The Sisters of Bethlehem Springs Collection

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  Christina looked out the doorway. “Oh, Daphne. It’s you. What are you doing here so early? Was there a problem with your column?”

  “No. No problem. But I need to talk to Mr. Crawford.” A tiny thrill ran through her as she amended her words. “To Joshua.”

  If Christina noticed, she didn’t let on. “I’m sorry. You just missed him. He’s on his way to the depot to meet the morning train.”

  “The train?” She was too late. He was leaving, just as he’d told her he would.

  “Yes. He told me he—”

  Daphne didn’t wait to hear whatever Christina had to say. She whirled around and raced out into the frosty morning. She ran as best she could through the snow. As she reached the rise in the road, she saw the train was already at the station.

  Please don’t go. Please don’t leave.

  She slipped on an icy patch and fell to her knees. A cry escaped her lips as she struggled back to her feet and kept going. She saw him then, climbing the steps to the platform.

  “Joshua!”

  He didn’t stop, didn’t turn. She was too far away to be heard over the hissing of the train.

  “Joshua!”

  Breathing hard, she ran on.

  “Joshua!”

  Now walking on the platform, he hesitated, then looked over his shoulder.

  She waved her arm over her head. “Wait!”

  He returned to the top of the stairs.

  Daphne dragged in a deep breath and pressed on, hoping not to slip and fall again. She had to reach him. She had to stop him from leaving. It seemed an eternity before she reached the steps to the station platform. She paused to catch her breath again but kept her eyes locked on Joshua.

  He came down two steps and stopped again.

  “Please don’t go, Joshua.” “I wasn’t—”

  “I was wrong. Terribly wrong.”

  “Wrong about what?”

  “I shouldn’t have walked out yesterday the way I did. It was rude. I should have stayed and listened to everything you had to say. I should have given you a chance to explain.”

  “You did. I’d said it all.”

  “Don’t go back to St. Louis. Please stay.”

  The hint of a smile curved his mouth. “Why?” He came down one more step. Close enough that she could almost drown in the blue of his eyes.

  “Because I shouldn’t have judged you the way I did. I haven’t always told the whole truth either. About my writing. About lots of things. If you’re guilty of wrong doing, then so am I.”

  “I’m not sure that’s reason enough for me to stay.”

  “Not reason enough?” Panic ignited in her chest. “But I love you, Joshua.”

  In a flash, he was off the last step and his arms were around her. “That’s the only reason I need.” He lifted her feet off the ground and kissed her, right there for anyone and everyone to see. Kissed her until she was more winded than the race to the station had left her. Kissed her thoroughly, completely, and until there was no doubt left in her mind that he loved her still.

  When her feet touched the ground again, she opened her eyes to gaze into his. “You’ll stay?” she asked softly.

  “Actually, I came to see if my trunk has arrived.” He gave a small shrug and grinned. “Mother shipped my things to me since it appeared I would be staying longer than first planned.”

  “You weren’t leaving?” She drew back.

  He shook his head, the grin fading away. “Not without you, Daphne. I’m not going anywhere without you. Not ever. Looks like you’re stuck with me, for better or worse.”

  September 1, 1904

  I am taking up this record of my life one last time. Much has happened since I made the last entry more than thirty years ago. Many good things. Some hard things. There has been great happiness and great sorrow.

  Now I am dying. Although the physician doesn’t say so, I know it is true. Perhaps I will live another month or two. Perhaps I will die before tomorrow comes. I don’t mind. I am eighty-three years old. I’ve outlived many others. My eyesight is no longer good, and my aged body aches in many ways. It is time. My only regret is that I must say good-bye to those I love.

  This journal has been a private thing, but now I wonder if it should be shared. I have never told Angelica Ruth about the man I was before I met her mother. Perhaps that is well and good. But there is Joshua to consider. Perhaps the boy should be told. Mine would be a cautionary tale, lessons that might keep him from making similar mistakes as he grows up without a father or a grandfather. I know too well what that is like.

  As I look back over my years in St. Louis, these are the strongest memories:

  My Annie died in the night, February 13, 1885, her body ravished by the disease that tortured her for five months. I did not know if I could bear the pain of my loss. Nor could I understand why God took her when I needed her as I did. The years we had together were too few, but the Lord sustained me.

  Angelica Ruth married William James Crawford on November 2, 1888. She was only sixteen, more than half the age of her mother when Annie married me. She was a beautiful young woman, loving and devoted and all of the things her mother and I wished her to be. But how difficult it was to give my little girl into the care of another man, even a good man such as Bill Crawford.

  One of the best days of my life was on August 8, 1889, the day I became a grandfather. Joshua Richard Crawford was born early in the morning. Even as a newborn, I could tell he had his grandmother Annie’s blue eyes. He still has them today.

  Sadly, Joshua never got to know his father. At least not long enough to keep him in his memories. Bill Crawford was thrown from a horse on the Fourth of July while racing in the Independence Day celebration. He died the next morning of his injuries. Angelica Ruth and little Joshua came to live with me soon after the funeral. While I was glad to have them, I was heartbroken because of the reason. I prayed that God would enable me to be a good influence on the boy, that his faith would be strong from his youth, and that he would not make the kind of mistakes I made.

