Kealan made a disgusted sound in his throat. “Ick. Not with me here you’re not, I’m leaving!”
The adults all chuckled. Renny reached over her sister and grabbed Caitie. “Come on, kid. Let’s go up to bed. I’ll read you a story.”
“Two stories,” Caitie said slyly.
“Chocolate, too?” asked Kealan.
“You bet, punkin.”
Mattie heard the quilt that separated her sleeping quarters from the main room fall into place, and she knew she and Reed were finally alone. She shifted on the broken bed. Reed crawled up beside her and drew her close.
“Some family you’ve got, Mrs. Robertson.”
Mattie snuggled close. “No. Some family we’ve got, Mr. Robertson.” She reached up and pulled his head down to hers. “Some family we are going to have, my love.”
“A man couldn’t ask for much more than that,” Reed said, claiming her mouth with his.
Epilogue
“Caitie! Lizzie! Girls, hurry. We’re waiting for you.” Mattie stood at the ladder leading up to the loft.
“Coming, Mattie.”
“Coming, Mama.” Then came the flurry of starched skirts and stiff petticoats as the two girls climbed down.
“Are you wearing your new dresses?” Mattie reached out and felt the stiff fabric, yards of lace and ribbon and ruffles.
Reed’s mother kept the girls dressed so well that there was no point in saving their best for Sundays or other special events. Only for the dirtiest of chores did the kids put on their plain, everyday clothing.
“My dress is green,” Caitie said.
Mattie smiled at her. “Perfect with those red curls,” she said, running her hand over Caitie’s head to be sure she hadn’t messed up her hair. She straightened the big bow she’d tied.
“Mine’s blue,” Lizzie piped up. “And Caitie found me a blue ribbon.” She held it up and placed it in Mattie’s hand.
Mattie tied the ribbon around the young child’s braid. It was hard to imagine that nearly three years had passed.
Caitie was now seven, and Lizzie nearly five. “There. Your father is going to be so pleased with his beautiful daughters. Go get in the wagon. We’re late, and that will not make him happy!”
The girls squealed with laughter. “Thanks, Mama!” Lizzie ran out.
Mattie listened. She’d heard only one set of running feet. “Caitie? Is anything wrong?”
Caitie leaned against Mattie. “She gets to call you Mama.”
Kneeling, Mattie hugged her young sister. “I am her mama, now. Just like her father is now your father. You call Reed Father, just like she does. We are a family.”
“Yeah. I like that. But—”
“But what, sweets?”
“When baby Annie gets bigger, she’ll get to call you Mama and you’ll be her real mama.” She paused. “I won’t ever have anyone to call Mama.”
Mattie’s heart bled a little. It was true. She’d always be Caitie’s sister. But where it counted, she was the girl’s mother. “In my heart, Caitie, you are my daughter.”
Reaching out, she drew her sister to her and ran her fingers over her face. “Would you like to call me Mama?”
Caitie hesitated, then let her breath out with a rush of air. “I’d always know you were really my sister.”
Smiling, Mattie nodded. “Yes, you would. I think what you call me doesn’t matter as long as you love me and I you.”
Caitie wrapped her arms around Mattie. “I love you, Mattie.” She pulled back, happiness shining in her blue eyes. “Mama.”
“Love you too, sweets.” She stood and listened to Caitie run out the door.
“If she gets to call you Mama, then me too!” Kealan had been in the doorway and had apparently heard. He came to stand beside Mattie. “Unless I’m too big now.”
Mattie laughed. “You’ll never be too big to call me Mama if that’s what you wish.”
“Oh, boy!” Kealan shouted. “Oh, Daire said he has the horses ready and for everyone to hurry up.”
Grinning, Mattie gave him a push. “Then tell him I’m ready.”
“I’m here,” Daire announced, his voice deep. “Now get out and into the wagon, Kea.” His voice cracked, ruining the deep, authoritative command.
Kealan imitated his brother’s unpredictable voice as he ran out. Daire groaned. “You too, Danny! This time, stay in the wagon. Don’t got time to be chasing the two of you all over.”
Mattie grinned as Danny ran out, doing the same thing as Kea. Daire took a stomping step after them, which just sent the boys running wildly. She went to the doorway.
“No one had better get dirty!”
Daire walked back up the steps. He put his hand on her shoulder. “You won’t be offended if I don’t…um, you know, call you Mother?”
“Of course not, Daire.” She hugged him. She didn’t expect him to think of her as his mother. He’d been plenty old enough to remember their mother.
“That’s good. I sure love you—”
“I know what you mean. Now, let’s get going.”
“Right. I’ll get the baby.”
Mattie heard Annie’s soft little squeak as her morning nap was interrupted by Daire’s lifting her out of her cradle. Mattie held out her arms for her daughter. She cuddled Annie close and let Daire take her arm, then she walked outside, down the steps.
