Dorothy Clark (22 page)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“W
ell, I delivered your gown and my job is done. I’m going down and join Mother and Father in the garden.” Ellen gave her a hug and walked to the bedroom door, then turned and smiled. “Your gown is beautiful, Sadie.”

“Thank you, Ellen.” She brushed her hand over the wide band of smocking that emphasized her narrow waist and glanced down at the double rows of scalloped ruffles at the hem of the long, full skirt. “Your mother is a wonderful seamstress.”

“And a
fast
one. It’s been less than a month since you told us the news.” Willa laughed and gave her a hug. “I still can’t even
believe
you are marrying Cole, and Mrs. Hall has made your gown.”

“
And
her headband. Hold your head up and stay still, Sadie, or I’ll stick this pin right in your scalp!”

“Threats! And on my wedding day.” She laughed and held her head perfectly still as Callie tugged the wide white ribbon adorned with silk roses a little tighter around the coil of hair at her crown and secured it with hairpins.

“There!” Callie gave her hair a pat and stepped around in front of her. “Oh my...” She swallowed and laughed and wiped at her eyes. “You are so
beautiful,
Sadie.”

“And that from a woman who does not use the word frivolously.” Willa drew a breath, wiped her own eyes and smiled. “Are you nervous, Sadie?”

“Yes.” She smiled and looked out the window toward the wooded path, placed her fingertips below the narrow band of white lace at her throat and felt the strong, steady beat of her heart. There was no panicked, wildly skipping pulse for her today. “But I’m not afraid.”

Willa swallowed hard, stepped close and gave her a fierce hug. “I’ll go tell Daniel and Matthew you’re ready.”

“And I’ll go down and join Ezra.” Callie gave her a hug, stepped back and smiled. “It’s natural to be nervous, Sadie. I was trembling like a leaf in a windstorm when I married Ezra, and I love him with my whole heart. I pray you and Cole will be as happy together as we are.” She blinked, wiped her eyes and followed Willa from the room.

She was alone.

Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.

The Scripture settled in her heart as it had that other time when she had been so upset and confused by her love for Cole. “Thank You, Lord, for Your truth.”

She blinked her vision clear and walked from her bedroom. When she returned, it would be as Cole’s bride. They would make their home here, where they could care for Poppa and Nanna. Cole had already started to build a new shop for making the rolling chairs. What a wonderful, generous and loving man would share her life.

She blinked her eyes again, took a deep breath to steady her emotions and started down the stairs.

“Hey, Quick Stuff. I hear you’re getting married.” Daniel looked up and gave her a mock scowl. “Looks like I’ve lost you, too.” The scowl turned to a warm smile. “And right when you turned so beautiful.”

She laughed, took his offered arm and walked with him to the dining room door, went on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “You’ll always have a special place in my heart, Daniel.” She gave him a teasing grin. “And there’s still Ellen.”

Something raw and pained flashed in his eyes. She caught her breath. “Daniel—”

He shook his head, grinned and pulled open the door. “Let’s get you married, Quick Stuff. I’ve things to do.”

He escorted her across the porch, down the steps and onto the garden path. She smiled at Ellen and her parents, Callie and Ezra and Sophia Sheffield, Willa and Mr. and Mrs. Dibble all gathered in a group around her grandparents.

She leaned down and kissed her poppa.

“He’s a...good man...Sa...die.”

“He’s a
wonderful
man, Poppa. I’m so glad you didn’t listen to me.” She smiled at his soft chuckle then turned and kissed her nanna’s cheek. Her grandmother’s small hands grasped hers and tugged her close.

“I told you he was in love with you, sweeting.”

The joyful whisper brought tears to her eyes. “And you were right, Nanna. You are a very wise woman.” She smiled and blinked away the tears.
Thank You, Lord, that Nanna is having a good day.

She took a breath and straightened, and Cole was there, holding his hand out to her.

“Be happy, Quick Stuff.” Daniel kissed her cheek and stepped back.

She put her hand in Cole’s, felt the rush of love and safety his touch always brought her and smiled.

His grip tightened; his eyes warmed. Her heart raced. She would see that special only-for-her look in his eyes for the rest of their lives.

