When they pulled into the driveway of his mother’s house, Mitch felt his stomach tighten. He and Emily had read most of the letters she wrote asking for forgiveness and declaring how much she missed him and wanted him to live with her all those years that he thought she didn’t care. More important to Mitch than any of those things was the letter that she wrote to him after she had accepted Jesus.
Mitch stood on the wrap-around porch of his mother’s house, admiring the white, wicker furniture and the hanging planters filled with flowers and ferns. At the far end of the porch at the corner, hung a white, wooden porch swing with cushions that matched the ones on the wicker chairs. He knocked on the screen door that was decorated with wooden scrollwork at the corners. An older man came to the door. He was neatly dressed, with his greying hair short on the sides and neatly combed on top. Immediately, Mitch recognized him as Dr. Gillman, the Vet who makes his rounds at the dairy farm.
Dr. Gillman smiled and held the screen door open. Mitch stepped inside, and turned to him.
“Dr. Gillman. What are you doing here?”
“I’m married to your mother. But I had no idea you were the same Mitch as her son. If I’d put two-and-two together sooner, I could have brought you and your mother together three years ago.”
Mitch patted the older man’s shoulder. “It isn’t your fault. We hadn’t really worked together before a couple of weeks ago. And it’s not like I told you anything about myself other than my first name. We didn’t know anything about each other that wasn’t work-related.”
Dr. Gillman nodded in agreement. “I suppose you’re right. I do have one question, though. Why is Miss Emily here with you?”
The two men shook hands. “Emily is my fiancé.”
“It’s a pleasure to hear such good news. Please come in. Madeline—I mean, your mother, is out on the patio with Julie.”
Mitch tried to calm his thoughts as he followed Dr. Gillman through his mother’s house. Was there something in his mother’s letters that he had missed? Since he hadn’t been able to read them all, he assumed she must have written something in the last few years about him. Mitch stood at the patio door, unable to move. His eyes focused on a woman with light brown, shoulder-length hair and blue eyes—like his own. The young woman next to her had long, curly brown hair and the same sparkling blue eyes as the older woman. They both jumped to their feet and came toward him as he stepped out onto the patio. Tears welled up in the eyes of all three as they reached for one another. They held each other for several minutes, crying and laughing at the same time. Emily stood by with tears in her eyes as she watched Mitch hold his mother and sister.
Mitch gained his composure and stood back.
“Mother, Julie, I want you to meet Emily. She has agreed to be my wife!”
“It’s so very nice to meet you, Emily. I’m Madeline.”
Madeline turned to her son and smiled. “I’m so proud of you. I wish I could have been there for you during your struggle. I’m sorry for leaving you behind.”
“I’m the one who should be sorry for not going with you.” He smiled at his mother and sister through his tears. “I love you both so much and I’m happy to be here with you now. Let’s not talk of regrets—let’s move past that and pick up where we left off. I’m so happy that I have a family again, when I thought I didn’t have one.”
Glen excused himself to get lemonade for everyone. When he closed the patio door, Mitch flashed his mother a questioning look.
“I wrote to you about Glen. He’s been my husband for the last nine years. He helped me fix up this old house—you should have seen it when I moved in—it was very run-down. I got a job at his office as a secretary and we soon started dating—he’s a Veterinarian…”
Mitch couldn’t help but interrupt. “I already know Glen as Dr. Gillman from the dairy farm. We just now put it together. He seems like a very nice man.”
“I’m very happy with him.”
Mitch looked beyond her, noticing the rest of the property, which housed a barn with an attached coral. At the far end of the white, railed fence, he set his eyes on a horse that held the same markings as his horse, Spitfire.
His mother cupped her arm in Mitch’s and they began to walk toward the horses. “Your father sold his horses to a man who auctions them off. When Glen and I were still dating, we happened upon this horse auction and there was Spitfire waiting to be sold. I bid on him, not sure if I could afford him, but Glen offered to help, with the promise that I would work overtime to pay for him. We ended up getting married soon after so it didn’t matter, but I bought him hoping you would come to live with me and re-claim him. I’m afraid he’s old now, but he still has some fire left in him. The horse in the pen with him is his offspring. We bred him a few years ago so you would have a horse to come home to someday. I always hoped we’d be together again as a family.”
Mitch stopped and looked at the aging woman, fresh tears filling his eyes. “I can’t believe you did this for me after I turned my back on you.”
“You were just a confused child, Mitch. I didn’t blame you for not wanting to change schools, but I hoped that you would change your mind. The more time that passed and the fact that you never wrote back to me made me lose hope.”
“My father didn’t give me your letters until two weeks ago.”
“I’m so sorry, Mitch.” She smiled at him. “Go see your horse.”
He ran from her, his focus on Spitfire.
****
After a long afternoon of talk and laughter, Mitch was sad to leave. His mother, Glen and Julie made plans to come to the dairy to have dinner with him and Emily. On the ride home, Mitch and Emily discussed the plans for their up-coming wedding. With less than four weeks to plan, there were a lot of details yet to work through. Madeline and Julie would be helping Emily, but she still felt eager to do most of it herself.
