The Precious Secret of Her Heart – Extended Epilogue

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3 years later

Summer – 1877

The rumble of wagons reached Willa’s ears, prompting her heart to leap with excitement. In the kitchen, she quickly untied her apron strings, hung the apron on the hook by the stove, and smoothed her hair and then her dress. Footsteps above prompted her to glance upward.

“Clinton! They’re here!”

She cringed as her three-year-old, Matthew, came bounding down the steps, his father calling after him to slow down and watch where he was going. Named after her husband’s deceased father, Matthew was a force to be reckoned with, always moving, always giggling, and of course, keeping Willa busy. The toddler raced into the kitchen and flung himself into his mother’s arms. Willa scooped him up and held him close, relishing the smell of his skin as he wrapped his arms around her neck, practically bouncing with excitement in her arms.

She set him down, smoothed his wild, unruly dark brown hair and crouched in front of him, hands on his shoulders. Dark brown eyes the color of chocolate stared back at her, along with a never-ending smile. She gently tweaked his nose.

“Now I want you to be on your very best behavior today, Matthew, do you understand?”

He nodded solemnly. “Yes, Mama.”

“All right, you be—“

Willa didn’t get any further with her admonitions before Matthew wiggled out of her arms and raced outside through the open front door, his happy cries prompting a soft chuckle. Moments later, Clinton came down the stairs, holding two tiny bundles in the crooks of his arms. She looked up and watched as he neared the bottom, unable to contain her own sense of exuberance.

As Clinton neared, heading for the main sitting room, Willa placed a gentle hand on his arm, prompting him to pause. She gazed into the adorable faces of her twins, who had just turned four months old. They were identical, just like Clinton’s brothers, Andrew and Harvey.

The twins, George and Thomas, had been named after the early presidents. The babies slept in their father’s arms, and like Matthew when he was born, had dark brown hair and beautiful blue eyes. Maybe their eyes would stay blue, or they might change into the unusual color of her husband’s eyes, a shade of warm, dark honey. As far as Willa was concerned, they were magnificent. She watched with a smile as Clinton gently lowered the babies into the bassinet they shared just as the sound of horse’s hooves, trace chains, and squeaking springs grew louder.

“They’re here! They’re here!”

Willa tucked a well-used beaded leather baby blanket around the babies and then followed Clinton to the door, where he hushed Matthew, warning that he would wake up the babies. She stood on the porch, watching as two wagons and a buggy entered their yard. She passed one more discerning gaze over the yard, critically eying the two tables covered with red and white checked tablecloths, benches along either side, their corners held down by small rocks against the midafternoon breeze.

She lifted a hand to shield her eyes against the bright sun, her heart racing with excitement and her eyes filling with tears as she watched her guests arrive. Today was a celebration of sorts, of family and for blessings received. Clinton clung to Matthew’s hand, preventing him from darting out into the yard where he might scare the horses with his boundless enthusiasm. Finally, his wiggling prompted Clinton to lift the boy into his arms.

Willa watched them both, her pride immeasurable as little Matthew wrapped an arm around his father’s neck. Clinton wore a smile that warmed her heart as he too watched the guests arrive. Soon, a cacophony of greetings and laughter floated over the yard and hugs warmed Willa’s heart. It was hard to believe that this was her life now, a life filled with happiness, children, laughter, and a husband whom she deeply loved.

After learning that she was carrying their first child, Clinton had semi-retired from his position as deputy sheriff. Sheriff Hand Mathers had already retired, so it was natural that Billy step into the role. Now Sheriff William Green stepped down from his wagon and lifted his arms to help his wife off the wagon seat. Billy, witnessing the success of Clinton’s own marriage after placing an ad for a wife – without Clinton’s knowledge – in newspapers around the country, he had followed suit and placed his own ad for a mail-order bride. Several months later, just before winter had set in the year Willa had arrived, sweet Abigail McLeod made her first appearance in Reprobate. With fiery red hair and a personality to match, Abigail McLeod was beloved by the townspeople, but not more than by Billy himself. She kept Billy on the straight and narrow, and she and Willa had become good friends.

