Blessed With a New Beginning: An Inspirational Historical Romance Book

by Lilah Rivers

  He wanted to have plenty of options on the table for Pauline to choose from. He wanted to give her the wedding of her dreams, lavish and expensive like she liked, and to build her a house and give her land and jewelry and anything else he could.

  It would have been perfect if his father had given him his blessing to marry her. If he had, the family would have paid for anything Pauline wanted. And anything he wanted.

  “Good luck, baby,” he heard whispered seductively in his ear. Pauline’s soft breath on his ear when she uttered the words made goosebumps rise on his arms. He glanced over at her and enjoyed the smile on her face, the narrowness of her eyes when she gazed at him.

  He grunted in a gruff voice. “Don’t need luck, sweet face. But thanks anyway.”

  Pauline was wide in hip and busty with a small waist that was cinched in tight and covered by a lacy corset. She put one hand on that narrow hip and pushed her body out to the side. He admired the curves of her body.

  She narrowed her brown eyes and shook the waves in her teased chocolate colored hair. It was precisely because she looked like that that prevented Pauline from gaining his father’s approval. He told his son he would never approve of a woman like Pauline, whose reputation for entertaining men of all creeds made her undesirable material.

  “Go on, then,” she said, flipping one hand in the air. “Call if you’re so sure.”

  Jarrett hesitated. He wasn’t sure the hand he held was good enough to beat what Anderson might have. He pushed the self-doubt away, not liking the way it felt. He could hear his pa in the back of his mind, chiding him for making such bad decisions all the time. He was weak – lily-livered – a coward.

  Elliott Raines had never called his son those things. But he didn’t have to. Jarrett felt them even when they weren’t said. They were the words he could see in his father’s eyes whenever the old man looked directly at him. He was a disappointment.

  All because he’d fallen in love with a woman who worked in the saloon. She was good to him, he insisted. She loved him and gave him a lot of attention. She praised him and made him feel good.

  “I call,” he said. Anderson laid his cards down.

  A sharp feeling of panic shot through Jarrett. He laid his cards down flat. The sharp breaths sucked in by the other players around the table could probably have been heard from outside the building.

  Jarrett had lost. Three thousand dollars.

  The number sent a chill through him. If he paid the man, he would have nothing left of the kitty and he would have to borrow from his father to pay it off. He didn’t want to go through that. The thought of asking his father for the money made him almost as sick as seeing the hand Anderson had just beaten him with.

  “I’d like to propose something to you,” he said, moving his eyes around the table to let the other players know he was including them in the conversation. “If you all agree to it, I would like to play another round, double or nothing, except not double in cash.”

  “What do you propose instead of cash?” Anderson asked.

  “Cattle. Thirty head. On top of the cash. If you win, I owe you all of it. If I win, you owe me nothing. What do you say? It’s a win-win for you, you must admit.”

  Jarrett knew the proposal would sound odd to the others. They weren’t stupid men. He was fairly certain they could tell he didn’t need to win anything from Anderson. But getting the debt off his back would be more profitable than trying to take from a man who already had significantly less. He would gain some respect while getting himself out of a jam with his father.

  “I don’t see why not,” one of the other men said. “But what if one of us wins? What do we get?”

  Jarrett didn’t want to think about having to pay one of the other men. “Just a one on one match between me and Anderson. That way the debt can be solved between us.”

  The men around him looked at each other. They all looked intrigued. He couldn’t help being a little annoyed by it. They were enjoying his uncomfortable situation. He could tell. He wasn’t going to live down this loss anytime soon. If only he hadn’t let his arrogance get the better of him. He was a good player. But sometimes the cards weren’t dealt in his favor.

  “I guess we can agree to that,” the same man said reluctantly, looking around for the approval of the other players. They all nodded. They just wanted to see what would happen to Jarrett.

  Somewhat relieved, Jarrett looked at Pauline.

  “You want to cut the cards, my dear?”

  “Think it would be better if one of the other men did that,” Anderson said, finally speaking up. “Don’t need to be your girlfriend. Making things go your way and all.”

  Jarrett was glad to hear the sound of heavy drink in Anderson’s slurred words. Surely, he would beat him this time. He just had to have the right cards. He just had to play the game right.

  Chapter 2

  “Thirty head of cattle would do good to replenish the cattle my ranch lost those five years back,” Bart Anderson continued. “You sure Pa would approve?”

  Jarrett didn’t like the tone he was using. He was being condescending. Jarrett was too wealthy for a lowlander like Bart Anderson to speak to him like that.

