Authors: Kim Vogel Sawyer
Tags: #Christian Books & Bibles, #Literature & Fiction, #Historical, #Romance, #United States, #Religion & Spirituality, #Fiction, #Religious & Inspirational Fiction, #Christian Fiction, #ebook, #book
A Hopeful Heart (36 page)
Abel’s face hardened, and his fingers clamped down on her hands. “What’d they do to you?”
She rushed to assure him. “They didn’t hurt me, but they . . . they didn’t love me. They made me feel unwanted.” She discovered a sense of freedom in stating the words aloud. Licking her lips, she added, “It wasn’t my idea to come to Barnett—they sent me against my will, and I’ve resented them for it.”
A sudden thankfulness rushed over her. Had her aunt and uncle not sent her, she wouldn’t have met Aunt Hattie or Isabella or Sallie or any of the others, and she wouldn’t have fallen head-over-heels in love with Abel Samms. She’d thought of Kansas as merely her second-best chance, but God had given her so much more than she’d ever hoped.
To Abel, she said, “But I decided no more resentment. I’m going to follow your example and forgive those who’ve hurt me.”
Abel shook his head, his eyes sparkling. “I forgave Gage an’ Vince ’cause you reminded me that’s what God wants us to do. So you set the example first.”
Recalling the day she and Abel had ridden across the pasture together, another memory surfaced. “I think I also told you that since you’d saved me, you were responsible for me.” Heat flooded her cheeks at her bold statement, but she continued peering directly into Abel’s face.
His face split with a grin. “Darlin’, it would give me great pleasure to be responsible for you for the rest of my life. Should we go tell Aunt Hattie?”
Tressa hunched her shoulders, another giggle trickling out. “I think it might be best to
ask
Aunt Hattie.”
He laughed and stood, drawing her to his side. He brushed a kiss across her temple. Her heart fluttered like the wings of a dove, threatening to carry her feet from the floor. If a kiss on her temple produced such a reaction, what might a kiss on her lips do? She tipped her head, unconsciously lifting her face toward his.
“C’mon, Miss Tressa. Let’s go see if Aunt Hattie’ll talk Paralee an’ Mabelle into makin’ their double weddin’ a triple one!”
Tears pricked behind Tressa’s eyes as Brother Connor opened a little black book and cast a bright smile across the congregation.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have gathered today to witness the union between this man and this woman. And this man and this woman.” His focus bounced from Paralee and Jerome to Mabelle and Glendon. “And this man and this woman.” His smile broadened as his focus shifted again to include Aunt Hattie and Mr. Hammond.
Abel’s hand over hers tightened, and his breath stirred her hair as he whispered, “Disappointed we ain’t up there, too?”
The minister’s voice faded into the background as Tressa pressed her shoulder against Abel’s and scooted closer to him. “A little. But I agree with Aunt Hattie.” She turned her hand palm up, linking fingers with him. “We’ll have our own special day after a time of courtship, which—” a soft giggle escaped her lips—“I’m enjoying immensely.”
Over the past few weeks, she and Abel had taken several long walks, hand-in-hand, through pastures filled with peacefully grazing cattle. On buggy rides, with Tressa holding the reins and Abel curving his good arm around her waist, they’d talked and laughed and planned their future. The days had been a time of growing heart-to-heart.
Twice he’d kissed her beneath a star-speckled sky while the light breeze swished her skirts and lifted strands of her hair to tickle his cheek. Those moments carried her to heights of joy she hadn’t known existed. She would have been willing to live in his barn’s loft, only to be with Abel, but Aunt Hattie had insisted Abel must at least have a house built before they could exchange vows.
Tressa smiled, remembering how the older woman had spluttered, “You can’t be takin’ Tressa to no barn even if it does have a sturdy roof. ’Sides that, a girl deserves to be wooed. You get some wooin’ in, let the townsfolk get a house built, an’
then
we’ll talk nuptials.”
Although at the time impatience to be joined in every way with Abel had nearly made her want to crawl out of her own skin, she was now happy they had waited. They would have their own wedding in the late fall, when Abel’s arm was no longer in the sling and the little three-room house the men were building on his land was completely finished. She’d requested a railed porch where she and Abel could sit in the evening and watch the stars creep out to decorate the vast, velvet prairie sky, and a solid door they could close to seal themselves away, just the two of them. Abel had heartily agreed.
