by Stacy Henrie
At last the meeting was over and he led his family outside. He handed Olive off to Ravena and helped everyone into the wagon.
“Everything all right?” she asked as he drove away from the church.
“Sure, why?”
She smiled and nodded at the horses. “You seem in a hurry to get home.”
Realizing she was right, he slowed the team. But the feeling of change grew stronger within him the closer they came to the farm. When he drove into the yard and saw another wagon parked out front of the big house, he wasn’t surprised. He could see a man and woman standing on the porch, though he couldn’t quite make out their faces.
“Who do you think that is?” Ravena shaded her eyes.
Tex shrugged. “Not sure.”
He drove toward the barn and parked the wagon. After helping Ravena and the baby down, he strode toward the front of the house to see who the visitors might be. He made it to the center of the yard as the man rounded the other wagon, giving Tex a clear view of his face.
“Tate?” Tex halted to a stop, more than a little shocked at the sight of his twin brother. It had been more than nine years since he’d last seen him.
Tate stopped as well. “Hello, Tex.”
They stood there watching each other. Tex tried to decipher what Tate was thinking, but he couldn’t read his brother’s expression. Was he still angry at Tex? Or happy to see him?
“We’ve been looking for you,” he said; at the same moment, Tate declared, “We only just found you.” Tex had been trying to locate his brother since last year, but with no results.
Both of them chuckled, easing the tension in the air. “We didn’t know if you were home.” Tate waved toward the porch, where a pretty blonde woman stood smiling.
“We were at church,” Tex said by way of an answer.
The woman’s bright laugh rang out. “I told Tate that’s where I thought you were.”
This time it wasn’t hard for Tex to read his brother’s expression—it was one of pure astonishment. “You were at church?”
“He’s been there every week for the past year.” Ravena came to stand beside Tex, her hand resting on his arm. “It’s good to see you, Tate.”
“You too, Ravena.” Tate darted a glance at the baby in her arms, and a surprisingly soft smile lifted his mouth. “Looks like I’ve missed some things,” he said, looking at Tex again.
There was no anger in those blue eyes identical to Tex’s. No resentment or bitterness. Only cautious hope. And hope was something Tex had a solid understanding of now.
“I reckon we both have a bit of catching up to do.” Tex reached into his pocket, extracted their mother’s earrings and held them out for Tate to see. “Starting with these. I never did sell them, Tate.”
His brother studied the earrings, while everyone seemed to hold a collective breath. Then Tate pulled him in for a tight embrace, heartily clapping him on the back. “It’s real good to see you, Tex.”
“You too, Tate,” Tex whispered over the lump in his throat as he hugged his brother. He and Tate had both come home at last and there was no other place on earth Tex would ever prefer to be than right here.
* * * * *
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Dear Reader,
Some stories are just plain fun to write and others are a labor of love. Tex and Ravena’s story is the latter. I have a soft spot for these two and the trials, choices and changes they experience. It was a journey and a pleasure for me to redeem this outlaw and reunite him with the woman he never stopped loving.
Like Tex and Ravena, I hope readers will know that each one of us is worth saving and loving. No matter our choices, none of us are too far gone to change. We aren’t what we do or don’t do—we are each of unchangeable worth in God’s eyes.
While I don’t name the town where Tex grew up and Ravena lives, in my mind, it is Horseshoe Bend, Idaho, a town in a picturesque valley, located about thirty miles north of Boise.
The first train depot in Boise was located away from the city. For the time frame of my story, I have Ravena going to the train station in town, even though it wasn’t built until the following year, in 1893.
The orphanage in Boise is my creation; however, the Orphan Train really did exist. That program was in operation from 1854 to 1929 and helped place orphaned and homeless children from cities back East in homes in other states. About 250,000 children were relocated, including some in Idaho. However, for the sake of my story, I had orphans leaving Idaho on an Orphan Train to be placed in homes farther west.
I love hearing from readers. You can contact me through my website at www.stacyhenrie.com.
All the best,
Stacy
Keep reading for an excerpt from LONE STAR BRIDE by Jolene Navarro.
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Lone Star Bride
by Jolene Navarro
Chapter One
Blood raced through Sofia De Zavala’s veins as she stepped to the edge of the spacious veranda. The native stone floor kept the area cool in the Texas heat. It was only April, and the sun had already become a relentless rival to the numerous layers of material she wore. Wearing pants would be so much easier.
