Heart sinking to his gut, Chisholm pushed Bullet harder. Only a few more yards to the creek’s bank, and he could get to Caro. Reynolds rolled away from Ricardo and spotted Chisholm. He jumped on his roan and drove his spurs into the animal’s sides. If Chisholm didn’t stop him, he’d get away.
But saving Caro was more important. Chisholm halted Bullet so hard, the horse reared. He vaulted from the saddle, dropped his rifle, and tore his boots off. Caro bobbed in the current. He jumped into the creek, and the shock of the cold water stole his breath. Lifting his head, he spotted her. It took only a few kicks to reach her. He grabbed the back of her collar and drew her against him. She struggled and kicked. He crooked his arm beneath her chin. “Relax, Caro. I’ve got you.”
She gave up the fight, and he swam back to the bank, where Ricardo was waiting to help her to solid ground. Chisholm scrambled up the slope and pulled her into his arms.
He sucked in a lungful of air. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” But her shivering told him otherwise.
“Ricardo, get the blanket off my horse.” His heart pounded. He’d almost lost her.
Caro pulled back and brushed a strand of wet hair from her face. She smiled, her eyes droopy with exhaustion. “The one time I wanted you to do your duty, and you let Señor Reynolds get away.”
Caro stood on the porch of the Walking Diamond’s ranch house, watching for Chisholm to return. The sun would set any minute. Where was he?
As soon as he’d seen her back to her mother’s care, Chisholm and Ricardo had ridden off to help Whit. He promised to return after they’d arrested Reynolds and his men and turned them over to the sheriff, and she hadn’t stopped praying for his and Whit’s safety since.
At least she prayed continually while she was awake. After a warm bath, her mother had insisted she go to bed, and sleep had overcome her for most of the afternoon.
Now Caro sat down in a rocking chair on the porch and glanced around this place. Sadness filled her and she hugged herself. This ranch house had become her home. Ricardo, her mother, and she had no claim to it. They’d have to leave, and Chisholm would have to go on his way, as well.
The pounding of hooves sent her spirits soaring. Whit and Ricardo rode in first, followed by Chisholm. Something trailed behind Chisholm’s horse, and she strained to see it.
Chisholm drew closer and the other two men headed toward the barn. She could now see he had a little longhorn calf in tow. Chisholm laughed. “Don’t look so confused. Don’t you recognize Bluebonnet?”
“I thought it was her, but why is she here?”
“She’s a gift from Slade McCord.”
She descended the porch steps and knelt beside the calf. “It was nice of him to give you a gift for catching the wranglers.”
“She’s not for me. She’s for us.” Chisholm held out his hand and pulled her to her feet. He didn’t release her but instead looked down into her eyes, his dimples impossibly deep. “Bluebonnet is a wedding present. She’ll be the first cow in our herd.”
Caro’s breath caught.
“I know you can’t marry a man of duty, so I’ll resign from the Texas Rangers as soon as possible. I can live without them, but I can’t live without you. I love you, Caro, and I’m asking you to marry me.”
She bit her lip. How was she going to refuse him?
Chapter Twelve
A strange tightness seized Chisholm’s throat. What was taking Caro so long to answer?
“I can’t marry you”—she dropped her gaze to their joined hands—“under those conditions.”
“Do you want to live here? I’m sure I can find a way to get this place. Reynolds isn’t going to be needing it, but if I get married before the end of the year, then you can’t believe the part of the 7 Heart Ranch I’ll receive.”
She jerked her head up, her molasses-colored eyes wide. “What?”
He started to repeat himself, but she stopped him. “Chisholm, this isn’t about where we’d live. You’re a Texas Ranger—”
“Caro, I said I’ll give that up.”
“But I don’t want you to.” She pulled from his arms and turned. “It’s who you are. You’re fiercely loyal. You’re a man who feels a responsibility for helping Texas, and the world needs men like you.”
Chisholm shook his head. “So you won’t marry me if I’m a Texas Ranger, and you won’t marry me if I’m not?”
“Not exactly.” She smiled. “I now realize that being a Ranger is part of what makes me love you.”
