by Amanda Cabot
Thea pursed her lips, trying to hold the pain at bay, before she continued her story. “Daniel once mentioned that a couple boys at the orphanage decided to teach him a lesson about something and dumped him into an old well. He claimed they intended to let him die there, but the sides were rougher than anyone realized, with some of the stones protruding, so he managed to climb out. Apparently, that impressed the boys so much that they accepted him into their group.”
“I wonder if that’s how he and the Michener boys got together.”
“I don’t know. Daniel never mentioned any names. In fact, that was one of the few times he talked about the orphanage at all. I remember him saying something like ‘We all hated that place and swore we’d never go back.’”
Thea winced. No matter how careful Jackson was trying to be, simply having her feet touched was painful. She looked up at him, focusing on his face rather than her wounds.
“At the time, I didn’t ask Daniel who the ‘we’ were, but when I heard Charity say ‘well’ so often, it struck me that since the orphanage was abandoned, that would be a good hiding place.”
Jackson took the bandage Thea handed him and began to wrap it around her foot. “You’re probably right. I’ll head over there tomorrow morning, once the whole Gang is locked up.” He explained how he’d found Will and Rob in the saloon and that he’d asked Faith to alert Travis.
“I’m not worried about them,” Jackson said when he finished wrapping Thea’s feet, “but much as I hate to leave you here, I want to get Charity into a cell tonight. I don’t trust that woman one bit. From everything I can tell, she was the leader, not Daniel.”
Though Thea shared Jackson’s reluctance for them to be separated, she knew he needed to do his job, and so did she. Ethel and her son still needed Thea. While she wouldn’t be doing much walking, she would continue to monitor their condition.
“You’re right about Charity,” she told Jackson. “She’s an evil woman, and she had every intention of killing me. I knew it was only a matter of time unless something brought you back here before morning.”
Thea glanced at the clock that hung on one wall, amazed that less than an hour had passed since Charity had dragged her to the barn.
“I kept praying for you to come, and while I did, I kept her talking as much as I could. It was a stalling technique. I think Charity knew that as much as I did, but she couldn’t stop gloating about all that she’d accomplished and how they eluded capture for so long.”
Jackson’s expression said that he wasn’t concerned about that right now. “Later. There’ll be time for that later. Right now, there’s only one thing I want to do.” He fixed his gaze on her lips. “The problem is, I made a promise, and my parents taught me never to break my word.”
For a moment, Thea had no idea what Jackson meant. Then she remembered the day he had said he would not kiss her again unless she asked him to. Her sister would tell her it was unseemly, that a lady did not ask for a kiss, at least not in words, but Thea didn’t care. Like Jackson, there was only one thing she wanted to do.
She looked up at him and smiled. “I think we both want the same thing. Will you kiss me, Jackson? Please.”
His smile turned into a grin. “With pleasure.” Still smiling, Jackson reached forward, drawing Thea onto his lap, and pressed his lips to hers.
It was wonderful, simply wonderful. Their first kiss had been unforgettable, but it paled compared to this. While Jackson’s lips were on hers, nothing else mattered. She was safe; she was loved; she was cherished. Her fears were forgotten, and the pain in her feet subsided.
Thea didn’t know how long the kiss lasted. Seconds, minutes, hours—she lost all sense of time. All she knew was that while he held her in his arms and kissed her so sweetly, there was no one in the world except her and Jackson, nothing but this kiss.
When at length they pulled apart, Thea smiled again, knowing that the last barrier between them had been demolished.
“I love you, Jackson.”
Pure joy illuminated his face. “And I love you.”
37
It had been more than twenty-four hours since Thea and Jackson had returned to Cimarron Creek, but the townspeople were still buzzing with all that had happened. Travis now had the three remaining Gang members under arrest. While the town’s sole jail cell was crowded and some residents were questioning the propriety of having Charity locked up with two men, neither Travis nor Jackson was willing to consider any other accommodation. They knew she was the most dangerous of the trio, and so she stayed under constant watch. Travis and Edgar took turns guarding the prisoners while Jackson headed to the former orphanage to learn whether Thea had been correct in guessing the location of the gold.