  “I can do what I like,” Jarrett growled, narrowing his eyes. “Deal the cards, Pauline. This coward is trying to get out of playing me.”

  Bart raised his eyebrows, giving the younger Jarrett a look that showed how little he cared about being called a coward. One side of his lips lifted in a grin that Jarrett himself used often when he had the upper hand on someone else.

  But Anderson didn’t have the upper hand, Jarrett told himself. He was just another fool in a game Jarrett knew how to play very, very well. He swept his eyes around the table, taking in all the players and the people standing behind them. The game had drawn the attention of nearly everyone in the saloon.

  He hid his nervousness well. None of them knew the anxiety and fear brewing up inside his chest. If he lost this hand, it would cost his family $3000 and 30 head of cattle. When he’d made the offer, no one was paying attention to their game. Now everyone was watching.

  Losing would mean utter humiliation to him. For the first time, he wished he could communicate with Pauline through their thoughts, so she could ensure he won by telling him what was in Anderson’s hand.

  He flipped his fingers for the hand to be dealt and watched as the cards slid into a pile in front of him. He put on a brave face but his nerves were on fire. Flipping the cards up so he could see them didn’t give him any comfort. The hand was crappy. He needed to be very careful. Anderson would easily beat him if he got even a slightly better hand.

  Jarrett stared at the pair of deuces and wondered if he could possibly pin all his hopes on a hand like that. He traded off a few cards and tried to think strategically. He’d never been in such an awkward position before.

  The cards he received were no better to giving a good hand than those he started out with. With a grunt, he lifted the corners of his lips and gave Anderson a look of triumph.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

  Bart Anderson lifted his eyebrows. “I have nothing to lose here and everything to gain. I am ready when you are, sir.”

  Jarrett realized his mistake too late. There should have been some stakes high enough to make it more difficult for his opponent. He’d spoken too soon. He could hear his father telling him how stupid he was in the back of his mind.

  “Are you ready then?” he asked, hoping they wouldn’t notice his stalling. It didn’t matter how long he stalled. The outcome would be the same. He was certain his pair of twos would not carry him into the winner’s circle.

  Anderson flipped over his cards.

  Full house.

  Jarrett’s heart plummeted into his stomach. He felt nauseous. His father was going to be furious. He would never hear the end of it. Their herd was a thousand strong but losing thirty wasn’t a blow to their numbers, it was a blow to their pride.

 
Suddenly, Jarrett felt like the useless troublemaker his father always accused him of being. All he wanted was to find some happiness doing something and be allowed to do it without impediment.

  The money was another blow. He would have to ask his father for it. There was no way he was going to use his savings to pay this man. His win was a fluke. It shouldn’t have happened. His luck had taken a turn for the better recently. Why did that streak have to break now? With this game?

  “We’re waiting, Raines,” the man sitting next to Anderson spoke up, his voice taunting. Jarrett’s eyes darted to the man’s face but he didn’t look intimidated. Disappointed but determined not to let them notice, he flipped his cards over.

  A deathly silence covered them like a thick blanket. No one moved. All eyes were on Jarrett.

  When Anderson caught sight of his pair of twos, his eyes widened in shock. He looked up at Jarrett, back to the cards and back to Jarrett’s stony face.

  “You won,” Jarrett forced himself to speak the words. “I will owe you the money and the cattle.” He lifted one hand and flicked two fingers at Pauline without taking his eyes from Anderson’s face. The man was obviously holding in his excitement. It was a good thing. Jarrett’s fingers were itching to pull a trigger. He was going to be in big trouble with his father. It wasn’t something he was looking forward to.

  “Pauline, get me a pen and paper. I will write the man a promissory note. I am good for it, Anderson. I’m sure you know that.”

  Anderson nodded vigorously, his eyes still wide with delight. There wasn’t a word spoken in the room as Pauline fetched the pen and paper and gave it to Jarrett, who wrote out the promissory note. Signing the note was the hardest thing Jarrett had done in all his 20 years of living.

  He was lucky his father wasn’t the type to thrash his sons. Otherwise, Jarrett would be adding to many scars. He hadn’t been the best of sons over the years, but who was to say what was good and what was bad? He was just a young man trying to find his way.

  Every excuse he could think of ran through his mind while he wrote out the note. He folded it, returning his stare directly at Anderson. He held the folded paper up between two fingers and leaned forward on the table.

  He held the paper out to the older man. When Anderson went to take it from his fingers, he jerked his arm back toward himself. The confused look on Anderson’s face delighted him. It would be the last time he could play with the man so he was going to drag it out as long as he could.