  Joshua is fourteen now—tall, good looking, and smart. He excels in his schooling. His worst character flaw is his temper, so much like mine in my earlier years. Still, I have high hopes for my grandson.

  There has been a downturn of my fortunes in recent years, and I will not leave him or his mother as well off financially as I would have wished. But they will be comfortable and what they will have has been honestly earned. I am glad of that. Perhaps my true legacy for the boy will be that he saw me use what I had to make a difference in the lives of others. I hope that will be so. I hope he will do the same.

  Joshua, if you are reading this, then I was right. My time has come. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to live long enough to see you grow into manhood, graduate from college, perhaps even marry and start a family of your own.

  Know this, my dear boy: that I loved you and that I was as proud of you as any man could be.

  Put God first, Joshua, and He will guide your steps throughout your life. Listen to His voice, heed His corrections, and you will avoid the many traps and snares of this world. I hope reading this record of my past did not discourage you or make you feel less of me. I hope you will see in it the power of the Almighty to change a life, to turn all things to good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose.

  And now, may the Lord bless thee, and keep thee. May the Lord make His face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee. May He lift up His countenance upon thee, and give thee peace. Amen.

  Until we meet again in Heaven, I remain

  Your loving Grandfather

  EPILOGUE

  JUNE 1919

  As dusk settled over Bethlehem Springs on an unusually warm evening toward the end of June, Daphne Crawford parked her motorcar at the curb on Wallula Street and dashed into the house.

  “You missed it!” she proclaimed as she dropped her straw hat onto the entry table.

  Joshua rose from the chair
at the kitchen table. “What do you mean, I missed it?”

  “It’s over. Cleo had her baby already. It’s a boy. Healthy and beautiful and perfect in every way.”

  He looked at his pocket watch. “But you said I didn’t need to rush over to the McKinley’s. You said—”

  “Cleo didn’t waste any time.” As she spoke, she went to him and slipped into the circle of his arms. “Don’t worry. She didn’t mind that you weren’t downstairs with Woody and Morgan, and she wasn’t in labor long enough for her husband to even start to worry. Griff didn’t get there either.”

  “I bought cigars for everyone.”

  Daphne wrinkled her nose. “You can pass them out tomorrow. Just don’t smoke them around me. Nasty things.”

  “I promise we won’t.” He drew her closer.

  She smiled as she tipped back her head to receive his kiss. There was no place on earth she would rather be than right there in Joshua’s arms, his lips warm upon her lips, his heart beating in unison with hers. Although others might disagree, she knew she was the happiest woman to ever live.

  When the kiss ended, she pressed her cheek against his chest. “I never imagined seeing a child born could be so amazing. It’s a miracle. It really is.” She pulled back to look him in the eyes. “And Cleo was wonderful. She said childbirth wasn’t any harder than breaking a wild mustang.”

  Joshua laughed. “Only Cleo would make such a comparison.”

  “That’s exactly what I said to her.” Daphne slipped out of his embrace and went to put the kettle on the stove. “Would you like some tea?”

  “No, thanks.”

  She busied herself at the counter. “Woody and Cleo still haven’t agreed on a name. She doesn’t want anything too lah-di-dah.” As she said the word, she heard Cleo’s voice in her head, and it brought back her smile.

  “I can’t blame her for that.” Joshua’s hands alighted on her shoulders. “But I’m wondering, do you care to know why I was delayed in coming to the McKinley house?”

  Something in his voice caused her to turn around. Yes, there was a definite twinkle in his eyes, a sparkle that told her he had a secret he was dying to reveal. “What?”

  “You had a telephone call.”

  “From whom?”

  The corners of his mouth tipped upward. “From a Mr. Elwood Shriver of New York.”

  “Mr. Shriver? He called here?”

  “Yes.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “What did he want?”

  “He wants to publish your book about Grandfather. He loves it.”

  “He does?” The words were barely audible.

  Joshua chuckled. “Did you really doubt he would want it? Didn’t I tell you it was wonderful before you sent it to him?”

  She shook her head, nodded, shook her head, nodded.

  “The book is wonderful.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m so proud of you.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Grandfather would be proud of you too.”

  Daphne’s throat tightened and tears flooded her eyes. She and Joshua had gone to St. Louis for their honeymoon just so she could spend time with those who had known Richard Terrell best—his daughter, his closest friend, the people who ran the orphanage and the men’s shelter. Now, several months later, it felt to Daphne as if she had personally known Joshua’s grandfather, and she wanted others to come to love and admire him the way she did. Now, with the publication of this book, perhaps they would.

  As Joshua drew her close and kissed her on the mouth once again, inexpressible joy blossomed in her heart. Who could have imagined a year ago where she would be today? Who could have guessed that she would fall in love with an editor from St. Louis and go on to write a book about his grandfather? Who could have foreseen the happiness that embodied her days and nights?

  No one. Not even she had imagined it. Not in her wildest dreams. If she’d plotted her life as carefully as she plotted her novels, she still couldn’t have imagined a more perfect ending than this one.

