Farmer's Daughter Romance Collection : Five Historical Romances Homegrown in the American Heartland (9781630586164)

by Peterson, Tracie; Davis, Mary; Hake, Kelly Eileen; Stengl, Jill; Warren, Susan May

  That’s newly sprung in June.”

  Beulah felt herself blush rose red when Myles caught and held her gaze.

  “As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

  So deep in love am I,

  And I will love thee still, my dear,

  Till a’ the seas gang dry.”

  He was singing the love song to her! Beulah gripped the piano case with both hands, feeling the music reverberate in her soul.

  “And fare thee weel, my only love,

  And fare thee weel a while!

  And I will come again, my love,

  Tho’ it were ten thousand mile!”

  The song ended. Myles lowered his gaze to the keys, releasing Beulah from his spell. “Hope you like Robbie Burns,” he spoke into a profound silence. “It was the only love song I could think of at the moment. I know some opera, but didn’t think you’d care to hear me sing in Italian.”

  Beulah drew a deep breath; it caught in her throat.

  “Never cared much for fancy singing, but that beats all,” Al admitted. “I think I’d be pleased to listen for as long as you cared to sing—and in any language you choose.”

  “How long had it been since you played the piano?” Violet asked.

  Myles figured for a moment. “More than nine years. It’s a gift, I guess—being able to play any song I hear. I didn’t play those pieces flawlessly, of course, but usually I can play and sing almost anything after hearing it once or twice.”

  “Amazing! I heard no mistakes. Myles, you have thrilled our souls. Thank you for sharing your gift,” Violet said. “I hope you know that you are part of our family, whatever your name.”

  The entire group murmured agreement.

  “If anyone is thirsty or hungry,” Violet continued, “we have cider and cookies in the kitchen. You are all welcome to stay as long as you like.”

  Everyone seemed to relax, and conversations began to buzz. Cyrus and Pastor Schoengard asked Myles to play requests, which he obliged. Strains of “My Old Kentucky Home” and “It Is Well with My Soul” accompanied the chatter. Samuel chased another boy into the parlor, laughing and shouting. Their mothers shooed the boys outside.

  Beulah drifted toward the kitchen and claimed a cup of homemade cider. The drink felt cold and unyielding in her stomach, so she left her cup on the counter. She wanted to wander outside amid the fruit trees, but the night was cool and her dress was thin. She could retire to her room for the night, but that would negate any chance of talking with Myles. Wrapping a shawl around her shoulders, she took refuge on the porch swing.

  The front door opened and closed. “May I speak with you?”

  Startled, Beulah looked up. Moonlight shimmered on a full skirt and fisted hands. Marva’s face was hidden in shadow.

  “Yes.”

  The other woman joined her on the swing, making it creak. A moonbeam touched Marva’s beautiful hair and traced silver tear streaks on her face. Muscles tensed in her round forearms as she repeatedly clasped her hands.

  “Myles loves you.” Marva gulped.

  Beulah had no idea what to say. Dear God, please help me to be kind and good. She pulled her shawl closer and saw Marva do the same. They would both freeze out here on the swing.

  “Are you going to marry Al?” Marva asked. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t love him that way.”

  Marva sighed. “You’re so young. Do you have any idea what you want in a husband?”

  “I know that I don’t want to marry a man who is like a brother to me.”

  “So you would steal a man from another woman?”

  Beulah stiffened. “Of course not! What a—” She nearly choked on her own hasty words. Maybe Marva’s insinuation was unkind, but it was the desperate charge of a broken heart. What might Beulah be tempted to say under similar circumstances? She felt sudden sympathy for Marva.

  “You already had Al. Why did you try to steal Myles from me?” Tears roughened Marva’s voice.

  “I didn’t know you loved him, Miss Obermeier. I wasn’t trying to be cruel to you, honestly!”

  Marva covered her face with her hands. “It’s not fair! It’s just not fair.”

  Beulah patted Marva’s shoulder. “My mother tells me that God is always fair. If He doesn’t allow you to marry Myles, then He must have someone better in store. You’ve got to trust Him, Marva. He doesn’t make mistakes.”