Her brother was fast becoming a man at nearly eleven. His experience with Leo and Patrick had matured him, and he took his role as the eldest son of the household seriously. Whenever Reed was gone, he took command of the family.
They reached the wagon. “Hey, settle down, you guys. Your mom’s here.” He took the baby, waited till Mattie was settled, then hopped up and gave her Annie once more.
Taking up the reins, he snapped them.
During the drive to town, Mattie listened to the good-natured arguing behind her, along with Daire’s threats when things got too loud. Smiling, Mattie couldn’t have been happier.
“Hey, here comes Pa,” Daire called out.
Mattie’s smile grew wide. Having Reed home safe always made her happy. She worried over him each day he left to go to work.
Reed drew up beside the wagon. “Afternoon, Mrs. Robertson. Can I offer you a lift?”
Mattie didn’t have time to answer. Reed simply dismounted, scooped her and his daughter into his arms and set them on the back of his horse. He climbed up behind her.
Mattie rode with her legs to one side, her back flat against his chest, his arms securely around her. A tiny dig in her back made her sigh. Who’d have thought that Reed would take on the task of deputy of Pheasant Gully? But after all that had happened, and after finally finding the stolen money, it just had seemed natural for him to take his place at Tyler’s side.
A short ride later, they arrived at the home of Reed’s parents. “Here, love. Let me take her,” her husband said.
Reed took his tiny infant daughter, cradled her close to his heart. Then he wrapped his other arm around Mattie’s waist.
Around them, the children were running for the open door with shouts of “Grandma! Grandpa!”
“I’m so glad they returned to Pheasant Gully with us,” Mattie said. She reached up and touched the brooch that had been found among the bags of money.
Reed had cried when he’d seen it. Anne’s mother had cried when he’d given it back to her, and Mattie had cried when she’d insisted Mattie take it. It was the greatest compliment her new mother-in-law could give her. It was love and acceptance as her daughter.
Reed had also returned the pocketwatch to his father. To their surprise, he’d tossed it in the fire. They weren’t sure why, and Harold Robertson wouldn’t tell them. He’d simply said there were other things more important than hanging o
n to the past.
Reed’s homecoming had been all she could have wished for. His parents, especially his father, had actually been relieved to see their son. Mattie smiled softly. Both Reed and his father had burst immediately into apologies, both trying at once to beg forgiveness.
Reed’s young son had been overjoyed to see his father. Lizzie had been shy at first, but with Caitie, Kealan and Daire, it hadn’t lasted long. Neither had Reed’s parents’ wariness of Mattie.
They’d accepted her after just a few days, knowing how happy their son was, how right she seemed for him, and the love of all the children.
It had been Mattie’s idea for them all to move to Pheasant Gully, especially as Reed’s father had sold the bank and retired. He’d built a home in town and was considering opening a business.
Reed hugged her tightly “We have it all, Mattie,” he whispered. “We have it all.”
“Yes, Reed. We have it all.”
A vision came, soft and sweet like a spring morning. Mattie smiled. When the time was right, Reed would have a son with blond hair and with eyes the same shade of blue as his own.
And as all the children arrived and rushed into the house, Mattie’s vision faded and the plainly furnished room she was in became alive with the sounds love and laughter.
* * * * *
Looking for more romance in the untamed West? Check out these additional titles from Susan Edwards’ bestselling White series, available now.
White Dawn (Book 1 of 12)
White Dusk (Book 2 of 12)
White Shadows (Book 3 of 12)
White Wind (Book 4 of 12)
White Wolf (Book 5 of 12)
White Nights (Book 6 of 12)
White Flame (Book 7 of 12)
White Dreams (Book 8 of 12)
White Dove (Book 9 of 12)
White Vengeance (Book 11 of 12)
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About the Author
Native American/Western romance writer Susan Edwards is the author of the popular White Series. She was nominated for the Romantic Times Career Achievement Award for Western Historical and the Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award. She is very pleased to be able to offer her series in digital format. Susan is working on an idea for a new White book, a reunion of characters. She is also working on developing a new series, one that she is very excited about. Check her website, www.susanedwards.com, for current news.
Susan lives in Central California with her husband and a houseful of cats, including two rescue kittens who stole her heart. Her other passion is gardening. Through her love of all things Native American, she has designed a twenty-six-foot medicine wheel garden and has “broken ground.” It is a big project but one that she loves. You can follow her progress on her website. Susan also loves to knit and join her husband for hikes in the hills when it isn’t too hot outside.
You can follow Susan at her various social media outlets:
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ISBN: 9781426893599
Copyright © 2012 by Susan Edwards
Previously published by Leisure Books
Copyright © 2004 by Susan Edwards
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All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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