Lacy Williams (20 page)

She’d thought she’d lost the chance of marrying Oscar, the man she loved. She’d thought she might end up a spinster forever. But God had had other plans for her.

Oscar wrapped one arm around Susie’s shoulders and extended his other arm for Sarah to take, which she did. She drew Cecilia and Velma close, glad when the girl came easily, with a genuine smile.

“Let’s go get some lunch and rest at the hotel for a bit, then we’ll collect the girls’ things and think about heading home to Bear Creek.”

Home to Bear Creek. It sounded wonderful.

They pushed out the door and into the weak winter sunshine, a family unit, but were drawn to a halt by the small knot of people waiting outside.

Sarah’s shoulders tensed, but with Oscar at her shoulder, she was confident they could weather whatever would come.

“Miss Hansen—”

“Mrs. White,” Oscar corrected the first person to speak, shooting a proud grin in Sarah’s direction. A thrill went through her. She was his
wife.

“Er, Mrs. White,” said the mercantile owner, taking off his hat. “And, girls. Well, there’s a bunch of us...” He waved his hand at the group behind him. Sarah recognized the dressmaker, several mothers of schoolchildren and the banker. “There’s a bunch of us who have realized we’ve done wrong in listening to—letting ourselves be bullied by one particular person. We should’ve done the right thing all along, and we didn’t.”

“We’re sorry!” called out one of the mothers, and several others rumbled their agreement.

Sarah looked down at Cecilia squeezed the girl’s shoulders, as Cecilia stared at the group with wide eyes.

“We know we can’t make it up to you, but we’d like to give you girls some gifts to help you get started at your new home.”

Someone pressed a bundle of cloth into Susie’s arms. “My girls have outgrown these dresses but they’re still in good condition. Should have some more years of wear in them.”

One mother handed a cloth-wrapped loaf of soft bread to Sarah. Another brought a basket of eggs and a can of preserves.

When Sarah next looked down, Cecilia had tears in her eyes. “Thank you,” the girl whispered.

Sarah hugged her shoulders, looking over at Oscar who wore a proud smile on his face. “Let’s go home,” she murmured.

Epilogue

S
arah drew up the reins and Belle obeyed, slowing from a walk to a stop at the top of a hill. Oscar reined in beside her, close enough that he reached out for Sarah’s gloved hand.

They didn’t speak for a moment, looking over the valley between Oscar’s small cabin and Jonas and Penny’s larger house. Even covered with snow, the winter landscape was breathtaking.

Oscar’s herd was bunched up near the forested part of the land, while across the way in a different pasture, cattle moved restlessly. Sarah could see activity around the barn and corral at Jonas’s place. Smoke curled from chimneys at both houses.

“A new year. A new start,” Oscar said. “Do you think you can be happy here?”

Though he stared out at the land, squinting slightly beneath his Stetson, Sarah heard the gravity of his tone.

Pretending to consider it, Sarah leaned her head to one side. “Hmm. Well, I don’t know,” she teased. “The cabin
is
small—too small for a family of five, wouldn’t you say?”

He cut his eyes to her. “My brothers will help add on a couple of bedrooms in the spring.”

“Yes, your brothers. I didn’t realize there would be so
many
of them.” She wrinkled her nose at him, knowing he understood she was joshing him.

She
had
been a bit overwhelmed upon their arrival, when they’d been besieged by young men—along with a pigtailed girl about Cecilia’s age wearing trousers. Sarah had recognized Davy and Seb, and had quickly been introduced to the rest. The girls had taken to the large boisterous group immediately, Susie and Cecilia following Breanna to her room, leaving Velma with Sarah. Her heart warmed when she thought of the trust Cecilia had showed her by relinquishing the tot she held so close to her heart.

Sarah had been relieved when Penny had commandeered her and they’d retired to the kitchen with Velma and Penny’s two small children. Penny had told Sarah the story of her first experience—a boisterous meal—with the family, and they’d shared a laugh at the overwhelming nature of it. Sarah felt she could grow to love the family, but had been thankful to retire to Oscar’s small cabin and the relative quiet of only the voices of three girls.

