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Love’s Bittersweet Gift
Ginny Sterling
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Afterword
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Also by Ginny Sterling
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter One
June 1870
“Come on now, Samuel. I could use your help,” Rebecca chided gently. She knew she was too easy on the boy, but it felt like the only thing she had left in this small town. Samuel’s blond hair and blue eyes made him look positively angelic. However, she knew inside that little five-year-old body that he had a willful streak to him that reminded her of herself when she was younger. Taking a deep breath of the stifling summer air, she thought back on how much her life had changed over the last few years.
As a young girl, she had never wanted to marry or ever intended to, especially at such a young age. Rebecca wanted to see the world, to live life! When the handsome drifter entered her home town, she had been enchanted instantly. James Poe had left her breathless when he had first spoken to her. She had been in awe of his sheer presence. He was a dreamer. And he was ambitious and eager to live life, just as she was. It seemed almost perfect … but, in hindsight, it was perfectly awful, once reality hit.
She had left home without a second look back. It was almost welcomed by her family as they had been suddenly blessed with another mouth to feed. Rebecca came from a large family of eleven brothers and sisters; thus, the room, clothing and extra food was most welcome with her departure. That was fine with her because she could have sworn to her naïve seventeen-year-old self, that James was her new path in life. Her future.
Now, he was gone and she was alone.
Rebecca had eagerly married James in a quick ceremony, with no frills, in the bustling town of Little Rock, Arkansas. She had never really missed the fuss of what a large wedding was or would entail. Instead, she grabbed her best three dresses and meager possessions, wrapping them up tightly, and jumped into a wagon bound for Texas. He had promised her independence, freedom and a chance to grasp the opportunities the world was laying at their feet. She had found that their definitions were quite opposite of each other.
Independence was only what her older husband allowed. James was thirty and was quite set in his ways in what he expected from her as his wife. Freedom was moving from her parents’ care to his. She was free to do what she wanted, as long as it matched his plan.
Opportunity and James’ plan for the future had to do with settling down on a plot of land he’d purchased outside of Sweet Grove, Texas. His intent had been to start a different grove that would rival the productive apple orchard there and the cider mill. He wanted to grow figs and pecans. He’d heard tales of how prolific the soil and town were, luring Rebecca into the promise of security that he would provide with their farm.
They had arrived in town to find that, while it was booming, the small town was nothing compared to how busy Austin was. It was a two-hour wagon ride into the heart of the market in order to sell their goods, if they couldn’t be sold in town. She’d been shocked at the lack of forethought that he had put into purchasing the land. When she suggested that he focus on selling locally, he’d gotten upset and accused her of undermining their dreams. Her husband, while loving and devoted, was incredibly childlike as well. If she argued against his plans, he would throw a fit. So, like a dutiful wife, she had quietly sat back and watched them fail slowly.
The figs, while still saplings, had grown quickly. Yet, it would be some time for them to truly produce enough fruit to have enough to provide for market. It took so much of the tiny, brown-skinned fruits for it to actually be worth a decent harvest. The pecan trees that James had planted barely grew. She had been mortified to hear in town that there were male and female pecan trees and that it took years for them to produce at all.
Her marriage struggled. The farm struggled. And now, the pecan trees he had naively dreamed of would be barren of fruit for quite some time. Fortunately for Rebecca, she was not. She had become pregnant right away after their marriage. She had told James of her pregnancy as they worked on finishing the one room house. He’d been happy at the news. But as time passed, her beloved husband had grown more despondent. It was like everything was compounding on him at once.
The child coming.
The lack of income from the bare trees.
He even mentioned that he should have never listened to her and bought the land there. This shocked Rebecca because it had been his idea, not hers! She would remember that fight and it would haunt her for years to come. There had been so much anger, so much frustration that had built up between them. She had reached her limit and told him as much. It had been his foolhardy plans that had dragged her away from everything she had ever known. His face had turned quite ruddy in anger as he glared at her. He had stormed out of their little house into the night, leaving her alone to cry herself to sleep as she rubbed her enlarging stomach.
James had never returned. He’d been struck down by a rattler at some point during the night and succumbed to the poison, leaving her a widow with the ultimate memory of him: their child. Those next few months had flown by as she had accepted the town’s support. A flurry of faces had come to her door at the news of the loss of her husband at such a young, tender age. Meals, gifts, items for the home and the baby had kept her aloft while her body continued to swell and grow. She spent many a Sunday in the large, white church, praying for answers as to why she was being tasked with such a tremendous blessing and curse.
She had her freedom and the independence she wanted. But now, she was also responsible for the most beautiful gift a woman could receive. Rebecca placed a hand over her flat stomach as she remembered the last few years and the hard times that had come with them. There was no way she’d trade anything in the world for her Samuel. Her precious child. His spirit, his willfulness irked her. But deep inside, she knew she’d do anything he asked of her. It was the only thing she had left of James. That, and her little farm.
