Read Texas Brides Collection Online
Authors: Darlene Mindrup
Texas Brides Collection
Serena’s Strength
© 2001 by DiAnn Mills
The Reluctant Fugitive
© 2001 by Darlene Mindrup
Saving Grace
© 2001 by Kathleen Y’Barbo
An Inconvenient Gamble
© 2013 by Michelle Ule
Angel in Disguise
© 2013 by Darlene Franklin
Reuben’s Atonement
© 2006 by Lynette Sowell
The Peacemaker
© 2006 by DiAnn Mills
Outlaw Sheriff
© 2006 by Kathleen Y’Barbo
A Gamble on Love
© 2006 by Tamela Hancock Murray
Print ISBN 978-1-62029-463-5
eBook Editions:
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-62416-088-2
Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-62416-087-5
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Scripture quotations marked
KJV
are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683,
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Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses
.
Printed in Canada.
SERENA’S
STRENGTH
by DiAnn Mills
To Troy and Barbi Tagliarino.
Good friends are special gifts from God.
San Antonio, Texas, 1841
S
erena Talbot lifted her gaze to the open road and waded a wooden spoon through thick venison stew, now bubbling over an open fire. From a distance, she heard the deep throaty laughter of her pa.
“Serena, your pa’s riding in,” her ma called from the cabin. “Looks like Mr. Wilkinson is with him, too. They’re gonna want a cool drink of water.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll draw a bucket now.”
Standing, she wiped the perspiration from her reddened face with her soiled apron. Texas heat in midsummer proved unbearable, but at least the cooking could be done outside.
Serena caught sight of the two men and waved. Snatching up the water bucket and ladle, she headed toward the well.
Ranger Chet Wilkinson
. She’d just been thinking about him. In fact, he occupied quite a bit of her thoughts lately. His smile, well, it seemed to take her breath away. Good thing Pa didn’t know her fancies. He’d be lecturing her about the wild ways of Texas Rangers.
If Ma married a ranger, then why couldn’t she dream about one? But Pa knew the dangers of his rugged life and the hardships it placed on families. He didn’t want his daughter to suffer through the anguish of loving a man who risked his life each time he rode out.
“Hey, Little One,” her pa said, “you cookin’ up something good? We smelled it five miles back.”
Serena grinned at the rugged, broad-shouldered man. “You want to guess?”
“Nope, it’s venison stew, and I could eat it all myself.” He rode his red dun mare alongside the well and rested on his saddle horn. “I think I could drink up that whole bucket of water, too.”
“I’ll bring it to the barn as soon as I draw it up,” she said and turned her attention to Chet. “Evenin’, Mr. Wilkinson. We’re pleased you’re joining us for supper.”
Chet’s lopsided smile sent her pulse racing faster than Pa’s prize mare. Even in the late afternoon with shadows of evening stealing across the sky, she could see his pine green eyes peering out from under his weathered hat. Or maybe she simply envisioned them. Sometimes at night, when sleep evaded her, she wondered if those green pools ever searched her out as she did them.
“I’d be much obliged, Miss Serena. I’m mighty hungry. Your pa hasn’t stopped riding since sunup.” A tousle of sun-colored hair fell across his forehead. Hard to believe his slight frame and boyish face followed the rough road of a Texas Ranger.
“We have plenty cooked up, and Ma’s just made biscuits with fresh-churned butter.”
“I’ll be hurrying along then,” Chet said with a nod. “Won’t take long to tend to the horses and wash up.”
He’s too pretty for a Texas Ranger
, she thought.
After riding with Pa for over two years, he ought to be looking hard
.
Her pa reined his horse in the direction of the barn, and Chet followed. “Hurry on with the water, Little One,” Pa called over his shoulder.
A moment later, she untied the rope around the bucket and dropped the ladle inside. The deep springs below their land—not far from the San Antonio River—hosted the clearest, coolest water around. At least that’s what Pa always said.
“Serena, ask your pa if anyone else is expected for supper,” her ma said, stepping back inside the cabin.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll ask him now.”
Serena noticed her ma had smoothed back her pecan-colored hair and changed her apron. Ma always fussed with her looks when Pa came home. Serena hoped someday to find a special love like her parents’. They’d been together since Pa rescued Ma from a renegade band of Comanches when she’d just turned sixteen years old.
She glanced down at her worn green dress. At least she’d brushed through her hair before Pa and Chet rode up.
Toting the heavy bucket, Serena slowly made her way to the barn. She’d given up on adding a little meat to her bones. Ma called her frail; Pa called her skinny. In any event, she still looked twelve years old instead of nearly eighteen. She had height, but no outward appearances of a woman’s figure.
By the time Serena made it to the open barn door, her shoulder and arm throbbed. No one would ever hear of it, though. She felt determined to do her share of the work.
With a sigh, she stepped into the barn, and her ears perked at the sound of men’s voices.
“We ridin’ out again in the morning, Cap’n?” Chet asked.
“The following morning,” her pa replied. He seldom talked much, seemed to be always thinking on something.
She heard the
whish-whish
of the grooming brushes gliding across the horses’ sleek coats. Just as she decided to make herself known, Chet’s voice caused her to linger a moment longer.