by Lydia Olson
“What about you?” Sarah asked. “How are you feeling about everything?”
“Better than I ever have,” David said. “All is finally coming together. I just wish my uncle could be around to see it.”
“He would be proud of you, David. I just know it.”
“I would’ve liked for him to see the changes we made to the property,” David said, gesturing to the house’s new sage green paint job, which complemented the resplendently colored flowerbeds that were sprouting throughout the ranch, thanks to Sarah’s green thumb that a certain Mrs. Farley helped her acquire.
“I’m positive he would,” Sarah said. “I have no doubt about it.”
David turned and took Sarah by the hands. “Well,” he said, “when my parents arrive in a couple of weeks, I think they’ll enjoy what I’ve done with the place.”
Sarah’s eyes went wide. “Your parents are coming to town?” She asked. “That’s wonderful! I’m very much looking forward to meeting them.”
“I think they will too,” David said as he reached into his pocket. “After all,” he said, producing a small wooden ring box and holding it up, “they might be meeting their new daughter-in-law.”
All the love and joy Sarah could hope to feel welled up inside of her. She was speechless, elated at what was being presented, and put her hands over her face as her eyes began to fill with tears of joy.
David got down on one knee as Sara beamed from ear to ear. He opened the box, where a small gold band with a tiny diamond nestled in the center rested inside.
“Sarah Harris,” David said. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my entire life. You have brought me so much joy, so much hope that I never before thought was possible. I cannot imagine living alongside anyone else. You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, and I want to spend each and every day showing you that. I love you, Sarah Harris. And I don’t want to live a minute without you.”
Sarah still said nothing. She was happy beyond measure, and she was more than ready to have the beautiful ring that David held out placed on her finger.
“Sarah,” David said, “will you—?”
“Yes!” she cried out as she wrapped her arms around David and kissed him. She broke the embrace, and then David placed the ring on her finger.
The two stood and held each other as the sun began its final descent in the distance. Not a word was spoken, and not a word needed to be spoken. They were happy, they were set to be wed and live the rest of their lives together. All was perfect, and in that moment, Sarah and David felt like the journey they embarked on in that stagecoach so long ago had finally ended, only to welcome them to the rest of their lives together, forever, and happily ever after.
THE END?
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The Sheriff’s Daring Wife in the West
STAND-ALONE NOVEL
A Western Historical Romance Novel
by
Lydia Olson
Blurb
This marriage of convenience turned out to be the best choice in their lives. But is their love enough to fight off injustice in town?
Rose’s life turned upside down the moment her mother passed away Becoming a mail-order bride is the only logical solution if she wants to lead the life she wants. Along with her step-sister Anna, they both answer ads to different frontier states. Rose accepts Benjamin’s invitation, a reserved and reclusive Sheriff in the Wild West. While Rose has to manage herself around the ranch, she realizes that Benjamin is a deeply scarred soul that needs mending. How will she help him find the salvation he needs by letting himself open to her never-ending love?
Benjamin is a strong-willed sheriff and a man of action. He was always struggling with reading and writing. His lifelong dream is to run for mayor and this is why he’s looking a clever and suitable companion—with a wife by his side the townspeople will trust him more. His mail-order bride is all this and so much more—with Rose by his side he realizes that only through love can he become the man he wants to be. How will he finally trust his heart and let go of his trauma in order to fully devote himself to her?
The elections are close, and Rose will do anything in her power to prepare Benjamin run for mayor. However, when Anna, Rose’s sister, arrives at their ranch barely escaping death, Benjamin is the only man capable enough of protecting his family. How will they let themselves love each other when each of their moves is being closely watched?
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Prologue
Rose Higgins bounced up the steps to her mother’s bedchamber tightly hugging a rectangular parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.
“What have you got there, Rose?” Anna, her dearly beloved stepsister asked with a curious grin as Rose reached her on the landing.
“It’s a gift for Mamma,” she replied, returning Anna’s grin with an even bigger one. “Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women. I just know it’ll make her feel better to hear me read it out loud to her.”
“Is it new?” Anna asked, her eyes justifiably wide.
“No, almost new,” Rose said, “but it’s what’s inside that matters most.” She couldn’t wait to unwrap the hefty volume and begin reading it to her dear Mamma. She had searched all over the city, even into the tiniest, dingiest book exchanges, until she at long last found a copy of her mother’s favorite novel.
“You know Father won’t approve,” Anna said, her voice becoming hushed.
“I know,” Rose replied softly, “He’ll get over it in time.”
