Chapter One
Mason, North Carolina 1887
“Annie, are you sure this is what you want to do?”
Twenty-five-year-old Annie Huntley fingered the tattered ink smudged letter she held clasped in her lap and tried her very best not to shake her head. No, this is not what she wanted to do, not at all, but she had no choice. She glanced up at her older sister and forced a brave smile.
“It’s my only choice, Sarah.”
“No, it’s not.” Speaking gently, Sarah leaned closer to Annie and placed her hand gently on her arm. “Please don’t go. We can make it work. We can figure something out.”
Annie heard the tears in her sister’s voice and forced back her own. The lump in her throat grew larger by the second. “You have your husband and child to take care of, with another one on the way. You don’t need another mouth to feed at your table.”
Annie considered her situation dire. She never imagined that she would have to make the awful decision to leave her older sister. The thought of it filled her with a sense of dread, but she also knew that she had to do what was right for Sarah and Martin also. Their parents had died in the forest fire two summers ago, leaving Annie homeless. Sarah had already been married and living on the next parcel of land, and due to the vagaries of fire and wind, her home had been spared. Annie had not only lost her parents and her home, but had barely escaped their burning home with her life and now bore the physical scars of the tragedy. She had taken some comfort that they had one another to lean on in their grief.
It was unfortunate that Sarah’s husband, Martin, though a good, hard-working farmer, was still struggling to produce a decent crop after several years of bad luck. Sarah and Martin had been married three years ago, the year before their parents died. There was no doubt the two loved each other and were devoted to one another, but even the strength of a strong marital union was no match for Mother Nature. Sarah had been with child when the forest fire had ripped through the northern edge of the county, killing their parents and leaving Annie horribly injured. The trauma and the grief had caused Sarah to deliver early. Little Marcus was a sickly child who not only required numerous visits to the doctor, but close supervision by his parents.
Sarah had cared for Annie at their home as she recuperated from her injuries, but four months ago, Sarah had informed her that she was with child again. Annie didn’t have to second-guess the look in her sister’s eyes: the strain, the fatigue, and the worries. Only lately Martin had begun to grumble when he didn’t think she could hear. He was not a cruel or selfish man, but he was struggling to feed and clothe his own family, and Annie was another mouth to feed. She knew that her welcome, at least on his part, was wearing thin. She decided then to do something about it. What exactly, hadn’t come to her right away.
The injuries she sustained in the fire had left her with numerous scars. The flames had licked greedily at her skin as she had tried to run from the house to immerse herself in the creek not fifty feet from their home. The fire had swept over their property without warning in the middle of the night, catching them all unaware until her father had suddenly started shouting.
“Get to the creek! Get to the creek!”
Annie had jolted upright in bed, her heart pounding and her eyes taking in the strange orange glow in the air. She had heard an odd roaring sound and then she smelled it, the smoke, almost tasting the aroma of wood and grass burning. She remembered hearing her mother scream and her father urging them all outside.
Being young and fleet of foot, Annie had been the first out of the do. Herer father and mother, holding hands, were right behind her. What she had seen at that moment caused her to freeze in horror. A wall of flames at least twenty feet high or more rushed across their property and toward their house.
“Go Annie! Run!”
She had tried, truly she had, her heart thundering and terror prompting her forward, but the flames were upon them in seconds. She heard nothing but the cracking, snapping, and roaring right behind her. She felt the heat on her face and struggled to breathe as the air soaked in ash. The flames were so hot, the hiss of them surrounded her as she ran as fast as she could. Just as she reached the banks of the creek, she’d tripped and fell into six-inch deep water, submerging her face briefly before she managed to turn herself over. Her eyes widened with horror when she saw nothing but flames before her.
While she hovered between life and death those first few days after the fire, her parents had been buried. She had gradually healed but had been scarred for life, some of the scars worse than others. The one on her lower back and her right knee caused her pain once in a while, a restriction of movement depending on the weather and what she was doing. Yet it was the scars on her face that had caused the most damage, at least mentally and emotionally. She had been beautiful once, or at least that’s what her parents and her sister told her. Yet the first time she’d stared at her reflection in a mirror after the fire, she’d covered her mouth with her hand, closed her eyes and her mouth opened in a silent wail.
