Her mouth parted and a lump rose in her throat. “And how many votes do you think a wife like me will get you?” Her body trembled along with her voice. “I can tell you right now. None!”
“I don’t care about the election—”
“But I do, Brock. This town needs a judge like you. And what better way to honor your friend’s memory? Maybe then you’ll forgive yourself for his death.”
Pain filled his eyes. “Grace—”
She shook her head and reached for the doorknob. “Please, just go.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
GRACE GATHERED THE LAST OF THE NEWLY LAID EGGS from the henhouse and walked across the yard. White puffy clouds played peekaboo with the sun. The vanilla smell of Ponderosa filled the air, and a raucous jay called out from the highest branches.
Galloping hooves signaled Jesse’s return. Surprised to see him home so early, she set the egg basket on the porch and waited for him to tether his horse.
Something wasn’t right; he looked like he’d lost his best friend.
“Jesse?”
Without saying a word, he rushed past her and into the house.
She followed him inside. Finding him facedown on his bed, she sat on the edge of his mattress and rubbed his back.
“What’s wrong?”
He answered her in a muffled voice. “Mr. Moses said I can’t be his campaign manager anymore.”
“Why not?”
“He says he’s not running for judge.”
She drew her hand away. “But he has to . . . I mean . . .”
“Says it’s no use. No one’s gonna vote for him anyway.”
Her lips parted in dismay. Because of her? Oh please, God, don’t let it be because of her. Brock’s plan to run for judge and bring law and order to the town was the one good thing that came out of the whole nightmare of her trial. It wouldn’t change the past, but maybe—just maybe—it would help lessen some of the pain. It was this hope that made his dream her dream as well.
“I’ll talk to him.” She hadn’t the slightest idea what she could say to change his mind, but she had to try. “Hitch Brownie to the wagon.”
Jesse looked up, beaming.
Never had she seen anyone change moods so quickly. She stared at him a moment before rushing out of his room to change.
Arriving in town, Grace left Jesse to park the wagon while she stormed into Brock’s office.
He looked up from his desk and didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see her. “Morning, Grace.”
Ignoring the way the sight of him made her heart leap, she lit into him. “What’s this I hear about you not running for judge?”
“I guess Jesse told you.”
“How could you?” She stabbed the desk with her finger. “This town needs you. It needs a judge who is fair and cares about justice.”
“Yes, it does, but I’m not sure I’m the right person.”
Surprised, she drew back. “How can you say that? How can you even think it?”
“I’ve been talking to people. Not sure I’ll get enough votes.”
“Because of me?” He didn’t answer; he didn’t have to. “Why, there’s no one more qualified and more capable and more trustworthy and more—” She’d almost added kind and good and handsome.
He grinned. “Don’t let me stop you.”
She folded her arms and glowered at him. “Why do I get the feeling that you and Jesse are up to something?”
He didn’t deny it. Instead, his mouth curved and humor warmed the depth of his eyes. “I want to show you something.” He stood and walked around his desk. “Outside.”
Puzzled, she followed him through the waiting room and out the front door. Much to her shock the street that had been deserted moments earlier was now packed with people. She recognized most but not all from the trial. Some she recognized from church.
She whirled around to face Brock. “What’s going on?”
“You’ll see.” He addressed the crowd. “As you all know, I’ve been running for judge,” he said. “But before I continue with my campaign, I need to know how many votes I can count on.”
“You can count on my vote,” Jesse said.
“The kid’s too young to vote,” someone yelled from the back.
“Yeah, well, I’m sure not voting for you,” Reverend Fields said, causing Grace to gasp in shock. Jesse covered his mouth to hide his smile. “You aren’t married,” the reverend went on, “and unless you know the trials of having a wife, you know nothing about law and order.” Mrs. Fields gave her husband a playful poke with her elbow, and the churchwomen standing next to her laughed.
“Object-shun,” Tall Pete said, but he raised his hand anyway.
