CHARMED Boxed Set 1, Hero Hearts Historical: Inspirational Western Romance

by Cambridge, Kate

  Mary rolled her eyes at his threat but picked up her fork, moving the eggs to the other side of the plate before setting her fork down again. “There’s something I need to tell you… “

  Jim’s eyes jumped back to Mary’s and he lowered his fork to his plate waiting for her to continue.

  “I received a telegram two days ago …,” she began.

  Jim nodded and waited patiently.

  “It was from Mike’s family.” Mary closed her eyes, fighting to find the strength to continue without crying. “They want me to relinquish the farm to them—no they are demanding that I relinquish it,” she said, resentment dripping in her voice.

  Jim opened his mouth, but then closed it. Quiet stretched between them before he reached across the table to take her hand.

  Mary’s eyes glossed over with unshed tears but she willed them away. She clung to Jim’s hand before continuing, her voice husky, her eyes on the table. “They are claiming that the land rightfully belongs to their family in light of the fact that it is Mike’s name on the deed, and I am a woman.” She looked across the table at Jim. “They want an answer within a fortnight or they will take legal action.”

  Mary pulled a shaky breath into her lungs, and closed her eyelids against the tears rising unbidden, burning her eyes as she brushed away the single tear that escaped before it made its way to her chin.

  Jim squeezed her hand. “What are you going to do?”

  She looked at him fondly. Her brother was never one to add stress to any situation, but always level headed and calm. She needed that right now more than ever.

  “I’m not sure—I need to consult a lawyer. Although the law is always on the side of men, the West is more progressive, and I’m hopeful a local attorney can advise if there’s any hope for me to fight this.”

  “Are you sure you want to?”

  “Are you kidding? How can you even ask me that? You know how I’ve fought to keep this farm running.”

  Jim nodded. “I’m proud of you, sis, and you’re one of the strongest women I know. I’ll support you in whatever you decide.”

  “There’s no question, Jim. I’m going to fight for this farm. It’s what Mike wanted, and I can’t let our dream die.”

  Jim grasped her hand with both of his, and Mary caught a flicker of something in his eyes before he glanced down at the table and then back into her eyes. “I love you, sis. I’m going to head out to the barn to begin chores.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “Eat your breakfast. All of it,” he scolded before turning to walk out the door.

  Mary cocked her head at her brother’s retreating back. Did he think she should let the farm go? Did he want to go back to Philadelphia? Was it wrong of her to fight for the farm? Should she relinquish it and simply return to Philadelphia or even pursue a full-time teaching position at the orphanage that originally brought her to Bareglen Creek?

  No, she couldn’t even entertain giving up the farm. She would fight for it. It was all she had left of Mike, and she simply could not let him down, even if she had to go against his family.

  Chapter 4

  Lee Jamison’s Parent’s Home | Philadelphia, PA

  "How is the rest of your family? I can only imagine how difficult it must be since Mike’s passing.” Susan Jamison asked Eloise Trost with what she hoped was the appropriate amount of sympathy on her face.

  “It has been difficult,” Eloise admitted. “As you know we were immensely disappointed when Mike decided to leave Philadelphia to follow Mary on her charitable endeavor to work at the orphanage, but then losing him because of a flu epidemic was—well it was devastating. To be honest, I still haven’t forgiven her.”

  Susan made the appropriate gesture. “Yes, I’m so sorry, Eloise,” she murmured while patting her friend’s hand.

  Although they were the only two people in the drawing room, Eloise leaned closer to Susan and lowered her voice. “Please don’t repeat this, but Marcus had Mary Hawarden Trost,” she added at the last moment, her voice dripping with venom, "served via telegram with notice that we’re demanding that she relinquish the farm to us.”

  “Really?” Susan struggled to keep the surprise out of her voice. “I thought you and Marcus wanted nothing to do with Mike’s decision to head to Bareglen Creek to start a farm with Mary.”

  “Yes, well, we’ve had time to think about it and it’s not right for that woman to have the farm that legally belonged to Mike. Legally, it should belong to us now that he’s gone.”