She jolted back to the present as her sister squeezed her hand. “We’ll find a way to stay together. I know we will.”
“No, Sarah, I don’t think we can. I have little choice. I’ve tried to find a job in town, but no one wants me.” Her sister started to speak, and she lifted a hand. “No, it’s true, and you know it. We both have to face the truth.”
“Annie…”
Once more, Annie felt tears brimming in her eyes. She blinked them back, determined to be strong, and pretend what she had done was perfectly normal. That she truly looked forward to such a grand adventure, even though every time she thought about it she felt sick to her stomach and almost dizzy with anxiety.
“No one around here is interested in me… the scars. You know as well as I do that my prospects of marriage are dim. Very dim.”
The left side of her face had been left untouched by the flames, and her smooth skin was an ivory color. The right side of her face had been damaged from the top of her forehead, down her right temple, along her cheekbone and jaw line in front of her ear, and then down a bit of her neck. In some areas, the skin was simply red and somewhat shiny, though the flames that had touched the area around her temple and the edge of her hair and cheekbone damaged deeper. In those places, her once smooth skin was now marred by raised and otherwise leathery scar tissue in varying shades of pink or red.
It’d taken some time for her neighbors, acquaintances, and even friends in her part of town to become accustomed to this new Annie Huntley. Some did, but others found her scars so off-putting that they avoided her altogether. Even so, she counted herself fortunate. She hadn’t lost her eyes and ears, nor her nose or mouth. She was still whole, if somewhat worse for wear.
Sarah squeezed her right hand, also scarred, but not so much that she had lost use of the muscles and tendons, yet enough so that she always felt like the skin there was tight, like she wore a glove that was a size too small.
“It’s time for me to make a future for myself somewhere.” She shrugged, avoiding her sister’s eyes. The fact is, she had heard Martin and Sarah talking one evening not long ago. She remembered it word for word as the two of them had sat next to each other at the kitchen table sharing a mug of coffee, thinking that she was fast asleep in the loft upstairs. Their whispering voices had woken her.
“I don’t know if we can do this, Sarah. With the bad luck we’ve had with the crops the past two seasons, Marcus’s health constantly requiring medicine, and another baby on the way, I can barely put food on the table as it is.”
“But Martin, you know as well as I do she’s tried to find work in town, but nobody wants her. There are so many of them that just can’t seem to see beyond the scars, can’t see what a sweet, intelligent, and determined young woman she is.”
Martin snorted. “You know as well as I do that many people judge people by how they look, not who they are, and unfortunately, Annie has joined their ranks. Look, I don’t like it any more than you do, but we’ve barely got two dollars to rub together at any given time. If things get much worse, I might have to leave and go work at one of the mines—”
“No, Martin, you can’t!”
Their quiet conversation continued, but Annie had blocked out their words. Her heart sank as she realized that everything they had said was true. Until the fire destroyed their lives, Annie had dreamed of one day opening a dress shop in town. Her skill with needle and thread was unchallenged, but ever since the fire, no one had asked her to make a dress or a pair of slacks. The townspeople were polite, but she knew that her scars frightened them. Didn’t they realize she was still the same person inside? Yes, some of her friends and acquaintances were kind and didn’t whisper behind their hands about her appearance, but when she had gone to business owners who had known her all her life, looking for employment to help out her sister- and brother-in-law, there had been one excuse after the other.
She gestured to the letter in her lap and extracted a ticket from it. “Mister Covington sent me a ticket.”
Worry twisted Sarah’s features. “Where is that?”
“I found a map at the depot. It’s a town located between Tulsa and the Wichita mountains in the southwest part of the territory.”
Sarah frowned. “But isn’t Oklahoma Territory where they put all the warring tribes of Indians onto reservations?”
Annie nodded. “Yes, but there’s lots of ranch land out there too, and after the war, the government allowed any citizen who had borne arms in the war could go out there and lay claim to one-hundred-sixty acres of surveyed land.”
“And your Mister Covington? Is he one of those?”