His lips curled upward at her admission. “Go on.”
“Like it or not, I’ve fallen in love with a man of duty, a Texas Ranger to his core, and the only way I’ll marry you is if you promise to keep doing what you love as long as you like.”
“But what about you? I can’t hurt you every time I have to go away.”
“I imagine Bluebonnet and I will do fine at the 7 Heart Ranch, waiting for your return.”
What did she mean? This didn’t sound like a refusal. “So you’re saying yes?”
“Sí, mi amor.” She placed her hands on his broad chest. “Now stop standing there with your mouth hanging open and kiss me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He removed his hat and pulled her close, branding the lips of the future Mrs. Hart with his own.
Caro adjusted her position in Angel’s saddle and glanced at Chisholm, who rode beside her. After five days driving nearly three hundred head of cattle from the Walking Diamond to the 7 Heart Ranch, she was ready for a bath and bed. Whit, Ricardo, Chisholm, and her mamá all seemed in a similar state. While she was glad Chisholm had hastily arranged purchase of the incarcerated rancher’s stock, it had certainly made the journey longer. One look at Bluebonnet, however, made her glad the docile animals had joined them.
Caro looked down at her dusty skirt and sighed. She was not going to make a good first impression. Her hair refused to remain tied back, she reeked of horse sweat, and her clothes needed a thorough washing. She’d begged Chisholm to let them have a day to clean up before she met his family, but he’d pressed on, eager to be home.
She couldn’t blame him. He’d not been with his family for months. He’d explained his father’s ultimatum regarding his share of the ranch, and she couldn’t help but tease him about having no choice but to marry her.
“Are we close?” Caro leaned over her saddle horn.
“We’ve been on the ranch for the last two hours, Caro.” Chisholm chuckled and swept his arm over the area. “This will be Crockett’s place. Ours is on the Little Bianco Creek southwest of El Regalo.”
“El Regalo is your house? ‘The gift’?” Caro tucked a loose hair behind her ear.
He nodded. “Pa built El Regalo as a gift to my mother. And, Caro, you can stop fussing. They’re going to love you as much as I do.”
The largest stone ranch house she’d ever seen came into view. In the front, a tower seemed to touch the sky. She gasped. “This is your El Regalo?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Who has to clean it?”
“Not you.” Chisholm laughed. “I wired my brother that I was bringing home a bride, and hopefully they’ve already started framing our house, which will not be this large in case you’re worried.”
“Gracias.” She looked again at the massive home in front of them. “Chisholm, what if your father doesn’t approve of me? I’ll understand, and you’ll still have time to find another bride.”
He flashed her a grin. “Nah. I’ve gone through enough roping you, so I reckon I’ll put up a fight to keep you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Chisholm’s face hurt from grinning. He stood in his old bedroom, adjusting the small tied cravat about his neck. It had been so long since he wore a frock coat and vest that he chafed beneath its constriction, but the discomfort was worth it. In a few minutes, surrounded by his family, he’d meet his bride in El Regalo’s parlor.
The whole house smelled of Perla and Maria’s spicy Mexican cuisine. Betwe
en the two women, his pa said that he and Caro’s wedding supper would be something no one would ever forget. He recalled the first meal Caro served him and smiled. He’d warned her that he liked things spicy, and Caro was all that and more.
His pa loved Caro. He said she had fire in her veins and in her eyes. His brothers loved her, too. They’d said she was tough enough to handle ranch life, and they were surprised she fell for a weak fellow like him. Perla had kissed his cheek and said he’d brought her the best gift in the world—a daughter in Caro and a new friend in Maria. Emma, Hays’s new bride, welcomed the first of what she hoped would be many new sisters.
Chisholm chuckled to himself. He still couldn’t believe the youngest Hart had been the first to take a bride.
He picked up his Texas Ranger star and held it. Should he wear it today? Caro had said she loved all of him, including his sense of duty, but was wearing the star too much? He felt naked without it, so he opted for pinning it onto his vest.
A knock on the door sounded and his father entered. “You ready, son?”