A couple of days later, Penny hosted a New Year’s party and Sarah had enjoyed herself immensely as she got to know the family more and discovered the personalities of each brother and the firecracker who was Breanna. The only solemn moment of the whole evening had been when Jonas had read a letter from Maxwell, who was away at medical school. Oscar had slipped his hand into Sarah’s and she knew he still missed his brother and was sharing the emotion with her, opening up. She’d fallen even more in love with him at that moment.

“And there are the horses,” she continued now. “A lot of horses around all the time. In the corral, the barn, all around. What if one of the children were to get stepped on?”

She patted Belle’s neck with the hand that Oscar didn’t have a hold of.

Now her husband was looking directly at her, frowning.

“You don’t like the herd?”

Actually, she’d been impressed by the quality of the animals. She didn’t know much about horses at all, but she could tell the animals were fine. And there were so many of them. She had no doubt that Oscar’s herd would bring in plenty of profits for their family.

“You know, I’m finding I don’t mind them as much as I once would’ve.”

“You’ve mentioned everything except your new husband,” he said, jiggling her hand. “Do you think you can be happy with
me?
”

Her usually jovial husband was still so serious. She knew he must be thinking of the deaths of his parents and the uncle who hadn’t wanted anything to do with him. Could he really be worried that she would reject him, even now?

“Yes,” she whispered, because she couldn’t tease him about something like this. And because she had no doubt of it. He’d proven that he was loyal and trustworthy, proven his love before he’d been able to utter the words.

Her horseman was the perfect man for her.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from
Healing the Soldier’s Heart
by Lily George.

Dear Reader:

Thanks for reading
Roping the Wrangler.
I really enjoyed writing Oscar and Sarah’s story and seeing the two of them grow and ultimately fall in love. Both of these characters had to overcome not only their preconceived notions about each other, but also individual fears to reach their happy ending. It seems that I struggle with fear each time I write a book—fear that I won’t be able to finish it, fear that it won’t be “good enough,” fear that no one will like it. And yet, every time, I’ve learned to trust God more and that when I let Him be in control (He is, anyway!), the result will be a success.

I hope you’ll watch for Maxwell’s story coming soon—I can’t wait to write about one of my favorite characters from
The Homesteader’s Sweetheart,
where we met all of Jonas White’s kids for the first time.

Thanks for reading and please let me know what you thought of the book. You can reach me at
[email protected]
or in care of Love Inspired Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.

Lacy Williams

Questions for Discussion

1. At the beginning of the story, both Sarah and Oscar have preconceived ideas
   about each other. What were their impressions of each other? Were their
   ideas right or wrong?
   
2. Have you ever misjudged someone based on a wrong first impression? What
   happened? How did you find out you were wrong?
   
3. At the beginning of the story, what does
   Sarah want most for herself? Have you ever had something you wanted more
   than anything? What was it and why did you want it? Did you get it?
   
4. Sarah tried to be sensitive to the needs of
   Cecilia, Susie and Velma, but she faced opposition from many people in town.
   Have you ever fought for something that no one else seemed to care about?
   What happened?
   
5. Oscar tried to fill his life with other
   things to combat his loneliness. Did this work for him? Why or why not?
   
6. Have you ever tried to keep busy to avoid an
   emotional issue? What happened?
   
7. When did Sarah’s attitude toward Oscar start
   to change? When did she start falling in love with him?
   
8. Sarah had a deep-seated fear of horses. What
   are you most afraid of? Why?
   
9. Oscar was scared of revealing his feelings
   and committing to Sarah because of what had happened to him in the past.
   Have you ever been afraid to commit to a relationship, friendship or
   otherwise? Why? Discuss.
   
10. Sarah ultimately made a difference in the
    lives of three of her students. Have you ever had a teacher who made a big
    difference in your life? How did they affect you?
    
11. Oscar and Sarah try to create a memorable
    Christmas for the girls in the face of their difficulties. What is your
    favorite Christmas memory, and why?
    
12. Sarah was unfairly fired from her job. Have
    you ever been treated unfairly? What happened?
    
13. Both Sarah and Oscar have heroic qualities,
    such as compassion, bravery, humor and tenderness. What is your best
    quality?
    
14. Did you enjoy this book? What was your
    favorite part?
    
15. Did you relate more to the hero or heroine
    in this story? Why?
    

We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Historical title.