A male throat cleared. “If you are ready, Cole?”

“Now and always. I love you, Sadie Spencer.” He whispered the words into her ear, tucked her hand in his arm and together they turned to face Matthew Calvert, who was waiting to join their hearts and lives forever.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from
Keeping Faith
by Hannah Alexander.

Dear Reader,

I’m so pleased you decided to join me on this third visit to Pinewood Village. I’ve become so at home in Pinewood, I feel as if I should go to Cargrave’s and ask Mr. Hubble for my mail. I hope you feel the same.

This third book in the Pinewood Weddings series about lifelong friends began as Sadie’s story—as an exploration of her trauma from Payne Aylward’s heinous attack. But I quickly realized that Cole also suffered deeply from his brother’s actions. I found my emotions deeply engaged while writing about these two young people brought together by the traumatic situation thrust upon them by another—Sadie, facing down her fears out of love for her grandparents, and Cole, standing strong in his effort to atone as best he was able for his brother’s cruel deed, became true heroes to me. The Bible says, “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment.” It was my delight to use this truth to deliver both Sadie and Cole from their fears so they were free to love one another.

I am reluctant to leave Pinewood without telling Ellen’s story, but she has thus far resisted my efforts to coax her home. Her hurts go deep and she prefers to focus on the social whirl she enjoys in Buffalo.

I do enjoy hearing from my readers. If you would care to share your thoughts about Sadie and Cole’s story, or about Pinewood village and its residents with me, I may be contacted at
[email protected]
or
www.dorothyjclark.com
.

Until I can convince Ellen to come home to Pinewood,

Dorothy J Clark

Questions for Discussion

1. Sadie Spencer is forced to return to Pinewood. What compels her to return?
   
2. Sadie has suffered a terrible trauma in Payne Aylward’s attack on her. Do you find her resulting fears believable? Have you or anyone you know suffered such fears from a traumatic experience?
   
3. Cole Aylward suffers his own fears. What are they? Do you find them believable? Why or why not?
   
4. What are Cole’s motivations for helping Manning Townsend? Do you find them admirable?
   
5. When they first meet, Sadie cannot bear the sight of Cole. Do you think her attitude is realistic? How would you have felt and acted in Sadie’s circumstances?
   
6. Cole is drawn to Sadie immediately, but he has reservations about her. How does Sadie represent a threat to Cole?
   
7. Sadie’s experience leaves her with several symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. What are they?
   
8. Do you know any alcoholics? Do they say or do things when they are drinking they would not do or say when they are sober?
   
9. Do you know any children of alcoholics? Are they like Payne or Cole? Do they follow in their parents’ footsteps, or do they go the other way?
   
10. Cole was willing to give up all he had worked to achieve in Pinewood. Why? What were his achievements?
    
11. The story is set in a rural village in 1841. Would Sadie’s circumstances be improved or worsened if the story took place in the present? Give the reasons for your opinion.
    
12. Sadie’s love for Cole proves stronger than her fear. What event in the story proves this? How does it convince Cole of her love?
    
13. What drove Cole to become the man he is?
    
14. How did Cole’s past dictate his treatment of Mrs. Townsend?
    
15. Have you or someone you know ever suffered a traumatic event that affected your faith? Was the effect positive or negative? What makes the difference in the outcome?
    

We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Historical title.

You find illumination in days gone by.
Love Inspired Historical
stories lift the spirit as heroines tackle the challenges of life in another era with hope, faith and a focus on family.

Enjoy four new stories from Love Inspired Historical every month!

Visit
Harlequin.com
to find your next great read.

We like you—why not like us on Facebook:
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

Follow us on Twitter:
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

Read our blog for all the latest news on our authors and books:
HarlequinBlog.com

Subscribe to our newsletter for special offers, new releases, and more!

Harlequin.com/newsletters

Chapter One

D
r. Victoria Fenway sat beside her young assistant in the opening of her host’s covered wagon, grinding herbs with mortar and pestle as she studied the tree-shrouded wilderness for a shadow, a shape or movement that might tell her their camp was being watched by a monster.

