Rescuing the Rancher
Book 8
Christmas Rescue Series
Cheryl Wright
RESCUING THE RANCHER
(Christmas Rescue Series – Book 8)
Copyright ©2020 by Cheryl Wright
Cover Artist: Black Widow Books
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book
Table of Contents
Rescuing the Rancher
Table of Contents
Thanks
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Epilogue
From the Author
Thanks
Thanks to my very dear friends (and authors), Margaret Tanner and Susan Horsnell for their enduring encouragement and friendship.
Thanks also to Alan, my husband of over 45 years, who has been a relentless supporter of my writing for many years.
And last, but by no means least, thank you to all my wonderful readers who encourage me to continue writing these stories. It is such a joy to me knowing so many of you enjoy reading my stories. I love writing them as much as you love reading them.
Chapter One
Mountain Ridge Ranch, Montana
Mid-November 1880
Jonah Saunders stood outside his ranch house sipping coffee. If it wasn’t for the overhanging porch he’d be dripping wet by now.
The rain was steady, and he had far too much to do to be standing here wasting time. In a matter of weeks, it would be Christmas. It was hard to believe it was more than a year since he lost his darling Sarah.
He’d been working the ranch that day, and when he came home, she was sitting at the table, face down, not moving. The children were milling around, trying to rouse her. The image would never leave his mind.
The two-year-old twins were crying, running around the room, not knowing what to do. By the time he found her, it was far too late, she’d been long gone. Probably a heart attack, the doc said, but perhaps a clot on the brain.
It was a terrible day, not only for Jonah, but for their children. He worried it would play on their minds as they got older.
Straight away his mother temporarily moved out to the ranch. He walked around in a fog for goodness knows how long. If it wasn’t for Ma, he had no idea how he would have managed.
In those first few months she did everything. Bathed, changed, and fed the children, as well as fed the adults. She cleaned the house and did the laundry. She also tried to push him back to reality, to pressure him into being the father he needed to be.
It took time, but he finally got there, but not without the help of Preacher Joseph Dean, who made regular visits to the ranch to check on him.
Ma was not in the best of health, and Jonah determined he needed to make other arrangements. It was her arthritis mostly – as much as she tried, she couldn’t do the things she used to do. Even baking was beyond her. As much as he hated the thought, Jonah had to remember his mother was now an old woman.
Ma helped as much as she could, despite his protests, and he truly appreciated it. He just worried for his aging mother. She had spent the best part of adulthood looking after her family on this very ranch, doing far too much despite his father’s constant protests. In her earlier days, she had worked as a housemaid.
He spun around as he heard Cora crying. He shoved the door to the ranch open and headed toward the children’s room. Leo was still sound asleep, goodness knew how. Cora’s high-pitched wailing was enough to wake the devil, as his mother always said.
“There, there, little one,” he said lovingly as he picked her up. No doubt she’d been dreaming, or perhaps having a nightmare about that dreaded day when her mother passed. He laid her gently against his shoulder and patted her back to calm her down.
Glancing across at Leo, he noticed the toddler was still sound asleep. If it weren’t for his ranch hands, his business would go under, Jonah was certain of it. Things couldn’t continue the way they were, with him taking days off to mind the children when his mother wasn’t up to it, while his workers took charge of the ranch.
He was beyond grateful for Hank Daley, his foreman. He kept the place together.
Jonah sat Cora on the bed, and glanced down in time to see her flash a smile at him. He gently tickled her tummy and she giggled.
What would he do without his two precious gems to care for? More likely than not he would have totally fallen in a heap and blocked out the entire world.
He was extremely blessed with his two beautiful children, and he knew it. Losing Sarah was the darkest day of his life, and he would never get over it. But he had to press on – had to ensure his off-spring received the love and care they deserved.
Despite all of this, every day was a blessing. Even on the worst days, he still said a prayer of thanks for these two bright sparks in his life.
An idea suddenly flashed in his mind. Perhaps he could advertise for a housekeeper.
~*~
Faith Perkins finished polishing the wooden table that sat in the Henrick’s kitchen. The house was almost spotless when she arrived and was sparkling by the time she left.
Coming in twice a week seemed pointless, but they insisted. Being the local banker, Mr Henrick insisted the place was perfect in case he decided to hold a dinner party.
He never did.
Mrs Henrick was more than capable of looking after the house herself, but she was certain it was more about appearances than the actual work she performed. If she hadn’t needed the small stipend she received from this job, she’d quit in a heartbeat.
She gave the table one last glance, then washed her hands. It was time to prepare biscuits for supper. The stew had been cooking for most of the day and would be ready when Mr Henrick arrived home.