You find illumination in days gone by.
Love Inspired Historical
stories lift the spirit as heroines tackle the challenges of life in another era with hope, faith and a focus on family.

Enjoy four new stories from Love Inspired Historical every month!

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Chapter One

March 1818
Bath, England
Saint
Swithin’s Church of England

L
ucy Williams rolled her eyes at her friend
in playful disgust. Sophie Handley had no idea how to flirt. That much was
certain. For all her airs and graces, for all her pretty face and lithe figure,
her friend had no real idea how to capture a man’s attention.

Why, they had come to Saint Swithin’s for Sunday services just
so Sophie could meet up with a man she liked, and here he was—on the point of
departure. And Sophie just fretted at Lucy’s side, murmuring how all was lost.
Utterly ridiculous.

It was time to take matters into one’s own hands. Lucy tugged
on her reticule, unclasping it from her wrist. Then, as the parishioners began
to file out of the church, she pushed through the crowd, keeping Sophie close
by. The sea of humanity parted, and she could just glimpse Lieutenant Cantrill,
her quarry. A young man stood beside the lieutenant, his angular face a mask of
misery. Lucy stopped short. Why was he so sad? Her heart skipped a beat. Surely
there was no reason in the world for such a handsome man to be so morose.

Sophie made an impatient tsking sound, jolting Lucy back to her
senses. ’Twas time to accomplish her mission. With a smart twist of her wrist,
she sent the reticule flying. It landed with a satisfying smack right beside the
lieutenant on the wooden floor. He bent at once to retrieve it, his interesting
companion bending down to assist. The lieutenant picked up her reticule, his
eyebrow quirked, and turned to look for the party responsible for launching such
a cunning little missile.

Time to spring into action.

“Oh, sir!” Lucy sang out. “You found my reticule. How very good
of you.” She hustled forward, tugging Sophie along behind her. “It was knocked
clear of my hand by the bustle of this crowd.” She skidded to a halt before the
lieutenant and his companion, giving both the confident smile that had won her a
position as governess to Lord Bradbury’s daughters—no mean feat for a penniless
orphan. Sophie stood beside her, pale and silent, her large blue eyes as round
as saucers as she stared at Lieutenant Cantrill. Lucy jabbed Sophie in the ribs
with her elbow, sending Sophie’s curls bouncing.

Sophie winced and, rubbing her side, began the rounds of
introductions. But it was clear from the way she stood ever so slightly closer
to the lieutenant than propriety allowed that Sophie wanted a chance to be alone
with the lieutenant. Very well, then. Lucy had her own task to follow.

It seemed that the young man with the lieutenant was none other
than Ensign Rowland—the soldier Sophie had mentioned to her a few days prior.
According to Lieutenant Cantrill, Waterloo had left the poor man mute. He had,
in fact, barely spoken a few words since his arrival in Bath. The lieutenant
believed that listening to someone else read aloud might ease his condition and
had asked Sophie to find someone to read to the ensign. Sophie had asked her to
assume that duty.

She turned to the tall man who stood beside the lieutenant. His
wide green eyes regarded her solemnly, yet a spark flickered in their depths.
His sandy blond hair waved over his forehead in a stubborn cowlick. She resisted
the urge to reach up and pat it down with a tender gesture.

“So this is Ensign Rowland? How do you do, sir?” Lucy took his
hands in hers. They were warm and capable—as strong as a man in service might
possess. Now, how could she broach her assignment without making it sound as
though she pitied him or felt sorry for him? Perhaps if she made it sound as
though he would be doing her a tremendous favor in helping her. Yes, that would
work best.

“Ensign, I was wondering if you could assist me with a problem.
You see, I must instruct Lord Bradbury’s daughters in the finer points of
elocution and pronunciation, and the best way to do so is by reading aloud.” She
threaded her arm under his elbow and piloted him toward the door, letting Sophie
and her lieutenant have their moment together. “But I am so rusty at reading
aloud myself. Would you be my audience? I should so like to have your
assistance.”

The spark in his green eyes leaped. He understood what she had
said, even if he didn’t speak. He inclined his head ever so slightly, a lock of
sandy hair falling over his brow. Again, she resisted the urge to pat it back
into place, contenting herself with the feel of his arm underneath her hand.