Broderick Thames, her husband’s murderer, was indeed a monster, and he was here in the south of Missouri. She had no doubt of that. For the past few days, after discovering the first unique track of the killer’s fire-red horse, she’d lived on the razor edge of fear. He’d come this way for a reason, but why?

A screech of youthful male terror reached her from a distance. She jerked, startled, spilling powdered chamomile everywhere.

Her fourteen-year-old helper, Heidi Ladue, dropped her empty teabags and caught Victoria by the arm. “Dr. Fenway, that sounds like Claude. Did you hear a splash?”

Victoria turned and tried to peer through the trees toward the roar of the flooded creek that had halted their journey today. “In that torrent? How could anyone hear a single splash?”

Another cry reached them from the direction of the creek. “The rope,” came a familiar voice. “Help me, please! Get the rope.”

Heidi scrambled from her perch on the wagon’s edge, long strands of her flax-pale hair dangling over her shoulders and the calico ruffles of her sleeves. “That
is
Claude. He’s in trouble!”

Victoria shoved her work aside and leaped from beneath the canvas of the Ladue wagon. “We don’t have the ropes. Your mother tied the horses with them.” They’d been unable to form a corral with the wagons on this narrow strip of land between cliffs and overflowing creek.

She ran toward the trees in an effort to catch sight of Claude but all she could see was muddy, churning water between giant trunks of oak and broadleaf evergreens. Heidi’s younger brother was not a clumsy boy. Could Thames be nearby? Could that wicked man have pushed him?

Heidi clutched Victoria’s arm and tugged. “He was with the Johnston boys earlier. Please come, Dr. Fenway. They had a rope. They were trying to make a pulley out of it to get the wagon across the water.”

Victoria allowed herself to be pulled forward. “They told you this?”

“No, ma’am, I could see it with my own eyes.” Heidi released her grip and turned toward the creek. “I heard them talking. I told the captain and he got on ’em, but they didn’t listen. They’ve been up to something, and I don’t see Claude, but right there’s the Johnston boys.”

She pointed toward Claude’s constant companions, blond-haired Buster and Gray Johnston. They stood across a narrow clearing beside a huge oak tree that shaded a section of the raging water. They were struggling mightily to straighten a tangled mess of rope that connected their wagon to the tree.

Despite stern reprimands, the boys appeared determined to float their wagon to the other bank before the floodwaters died down, like children taking a dare to prove they were men. They were proving just the opposite with their careless disregard for safety.

“Buster?” Victoria called out, clutching her funereal-black skirts and hurrying through treacherous mud toward the boys, Heidi at her side. “Didn’t you two hear your friend? He’s in trouble.”

“I know, but this here’s what he needs.” Buster held up an end of the rope in his hand. “It’s too knotted.”

Claude cried out again and Heidi turned to run toward the sound of her brother’s voice. “It’s the creek, Doctor. I know he fell into the creek!”

Buster tugged with more force on the rope, his face dripping with sweat. “I’m tryin’, ma’am, doin’ all I can, but he’s got to have this to get out!”

“Heidi, be careful!” Victoria turned back to the Johnston brothers. “Boys, please hurry. What is Claude doing in the water?”

“Hangin’ on for life right now,” Gray said.

Victoria could imagine all sorts of awful endings to this and it made her dizzy. “To what?”

“Old stump.”

“That isn’t good enough. We need your help right now.” Victoria wanted to stamp her foot. Did these young men have difficulty grasping the plain truth? She still couldn’t see the thirteen-year-old boy. “Find something else, a plank of wood, a branch. Something!”

“Gotta get this thing unwound to reach him.” Buster’s fingers slid on the muddy knots. “He’s way out there.”

Victoria wanted to thump their heads together as she watched the detritus being shoved along at a mighty pace down the widened creek. Couldn’t they get a little more excited about the threat to their friend’s life? “No stump’s going to protect him from being knocked to pieces if he’s in that creek. You need to try something besides the rope and do it quickly.”

As if he hadn’t heard her, Buster gave the snarl another tug, which made it cling more tightly to the tree.