“Not married, you say?” Brock locked Grace in his gaze. “What if I was to ask this woman to be my bride? Who would vote for me then?”
Her mouth dropped open. Before she could react, all hands shot up, including the sheriff’s and Reverend Fields’s.
Just then, a young, thin voice rose. “Extra, extra, read all about it! Philadelphia lawyer to take a wife!”
Brock looked just as surprised as Grace did. Her mind whirled. Acceptance shone from every face peering at her. Overwhelmed, she turned and rushed away.
Brock caught up with her just as she reached her horse and wagon. He grabbed her by the wrist.
She pulled her arm away. “You tricked me!”
“I had nothing to do with the newspaper—”
“I’m not talking about the newspaper.” She tossed a nod to the crowd still gathered in the middle of the street. “I’m talking about them. I don’t like being tricked, especially to win an election.”
He drew back. “Is that what you think this is about? The election?” He turned her around to face the crowd.
“What do you see?” Brock murmured in her ear. When she made no reply, he continued, “I’ll tell you what I see. I see people trying to make up for past mistakes. Make up for misjudging you. Make up to Jesse.”
Her gaze swung to where her son stood and her heart swelled. Jesse definitely looked like he belonged. This was clearly his town, his home. A warm glow flowed through her.
“They’re not voting for me,” Brock continued. “They’re voting for you. They’re voting to make this a more lawful town. A less prejudiced one. That’s what I wanted you to know.” He spun her around in his arms. “Could you find it in your heart to forgive this Philadelphia lawyer?”
She looked up at him and all the hurts of the past melted away in the heat of his gaze. How could she not forgive the man who stood by her side in her darkest hour? “Philadelphia lawyer, no. Colorado judge, yes.”
His hold tightened. “Does that mean what I think it means?”
Glancing at the waiting crowd, she drew in a deep breath. She’d made so many mistakes in the past, but only because she’d acted out of fear. It was fear that had made her rush in to all three of her marriages, but this time fear held her back. She couldn’t bear to make another devastating mistake.
She swung her gaze to Brock. “You once said that marriage is a gift from God.”
He sucked in his breath. “It is. As long as two people love each other and make Him the head of the family.”
“Do . . . do you think God means the gift of marriage for the two of us?”
He studied her, and the love shining from his eyes made her want to believe that even someone like her could find true happiness.
“I’m sure of it,” he said, his voice husky. “I also believe that loving and cherishing each other will be our gift back to Him.”
Loving and cherishing Brock, now that she could do. She reached up and pressed a hand to his cheek. He was real; she wasn’t dreaming. “You better watch out. I might take you up on that offer.” She blushed.
“Might?” With a glance at the watching crowd, he took her hand in his and pulled her into his office. Kicking the door shut with his foot, he backed her against the wall in full embrace.
He gazed at
her intently. “I love you, Grace Davenport, and if you’d like, I’d be happy to put on a good closing argument as to why you should love me back.”
She laughed. “That won’t be necessary. I already love you,” she whispered. “I really, really do!”
His eyes flared as he pulled her close. The moment their lips met, church bells rang out the noon hour—the voice of God, as Reverend Fields called them, the voice of new beginnings.
EPILOGUE
THE TRAIN WAS LATE ARRIVING IN PHOENIX AND Reverend Gregory Miller was bone tired, no thanks to the four pastors who kept him up during an all-night session with their tales of unlikely couples.
“Yoo-hoo!”
At the sound of the familiar voice, he spun around. Much to his surprise, Elizabeth stood on the other side of the train platform waving not just one arm but both. He blinked. Today she was wearing a knee-high skirt over—could it be?—trousers?
Despite her unconventional dress he had to smile when, instead of walking quietly, sedately, ladylike toward him, she ran. Her hat flew off, but no sooner had she stopped to retrieve it than she was running again. Her loose red hair flew every which way, the ribbons on her hat trailing behind.
People stared as she raced by. He had to admit, she was a sight to behold. She came to a stop in front of him, all rosy-cheeked and out of breath.