“I wish my father could be there to walk me down the aisle. Maybe if he’d known that we were going to get married, he’d have held on a little while longer,” Emily said sadly.
Mitch smiled. “He knew. That day the two of us took a ride down to the creek—he gave me his blessing. He knew I wanted to marry you, and he wanted me to marry you—he wanted you to be happy.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this back then?”
“I wasn’t a free man—I couldn’t ask you to marry me then. I didn’t even know if you loved me.”
“You’re right, Mitch. I should have told you sooner, but I was afraid.”
“Your timing wasn’t off; mine was. If you had told me sooner, I may have acted in haste, which would have been unfair to you. Your father was happy because you were happy and that’s all that counts.”
“Maybe Dr. Gillman—I mean Glen—wouldn’t mind filling in for my father.”
Mitch smiled. “That’s a perfect idea. I’m sure he would be honored to step in for him.”
Emily hugged him. “Will you be inviting your father?”
“Of course I will, but I don’t hold too much hope that he’ll show up.”
Emily smiled at him. “Oh ye of little faith!”
****
As Mitch took his place at the altar of the same church that Emily’s parents were married in, he smiled at the friends and family members that had come to share his and Emily’s wedding day. His mother and Glen were escorted to the front row along with his sister, Julie. A few of his college buddies were there with their families, as were Martha and Henry. On the bride’s side were Susan and her family, Gabe and a few other employees. In the front row were Emily’s grandparents that Mitch had met a week prior.
Mitch smiled as the wedding march began, for he knew he was about to see Emily as his bride—his long-awaited prize. Before the doors at the back of the church swung open, he noticed his father in the back row, smiling.
He had come after all.
**PLEASE turn to the next page for a sneak peek (2 chapters!) of my first Historical/Christian Romance:
A She
riff’s Legacy:
WANTED: DEAD or ALIVE
Book One
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CHAPTER ONE
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May, 1885
Tombstone, Arizona
Wells Fargo stage robbed. Stop. Outlaws unaccounted for. Stop. Clayton Fisher gunned down. Stop. Critical condition. Stop.
Marshall Tucker.
Logan Fisher held the telegraph in his trembling fist as he exited the train onto the platform near Tombstone, Arizona. Although he’d said a quick prayer for his estranged father’s recovery, he was still reluctant to go to the dying man’s bedside. To be honest, he couldn’t even be certain which side of the law his Pa had fallen on, and he was more interested in hunting down the outlaws than seeing his Pa again. He hadn’t seen the man for over fifteen years after he’d been dropped at the doorstep of his Aunt Mirabelle and Uncle William just after his Ma had died from a rattlesnake bite.
Pa had blamed him.
He’d even blamed himself.
The only one that hadn’t blamed him was Ma.
She’d been bitten out on the prairie where she went searching for him that stormy afternoon in June. Pa had warned him time and again to stay away from the small cave etched into the rocky cliffs that bordered their spread of land, but he’d only ducked inside when the storm began to stir up into a thick veil of dust that shielded the distance between him and the ranch.
When he heard Ma’s cry straining against the dust storm, his emotions flared. He was twelve years old, and didn’t want to be followed like a small child. But Ma knew him too well. She knew exactly where to find him, and now she was in distress from the storm. When he reached the mouth of the cave, he spotted her petite frame lying on the ground some distance from him.
Pulling up his kerchief from around his neck to cover his mouth and nose, he stretched his spindly legs toward her. As he came upon her, that’s when he saw the snake. It reared its head only for a moment before slithering away.
Logan knelt at his Ma’s side looking for the bite. Blood stained the dust-covered bloomers that modestly disguised her calves.
Then he saw the bite marks.
Both of them.
Logan reached for the pocket knife that Pa had given him for his twelfth birthday and scored both bites. After sucking the venom from the wounds and spitting it on the ground, he lifted his canteen to his mouth to rinse the venom from his lips, and then offered a drink to his weak mother.
She looked up at him; her hazel eyes had gone dark.
“I love you, son.”
He grabbed her limp hand in his. “I’m so sorry Ma. I’ll never disobey you again. I promise. Please don’t die!”
Her eyes fluttered. “It’s not your fault, Logan. You’re a good boy. Just promise me you’ll take care of your Pa.”
“I will, Ma. But you promise me you won’t die.”
“I promise.”
Her eyes closed and her breathing was shallow. She didn’t even cough against the dust swirling around her cheeks. Logan pulled his kerchief from around his neck and covered his Ma’s face against the dust whirling around.
Knowing the doc’s cabin was just on the other side of the rocky ridge; he judged the distance to be shorter than that of his own cabin. He hoisted his Ma’s thin frame into a sitting position and cupped his arms under her armpits and began to drag her backward in the loose clay toward the doc’s cabin. Each laboring step filled his lungs with more dust, but he didn’t stop to cough; he knew his Ma was failing fast.
When the cabin came into view, he began hollering for the doc, his mouth filling with dust. His eyes were dry and his lashes were coated with the same clay dust that nearly covered his Ma’s body. Just when he thought he couldn’t pull her another foot, the doc was at his side. The older man flung his Ma over his shoulder like a sack of feed and took her into his cabin.