Victoria nearly growled aloud. “Buster, now!” She could hear only Claude’s cries for help over the flood-stage roar of Flat Creek—which was anything but flat at the moment. It sounded as if an invisible giant rampaged through this southern Missouri valley, tearing trees from their roots to thrust them out of the racing, muddy water. And now Heidi, too, ran dangerously close to the edge of the steep bank.

Victoria turned, slid and nearly fell in the thick mud. “Heidi Ladue, you get away from the water! Help me find something long enough to reach him.”

Heidi came rushing back, her dainty, even features tight with fear, pale hair flying out behind her in the breeze. “He’s too far out, Doctor. We can’t reach him.” She grabbed Victoria’s arm. “I’m scared,” she said, her voice catching.

“Round up help from the camp. Now, my dear.” Victoria gave her a quick hug and urged her up the hill, but as she looked over the girl’s shoulder she finally caught sight of Claude. He was being flung back and forth in the water, choking and spitting, his head barely above the surface as he grasped the stump. “Get the adults quickly!”

As Heidi ran up the muddy track, Victoria raced along the side of the creek. “Hold on, Claude, we’ll get you out!” She searched for a thick limb or a length of vine she might use to reach the boy, but the limb she picked up immediately broke. The vine fell apart. Everything was too soaked to hold up under Claude’s weight.

She glanced over her shoulder to see if the Johnston boys were having any luck with the rope, but Buster and Gray were now in some argument she couldn’t make out.

“Boys, grow up and get to work!” she called, but they didn’t seem to hear her. With the sound of the water, she could barely hear herself.

She closed her eyes and screamed at the top of her lungs, “Gentlemen! Help!” Those young men should never have been allowed to leave home without their father. Instead of eighteen and sixteen, they behaved like eight and six. Why had Joseph chosen them to help build his town in Kansas?

She turned and ran toward Claude again. “We need more men on this trip,” she muttered to herself. How would this group cross the state border safely into Kansas Territory if the Johnston boys kept pulling stunts like this?

With a glance uphill, she searched for the one man who claimed to always be there for help and protection, though she couldn’t see proof that he practiced his assurances. “Captain Rickard?” she called at the top of her voice. “Trouble! Help us, please.”

But Joseph was nowhere in sight. According to Heidi, he was helping collect wood for the fire, a job Claude and his friends were supposed to be doing. Instead of helping, Claude had hovered near the creek with Gray Johnston, both of them in apparent awe of Buster Johnston’s glowing presence.

Victoria scowled at the thought, but she realized that, deep down, she’d been as hopeful as Buster that there would be a way past the flooding so they could cross, though they each had widely divergent motivations. She knew Buster wanted a fresh start as far from home as he could get, and he was in a hurry to get there. He’d suffered deeply after knocking over a lantern where he worked and burning down the general store in their town. A man had died because of Buster’s clumsiness. Anyone his age would go in search of a new life after that. What she feared was that the clumsy bear cub would leave a path of destruction behind him.

She, on the other hand, wanted to scout ahead of the others and scour the fresh mud for familiar tracks. For the first couple of weeks she’d been able to put aside her thirst for revenge as she’d settled in with the friendly people of the wagon train, especially the Ladues. Last week, however, she’d seen evidence that the killer, Thames, had been through the town where the Johnston boys had joined them. She’d seen the unique hoofprint three times along the trail they now followed—a horseshoe that had an inch of length broken off on the right front hoof of Thames’s crimson-colored horse.

She owed Matthew so much; finding his killer was the least she could do to honor his memory. She knew Joseph had wanted her to come with them as their physician—though she felt herself to be a poor substitute for her late husband—but she had her own reasons for coming, and the murdering slaver was never far from her thoughts. He terrified her and he enraged her, and she couldn’t tell which emotion controlled her at any given time. What she knew, however, was that she could not rely on her emotions. They could betray her as ruthlessly as Joseph had done a decade ago.

But Joseph didn’t belong in the same league as Broderick Thames. A man who killed for the simple pleasure of beating his political opponent was a monster, indeed. What would he do if he knew this wagon train was filled with abolitionists set on building a slave-free community in Kansas Territory? He would find a way to destroy them all, and he had the connections to do it.