  The last thing Susan wanted was for Mary Hawarden Trost to return to Philadelphia in light of her son Lee’s interest in her. If the Trost family took the farm away from Mary, that’s exactly what she would do. How could she get more information out of Eloise?

  “And Gerald, how is he handling the loss of his brother?”

  “As well as can be expected. We’ve been hopeful he would find a wife and settle down, but he simply hasn’t found the right one yet.”

  A plan began to formulate in Susan’s mind. “Yes, well, finding a wife isn’t as easy as it once was what with the Suffragette movement putting silly notions in women’s minds,” Susan offered. “Do you think Mary will give up the farm? From what I’ve heard she’s quite determined to keep it running.”

  “Although the Hawarden family is well to do, so are we.” Eloise’s eyes narrowed. “But I don’t think it will come to that,” Eloise admitted with a smirk.

  Susan gasped as the reality of the situation dawned. “The Hawarden’s won’t help Mary fight it because Mary’s mother wants her back in Philadelphia.” Susan’s eyes flew to Eloise.

  “Exactly.” A smug smile spread across her friend’s face.

  “So you plan to sell the farm after it’s turned over to you? Don’t you think Mary will realize that?”

  “Even if she does, there isn’t a judge that will rule in her favor over ours.”

  Susan took Eloise’s hand in hers. “Did you read the paper yesterday? The article about the laws that are changing in the West?”

  “What laws?” Eloise asked.

  “Because of the Suffragette Movement, there are some states in the West that are siding to allow women to own land and businesses.” She let her sentence hang, hoping Eloise would panic.

  “That’s preposterous! How can they?”

  “They are desperate to attract more people out West, and one way to do that is to give women more rights. Rights that only men and our husbands have held up until now.” Susan watched her friend’s face, waiting for her surprise to move to anger and then uncertainty.

  “Oh my.” Eloise wrung her hands.

  “Do you have other options?”

  “What do you mean other options?” Eloise knew that Susan was a very bright woman. Could it be that she saw an alternative?

  “Well,” it was Susan’s turn to lean in closely to Eloise. “What if you gave Mary an option?”

  “Why would we want to do that?”

  “The way I see it, Gerald needs a wife, isn’t that right?”

  Eloise’s brow creased. “Yes,” she nodded reluctantly.

  “What if you gave Mary the option to keep the farm if she agreed to marry Mike’s brother…?”

  “Why would we do that?” Eloise scoffed. “I don’t want to lose both of my sons to that woman or that Godforsaken place!”

  “Hm. Perfectly understandable,” Susan agreed. “However, once married, what’s to keep Gerald from deciding that he wants to sell the farm and move back to Philadelphia with Mary as his wife?”

  Eloise’s mouth dropped agape. She closed her mouth, thought on it, and then smiled.

  “You’re brilliant, Susan! Yes, that might just work.”

  Chapter 5

  Mary | Bareglen Creek, TX

  Mary rummaged through the aisles of the mercantile looking for a piece of fabric with which to repair Jim’s britches. “Darn you, Colossal,” she whispered under her breath, “we’ll need to file down your horns if you keep snagging our clothing with them. Silly
Longhorn,” she muttered.

  “Mary, is that you?”

  “Magdalena!” Mary turned in the direction of her friend’s voice just in time to open her arms for her enthusiastic hug.

  Magdalena pulled back and narrowed her eyes at Mary. “You look terrible.”

  Mary’s eyes widened in surprise. “Thanks, Mags, just what every woman wants to hear.”

  “No, really,” Magdalena huffed. “Are you okay?”

  Mary narrowed her eyes at her friend and hissed. “Yes, I’m fine, and don’t you dare mention what you just asked me to your husband or breathe a word to him—I don’t need him on my case.”

  Mags chucked despite herself. “Welcome to my world,” she admitted, grinning when she managed to get a smile out of her friend.