Tomorrow she would clean for the Harrigan’s, then the Sanderson’s the next day, and two days after that, she’d be back here again. Her own home would be cleaned in between. There was never a day of rest for Faith.
She stretched herself out. She might only be twenty-six but this was hard work. Her body was already complaining, and she was eager to find something that would not be so harsh. Preferably with the one family, perhaps even live in.
Yes, that would work far better, but impossible to find, let alone secure.
Once she arrived home, it started all over again. With her own mother gone, it was left to Faith to look after her father and older brother, drunkards the pair of them, and cook all their meals, not to mention keep house and wait on them hand and foot.
Father took all but two dollars of her weekly earnings, so she was left with virtually nothing to show for her hard work.
She rubbed her neck then turned to the stove, stirring the stew once more before placing the biscuits in the oven.
As she closed the oven door, Faith heard the front door open. “It’s only me, Faith,” Mr Henrick called as he always did. He was a good employer and never wanted her to get a fright at his sudden arrival.
“Good evening, Mr Henrick,” she said brightly. “The biscuits are in the oven, and the stew is ready to serve. Mrs Henrick had a headache and is lying down.”
He pulled a face. Faith wished she could lay down sometime. She barely had enough time to sleep at night.
Mr Henrick pulled a newspaper out from under his arm and placed it
on the polished table. “I’ve finished with this,” he said. “Do me a favor and place it in the fire on your way out.”
“Of course, Mr Henrick,” she said, wanting to tell him to do it himself. Why did everyone treat her like a slave?
She snatched the paper up and glanced at the pages Mr Henrick had been reading. One advertisement caught her attention immediately.
Full-time Housekeeper Needed – cooking skills necessary.
It sounded perfect for her. She almost ran into the sitting room and ripped out the page, shoving it into her skirt pocket. She then tore up the remainder of the newspaper and threw the remaining pages into the burning fire.
She would read the entire advertisement when she got home, but it did sound promising. Faith pulled her cloak around herself and mounting the buggy, headed home. Excitement threatened to overwhelm her. But what would her father say?
That was a problem for another time.
~*~
As she strolled through the door to her son’s house, Martha handed Jonah the mail. Disappointment filled him.
It had been two weeks since he’d placed the advertisement. He was certain the applications would be overwhelming.
Not that he was keen to replace his dear wife, Sarah. He simply had no choice. He needed to have his children cared for, food cooked, and his home kept clean and tidy. There was no other option.
“There are two letters for you,” she said, handing the unsealed envelopes over. “The first one reeks of perfume,” she said raising her eyebrows. “Did you request a mail order bride or a housekeeper?”
She laughed, but Jonah found none of it funny. This was a last resort, and they both knew it. He scowled at his mother. He’d rather not do this at all. “You open them,” he said. “Now that you’re here, I need to get to work.”
“Really, Jonah. It’s your advertisement,” she said with exasperation clearly in her voice.
He was at the end of his tether. He’d had to take on extra ranch hands to cover his share of the work and look after his children instead. Not that he begrudged doing it, but he wasn’t good at it. Not really.
He glanced up at her as he spooned oats into his young son’s mouth.
“He can do that himself you know,” she told him scathingly, as she did most mornings. He ignored her words.
Reading his mood, Ma ripped the first envelope open. She glanced at him and rolled her eyes. “I told you this was a bad idea. Mary Adams is a widow with five children. Says she is more than capable of doing the job and would become your bride in a heartbeat.”
“Oh for goodness sakes – I didn’t advertise for a bride, only a housekeeper! Toss it in the fire, Ma.”
He watched the paper burn to a crisp before offering another spoon of oats to Leo.
“This one might be alright,” Ma said, her eyebrows raised. “She is a young woman of twenty-six and is currently working as a housekeeper and cook to four different households.”
He glanced up at her. “That sounds more like it. But why is she applying if she already has work?”
“Says she needs more stability and is growing tired of going to several houses over the week.”
He nodded. “That sounds feasible. Can you write and invite her here for dinner or something? So I can meet her.”
“You can write to her yourself. Did you mention the children in your advertisement?” Martha wanted to know. He squirmed in his chair as she scrutinized him closely. “Jonah? Tell me you did.”
He continued to squirm. “I thought it might put someone off,” he said, glancing across at her while continuing to feed the toddler.
“Seriously, Jonah! You need to tell her when you correspond back.” She near-threw the short-handwritten letter at him and left the room as Cora began to wail.
She was right. He knew she was right, but he was getting desperate. It would put any housekeeper off to know she had to care for two young children as well as keep house and cook for not only the family, but the ranch hands.
To that end, he included only the bare minimum of information. Besides, it would have cost a packet to include everything in the advertisement.
He decided to write to Miss Faith Perkins himself when he returned from work that evening. His mother would post the letter tomorrow before she returned to the ranch.