“I don’t think so. From what he wrote, his ranch has been out there for over twenty-five years. He must have inherited it. He said he owns thousands of acres, a big spread, as he calls it. It’s a large house. There are several outbuildings, horses and cow, plus cow hands.”
Sarah glanced pointedly at the letter that Annie clutched between her fingers. “Is that his most recent letter? Would you mind reading it to me?”
Annie hesitated, but then simply nodded, unfolded the paper, and read out loud.
Miss Huntley,
As mentioned in my previous letter, I need a wife to help me out on the ranch. I need someone who can cook, as well as keep house. I need someone who is not afraid of hard work, as I have numerous yard animals to care for. I also have a son. Having a pretty woman around doesn’t hurt either. You agreed in your last letter to accept my marriage proposal. Included in this letter, you will find your tickets for the train that will take you as far as Topeka. Then you have a ticket for the stagecoach that will take you to Winfield. I will meet you at the stage depot there.
Signed, Cleo Covington
Annie didn’t have to look at Sarah’s face to sense her dismay. She stiffened her jaw and looked at her sister, hiding her own feelings of uncertainty, fear, and disappointment. Still, it was the only reply she had gotten after placing a bridal ad in the newspaper, and as the saying goes, beggars cannot be choosers.
“Annie, does he know about what happened?”
Annie glanced at her sister. “You mean about my scars?” She shrugged. “I told him in my last letter, when I accepted the proposal, that I have a few scars.”
“He didn’t ask any details?”
Annie shook her head. “No, he said it didn’t matter.”
“But… but Annie…no hint of…” She sat upright and frowned. “Well, it’s right to the point, isn’t it? He needs a cook and housekeeper, someone to look after his child. Not very romantic, is he?”
Annie took a deep breath, swallowed her pride, and responded. “No, not very romantic, Sarah, but maybe after I get there and we get to know each other a little better, things will change.” Sarah made a sound in her throat and then once more leaned forward, her tone imploring.
“Please don’t do this, Annie. Please. I don’t want you to leave.” Her voice cracked. “If you go, I might not ever see you again.” She gestured to the letter. “You don’t know this man from Adam. He might not be a nice man. How can you think of agreeing to marry a man that you never laid eyes on or spent even a few minutes with?”
Annie tried to prevent any hint of despair from reaching her voice. “I have little choice, Sarah. I refuse to stay here and be a burden on you and Martin.”
“Annie.”
Annie lifted her hand. “No, it’s true, Sarah. And let’s be honest. I have to do this, no matter how it may turn out. I’ve been trying to do as much as I can around here in return for the roof over my head and my food on the table. I’ve been helping with the cooking, with the laundry, with the gardening and yard chores, so actually, it’s not much different from what I’ll be expected to do over there.”
“But—”
“Sarah, please try to understand. I’m very grateful for everything that you and Martin have done for me. But I can’t; it’s time for me to go.” She placed a hand over her sister’s. “Please try to understand.”
“I do, Annie, I really do, but I don’t want you to ever think that what Martin and I have tried to give you is charity because it isn’t. It’s one family member helping another.”
“I know,” Annie said softly. She glanced down at the letter she held, her emotions in turmoil, her doubts many, but Martin’s whispered voice at the kitchen table that night had spoken the truth.
She looked up at her sister, her eyes shining with tears and a tremulous smile on her lips. “I’ll be leaving within the week, Sarah.”
Leaving her sister sitting at the kitchen table, silent tears streaming from her eyes, Annie had gathered what dignity and pride she could and strode from the small home and out into the yard. Only when she disappeared into the shade of the woods surrounding the property did she break into a run, tears of anguish erupting from her throat. She ran deep into the woods, through one clearing and then into another and finally, her chest heaving, sobs erupting from her throat, she arrived at the edge of yet another.
Her heart wrenched yet again as she stared at the remnants of the home she had grown up in. Its charred ruins mocking her previous innocence and happy-go-lucky attitude of life. The burnt remains stood starkly in the middle of the meadow, a bare section of corral and a half-standing wall of the former barn offering testimony to a life that had once been filled with happiness and laughter now turned to darkness and grief.