Willa stepped toward Abigail and gave her friend a gentle hug, gazing down at the young woman’s swollen belly. “Two more months, Abigail,” she commented. She turned to Billy. “You ready?”

Billy gave Willa a hug as well, then looked at his wife, resting a hand on her belly, his proud grin unmistakable. “I can already tell he’s going to be quite the handful, kicking all the time, impatient to see the world, just like his mother.”

Abigail gave Billy a serene smile. “ Her mother.”

Billy laughed and glanced at Clinton. “Maybe we’ll have one of each. Twins, like Willa and Clinton.”

“Och, bite your tongue, Billy!”

“They inside?” Abigail asked.

Willa nodded. “Clinton just put them down in the bassinet in the sitting room. Go on in and peek at them if you’d like. I have a feeling that all this racket is going to wake them up in a few minutes anyway.”

Several moments later, movement caught Willa’s eye and she glanced up toward the knoll overlooking their farm. Another wagon topped the hill, this one filled with people. Willa spied Clinton’s mother, Margaret, sitting on the bench seat next to Harvey, who carefully guided the wagon down the hill. By the time the wagon reached the yard, she noticed Andrew and two women sharing the back of the backboard gate, which had been lowered. Inside, three children, tiny hands grasped the sides of the wagon as it bounced and jolted from side to side. Two of the children belonged to Andrew, who sat on the gate of the wagon, his arm draped around the shoulders of the former Sally McGrath, daughter of the mercantile owner, whom Andrew had courted and married not long after his brother Clinton had gotten hitched.

The other child, a bit younger, belonged to Harvey, who like Clinton and Billy, had succumbed to the temptation to place an ad for a mail order bride as well. His blond-haired and blue-eyed porcelain doll of a wife named Helga, had come from Boston, the daughter of a poor immigrant family who had arrived from Germany only to find that jobs were few and housing was even more difficult to procure.

Willa’s heart warmed at the sight of all of them, and as adults and children climbed or were lifted from the wagons, the children were already whooping and hollering, chasing each other around the yard, the two-year-olds giggling as they chased the chickens. Willa shook her head in amazement.

How blessed she had been to answer that at in the paper, and how fortunate she had found Clinton. Reprobate continued to grow and prosper, as had they. Clinton had worked hard on the farm and made enough money from his crops to purchase additional land from the neighboring ranch owners. Now, as their fifth anniversary approached, they owned a small horse herd of prized Morgan horses, which Clinton advertised and sold to breeders not only in Texas, but all along the Mississippi.

Clinton’s mother, Margaret, approached, her hair a bit grayer, a few more wrinkles on her face, but her eyes just as sharp as ever. She critically gazed at her son, and then at Willa before she offered a smile and a hug for each.

“You two look like you’re faring well despite the rampaging toddler and two new babies in the house.” She glanced at Clinton. “You keep this up, you’re going to have to add an addition to the house.”

Clinton laughed.

While Abigail and Billy had entered the house to take a peek at the twins, Sally and Helga remained outside, looking at the tables, the paper lanterns hung in the trees, and the paper ribbons that Willa had draped along the porch and wound around the banisters.

Sally nodded, arms akimbo. “Well, I’d say that when Willa wants to have a party, Willa has a party!”

Willa laughed and joined the young women. “It’s not really a party, more like a reunion of sorts, or call it a gathering of family and dear friends. Thank you for coming.”

“Do you need any help with anything?” Helga asked. “I’m ready to pitch in.”

Willa turned to Helga, enjoying the sound of her accent. The woman’s English continued to get better and better, her vocabulary growing, and her willingness to help anyone who asked for it had already endeared her not only to the Warren clan, but to the citizens of Reprobate.

“Maybe when everything is ready to dish up, you can help me bring the food to the tables.” She glanced over her shoulder and watched as Billy, Clinton, and his two brothers gathered in a small huddle near the bottom of the porch steps, laughing at something. The sight of them all gathered touched her deeply.

