The American Heiress Brides Collection

by Carter, Lisa; Davis, Mary; Dietze, Susanne

“I don’t see why you care for this woman, Mr. Jamison. She is a trial, for sure.”

  “I happen to love her,” Wyatt replied.

  “I love you, too.” Tears streamed down Savannah’s face. “I wanted to tell you the moment I saw you.”

  “How touching.” Morrillton fired at Wyatt’s feet. “That’s a warning. There’s a pen and ink in my saddlebags. Be a good girl and fetch them for me.” He gave Savannah a shove.

  Her eyes glittered with hate in the firelight, but she did as he instructed. She returned, clutching the pen in one hand, the bottle of ink in another. “Where shall I sign?”

  “Use that rock over there.” He motioned with his head.

  She turned as if to obey then whirled back and plunged the pen into his hand.

  Morrillton howled. His gun went off, the bullet whizzing past Wyatt’s head.

  Wyatt pulled the pistol he’d shoved into his sling free and fired, taking the man in the leg as Larry bolted from the bushes. The marshal tackled the banker to the ground and snapped a pair of handcuffs over his wrists.

  “Let’s see the sheriff help you now,” Larry said, yanking the man up. “I heard every threat you made to these people. You, sir, are going to jail for a very long time.” He pushed Morrillton toward his horse. The man stumbled, almost falling to his knees.

  Wyatt turned and grinned at Savannah. “Did you mean it? When you said you loved me?”

  She ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. “I’ll tell you every morning and every night until the day I die.”

  “Then I reckon we need to let your mother know there will be a wedding after all.”

  “When?”

  “As soon as I’m able to put both arms around you.”

  She pouted. “So long.”

  He laughed. “Come on, Miss Impatient. Let’s go home.” How sweet those words. He had a home, a family, a woman who loved him. How stupid he had been to contemplate leaving. No force on heaven or earth could get him to leave now.

  “You might have to hold me on my horse,” he said. “I’m that tired.”

  “I’ll hold you forever, Mr. Jamison.”

  Chapter 10

  Savannah stared at the cream-colored gown her mother held up. “That will never fit me.” Mama was more buxom, wider in the hips. While Savannah wasn’t rail thin, she didn’t possess her mother’s curves.

  “We’ll alter it, add a bit of new lace. It will be the perfect wedding dress.” Mama gave a smug smile. “Who knew that my proposition to save your reputation would end with the two of you falling in love. Divine providence!”

  Savannah grinned. If Mama wanted to believe she had a hand in her and Wyatt falling in love, then so be it. She wasn’t too far off. If she hadn’t hired Wyatt, Savannah would be selling the ranch and the two of them would be making a new start somewhere else. As it was, the taxes were paid, to a new—and honest—banker. She had no doubts that, with Wyatt beside her, the taxes would be paid every year.

  It had been a trial for sure, but God worked it for good. She fingered the yellowed lace on the sleeve of the gown. “It will be perfect, Mama. I want to get married here, at the ranch, so Irma and the others can attend.”

  “People will talk.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Mama gave a nod, then another. “You know … I don’t care either. Our new friends have been a godsend. It’s wonderful to live as we were meant to and to have someone to converse with when you’re out doing unladylike activities.”

  Savannah had witnessed another miracle. The softening of her mother’s heart and the opening of her mind. A bright future loomed before them all.

  “Of course,” Mama added, making Savannah rethink her new views on Mama’s thoughts, “once you’re married, Wyatt can take over the outside chores completely, leaving you to do as a lady should.”

  “I fully intend this marriage to be a partnership in all aspects, Mama. I cannot sit and sew all day or sip tea. I’d be committed to an asylum within six months.” She retrieved a pair of scissors from Mama’s sewing basket. “Shall I start snipping?”

  “Not on your life.” Mama clutched the dress to her chest. “You’ll ruin it. Leave the sewing to me.” Her look clearly said that if Savannah spent more time at the sewing machine, she could be trusted with such important matters.