He allowed her to guide him out of the side entrance of the
vestry. He pushed open the rough wooden door, bathing their faces in pale,
watery sunshine. Lucy blinked, tugging the brim of her bonnet down lower. Now
she had him all to herself and no idea how to entertain him. Fine beads of sweat
broke out under her brow. She would have to do all the talking and never pause
for an answer. That was the only way to carry the conversation, without matters
becoming awkward or embarrassing for the ensign.

Or perhaps the best way was to begin by acknowledging his
obvious affliction. That way, one needn’t feel quite so frantic about keeping up
the conversational flow.

As they strolled into the courtyard, Lucy pulled away from the
ensign’s side. She turned to face him, her heart beginning to pound in her chest
like a big bass drum. Why was she so nervous? She had faced scores of unsettling
situations from losing her parents to leaving her only home, Cornhill and Lime
Street Charity School, to strike out on her own. There was no need to panic just
because she was facing a strikingly handsome young man.

“Ensign Rowland,” she began, her words tumbling over each other
in a rush, “I should let you know that I am well aware of your affliction. You
cannot speak, can you?”

He shrugged, his eyes clouding over. She was losing that spark,
that gleam of interest he had shown her just moments before. A frantic feeling
seized hold of her, and she hurried on, her face growing heated under his
uncertain gaze.

“It doesn’t matter to me, of course. I can talk enough for two
people. Indeed, I have it on good authority that I can talk the legs off a
chair.”

A strange sound, rather like a rusty chuckle, emanated from the
ensign. His lips were quirked downward—with mirth. Good heavens, she made the
man laugh. That was a good sign, surely. She pressed on.

“At any rate, do not feel you have to make a conversation with
me. I really would like to have the opportunity to read to a captive audience.
And if you don’t mind my chattering, then I should love to talk with you
frequently.”

He nodded, his features softening.

“Very good then.” She took his arm once more, and he steered
her toward the stone steps that led down to the street. She could just pick out
Sophie’s voice behind them, but she wasn’t ready to let the ensign go. Not yet.
Now that things were resolved between them, she could let herself enjoy the
pleasure of some company. Aside from Sophie, she had no one even close to her
age in Bath to speak to, and sometimes loneliness threatened to overwhelm her.
There were her two young charges to speak to, of course, but it was quite
another matter to have a friend. It was nice to chatter on with the ensign; even
if there was no possibility he would respond.

“You know, I work for Lord Bradbury. He has two daughters, and
I am their governess. Sophie—” she nodded in Sophie’s general direction “—works
as their personal seamstress. Before Sophie came to Bath a few months ago, I had
no one with whom I could speak freely. But now she is here, and I’ve met you.
What a delight to have two young people I can chat with.”

She slanted her gaze up at him. A delightful smile crept over
his face, as though he too had discovered a treasure. A warm glow lit Lucy’s
heart. He was a gentle soul. That much was certain. And had probably suffered a
great deal. It would be a joy to talk with him and to bring that smile back to
his face.

From some distance away, a clock began tolling the hour.
Botheration. She should be returning to Lord Bradbury’s house soon. She needed
to supervise her charges’ luncheon; for if she were not present, the girls were
likely to fire dinner rolls at each other like cricket balls.

“I must go.” It was difficult to let him go. But perhaps she
could see him again soon. “Will you be at the next veterans’ group meeting? I
don’t know when they meet, but I can find out from Sophie.”

He nodded, smiling once more.

“Sophie,” she called up the steps. Sophie broke away from the
lieutenant’s side and began her descent. Lucy turned to the ensign. “Ensign
Rowland, it’s been a pleasure to meet you. And I look forward to tormenting you
with the classics soon. I have a great fancy for Greek epic works, so
beware.”

His polite smile grew into a devastating grin, and her heart
flip-flopped in her chest once more. She withdrew her hand from his sleeve
slowly, savoring the moment. It would be nice to see him again.

Sophie danced up beside them, her eyes bright with merriment.
They made their goodbyes, the ensign tipping his hat with a practiced, genteel
gesture as he took his leave. Sophie linked her arm with Lucy’s as they began
strolling toward the Crescent, the balmy spring breeze rustling their skirts.
And while Sophie babbled on about the lieutenant and her harebrained scheme to
save him from his meddling mama, Lucy’s mind drifted.