She stood staring at the ruins for the longest time but then, lifting her skirt, made her way through the knee-high grass of the meadow beyond the house, not paying attention to the early spring flowers dotting the landscape with splashes of color as she moved along the creek toward the edge of the woods surrounding the meadow. There, beneath the leaves of a stand of loblolly pine, she crumpled to her knees in front of the two graves marked by crosses.
Somberly, she brushed pine needles and reddish-brown pine cones from the surface of the mounds, and then straightened one of the two crosses that stood at the head of each grave. The names of her parents were carved into each one.
Abraham Huntley 1838–1885 and Isabel Huntley 1840–1885
Sitting cross-legged between the two graves, she placed a hand on each mound. “Mama, Papa, I’ll be leaving soon, for Indian Territory.” She fought back the tears and tried to be brave, forcing a smile. “I’m getting married, Mama, and I’m to start a new life out on the frontier.” She turned to the other grave. “Don’t worry about me, Papa. I’ll be fine. You know me, stubborn to a fault, determined to have my own way, to make my own mark someday.”
She didn’t tell them anything about her doubts of falling in love with this man who had offered her marriage, nor had she admitted to Sarah that she didn’t feel as if Mister Covington cared one whit about her, but only wanted someone to cook and clean and take care of him. This was not exactly a marriage that Annie had ever considered for herself, but she had to put childish dreams behind her forever.
Chapter Two
“So, when are you going to meet your new stepmother?”
Nick turned a startled glance to Cody as they sat on their horses on the top of a rise, watching a portion of the herd spread out in the narrow valley below them. “What?”
Cody, a childhood friend, a best friend and now the owner of the town’s lumber mill, turned to him with equal surprise. “You didn’t know?”
Nick shifted in his saddle and pulled his battered cowboy hat from his head, brushing his fingers roughly through his hair. He needed a haircut. He brushed a hand over his cheeks. He needed a shave, too. He’d been out on the range with the cattle the past week, finishing up the branding and hadn’t been into town in probably two weeks. Cody had ridden over this morning to let him know that the lumber that Nick and his father needed for repairs to the barn would be delivered within the next couple of days.
Nick frowned at his friend. “What are you talking about?”
Cody snorted and shook his head. “I see that your relationship with your father hasn’t improved any.”
Now it was Nick’s turn to snort. “Why should it?” It was the truth. His father had never been an easy man to live with or even be around. Their relationship had only grown worse after his mother passed away last summer. The surly man had grown even surlier, his complaints more constant, no longer bothering to stifle some of them, and his disparaging comments to Nick had grown more frequent.
No, Cleo Covington was not a well-liked man in or around Winfield, but he was rich, and so the townspeople and even his business associates tolerated him. They didn’t have to live with them, lucky them. Things had gotten so bad between him and his father that he had moved out of the main house just a month or two after his mother died. He lived in a small cabin that he had built in a meadow almost a mile from the main ranch house.
“Gee, Nick, if I had known that you didn’t know, I wouldn’t have opened my big mouth.”
“Well, you did, and now I want to know. What’s this about a stepmother?”
Chagrined, Cody shook his head and then turned back to Nick. “Well, I heard it from Elliott Whitmore at the mercantile, who heard it from Barnabas Leach at the saloon.”
Nick closed his eyes for a moment and strove for patience. Small towns prompted more gossip than he could believe. Everybody seemed to know everybody else’s business, and gossip traveled fast. “Heard what?”
Cody turned once more in his saddle toward Nick, saddle leather squeaking softly as he did so. “Now keep in mind I’m just relating what I heard, all right?”
“Cody.”
“All right. Anyway, I heard it from Elliot, who heard it from Barnabas one day when your Pa went into the saloon for a drink or two that he had sent off for mail-order bride.”
Nick stared at his friend, stunned speechless. His father, who couldn’t get along with anyone, wanted another wife? And so soon after his own mother, Lucinda’s passing? His mother, God bless her soul, had been the kindest, most patient woman that ever walked the face of the earth to put up with him for so long. By the time he was sixteen, Nick realized that his father didn’t love anybody, and while his mother might have loved Cleo once, a long time ago, she hadn’t for years. At least he didn’t think so.
