With Autumn's Return (Westward Winds Book #3): A Novel

by Amanda Cabot

  © 2014 by Amanda Cabot

  Published by Revell

  a division of Baker Publishing Group

  P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287

  www.revellbooks.com

  Ebook edition created 2014

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

  ISBN 978-1-4412-3677-7

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Praise for Amanda Cabot’s Novels

  Christmas Roses

  “Cabot writes a beautiful love story with a little mystery, the magic of Christmas, and the hope of a miracle.”

  —RT Book Reviews, 4 stars

  ——WESTWARD WINDS SERIES ——

  Summer of Promise

  “This story is packed with faith, danger, mystery, romance, and plenty of drama!”

  —fivestarbooksandmore.blogspot.com

  “This is a lovely and romantic read that I highly recommend!”

  —thelibrariansbookshelf.blogspot.com

  “In Cabot’s Westward Winds series starter, readers will enjoy reading through the story’s twists and turns. The characters are an interesting bunch; some of them are quirky, some are serious, but all have a story to share. With each book, Cabot writes something new and fresh.”

  —RT Book Reviews, 4 stars

  Waiting for Spring

  “The second book of the Westward Winds series has memorable characters who have what it takes to survive in the wilds of Wyoming Territory in the late 1800s. The storyline flows smoothly throughout, and there are a few surprises for readers to discover. Cabot’s historicals are her shining stars, and this one belongs on fans’ keeper shelves.”

  —RT Book Reviews, 4 stars

  “From the first page I found myself rooting for the young widow. Amanda Cabot offers a delightful read, and as I turned the pages I was swept away with a story of love, courage, and sacrifice. Recommended!”

  —Tricia Goyer, bestselling author of 32 books, including Beyond Hope’s Valley

  “One thing I know to expect when I open an Amanda Cabot novel is heart. She creates characters that tug at my heartstrings, storylines that make my heart smile, and a spiritual lesson that does my heart good. Her stories are like the first sweet scents of spring—pure pleasure.”

  —Kim Vogel Sawyer, bestselling author of My Heart Remembers

  For Judith B. Stumpf, my sister, my friend, and a woman who, like the fictional Elizabeth, is kindhearted and a skilled healer.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Praise for Amanda Cabot’s Novels

  Dedication

  Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory 1887

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  About the Author

  Back Ads

  Back Cover

  1

  JUNE 1887

  CHEYENNE, WYOMING TERRITORY

  At last! Elizabeth Harding grinned as she hung the sign in the window. Thirteen black letters. Four words. A simple message. If passersby noticed the wooden placard, and she hoped they would, they would have no way of knowing what those words meant to her, that they represented the culmination of a dream that had begun when she was only seven. They didn’t need to know. All they needed was the message the sign imparted.

  Once she was certain the board was perfectly straight, Elizabeth took a step back, then twirled around. It was silly perhaps, and some might call it undignified to be so excited, yet she couldn’t help it. Today was the first day of her new life.

  Yielding to impulse, she hurried outside and studied the sign. “The doctor is in.” Yes, indeed she was. And soon she’d be treating her first patient. The advertisements she had placed in the newspaper had alerted the city’s residents to her impending arrival, and today’s paper announced the official opening of her medical practice. It would be only a matter of minutes before the front doorbell tinkled, signaling the presence of someone needing her care. Everything was ready. Or was it?

  Assailed by the fear that she might have forgotten something, Elizabeth hurried back indoors and began studying the rooms that comprised her office. The waiting room, with its two benches and four chairs, was spotless. The potted plant that her sister had somehow kept alive through the long Cheyenne winter was carefully placed on the low table, and though sun did not yet stream through the westward-facing window, the room was bright and cheerful. There was nothing amiss here.

  Elizabeth moved slowly into the room that would serve as a combination office and examination room. Although it did not boast the fancy equipment she’d seen in Eastern hospitals, it was well-appointed. She had a cleverly constructed examining table with braces that allowed her to raise either the head or the foot. She’d even asked the carpenter to build a small stool so that shorter patients or children would be able to climb onto the table. The desk and chairs were new and matched the glass-fronted cupboard that held the supply of medicines that had been delivered only yesterday. She needed nothing more here.

  A quick study of the modest infirmary on the opposite side of the hallway told her everything was in place. Though she hoped few patients would need to avail themselves of it, its presence meant that Elizabeth could tend even the most seriously ill patient, and the small kitchen behind it would ensure that her basic needs as well as those of her patients would be satisfied.

  Returning to the main room and sinking into the chair behind her desk, Elizabeth smiled. The sign was perfect. The office was perfect. Soon everything would be perfect, for soon she would have proof that the years of studying, of practicing, of enduring the snide remarks and blatant jeers of her male classmates were all worthwhile. Soon she would have her first patient, and then she—and the world—would know that Elizabeth Harding was a doctor, a real doctor.

