Place to Belong (Wild West Wind Book #3) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - Lauraine Snelling

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203 pages

English

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The Exciting Conclusion to Lauraine Snelling's WILD WEST WIND SeriesAs winter settles over the ranch, the Engstrom brothers are much on the mind of Cassie Lockwood. The way Lucas smiles at her should set her heart to tripping. But it doesn't. Shouldn't there be some attraction to him if they are going to be married? His vow to make her love him does not seem to be working, no matter how considerate and charming he is.Ransom Engstrom is another matter. After Cassie's train trip to a shooting competition, she realizes she misses Ransom more than Lucas. And then there's the look she caught Lucas sending Betsy Hudson at church one Sunday. Are she and Lucas drifting apart?Meanwhile, Ransom has discovered that he cares for Cassie but can't bring himself to express his true feelings to her. When she leaves to join a Wild West show for the summer, will Ransom summon the courage to go after her?

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Historical fiction

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Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	01 avril 2013
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781441261076
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0202€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

© 2013 by Lauraine Snelling
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 2013
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.
ISBN 978-1-4412-6107-6
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The internet addresses, email addresses, and phone numbers in this book are accurate at the time of publication. They are provided as a resource. Baker Publishing Group does not endorse them or vouch for their content or permanence.
Cover design by John Hamilton Design
Every writer has to be gifted with friends who play a behind-the-scenes role of encouragement and support. One of my special friends is my assistant Cecile. We have worked together for more than ten years, and besides all her office skills, she has developed a marvelous gift of reading my mind. Amazing how much easier it is to communicate that way. I thank God for her. What a gift she is to me.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
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17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
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33
Epilogue
About the Author
Books by Lauraine Snelling
Back Ads
Back Cover
1