  “I’m going to check on the new foal.” Savannah left and headed to the barn where Bullet was now a daddy. The little red baby with black feet looked just like his papa.

  “I hope to be a mama someday,” she said, kneeling next to the wobbly legged foal. “A little boy who looks just like his pa, as you do.”

  “I’m hoping for a girl that looks like her mama.” Wyatt peered over the top of the stall, his folded arms resting on the edge.

  “Your sling is gone.” Savannah grinned. “We can get married.”

  “This instant, if you want.” He winked.

  She couldn’t believe she was contemplating it. “No, Mama is looking forward to inviting the entire church. She has agreed to let us hold the ceremony here.”

  “That’s a big step for her. How do folks spread the word around these parts?”

  She laughed, pushing to her feet. “Tell one person and it will spread like wildfire. I need a few things from the mercantile. I’ll tell a couple of loose-lipped people. We’ll have quite the crowd.”

  “I’ll ride with you and visit the preacher.” He stepped around the wall and drew her into his arms. “I can’t wait for Saturday.”

  “So, it’s Saturday?” Her heart leaped.

  “And not a day longer. I want to attend church on Sunday as husband and wife.”

  “Let’s take the wagon. I know Mama will have a list. It’s been awhile since we’ve been able to stock the pantry, and with guests coming—” The ladies of the church would be more than happy to provide the food, but Mama insisted on making a cake.

  Hand in hand, they strolled back to the house. Savannah couldn’t imagine life being any better. She glanced at the cabins where Lincoln’s and Lee’s little ones played. Someday, her children would play right alongside them.

  “I’m glad I didn’t fight Mama and race Bullet.”

  “Why?” Wyatt glanced down at her. “You would have won.”

  She shrugged. “What if I had fallen? I could have been killed.” She nestled against him. “Then I wouldn’t be marrying you.”

  “I didn’t think you were prone to worrying.”

  “I’m not, but I am good at looking backward and seeing what might have happened.” She laughed.

  After she retrieved the list of items Mama needed, Wyatt helped Savannah into the wagon. With the flick of the reins, he sent them toward town.

  She glanced at his serious expression. “What’s wrong?”

  “You aren’t the only one thinking backward today. When I think of what could have happened with Morrillton—” He cleared his throat.

  She put her hand on his arm. “You rescued me. Even injured, you came.”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “I think you would have managed.”

  “Oh, definitely, but it’s always nice to know someone will come for you even when they’re severely injured.”

  He grasped her hand. “Always. Just please try to stay out of trouble. I’d like us to grow old together, sitting on those rockers on the porch.”

  “No guarantees, but I’ll do my best.” She gave his hand a squeeze. Growing old with him sounded wonderful.

  He dropped her off at the mercantile with the promise to return in half an hour. Smiling, warmed with love, Savannah pushed open the door. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Warren.”

  “Savannah!” The portly woman bustled around the counter. “How are you after your ordeal?”

  “Just fine. I’m marrying Mr. Jamison on Saturday. Will you spread the word? The ceremony will be at the ranch.”

  “You bet I will.” She wiggled her fingers. “Let me have your list while you go browse the ready-mades and see what you wa
nt for a gift.”

  Savannah made a beeline for the children’s shoes. “I need nine pairs of these, and I’m willing to pay for them.”

  “For your workers?”

  She turned at the woman’s bitter tone. “No, for their children.” She fixed a stern look on the woman. “They can’t help the color of their skin, no more than we can. If it bothers you, I can order through the mail.”

  “No, I’m sorry. You know I lost my son and husband in that war.”

  “And I lost a brother.”

  “You’re a good girl, Savannah. The rest of us can learn from you. Take the shoes. They’re on the house, my first step toward forgiveness.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Warren.” Savannah rushed over and pulled the woman into a hug. “So much death, so much hatred. But, together, we can help change people’s minds, don’t you think?”

  The older woman sniffed. “Yes. Now let me fill this order so you can get married.”

  Married. What a wonderful word.

  Saturday dawned bright and sunny. Warm for the beginning of fall, but the day wouldn’t be unbearable under the oak trees where Lincoln and Lee set up benches for the guests to sit.