  Marva lowered her hands and sucked in a quivering breath. “You’re nothing like I thought you were, Beulah Fairfield. Everyone talks about your sharp tongue and quick temper. They must be jealous. You’re really a sweet girl.” Her tone was doleful. “No wonder Myles loves you. You’re both pretty and nice.”

  “So are you,” Beulah said. “Just now I asked God to help me be kind; it doesn’t come naturally to me.”

  Marva gave a moist chuckle. “Me, neither. I came out here wanting to scratch your eyes out! It’s easy for you to talk about God bringing someone better along; but when you get to be twenty-six with not so much as a whisker of a husband in sight, you’ll know how I feel. Of course, you’re likely to be married and a mother several times over by the time you’re my age.”

  She stood up, leaving Beulah in the swing. “When my parents come outside, will you tell them I’m in the buggy?”

  “I’ll tell them. Are you sure you’re all right, Marva?” She followed the older girl down the steps.

  Marva shivered. “I’ll recover. Humiliation isn’t fatal.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve come close to dying of it more than once.”

  Marva reached out and hugged Beulah. “Maybe my heart isn’t as broken as I thought it was. I feel better already. Myles is a wonderful man, but he never did seem to care for my cooking, and sometimes when I talked to him I saw his eyes kind of glaze over. Guess I’d better be patient and wait for God’s choice instead of hunting down a man for myself.”

  Beulah found it hard to restrain a giggle, but Marva waved off her efforts. “Go ahead and laugh. I know I’m silly.” She grinned. “You know, I once even considered Sheriff Martin as a marriage prospect. I didn’t consider him long, but the thought crossed my mind.”

  “Marva, he’s old enough to be your father!”

  Marva chuckled. “I know. Oops, here come my parents. You’d better get inside before you freeze. I’ll see you at church, Beulah.”

  “I would take it as a favor if you would sing in church,” Reverend David Schoengard said in a hushed voice. “God could mightily use a talent like yours.”

  “I hope He will,” Myles replied. “When the time is right, I will let you know.”

  “Don’t wait too long,” David advised.

  “I am still learning what it means to honor Jesus as Lord. You know that story about the lost sheep? That’s me.”

  “The church door is open to lost sheep.”

  A small boy tugged at the pastor’s leg. “Dad, Ernie hit me.”

  “Excuse me a moment, please.” David squatted to listen to his son.

  Myles scanned the room.

  “Looking for Beulah?” Al asked. Leaning one elbow on the piano, he sipped a cup of cider. “She’s talking with Marva, I think. I spotted the two of them on the porch swing not long ago. If you need help splitting up a cat fight, call on me.”

  “How did you—”

  “Please, don’t ask! Anyone with half an eye could have read the look on your face while you sang to Beulah tonight, old friend. I’m thinking you’d better soon have a serious talk with Buck, or he’ll be after you with the shotgun.” Al’s grin was pure mischief. “I’m also thinking I’ll have to miss that train tomorrow. Don’t you want me to stand up at your wedding?”

  “You’re not angry?”

  “Naw. When two people are right for each other, it’s obvious. And vice versa. Beulah and I blended like horseradish and ice cream. You’ll be good for her; she needs someone to keep her in line. You should have seen her writhing in jealousy when you showed up with
Marva tonight.” Al chuckled. “She must have been dying when I talked about what a handsome couple you and Marva made.”

  Myles felt his face grow warm. “I intended to tell Marva tonight—”

  “I don’t think you need to say a word. She knows. Her parents just left. They looked pretty sad.”

  His shoulders slumped. “They’re good people, Al. And Marva’s a nice lady. I feel bad about hurting her.”

  Al shrugged. “Some of us are slow to catch on. I wasn’t the quickest hog to the trough, myself. Don’t know why I couldn’t see the attraction between you and Beulah before now. It sticks out like quills on a porcupine. But there will be another girl for me—one who appreciates my humor and thinks I’m great.” He grinned.

  Myles had to smile. “You’re chock-full of brilliant analogies tonight. Porcupine quills?”

  “So are you going to talk with Beulah or not?”

  He found Beulah on the porch swing. Watchful lay at her feet. The dog flopped a fluffy tail. “Isn’t it too cold for swinging?” Myles asked.