D ECEMBER 1906 A RGUS , S OUTH D AKOTA
J ust get out of the wagon. Cassie Lockwood swallowed hard.
“Are you all right?” Mavis Engstrom was smiling up at her. “No hurry.”
I’ll have to see them again. Look at them again. Only this time it will be daylight and close up. If the judge asks me to identify any of them, I won’t be able to. I never saw their faces. How to explain this to someone else? Her stomach clenched and she felt like two hands were squeezing her throat. Breathe. And get down. One thing at a time.
When she thought back to that night, she started to shake all over again. Gunshots in the night, voices hollering horrible things, grabbing her rifle and returning fire, the searing pain of a bullet in her arm, the wagon burning so brightly she could see men on horseback circling the cabin, the Engstroms coming over the hill but too late to do much more than scare off the intruders and pull the burning wagon away from the cabin. Then passing out from loss of blood and agony.
All that was left from her lifetime of years in the Wild West Show had burned up that night, along with the wagon she’d traveled in and lived in. The scenes of churning, crackling chaos and loss had branded on her memory. But mostly the fear and the anger. Who would do such a thing and why? All because of Chief and Runs Like a Deer. How? Who? Why hate Indians like that? What difference did it make to those men if Indians lived at the Bar E Ranch?
The men had been caught and confined in the local jail in Argus, South Dakota, awaiting a circuit judge to try and sentence them. And she had been forced to shoot a man, winging one of the perpetrators. Nightmares of that night had plagued her for weeks while she recuperated down at the ranch house, with the Engstrom family taking care of her.
All because some troublemakers got liquored up and decided to frighten away the Indians. Chief and Runs Like a Deer were certainly no threat to anyone. But the officials had not demanded that they testify, only she and the Engstrom brothers, Ransom and Lucas. She’d lost a shooting match because of the injury, but what good would it do to send these men to prison? Other than to keep them from inflicting such fury on someone else. That would certainly be a good thing.
Cassie let Lucas Engstrom, the younger brother, help her down. Lucas insisted he was in love with her, and he was certainly playing the part of the gentle, strong young swain today. She shook out the folds in her dark serge skirt and straightened her shoulders, wrapped in a dark shawl to keep out the cold of the December day. She should have worn her black wool coat, but it had grown to look shabby from the long years of use. When she had looked in the mirror, she’d perched her black hat with the fine veil on the top of her head, hoping to give her an appearance of proper fashion.
Her mother would have been proud of her, she knew. The approval in Mavis’s eyes had stilled the rampaging butterflies, but on the wagon trip to town they’d taken to cavorting again. What kind of questions would the judge ask her? What if she didn’t know the answers? She hated to remember that night but now she was being forced to. One more strike against the three men.
One more strike that fanned the no-longer-sleeping embers of anger that the memories caused. She’d lost the shooting match in Hill City due to the injury to her arm, lost the purse that would have kept them in winter supplies, including the critically needed cattle and horse feed. She who could drive nails into a log with her sharpshooting had been shot in the arm in a midnight raid on her new home. That act of injury had severely damaged everything her arm, her livelihood, her reputation as a sharpshooter, and so many dreams. She straightened her shoulders, narrowed her eyes, and gave a curt nod.
Was she ready? She most certainly was. May they rot in prison for all she cared.
The large room over JD McKittrick’s mercantile was used for community meetings and, when needed, as the courtroom. The only places larger were the churches and the school building. Mavis had told her that they hadn’t had a visit from the circuit judge in years, since most cases, what few there had been, went to Hill City for court.
With Mavis in the lead and Lucas and Ransom behind her, Cassie gathered up her skirts and climbed the creaky wooden stairs to the courtroom. Dormers with windows, along with wide windows at each end of the room gave enough light to see, but up at the table where a black-robed man waited, kerosene lamps added illumination. Several other men in black suits and ties were gathered around his table, and the only one she recognized, Sheriff Edgar McDougal, beckoned them over.
“Since Judge Cranston already dealt with the other case, we’re about ready for you all. Have a seat.” He motioned to the straight-backed chairs lined up in front of the table. One chair sat to the right side and the others to the left of the judge.
Mavis nodded. “Good morning, Judge Cranston, gentlemen. I’ve a question, if you please. Will the three be tried at the same time?”
“We’re debating that right now. Won’t be long.”
Cassie forced herself to take deep breaths. At least this wasn’t as formal as some pictures she’d seen. Formal enough, though. The judge sat at a plain old table rather than an imposing bench, but it and his chair had been set up on a platform at least two feet high. He looked down on everyone else. That was imposing enough for Cassie.
Never having been in such a situation before, she really had no idea what to expect. She turned to Mavis and whispered, “Will there be a jury?”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
They turned at the sound of more feet on the stairs. Three women came up together and nodded to those gathered.
“Those are the wives of the men on trial,” Mavis whispered to Cassie. “The first of them in the blue cape is Case’s wife, Molly. The lady in the black coat is Joe Jones’s wife; I forget her first name. They live out a ways.”
“You may sit over there.” The sheriff pointed to seats off to the right. A few more townspeople came in, and gradually the rows of chairs filled.
The judge said something and the sheriff left the room while another man moved two more chairs next to the lone one. It looked like they would try the three together.
“At least that will speed things up,” Mavis said to Cassie from behind her gloved hand. They took the straight-backed seats the sheriff had indicated, and the four of them sat down.
After greeting the Engstroms and Cassie, the reverend Brandenburg settled himself into the fifth seat.
Mavis leaned forward to nod a greeting. “Thank you for coming.”
Cassie tried to smile politely but failed. Whenever she moved her mouth, her whole face started to quiver. Lord, please get this over quickly. No, that was wrong, her whole body quivered like the golden aspen leaves she’d so admired. Shaking like this in public was not admirable. Why was it she could perform in front of hundreds of spectators but this trial was turning her into a mass of jelly?
The stairs creaked loudly. The sheriff and two other men came in escorting the three prisoners. Together they made their way to the front of the room and faced the judge’s table. The deputies transferred the handcuffs to the arms of the chairs and stepped back.
“All ready?” the judge asked the sheriff.
“Yes, sir, everyone is here that needs to be.” At the judge’s nod, he announced, “All rise. Court is in session, the honorable magistrate Homer Cranston presiding.”
They all stood and then sat down again after the judge sat.
Cassie studied the man who would most likely change several lives this day. The silver-haired judge looked to be in need of a haircut and an extra night’s sleep. Deep creases in his face, from nose to chin, deepened further when the lines in his forehead flattened out. He didn’t look like he smiled much.
He scowled, looking around the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, I want to