Others might be out and about, strolling Main Street in hopes of learning something new about the outlaws in their jail, but Thea had not left her home since Jackson had carried her back in Tuesday night. Aimee was still fussing over her, although Thea had managed to walk short distances. Now they sat in the parlor, watching Stuart amuse himself with a gourd rattle.
“He’ll be here as soon as he can.” Aimee’s voice was filled with optimism.
“I know.” Though Thea knew that worrying accomplished nothing, she was unable to suppress her concerns. What if something had happened to Jackson? What if something destroyed the future that had seemed so bright?
“I keep reminding myself I shouldn’t be anxious, but there’s so much I want to tell him.”
Aimee, who’d been standing by the front window, turned and smiled. “It looks like you’ll have your chance. Jackson’s coming up the walk.” She scooped Stuart into her arms. “I’ll let him in, and then Stuart and I’ll be in the kitchen. You two need time alone.”
Seconds later, Jackson entered the parlor, his obvious fatigue warring with his shining eyes. The relief that washed over Thea startled her with its intensity. Jackson was safe. Though a Ranger’s life was always fraught with danger, he’d returned unharmed, and now he was gazing at her as if there was nothing he wanted more than to kiss her. But he did not. Instead, he simply nodded, though the twinkle in his eyes hinted at pleasures to come.
“You were right, Thea,” Jackson said as he took the seat she’d offered. “The gold was at the bottom of that old well. As far as we could tell, it’s all there.” Thea heard the satisfaction in his voice and knew she’d been right in believing that recovering the gold was almost as important to him as capturing the Gang.
Jackson leaned back in the chair, as if trying to relax. “I was surprised, but it seems Daniel didn’t spend any of it.”
Thea wasn’t surprised. “I think he was saving it for the baby and me.” What surprised her was how easy it was to talk about Daniel now. What she’d learned from Charity had lifted the weight that had been a constant burden since the day she’d found the first perfumed shirt. The anger that had simmered for so long had vanished, replaced by a sense of freedom, releasing Thea from the shadows of the past, enabling her to walk boldly into her future. And now that Jackson was here, the future seemed bright.
“The gold is being returned to its owners,” he told her. “Normally, I would have taken it, but Captain Rawlins volunteered. He knew how anxious I was to get back home.”
Thea’s heart began to sing as the word “home” registered, telling her Jackson hadn’t changed his mind about living here.
“He accepted my resignation, so it’s official. I’m a private citizen, and within a month I’ll be Cimarron Creek’s newest rancher, if Austin and I can come to an agreement.”
Though Jackson had claimed that this was what he wanted, Thea couldn’t help saying, “I hope you never regret the decision.”
His reply was instantaneous. “I won’t—not if what I hope is true.”
The way his eyes gleamed made Thea’s heart race, but she had warned herself not to jump to conclusions. She needed to be certain she and Jackson shared the same dreams. “What is it you’re hoping?”
It was o
nly a second before Jackson replied, but Thea felt as if the earth had stopped spinning while she waited for his response.
“What I hope is that you’ve realized the love we share won’t fade and that you’re willing to be my wife.”
Her tender hope had become reality. She and Jackson both wished for a life together. Thea gazed into his eyes, hoping he’d see not only love but confidence shining from hers. The last of her doubts had been swept away by the torrent of her love for Jackson.
“There is nothing I want more than to marry you. The minister in Ladreville used to say that God works in mysterious ways, and he certainly did.” She gestured toward her feet, which were still swaddled in thick bandages. “What happened with Charity showed me how precious life is and that I don’t want to waste another day.”
Thea leaned forward ever so slightly, wanting to bridge the distance between them, but not daring to touch Jackson. Not yet. Not until she’d said everything that needed to be said.
