Tennessee Touch, Sisters of Spirit #6 (37 page)

“No.”

My heart fell. It was as I expected, the wanderlust would never leave him. I felt like all the gumption had plumb gone out of me. He’d never settle down until he died and got buried in some foreign land.

He looked me over. “You always were the prettiest gal on the mountain.”

“I ain’t any longer.”

He shook his head. “Can’t prove it by me.”

“Jacob, I’m the only gal on the mountain.”

That brought a smile to his face. “I crossed many a mountain. Wherever I went, you were always with me, always talking to me and showing me your love in the little ways you do.”

He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, sort of hesitant like. “You should see it out there, Abigail. The wind blowin’ off the water. It makes you feel alive.”

“I like the mountains. And trees.”

“There’s mountains. Higher than these. And the trees are so big it takes a day to walk around one. If you cut one down, you can build a whole town with the lumber.”

“So?”

“You were always doing something for someone. I wanted better for you
—
for us. I built us a place in California. Near that ocean. Hired a man to care for it while I come to fetch you and the boys. That is, if you’ll leave this here farm. We’ll have a fine living on my new place. Soil is good and black. And deep. We won’t have to plow around the boulders.”

When Jacob had left, I’d refused to go with him. Our youngest, Razzel, was only twelve, and I had heard of the western lands and the wild Indians and the blizzards and wildfires. I’d wanted no part of it.

Now, what was here for me? A farm that had taken the best years of my life and almost killed me a few times? And would certainly kill me this winter. I didn’t owe it anything. And if it had been the strongest house on the mountain, I wouldn’t have stayed. If Jacob was leaving, I was going with him. This time I wasn’t about to be left behind.

“I know you’re attached to this place, but—”

“Not attached. Not any longer. Oh, Jacob, I’ve missed you so much.” And I started to bawl, louder than Aggie when she wants milking bad.

He stepped near and circled me with those long, strong arms of his. “And I missed you, too. You were too stubborn to go with me, while I was bound and determined to find us a better place than this.”

“I wasn’t being stubborn, Jacob. I was afraid.”
But too stubborn to admit it.

“You? Afraid?”

“I didn’t want to take my boys out in that wild land. This place was so secure.”

“They went anyway,” he said, leading the way to the house. He slapped his hand on the side of his leg, and Barney shot out ahead of us, tail wagging.

“Yes. First Gage, the week after you left. If you remember right, he was twenty. Then Daniel, then the rest of them, whenever they reached sixteen.”

We went inside. I looked around. It was the only home my boys had known. “What if they come back and I’m not here?” I worried.

“We’ll tell the Buchanans.”

“They’re both dead.” I told him what had happened to them. “Only Mally is alive, and she went to Missouri to live with kin.”

“Good for her.”

“I don’t know how we could leave a message.”

“We’ll tell people as we go along, mentioning California. If any of those boys do look for you, they’ll come. I ain’t waiting here for ‘em.”

“Then I won’t either.”

He drew me into the firelight, looked me up and down and kissed me soundly. I loved his kisses. It was how he’d wooed me away from that young flatlander who thought he’d get a chance with me.

“I love you, Mrs. Courtney. I’ve been a long time waiting. I’d ‘ave been back a lot sooner, if I could’ve. Got swept up into that there war. Man with a gun said I either joined them or I was the enemy. So I became a Union soldier. Wasn’t particularly fighting for anything, except to stay alive and get back to you.”

I believed him. “I love you, Jacob. Just don’t leave me again.”

“Never.” He pulled off his boots and I shucked out of my dress, then stood there in my raggedy chemise, as he took off his shirt, then his britches.

I was thinking hard. I knew I’d forgotten something.

As he grabbed my hand to pull me into bed, I stopped him, saying, “Wait! Jacob, the goose!”

THE END

This is Abigail’s story. If you wish to find out what happened to young Mally, read
THE HANDSOMEST MAN IN THE COUNTRY,
a novella and #1 in The Traherns.