  Huddled beneath her shawl, Beulah stared up at him. “I guess it is. I needed a place to think, but I’ve discovered that the front porch isn’t private.”

  Myles leaned a hip against the railing, gazing out past the barn. His left leg jiggled up and down. “Al told me Marva talked to you.”

  “She was crying at first, but when she left she was laughing. I like her, Myles. She is funny and nice. I think she could be a friend.”

  He shifted against the rail. “I was planning to explain to her tonight. About you and me, I mean.”

  Her voice was too bright. “I enjoyed your singing. I don’t understand why you hid your talents for so long.”

  The comment interrupted his train of thought. “It’s a long story.”

  From somewhere beyond the barn came a commotion. Watchful lifted her head, ears pricked. Myles followed the dog’s gaze, but saw nothing. Hackles raised, growling softly, the dog trotted down the steps and headed for the barn. The white tip on her tail was visible after the rest of her disappeared.

  “Myles?” Beulah stopped swinging and leaned forward. “What is it?”

  Watchful began to bark. Myles had never heard such a noise—the dog sounded frantic, terrified. His ears caught the bawling of cattle, trampling hooves.

  “I don’t know, but I’m gonna find out.”

  Running feet approached, and two small figures appeared in the moonlight. Myles heard the boys panting before he could identify Samuel and his buddy, Scott Schoengard. “Myles!” Samuel said, stumbling up the steps. “There is something big in the yearling pen—something that roars!”

  Chapter 11

  We roar all like bears….

  ISAIAH 59:11

  I called Watchful, but she won’t come. Go save her, Myles! That monster will kill her!” Samuel was sobbing.

  Myles threw open the front door. “Buck! Al! Trouble at the barn.”

  Buck snatched up a lantern and a rifle, tossing another gun to Myles. Al caught up with them halfway across the yard. The yearling pen was ominously quiet except for Watchful’s shrill yelps. Leaning against the split rail fence, Buck lifted the lantern. On the far side of the pen, many wide eyes reflected the lamplight. A young cow bawled.

  “Watchful, come.” The stern command brought the collie to heel, ears flattened, tail between her legs. Every hair on the dog’s body stood on end. She still yammered at intervals. “Hush, Watchful.” Instant silence. She pressed against Buck’s leg and shivered.

  Buck unlatched the gate, and the three men stepped into the pen. Myles felt the hair on his nape tingle. A cursory examination of the corral revealed that the invader was gone.

  Buck studied the muddy ground with a practiced eye. He pointed out bunches of woolly hair on a fence post along with glutinous streaks of blood. “It was a bear.”

  Myles counted the cattle. “One yearling missing. The Hereford-cross with the white patch on his left hip.”

  Al measured a print in the mud with his hand. “That was one big bear. It lifted that steer over the fence.”

  “We’ll track it come morning. I don’t follow giant bears into dark forests,” Buck said with grim humor.

  Al crossed his arms. “That monster could have come after one of the children.”

  “Sam and Scott were playing near the barn,” Myles said. He swallowed a wave of nausea at the sudden mental picture of what might have been. “God must have been protecting them. I’ll be ready for the hunt first thing tomorrow, Buck.”

  “Me, too.”

  Buck lifted a brow at his cousin. “Don’t you have to get ready for your trip, Al? Your train leaves at four o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”

  Al glowered at the ground. “Might know I’d have to miss the fun. All right. I’ll feed and milk in the morning, one last time, so you two can hunt.”

  Something cracked in the darkness near the gate. Watchful’s ears pricked. The men spun around, guns lifted. A ghostly figure drifted closer. “It’s me—Beulah.”

  “What are you doing?” Al snapped. “Don’t you know there’s a bear out here somewhere?”

  Beulah clutched her shawl. “I didn’t know until now.” Her voice sounded small.

  “Back inside, Beulah,” Buck ordered. “Your mother will worry.”

  “I’ll escort her.” Myles stepped out of the corral.

  “No lingering.”

  “Yes, sir.” Myles had never before heard that protective note in Buck’s voice. He followed Beulah toward the kitchen door. She drifted beneath the apple trees, crunching leaves beneath her feet.