“Welcome home.”
“Elizabeth, so good to see you. But what are you doing here?”
Clearly surprised by the question, she lifted her chin. “Surely you didn’t forget sending a telegram to the church asking me to meet your train?”
“Telegram? What—?” A thought occurred to him. Was it possible that his new friends had sent the telegram in his name?
“Ah, the telegram.”
She looked at him funny. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, just tired. It was a long week. We had some late-night sessions, and I didn’t get any sleep on the train.”
She stared at him for a moment as if waiting for him to . . . what? Grow wings?
“The wagon’s parked over there.” She sounded hurt or maybe just confused.
“I’ll get my baggage.”
She hesitated. “You said you wanted to talk.”
“I did?”
Her eyes flashed. “Yes, in the telegram that you obviously don’t remember sending.”
His busybody colleagues would have a laugh if they could see him now, silenced by the woman he loved.
“We can . . . talk.” But what more was there to say? He’d already told her why the two of them wouldn’t work out. For a man whose job it was to give oratory, he felt oddly out of words.
Her face turned red and her nostrils thinned. “Why do I get the feeling that—?” She stared at him. “Never mind.”
He reached for her arm. “Elizabeth, please—”
She pulled away. “Don’t say another word. We’re done. From now on, I’m . . . I’m attending the Methodist church!”
“You can’t mean—” But before he could complete his thought, she turned and stomped away.
As he watched her go, his emotions unraveled like a woolen sweater. He thought about Abram and Sarai and Moses and David and before he knew it, his feet were moving.
“Elizabeth, wait!”
People moved out of his way and turned to stare. He could well imagine what they were thinking: a dignified preacher making a spectacle. Oddly enough, he didn’t care.
Nor did he care who saw him take her in his arms.
She stared at him with rounded eyes. “What’s come over you?”
“Nothing.” Everything. Why in the world had it taken him so long to realize what was now as plain as day?
“I want to tell you about some stories I heard. Stories about Maizy and Rylan.” He chuckled as he pressed his lips against her forehead. “And Molly and Jack.” This time he pecked her cute, little nose. “Then there’s Katie and Treb.” He dropped a kiss on her silky-smooth cheek. “And last but not least, I want to tell you about Grace and Brock.”
She looked confused and he couldn’t blame her. “Who . . . who are these people?”
“They’re people God brought together.” He inhaled her sweet fragrance. “They’re people in love, just like you and me.”
She glanced around with a worried frown. “If the deacons see us . . . Your reputation—”
“Let them look. If they don’t like it, let them join the Methodists.”
She studied him for a moment as if to make certain he meant what he said. Then with a whoop and a holler, she threw her arms around his neck. His face blazed hot as the burning bush, but that didn’t stop him from pulling her close and kissing her pretty pink lips.
Praise be to God—and those new, busybody friends of his—for showing him that even the unlikeliest of couples can find true happiness.
Reading Group Guides
Spitfire Sweetheart
1. Women in the 1800s lived within very strict rules. In Spitfire Sweetheart Maizy wearing britches is truly scandalous. These days anything goes. Discuss the pros and cons of being bound by these types of conventions.
2. Rylan is afraid of failing. Despite his tough attitude he is anxious to prove himself to his father, and that motivates his actions. Do you think Rylan took this upon himself or that his father put that pressure on him?
3. Talk about parental pressure to succeed and how children can respond positively and negatively to that pressure. What kind of parent are you? What kind of parents do you have?
4. Maizy’s father needs her help around the ranch but he’s also ashamed of her for behaving in manly ways—at least when it gets her in trouble. Talk about how Maizy’s father affects her compared to how Rylan’s father affects him.
A Love Letter to the Editor
1. Molly is hurt and angered because she was passed over for the position as editor. Was she right to feel this way? Do you think her father had good reasons for the decision he made?
