Unconventional Series Collection (24 page)

Luke caressed her hair. "Shh, Angel.
Whether we have children or not doesn't change anything. Finish your story,
love."

Angel hiccupped. "For twelve years I saved
every cent he gave me, and when I thought I had enough money, I started
searching the papers for bakeries for sale in other states. I saw the
advertisement for the San Francisco one and corresponded with the owners. I
sent a telegram to the authorities to determine if the sale was legitimate, and
it was, so I sent a bank draft with the down payment. I was to pay the balance
when I arrived. Of course, after you asked me to stay, we sent a telegram
acknowledging my forfeiture of the bakery."

Luke placed his forehead against hers. "So,
after you bought the bakery, you hired Dawg to escort you, but he accosted you
in Denver and you left while he was in jail."

"Yes. And that's when I started using my
maiden name and my nickname. And then I met you." She lifted her head and
stared into his eyes. Brushing her fingers over his lips, she whispered,
"Dawg said if I didn't come with him, he'd kill you." A tear trickled
down Angel's cheek. "I would do anything to protect you."

Luke reached and thumbed Angel's tears away and
they stared at each other for a long time. Finally, she smiled and said,
"I love you, Luke, and now I'm free of the past. There's nothing more to
tell."

Lovingly, Luke smiled and placed his hand behind
her head, pulling her mouth to his. "You've made me believe in angels,
Angel."

Angel smoothed a hand over her round belly and
greeted a lovely spring day. Another two months and their baby would be born.
The fact that she and Luke were expecting a child was nothing short of a
miracle in her judgment. They had recently celebrated their one year
anniversary with family and close friends, and the fact that they would soon
become parents, was the best present Luke could have given her. Next to that,
was the train passage he had purchased so Jenny could be there for the family's
annual tradition. Angel would finally meet her sister-in-law. Jenny's paintings
hung throughout their home and Angel marveled at the warmth and love radiating
from them.

The smell of fresh baked bread wafted from the
kitchen and Angel rushed to remove the loaf from the oven. While she was
placing another one on the rack, the kitchen door opened and Luke stepped
inside.

"Darlin', look at this."

Angel closed the oven door, glanced up, and
didn't see anything at first. Then her eyes alighted on Luke's arm where three
butterflies rested next to each other. Angel laughed delightedly when they flew
off his arm and onto her round belly.

Luke chuckled, "I think Wally's joined them
and they're welcoming the baby." At his words, the butterflies lifted and
fluttered toward the open kitchen window and perched on the ledge for only a
second before flying in the direction of the old oak shading the graves of
Molly, Ty, and faithful Wally.

Having finished writing Luke and Angel's love
story, I sigh and daydream about the next book in the series—
Ryder's
Salvation.

Jake Ryder has certainly experienced his own
share of sorrow. Sadly, he lost an arm in an accident and has become a bitter,
reclusive man. The last joy of his life—his artistic ability—was stolen in a
moment of time.

His friend, Jonas "Soaring Eagle"
Winston, and co-founder of their art institute in New York, convinces him to
make a brief appearance at their annual gala displaying the works of their most
talented students.

Although Ryder recognizes potential in country
landscapes painted by Jenny Samson, the perfection in the scenes only incense
the artist in him. Without regard for her feelings, he lashes out, criticizing
her efforts. The hurt in her eyes haunts his sleep, and when she arrives on his
doorstep demanding he teach her the secrets of light and dark that give soul to
his own paintings, he is torn between having her removed from his property or
finding out if she has what it takes to become a great artist.

Ryder's Salvation
Unconventional Series

By

Verna Clay

This book is dedicated to those
who have loved to the utmost, only to be rejected.

Ryder's Salvation
Unconventional Series

Copyright © 2012 by Verna Clay

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this
book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

For information contact:

[email protected]

Website: www.VernaClay.com

Published by:

M.O.I.
Publishing

"Mirrors of Imagination"

Cover Design: Verna Clay

Pictures: Dreamstime; iStockphoto

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,
and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or
dead, is entirely coincidental.

Dear
Readers,

While writing the romance between Jake Ryder and
Jenny Samson, I attempted to "get into the minds" of artists and
added an esoteric slant to this story—nothing overwhelming, but just enough to
create characters driven by forces beyond their understanding.

Without giving anything away, I can reveal that
Ryder (he goes by his last name) is tormented by emotional and physical loss.
The loss of his painting arm was his final devastation and he lives a lonely
existence.

For Jenny, it is Ryder's rejection of her that
triggers her own emotional upheaval.

While Ryder and Jenny have much in common, it is
their pride and self-preservation that drive them apart. Sometimes I became
frustrated with them and wanted to shout, "Wake up!"

Happily, they eventually discovered the error of
their ways and the perfect balance they have in each other.

Verna
Clay

Jenny bent and kissed the cherub cheek of the
baby in her arms. "I'm going to miss you something fierce, Evangeline
Molly Samson." Holding her tiny niece to her heart, she grazed her lips
over Evangeline's downy black hair and inhaled her baby fragrance before
reluctantly handing her back to her sister-in-law.