  “Get away from the window,” Mama scolded. “Wyatt will see you.”

  “I’m not in my wedding gown yet.”

  “Even worse. You’re in your underclothes.”

  Savannah sighed and let the drapes fall into place. “The dress is beautiful, Mama.” Cream-colored lace cascaded from the sleeves and high collar. A brooch winked from the neckline. “I’ll look like royalty.”

  “I’m pleased to see you wearing the same dress I married your pa in. It’s as if he is here with us.”

  “He isn’t the only one here with you.”

  Savannah gasped and turned. “Luke!” She threw her arms around her brother, who looked every bit the stranger in clothes that fell from his too thin frame, and a face thick with a dark beard. “Oh, Luke.” Tears poured down her cheeks.

  “I came just in time to give you away.” His arms wrapped around her.

  “Where were you?” Mama asked, a hand clutched to her chest. “We feared you dead.”

  “A prisoner for a while. Then I wandered a bit, letting go of ghosts.” He glanced around the room. “It’s good to be back.”

  “Irma!” Mama yelled. “My boy is home. He needs a shave.”

  “I didn’t come alone. Hold on.” Luke ducked out of the room and returned with a young black man. “I spotted a poster looking for this boy. I ran across him in my travels. Mama, Savannah, this is—”

  “Abraham?” Irma dropped the porcelain bowl of water. It shattered on the floor seconds before she crumbled.

  Savannah hefted the hem of her dress and raced from the house and into the bunkhouse. Wyatt turned from the washstand. “What is it?”

  “You found him.” She smiled through her tears. “You found Lincoln and Irma’s son.”

  “Well, Luke did, actually.” He grinned through his shaving cream. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

  “My brother is home, too. Oh, Wyatt, this day is perfect.”

  “I’ll meet them after we’re wed. Go on back to the house before your mother has a conniption.”

  Savannah nodded and, careful to keep her dress from trailing in the dirt, stepped into the yard. She glanced toward heaven. “Thank You, God. I know You can’t send Pa back to us, but I hope he is watching from his heavenly home and that he is proud of me.”

  She returned to the parlor where Irma and Lincoln cried over their son and Mama carefully shaved the beard from Luke’s face. Savannah hovered in the door, taking in God’s goodness in fulfilling His promises. From outside came the sound of buggies arriving and the chatter of voices ready to celebrate.

  “You let Wyatt see you, didn’t you?” Mama frowned.

  “I had to thank him for reuniting a family. Besides, no bad luck can come from such a perfect day.”

  Once Luke looked himself, albeit a lot skinnier and dressed in the only suit of Pa’s still hanging in the closet, he crooked his arm. “Ready, little sister?”

  “I am, big brother.” She slipped her arm in his. “I can’t wait for you to meet Wyatt. You’ll love him.”

  “Since you do, I already do. It takes a special man to win your heart and keep this ranch afloat. Mama told me what he’s done with the cattle and horses. He sounds like a good man.”

  “He is.” She beamed up at him. “With the three of us running this place, we can’t fail.”

  They stepped onto the porch. It seemed as if the entire town was seated on the benches provided. Lincoln and the others grinned from the shade of a tree. On the feet of the workers’ children were new, shiny shoes.

  Everyone Savannah cared about, everyone that helped make this moment possible, was here. She knew without a doubt that Pa smiled down from heaven.

  From the front of the crowd, Wyatt, resplendent in a gray suit, grinned in her direction. Savannah’s joy overflowed. With one more glance at her brother, she took her first step toward her groom.

  Luke placed her hand in Wyatt’s. “Take care of her, sir.”

  “With my life.” Wyatt’s eyes shimmered. “She’s the most precious thing I have.”

  Together, they turned to face the preacher. “Dearly Beloved …”

  Savannah barely heard the rest of the preacher’s words, so engrossed was she on her groom. She responded when prompted, laughed when one of the men cheered, and cried tears of joy when they were pronounced man and wife.

  “You may kiss your bride,” the preacher said.

