KeepingFaithCole

by Christina Cole

  KEEPING FAITH

  Christina Cole

  Sensual Romance

  Secret Cravings Publishing

  www.secretcravingspublishing.com

  ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer.

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  A Secret Cravings Publishing Book

  Sensual Romance

  Keeping Faith

  Copyright © 2014 Christina Cole

  E-book ISBN: 8978-1-63105-238-5

  First E-book Publication: July 2014

  Cover design by Dawné Dominique

  Edited by Julie Reilly

  Proofread by Shannon Ellis

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2014 by Secret Cravings Publishing

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Secret Cravings Publishing

  www.secretcravingspublishing.com

  Dedication

  With love, to my husband, Ken, and to my wonderful mother-in-law, Arlene, and with gratitude to Bill and Sandi Bartlett for the research they provided for this story.

  The Cravings Ebook Club

  The Cravings Paranormal Ebook Club

  Have you heard about the newest idea in ebooks, the ebook club? Secret Cravings Publishing has two ebook clubs, The Cravings Ebook Club or the Cravings Paranormal Ebook Club, and we invite you to become a member.

  As a new member, you will receive Trouble With a Cowboy* by Sandy Sullivan and Blood Kisses** by H.N. Sieverding FREE, just for joining!

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  *Trouble With a Cowboy, a western, erotic romance:

  18 wheels had her heart until one hard-up cowboy found her kickin' up her heels and propositions her to take his bull to Vegas.

  Jacie Hawkins drives big wheelers for a livin'. Something not a lot of women do. Littleton Oklahoma is just a dry stopover for a few hours of rest and relaxation at the nearest bar. Jacie needs to find a hot cowboy to release some of her pent up frustrations on for the night, but wannabe's aren't her style.

  Tucker Marshall needs a big-rig driver to haul his prize bull to National Finals Rodeo and he needs one fast. Who would have thought he'd find one shootin' pool at the local bar dressed to kill and takin' numbers?

  Can some slashed tires and an ornery bull bring two hard-headed people together for some fun in the sun and a little more?

  **Blood Kisses (Nightwalkers 1), paranormal erotic romance:

  Ashleigh Brown, the author of the popular Nightwalkers series, lives a quiet life free of the limelight. She keeps her real identity secret by writing under the pen name, Victoria Allure. She soon finds herself in a bind when she's kidnapped by a group of handsome vampires seeking Victoria. She then agrees to meet their Master, who's a huge fan of her books. But instead of meeting him, she accidentally crosses paths with her rock star crush. He is the sexy muse behind Nightwalkers and the man she based the hero in the series upon. She would do anything to meet him but little does she know her crush has a secret...

  We will try to match your books to your preferences, however, if you’re a major paranormal fan, we suggest you join the Cravings Paranormal Club. Everything is the same except that three of your four books will be paranormal. The remaining book will be of a different genre.

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  Best wishes,

  Beth Walker

  KEEPING FAITH

  Christina Cole

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  Sunset, Colorado

  July 1876

  Awful thing when a man didn’t want to see his own mother.

  Tom Henderson figured he ought to be glad—damned glad—she was coming to Sunset, but all he really felt was a lot of guilt. Or maybe it was shame. Most likely, a good dose of both.

  But how else was he supposed to feel? No point mincing words. Some truths couldn’t be avoided. His mother was a drunk, a whore, and she’d killed a man. Now, she’d arrived on the afternoon stage. She’d be living right there in Sunset, and it would be Tom’s responsibility to look after her. Little wonder he wasn’t exactly thrilled by the prospect.

  “You’re late, damn it.” Charlotte Henderson stood at the stage depot, hands fisted on broad hips. “I swear, you’ve never been on time once in your life.” As her son drew near, her eyes narrowed. “Probably out screwing around to all hours last night, weren’t you?” The summer breeze ruffled her dirty blonde hair. She threw back her head and laughed. “That’s my boy, all right. At least you know how to have a good time, I’ll give you that. Never mind your poor old mother waiting on you.” Before he could stop her, she rushed forward and clasped her arms around his neck. “So, was she a pretty one, Tommy? Or just cheap and easy?”

  “Ma, stop it,” he said, reaching up to disentangle himself from her smothering embrace. “I wasn’t out fooling around.”