Truth be told, she tolerated Cleo and never said a disparaging word against him, even to her own grown son, although the opposite couldn’t be said. In fact, his mother had gone through her days, year after year, with a pleasant appearance, her shoulders back in her head high as if she had not a care in the world, that she didn’t have a mean old husband who only knew how to grumble and complain about one thing or another.
What love his mother no longer gave to her husband, she gave to Nick, and he would always remember her gentle touch, her smile, and her dignity. Of course, Cleo wasn’t blind and saw the extra affection that his mother gave him, which only widened the rift between the two of them. So much so that Nick, although the son of one of the wealthiest families in the region thanks to their sprawling cattle ranch, was relegated to the role of a typical cow hand on the ranch. Despite the fact that it had been his mother’s family money that had been brought into the marriage all those years ago, Cleo now ran his ranch with a tight fist. He refused to give Nick any say on hot to run the ranch. Told him if he wanted to stay, he had to earn his keep.
Why didn’t he just leave? He had seriously considered it several times over the years, but frankly, the ranch was his past and maybe even his future. For now, though, he earned his wages as any other cow hand working for a ranch owner.
“Did you hear me?”
“I heard you,” Nick replied. “But honestly, I can’t imagine my father even writing a letter to beg for a bride.”
“I can understand that,” Cody commiserated. “But apparently he got a reply from one and, from what I heard, he bought a train ticket to get her as far as Topeka.”
Nick frowned. What woman in her right mind would agree to marry his father? He’d just turned fifty-five, constantly grumbled about arthritic joints, and had sworn that no woman would live under the same roof with him ever again.
“So, he just wants a housekeeper and a cook, is that it?”
Cody shrugged. “That’s all I heard, Nick. But she’s on her way.”
“From where?”
Cody’s brow wrinkled. “Um… Georgia? No, I think it was Carolina. North Carolina.” He shrugged again. “Someplace back east.”
Train travel would take several days, wouldn’t it? And then at least a couple more days by stage from Topeka, depending on when the stages were running. She could arrive in Winfield today or next week. Had his father sent her enough traveling money to make the journey in comfort? Knowing his father, he would have sent the woman only the barest minimum to make the trek west into Oklahoma Territory. Despite himself, Nick felt curious. “How old is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Any woman who promotes herself in one of the bridal advertisements and agrees to marry a man she’s never met has got to be desperate,” he commented.
“You got that right.” Cody shook his head, peering at a portion of the herd of Covington cattle slowly grazing in front of them. “Can you imagine? Not knowing what you’re getting yourself into?”
While trying to pretend that he didn’t care what his father did and that he had no intention of getting involved in his father’s private life, he was a little concerned. The family had money, although his father was a pinch penny, hence the need to argue with him for lumber, which Nick had insisted on to repair the barn. It had only taken three arguments before Cleo had grudgingly agreed to purchase the lumber from the local mill. He couldn’t help but wonder. What if the woman who answered the ad for the bride was only after money, especially if his father had bragged about how large their home was, or their ranch, or how many cattle they ran, which Nick wouldn’t put past him.
In addition to his shock and dismay over the news, was the fact that another woman would be living at the ranch as his father’s wife. The thought disturbed him. No one could ever take the place of his mother, and the thought that his father had done such a thing without at least mentioning it to Nick annoyed him.
“The woman might very well be a widow, an older woman close to your Pa’s age.”
“Maybe.”
The thought of another woman running the house left him feeling resentful and depressed. He gazed out over the landscape at the low-lying, gently rolling hills. The wide culverts and slopes covered with a carpet of yellow flowers, their dainty heads dipping with the ever-present breeze that ruffled long and verdant green knee-high grasses this early spring. Along the base of the culvert to his right, he spied a swath of bush clover reaching about three feet high that had just started to display a wealth of red-purple flowers.