  Five minutes later, unable to remain seated, she wandered back to the waiting room and gazed outside, her eyes moving from bustling Central Avenue to the sky. Her sisters hadn’t exaggerated when they’d claimed there was nothing that compared to the Wyoming sky. Though initially Abigail hadn’t been impressed with much about the territory, even she had liked the sky, and Charlotte had been so in love with her first husband that she had declared everything about Wyoming beautiful.

  Deep blue with only a tiny puff of a cumulus cloud floating by, the sky was magnificent, but even if it had been dismal and gray all the time, Elizabeth would still have chosen Cheyenne for her new home. Though it had yet to achieve statehood, Wyoming was a progressive territory. Not only had it been the first to grant women the vote, it even had women bailiffs and jury members.

  Elizabeth’s smil
e broadened as she thought of all that Wyoming had to offer. It wasn’t simply the fact that both her sisters had settled here that had brought her to Cheyenne, though she was counting the months until they’d be reunited. Even more important was the knowledge that she would face no old-fashioned prejudices about women’s roles. Cheyenne wasn’t like the East, where Elizabeth would have had to battle for acceptance. No one here would declare that she was nothing but a glorified midwife.

  She cringed at the memory of one of her classmates making that very proclamation the day they’d both graduated, Elizabeth second in her class, the scoffing classmate close to the bottom. He had been offered partnerships with several successful physicians. She had received no such offers. Instead, she’d been advised to seek a position as a midwife.

  Cheyenne was different. She’d be accepted for her skills. Central Avenue, one of the city’s primary north-south streets, was busy. Women strolled by, intent on their purchases. Though on another day, Elizabeth might have made a game of guessing which of them were clad in gowns Charlotte had designed, she had no interest in games today. Men walked more briskly than the women, but while a few appeared to be headed toward her office, they detoured to the office next door, frowning when they saw that it was closed. Apparently the men of Cheyenne had a greater need for an attorney than they did for a doctor.

  “It’s the perfect location,” Charlotte had written as she described the building she’d chosen for Elizabeth’s office. Her oldest sister had been living in Cheyenne, serving as one of the city’s premier dressmakers, when Elizabeth had announced her intention of moving West as soon as she finished school. In typical big sister fashion, Charlotte had volunteered to select an office for her. “It’ll save you time,” she had declared, pointing out how long the renovations to her new husband’s store were taking. “I’ll have everything ready before you arrive.”

  The logic had been unassailable. More than most people, Charlotte knew how eager Elizabeth was to open her practice. That was why she and her husband had lent Elizabeth the money to outfit the office. Elizabeth’s other sister Abigail had contributed a portion of her teacher’s salary to pay for her schooling.

  “There are two offices in the building,” Charlotte’s letter continued. “A young attorney has the other one. The best part is, he lives above his office, so you’ll never be completely alone, even if you work late.”

  Though Elizabeth had hoped to have her residence above the office, Charlotte had been adamant that she live in Charlotte’s former apartment with widow Gwen Amos and her child, at least until Charlotte and her husband returned from their extended trip East. “It’ll be ideal,” Charlotte insisted when she and Barrett had stopped in New York for a brief visit with Elizabeth on their way to Massachusetts. “Gwen’s a wonderful cook, and you’ll love little Rose. Besides, it wouldn’t be seemly for you to live alone,” she had added, “especially with a single man next door. I haven’t met him, but I’ve heard that he’s charming and handsome. Not as handsome as Barrett, of course.”

  In Charlotte’s mind, no one could be more handsome than the man she’d married, but she’d made no secret of the fact that she believed both Elizabeth and Gwen needed loving husbands. That was one battle Elizabeth chose not to fight. As dearly as she loved her sisters, Elizabeth knew they would not understand that she did not care about handsome men, single or otherwise. When she’d first realized that being a doctor was the plan God had made for her life, she’d had long conversations with Mama and Papa. Though they’d supported her aspirations, they’d both cautioned her that it would not be an easy life and that few men would be willing to marry a woman whose first calling was to her patients. It had not been difficult to accept that, for unlike Charlotte and Abigail, Elizabeth’s dreams had never centered on a husband and children. She had come to Wyoming to heal bodies, save lives, and be the best aunt possible to Charlotte’s son and any children Abigail might have. But Charlotte was in Massachusetts, getting the training she needed to open a school for the blind, and Abigail was still in Washington Territory while her husband finished his commitment to the Army.

