by Jill Summers
Copyright 2015 by Jill Summers
Cover Design by Kim Killion, Hot Damn Designs
E-book Formatted by Jessica Lewis, Authors’ Life Saver
Editing by Jena O’Connor, Practical Proofing
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to your online retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Table of Contents
-Prologue-
-Chapter One-
-Chapter Two-
-Chapter Three-
-Chapter Four-
-Chapter Five-
-Chapter Six-
-Chapter Seven-
-Chapter Eight-
-Chapter Nine-
-Chapter Ten-
-Epilogue-
-Prologue-
June 18, 1884, Dayton Springs, Dakota Territory
“You got another letter, Mrs. Parks.” The postmaster smiled as he handed the envelope over the counter. “A nice fat one, too.”
“Thank you, Mr. Nelson.” Clementine Parks took the envelope with care. Just the fact that Caleb had written had made the tough week worth it. Anticipation snapped through her. She couldn’t wait to read what he had to say!
“I’m glad to see you have some folks who care about you after all.” The postmaster studied her with pity.
Pity was the hardest. She drew her patched sweater over her worn calico dress. Her stomach chose that moment to rumble, loud enough to travel quite easily through the room. She blushed, embarrassed.
“Thank you,” she muttered, turning around before the people in line could offer their well-meaning sympathy, too. She clutched the envelope like the treasure it was and rushed out through the door. She darted around shoppers to slip down the alley. Leaning against the brick wall of a building, she held the letter up to the late afternoon light.
Caleb’s handwriting was so precise. Her heart warmed as she ran a fingertip across the letters of her name. They’d only been writing for a month, but the man’s kindness and good humor came through clearly in his writing.
Goodness, her hands were shaking! She took a breath to steady herself before carefully ripping open the envelope. When she extracted the two folded sheets of paper inside, a hundred dollar bill fluttered to the ground.
Traveling money. Tears of relief and happiness blurred her vision as she snatched it up before the wind could steal it. She turned to the first letter, written in a child’s sprawl.
Dear Mrs. Clementine, we can’t wait to be your girls, she read. Please write back and say yes. We love you real bad. Love, Gracie and Hope.
Oh, those two. Clementine had to swipe tears from her eyes. The girls’ letter could only mean one thing. Her heart stopped beating as she unfolded the second letter. Hope came to life within her—something she hadn’t felt since the day her baby boy fell sick.
Clementine, she read . I feel as if we’ve gotten to know you very well in our last few letters. Well enough to be sure that we are a good match. Would you do me the honor of being my wife? Come to Montana and be part of this family. We’ll help each other—we’ll make your life easier if you fill ours with love.
Perfect. Dr. Caleb Blake was the answer to her heartfelt wishes, to the loneliness she faced every day. Clementine took a moment to clear her eyes, blinking hard and breathing in and out nice and slow, trying to control her feelings. It had been a long time since something this good had happened to her. It felt like the first spring dawn after a long, frigid winter.
“Clementine!” Her landlady came out onto the back porch across the alley, with a broom in hand. “There you are. We’re short-handed in the kitchen today and you are on duty.”
“I’ll be there in a second. I promise.” She longed to read the rest of Caleb’s letter—to hear more about his country practice, his home, his family and the diner where the little girls liked to order pie. But she had a job to keep—until she left town to marry Caleb. Because she was going to marry him.
“From that grin of yours, I’m guessing that mail-order advertisement of yours paid off.” The elderly woman bent to the task of sweeping the dust off the back porch.
Clementine launched off the wall, folding the letters and the money back into the envelope as she went. “Yes, I just received a marriage proposal.”
“I’ll hate to see you go, but no one deserves it more.” The landlady stopped sweeping. “After working two jobs to pay off the burial and medical bills, the way you have. That ain’t easy. When are you leaving?”
“Soon. As soon as I can.” Clementine climbed the back steps, feeling happier than she’d been in years. “I’m giving my notice.”
“I knew you were going to say that. Congratulations Clementine, and best wishes for a happy life with your new family.”
Oh, that sounded good to her. Just plain wonderful.
-Chapter One-
Clementine felt watched as she sat on the train seat by the window watching the countryside roll by. The feeling had pulled her out of her thoughts, which despite the beautiful landscape, kept taking her back to her worst doubts about marrying a stranger.
Was she a fool? Or would it work out better than she dared hope? Dr. Caleb Blake’s letters had touched her. So here she was, about to arrive in Sweet Creek, Montana, Territory.
“Oops, sorry lady!” A boy maybe seven or eight years old apologized when his brother shoved him into the aisle and jostled her seat. “Stop pushing me, Jerrod!”
“Ma, Johnny pushed me first.” A boy protested from the seat across the aisle.
An embarrassed looking mother apologized and hauled her boys back onto their seat.
“Are they twins?” Clementine couldn’t help asking.