  Nor a more perfect beginning.

  Acknowledgments for A Vote of Confidence

  With much appreciation to all the people at Zondervan who work so hard to bring my books to readers. Without my publisher, editors, designers, and marketing and publicity people, these stories would be nothing more than entertainment for myself.

  Acknowledgments for Fit to be Tied

  Many thanks to Tammy, who came up with exactly the right title for this book, and to my editor, Sue, who had such great suggestions on how to make the story even better.

  From the Author on A Vote of Confidence

  Who says a woman can’t be a mayor?

  Dear Friends:

  I hope you enjoyed meeting Gwen, Morgan, and the other residents of Bethlehem Springs as much as I have and that you will look forward, along with me, to returning to this small Idaho town again.

  In A Vote of Confidence, Gwen becomes the mayor of Bethlehem Springs in 1915. The first woman mayor in America was, in fact, elected in Idaho, but the year was 1918, three years after my story. The woman’s name was Laura Starcher, and she served as mayor of Parma, Idaho.

  Here are two more facts that might interest you:

  • In 1896, the woman’s suffrage amendment to the Idaho Constitution was adopted, giving Idaho women the right to vote.

  • Two women ran for the office of president of the United States well before my fictional character ran for mayor. Victoria Woodhull ran for the presidency in 1872 and Belva Lockwood in 1884, and again in 1888. Neither was permitted under the law to vote, but nothing in the law prevented them from running for office. Ironic, isn’t it?

  As I write this note to my readers, I am busy telling Cleo’s story (Who says a woman can’t be a wrangler?). Wait until you see who wins her heart! Look for Fit To Be Tied in late 2009.

  I invite you to drop by my website ( www.robinleehatcher.com) and my Write Thinking blog (robinlee.typepad.com) for the latest information available about me and my books.

  Until the next time, “May the LORD keep watch between you and me when we are away from each other” (Genesis 31:49 TNIV).

  In the grip of His grace,

  Robin Lee Hatcher

  From the Author on Fit to be Tied

  Who says a woman can’t be a wrangler?

  Dear Friends:

  I had so much fun writing Cleo and Woody’s story. I hope you had just as much fun reading it.

  Cleo, of course, was always slated to be the heroine of the second book in the Sisters of Bethlehem Springs series, but I had no idea who would be the hero. Just like Cleo, I expected he would be a cowboy. So imagine my surprise when Lord Sherwood introduced himself to me. How on earth would these two ever find love? Talk about oil and water! And what fun to see them come together in the end.

  And what about this wrangler/cowgirl business? The early American West was a great training ground. Girls and women worked right alongside the men in their families to carve out new lives in an oftentimes harsh land. In fact ranches and farms were where many future rodeo cowgirls (among the first professional female athletes in the United States) learned their riding and roping skills. Between 1890 and 1943, more than 450 women worked as professional cowgirls. In addition to rodeos, many worked at Wild West shows, exhibitions, and eventually in motion pictures.

  As I write this note to my readers, I have just begun writing Daphne’s story (Who says a woman can’t write dime novels?). Look for A Word to the Wise in the spring of 2010.

  I hope you’ll visit my Web site (www.robinleehatcher.com) and my Write Thinking blog (robinlee.typepad.com) for the latest information about me and my books.

  Until the next time, “May the Lord keep watch between you and me when we are away from each other” (Genesis 31:49 TNIV).

  In the grip of His grace,

  Robin Lee Hatcher

  From the Author on A Matter of Character

  Who says a woman can’t be a dime novelist?

  Dear Friends:

  I hope
you enjoyed getting to know Daphne and Joshua and that you were rooting for their Happily Ever After as much as I was.

  Long before Daphne McKinley put fountain pen to paper, women had entered the publishing world using male pseudonyms. However, it wasn’t unheard of in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries for women to write dime novels under their own names. Most often, these women writers wrote romantic fiction for women readers. Sounds similar to today.

  Another similarity that arose while I was writing, revising, and editing this book in 2009-2010 was the nasty flu season. For us it was the Swine Flu. For the people in Daphne’s time (1918-1919) it was the Spanish Flu. That earlier pandemic is estimated to have killed between fifty million to one hundred million people around the globe—between three and seven times the casualties as from the First World War.

  And now it’s time to bid farewell to the Sisters of Bethlehem Springs and the men who won their hearts. I’m going to miss Gwen and Morgan, Cleo and Woody, and Daphne and Joshua. Yet I have complete confidence that these three couples will do well, that they will march into their futures with confidence, that they won’t be afraid to open new doors and try new things, all the while honoring God and family.

  What’s next? you ask. First up is Bounty of Silver, a stand-alone historical romance set in the late 1800s, followed by a new historical romance trilogy (as yet unnamed).

  For the latest information about my past and future releases, please visit my website or drop by my fan page on Facebook.

  In the grip of His grace,

  Robin Lee Hatcher

  www.RobinLeeHatcher.com

  Also by Robin Lee Hatcher

  A Promise Kept

  Love Without End

  (Available November 2014)

  WHERE THE HEART LIVES SERIES