2. Jack isn’t put-off by Molly’s outspoken ways, but sometimes the amusement and pleasure he feels around her make Molly think he is laughing at her. Have you ever felt that way? How did you handle it?
3. Molly’s mother tells her that “love can be quite an adventure.” Have past hurts made you try to protect your heart and avoid the adventure?
4. Both Molly and Jack seek the wise counsel of Reverend Lynch. Do you agree with the guidance he gives them? Why or why not?
A Cowboy for Katie
1. In A Cowboy for Katie, Katie is determined to fix herself. She is so independent that she literally runs everyone off. Is it possible to be too independent? Discuss reasons why your or someone else would refuse help (e.g., pride, fear, etc.) and why that might not be the best choice.
2. Treb has a plan for his life and believes he’s got everything under control. But when his horse dies and leaves him stranded, Treb accepts the job with Katie, fully intending to use the job as a way to get back on track with his plans . . . only God has other plans for Treb. What issues of his past must he face as he helps Katie face her issues?
3. Katie and Treb both think they know what they need, but God is the one with the right plan. They just have to recognize it, overcome their fears, and trust Him. Have you ever had to do this in your own life?
Courting Trouble
1. Brock appears to be ill-suited for the town, but as the story progresses, God’s purpose in bringing him to Colorado becomes clear. Have you ever felt that you didn’t belong? In what way did this affect your faith and relationship to God?
2. Grace made many mistakes in her life, but she admits she did so out of fear. Has fear ever held you back or caused you to make mistakes you later regretted?
3. Reverend Fields tells Brock that saving Grace might well be his saving grace. What do you think he means by that?
4. Jesse’s persistence shows Brock how much he believes in his mother’s innocence. In what ways has persistence paid off in your own life?
5. Wh
ich character did you most identify with? Why?
Acknowledgments
IT’S AMAZING HOW MANY PEOPLE IT TAKES TO PRODUCE a book. We can’t thank our editor, Ami McConnell, enough and the whole Thomas Nelson/HarperCollins Christian Publishing team for the loving care they gave our stories. Also, special thanks to our terrific agent, Natasha Kern, who came up with the idea of us working together. Finally, we want to thank our readers for all the nice things they said about our first group effort, A Bride for All Seasons. Four bouquets and a kiss to you all!
—ROBIN, MARY, DEBRA, AND MARGARET
About the Authors
NEW YORK TIMES BEST-SELLING AUTHOR MARGARET BROWNLEY has penned more than thirty novels. Her books have won numerous awards, including Readers’ Choice and Award of Excellence. She’s a former Romance Writers of American RITA finalist and has written for a TV soap. Happily married to her real-life hero, Margaret and her husband have three grown children and live in Southern California. www.margaretbrownley.com
DEBRA CLOPTON IS A MULTI-AWARD-WINNING NOVELIST who was first published in 2005 and has more than twenty-two novels to her credit. Along with her writing, Debra helps her husband teach the youth at their local Cowboy Church. Debra is the author of the acclaimed Mule Hollow Matchmaker series, the place readers tell her they wish were real. Her goal is to shine a light toward God while she entertains readers with her words.
BEST-SELLING NOVELIST ROBIN LEE HATCHCHER IS KNOWN for her heartwarming and emotionally charged stories of faith, courage, and love. The winner of the Christy Award for Excellence in Christian Fiction, the RITA Award for Best Inspirational Romance, the Carol Award, two Romantic Times Career Achievement Awards, and the RWA Lifetime Achievement Award, Robin is the author of more than seventy novels.
MARY CONNEALY WRITES ROMANTIC COMEDY WITH cowboys. She is a Carol Award winner, and a RITA, Christy, and Inspirational Reader’s Choice finalist. She is the author of the best-selling Kincaid Brides series: Out of Control, In Too Deep, Over the Edge; Lassoed in Texas trilogy; Montana Marriages trilogy; and Sophie’s Daughters trilogy. Mary is married to a Nebraska rancher and has four grown daughters and two spectacular grandchildren.
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