Rose beckoned to Anna as she carefully turned the knob on her mother’s bedroom door and entered the dimly lit room. She stepped over to the window and pulled the drapes back, letting in the late afternoon sun.
“Mamma, we brought you a surprise,” she said with a smile, stepping closer to the bed. Her mother’s face seemed even paler, now, than it ever had since she had fallen ill two weeks ago, and Rose’s words were greeted with a hollow silence. Her mother did not open her eyes, she didn’t even cough––something she had been doing a lot of lately. The silence felt suddenly like a deafening roar in Rose’s ears.
Anna came to stand on the other side of the bed as Rose placed a hand on her mother’s shoulder and shook her gently. “Mamma, wake up,” she said, afraid to speak too loudly and rouse her with a fright. There was no response.
“Mamma? Wake up!” she said again, louder this time, shaking her shoulder with more urgency.
There was still no response and she stepped back in confusion, her mind unwilling to accept what her senses were telling her. It was then that she saw the dark red stain on the handkerchief in her mother’s hand and fear clutched at her heart with icy fingers. The precious book slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor with a crash. “Anna! Go fetch Doctor McGee! Quick!”
***
October in Frederick, Maryland was Rose’s favorite time of the year. At least, it always had been––until now. She loved the red oaks and sweetgums the most of all the trees that set the city and the nearby Appalachian Mountains alight with their brilliant crimson, amber, an
d gold foliage.
Not even the dull gray skies could smother the vibrant fall hues. They had always been the one thing that could lift Rose’s spirits without fail. But from now on she would remember them with a different emotion. She stared blankly at the handful of scarlet leaves she held uncertainly at her waist. Mother had loved this time of year, too. If only she could have tarried a little longer to share it with her just one more time.
The sound of the preacher’s voice filtered through her disconsolate thoughts. “‘For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.’ The word of the Lord.”
“Thanks be to God,” Rose said, more out of habit than anything else. She felt Anna’s hand on her arm and turned her head to look into her dear, sweet stepsister’s eyes. Her own eyes were brimming with unshed tears. She could scarcely bring herself to whisper the words of the Twenty-Third Psalm as someone struck up an accordion and the small gathering around the graveside began to sing.
Rose was vaguely aware of her stepfather standing on the far side of Anna as four of the small congregation’s men began to slowly lower the plain pine coffin into the earth. She wanted to reach out to him for mutual consolation, but felt herself shrinking back. He did not seem to want to share his pain with anyone, least of all her, and it made her reticent to share hers with him.
“Yea, though I walk in death’s dark vale, yet will I fear no ill,” Rose sang bravely, having recovered her voice by the time the third verse rolled around. She wasn’t feeling particularly fearless. Apart from Anna––who she was convinced was nothing less than an angel sent by God himself––she felt suddenly all alone in the world.
As Rose uttered the last words of the hymn, her mother’s widower took a step forward and scooped up a handful of dirt from the mound beside the open grave. Sprinkling it on the coffin, he said brusquely, “Rest in peace, Elizabeth Hyde,” and turned away. His tone was impassive, his eyes veiled, his face grim, almost as if he begrudged her passing, rather than mourned it.
Rose felt Anna’s gentle nudge against her arm. “It’s our turn, Sis,” she said softly.
Stepping forward to the edge of the grave, Rose held out her hands and let the leaves fall gently into her mother’s last resting place on Earth.
“I don’t know why you had to go, Mamma,” she whispered, her heart constricting painfully. “All I know is that I miss you horribly already.”
Chapter One
The old house creaked and moaned under the onslaught of the restless summer wind. Somewhere a loose board banged against the wall. The darkness was so thick Rose almost felt like she could reach out and take a handful of it. She paused at the bottom of the steps, squeezing Anna’s hand so that her sister would know not to run into her.
Rose’s ears strained for sounds that might be hidden beneath the incessant banging of the loose board. Ah. There it was. The sound of deep snoring that could only be made by a man lulled to sleep by copious amounts of alcohol. It seemed to be coming from the living room.
In her mind’s eye, Rose saw their path to the front door and prayed that their passing by would not wake her sleeping stepfather. Heaven knew, the house had fallen to such disrepair in the last nine months, there was no telling when a floorboard would give way under them, let alone creak. At least there was not much furniture they needed to fear running into, since Albert Hyde had sold almost every single piece they owned, besides the bare minimum––beds, chairs, the settee, and one broken down sideboard.