“Someone, please!” Heidi’s high-pitched voice echoed down to Victoria as she searched around the camp. “Dr. Fenway, look!” The girl’s voice spiraled upward in terror, echoing against the cliffs that halfway surrounded the wagon train on the eastern side of the flooded creek.

Victoria saw Heidi pointing and turned to find that Claude no longer held on to the stump. Only a lone hand stuck out of the water. It grasped upward, much farther downstream than expected. The stump floated away, roots pointing toward the sky as if they were hands grasping for a firm foundation. The water was carrying Claude.

Before she could catch up with his progress, he shoved away from the tumbling log and lunged toward the bank, at least fifty yards from where the Johnston boys continued to wrangle with their rope.

She raced toward him, stumbling over vines that had been washed ashore. The Ladue family had already lost their father. What a nightmare if Luella and Heidi were to lose Claude, as well.

Even as she ran, however, she heard solid footsteps coming up behind her. She could imagine she felt the shaking of the ground when she heard the rush of heavy breathing. She looked to find one of the older men, Mr. Reich, racing by her, slipping and catching himself on the wet grass and mud, paunch hanging past his belt. The wagon train’s scout, long-legged, raw-boned McDonald, ran barely a stride’s length behind Reich. Victoria tripped over another vine and finally lost her balance for good to land in a patch of muddy grass. Others rushed to her to help her up, but she urged them to follow Reich and McDonald.

There was a sudden throng of rescuers, including Luella Ladue with her daughter. Luella surpassed all but the two first men, her light brown hair flying. She jumped into the creek with her grip on a thick vine connected to a gnarled oak tree.

Victoria sat where she was for a few seconds, glad for the rescuers but still anxious. No one should be in the water. True, it wasn’t stagnant, but who knew how many stagnant pools and contaminated ponds now mingled with the running water? She’d seen too many cholera victims in her ten years of medical practice.

Mrs. Ladue locked her free arm around her son’s middle. Luella was a strong woman, as she’d had to be since her husband’s death last year, but Victoria feared she might not be strong enough to fight the water and the tossing logs and trees...even worse, the contamination that could lurk in the water.

“Luella, you’ve both got to get out of there now!” Victoria pulled herself to her feet. Despite her warning, others followed Luella’s lead and jumped in to help push Claude up. “Please, stay out of the water. It could be poison!” And yet, she saw no other way for them to haul the weakened boy from the fierce rush of the creek.

Mr. Reich and Mr. McDonald had flopped onto their bellies at the edge of mud, ready with arms outstretched to pull the others to shore. Typically the first person to help out when needed, Mr. Reich had a heft about him that suggested more padding than muscle, but he was as strong as a warhorse. Mr. McDonald, wiry and tall, matched his friend’s strength.

The men and women of their group stood along the bank or knelt over the side to help, and several made use of the same vine Luella had used to lower herself into the dirty creek water. It appeared to the onlookers, of course, that Claude was safe for now as his mother grasped him and their rescuers formed a chain to aid his rise from the flood.

Knowing Luella, Victoria knew Claude was in for the scolding of his life, after his mother had smothered him with kisses.

“Victoria?”

She heard the voice and turned to see the man who had, to her shame, held her heart captive for ten years. He came running through the camp with a load of wood in his arms, his strength making the load look insignificant. Captain Joseph Rickard was a title she’d never become accustomed to these past four weeks of tedious travel through unmarked hills and over rocky terrain. After the first few days of attempting to use the formal address, she’d felt so awkward she’d reverted to calling him Joseph, despite a few raised eyebrows. After all, had he not abandoned her in St. Louis with Matthew, they would be married. It was his decision, his rejection, that had helped her keep her distance from him...most of the time.

By now everyone who traveled with them knew that she and Joseph had been friends long ago. Few knew about the depth of that friendship. She was, after all, still in mourning, and women of society didn’t feel it seemly for a widow of seven months to spend her available hours with an unmarried man—not that she’d ever been particularly concerned about the women of society. A female physician would always be sneered at by those women, so why waste her time?