  He was already beginning to feel the humiliation in the air around him. Everyone was looking at him. How long could he act tough when he’d just lost an important game of poker and brought shame on his family name and, more importantly, himself?

  He didn’t bother looking up at Pauline. He knew she was ashamed of him. He would have to work hard to regain her respect after this.

  He lowered his arm again so that Anderson could take the paper. This time, he didn’t pull his arm back but let the older man pull the paper from his fingers. It frustrated him that he was helpless to stop these events from unfolding.

  If only he’d had a better hand.

  “Thank you, Mr. Raines,” Bart Anderson said in a polite voice that only made Jarrett hate him even more. “My family appreciates this very much.”

  “Get out of here.” Jarrett couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to look at the man anymore.

  He turned his eyes away when Anderson shoved his chair back and hurried to the door of the saloon, disappearing from Jarrett’s sight quickly.

  Chapter 3

  Laila moved slowly through the kitchen, stirring the dumplings, checking on the chicken, cleaning up small messes left behind from earlier in the day when she’d made her father and brother lunch. She passed the window facing the field and caught her reflection in the glass. Leaning back slightly so she could look at herself again, she studied the worry lines under and around her eyes.

  In just five short years, she’d aged ten. She was still young, just 21 years of age. But losing her mother at 16 had had a bigger effect on her than anyone could have predicted. The past five years had been hard on them all.

  Reuben shut down. Even though he was seventeen when they lost their mother and well on his way to becoming an adult, he still needed her. He needed her comfort, her nurturing, her love and her support. She had been a source of encouragement and motivation for both her children throughout their childhoods.

  Laila moved away from her reflection, patting her chestnut brown hair, many wisps of which had come loose from the long braid it was held back in. She probably didn’t look as old as she thought she did. It had been a long, hot day in Juniper and she was already tired.

  It was her father who had taken the death of his wife the hardest. Laila knew how much her parents loved each other. For her father to lose his other half was the most painful thing she could think of to happen – other than losing one of his children. He was a kind and loving father, a hard worker, a good businessman…

  And then his lovely Rebecca was taken by pneumonia.

  The first two years after her mother died, Bart Anderson had seemed strong. He continued working and running the ranch. He did his best to recover after the loss of more than half their herd the same year Rebecca died. He managed to recover a third of what they lost.

  On the two-year anniversary of her mother’s passing, Reuben had found their father unconscious in the tall grass of one of their fields. He’d only known where Bart was because Lucky, his father’s horse, wouldn’t leave his master alone. The animal was grazing within a few feet of his fallen rider.

  Since the discovery of a weak heart, Bart appeared to give up. He began drinking heavily and gambling any extra money the family got. No amount of complaining, whining, nagging, pleading, begging or shows of concern could keep Bart from quitting his new addictions, his new forms of escape.

  She looked up from the bubbling water which was boiling two long ears of yellow corn when the front door opened. She heard it slam shut and the sound of her brother’s heavy boots going into the mudroom.

  By the time he came into the dining room and kitchen, Laila was spooning potatoes with melted cheese, chunks of hot, delicious chicken and biscuits onto a plate for him.

  He smiled in appreciation, taking the plate from her. “Thanks, Laila. You’re a godsend.”

  “I hope you’re ready to eat,” Laila said, staying at the stove to make her own plate of food.

  “Oh, I am. And this smells absolutely delicious. Couldn’t have asked for more. Thanks again, sis. I worked pretty hard today.”

  “You work hard every day, Reuben. You deserve it.”

  “You work just as hard,” her brother said, smiling at her as she sat across from him. He looked down and back up again. “I think we should probably use forks, don’t you think?”

  Laila glanced down to see she hadn’t put any forks or utensils on the table at all. She laughed and hopped back up to grab them from the drawer. “I don’t think we want to be eating with our hands when Pa gets back, do we?”

  Reuben gave her a sorrowful look. She knew why. There was little chance their father would come home to eat dinner with them. It was a Saturday night, when all the men were paid and in the saloon, playing cards and drinking.

  She was just grateful they still had food to eat. When it came down to it, she and Reuben could make the money to keep themselves clothed and fed. But it was a shame they had to and disheartening to think their father wasn’t strong enough to handle his losses.

  Neither of them had grown up with tragedy. Their childhood involved their mother and she loved them from the moment they were born. She told them daily and they were old enough at 16 and 18 to remember it. She knew that her father was proud of her and happy to be her father. His heart was broken in half and that was the long and short of it.