The sounds of the vaqueros and American cowboys filled the area near the horse barns.
Ignoring her father’s orders, she planned on going to the stables today. Rumors of a new stallion that had come all the way from Ireland were impossible to ignore.
“Señorita Sofia, wait!” Her mother’s maid ran after her. “I have your bonnet and gloves.”
Not wanting to upset the older woman, she bit back a sigh. “I left them behind on purpose.” Rosita went ahead with her mission and started pulling the long white gloves onto Sofia’s hands. “These will be ruined.”
“Your mother never allowed you to leave the house without them.” The large overly decorated bonnet went on next. Tears hovered on the edges of the maid’s russet eyes. “I can’t believe they are gone.”
“I know.” She still expected to hear her mother’s voice in the house. A voice that she took for granted and now dearly missed. “We all miss her, but I can’t see as
well with the bonnet on. It completely blocks my side view.” What she wanted was a flat wide-brimmed hat like the men wore. If it wouldn’t upset her father so much, she’d go get one of her brother’s hats.
Her father still refused to talk about their loss, and Rosita cried at the mention of her mother. There was no place for her own grief to be shared.
Head high, more so in order to see in front of her than pride, Sofia hurried to the pens.
There were more people than she had ever seen at the corrals. Many of the women who lived on the ranch stood on the railing, watching the activity that stirred the dust. She loved being around the horses and had missed them.
On most of the ranches she had visited with her father, there were women working alongside the vaqueros, but her mother had believed that women belonged in the home. So, on their ranch, the men worked the livestock, and the women stayed inside.
This was her chance to change that for the De Zavala ranch and her people.
Her gloves immediately lost their whiteness when she grabbed the top of the wood fence and stepped up.
As she looked over the railing, she felt as if her heart and lungs stopped working. The most magnificent animal she had ever seen loped on the opposite side of the corral. Tucking his tail, he stopped and turned in one quick motion.
The glossy black coat lay over sculpted muscles. Long solid legs covered the ground in fluid motion. The stallion tossed his head, sending his mane flying in the breeze.
She was in love. “He’s gorgeous.”
Maria, Rosita’s granddaughter, leaned in close to her. “They say he’s from Kentucky.” The younger woman sighed. “I’ve never seen anything like him.”
“Kentucky? I thought he was from Ireland.” Maria had never shown an interest in horses before. Frowning, Sofia turned her head to get a better look at the man working the horse. Oh, my.
He stood a head above any of her father’s men. Booted feet planted in a wide stance, he held his right arm out, commanding the horse without a lunge line or whip.
It was more than just his height that made it obvious he was not one of her father’s men. Without a hat, his hair was tousled. Streaks of wheat ran through his sandy-brown locks. She had never been so fascinated by a man’s hairstyle or color.
Now she understood why all the females loitered around the horse pen. Not many visitors made it out to the ranch, and never men of this caliber.
The clothes he wore didn’t help, either. No baggy trousers or loose shirt like many of her father’s workers. He wore a black fitted vest over a white button-up that showed off a trim middle and long legs. Not a sound came from his mouth as he communicated with the horse.
How was he getting the stallion to move the way he wanted? Narrowing her gaze, Sofia focused on the man’s movements. The man slightly flicked his fingers, and the horse stopped and spun to face him.
Head lowered, the big black beast walked forward and set his forelock against the man’s broad chest. Nimble fingers rubbed the big jaw. All the women sighed as one.
Sofia glanced at the men surrounding the corral, many of them sitting on the top rail. Admiration was visible on the faces of the vaqueros, people she considered the best horsemen in the world.
A hand clasped on her shoulder. “Mija, what are you doing? It’s too hot and dusty out here for you.”
Her father’s quiet voice startled her from the sight of horse and man. “Papi, I wanted to see the new horse. I hear he’s from Ireland. Why didn’t you tell me about him?” She glanced back to the cowboy.
“There is nothing to tell. It’s business between Jackson McCreed and myself.”
“But I love these horses. You allowed me to ride all over the ra—”
“That was years ago. Now you have house responsibilities and should be preparing for your marriage.”
It was as though a mule had delivered a kick to her gut, almost had her doubling over. Marriage?
“I thought with the new Texas Republic, our contracts with Mexico were canceled?” This couldn’t be happening. She had escaped the arrangement her mother set up. Her dreams had nothing to do with being the perfect wife.