  Elizabeth stared out the front window, looking at the wagons and carriages that rolled by. Though she didn’t wish ill on anyone, surely there was someone who required a physician’s care. Children broke bones, and gastric distress affected people of all ages. But though the street traffic had increased, no one stopped at Elizabeth’s door.

  Perhaps she’d made a mistake, telling Gwen she shouldn’t visit today. Elizabeth hadn’t wanted to expose Gwen and her daughter to illness unnecessarily, but there appeared to be no danger of that. The only ailment they were likely to contract was boredom.

  Refusing to open her watch and see how long she’d spent staring outside, Elizabeth returned to her desk and unfolded the morning newspaper. She had brought Mr. Taggert’s Telegraph with her, planning to cut out the notice she’d placed in it, but she might as well read the news. There was nothing else to do.

  “Verdict Likely Today.” Elizabeth shuddered at the article that held a place of prominence on the first page. According to Gwen, the Bennett trial was the most sensational of the year. Adam Bennett, a young rancher, had been accused of killing his wife in a fit of rage. What made the trial so sensational wasn’t simply the fact that murder had been committed, but the manner of death. Helen Bennett had been bludgeoned. Even in a city that had once been noted for its lawlessness, the crime was heinous, as was the thought that the man who had once promised to love and cherish Helen was responsible for her brutal death. Though he declared his innocence, Adam Bennett had been found with blood spattering his hands and clothing.

  The citizens were divided in their opinion. Many agreed with Gwen that Adam Bennett was guilty, but his attorney, the man whose office adjoined Elizabeth’s, claimed otherwise, staunchly defending his client’s innocence. Elizabeth simply prayed that justice would prevail.

  Closing the paper, she looked at the still-empty waiting room.

  “Today’s the day.” Though Jason Nordling tried to control the enthusiasm in his voice, the glint in his client’s eyes told him he’d failed. Adam Bennett’s normally guileless blue eyes held a gleam that hadn’t been there a minute ago. “The prosecuting attorney and I will make our closing statements,” Jason continued. “Then the jury will decide.”

  Bennett nodded. “And by the end of the day I’ll be free.”

  Jason looked around the small room where his meetings with his client had taken place. Though not a jail cell, it was scarcely larger, and it boasted no windows. The walls and floor were in sore need of repainting, the two chairs and table scarred. It might be fanciful, but to Jason the room always smelled of despair. No wonder Bennett was anxious to leave.

  “I hope that’s the case.” Believing in his client’s innocence, Jason had done his best to represent him. He thought he had a strong argument, but juries could be unpredictable.

  “It’ll happen,” Bennett said with more confidence than he’d displayed during the trial. “People trust you. That’s why I hired you. You can convince ’em.”

  “I hope so.” Jason felt a surge of excitement flow through his veins. This was the reason he’d become a lawyer: to see justice done. While the three years of drafting wills, bills of sale, and articles of incorporation that had constituted his legal career thus far had paid his bills and given him a comfortable nest egg, it wasn’t what he’d envisioned when he’d studied law. This trial represented everything he sought: to exonerate innocent men. “Just remember what I told you. Keep your eyes down, and no matter what happens, do not smile. You want the jury to know that you’re a serious man.”

  Bennett nodded.

  Half an hour later, Jason stood in front of the jury, carefully making eye contact with one man after another. They appeared to be listening intently, even the man who’d yawned so frequently during the various witnesses’ testimony. Jason had spoken for six minutes; now it was time for his final statement.

  “
And so, gentlemen of the jury, you see that my client, Adam Bennett, was as much a victim as his beloved wife. We’ll never know why the stranger entered the Bennett home that night, whether he was intent on robbery or something else. All we know is that Helen Bennett is dead. The prosecuting attorney has tried to convince you that her husband killed her, but we know otherwise. Helen Bennett died at the hands of an unknown assailant, leaving her husband alone in this world, bereft of the woman he loved. The prosecuting attorney told you that my client had his wife’s blood all over him. We do not deny that. You heard Adam Bennett’s testimony. You know that he acted as any loving husband would. He gathered his wife into his arms, trying to save her. If I had a wife and had found her covered with blood, I would have done the same. So, I venture, would you.”

  Jason took a deep breath, pausing long enough to let his gaze move from one juror to the next. When he was satisfied that he had their full attention, he delivered his conclusion. “Adam Bennett is no more guilty of killing Helen than you are, and so I ask you to deliver the only possible verdict: not guilty.”

  As the jury filed from the courtroom into the adjacent deliberation chamber, Bennett caught Jason’s eye and winked. A wink? The corners of his client’s mouth turned up in what appeared to be a fleeting smirk, causing a knot of alarm to settle in Jason’s stomach. Something was amiss, for that was not the reaction he had expected.