Authors: Vickie Mcdonough
Tags: #Western, #Love Stories, #Christian Fiction, #Texas, #secrecy, #Historical, #Christian, #Romance, #Mail Order Brides, #Fiction, #Redemption, #Historical Fiction, #Religious, #Man-Woman Relationships, #General
Finally a Bride
O
THER
B
OOKS BY
V
ICKIE
M
C
D
ONOUGH:
T
EXAS
B
OARDINGHOUSE
B
RIDES
The Anonymous Bride
Second Chance Bride
© 2011 by Vickie McDonough
Print ISBN 978-1-60260-649-4
eBook Editions:
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-60742-248-8
Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-60742-249-5
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the publisher.
All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
For more information about Vickie McDonough, please access the author’s website at the following Internet address:
www.vickiemcdonough.com
Cover design: Faceout Studio,
www.faceoutstudio.com
Cover photography: Steve Gardner, Pixelworks Studios
Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, OH 44683,
www.barbourbooks.com
.
Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses
.
Printed in the United States of America.
Table of Contents
To preach deliverance to the captives,
and recovering of sight to the blind,
to set at liberty them that are bruised
.
L
UKE
4:18
Chapter 1
Lookout, Texas
August 1896
J
acqueline Davis had done a lot of daring things in her life, but this deed had to be the most foolhardy. She held up her skirt with one hand, holding her free arm out for balance, and slid her foot across the roof’s wooden shakes. The mayor’s chimney was only a dozen more steps away. She peered down at the ground far below, then yanked her gaze upward when a wave of dizziness made her sway. She sucked in a steadying breath. If she fell the two stories to the packed dirt below,
she’d
become tomorrow’s news instead of the story she intended to write about the mayor’s latest scheme.
She just had to find out what he had up his sleeve. Weeks had passed since she’d landed an exciting story for Lookout’s newspaper. She had to get the scoop—whatever the cost. Maybe then she’d have enough clippings in her portfolio to land a job in Dallas as a reporter and finally leave Lookout.
The sweat trickling down her back had nothing to do with the bright April sun warming her shoulders. A moderate breeze whooshed past, lifting her skirts and almost throwing her off balance. Her petticoat flapped like a white flag, but she was far from surrendering. She swatted down her skirts and glanced around the streets, thankful no one was out yet. “Oh, why didn’t I don my trousers before trying this stunt?”
“Because you reacted without thinking again, that’s why.” She scolded herself just like her mother had done on too many occasions to count. Would she never learn? Sighing, she carefully bent down, reached between her legs, pulled the hem of her skirt through, and tucked it in her waistband. Holding her arms out for balance, she righted herself again.
The hour was still early, but with the mayor’s house resting right on the busy corner of Bluebonnet Lane and Apple Street, she couldn’t exactly stand outside his parlor window, listening to the meeting he was holding inside. If the two well-dressed strangers hadn’t ridden right past the boardinghouse while she’d been sweeping the porch, she’d have never known of their arrival.
Her knock on the mayor’s door for permission to listen in and to take notes had resulted in a scowl and the door being slammed in her face. Scuttlebutt was running rampant around town that Mayor Burke had some great plan to bring new businesses to Lookout. He was up to something, and she meant to be the first to find out what it was.
She slid her left foot forward. Listening through the chimney opening was her only alternative. She just hoped the men’s voices would carry up that far. Sliding her right foot forward, she held her breath. Her task must be completed quickly before anyone saw her.
“Jacqueline Hamilton Davis, you come down from that roof right this minute—or I’m calling off our wedding.”
Jack jumped at Billy Morgan’s roar. She twisted sideways, swung her arms in the air, wobbled, and regained her balance on the peak of the house. Heart galloping, she glared down at the blond man standing in the street beside the mayor’s house and swiped her hand in the air. “Go away!” she hollered in a loud whisper. If she’d told him once, she’d told him a dozen times she had no intention of marrying him.
Her foot slid toward the chimney. She had to get there right now or Billy’s ruckus would surely draw a crowd, and she’d have to climb down without her story.
A high-pitched scream rent the air. “Don’t fall, Sissy!”
Jack lurched the final step to the chimney and hugged the bricks. She peered down at her five-year-old sister and swatted her hand, indicating Abby needed to leave, but the stubborn girl just hiked her chin in the air. Abby was so dramatic. She’d even practiced her screams until she could blast the shrillest and loudest screeches of all her friends. Parents no longer came running when the young girls practiced their hollering. Jack shook her head. It would be a shame if any of them ever truly needed help one day and Abby screamed, because not a soul in Lookout would come to her aid.
She peered down to see if Billy was still there, and sure enough, the rascal stood in the middle of the dirt road with his hat pushed back off his forehead and his hands on his hips.
Uh-oh
. Across the street, her ma carefully made her way down the front porch steps of the boardinghouse—the bulge of her pregnant belly obvious even from this distance. She shaded her eyes with her hand as she looked around, probably checking on Abby.
Jack ducked down behind the chimney. With her ma so close to her time of birthing another baby, she didn’t want to cause her distress—and finding her twenty-year-old daughter on a rooftop would certainly set Ma’s pulse pounding.
Movement on Main Street drew Jack’s attention. She peered over the bank’s roof to the boardwalk on the far side of the street. Oh, horse feathers! Now her pa was heading out of the marshal’s office and hurrying toward her mother. He probably thought she’d drop that baby right there in the street. Their last child, two-and-a-half-year-old Emma, had been born in a wagon on the way back from Denison, almost a month early.
She glanced down at Billy, who stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head. Her ma was looking down Main Street now. With precious few moments before the jig was up, Jack stood on her tiptoes, concentrating on her task. She listened hard, trying to decipher the muted words drifting up the chimney. The strong scent of soot stung her nose, but all she could hear was the faint rumble of men’s voices.
She glanced back at the far edge of the roof, trying to decide whether to return to the tree and shinny back down or wait until her mother and stepfather went back inside. Would Billy give her away?
Jack heaved a frustrated sigh. Even if he didn’t, Abby would surely tattle. She peeked at her sister. Abby ran toward their mother, her finger pointing up at the mayor’s roof. Oh fiddlesticks.
Why did they have to come outside before she concluded her sleuthing? And now, thanks to Billy’s caterwauling, a crowd was gathering on Bluebonnet Lane.
She quickly studied the town from her vantage point. This was the perfect spot to view any events taking place in Lookout and garner the news, but it was also dangerous. How could she manage to take notes and still keep her balance? Perhaps she could talk Jenny into building a platform with a fence around it atop her newspaper office so they could view the city whenever community events were happening.
“Jacqueline! Oh, my heavens. What are you doing up there?” Her ma splayed her hand across her chest. Abby stood beside her, looking proud that she’d gotten her big sister in trouble.
Jack held tight to the edge of the chimney and laid her forehead against the bricks. She was as caught as a robber in a bank vault on Monday morning. She turned to head back, but her skirt snagged on the chimney bricks and pulled loose from her waistband, causing her to lose her footing. Her boot slipped, shooting her leg forward and raining wooden shakes on the people below. They squealed and scattered then gawked up at her once they were a safe distance away. Jack tightened her lips to keep from giggling. She shouldn’t, she knew, but she’d never seen Bertha Boyd move so fast. That woman had to be as wide as a buckboard.