Angel sniffed, brushed a tear away, and accepted
her baby in one arm while reaching to enfold Jenny with her other. "I wish
you could stay another two months."

Jenny's brother stepped inside the front door.
"The horses are hitched to the buggy. I'm ready when you are."

Jenny trailed a finger down Eva's cheek in a
parting gesture, and then turned to her brother. "Luke, we'd best hurry
before I'm crying like a baby."

Luke lifted his sister's suitcase. "C'mon,
Jenny, all these goodbyes are putting tears in my eyes, too." He turned to
his wife. "Honey, I'll pick up those things you need from the general
store and be back before supper."

After taking a couple of steps toward the door,
he paused, set the suitcase down, and said, "Aw, hell." In a
heartbeat, he was pulling his wife and baby and sister into his powerful arms.
For several minutes the family clung to each other, mumbling their goodbyes yet
again.

Finally, Luke said, "We've
really
got to leave to get you to your stagecoach on time."

Jenny waved a sad goodbye to Angel and Eva when
the horses lurched the buggy forward at Luke's command. She was on her way to
Two Rivers to begin her journey back to New York.

* * *

Leaning against the hard cushion of the
stagecoach, Jenny closed her eyes and sighed. The travel time from Two Rivers to
Bingham was three hours, and then she had a two hour wait until her train left
for Dallas. The coach hit a rut and she groaned when she bounced several inches
off her seat. Opening her eyes, she noticed her traveling companions, a
full-figured, red-headed saloon type gal, and a handsome blonde man with
matching mustache and goatee, didn't even flinch at the jostling of the coach.
The pretty woman whose features had been enhanced by rouge and the darkening of
her eyelids, smiled in a friendly manner and said as if she had read Jenny's
mind, "Joe and I been traveling the country for eleven years and I think
we've hit every rut in every road. The ruts in this one are nothing compared to
the ones in Tennessee. Don't you agree, Joe?"

Joe barely slit his eyes open. "No, the
ones in Arkansas are worse."

The lively woman laughed, "You know, come
to think of it, you're right." She looked back at Jenny. "By the way,
my name is Priscilla Clarkson, but my stage name is Princess Prisca."

Jenny grinned at the woman. "My name is
Jenny Samson. I'm pleased to meet you."

"Likewise. And that man who's about to
start snoring is Joseph Stillwater."

Without opening his eyes, Joseph stifled a yawn
and said, "Pleased to me ya, Jenny. Just call me Joe."

"Umm, pleased to meet you, too."

Priscilla said, "So, Jenny, have you ever
been to a theatrical performance in a saloon?"

Taken by surprise at her question, Jenny
replied, "No. No ma'am."

Priscilla laughed so hard she snorted. "I
can't remember the last time I was called ma'am in such a respectful way.
Jenny, you just call me Prisca, like all my friends. Do your friends call you
Jen?"

"My family doesn't, but some of my friends
in New York do."

"New York! Are you traveling all the way
there?"

"Yes. I've been visiting my family for a couple
of months, but I'm returning to art school in New York. I have another year
before I graduate."

"That sounds interesting. What are they
teaching you?"

"I'm learning to paint with both oils and
water colors, but oils are my favorite."

"My ma could draw pretty good and she tried
to teach me, but I never got the hang of it. I was always wantin' to sing
anyway. What do you paint?"

"Mostly landscapes or country scenes—lakes,
mountains, meadows, cabins, barns—that sort of thing."

"Do you paint people?"

"I have. But not often. I'm going to paint
my niece, though. She was born shortly after I arrived for my visit and she's
the most beautiful baby I've ever seen. Of course, between her mother's beauty
and my handsome brother, how could she not be?"

"Sounds like you have a wonderful
family."

"I do. My pa remarried after my ma died
when I was nine and my stepmother was a godsend. Her and my pa had two boys, so
I have three brothers."

"I had an older brother, but he died when I
was seven. My ma and pa wanted more kids, but they was never blessed with them.
My pa died when I was sixteen; my ma not long after that. I was left to fend
for myself and that's when Joe came along." Prisca glanced fondly at him.
"He taught me how to sing in front of people and we've been traveling
together ever since."

Jenny glanced at Joe and he made a snoring
sound.

Prisca laughed. "Yep, he can sleep through
anything."

Jenny asked, "At the risk of sounding
nosey, where is your next…er…theatrical performance?"

"We're headed to Bingham for a week, then
on to Dallas and Ft. Worth for a month and then to Shreveport for two weeks.
After that, we got some performances lined up in Baton Rouge. And after that,
don't know. That's the way this business is—up and down."

The remainder of the journey was delightful with
Prisca's lively personality and generous smiles endearing her to Jenny. Jenny
knew that "proper" women would look down their noses at Prisca, but
she found her charming.