“Samuel, help Mama pick the figs, sweetie. Don’t eat them all or you’ll get a tummy ache,” she crooned and stroked his curly hair with a tender smile. “Have I told you that I love you today?”
“Muv you, too, Mama,” he replied with a full mouth and mischievous grin, popping yet another fig in his mouth instead of the woven basket that lay on the ground, a silent, unspoken challenge.
“Stinker! You’ll listen to me someday,” she chided and ate a fig as well. Sweet, tender juices exploded in her mouth and she understood why he was devouring them. While the nearby apple orchard was prolific and profitable, her figs were a rich, decadent treat that had ended up proving a bit of income for her this last year or two. She made jams and canned them, enabling her to sell them to the mercantile in town for a small bit of money. It worked for her and prevented her from having to go all the way into Austin
. She had the best of both worlds and it suited her.
Staring at the basket that was halfway full, she smiled. That was one thing that James had not told her about the fig saplings they had planted years ago: the fact that they were repeat bloomers over the summer months. This small grove of trees provided quite well! She jarred preserves in early summer and then again before the temperatures dropped. It was nothing impressive, but it was enough for them.
Sitting back on her heels, her dark brown skirt fanned around her, she wiped her forehead. That was one thing that still caught her by surprise: how warm it could get in the sun. Back home had been sweltering in the summer, but here it was a dry heat and affected you quickly. It might be time to go inside for the day. She was feeling extremely warm in her layers of clothing.
“Who’s that?” Samuel’s clear voice rang out, breaking her reverie. Glancing up, she pushed him behind her as she watched a rider come closer to where they sat in the broken shadows that the gnarled fig tree branches created.
“I’m not sure. Be quiet,” she ordered and got to her feet. She stared warily as the man approached. Dressed completely in dark colors except for his undershirt, he made a menacing figure. There was no mistaking that he was quite larger than her James had ever been. His broad shoulders and shadowed face made her distinctly nervous.
“You are trespassing on private property,” she called out firmly. She was proud of how strong her voice sounded, even though her knees shook underneath the layers of fabric of her dress.
“I’m looking for the owner,” he replied simply. His warm voice rolled over her, making her subconsciously begin to fan herself as the heat from the sun was suddenly unbearable.
“You’ve found her. What do you want?”
“My apologies, Ma’am. I was told to speak with R. Poe and assumed it was your husband.” The stranger tipped back his hat and stared at her. She saw that he had a gun strapped to his leg as well as a rifle tied to the saddle. This man meant business and she wanted no part of it.
“I am R. Poe. Rebecca. And I repeat: what do you want?” She had James’ pistol in her skirt pocket but didn’t want to draw it in front of Samuel. He wasn’t aware she still had his father’s gun and she wanted to keep it that way for safety reasons.
“My name is Andrew Page. I’m a Texas Ranger and I’m looking for a bandit reported in this location. Have you seen anyone suspicious in the area?”
“A bandit? The only person new in the area is you, Mr. Page.”
“Maybe I have started out on the wrong foot,” he apologized, getting down off his horse. This caused Rebecca to swallow as her eyes did not deceive her. He was much taller than she was. But now that they were on the same ground, she could see his face under the large brim of his hat. This stranger, Mr. Page, was simply gorgeous in a way that made her instantly unsettled. Dark, wavy hair curled up around the edges of his hat. Thick eyelashes surrounded his green eyes and he had a smile that curled her toes. A wave of guilt washed over her as she stamped down any urge to stare at him. Samuel pulled at her skirt just then, bringing her back to reality.
“You don’t need to come any closer, Mr. Page. We haven’t seen anyone in the area.” She took a step backwards and nearly tripped. Samuel was right against the back of her legs and holding tightly to her skirt as he stared at the man, transfixed.
Surprised, she watched as he nodded and then glanced down at Samuel. Her heart beat frantically in her chest at the scrutiny. “No one is here and, frankly, I think you need to go.” The tall man squatted down on his toes and smiled warmly at Samuel.
“Hey there, young man. Are you helping your mother pick today?” Rebecca stared, fascinated, as he suddenly addressed Samuel as if he’d known them forever. The cold gaze that he’d had on his face was gone and here was an open, warm invitation towards her son to talk.
“He doesn’t talk to strangers.”
“Young man, my name is Andrew. What’s yours?”
Before Rebecca could cut off Samuel’s answer, she heard his high, clear voice announce his full name and the fact that he was five years old now. Rolling her eyes, she realized they would need to discuss what “don’t talk to strangers” meant again.
“Well, Samuel. It’s very nice to meet you. There is a very bad man in the area and if you see him, you need to tell your pretty mother so she can alert someone. Understand?”