  “Yes, well, you chose that world, my friend. Speaking of, how is married life to the good but bossy doctor treating you?”

  Mags blushed. “It’s wonderful,” she admitted, “although a full-time dose of the bossy doctor can be a bit overwhelming at times.”

  “It’s not like you didn’t know what you were getting into,” Mary chided, “but it is wonderful to see you so happy.”

  It was impossible to miss the sadness that briefly crossed Mary’s face. “Finish your purchases and then join me for tea at our house,” Magdalena’s smile lit the room.

  “Are you kidding? After your reaction, there’s no way I’m going anywhere near your house—or your doctor husband,” Mary argued.

  Mags laughed. “Let’s compromise. Meet me at the bench outside, okay?” Magdalena implored her friend, worry creasing her brow.

  “Okay,” Mary agreed. "I won’t be but a minute.”

  Magdalena turned toward Mr. Guthrie, the proprietor of the store. “Mr. Guthrie, Lance said you ordered two items for him. Are they in?”

  “They are, Mrs. Holloway. I have them in the backroom.”

  Mary made her way to the front counter after Magdalena had received and paid for her items. “I’ll be right outside,” she said.

  “I’ll be right there,” Mary confirmed, putting her items on the counter, asking Mr. Guthrie to put it on her tab.

  Mary no sooner joined Mags on the bench then the U.S. Postal attendant, Jethro Carver, called her name from across the street. “Mary! I have a telegram for you. I was just about to bring it out to the farm.”

  Mary groaned and ignored a sideways glance from her friend.

  “I’ll take it, Mr. Carver, thank you.”

  “No problem, young lady, you just saved me a trip,” he assured her as Mary stood to accept the telegram. He took a close look at Mary. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” Mary answered more curtly than she intended.

  Mary waited for Mr. Carver to leave, and then opened the telegram. At her gasp, Magdalena rose to stand beside her friend.

  “What’s wrong, Mary?” She asked, right before her friend crumbled to the ground, hitting her head with a CRACK on the way down.

  Mags dropped to her knees beside her friend. “Mary, Mary!” She grasped her friends face between her hands, but Mary didn’t respond. Magdalena looked up and down the street then yelled to the man closest to her. “Go get Dr. Holloway, and hurry!”

  She picked up the telegram Mary had dropped and added it to her small bag of purchases. Then she yelled to the store owner. “Mr. Guthrie, I need your help! Can you bring me a cold cloth?”

  Mr. Guthrie popped his head around the door jam. “Oh my! Yes, straight away, Mrs. Holloway.”

  “Mary, stay with me,” Mags implored as a small group gathered around them. When the Sheriff joined them, he dropped to his knee beside Mary and Magdalena.

  “What happened?”

  “Oh, Sheriff Sully, I’m not sure. Mary got a telegram and she fainted after reading it.”

  “Has anyone called for Lance?” He asked.

  “Yes, I sent a man after him a minute ago.”

  “I’ll let Claire know and then ride to the farm to get Jim,” the Sheriff said, rising quickly. “Okay, everyone. Disperse and let’s give Mrs. Trost some breathing room here.”

  The crowd backed away.

  “Yes, that’s a good idea, thank you, Sheriff,” Magdalena murmured just as her husband arrived.

  “Sully. Magdalena?” He looked at his wife with surprise.

  “Mary passed out, Lance, and she hit her head on the bench on the way down. I can’t get her to wake up.” Magdalena’s voice shook and her face filled with worry.

  “Sheriff, help me get her to my office.”

  Together the two men cradled Mary between them while Magdalena gathered their bags and followed quickly after them.

  Chapter 6

  Lee’s Parent’s Home | Philadelphia, PA

  “Mother, how many times do I need to tell you that I have no interest in the women you seem intent upon trying to set me up with?” Lee Jamison confronted his mother.

  “Lee, you’re being difficult. There’s nothing wrong with entertaining some of the most beautiful and eligible women in Philadelphia to join us for dinner. You’re not going to find a wife by teaching classes at the University and working on your research for countless hours every day.” Susan Jamison scolded.