After Joe woke, he joined their animated
conversation and helped pass the hours. Jenny couldn't help but notice that the
same glances she often saw pass between Luke and Angel, also passed between
Prisca and Joe—like they shared a secret known only to the two of them. She
also noted that Prisca often touched Joe and he responded with smiles and
return touches. She wondered if they were married, but remembered Prisca had
introduced them with different last names. Their relationship intrigued Jenny,
but, of course, she did not pursue her curiosity with questions.

Ahead of schedule they rolled into Bingham
laughing at one of Joe's stories. Prisca swiped tears from her eyes.
"Every time he tells that calamity I can't stop laughing."

Jenny replied, "That is one of the funniest
misadventures I've ever heard," and dabbed tears of mirth from her own
eyes.

Jenny was sad to bid Prisca and Joe goodbye and
made them promise to look her up if their travels took them to New York in the
next year or back to Two Rivers after that.

After disembarking, the stagecoach driver loaded
Jenny and her suitcase onto a buckboard bound for the train depot. At the depot
she bought her ticket, sat on a bench, pulled a small book of poetry from her
reticule, and prepared to wait two hours for her departure. After an hour,
thirst and hunger led her inside. Finding a table in a small dining room, she
ordered a glass of milk and a slice of apple pie. With her first bite she
realized it was nowhere near as delicious as her sister-in-law's. Angel's
baking skills had garnered her quite a reputation in Two Rivers and the
surrounding areas. In fact, the Mayflower Hotel dining room was always booked
on the weekends with folks wanting to enjoy the meals prepared by Jack and
Bessie Jane Smythe and the desserts by Angel.

Settling back in her chair she passed the time
by thinking about her family. Several months previous, she had received a
letter from her stepmother that her father had been badly injured, but the
letter had been sent when he was well on the road to recovery. Abby had
apologized for waiting so long to inform her, but she had said that if she'd
written sooner, she knew Jenny would have dropped everything to return home. Ma
Abby had been right about that. The only thing more important to Jenny than her
artwork was her family.

Abby's letter had also contained the news of
Luke's marriage and a baby expected about the time of the family's annual trek
to the graves of Jenny's birth mother and baby brother. Enclosed with Abby's
letter had been a letter from Luke with a bank draft for enough money to buy
her passage to Two Rivers during spring break.

Now that her visit was over, Jenny was excited
to return to her studies, but sad to leave her family. Her father had
completely recovered, and, except for the ragged line of a scar down his cheek
and a slight limp, he was back to ranching and raising his family.

Jenny chuckled softly when she remembered
walking into the barn during her visit and surprising her pa and ma lying in a
mound of hay and kissing passionately. They had both jumped to their feet and
Abby had turned swiftly around to rearrange her clothing while Jenny had merely
laughed, and said, "Pa and Ma, if you only knew how many times I walked
into the barn and saw the two of you kissing while I was growing up, you'd be
right embarrassed."

About that time, Jenny's younger brothers, eight
year old Rusty and ten year old James, had entered the barn and Rusty had said,
"James, it's just Ma and Pa playing in the hay again."

Jenny stifled a loud laugh at her memories and
finished her pie and milk. Returning to the depot landing her thoughts turned
to her studies at
Jake Ryder's Academy of Art
in New York. She had one
month to finish and prepare for a showing of two of her best paintings. Each
summer, the academy selected twenty students to showcase their artwork at a popular
downtown gallery. The event was attended by both critics and the public and had
launched the careers of several students over the years. Just thinking about
the showing tied Jenny's stomach up in knots. It was rumored that maybe the
great painter and founder of the academy, Jake Ryder, himself, would attend
this year. Of course, he hadn't been seen at the last two showings, so her
expectation was low that he would appear at this one. Still, one could always
hope. Jenny wanted desperately to meet the Painter of Emotions as he was known
in the echelons of the art world. Often, since coming to New York, she had
stood before his masterpieces that hung at the academy, and even visited the
museum that housed some of his most famous works, and gazed in awe at the
depictions of Wild West scenes. His mastery of capturing the spirit of whatever
he painted mesmerized her. She could stand riveted for long periods viewing
every detail of the sky, plains, grasses, mountains, forests, horses, cabins,
teepees, cowboys, Native Americans, or whatever was depicted, and her heartbeat
would quicken. She always left the presence of his art wanting to cry because
he no longer painted. She had read in a Bingham newspaper a few years back that
a carriage accident had led to the amputation of his right arm just below his
shoulder. Although the article had been unclear as to the exact nature of what
had happened, it had quoted Mr. Ryder as saying he could no longer paint
because he was right-handed. With an understanding of the devastation he must
be feeling because of her own passion for painting, Jenny had cried for him.
When she had been accepted into his academy, her sorrow for Mr. Ryder had only
intensified.

"Now boarding for Dallas!" yelled the
steward.

Jenny
mentally shook thoughts of Jake Ryder from her mind. She would probably never
meet him, so it was best not to dwell on the sad events of his life.