“Yes, sir.” He tugged on the lapels of his coat.
In front of the fireplace, Chisholm took his place. Whit stood beside him. It only seemed right.
Caro took his breath away when she entered the parlor in her sunflower-yellow dress, carrying a bouquet of bluebonnets. A piece of fine white lace veiled her face. Rev. Longley said something about Adam and Eve and leavin’ and cleavin’, but Chisholm didn’t’ truly hear the words. His pulse drummed in his ears as he said “I do,” and soon he was being directed to “kiss the bride.”
He blinked and took a deep breath, before lifting the veil and peering into Caro’s eyes. Love shone on her face. This incredible lady was his wife. He bent to kiss her.
“Wait,” she whispered. “Where’s your star?”
He patted his vest.
Rumbles and chuckles could be heard from those gathered to witness the wedding. She slipped her hand inside to reach his vest, removed the badge, and then replaced it on the front of his coat. “Now, Texas Ranger, you may kiss me.”
And he did, soundly, leaving a promise of more to come.
One thing was certain. His loyalty might belong to Texas, but his heart belonged to Caro Cardova Valenzuela Hart.
Lorna Seilstad brings history back to life using a generous dash of humor. She is a Carol Award finalist and the author of the Lake Manawa Summers series and the Gregory Sisters series. When she isn’t eating chocolate, she’s teaches women’s Bible classes and is a 4-H leader in her home state of Iowa. She and her husband have three children. Learn more about Lorna at www.lornaseilstad.com.
The Truest Heart
by Amanda Barratt
Acknowledgments
My heartfelt appreciation goes out to:
My agent, Rachel, for her wise guidance and never-ending encouragement.
The fabulous team at Barbour Publishing—you’re all so gifted at what you do!
And to the incredible group of ladies who brought the Hart brothers to life—you’ve made this process such a joy! I loved working with each and every one of you.
Soli Deo Gloria
Chapter One
May 1874
The Texas Hill Country, she had missed.
The man before her, she—regrettably—had not.
Annie Lawrence found a smile for Brock Parker and stepped into his stiff embrace. Her father’s arms encircled her for the briefest of moments, before he pulled away, surveying her from bonneted head to boot-clad feet.
His eyes narrowed, his mouth firming into a dour frown. The sort of frown that spoke volumes. Words soon added to the equation.
“You’re thinner than you were. You look older, too. I would think you a staid matron of thirty-five, if I didn’t know better. Where’d your bloom go, girl?”
When it came to expectations, far too often, her negative ones were met. No, exceeded. Especially where her father was concerned.
Drawing his attention away from her bloom, or lack thereof, she nudged Robbie forward. Her nine-year-old son seemed reluctant to leave the barricade of her petticoats and face the open fire of meeting his grandfather. Yet Robbie responded to her prodding, removing his straw hat and holding out his travel-grubby hand. As if Brock Parker were President Grant instead of a small-scale cattle rancher.
“Pleased to meet you, Grandfather. Ma’s told me a whole lot about you.” Robbie’s cinnamon-hued hair riffled in the breeze, his brown eyes full of hesitant anticipation.
Annie’s breath webbed in her throat. Her father wouldn’t reject his only grandson. Would he? Not on their first meeting. Not when the boy had pinned so much hope upon this encounter.
“Has she?” Her father’s Texas drawl was as smooth as maple syrup, though perhaps not quite as sweet.
Zeke, one of her father’s few hands, sauntered across the dusty yard of the Parker ranch, toward the bunkhouse, a pail of water clutched in one fist. He paused in his jaunty rendition of “Arkansas Traveler” to aim quizzical glances in his boss’s direction. No doubt the middle-aged cowhand scarcely remembered her. It had been nine years since she left, and she, a mere slip of a girl then.
Annie turned her gaze back to her son. “Oh yes, sir.” Robbie nodded vigorously. “She’s told me all ’bout how you own lots and lots of cows, and how I’d get to come help you rope ’em, and brand ’em, and you’d learn me everything there is to know.”
Instead of looking pleased, her father only glowered. “Teach, boy.”