“You’re a stranger,” Samuel quipped smartly, pointing his finger. Rebecca had to restrain herself from acknowledging how clever he was. The handsome Mr. Page just chuckled and tweaked his nose.
“You’d be right as of about a minute ago. But we just exchanged names and I’d like to be friends, if that is all right with you.”
Samuel nodded happily and darted around her skirt again, playfully. Mr. Page simply leaned to the side, ignoring her. “I’m serious, Samuel. If you’re playing outside and see someone around the house, you get your mother immediately. Mrs. Poe…” he began.
“It’s Miss. My husband died a few years ago,” she blurted out and nearly slapped a hand over her runaway mouth. His wide smile turned into a full-blown grin as if he could read her mind, causing her to blush like a young maiden.
“Ms. Poe, if you see or hear anything in the area, please don’t hesitate. I’m on the lookout for Jim Reed and his gang. They’ve been reported nearby and supposedly on their way to Dallas.”
“I appreciate the warning. But I assure you, I can take care of myself.”
“I see you have so far. Again, my condolences.”
“I take care of my mama, not you! No one else either!” Samuel suddenly blurted out. His little figure reappeared as if he were angry that he wasn’t the center of attention anymore. Rebecca blushed as his little arms wrapped possessively around her legs and waist, pushing against her legs. It took everything in her to keep from tumbling to the side. Her little Samuel was getting bigger every day and would, one day soon, knock her down by mistake.
“And you do a fine job, my little man,” she crooned, stroking his hair. “It’s I who should apologize now for his rudeness. I have taught him better than that.”
“Actually, it’s your son that needs to do the apologizing,” the Texas Ranger pointed out, instantly setting her on edge. How dare he tell her how to raise her son! The nerve!
“You don’t know us, nor are you in any position to say what he needs,” she bit out hotly.
“Samuel,” he said, ignoring her. “That was wrong to interrupt grownups talking. If you apologize, I will take you and your mother to feed the ducks out at the pond tomorrow.”
“No thank –” Rebecca began.
“SORRY! I’M SORRY!” Samuel yelled as he interrupted loudly. He instantly looked chagrinned as he realized that he had interrupted them yet again. “I’m sorry I interrupted.”
“Atta boy!” Mr. Page acknowledged. The smug expression on his face made her want to throw something directly between his eyes. “I will see you both tomorrow.” He tipped his dark hat and pulled himself onto the horse. Rebecca was galled to see Samuel take off after him, running and waving his arm in the air yelling “bye” all the while. She’d be darned if they would take off and go walking down to the pond with a perfect stranger – a stranger that challenged her authority over her son! How dare he!
Chapter Two
The next morning, it was all Rebecca could do to keep from screaming out loud in frustration. Samuel went on and one about visiting the ducks later today with “Andrew”. She didn’t even remember his first name, only that smile and how irritating he had been towards her. He had really irked her nerves and she’d be darned if they would spend the day lollygagging around petting ducks. There was work that needed to be done around the house.
“Samuel, come help Mama wash the jars,” she instructed absently and cringed when he ran over eagerly, singing that he’d wash the jars and play with the ducks.
“We’ll try to see the ducks later today – just you and me. Okay?” she cajoled.
“We see ducks today with Andrew,” he chimed in, beaming.
“No, no. Not with Andrew, just us. You and I will go later on or tomorrow, together.”
“But we could go today. I’ve been good, Mama!” She shut her eyes and prayed for patience as his little bottom lip quivered. He had been extraordinarily good today and she hated to punish him by not taking him to the pond. The idea of seeing the handsome Texas Ranger again just didn’t sit well with her. She hadn’t been attracted to a man in years. And now, out of the blue, this handsome man rides into her life and wins over her son in two minutes?
“We’ll go together later, I promise.”
“With Andrew.”
Sighing, she wasn’t about to argue with a child. There was no way he’d understand and in his mind, they were now buddies. It just wasn’t that simple. Andrew – Mr. Page, was a stranger. She didn’t need friends or help. If she did? She’d ask for it from the church or from others in town. They had helped her before and she had grown strong on her own two feet from their silent support.
As she listened to Samuel’s sweet voice singing to himself about the ducks, she sighed and went on about her way, picking up around the small house. Perhaps, she’d start up the stove this evening once the sun went down so that the warm house didn’t end up sweltering. Plus, there was the added bonus that if Samuel was asleep, she wouldn’t have to worry about the preserves splattering or burning him. He had touched the stove one year, burning his tender, little hand. He cried great big tears… and she’d cried, too. The guilt that she had let her baby down, that he’d gotten injured on her watch, tore at her soul. When James had died, she’d blamed it on herself. Seeing her little man injured reopened all those feelings.
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