~*~
Pleased she had called into the Mercantile on her way home, Faith had read and re-read the response she’d received.
Dear Miss Perkins,
Thank you for your application. You sound exactly what I need. I know you live a few hours away in Hallowed Springs, but I would like to meet with you to discuss the position. There is more to it than only housecleaning and cooking, so if you’re still interested, please write back to make arrangements.
Kindest regards,
Jonah Saunders
Her heart fluttered – he was interested!
Faith didn’t dare mention the newsletter advertisement to her father, and carefully folded the letter and placed it in the pocket of her skirt. It was the one place she knew he dare not look.
The last thing he would want would be for Faith to leave home. If she did get the job advertised, she would have to find accommodation at Mountain Ridge, which was another twenty minutes further on than the Mountain Ridge Ranch. It was not much further than she was traveling now, and would be perfect.
This needed to be kept secret or she would never get away. She would have to carefully plan her escape, because it would indeed be an escape for her.
She closed her eyes and prayed it would all work out – she couldn’t take much more. She was already on the verge of a break-down.
Sitting at her dressing table in her nightgown, Faith brushed her long brown hair, fifty strokes every night. That’s what her mother taught her, and she would continue to do so, even if it was tiresome at times.
She glanced up at the mirror and squinted. The old dresser had outlived its time. The paint was peeling, and one leg had broken, causing it to sit at a slant. If father didn’t take her money, what amounted to stealing, she would replace it.
She pondered her difficult situation.
She had to get away. She absolutely must. If this position didn’t work out, she’d have to look for something else. There was no other option.
Living ten miles out of Hallowed Springs had its advantages. For one she didn’t have to face the locals very often. Besides, they all knew what her father was like. They’d encountered him over the years, and had only tolerated him for her sake.
Faith went straight from home to her cleaning job each day. She avoided all contact with people except the Mercantile.
She had no choice but to go there for supplies. Mrs Stanton was rather strange, but her husband was far easier to deal with.
Of course, she went to church each week. Even when Mother was alive, her father and brother refused to attend church, and she had no intention of pushing them. It was one of the few times she got to spend time away from them, except when she was working.
Besides, they were usually nursing a hang-over on Sunday mornings.
Harry could be downright savage at times. Not that he’d ever laid a hand on her, but there had been times she was convinced he would. Her brother Martin was little better. Had she been born a male, her life would be very different.
When she finished brushing her hair, Faith read over her shopping list. She would drop it at the Mercantile on her way to the Henrick’s in the morning. As was her usual routine, she would collect the order on her way home.
She could have it delivered, and was sorely tempted to do so, but the twenty-cent delivery fee came out of her own pocket. Father refused to have it added to his account. Anger flared though Faith. She really needed to leave. Not just from her current work commitments, but from her so-called family.
She prayed the housekeeping job she had applied for would work out. All she had now was hope.
Faith lay down in bed after saying her evening prayers, which alwa
ys included the wish for a better life. She was on the brink of sleep when her bedroom door flew open. She sprung up in bed with fright.
“What, what’s wrong?” she asked in her half-asleep stupor, scurrying further back on the bed.
Harry stood staring down at her, his face contorted in anger, then reached out and snatched her out of bed. “Where’s my coffee,” he screamed in a drunken stupor. “You forgot my coffee! Get out there and make it,” he screamed again, this time so close to her face she could smell the alcohol on his breath and feel the coldness of his heart.
Faith quickly jumped out of bed, and snatching up her robe, ran ahead of him. She hadn’t forgotten his coffee – she wouldn’t be so stupid as to give him leave to berate her as he’d done. He was almost rolling down drunk, he was so intoxicated.
It made her sick to her stomach.
This was not the first time this had happened, nor would it be the last. At least not unless Faith could put some sort of plan in to place to get away permanently.
She pulled her robe up around herself and bare-footed, headed toward the kitchen. In his drunken stupor, Harry fell sideways, knocking her into the doorway. Faith would be lucky if she didn’t have a black eye tomorrow.
His soiled mug was sitting on the kitchen counter – proof she’d provided his evening coffee, but Faith was not stupid enough to tell him so.
He’d once threatened to backhand her for talking back, as he’d called it, and she wasn’t willing to tempt fate.
She made his coffee and delivered it to her drunken father in the sitting room. By this time, he was fast asleep in his chair. Martin was passed out in front of the fire.
Disgusting, the pair of them. How had she managed to end up with a lazy good-for-nothing father, and a brother who was no better?
After her mother had died, father began drinking. Only a little at first, but it increased as the years went by. Once Martin was old enough, he was introduced to the same lifestyle her father enjoyed. She would not continue to be a slave to these men who called themselves her family.
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