Further along stood a stand of cedar elms and maple trees. In those woods, he would find button brush shrubs festooned with clusters of white flowers, interspersed with tangles of ninebark shrubbery and their distinctive maroon leaves. Dotted along the hills, he spied the occasional Mexican buckeye shrub that could send its stalks as high as thirty feet into the air, but were now only getting started. Come full summer, it would produce pink flowers whose fragrance floated through the air, usually prompting him to smile. In the far distance, maybe a half-mile away, stood the massive Bur oak tree, which he figured must be at least sixty feet tall, beckoning memories.
That tree had often served as a refuge of sorts for him as he grew up. Now it was the spot where his mother was buried, as she too had loved to sit under its shade as they shared a picnic lunch on occasion, watching him wade in the small stream that meandered its way through the prairie grasses on hot summer afternoons.
For a moment, Nick felt the sensation of pity for the surprise waiting for this bride, having no idea what kind of man she would be marrying. His father was a man who never smiled, didn’t appreciate what anyone did for him, couldn’t bear the sight of his own son in his presence without making hateful, mean-spirited comments. He could only hope that the woman was thick-skinned and that her desperation for perhaps food on her plate and a roof over her head would enable her to put up with such a bad tempered man.
His father had never struck his mother, but that hadn’t made life easier. His father seemed to be incapable of showing any gentle emotion, compassion or consideration for anyone else unless it suited his own purposes. Over the years, that attitude had not been easy to bear. For much of his youth, Nick thought his father’s behavior was normal until he made friends at school and started spending more time at Cody’s house as they grew up. He saw the relationship between Cody’s parents and realized that it was a far cry from what his parent’s marriage was.
Once he realized how different his own parent’s home was from those of his friends, he had often wondered, in his younger years, why his mother stayed married to his father. Then again, what was a woman supposed to do? Property that a woman brought into a marriage was typically handed over to the husband, although there were some instances where women were able to protect at least some of their wealth or their homes from husbands, but such cases were few.
His mother, Lucinda Atkinson, was an only child who came from an old Virginia family that had accrued wealth in the shipping industry, and after the death of her parents, the bulk of it had passed to her control, which was even more incredible considering the times. Still, his mother had had good lawyers, she told him once, and had told him that someday, the ranch and everything on it would belong to him. Of course, there would be stipulations, as there always were, but he had never seen her will or discussed it with his father.
“Sorry to have to be the one to tell you, Nick,” Cody said abruptly. “If I had known you weren’t aware of it, believe me, I would’ve kept my mouth shut.”
Nick turned to his friend. “No, Cody, I’m glad you told me.” He shook his head. “You know, I never know what he’s doing or why. I don’t know what he’s thinking, suddenly wanting to get married, but I have a feeling it’s not anything good. Keep your ears open in town, won’t you?”
Cody glanced away and then back to Nick. “You mean you want me to pass along gossip?”
“Call it what you will, but it seems that’s the only way I ever find out anything going on around here, doesn’t it?” He peered into the distance, at the cattle meandering slowly through the knee-high grass, the rolling hills beyond, the blue sky above. “You know, last week after church, I think the Reverend Sanders might have tried to tell me something about all this, but it could’ve been something else entirely.”
“I’m sorry, Nick. I hate to speak ill of anyone, but your old man; he’s—”
“He’s cantankerous,” Nick finished for him. “You don’t have to tell me. I just don’t know what made him that way. When I was younger, he didn’t seem to be so bad, but when I think back on it, I can’t think of an incident that might’ve changed him so much.”
His horse shifted beneath him, and he shrugged. The sun felt warm on his shoulders, the breeze still cool. He shrugged. Sometimes he pitied his father. He seemed so angry all the time, not only at people around him, but with life in general. Nick had seen him more than once standing outside at night, shaking his fist at the sky. His father never smiled, and come to think of it, he couldn’t remember the last time he had heard so much as a chortle of laughter from the old man. Maybe some people were just made that way, but it only made him wonder still more what his mother had seen in Cleo Covington and why she had ever agreed to marry him in the first place.
At any rate, a woman was coming to town and, as usual, Nick had known nothing about it. While he had briefly pitied the woman, sight unseen, he wondered. If she had been the least attracted to his father’s words, perhaps she was as lacking in kindness as his father. Two birds of a feather. The thought depressed him. As if things weren’t tough enough as it was.