“Yes. Never have twins. Ever.” The poor woman looked ragged as she placed a hand on each of her sons’ shoulders to keep them in place. “Twins are a curse, I swear. A mother should never be so burdened.”
“I can see they are quite a handful.” She meant it kindly because the boys simply looked bored. There wasn’t much to do on the train. “I’m marrying a man with two daughters about the same age.”
“For your sake, I hope they aren’t twins!” The woman plopped onto her seat, pale with exhaustion. “Or you’d better run away as fast as you can.”
Clementine opened her mouth, not knowing what to say to that. Did she feel a growing sense of doom? Or was it just hunger? Her stomach rumbled, making it hard to tell.
The train squeaked to a stop, the noisy brakes hurting her ears as the town came into sight. This was to be her new home. Green trees, roof tops, a string of buildings—that was all that she could see before the depot platform came into sight and there they were, her girls.
At least the two identical sprites running up and down the platform trying to see into the windows were probably the twins Caleb had written of. They had brown braids and red calico dresses and the cutest button faces she’d ever seen. They wer
e adorable, even if they did have a lot of energy. Look at them go!
“Mrs. Clementine?” A face bobbed into view at her window. Blue eyes sparkled with mischief before the girl bobbed back out of view.
But another girl jumped up. “Is it her? I think it’s her!”
She disappeared, too. The girls’ muffled conversation had Clementine smiling.
“It’s gotta be her. She said she’d sit by the window.”
“And she’s got blond hair.”
“And a blue hat! Just like her letter. She’s our new ma!”
Clementine gave a little sigh. Those little girls made her heart skip three beats. Their letters to her were charming but hadn’t prepared her for this moment. Not at all. She bounded to her feet, spilling into the aisle and forgetting to look where she was going. A rather rotund man gave her a disapproving frown as he battled his way down the aisle and out of the car with his satchel.
Oh! Her luggage! She had to backtrack, grab her valise and rush past the twin boys and their exhausted mother (who looked at her with great pity).
“Mrs. Clementine!” One of the girls shouted the second she disembarked. “You saw us and everything—”
“—and you’re even getting off the train,” the second girl finished.
“That’s right.” She smiled at them. “What would you expect me to do? Turn around and pretend I’m someone else?”
“We weren’t gonna let you,” the first twin told her, serious as a judge.
“We ain’t givin’ you any choice.” The second twin grabbed hold of the valise and tugged. “We liked you best of all the letters we got.”
“You mean the letters your father received.” Clementine felt out of breath. She took a moment to look up and noticed not many people were getting off the train. Sweet Creek didn’t look like a big town, which was fine by her. She was used to small towns. She found them cozy. “Where is he?”
“Pa?” The first twin’s forehead furrowed. “Well, uh—”
“Don’t tell her, Gracie!” The second twin clutched the valise with both hands. “You promised.”
“I wasn’t gonna tell her.” Gracie rolled her eyes.
“Tell me what?” Clementine asked. All kinds of worries rose up. What if Caleb had changed his mind? What if he’d decided on another woman?
Suddenly she saw her hoped-for future begin to dim. The place in her soul, the one yearning for a family of her own, ached. She felt hollow, as if her arms would always remember the baby she’d lost. In that moment, the sun went out. It was as if she couldn’t breathe.
“Mrs. Clementine?” Hope tilted her head to one side. “You ain’t thinkin’ of running, are you?”
“You’re awful quiet,” Gracie added.
How did she tell these precious girls what she’d been through, what she’d lost? She squared her shoulders, determined to stay in the here and now, to make the most of the present. “I’m just so glad I’m here.”
“Whew.” Hope looked relieved.
Gracie swiped her forehead. “We looked awful hard for a ma. We’d hate to lose you.”
“Your father must have given you a lot of ladies’ letters to read.” It was cute how the girls seemed to take so much responsibility. She followed them across the platform toward the street. “I don’t see your father. Isn’t he here?”
“He, uh—” Flustered, Hope dropped the valise.
“He had to work!” Gracie bounced down to grab the fallen bag. “He’s a doctor, you know. He works and works.”
“And works,” Hope finished. The girls shared a look, and it was that look that made Clementine wonder. She glanced over her shoulder at the train. She couldn’t see the mother of the twin boys from where she stood, but she remembered her prophetic words.
“We’ll just take you to the hotel ourselves,” Gracie supplied helpfully. “Yeah, that’s what we’re gonna do.”
Hope nervously looked up the long stretch of boardwalk, as if searching for someone she hoped not to see.
Yeah, something was wrong. Very wrong. A bad feeling settled behind her ribs. Clementine planted her feet, squinting against the hot Montana sun. “Okay, girls, what’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Gracie’s blue eyes widened innocently.
“Yeah, nothing. Honest.” Hope worked to look equally as innocent.