“I love you, Jackson. I love you with all my heart, and I always will. What I feel for you will never fade. I know that now.”
Thea took a shallow breath, remembering the day she had left Ladreville. Though she had tried to convince herself that she wasn’t running away, she had been. She had tried to escape her past, not wanting to admit that it would always be part of her. It was only when she had made peace with the past that she had freed herself to run again—this time toward her future.
As her eyes filled with tears of joy, she nodded. “Yes, my love, I’ll marry you.”
Jackson’s response was everything she had dreamed of. His smile was radiant, as warm as the summer sun, sending ripples of delight down her spine, and his voice resonated with love as he said, “God has answered my prayers. He brought you into my life, and he’s shown me that hopes and dreams can come true.”
The crooked smile that Thea loved so dearly reappeared as Jackson said, “I can’t wait to see what he has in store for us next.”
Thea smiled, for Jackson’s words echoed her innermost thoughts. She’d been blessed. They’d been blessed. And this was only the beginning.
Slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, Jackson raised his hand and caressed her face, his palm cupping her cheek, his finger tracing the outline of her lips.
“I love you, Thea. I always will.” And then, as he bridged the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers, there was no need for words.
Author’s Letter
Dear Reader,
I hope you’ve enjoyed your visits to Cimarron Creek as much as I have. It’s been a privilege to share the town’s stories with you, especially since I know how many other things compete for your valuable time. Thank you for investing your time in my stories! Truly, you’re the reason I write.
The end of a series is always a bittersweet moment for me. As much as I hate leaving a town and the people who’ve become so real to me, I’m also filled with excitement about the next set of stories. Here’s a hint about what’s coming starting next year.
It’s 1856, and life in Mesquite Springs, Texas, a rapidly growing town in the Hill Country, is changing. With the influx of new residents come new businesses—an expanded restaurant, the town’s first newspaper, and a luxurious hotel—as well as new dangers.
Evelyn Radcliffe isn’t looking for love. All she wants is to escape the man who killed her parents and destroyed her home, and so she flees to Mesquite Springs with an orphaned girl, never dreaming that handsome horse rancher Wyatt Clark will hold the key to her past . . . and her future.
I hope I’ve intrigued you. If you’d like a bit more of an introduction, turn a couple pages, and you’ll find the first chapter.
While you wait for that story to be released, I invite you to read my earlier books. If you haven’t read the first two Cimarron Creek stories, now might be the perfect time. Although you know that Lydia and Travis have married, I assure you that the path to happily-ever-after wasn’t an easy one. You’ll find the full story in A Stolen Heart. And if you wondered how Catherine and Austin discovered true love, you won’t want to miss A Borrowed Dream.
I also encourage you to visit my website, www.amandacabot.com. You’ll find information about all of my books there as well as a sign-up form for my newsletter. I promise not to fill your inbox with newsletters, because I only issue one when I have important news to share, but it’s a way for us to keep in touch. I’ve also included links to my Facebook and Twitter accounts as well as my email address.
It’s one of my greatest pleasures as an author to receive notes from my readers, so don’t be shy.
Blessings,
Amanda
DECEMBER 21, 1855
Someone was watching. Though a shiver of dread made its way down her spine, Evelyn Radcliffe kept a smile fixed on her face. No matter how her skin prickled and how every instinct told her to flick the reins and urge the horse to race forward, she wouldn’t do anything to worry the child who sat beside her.
She took a deep breath, then exhaled gradually, trying to slow her pulse, reminding herself that this was not the first time she’d sensed the Watcher. The feeling would diminish when she reached the outskirts of Gilmorton, and by the time she was an hour away, it would have disappeared. It always did. The only thing that made today different was that she was not alone. Today she had a child to protect.
Evelyn took another breath, forcing herself to think about something—anything—other than the danger she’d sensed. It was a beautiful day and an unusually warm one for so close to Christmas. The sun was shining, bringing a genuine smile to her face as she gazed at the now-dormant cotton fields that brought so much wealth to this part of Texas. White gold, she’d heard some call them.
