Cherished Mercy (Heart of the Frontier Book #3) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - Tracie Peterson

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155 pages

English

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The Inspiring Conclusion to Tracie Peterson's Heart of the Frontier SeriesMercy Flanagan survived the Whitman Massacre as a child, and now her heart's cry is for peace between the native peoples and the white settlers inhabiting Oregon Territory. Unfortunately, most of the settlers would rather the tribes were removed from the land completely, one way or the other, and tensions are rising. Mercy has grown tired of Oregon City and feels that she has a larger purpose in life, so when she learns that family friend Eletta Browning is pregnant, she travels south to the Rogue River Valley to help. At the Rogue River Mission, Mercy meets Eletta's brother-in-law, Adam, who has suffered a broken engagement. Mercy finds him attractive, but Adam seems determined to focus on ministering to the local tribes and keeps Mercy at arm's length.When tragedy strikes and tensions in the territory reach the boiling point, Mercy is pushed to the limit of her strength. She and Adam must rely on their firm faith in God in order to make it out alive.

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Historical fiction

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Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	05 septembre 2017
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781441265449
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	3 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0461€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
© 2017 by Peterson Ink, Inc.
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2017
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4412-6544-9
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
This is a work of historical reconstruction; the appearances of certain historical figures are therefore inevitable. All other characters, however, are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Cover design by LOOK Design Studio
Cover photography by Aimee Christenson
Dedication
In memory of Phillip DeShazer
I was joyfully there when you came into the world and sadly was there when you departed. You were an amazing young man, and I know you will be missed by so many. I look forward to seeing you again one day, sweet nephew.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
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10
11
12
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About the Author
Books by Tracie Peterson
Back Ads
Back Cover
Chapter 1
O CTOBER 1855 O REGON C ITY , O REGON T ERRITORY
P ush, Hope. You have to push,” Grace commanded.
Mercy Flanagan wiped her sister’s forehead as she labored to give birth to her baby. After ten hours of intense pain, Hope had clearly weakened.
Looking to their eldest sister, Grace, Mercy grimaced. “I thought you said second babies come faster.” Hope had given birth two years earlier without a lengthy labor, and they had all presumed she would do the same again.
“They usually do, but the one thing you must remember about babies is that no two births are ever identical. They are as different as the babies being born.” Grace turned her attention back to Hope and the unborn child. “Your baby is almost here. Now give me a big push. Bear down with all your strength.”
“I haven’t . . . got any . . . strength . . . left,” Hope replied, falling back against the pillow.
“Mercy, when I tell you, I want you to help Hope sit up. Support her shoulders and push her forward.” Hope grimaced and cried out. Grace nodded at Mercy. “Now.”
It wasn’t easy, but Mercy managed to slip in behind Hope and raise her up at the same time.
“Push, Hope. The baby is coming now.”
Mercy felt Hope tense as she did her best to obey. Grace took hold of the baby’s head as it emerged and then rotated the baby as the shoulders emerged. After that, the infant slid easily from Hope’s body.
“It’s another boy,” Mercy whispered against Hope’s ear.
“A boy? Truly? Sean will have a little brother.”
“This farm is going to be overrun with children if you and Grace keep having babies,” Mercy teased. Already she was aunt to Grace’s two children, Gabe and Nancy, and there would be a third in the spring. Now Hope had brought another boy to join her two-year-old son, Sean.
Grace cut the cord, then lifted the baby by his heels and smacked him on the bottom. He started to cry almost immediately.
Mercy smiled and brushed back Hope’s damp hair. “He’s got a great set of lungs.”
“That he does,” Grace agreed. “Mercy, I want you to care for him. Hope, you’re not quite done yet, as you well know.”
Birthing was hard work, but so too the aftermath. Mercy had been present at the delivery of all but one of her sisters’ babies and would no doubt help in Grace’s third in March. She came from a long line of women who practiced healing arts and midwifery. Mercy had never thought herself all that interested in learning such a craft, but over the past few years, she had found it more and more appealing, and Grace had patiently taught her all she could.
Mercy took the towel-wrapped infant from Grace even as Hope called out. “I want to see him.”
The baby cried even louder—if that was possible. “Let me make him presentable first.”
“He’s more than fine just the way he is,” Hope replied. “Please.”
