells worked a hectic pace as a Public Health Nurse in Homecare while also serving on the Medical Reserve Corps for Homeland Security. Little did she know when she decided to escape from reality and write a historical romance it would set another whirlwind to swirling. Now as an award-winning author, she devotes her full time to making writing her career. Bev enjoys writing humorous, sensuous historical romance while including a lesson learned or raising awareness of a heartfelt issue, or just a darn good heartwarming tale.

  She feels blessed not only to live on one of the Finger Lakes in NYS with her husband (who patiently puts up with her crazy writing world) and her devoted walking buddy, Jamie, a rescued black lab mix, but to have a wonderful and loving son, daughter-in law and two fantastic granddaughters plus oodles of treasured friends. She enjoys all lake activity, Nascar, volunteering at the local shelter, flower gardening( so she can get her hands good and dirty) and cooking for gathered friends.

  For more information regarding Bev, visit her at Prairie Rose Publications author page, her website @www.beverlywellsauthor.com, FB, twitter, blog @beverlywellsauthor.wordpress.com or gmail her @beverlywellsauthor@gmail.com She’d love to hear from you.

 

  A LOVE SO STRONG

  A Mail Order Bride Novel

  (Originally published as Only When the Loon Sings)

  EXCERPT

  CHAPTER ONE

  Washington Territory, 1880

  “Where are you, Luke Kincaid?” Morgan Prescott hissed through clenched teeth. “If you order a mail order bride, you should be here to meet her.”

  Morgan’s ire was so festered from stewing over her future husband’s long-delayed arrival she was surprised her hair hadn’t smoldered by now. Her backside prickled unmercifully, and she squirmed for the hundredth time on the hard bench outside the weathered general store. Stretching her back, she flexed her shoulders and ground the tip of her high-laced black shoes into the dirt. All failed to release her frustration.

  Nearly every man in this logging town had praised Luke Kincaid up and down for his exemplary leadership, backbreaking hard work, and infinite wisdom. Well, if he possessed all they claimed—it seemed mighty hard to believe from her standpoint—the paragon definitely lacked being punctual or considerate.

  “And my tongue will tell you as much, Mr. Not-So-Perfect,” she vowed to the waning sunlight, as if it might agree. By God, she’d give him a lashing when the rude man showed his face. How embarrassi
ng to be so blatantly neglected!

  For the first hour or so, she and the women she’d befriended on the ship had chatted while the men sorted through the list of names. Once each had staked his claim, so to speak, he rushed his bride-to-be into the saloon to become better acquainted. Most would have the traveling preacher tie the knot tonight, Morgan figured.

  And here she sat. Alone, discouraged, uncomfortable. Darn well offended. A loud creak rent the air as the saloon door opened, its harsh sound readily drowned out by the boisterous laughter from within.

  “Ho, there, Missy,” Hans called, stepping past the doorway, not thirty feet away. “Ya sure ya won’t come inside, have something ta warm yur innards? It’s turnin’ a mite chilly out. Never thought Luke would be this long.”

  Morgan returned the smile of the blond, bearded Swede who insisted on calling her Missy. She found his Swedish accent mingled with Western twang quite pleasant. He was a bear of a man, six foot or so of barreled chest, thick muscled arms, and broad shoulders that barely fit through a doorway, yet friendly, outgoing, and carefree.

  “Thank you, Mr. Svenson,” she called, raising her voice over the cacophony from inside. “But I’m fine. I’m sure Mr. Kincaid will arrive soon.” She glanced at the sun as it set a notch lower. With each passing minute, the chill rose. At least her rising temper kept her blood bubbling.

  “We won’t be havin’ any of that, now.” He closed the door, muffling the voices and music, and strode to her side. “I told ya we go by first names here. We’re like one happy family. Town’s too small to do otherwise.” His smile sent a twinkle to his eyes.

  For one brief moment, Morgan thought of her family, the note she’d left on her bed. Were they distraught? She felt so unsure of herself in this ramshackle logging town, and she’d not seen much of it, so far. Of course, there wasn’t much to see. Just a vast wilderness—predominantly trees reaching halfway to the sky—far more remote than she’d expected. She felt no regret for her decision. Yet. But deep down, she hoped she hadn’t caused her parents, as uncaring and insensitive as they had been, to worry.