Winning The Rancher's Heart (Mail-Order Brides of Salvation 2) Read online

  Love and Faith

  on the American Frontier

  Winning the

  Rancher’s Heart

  Faith Parsons

  Winning the Rancher’s Heart, by Faith Parsons

  Copyright 2015 - First electronic publication, July 2015

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distribute via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author's permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely incidental.

  Welcome to Salvation, Texas -- A Small Town with a Big Heart

  A MAN WITH A RANCH TO SAVE

  Rancher Paul Hart moved out West to escape a broken heart and the dead-end factory job that was crushing his soul. He's succeeded in making a new home for himself and his sick mother, but he's failed to find a woman who can teach him to love again.

  A WOMAN WITH A HEART BIGGER THAN THE LONE STAR STATE

  Widow Elizabeth Saunders is in dire straits: her late husband lost everything at the card table, and his family blames her for his suicide. Her biggest regret is that she remains childless. Elizabeth asks God for a second chance at starting a family--and His answer seems to come in the form of a letter from Paul.

  A FAMILY IN PERIL

  When Elizabeth agrees to become Paul's mail-order bride, she falls in love with his home, his mother, and the simple freedom of the wide-open Texas sky. But Paul is another matter--although he's unfailingly kind to Elizabeth, he's reluctant to bare his soul to her.

  As cattle rustlers force Paul's ranch to the brink of financial ruin, Elizabeth must convince her

  husband to let her help save his home--and his heart.

  Winning the Rancher's Heart is a clean, inspirational mail order bride romance. While this book is part of a series, it can definitely be read as a standalone book.

  Love and Faith on the American Frontier: in this heartwarming series of clean inspirational romance stories, courageous men and their mail-order brides join together to make a new life on the Western frontier.

  Book 1 - Winning the Deputy's Heart

  Book 2 - Winning the Rancher's Heart

  Book 3 - Winning the Doctor’s Heart

  Book 4 - Winning the Homesteader’s Heart (coming in September 2015)

  Book 5 - Winning the Wrangler’s Heart (coming in October 2015)

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  Chapter One

  The dark wood of the casket gleamed as Elizabeth Saunders hovered near her late husband’s body, still numb with disbelief. She couldn’t believe she’d sat across the breakfast table from him a mere two days ago. He’d been hungover, puffy and a little bit green, the veins in his nose an ugly purple-red. He looked much better now, thanks to the undertaker’s efforts.

  She covered her mouth as another sob threatened to force its way out.

  Although her marriage to Richard had been an arrangement of convenience rather than love, he’d never treated her badly. More ignored her, really, except when it suited him to remember he was married. Especially at the end, when she’d begged him to forego the card tables for the sake of preserving what money they had left.

  Now he was dead, and she was a penniless widow.

  She should regret losing him, she knew. But mostly, she regretted that they’d never had a child.

  Dragging herself back to the present, Elizabeth trembled a little in her black dress as she looked down at Richard’s pallid face. She felt a presence at her elbow and turned slightly to see Richard’s mother, Margaret, glaring up at her. Large tears rolled down the older woman’s red, blotchy cheeks as she waved a lace-edged handkerchief in Elizabeth’s face.

  “You! How can you show your face at my poor boy’s funeral? You’re glad he’s gone! My Richard was a good man. Everyone loved him. Everyone but you.”

  “He was my husband.” But deep inside, she knew it was true. She’d liked Richard when he was sober. She’d worried about him when he was out carousing. She’d cared for him when he needed it. But she’d never loved him.

  “Mama.” Richard’s sister bustled over. “You’re making a scene.”

  “My boy’s dead! You – you wouldn’t even give him children! You drove him to – to take his own life!” A fresh wave of sobs cut off the rest of Margaret’s words.

  Elizabeth’s cheeks heated, stung by the unfairness of the accusation. Richard had never wanted children, but Margaret had been sure that he’d settle down as soon as he married Elizabeth. For some reason, she’d expected Elizabeth to transform Richard from a hard-drinking, card-dealing rake into a responsible family man.

  But this wasn’t the place to explain to Margaret that her own son had killed himself because he couldn’t face the realization that he was bankrupt.

  The other mourners gave the casket a wide berth, but Elizabeth could hear them whispering. She took another deep breath, pushing her own humiliation aside for now. “Margaret, please. Don’t turn his funeral into a spectacle. Let him be buried in dignity.”

  Richard’s aunt and cousin came alongside Margaret, to usher the sobbing woman away before she regained control and continued her tirade. Elizabeth looked to them with a grateful half-smile, but was shaken to see contempt and disdain in their eyes.

  For the first time it occurred to her that the extra space that the other mourners were giving her might be due to something other than respect for her grief.

  The hollow feeling that had settled inside Elizabeth at the news of Richard’s death began to fill with guilt. Had she been such a bad wife? She’d paid his debts and coddled him after late nights out. But the guilt was there, and it was real. Elizabeth hadn’t loved Richard as a wife should. If she had, she would have found a way to stop him.