Logan ran to get his Pa, leaving his Ma with the doc. When he found his Pa in the barn, he told him the story in between coughs. He’d never forget the look in his Pa’s eyes when he pulled the horse whip from the tack room and tanned his hide before riding off toward the doc’s cabin. Logan ignored the pain of his backside as he flung himself bareback over one of the geldings and rode the reluctant horse through the calming storm. When he arrived at the doc’s cabin, his Pa refused to let him see his Ma.
She died two hours later.
****
Clayton Fisher hadn’t spoken one word to his son since his wife’s death. After her burial, Clayton took his son and all of his belongings to the train station and boarded him for Texas. He’d wired ahead to his sister Mirabelle and her husband, William, who would be waiting at the other side for Logan. Over the years, his Pa sent word of his whereabouts and always included several paper notes to cover the cost of his room and board. But there was never a personal word from father to son. Logan became bitter until his aunt and uncle slowly broke through the rigid barrier with scripture and regular church-going.
His aunt and uncle had become like parents to him. Logan had tried to help his uncle keep their small cattle ranch from falling on hard times, but it was a failing ranch when he’d arrived. Though they were unable to turn a profit after the first year he’d began boarding with them, they were able to keep food on the table with the few head of cattle they managed.
When Logan turned seventeen, the fever claimed his Aunt Belle and Uncle Will. After laying them to rest, he joined a band of cowboys who made their living as bounty hunters. He roamed the countryside with the posse tracking wanted men for a profit. He grew up on the open range, though he’d become a man at the age of twelve the day his Ma died.
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CHAPTER TWO
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After fetching his horse, Buckeye, from the ventilated stock cars at the rear of the train, Logan pointed the already tired horse toward Tombstone, and settled in for the long ride to the mining town where his Pa waited for him. First stop in town would be the livery to board his horse for at least a day, since the gelding would be tired from the long train ride and travel on foot to Tombstone.
The terrain was tough, with an abundance of deep ruts from wagon wheels jutting along the stretch of open land that isolated the mining town from the rest of civilization.
As the town came into view, Logan could see that it was bustling with activity. Even at a distance he could hear the noises of the busy town. He steered Buckeye down the main stretch of Allen Street, noting the shops and businesses, restaurants, and over-abundance of saloons. The boardwalk was filled with people of several races; miners, prospectors and wealthy town-folk mingled along the rowdy street going about their business as though they were in a hurry.
Logan hopped off of Buckeye in front of the OK Corral Feed & Livery Stable, and led the horse to a watering trough before entering the livery. The sign boasted ownership established by John Montgomery in 1881, and offered a number of services for horses and other livestock.
A tall, burly man greeted him with a handshake.
“What can I do for ya?”
“I could use a fresh horse, and board for mine for at least a day so he can rest from the long trip from Texas.”
The livery owner accepted the silver pieces from Logan without question. But after signing his name in the ledger, the burly man gave him a once-over and tipped his hat respectfully.
“You here to see the Marshall?”
Logan nodded, hoping to avoid revealing his business to the stranger.
“You must be Clayton’s boy. You look like him.”
Assuming the man would not have addressed his Pa by his given name if he was an outlaw, he let his guard down a little. “Yes Sir, I am. Do you know where I can find him?”
The older man pointed to the opposite end of the boardwalk. “Doc’s office is above the Crystal Palace at the corner of Fifth Street, on the second floor. But they’re guarding Clay just outside of town past the fire hous
e on Toughnut Street—near the mine. If you take Fifth Street south, it’ll get you there.”
Logan’s heart skipped a beat. Maybe he was an outlaw after all. “Guarding him?”
“Of course, you’ll have to stop by the Marshall’s office first so Sheriff Daniels can escort you out there. You’ll find the Marshall’s office next to the doc.”
Logan refrained from asking the man anymore questions, feeling unsure about what the answers might be. Instead, he took the man up on his offer of a fresh mount.
After tending to Buckeye, he saddled up and rode down to the Marshall’s office to see about his Pa. He let the horse walk at a slow pace as he took in the many businesses along the way. The streets were bustling with noisy patrons and those conducting business along the busy stretch of the city.
Violet calico fluttering in the slight breeze caught the corner of Logan’s eye. He tried to keep his focus on the task before him, but he couldn’t help but feel drawn to the woman wearing it. Without even seeing her face, he sensed a familiarity that caused him to slow the horse to a near stand-still just long enough to bask in the unusual pull he felt coming from her. He kept his face forward as long as he could stand it, and then gazed upon her.
He tipped his hat to avoid her thinking he was gawking at her, but he couldn’t help but stare. The breeze played with blond curls that framed her face, the rest of her hair lay at the base of her neck in a wind-blown chignon. As her lashes lifted in his direction, green eyes stared back at him, and her parasol didn’t hide the glint of sunlight that sparkled in them. She smiled as he passed her, causing his heart to skip a beat. For a moment, he let his guard down long enough to feel. But as he looked down the road to his destination, his heart hardened again with dreaded anticipation of what he was about to encounter at the Marshall’s office.
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