Even so, her spirits were dampened slightly as she continued to dart her gaze toward the knoll, waiting and wondering if one last buggy or wagon would top it and come down into the yard. Two years ago, her Aunt Rachel and her husband had left New Orleans and made their new home in Houston. Better business, Rachel’s husband had claimed, but Willa wondered.

She never gave much thought to Richard Buchanan, but her aunt had told her that he had thrown his hat in the ring for the city’s mayor post. The thought of such a wicked man holding a position of such importance made her stomach curdle.

She pushed thoughts of Richard Buchanan from her mind and excused herself to go check on the twins and the meal. As she passed the men, Clinton excused himself and joined his wife as they entered the house. Remarkably, the babies still slept in their bassinet despite the noise of children squealing out in the yard.

“You all right?” Clinton asked, following her into the kitchen. “You keep looking toward the hill.”

Willa offered a small shrug. “Well, I can’t deny that I was looking forward to seeing Rachel, but she might not even be in Houston. She might not even have received my letter and invitation. You know that her husband, George, has been very busy traveling as he reestablishes his business in Houston. She might have gone with him this time.”

“Could be,” Clinton nodded. He stood beside her for several moments. Willa sensed there was something else he wanted to tell her. “What is it?”

He smiled at her. “I can’t keep anything from you, can I?”

She returned the smile and shook her head. “No. So what is it?”

“Billy received a letter from Annabelle.”

Willa lifted an eyebrow. No one had heard anything from Annabelle and her so-called bounty hunter turned winemaker, Benjamin Steele, for quite some time. Just the mention of her name brought back memories, most of them not so good. “And?”

“He says that she seems to be doing well, as is their business. They have a daughter now, a three-year-old.”

Willa thought about that as she stirred sliced lemons into a large picture of sun tea, but then she nodded. “I’m glad. She deserves to find some happiness in her life, too.”

It was hard to believe that five years ago, Annabelle had tried to poison her with arsenic because she wanted Clinton all to herself. So much had happened back then. Secrets and mistrust had slowly given way to faith, trust, and love. Maybe everyone had to go through tough times in order to appreciate the good things in life.

She turned to look at Clinton, a wooden spoon in one hand, reaching for her apron with the other. Clinton stepped closer, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her close. She sank into his embrace, her head resting against his chest, hearing the thud of his heartbeat beneath her ear. Never would she grow tired of his hugs. Never would she grow weary of the sense of protection that his presence gave her.

“I love you, Willa Warren.”

Though he couldn’t see it, she smiled, relishing the scent of him, his solid frame, her husband and father of her children. “And I love you too, Clinton Warren.” She lifted her head. “Now, you better leave me alone or our food is going to burn.”

He chuckled softly, gave her one last hug, kissed the top of her head, and then stepped away, heading for the front door, pausing only long enough to gaze down once more at his twin boys sleeping in the bassinet in the sitting room.

Her heart bursting with love, tears of happiness once again warming her eyes, Willa turned to the stove. She had just started to reach for her porcelain dishes when she heard Clinton’s voice from outside.

“Willa! Come on out here!”

Glancing between the food on the stove and the open doorway, Willa paused for several moments in indecision. At that moment, Sally and Abigail entered the house. They too stopped briefly to peer into the bassinette, all smiles as they gazed down at the twins. Then they entered the kitchen.

“Give me your apron,” Abigail said, brooking no refusal.

Sally snatched the spoon from her hand.

Both of them wore grins. Curious, Willa untied her apron once more, handed it to Abigail, and then moved toward the front door. She stepped out onto the porch, sending a raised eyebrow in Clinton’s direction. Without saying a word, he gestured with his chin.

She looked toward the knoll and froze. A buggy sat atop it, pulled by one horse. She lifted her trembling hand to her mouth, brushed her eyes with the other one, and then stepped into the yard, where the others too had paused their merrymaking to watch the buggy slowly make its way down the hill. She couldn’t see into the deeper shadows of the buggy, but Willa knew. Aunt Rachel had come. Her beloved Aunt Rachel had come!