  The night he’d hung himself, he’d been in one of his ominous moods. Normally, Elizabeth ignored these moods and let Richard work through them himself, but lately his gambling had begun to make her nervous. She resolved to try, for the first time, to get the better of his brooding. She’d prepared his favorite meal and opened a bottle of his favorite wine. And waited.

  Dinner was long cold when she’d heard galloping hooves coming down the drive and looked up expecting to see Richard on his horse. Instead, a young man adeptly brought his mare to a halt at the gate, jumped off her back and ran to the door yelling, “Ma’am! Ma’am, you must come, it’s Mr. Saunders!”

  Elizabeth closed her eyes and shuddered at the memory. He hadn’t even the decency to come home and do the deed in the privacy of his study—he’d rented a room in a seedy tavern. She doubted he’d been trying to save her the horror of finding his body. More likely he’d been drinking there, and finally gotten up the courage to end his own life.

  If he’d been home, she would have had a chance at stopping him.

  Opening her eyes, she gazed at her late husband for the last time. Goodbye, Richard. I’m sorry I wasn’t the wife you wanted.

  As she turned away from the casket, Elizabeth felt a gentle touch on her arm. She glanced up to see her best friend
Jane looking at her with warmth and deep concern. She took a deep breath and steadied herself on Jane’s outstretched arm. Jane led her outside to an awaiting carriage and helped her in. She struggled to put one foot in front of the other. What would she do now?

  “I’ll have to sell the house,” she said in a daze. “I’ll have to sell everything.”

  Jane patted her hand comfortingly. “You can think about it tomorrow.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I knew that someday Richard’s drinking would do him in, but I had no idea I’d be a widow so soon. I’m not ready. I feel like our marriage barely got started.”

  “You made all the important decisions when Richard was alive. You’ll just keep doing that.”

  “I…I can’t help but feel…” The words seemed too terrible to say. But she couldn’t carry this guilt around with her for the rest of her life. “…it’s my fault he’s dead.”

  Jane shook her head vehemently. “Margaret will believe what she needs to believe to avoid her own guilt for the way her son turned out. That doesn’t make it true.”

  “She’ll make my life impossible. You saw the way everyone looked at me.”

  “That’s why you need a fresh start.”

  “I don’t have any money.”

  Jane sighed. “I’m going West.”

  What? “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’ve been corresponding with a rancher in Nevada and I’m going to marry him.” Jane finished her speech with a grin.

  Elizabeth was in shock. “To be a mail-order bride?”

  “To be a rancher’s wife. Think about it. Clean air, lots of space, and no one knows I’m the youngest daughter of a family that’s fallen on hard times. I can be whoever I want to be out there. So can you.”

  “By the time the creditors are done with Richard’s estate, I won’t have anything left but the clothes on my back.”

  “Just say yes.” Jane smiled. “I’ll take care of everything.”

  Chapter Two

  Scuffing the dirt with his boot, Paul Hart let out a long sigh and leaned on the fence as his head ranch hand, Mike, dismounted from his horse and walked toward him. Mike was supposed to be out in the north pasture with the others, guarding the herd from the rustlers. His early return meant—

  “How many did we lose?”

  “Fifteen head.”

  “Anyone hurt?”

  “No, sir. By the time we realized they’d hit, they were already gone.”

  Could have been worse, then. “Move the cattle east, up into the hills.”

  “Yes, sir.” Mike tipped his hat and stepped away, then jumped on his horse once again and rode off. Paul glanced past Mike to the wide sky above. The sun was getting low, throwing fiery rays through pink and peach-colored clouds.

  Paul frowned. At the rate he was losing cattle, he was in danger of losing the ranch too. Not to mention his men. So far, the thefts had been stealthy, but sooner or later, one of his ranch hands would catch the rustlers red-handed, and there’d be a shoot-out. As desperately as he wanted to stop the rustlers, he also loathed the idea of his men being shot defending his cattle. Paul’s head sank for a moment as he prayed for his ranch hands and the protection of his property.

  In many ways, Paul felt like a rich man. All this beauty, all this land belonged to him. Out here his soul could breathe. This east Texas valley provided everything a man needed to live well.

  The enticement of spacious skies and fertile land brought him out west, away from the cities and close air. Away from the miserable factory job that had corroded his soul. Away from the haunting memories of Kimberly. Yes, even with the dangers of rustlers and other outlaws, this suited him much better.

  The cleaner air and space seemed to have a positive effect on his mother as well. Paul had brought her out as soon as the house was built. Some of her vitality had returned and it did Paul’s heart good to see that.

  But over the past year, her health had begun to deteriorate again. At first, Paul tried to keep busy with the ranch, hoping that her illness was a temporary condition. But several months ago, she’d forced him acknowledge the truth.

  “Paul, you need to find a nice wife for yourself.”