Boxed set of #1-4 of the Sisters of Spirit
novels.
This gives you four super reads, ranging from a simple love story in
Turnagain Love
to a life and death struggle in
Courage Dares.
All are sweet, contemporary romances with lots of action but without the language or sex offered by many other authors. These are safe to give to your teenagers, grandparents, and anyone wanting pure romance.

Watch for:   
Appaloosa Blues
  #8 coming in 2013.

Works by Other Authors You Might Enjoy

A Family for Christmas
   by Helen Scott Taylor

Christmas Runaway
 by Mimi Barbour

SAMPLE: THE MAN IN GRAY SERIES (MYSTERIES)

Prologue:
Enter the Ghost

Sam Riley pulled off the narrow dirt road and stopped the borrowed police cruiser on the edge of the ditch. Opening the door, he adjusted the small Colt .380 in the holster under his left arm and glanced at the badge clipped to his belt. The sun caught the window glass on the door of the new 1929 Durant, flashing the light across Riley’s face. He ducked his head slightly to let the Fedora block the glare and then stepped out onto the packed soil. Sucking in a breath of cold air, Riley scanned the tree line back to the driveway he had passed.

From Washington to Washington was a long train trip. He’d borrowed the police cruiser in Seattle to drive out to the Fonck mansion in the foothills of nowhere. He wasn’t expected company, and he didn’t expect a warm welcome. Especially once he started asking his questions. He tugged at the long gray overcoat he wore, straightening it out, allowing easy access to his gun, then started up the driveway.

Wind blew the branches and they rattled a little. Most of the leaves had fallen, yet so many trees were evergreens that he couldn’t see the house. When it finally came into view, it shocked him. It was bigger than anything back East. He shook his head, knowing that there wasn’t anyone around for many miles and that a lot of work would have gone into a home this size. Four cars were parked in front of the house, all Fords. The grass near the house had been cut short and a large barn could be seen out back.

He was still taking in the big picture when the front door opened and a man stepped outside, a rifle cradled across his left arm. He stood in the shade of the porch and didn’t appear much more than a shadow.

“Good evening.” Riley called out.

The man nodded.

“I’m looking for Mister Fonck.”

“Which one?”

Riley heard a window open and looked up. A rifle barrel parted the curtain and then steadied on him. “I’d like to talk to Pierre.”

The man shifted a little and his rifle leveled off, pointing directly at him. “I’m Pierre.” He nodded at Riley. “Who are you?”

Riley pushed his hat up a little as he thought of the best reply, and when he decided on one, he answered, “FBI.”

He was staring at  Pierre when he spoke and from the corner of his eye he saw a flash of light from the rifle protruding from the window. Instantly he was struck in the head with a sledgehammer-like force. Lights exploded in his vision, followed by darkness.

Riley opened his eyes and blinked. He felt no pain, no discomfort. He looked around in the pitch blackness, but didn’t see anything. There weren’t any lights. Nothing. No sun, no moon, or stars. There were no sounds either. Not even the background noise of wind. Riley concluded that he must be in a cellar and reached out with his hand. He swung it gently around trying to find something. He touched his fedora, but other than his hat, there was nothing within his reach. He felt panic rise in his chest. Was he blind? Deaf? He sat up, reaching farther out and still not finding anything.

He reached farther and farther into the darkness. Still nothing. He reached out with a foot, then moved upright. Suddenly he was seeing stars through the outlines of branches. He scanned the area around him. The bushes. Water dripping from branches. Soggy soil.

Chest deep in the ground? Why was that?

Riley lunged forward and rolled over, pulling the rest of his body from the earth. He scrambled to his feet and glanced back. There was no sign of a hole or disturbed dirt. His clothes were clean.

He shivered, but not because he was cold. In fact, he couldn’t feel a thing. Habitually he reached for his gun and found it, then realized the badge was missing. For a long time he stood staring at the ground from where he had crawled. Then the rain came as if to answer a question that he was afraid to ask. The rain came and the droplets fell, but he didn’t feel them. They passed through him and hit the ground.

The spot of soil that mesmerized him, hid his body. He was certain of that. There was one other thing he was certain of
—he wouldn’t rest until he found his killer.