“What’s wrong, Rose?” Anna’s whispered question in her ear made her jump. “Are we still going?”
Rose turned to face her sister. “Yes, step exactly where I do, and breathe as softly as you can,” she whispered. “Father’s asleep in the living room.”
She imagined, more than saw, Anna nodding in silent agreement, then turned and took her first tentative step toward freedom. Images of the past nine months since her mother’s death flashed through her mind, as if her very thoughts feared she might relent and stay.
“Ain’t I told you a million times, you stupid child, books are a waste of money?” he had screamed at her one night after painting his throat at the local watering hole and finding her with a newly purchased copy of Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland. Tossing the book out onto the snow-covered porch, he had shut the door and grabbed her by the shoulders.
Rose relived the moment as if it had happened yesterday, but it had been only a few weeks after her mother’s funeral, and only the first of many more instances like it. The scene played out before her mind’s eye as she took one careful step after the other.
“You’ve sold all my books already, Father, all of Mamma’s books. I thought if I just got one every so often it wouldn’t matter…” she said, twisting free from his grip and moving toward the door.
“Leave that all-fired book where it is,” he growled menacingly, “or I’ll teach you a lesson, little madam.”
“Father, please,” Rose entreated, reaching for the doorknob, “it’s all I have left of Mamma. Surely you don’t begrudge me that?”
His face twisted into a kind of scary ugliness then that she knew she would never forget. As he lunged at her, she heard Anna come running into the room.
“Father, don’t!” Anna cried out, but her words fell on deaf ears. Rose felt her head whip sideways and then crash against the door as her stepfather delivered a vicious backhand across her cheekbone. She cried out and fell through the doorway, tumbling out onto the porch where her precious book lay soaking up the melting snow.
As she fell, she helplessly watched the man shove his own daughter aside before she could reach Rose’s side, forcing her to crash into the sideboard standing near the front door. Tears sprang to Rose’s eyes as her mind reeled under the attack even more than her body did. She had never been hit by any kind of person before, let alone a grown man.
From that moment on, the battle hadn’t stopped.
Dragging her thoughts back to the present, Rose sidestepped a floorboard she knew was loose and felt Anna adjust her course accordingly. They were halfway. Albert Hyde stirred on the couch and Rose froze in place, barely daring to breathe. He muttered something incoherent that sounded to Rose like, “Good wives,” and resumed his snoring. Once again, her thoughts were transported to the past.
“They’re upstanding members of society and they’re rich. You’ll be well taken care of. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Time to sit around with your nose in your silly books while real life passes by without you.” Albert’s voice was thick with the presence of rye whiskey and bitter contempt.
Rose bit on her lip. Not the left side, though, that was still cut and swollen from the last time she had disagreed with him. She wondered what it was that had kept him from hitting Mamma while she was alive. He had sometimes come home drunk, usually after a very successful week of sales, but never turned violent. Now it was like he was looking for reasons to lash out verbally and physically at every turn.
“I wouldn’t mind working for them to pay back your debts, Father, but being married to someone, well, that’s a very different thing with very different… duties,” she said, squirming internally.
“You wouldn’t mind working for them, now, would you?” her stepfather mocked. “Why, you’ll be working either way, don’t you fret your little head about that. At least if you’re married to them your smart mouth won’t be my problem anymore.”
Rose felt like she had been hit in the stomach. She and Albert Hyde had never become close, but she had never even heard him speaking to an animal like he was speaking to her now. She took a deep breath. By this time she didn’t care too much what he did to her, but what about his own daughter? Would he sell her off to his creditors, just like that, too?
“I’ve always known you don’t care about me, Father, since I’m no
t your own flesh and blood, but Anna? She’s your own, real daughter. How can you sell her off to your creditors for a bride-price? Doesn’t it matter to you what she wants?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and they were still ringing in her ears when the blow came.
Now the other side of her mouth would have a cut and a bruise. She didn’t dare tell anyone what had caused it, though. The neighborhood had come to accept that the girls at the Hyde house had become rather clumsy of late, walking into doors and such. Rose lifted a hand to her lip and drew it away smeared with crimson.
“It’s your turn to cook tonight. Look lively and hop to it, you no-account bookworm,” Albert said, and stomped from the room.
Rose forced herself to focus on the present moment once again. They had reached the front door. Freedom waited on the other side. She put her hand into her coat pocket. The letter was there, written carefully and thoughtfully. As she hesitated, the words came back to her as clear as day. They were etched deeply into her soul.