  “Why the hell not?” Stepping back, the woman eyed the tall cowboy who stood before her. Her son. Her pride and joy. That’s what she’d called him from the day he’d been born. “Something wrong with you?”

  He ignored the jibe and walked to the platform to retrieve the dusty, battered valise she’d brought with her. “I was up late last night getting things ready for you. I’ve found you a nice little place t
o stay, right outside of town. I think you’ll like it.”

  “I thought I’d be staying with you.”

  “I sleep in a bunkhouse, Ma. It’s no place for a lady.” What in hell was he saying? His mother was anything but a lady, and she’d probably feel right at home in a bunkhouse filled with rowdy ranch hands, but Tom pushed that thought aside. That part of his mother’s life was over and done with. He’d take care of her now, she’d have no need to go around selling herself, and somehow, between the two of them, they’d figure out how to get along, how to be some sort of family.

  “What about my place, Tommy? I want to go home.”

  He shook his head. “Better for you to stay here in town.” The old property where he’d been born and raised was several hours away. If she lived there, he wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on her. Besides, for all he knew, nothing was even left of the place.

  “You’ll come see me, won’t you?”

  Tom heard the doubts in his mother’s voice, and he nodded. “Of course I will.” Although taller than Ma, he had the same light blond hair, the same blue eyes. He bent and kissed her cheek. “Welcome to Sunset.”

  Welcome home is what he’d meant to say, but the words stuck in his throat.

  Charlotte Henderson snorted. “It’s not much of a town.”

  “I think it’s just right. Small. Quiet. The folks around here are decent, respectable people, so keep that in mind.” When looking for a place for his mother to live, he’d deliberately chosen one on the outskirts of town, hoping no one would be disturbed by her presence. “Come on, I’ve got a wagon waiting.”

  The woman didn’t budge. Shielding her eyes from the harsh afternoon sun, she squinted toward the west. She stiffened, then jerked her head at the neat, wood-framed building with its little bell tower and the wooden cross that adorned it.

  “How many damned churches this place got?”

  “Just that one.” Quickly he reached out. Placing a strong hand on her shoulder, he gently, but firmly, turned her to face him again.

  “I don’t care to hear any preaching, you know. I won’t have religion shoved down my throat.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Tom took her by the hand and steered her toward the wagon and away from the church. Although he didn’t know everything about his mother’s life growing up, he was well aware that religion was a sore topic. Her parents had died for their faith, for their convictions and for their determined efforts to spread the gospel back in Kansas during the 1830s. Religion didn’t bring comfort or solace to Charlotte Henderson, only bad memories.

  “What about saloons?” His mother jerked her hand from his. She stopped and glanced around again. “Got to be both good and evil in a town, you know. There ought to be at least one saloon for every house of God. Who’s to say which is the real evil?”

  Tom pushed his hat back on his head and stared down at this woman who’d given him life. The familiar shame knotted in his guts. “Don’t start it, Ma. You’ve done without whiskey for the last three years. No need to start drinking again.”

  If he’d been a praying man, he might have offered up a few words of supplication, but he hadn’t been raised a believer. He’d been taught that a man couldn’t count on divine intervention or heavenly help. Maybe that knowledge made him stronger in some ways. He’d learned to rely on himself, to shoulder his own responsibilities and solve his own problems.

  But damned if he knew what he would do with his mother now. Looking after her wasn’t going to be easy.

  “Mr. Henderson, good afternoon.”

  Tom froze at the sound of the voice. Slowly, he turned. Out of obligation, he tipped his hat as the town’s new minister, Reverend James Gilman, approached with outstretched hand.

  Damn the luck! The last person he wanted coming to greet his mother was a man of the cloth. She’d likely grab the fellow by his stiffly starched clerical collar and shove him face first into the nearest horse trough—which happened to be only a scant few yards away.

  “Come on, Ma,” he said, nudging her in the opposite direction.

  But the minister caught up with them. He placed his hand on Tom’s shoulder. Rumor had it that James Gilman had once been a prize-winning pugilist before he found God and got saved. Maybe so. The man had a grip like a vice.

  “Mr. Henderson, spare me a moment. I’d like to get acquainted with your mother and—”

  Charlotte spun around. Her mouth worked, and out flew a wad of spittle, landing on Gilman’s polished shoes. “Got no use for your kind.” She wiped her chin with the back of her hand.