  “I love all our trees and the beautiful fall color, but now comes the hard part—raking,” she said in a quivering falsetto. “Did you like the cider? My mother and I made it from our apples.”

  Myles touched her arm. “Beulah.”

  She turned. Her eyes were dark pools in her pale face. “Oh Myles, you aren’t really going to hunt that bear, are you? I’m frightened!”

  She cared! “I’ve hunted bears before. Buck and I will hunt this one down in no time. A few shots and it’ll be over.”

  Her hand fluttered up to rest upon his chest. Myles wrapped his fingers around her upper arm. “Buck told me not to linger, but I must tell you tonight. I love you, Beulah. I want to marry you. I want it more than anything.” His voice cracked.

  He heard her suck in a quick breath. “Do you know God yet, Myles? Mama and Papa both told me to wait until you gave your life to Him. You said something tonight about making your peace with God’s help. Did you mean it?”

  “I did. I do. I wrote to my grandmother and apologized for running away. I imagine she will contact me soon, and I expect to make a quick trip to New York to wrap up business affairs.” His voice trembled with eagerness. “I’m planning to buy the Thwaite farm, Beulah. For us. You and me. How does that sound?”

  He wanted to hold her in his arms, but the rifle in his right hand made that impractical.

  Beulah touched his beard with two fingers. “It sounds wonderful…but are you sure you want to be a farmer? You can do so many things. I’ve never known anyone like you.”

  “I’m sure.” He leaned the rifle against the back steps and took Beulah into his arms. “Are you sure you want to marry a farmer?”

  She captured his face between her hands and gently kissed his lips. “Please don’t go away, Myles. Not ever.”

  “What?” he mumbled, conscious only of his need for another kiss. Her lips warmed beneath his, and her hands gripped his shoulders. Myles kissed her again and again until the cold, dark world faded away. Nothing existed except Beulah, sweet and pliant in his arms.

  The kitchen door opened, catching them in a beam of light. “Beulah, it’s time for you to come inside,” Violet said.

  The couple sprang apart, wide-eyed and breathing hard. Beulah grabbed for her falling shawl and rushed past her mother into the house.

  “Myles, I believe you need to talk with Obadiah before you meet
with Beulah again.”

  Myles heard the iron behind Violet’s mild tone. Gathering his scattered self-control, he nodded and picked up the rifle. “This is Buck’s.”

  Violet took it from him. “Al is waiting for you out front.” She started to close the door then paused. “I know you love my daughter, Myles, and I’m not opposed to the match. But as her mother, I must be careful of her purity.”

  Guilt swamped him. “I understand. I am sorry, ma’am. It won’t happen again.”

  “See that it doesn’t. Good night, Myles Van Huysen.”

  Myles stepped into predawn darkness, feeling the chill through his wool coat and gloves. A recent dusting of snow on the ground might make tracking more difficult. Cholla was displeased to see him so early, but she accepted her bit after Myles warmed it in his palm. “We’re on a hunt, girl. Like old times.”

  Cats waited around Cholla’s stall, making noisy petition for milk. “Sorry, friends. No milk this morning.” Myles thought of Pushy, still sleeping on his bed, and grinned. These cats would rebel for certain if they knew she got her own saucer of cream each morning and evening.

  He tied a scabbard to his saddle and shoved his loaded rifle into it, then packed extra cartridges into his saddlebags. “Hope we’re back in time to escort Al to the station.” He would miss his young boss and friend.

  Cholla broke into a canter, tossing her head and blowing steam. Myles hauled her back to a jog. “Too dark for that pace, my lady. We’ll get there soon enough.”

  Buck waited in the yearling paddock. By the first light of dawn, he studied the bear’s spoor. Buck nodded greeting as Myles joined him. “Big bear, like Al said. Amazing claw definition for a blackie. I’d say it was a grizzly if I didn’t know better.”

  “Powerful, whatever it is, to carry off a yearling steer. It obviously has little fear of man.”

  “Makes my heart sit in my throat to think how the children have walked and ridden about the property at all hours these past weeks. And all the while this monster was afoot.”

  Myles had been having similar thoughts. “Have you heard the rumors that a bear escaped from the circus? If this is the bear I think it might be, our lives have been in constant danger. That grizzly hated people.”