  “Mother, I will refuse future invitations from you if you continue to ignore my direct and clear wishes.”

  “You’re still my son, Lee, and I expect you to treat me with respect. What’s the harm in humoring your mother once in a while?”

  “The harm is that you’re trying to force me into something that I’m not comfortable with, that I don’t want, and ultimately it is unfair to the women you invite to join us. I’m not interested, and I can choose my own wife.”

  “Susan!” Lee’s father spoke sternly to his wife as he entered the dining room. “You told me that Lee was aware you had invited Alice Beckett to join us for dinner.”

  Susan’s cheeks reddened. “Yes, well, I intended to do just that. Now, if the two of you would retire to the parlor, I have a dinner to oversee.”

  Lee didn’t budge.

  His father sighed. “Come with me, son. I’ll see to your mother later,” he promised.

  Lee’s mother had the decency to act chagrined before turning back to the kitchen.

  “Father, this has to stop,” Lee insisted as he joined his father in the parlor.

  “Yes, I agree. She’s meddling too much, but surely you understand she has your best interests at heart.”

  “She has someone’s interests at heart, but they are not mine, Father.”

  His father chuckled. “You may be right about that, son. I will speak with her after this evening has ended.”

  “Thank you, Father. I have a break from the University for the next two weeks, and the last thing I want to consume my time is mother’s matchmaking efforts.”

  “Don’t be too hard on her, Lee. She loves you and only wants what’s best for you.”

  No sooner had Lee sat down in the chair across from his father than a knock came at the front door.

  “Lee, will you get that?” His mother called from the dining room adjacent to the parlor.

  “No, mother, I won’t. This is your doing,” he answered back.

  She gave Lee a scathing look on her way past the parlor to the front door.

  * * *

  “So, Doctor Jamison, I’ve heard great things about the research you are contributing to at the Institute.”

  “Really, what have you heard, Miss Beckett?”

  “One of my professors at Bryn Mawr referenced a paper that you had written recently on grieving and depression, I believe.”

  “Bryn Mawr? What do you hope to accomplish with your education?” he asked, studying her intently, an idea suddenly formed in his mind.

  “I plan to continue my studies in the new graduate school,” she announced with pride as she smiled at his parents.

  “Really? And then?”

  “Lee, let Miss Beckett enjoy her dinner and then we can settl
e for conversation in the parlor,” his mother admonished.

  Lee kept his eyes fixed on Alice.

  Her eyes flickered to his, then down to her plate and back again. “Truthfully, I haven’t decided yet. That will depend on a few things,” she offered suggestively.

  “What’s the point in education without a clear goal?” He challenged.

  “Lee!” His mother chided with an apologetic smile toward Miss Beckett, but Lee did not back down.

  “Well… well,” Alice licked her lips, “I think education is important for men and women alike. I’m quite certain my education will be of benefit.”

  “I see.”

  Miss Beckett tossed her head. “You see, do you, doctor? What is that supposed to mean?”

  His eyes locked with hers. “Did that upset you? Do you think there is a secondary meaning?” He asked.

  Miss Beckett’s neck flushed red, spreading all the way to her cheeks. “I apologize if I sounded upset, Doctor Jamison, I’m merely trying to understand your perspective.”

  “My perspective is irrelevant, Miss Beckett, I’m merely trying to understand yours.”

  When a knock sounded at the door, all heads turned toward the sound. “I’ll get it,” Lee offered, pushing his chair back from the table. “Excuse me.”

  After a minute passed his mother called out, “Lee, who is at the door?”

  Lee entered the doorway to the dining room with a telegram in his hand. “It’s a telegram for me. I must head to Bareglen Creek immediately.”

  “Surely you don’t…” his mother interrupted.

  “I must,” he assured her. “Miss Beckett, it was a pleasure to meet you.” He nodded his head in her direction, then looked at his mother and father. “I can catch the train that leaves in an hour. I’ll be in touch.”