  “Sir, I’m sorry,” Tom guided his mother away. “I’ll explain. Another time,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Well, yes, you do that.” To his credit, Gilman’s voice remained kind, gentle, and filled with a compassion that Charlotte Henderson didn’t deserve. “My wife and I wanted to invite your mother for dinner one evening, but we can discuss it later. Perhaps we’ll see you and your mother at services on Sunday. If there’s anything we can do to help…”

  “Be a cold day in hell before I set foot in any damned church.” The woman yanked her arm free from her son and climbed up into the wagon. “I don’t need any help from you,” she called out. “I can manage just fine on my own.”

  Tom clenched and unclenched his fists, unsure whether he should go back and offer another apology to Gilman, or if maybe it would be best to just move on and get his mother away before she tried stoning the well-meaning minister.

  Physically, James Gilman reminded Tom of a bulldog. Short, solid, and powerful. But he doubted the man would be any match for his mother’s fury. Best to move on, he decided, swinging up onto the driver’s seat.

  He kept his mouth shut and flicked the reins over the mule’s back, only speaking again after they’d turned the corner and left Gilman and his church in the dust.

  “No call to be rude to the man, Ma. He doesn’t know your story. He was only trying to be sociable.”

  “Sociable?” She let out that familiar bark of a laugh that had haunted Tom’s memory for years. “I’ll be plenty sociable as soon as you find us a good saloon. We’ll have a drink or two to celebrate the occasion.”

  Tom didn’t even turn to look at her. He kept his eyes focused on the long road ahead. “You don’t need a drink. You’ve been sober for three years. No reason to change that now.” Finally he turned and smiled as he reached for her hand. He gave it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s good to see you, Ma. You’re looking more beautiful than ever.”

  Some truth, some untruth.

  It was good to see his mother, good to see her free. In the case of Charlotte Louise Henderson, justice had been served. Convicted of manslaughter, she’d been sent away to the penitentiary. She’d done her time.

  But damn! Why did she have to come to Sunset?

  The answer was simple. She had nowhere else to go.

  Unless he could find Sally.

  As the image of his sweet little sister flickered through his mind, the old ache in his heart began again. If he had it to do over, he damned sure would have taken little Sally with him when he left home.

  She’d run off too, a few weeks later. Probably looking for him, Tom guessed. But she’d never found him, and nobody ever heard from her again. He liked to imagine that Sally had made a good life for herself. She’d be twenty-one now. A grown woman. The thought brought a wistful smile.

  Had she found a good man? Was she married now? Maybe have little ones of her own?

  It would sure do his heart a world of good if he could find little Sally. He’d give a lot to see her again.

  Tom jerked back on the reins, stopped, and looked at Ma. He knew what he had to do.

  This was their chance. A chance to put the past far behind them. A chance to start over. A chance to be a real family.

  He would find Sally and bring her home.

  Tom’s features tightened. He gripped the leather reins and set the wagon in motion again. “I got you a nice little house,” he said as t
hey rolled on down the quiet street. “It’s not big, but that means you won’t have to work too hard to keep it clean.” Memories of the filthy, disgusting cabin where he’d been raised choked off his breath. He could practically taste the thick dust and smell the sour air again. “Now, I know you’re not used to having a lot of folks around, so you can take a day or two to get yourself situated.” He hesitated, unsure how his mother would react to what he was about to say. “Once you’re settled, well, I’ve found work for you. A good job.”

  “A job? Doing what?” Another bark of laughter rang out. “Only one thing I’ve ever known how to do. Only one thing I’ve ever been good at.”

  “Don’t talk like that.” Tom refused to listen to any more talk about the past. Yes, he knew how his mother had supported herself, how she’d supported him and Sally, too. But those days were over and gone. He cast a glance at his mother, remembering how beautiful she’d once been. The years had not been kind. Whoring had wrecked her body, and whiskey had taken its toll. Still, his mother had so much to offer, if only she’d see it. “You’re not ignorant, Ma. You can read, you can write.” Damned shame she’d never seen fit to share that knowledge with Tom and his sister. Neither of them had ever gotten any real education. He fought back the bitterness that crept into his voice. “You’ve got a head for figures, too.”

  “Quite jawing around and spit it out, Tommy.” She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and drew in a breath. “Just what sort of work do you think I can do?”

  “It won’t be hard, Ma. You’ll be helping out at Miss Lucille’s.”