“I now pronounce you, and you, and you”—Brother Connor’s happy announcement broke through Tressa’s musings. She sat up, holding her breath—“man and wife. Gentlemen, you may kiss your brides.”
The congregation rose to its feet, applauding wildly. Abel’s arm slipped around Tressa’s waist, holding her close. She rested her temple against his jaw, clapping with the others while tears ran freely down her cheeks. Yes, this was best—to stand within Abel’s strong embrace and see Aunt Hattie happily married to Brewster, to trust that God’s good plans for her would be fulfilled.
She tipped her face toward Abel’s. His lips brushed her forehead, and then he smiled down at her, his warm brown eyes gazing into hers with an adoration that flooded her with delight.
Oh, dear God, thank You for gifting me with this man.
Her aunt and uncle might have sent her to Kansas to find a second-best life, but guided by her heavenly Father’s gracious hand, she’d discovered fulfillment beyond her wildest hopes through the God-bestowed gift of Abel’s love.
In August of 2008, my parents, husband, and I went on an Alaskan cruise to celebrate my folks’ fiftieth anniversary. On the ship, we met a woman who, upon learning we were from Kansas, mentioned she’d attended a herdsman school in Kansas. She went on to explain she’d married a rancher, but he didn’t have time to teach her the skills she needed to help him on the ranch, so he sent her to a herdsman school for an education in ranching. A little bell rang in the back of my mind.
A couple of weeks after returning from the cruise, I had the opportunity to visit with a few other authors, including
Tracie Peterson
. I shared this woman’s experience and mentioned how I’d like to find a way to turn it into a story. Tracie said, “You know what could be fun? Do a mail-order bride type story with inept women from the East coming to a herdsman school to learn the skills they need to be good wives for western men.”
The bell clanged wildly, and Wyatt Herdsman School was born.
I didn’t catch the name of the woman on the ship, but I’d like to express my gratitude to her for planting the seed and to Tracie for splashing it with enough water to make it grow. Thank you muchly!
As always, I need to say thank-you to my family. It isn’t easy to live with an author, but they do it with grace.
Mom and Daddy, Don, Kristian, Kaitlyn, and Kamryn
. . . thanks for putting up with me and my characters.
Speaking of characters, to my grandsons,
Connor, Ethan, Rylin, Jacob, and Cole
. . . thanks for letting Gramma borrow your names for this story. (
Adrianna
, patience little princess—your turn’s comin’.)
Spending so much time in my office alone would be unbearable were it not for my critique group members who are only an email away.
Eileen, Connie, Margie, Ramona, Judy, Donna
. . . bless you for all you do to keep me sane.
People who commit to praying for someone else’s ministry must be earning extra crowns in Heaven.
Miralee, Cynthia, Kathy, Rose, Ernie, and others at First Southern
. . . there aren’t words to tell you how much you mean to me.
Writing a book is not a one-person occupation, and I am so grateful to my editor,
Charlene
, and the
entire staff at Bethany House
for partnering with me. What an incredible privilege to be a member of the Bethany House family.
Finally, and most important, endless appreciation and admiration to
God
, who opened this pathway to me, who lovingly guides me in directions I would never imagine for myself, and gifts me with more than my heart can conceive. May any praise or glory be reflected directly back to Him.
KIM VOGEL SAWYER is the author of fifteen novels, including several bestsellers. Her books have won the ACFW Book of the Year Award, the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence, and the Inspirational Readers Choice Award. Kim is active in her church, where she leads women’s fellowship and participates in both voice and bell choirs. In her spare time, she enjoys drama, quilting, and calligraphy. Kim and her husband, Don, reside in Kansas and have three daughters and six grandchildren. She invites you to visit her Web site at
www.kimvogelsawyer.com
for more information.
MORE HEARTWARMING HISTORICAL FICTION FROM
Kim Vogel Sawyer
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Torn between his Mennonite roots and his love for the city—and a girl in each place—Thomas' future seems uncertain. When his prayers are answered with silence, can he trust his heart to lead?
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Orphaned and separated from her siblings, eight-year-old Maelle vows she will reunite with them one day. Seventeen years later, time has washed away her hope…and memories. Will she ever see her brother and sister again?
My Heart Remembers
After losing her family to illness, Summer Steadman is hired by a Mennonite farmer to teach his young son. But widower Peter Ollenburger soon discovers that helping this outsider may have troublesome consequences.
Waiting for Summer’s Return