“What’s wrong?”
Evelyn turned toward the girl who looked enough like her to be her sister. While Polly’s hair was silver blonde rather than Evelyn’s golden and her eyes were a lighter shade of blue, she had the same oval face and a thin nose whose tip turned ever so slightly to the right, just as Evelyn’s did. What distinguished them besides the difference in their ages was that Evelyn’s skin was unmarred, while a prominent strawberry-red birthmark on her left cheek destroyed Polly’s hopes of beauty and was likely the reason she’d been abandoned.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Evelyn lied, wishing the child weren’t so sensitive. “I’m just anxious to get home.” They’d be safe there. Logansville was three hours away, far enough that the Watcher had never followed her. But Polly didn’t need to know about the Watcher. Evelyn tickled the girl’s nose. “You know Hilda can’t be trusted to heat stew without scorching it.”
The distraction appeared to have worked, for Polly giggled. “She’s a bad cook. Buster spit out the oatmeal she gave him ’cuz it had lumps. Big lumps.”
Lumpy oatmeal was a better topic than the fear that engulfed Evelyn almost every time she came to Gilmorton. Mrs. Fielding had told her she needed to confront her fears. That was one of the reasons she insisted Evelyn be the one to make these trips. But Mrs. Fielding didn’t know that even ten years later, Evelyn could not bear to look at the building she’d once called home and that she detoured to avoid that block of Main Street. Mrs. Fielding scoffed at the idea that someone was watching, calling it nonsense, but Evelyn knew better. Someone was watching, and it terrified her.
The tension that had coiled inside Evelyn began to release as the town disappeared from view. She wouldn’t have come to Gilmorton if she had had a choice, but unless she was willing to be gone for more than a day each time she made a delivery, there were no other outlets for the lace the children made. Fortunately, the owner of the mercantile was honest and gave her a fair price for their handicrafts. Today there’d even been enough money left over that Evelyn had been able to buy a piece of candy for each child. That would make Christmas morning special.
“When you’re a little older, I’ll teach you how to make oatmeal.”
Evelyn laid a hand on Polly’s shoulder. The child had
become so dear to her in the month since she’d arrived at the orphanage. Arrived? No. She’d been deposited on the front step as if she were no more important than the piles of clothing some parishioners left when their children had outgrown them. Like worn dresses and overalls, Polly had been discarded.
Unaware of the turns Evelyn’s thoughts had taken, Polly grinned. “I know how. I watched you. You gotta stir, stir, stir.”
“That’s right. You’re a smart girl.”
“My daddy said that too.” Polly’s smile turned upside down, reminding Evelyn of the story she’d told about her father being put in a box in the ground. Evelyn was all too familiar with those boxes, but she’d been fortunate enough to have her parents with her for thirteen years before the night everything changed. Polly was only six, or so she said.
Think about Polly, Evelyn told herself. Not the night when it had rained hard enough to muffle her screams from passersby. The sheriff had told her he’d arrested and hanged the man responsible. He’d assured her she had no reason to fear, and yet she did. Ten years wasn’t long enough to erase the memories, particularly when she could feel someone watching her.
“I miss my daddy.” Tears welled in Polly’s eyes as she said, “I want him to come back.”
Though it broke her heart, Evelyn couldn’t allow the child to fantasize. “You know he can’t. He’s in heaven now.”
Despite her nod, tears began to trickle down Polly’s cheeks. “Buster said some girls get new daddies. He said people come looking for good little girls.” She looked up at Evelyn, pleading in her eyes. “I’ve been good, haven’t I?”
“You’ve been very good,” Evelyn reassured her. But that wouldn’t be enough. Three couples had come to the orphanage since Polly’s arrival, and all three had been unwilling to adopt a child with such a prominent birthmark. “It’s Satan’s mark,” one woman had announced. When she’d heard that, Evelyn had been tempted to gouge the woman’s cheek and give her her own mark.