“Yes, we have severed our ties to the old country, but to secure our future and legacy, we need connections to the new government. We could still lose our land grants.” His jaw flexed as he looked over his people who had gathered to watch the new stallion.
“There are many political issues that need to be settled, and I want to ensure our ownership of the land is not questioned.”
“But you stayed loyal to Texas. You provided horses and supplies to our fight for independence.” Her father had stood by their new neighbors against the unfairness of Santa Anna.
“When it comes to greed, you can’t count on fairness.” His ebony eyes cut back to her. “You’re no longer a child. Your mother wanted you settled in society with a family of your own. I will ensure her wishes become reality. By the end of the year, you will have a husband. A husband who can anchor our legacy in the new republic.”
“Papi! I can—”
“Maria, take Sofia to the house. Go now. There is no business out here for you.” He turned his back to her. Dismissing her and her wishes. She watched as he joined the cowboy with the magnificent stallion. They led the horse back into the stables where she wouldn’t be able to see him.
A tug of her hand caught her attention. “Señorita, we must go to the house as your father ordered.” The younger girl looked around Sofia. “My abuela says he’s trouble, but he might be worth a little trouble.”
Sofia nodded. “The best horses are.”
Maria giggled. “You are not a normal girl, señorita.” She started walking toward the hacienda. “I was speaking of the man. All the women are talking of him. Wondering if he will be staying. What have you heard?”
“Nothing.” Her father no longer talked to her as a partner. Following Maria, Sofia started making plans.
Sometimes a little trouble was needed to achieve a goal. Why would God give her a talent and desire to work with horses if she was just meant to live in town taking care of a home for some man she didn’t even know? “I don’t know anything. Father no longer talks to me about the ranch.”
Eyes sad, Maria nodded. “He feels the heavy burden of taking care of you and all the people who have remained on the ranch. With your mother and brother gone, he has much to worry about.”
“You’re right. We need to help him ease the burden.” The cooler air under the veranda calmed Sofia a bit. Getting angry and arguing wouldn’t convince her father of anything. He was too stubborn. She had been accused of being much like her father once too often for her to ignore.
Arguing would not get her anywhere. Her mother taught her that. She needed to show him how she could help.
Once alone, she made her way to the small crawl space upstairs, where the old trunks were stored. Dust and blankets covered everything. Digging through the piles, she found what she needed in the bottom of an old cedar chest—the clothes her brother had outgrown years before.
She ran her hand over the worn clothes. So many memories flooded her. Images of wonderful days with no worries, running free with the vaqueros and learning their skills. They grew up riding all over the ranch side by side. She could shoot a gun and hit a target, and lasso a steer faster and with more accuracy than her brother.
He would tease her and tell her she should have been born a boy. With a smirk, she would tell him she was too smart to be a boy.
She buried her face in a shirt and cried. She had lost her best friend, and no one would let her talk about it.
Wiping her face, she pulled out a pair of his riding boots. These would give her the freedom she needed. She was going to ride out to the cattle camp. If Santiago was there, he would encourage her, join her even.
With the
right attire, she was one step closer to proving that she was just as capable as Santiago had been. Her brother’s laughter rang in her heart. He would be the first one to point out that she was better with horses.
Tonight, the full moon would provide enough light. She was going to ride her father’s new stallion.
Her mother had banned her from the stable a year ago, but tonight she was going to run free. Her blood was already racing. Yes, on the ranch, on the back of that great horse, that was where she belonged.
Her father needed riders for the drive to New Orleans. If she went to the camp and gathered and branded the cattle her father would see how much she could help. After hiding the new clothes and hat in her room, she headed to the kitchen.
It was hard to remain composed. She wanted to jump and laugh already. She could ride and rope with the best of the vaqueros, the same men who had taught her everything she knew. She would finally be putting those skills to the real test.
Now to keep busy until everyone went to bed. It was time to take her life into her own hands. She refused to be trapped in a marriage with a stranger who might not even love the land.
Glancing out the window, Sofia studied the sky. It would be hours until the moon was out. Then that black giant would be hers.
She was tired of waiting for life to happen. Tonight would be the first step in claiming her destiny.
* * *
Jackson McCreed sat up in his narrow bed, breathing hard. Goose bumps tightened his skin. A clammy sweat covered his body. One fast movement and his stocking feet touched the dirt-packed floor. The air hung heavy on his shoulders.