  Wyatt dipped her over his arm and laid a heated kiss on her lips. More cheers arose. When Savannah straightened, she knew her face had to be as red as an apple.

  “I introduce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Wyatt Jamison.”

  They’d come through so much. One trial after another strove to keep Savannah and Wyatt apart, not to mention the loss of the ranch. But, together, with God’s grace, they’d come out the other side stronger than before.

  Savannah slipped her hand into her husband’s and smiled. She couldn’t wait to see what the future held.

  Cynthia Hickey grew up in a family of storytellers and moved around the country a lot as an army brat. Her desire is to write about real but flawed characters in a wholesome way that her seven children and five grandchildren can all be proud of. She and her husband live in Arizona where Cynthia is a full-time writer.

  A Family Inheritance

  by Lisa Karon Richardson

  Chapter 1

  San Francisco, California

  May, 1883

  Anne Shepherd nibbled on the tip of one silk-gloved finger as she craned to see the length of the railroad track.

  “You’re going to chew clean through that glove.” Lottie, her maid, stood next to her on the platform.

  “Then I’ll buy a dozen more.”

  “But none of those gloves will be here to help you make a good impression on your aunt.”

  “Mm.” This indisputable logic swayed Anne where anything flimsier would have failed. She resorted to twisting her fingers together instead. “What is taking so long? The train should have been here ages ago.”

  “It’s exactly two minutes late.”

  “I guess you have a point.” Anne’s fingers drifted to her mouth again and she jerked them away. “I was hoping it would be early.”

  “Which is why we’ve been waiting for near on an hour.” Lottie looked past Anne’s shoulder. “Wait. Is that steam from the engine?”

  Anne held her hands up in surrender. “I understand. I’m being ridiculous. Wishing for the train won’t make it come any faster.”

  “No, really.” Lottie turned her around. “I think that plume of smoke is from the train.”

  Anne gasped. “I think you’re right.” She glanced in both directions to make sure no potentially disapproving officials were nearby then hopped off the platform and put a hand to the track. The metal vibrated beneath her fingers. “It’s comin
g.” She held up her hand and with Lottie’s help scrambled back up on the platform. “Oh, feathers. I didn’t think that through. Did I get anything on my dress?” She fluffed her skirts, trying to inspect the beautifully rich damask of claret red for spots. It would be just like her …

  “Spin.”

  Anne obediently made a slow turn.

  “No. Looks just fine.” Lottie gave a critical squint at Anne’s hair and tucked back one of the flyaway auburn strands. She frowned and gave Anne’s jaunty little hat a tug.

  Anne yelped. “For heaven’s sake, it’s pinned in place.”

  “I wanted to make sure.”

  Anne smoothed down her skirt and found to her astonishment that her hands were trembling. Other than shivering with cold, which didn’t count, she didn’t think she’d ever trembled before. “I do look all right?”

  “That’s your nicest dress. And you in it is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Thanks, Lottie.” Anne squeezed her hand.

  The rumble of the train was audible now, and its low tidal swell was pierced by a scream from the steam whistle. Intermittent squeals came from the brakes as the train began to slow for its entrance to the station. Steam billowed around its wheels. At last the great metal bully shouldered its way alongside the platform.

  Anne took a few running steps alongside it. Then, clasping her hands, she waited more decorously for it to come to a full stop. The porter slid a step alongside the door and passengers began to disembark. A pair of prim Mormon ladies in plain cotton dresses were followed by a cross-looking old man with impressive muttonchop whiskers. Behind them an exceptionally tall fellow with dark, slightly curly hair and moderate sideburns emerged. One leg was wrapped in a mass of bandages, and he looked weary enough to drop. Immediately after he hobbled his way off the train he reached back to help the passenger who had been waiting somewhat less than patiently for him to descend the stairs. This was an older lady with streaks of steel gray in her tightly reined hair. She was dressed head to toe in black that seemed not so much to absorb light, as repel it. On second glance this lady was younger than she first appeared, and Anne chalked them up to a mother and son.