Though she made her usual barbed responses to Sophie’s
nonsense, Lucy was far from her friend’s side. Instead, she wandered down the
steps once more with the ensign, remembering his somber green eyes and his
crooked, heartbreaking grin. The veterans’ meeting, which she hardly knew about
before this day, was now the most important event on her horizon.

As they approached his lordship’s home, she looked up at the
second-story window that housed the schoolroom. Of course, nothing could really
come of her interaction with the ensign other than friendship. She was nothing
but a poor governess, and she had to earn her own way in the world. Any girlish
dreams of romance had to remain just that—dreams and nothing more. She had no
time for love. And she had a duty to her charges.

And, after all, she had been asked to help the ensign not for
her beauty or eligibility but because she was a governess. And a governess she
would remain for the rest of her days. She dearly hoped that she and the ensign
would become good friends. But friends were all they could ever be.

* * *

Ensign James Rowland smiled as he watched Miss Lucy
Williams walk off arm in arm with the pretty blonde Miss Handley who had
captured Cantrill’s interest. Lucy didn’t mind that he could not speak, which
had made him quite comfortable in her company. In fact, he was more at ease with
her than he had been with anyone outside his tight circle of fellow
soldiers.

It helped, of course, that she was quite attractive herself,
but in a more unique way than her blonde friend. She had glossy black hair piled
high on her head, wide brown eyes and a fascinating sprinkle of freckles across
her nose and cheeks. Most women, out of coquetry or sense of fashion, would use
some type of artificial means to hide or remove those supposed imperfections.
But not Lucy. They added spice to her person, like a sprinkle of cinnamon across
a particularly tasty dish.

For the first time since his return from Waterloo, he was
intrigued by someone else. Everything looked gray and sounded like it was
wrapped in cotton wool since that horrible day he lay bleeding and silent in the
rye at La Sainte Haye. But in Lucy’s warm brown eyes, he captured a glimpse of
life. And that brief spark glowed in his heart as Lieutenant Cantrill joined him
on the street below Saint Swithin’s.

“Come, Rowland, let us return home.” Cantrill sighed. “I have
much preying upon my mind this afternoon, and I need to think matters over.”

Whatever Cantrill and Miss Handley had spoken of apparently
drove the lieutenant to distraction. He spoke hardly a word on the
fifteen-minute walk back to Beau Street to the modest flats that several
soldiers had called home since their return from the peninsula. Of course, it
didn’t matter that the lieutenant didn’t speak. In fact, Rowland couldn’t expect
anyone to make conversation with a man who only uttered a word now and
again.

He nodded his goodbye to Cantrill, who lived on the ground
floor flat, and took the steps two at a time to reach the flat he shared with
Lieutenant Sean Macready, a fellow officer of the 2nd Battalion 69th.

As he entered their humble flat, the delectable aroma of beef
stew greeted him, causing his mouth to water. The housekeeper must be here.
Thank heavens. They shared servants with Lieutenant Cantrill; this kept Mrs.
Pierce bustling up and down stairs all day long, though she insisted she did not
mind. And her stew, heated and reheated, formed their sustenance for many days,
growing richer and mellower with each passing day.

“What ho, man?” Macready beckoned him into the kitchen, where
he sat at the rickety oak table, a steaming bowl before him. “Mrs. Pierce just
left to take the lieutenant his lunch. Try the bread first with a dab of butter.
It’s a poem.”

With a grateful grunt, James grabbed a plain white china bowl
from the cupboard and filled it to the brim with stew. Then he hacked off the
end of the loaf of bread—so warm that it singed his fingers a bit—and sat across
from Macready at the table.

“Good gracious, man. I haven’t seen you eat so heartily since
before the war.” Macready leaned forward, eyeing James suspiciously. “What has
gotten into you?”

James shrugged, keeping his eyes cast down. Nothing
extraordinary had happened, had it? He was just hungry was all.

He split the bread open, patting butter on the inside and then
closed it so the middle of the bread would become more moist as the butter
melted. His favorite childhood treat, much more coveted than a cookie or a slice
of cake.