“He changed his mind about me, didn’t he?” That had been her biggest fear in taking the risk to come here. Dr. Caleb Blake was a widower in dire need of a wife—he’d been very clear about that. Maybe he hadn’t been willing to wait for her. “Once I left, there was no way to contact me to tell me not to come.”
Disappointment? No, that wasn’t the word. It was something deeper, something more hopeless. The cheerful little letters she received from Caleb and his girls had lit up her world, made it feel as if the sun could shine again. She hadn’t realized how hard she’d been holding onto that dream.
“No!” Gracie dropped the valise, lunging to grab one of Clementine’s hands. “Pa, uh, still wants you.”
“Yeah, he wants you a lot. More than anything.” Hope grabbed Clementine’s other hand.
She looked from one girl to the other, and the bad feeling behind her ribs grew until it hurt to breathe. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
“Girls?” A deep baritone broke into her thoughts. Heavy footsteps thudded on the boardwalk in her direction. A man who had to be Caleb Blake marched to a stop. His black Stetson shaded his eyes, casting shadows across his granite face. “Why aren’t you in school and who is this woman?”
Clementine opened her mouth but couldn’t figure out what to say and closed it again. This man should know who she was and why she was here. Why didn’t he?
“We, uh, had an errand, Pa.” Gracie’s chin went up.
“Yeah, we had to save Mrs. Clementine,” Hope added.
Clementine watched the doctor’s mouth twist down in confusion, giving him an even more imposing presence. But was it her imagination, or was that a flash of humor in his dark eyes?
“Why would this woman need saving?” he asked, staring directly at the girls.
“Well—” Gracie rolled her eyes upwards, as if thinking hard. “We couldn’t let her starve.”
“Yeah, we have lots of food at home. We can feed her and everything.”
“And why would we want to feed her?” Caleb asked, his voice firm, his granite features turning hard.
She could feel his scrutiny. “It’s pretty clear you don’t know who I am, Caleb.”
“No, I can’t say I do. You’re not from around here. I know everyone in these parts. I’ve treated them at one time or another. Did you just get off the train?” He gestured with his chin toward the depot behind her.
“Yes.” She smiled past the sinking feeling in her stomach.
“And you know my name how?” He arched an eyebrow, waiting for the answer.
“Because I came here to marry you.” She said the words as gently as she could to ease the shock. The poor man paled anyway. “You wrote me all kinds of letters.”
“Ma’am, I assure you. I did not.” He turned to pure stone—all imposing six feet of him. “What kind of swindle is this? And why do my daughters know you?”
The protective love in his eyes—the protective anger—only made her like him more. Anyone could see he was a good father to his girls.
“Do you want to tell him?” she asked the twins. “Or do you want me to?”
“Well—” Gracie hedged, rolling her eyes up to the sky as if hoping an answer would be written there.
“Uh—” Hope bit her bottom lip, worry crinkling her forehead.
“What did you girls do now?” Caleb turned his anger on them. He did not look happy. “Gracie, I want the truth.”
“Grandpa asked her to marry you and we helped.” Gracie flashed him her best doe-eyed look.
“What do you mean you helped?”
“We ain’t sorry we did it, Pa.” Hope spoke up, the worry on her button face t
urning to deviance. “We told you we needed a ma. You wouldn’t listen.”
“Yeah,” Gracie added. “We wanted the lady down the road with the cows, but you didn’t like her.”
“Or the lady that plays the piano in church,” Hope chimed in.
“Or the widow with the little baby girl we liked.”
Oh, those poor twins, wanting a mother so badly. Clementine’s heart twisted. They stood there side by side in their matching calico dresses and identical sweetness. The same round faces, the same big blue eyes, the sloping noses, dimpled chins and Cupid bow mouths—exactly matching. Nothing could be cuter.
“They wrote me letters,” she explained to the glowering father. “They were such nice letters. Please don’t be mad at them.”
“Easy for you to say.” His big hands fisted like a man battling to hold onto every scrap of self-control. “You two have caused some trouble before—and I mean trouble—but this? This is reprehensible. Unforgivable. You brought a woman all the way out here to marry me?”
“It was all Grandpa’s idea,” Gracie was quick to explain.
“Yeah, we’re innocent.”
“Girls, turn around and march straight back to school. If I see you so much as glance back over your shoulder, your punishment doubles. Got that?”
“Aw, Pa.” The two chorused together. Hope sighed, Gracie cast Clementine an apologetic look and the two turned in unison, walking down the street. They didn’t look back.
Clementine’s heart went with them. For one moment—one sweet moment—it had been wonderful being their almost-mother.
She felt his gaze on her as tangible as a touch. She blushed, wondering how she must seem to him. Desperate? She couldn’t deny it. Full of longing? She couldn’t deny that either. She read the anguish on his handsome face.
“I am sorry.” He had bronze flecks in his baby blue eyes. Crinkles made him look mature and gave his face character. He was more than handsome—he had a sense of honor that radiated as surely as the heat from the sun. “You came here expecting something that can’t happen.”