  “I’m too busy for a wife,” he’d replied as he helped his mother to her rocking chair. “I’ve got a ranch to run.”

  “I know that woman broke your heart.”

  That woman was Kimberly. The real reason he’d moved West. When he first began to court her, he’d thought she was the prettiest woman alive. She’d seemed to like him too—until she found out that he wasn’t in line for the foreman position at the factory. He didn’t want to be in charge, he’d explained. He wanted to keep working with his hands.

  She wanted to marry someone with prospects, she’d replied. She didn’t care if he loved her. Pathetic, she’d called him.

  “She doesn’t matter, Ma. Nothing matters but you and me and this ranch.”

  “A mother can tell when her son is lonely.”

  Paul had flushed and looked down at his boots. “How am I supposed to find a wife out here, anyway?”

  “I hear there are plenty of women back East looking for a better life.”

  “You want me to bring a total stranger into our house?”

  “Helen told me about that handsome young deputy…you know the tall one?”

  “Jacob Anderson.”

  “He just got himself a nice young woman through the correspondence catalogs.”

  “A mail-order bride.”

  But his mother wouldn’t let it go. “I won’t be around forever. I want to see my grandchildren before I go.”

  Paul sighed. Maybe if she thought he was taking her seriously, she’d stop. “Fine, Ma.”

  She sank into her chair and pointed at the kitchen table. “I circled some for you.”

  With leaden feet, he reluctantly retrieved the catalog and sat down across from his mother. He’d pretend to consider them for a while, he decided, and she’d forget.

  “I liked Elizabeth Saunders,” his mother suggested as she bent and picked up a half-finished scarf from her knitting basket. “She has a kind soul.”

  “You can’t tell that from a picture.”

  “You can see it on her face. Same as I could see that woman didn’t have an ounce of compassion in her heart.”

  Paul scowled and flipped through the pages, until he found the woman his mother had circled. Elizabeth Saunders, recently widowed at the age of twenty six, currently living in Chicago. He understood at once why Ma had selected her. There was something in her expression, something wise and sad and sweet that was hard to define. A vulnerability that she’d not yet learned to mask.

  So he’d written her a letter. Her reply had been thoughtful and kind and hopeful. She’d seemed fascinated by his stories of life on the ranch. He wrote again. By the third letter, he found himself looking forward to her responses.

  A month ago, after a great deal of contemplation and prayer, he’d proposed.

  Then the rustlers had struck. Repeatedly.

  Elizabeth would be here tomorrow, and he’d have to tell her that if they didn’t catch these rustlers soon, he’d lose the ranch. When she realized he couldn’t give her the life she’d been hoping for, she’d leave.

  That wasn’t the worst part, though. The worst part would be how disappointed his mother would be. There would be no grandchildren for her. Now that her health was going…

  Paul hurried into the house, planning to check on Ma before he headed out for the night, to help his men guard the herd.

  He found her propped up in bed, reading.

  “Ma, you haven’t touched the tea and biscuit I brought you earlier. Come now, take a bite.” Paul held the biscuit slathered in jam out to his mother.

  She took it from him and slowly nibbled at it. She looked so frail. “What’s happened, son?”

  “Nothing.” Paul braved a smile and took Maria’s hand. It would do no good to worry her, maybe aggravate her condition.


  Maria studied Paul’s face for a moment with her head cocked to one side. She apparently decided not to press the matter, as she changed the subject.

  “Have you heard from Elizabeth?”

  “Her train gets in tomorrow afternoon. Minister Rowland will meet and marry us here. You won’t even need to get out of your rocking chair.”

  Paul’s smiled for his mother’s sake, but his stomach clenched in nervousness as it had every time in the last week he’d thought about his bride arriving. When he’d decided to pray about proposing to Elizabeth, a sense of deep calm had come over him. At the time, he’d thought it was a sign he was doing the right thing. But now, with the stolen cattle and his mother’s health so poor, it felt like the wrong thing.

  “Give her a chance.” Maria patted Paul’s hand.

  “You know I’ll treat her well, Ma.”

  “Paul, if all I taught you was how to be courteous to women, I didn’t teach you enough. A wife needs more than courtesy. A wife needs to be loved by her husband. Loved deeply, like your father loved me.”

  Paul sighed sadly. “I am who I am.”

  Chapter Three

  Elizabeth stepped off the train and took a steadying breath. She scanned the station around her, taking in the small train depot, the wide sky and the dusty buildings lined up along the main street of Salvation, Texas. She’d seen a wide variety of landscapes on the train ride out. From mountains to deserts to meadows. But standing in the middle of this tiny bit of civilization, surrounded by such a vast, wild territory, was something else altogether. It took Elizabeth’s breath away. She felt exposed and isolated all at once.

  A man climbed up the steps of the train platform and walked slowly toward her. He was strikingly handsome. This couldn’t be her husband-to-be. Could it?