She stepped to Clinton’s side and watched the buggy come down the hill. Even the children had stopped playing, running toward their fathers, clinging to legs and hands. Willa stood, trembling from excitement, Clinton’s arm firmly around her shoulder.

“She came,” Willa whispered. “Aunt Rachel came.”

“That she did,” Clinton agreed.

Willa practically bounced with impatience as the buggy finally reached the bottom of the hill and pulled into the yard. She was able to make out Aunt Rachel’s features as she carefully guided the buggy toward them. Andrew stepped forward to grasp the horse’s halter, bringing the buggy to a halt. It was only then that Willa noticed the shadow of another person seated on the rear seat of the buggy, its cover casting the form into deep shadow. It couldn’t be Rachel’s husband, George. George would have been the one to guide the buggy down the hill.

Clinton stepped forward as Rachel wrapped the reins around the brake handle. He lifted his arms and helped her aunt down. Instead of coming immediately to Willa, Aunt Rachel simply looked at her, smiled, and then spoke quietly to Clinton. He nodded, then moved to the rear of the buggy, opened the half door, and extended his arm.

To Willa’s amazement, an arm protruded from the darkened interior of the buggy. Clinton gestured toward Andrew, who also stepped forward. Arms extended, they helped the passenger out. Willa gasped when she realized the passenger was a very old, tiny woman, and despite the warmth of the day, was enveloped in a large, black cloak with a hood covering her head. She frowned with confusion, wondering who it was.

Andrew and Clinton helped lift the old woman out of the buggy and then stood on either side of her, arms ready to steady her if necessary. Willa watched in amazement as the small woman slowly straightened and lifted an incredibly bony arm with long, slender fingers upward to remove the hood from her head.

It was then that Willa saw the long, gray hair platted into two braids that reached over her shoulders and down nearly to her waist. Her face bore the wrinkles of a great age. The top of the woman’s head barely reached Clinton’s chest. The old woman’s gaze swept around the yard and then latched onto Willa. She took a step closer, standing on her own and her steps tiny and careful as both Clinton and Andrew stood nearby, prepared to support her if necessary.

Willa stared as the old woman approached. She looked to be at least a hundred years old, her body frail, but her eyes, black as coal, never left Willa’s. Willa glanced at her aunt, saw her smiling, and then she realized. Her eyes widened as she sought any sense of her mother’s features in the old woman. Maybe the shape of the jaw, but undoubtedly, those eyes, so sure, evoking a sense of inner strength that went beyond the physical form.

Willa swallowed thickly, barely containing her own excitement. She stepped forward, her arms extended, her hands trembling as she finally spoke, her voice shaky and uncertain.

“ Kaku ?”

The old woman smiled at her and nodded, giving her a toothless smile. A lump in Willa’s throat grew larger until she couldn’t contain the single, happy sob that erupted moments later.

“Grandmother!” Tears pooled in Willa’s eyes and trickled down her cheeks as she gently wrapped her grandmother into her arms. Her mother’s mother. She couldn’t believe it. She wept quietly, burying her face into the old woman’s shoulders as the woman clasped her arms around Willa, strong and sure, supporting her.

After several moments, she looked over the old woman’s shoulder at Rachel’s flushed features, tears of her own staining her cheeks. And then she looked at Clinton, also smiling, his eyes wet as Willa met her grandmother in the flesh for the first time.

Everyone gathered around, tears in more than several eyes as Willa finally straightened, staring down into old woman’s face, trying to memorize every line, every wrinkle, every angle. She felt movement at her side and then Clinton stood beside her, each arm cradling a twin as he slowly bent down and offered the old woman her first look at her great-grandchildren.

“Welcome to the family,” Clinton said, smiling at the old woman.

Willa’s heart bursting with joy, she wrapped her arm around Clinton’s waist and nodded with satisfaction. Family. Friends. And plenty of love to go around. She couldn’t have asked or prayed for more.

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OFFER: A BRAND NEW SERIES AND 2 FREEBIES FOR YOU!

Grab my new series, "Courageous Hearts of the West", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!

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