Without waiting for Grace’s approval, Mercy took him to Hope. There was no hesitation as Hope reached for him. She pulled him close and pushed back the towel to examine every inch of him.
“He’s beautiful,” she said, a sob breaking from her throat.
“He is,” Grace agreed, “but you have to let Mercy tend to him. There are things that must be done to ensure his health.”
Taking the baby in her arms, Mercy smiled down at her nephew. “What are you going to call him?”
“Edward, after Uncle Edward,” Hope murmured. “And Flanagan for our maiden name. Edward Flanagan Kenner.”
Mercy nodded. “Hello, Edward.” She frowned. “That seems like much too formal a name for a baby. I’m going to call him Eddie.”
“Lance will like that. He has a good friend named Eddie.”
The baby began to calm. He looked up at Mercy with eyes the color of sapphires—eyes like his mother’s. “Come, Eddie, let’s clean you up.”
“Uncle Edward will be touched you chose to call him that,” Grace said.
“Well, we named the first one Sean Howard after both our fathers, so I thought it only right. Uncle Edward did so much to help us after we came to Oregon City,” Hope replied.
Mercy nodded and began to wash the baby. “Indeed he did.” Eddie didn’t care for the procedure at all and began to kick up a storm. “Gracious, I think he’s going to have your temperament, Hope.” She glanced over her shoulder with a smile, then turned her attention back to the infant. “I will soon be done, Master Kenner, and then you will feel so cozy with warm clothes and a blanket.”
Mercy continued her tender care, using generous portions of vinegar water, as she had done with other newborns. Her mother and grandmother had been firm believers in the multiple curative powers of vinegar, and it was something they had handed down to their daughters.
Once she had Eddie properly bathed, Mercy put an herbal salve on the stub of umbilical cord, then secured a band around it. After this she diapered and dressed him.
“There you are, little man,” she said, lifting him carefully. She wrapped a blanket around him, lest the damp autumn air cause him to catch a chill. The baby calmed and looked up at her, his blue eyes open fully. “You really are quite handsome.” She took him to Hope and lowered him into his mother’s arms. “He’s finally ready to be with you.”
“And I’m finished as well,” Grace declared. “So you may invite Lance to come meet his new son.” She rose and began collecting the bloody towels and afterbirth pan.
Mercy smiled. She loved bringing in the father almost as much as caring for the newborns. She left her sisters and went downstairs to find Lance. It wasn’t hard to locate him. He sat with Sean on the floor of the living room, playing with wooden blocks. At the sight of Mercy, however, he jumped to his feet.
“Is she all right? Is the baby all right?”
“They’re both fine.” Mercy gave his arm a pat. “You may go see her now, and your new son.”
Lance grinned. “Another boy?” He looked down at little Sean, who was doing his best to stack one block atop three others. “You hear that, Sean? You have a baby brother.”
“Brudder,” Sean repeated, but his mind was clearly on his task.
“Go on now. I’ll stay with Sean.” Mercy didn’t have to tell him twice. Lance all but ran from the room. No doubt he’d take the stairs two at a time.
She knelt down beside the handsome little boy and brushed back his brown curls. “Would you like to eat?” Her own stomach felt empty, and she knew it was well past lunchtime.
Sean abandoned his blocks and threw himself into Mercy’s arms. “Eat now, pease.”
She laughed and got to her feet, shifting Sean to her hip. “Well, since you are so polite, I think we can arrange that. Let’s see what your mama has in the kitchen.”
Lance and Hope had continued to live on the Armistead Farm, as it was called. The house and outbuildings surrounding it belonged to Grace and Alex, but both were keen to keep their family close. After marrying, Hope and Lance had taken up residence in the small log house where they had all lived before Grace and Alex built their larger farmhouse. Mercy had always been grateful that Alex cared for her and Hope as if they were his own sisters. It had saved both of them from having to seek out husbands before they were ready. Far too often Mercy had seen her friends marry young, and not always happily. Her former best friend, Beth Cranston, had married the preacher’s son, Toby Masterson, at the tender age of fifteen. This had happened after Mercy refused him. Toby had begged Mercy to marry him so that he could claim additional acreage in the Donation Land Claim Act. Mercy had turned him down, and in that one move, lost her two dearest friends. It hadn’t been easy to bear.
“But that was five years ago,” she reminded herself.
Sean grabbed her dress collar and began pulling it toward his mouth. Mercy laughed and pried it away from him. “Dresses aren’t for eating, Sean.”
Balancing him on her hip, Mercy found the bread and butter. There would no doubt be jam as well. The sisters had canned over two hundred pints of apple, berry, and pear jams and jellies that summer. Opening the cupboard, she found an open jar of apple jam.
“Here we go. This ought to be good for a start.” She put the food on the table and went back to retrieve a knife.
“I want some bread,” Sean declared.
“I know you do.” Mercy settled herself at the table with Sean on her lap. “That’s why I’m making this piece just for you.” She paused to give him a quick peck on the cheek, then