“Huh?” Robbie scrunched his nose. The wide look in his eyes gave warning that he was about two shakes of a lamb’s tail from seeking refuge behind her gray traveling skirt.
“Teach you everything there is to know. Not learn. And if you’re the sort of dunce who utilizes bad grammar, I doubt there will be much I can do on any account.” Her father swiped at a fly, the impatient flick seeming to dismiss Robbie as well as the insect. “Of course, I blame it entirely on your mother. She never was one to put much stock in education.”
Annie bit her lip. Suddenly, all she had done seemed like a terrible mistake. Leaving Galveston, the quiet gentility of life with Stuart’s mother, Mrs. Lawrence. Never mind that Galveston was a bustling city, giving Robbie no chance to run and play outside, as she’d done in her girlhood. But at least there her son hadn’t been ridiculed for the slightest misuse of grammar.
And if all she remembered about her father proved to hold correct, things were only going to get worse.
A young woman opened the ranch house door and hurried outside, crinoline swinging, fashionable coiffure already askew. A genuine smile appeared on Annie’s lips this time. With quick steps, she met her sister halfway and crushed her in an embrace, breathing in the rosewater and love that emanated from Josie Parker like a glow.
“You’re here. At last,” Josie whispered, still clinging tightly to Annie. “You don’t know how happy I am to see you.”
“Believe it or not, I do. I’ve been counting down the days, begrudging the hours.” A little laugh escaped as she repeated what the forever dramatic Josie had written in her last letter.
“And wishing every minute would skedaddle along just a little bit faster.” Tears spilled down Josie’s cheeks, but they were of joy, not sorrow as they’d been at their parting. She pulled from Annie’s embrace with a giggle. “Now, where’s the young gentleman whose acquaintance I have been longing to renew for such a great while?” Josie peered in Robbie’s direction with a welcoming smile.
Annie motioned her son forward. Robbie left his grandfather’s side with an alacrity that didn’t surprise her. Her son’s reluctance only reminded her of herself, twelve or so years ago.
“Are you my aunt Josie?” Robbie gazed at the beautiful young woman with eyes that flickered with hesitation only a moment, before warming to instant adoration. Little wonder. The word beautiful hardly did her sister justice. Golden ringlets. Warm blue eyes. Skin that seemed to stay forever the color of strawberries and cream, a bl
ush in just the right places. The added years had only enhanced Josie’s prettiness. While Annie’s looks, on the other hand, had diminished. Painfully so.
“I am. And you’ll not find a lady in all of Texas happier to be an aunt than I.” Josie’s smile could have fueled a dozen candelabras.
“She likes me, Ma.” Robbie looked up at Annie, smiling shyly. Annie wrapped her arm around her son’s shoulders, hugging him close. Her greatest treasure, this boy of hers.
The only truly good thing that had come out of her marriage to Stuart.
Josie sent a furtive glance in their father’s direction, but Brock Parker was deep in conversation with Mr. Wade, the ranch foreman. She cut her voice low.
“Father didn’t give you much of a welcome, then?”
Annie raised her brow. “Did you expect him to kill the fatted calf for the return of his prodigal daughter?” Despite her best efforts, sarcasm wormed its way into her words.
Josie shrugged, her sigh all the answer that was needed. “Well, everyone else will be glad to see you. Especially Mrs. Miller. Her son stops by most every other day to ask if you’ve come back yet.”
“Is she still seeing patients?” Annie followed her sister toward the house. Though the siding had gained a coat of grayish-white paint, little else about the single-story building had changed. Still the same unkempt shrubbery growing ’round the foundation, the same splintered door frame. The same beaten-down look of disrepair, as if the house had lived too long, and was dead-tired of doing so.
“Yes, but she’ll be happier than a cowboy with his first Stetson for you to take over. She’s getting up in years, and babies are being born more and more these days. That’s the reason she invited you to return and take over her responsibilities. You can ride to town tomorrow and get a list of her current cases.” Josie pushed open the door and stepped aside to let Annie and Robbie into the blessedly cool entryway.
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