“You riding up to Topeka this week?”
He turned to Cody and nodded. “Got about thirty head of cattle that’s on the way up there and need to get the bill of sale for those. Besides, I also need to take a look at those horses that Williamson is selling.”
“Can you do me a favor? Since you’re going up there, anyway?”
“Sure. What is it?”
Cody reached inside his vest and extracted two envelopes from his shirt pocket, and handed them to Nick. “Could you mail these for me in Topeka?”
Nick reached for the letters and nodded. “Sure, but why don’t you just mail them from town?”
Cody stared out into the distance and then frowned before replying. “I caught the postmaster’s daughter reading private mail—”
“What?” Nick interrupted. “You saw Rebecca Morrison reading people’s mail?”
Cody nodded. “More than once.” He glanced at the envelopes Nick held. “Those are important, and they need to get to St. Louis lickety-split. Can’t take the chance of Rebecca digging into my business and delaying them.”
Nick was surprised by the news. “You tell Reginald?”
Cody shook his head. “Not sure how to. He dotes on his daughter, you know that. Always has. She can do no wrong.”
Nick had nothing to say to that because it was true. Still, it was disturbing. He sighed as he tucked the letters into his shirt pocket. “I’ll make sure they get mailed properly.”
“Thanks.” Cody gathered the reins in his hand. “Well, I’d best be on my way. I just came out to tell you that I’ll be bringing out the lumber in the next day or two.”
“Thanks.”
As his friend turned his horse around, the animal snorting with impatience, Nick watched his friend trot off, grateful that the people in town didn’t hold his father’s bad behavior and attitude against him. The cowhands on the ranch got along well with him and respected his experience and knowledge of not only their massive herd of cattle, but the horses that were bred on the ranch as well, most of them sold to the Army for a tidy sum. As much as Cleo Covington was given a wide berth, Nick was well-liked in town, or at least he thought so.
As his friend rode away, Nick turned his attention back to the cattle and beyond them, past the rolling hills. He could barely see the main ranch house in the far distance. Should he say something to his father about the newly discovered situation, or should he stay out of it? After all, he was living in his own small place on the property and didn’t rub shoulders with his father any more than he had to.
Then again, this was his ranch too, wasn’t it? Whatever had prompted his father to write off for a bride, it seemed to him that it was his business, whether his father thought so or not. He caught the attention of one of the other cowhands, gestured that he was heading back to the ranch and then, with a final wave, nudged his horse into a trot as he headed for the ranch. Whether his father liked it or not, he had some questions that demanded answers.
“Her Heart’s Unseen Beauty” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!
Scarred by a tragic fire that claimed her parents’ lives, Annie Huntley seeks a sanctuary where love embraces inner beauty. Desperate to escape the judgmental eyes of her community, she becomes a mail-order bride, yearning for a fresh start. Upon her arrival in the Oklahoma Territory, though, her hopes are crushed when a wealthy rancher humiliates her with a heartless rejection. As Annie struggles to make sense of the deceitful facade, a disturbing truth slowly unravels.
Will she find solace in a place tainted by betrayal, where whispers of longing echo in the wind?
Nick Covington finds himself captivated by Annie’s resilient spirit from the moment they first cross paths. Witnessing the depths of her pain and the strength she exudes, he becomes her unwavering source of encouragement. Despite the disapproval of his own father, Nick sees beyond Annie’s scars, recognizing the beauty that radiates from within her. As their bond deepens, he finds himself torn between his love for Annie and the loyalty he feels towards his family.
Will Nick have the courage to defy his father’s expectations and risk everything to declare his love for Annie?
As Annie yearns for acceptance and Nick’s affection grows stronger, they find themselves confronting the haunting shadows of their past. Their fate hangs precariously in the balance, teetering between heartache and the promise of a future built on love. Will their love prove resilient enough to weather the formidable challenges that stand in their way?
“Her Heart’s Unseen Beauty” is a historical western romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.
Hello there, dear readers! I hope you enjoyed the preview. Let me know what you think on your comments below. I’ll be waiting! Thank you 🙂