Trusting Grace (Virtues and Vices of the Old West Book #3) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - Maggie Brendan

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169 pages

English

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All of her life, Grace Bidwell has longed for a loving husband and children, but now the chances of her dreams coming true are looking slim. Widowed and caring for her elderly father, she struggles to maintain her late husband's ranch, until she places an ad for a hired hand.Robert Frasier arrives in town with three pitiful, bedraggled children who have nothing but the tattered clothes on their backs and a load of hurt, pride, and anger. Believing this is divine intervention in her life, Grace welcomes them with open arms. As feelings grow between her and Robert, Grace will have to convince him that she is a woman who can be trusted with his heart.Readers will be swept away into 1860s Montana's lush Gallatin Valley, nestled among towering mountains and proud pines, in this emotional conclusion to the Virtues and Vices of the Old West series.

Sujets

Historical romance

Informations

Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	02 mai 2017
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781493407132
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0360€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Title Page
Copyright Page
© 2017 by Maggie Brendan
Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www.revellbooks.com
Ebook edition created 2017
Ebook corrections 01.12.2022
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 978-1-4934-0713-2
Scripture quotations labeled NASB are from the New American Standard Bible®, copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. (www.Lockman.org)
Some Scripture quotations, whether quoted or paraphrased by the characters, are from the King James Version of the Bible.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Praise for The Trouble with Patience
“Brendan delivers a charmingly quirky and endearing romance that reveals how love and faith can heal two damaged souls.”
— Library Journal
“This is a sweet love story with plenty of nods to the iconic Old West, complete with rough gunslingers, vigilante posses, and breathless shootouts.”
— Booklist
Praise for A Sweet Misfortun e
“Historical fiction readers will love this tale of finding oneself and figuring out what is truly important in life.”
— RT Book Reviews , 4 stars
“Brendan gives readers a delicious taste of the expansiveness and the demands of life and love on the frontier.”
— Booklist
“[Brendan is] a true master of the Romance Fiction genre. A Sweet Misfortune is very highly recommended.”
— Midwest Book Review
Dedication
For those who suffer with CIDP—may you always keep the faith and look forward to your new, imperishable body that awaits you in heaven.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Endorsements
Dedication
Epigraph
1
2
3
4
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Epilogue
Author’s Note
About the Author
Books by Maggie Brendan
Back Ads
Back Cover
Epigraph

Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous: love does not brag and is not arrogant.
1 C ORINTHIANS 13:4 NASB
1

Gallatin Valley Montana Territory Spring 1866
Grace Bidwell pushed her way through the busy mercantile store in the bustling town of Bozeman, certain that it would be the most beneficial place to post a H IRED H ELP sign for everyone to see. She had no choice in the matter—if Bidwell Farms was to remain in operation, then she must have help. Otherwise they’d lose the small potato farm. On her way to find Eli, the store owner, several men moved aside to allow her room, grinning at her like young schoolboys. She felt her face burn with their obvious stares and the tipping of their hats, mindful that other ladies in the store also turned to look at her. But she marched past, giving a brief nod to the ladies, most of whom she didn’t really know. Grace hadn’t much time to entertain or be involved with the ladies’ social circle, or anything else for that matter, since her father had fallen ill.
The mercantile was filled with everything anyone could need, from farm implements and pots and pans to ready-to- wear clothing, fabric, and household staples. Grace savored the mingling smells of the various items—neatly stacked or in barrels—and the scent of burning wood from the stove.
On her way to the counter, she couldn’t help but notice a band of three grubby children standing near the glass case and peering at the delectable candy displayed inside. They looked to be ranging in age from four to eleven, if she had to guess, but since she had no children of her own—a huge void that pained her sorely—she wasn’t the best judge of ages. The smallest one, a petite girl, wore a faded, dirty plaid dress, her hair a mat of tangled, golden curls.
Grace held her reticule tightly, along with the notice she’d written, and watched the children. The middle child, a slightly older girl, didn’t look much better. Her worn dress barely covered her calves and her shoes revealed cracked leather and dried mud around the edges. The boy—maybe the girls’ older brother—yanked on their arms in frustration while tucking a package beneath his thin arm. “Come on! We’ve got to leave now.” His dark hair covered most of his eyes and was badly in need of a haircut, and his pants, supported by suspenders, were extremely short. He wore no socks with his brogans.
“Please, can’t we get at least one peppermint stick to share?” the littlest one whined.
The older girl shrugged her thin shoulders. “Sarah, you already know that we don’t have any money left, so not unless you intend to stay and sweep the floor for the owner of this establishment,” she said wryly, pulling her arm from the boy’s grip.
“Maybe next time, Sarah, I promise—but not today.” The boy clamped his jaw tight, dropping Sarah’s arm.
“You have your package now, so you kids run along,” the clerk said, and shooed them in the direction of the door, nearly pushing Grace to the side and sending her rocking in her sturdy pumps.
Grace quickly steadied herself and felt compelled to step in. “Please, let me buy the children each a stick of peppermint.” The three stood motionless, staring at her with large, disbelieving eyes.
The clerk paused, turning toward her. “Mrs. Bidwell, I . . . uh, didn’t see you there. I’m sorry—”
His weak apology was completely dismissed by Grace, who reached into her reticule and handed him a few coins. Turning, she smiled at the children.
“We can’t let you do that,” the young lad protested through narrowed eyes. From his shoulder bones poking up through his shirt, it looked as though he could stand to gain some weight.
“Why not?” the youngest one asked innocently.
He looked over at her. “Because, we don’t take money from strangers.”
“Well then.” Grace drew in a quick breath. “My name is Grace Bidwell, so now we’re not strangers. It’s only a small gift for you to enjoy this sparkling, spring day. Tell your mama I meant no harm.”
“We ain’t got no mama,” he huffed, casting his expressionless eyes away from Grace.
“I’m sorry.” Grace nearly took it upon herself to correct the lad’s grammar but thought better of it.
The clerk returned, handing them each a stick of candy. With a nod to Grace, he went back to his work.
Grace frowned, noticing the older girl watching her closely. She was about to ask them their names when the lad turned to gather the girls and all three of them clomped down the steps in an obvious hurry, disappearing from Grace’s view.
Grace stared after them, thinking.
Eli strode over, tapping her on the shoulder. “Is there anything wrong, Grace?”
Grace turned around and looked into Eli’s kindly, older face. “Oh, no. Not at all. I was wondering about those children just now. I don’t believe I’ve seen them around.”
“Seems like I’ve seen the boy before, but then we have such an influx of folks in Bozeman, a man my age can barely keep up.” He chuckled.
Grace waved a gloved hand. “Oh fiddlesticks! You’re not old and still have plenty of vigor. I wish my father did.” Tears misted her vision, but she took a shaky breath and tried to put the situation out of her mind.
“I’m really sorry about your father,” Eli said, his face softening. “What can I help you with today? Did you get your field ready for planting?”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid I haven’t, and that’s exactly why I’m here.” She handed him the piece of paper. “I’ve written a notice to hire a helper with the farm. It’s just becoming too much for me.” Grace thought about how her back ached from helping her father in and out of bed, and the thought of bending in the field all day made her wince. “Do you know of someone needing work, or could I post this on your bulletin board? I’d be glad to pay you a fee.”
Eli slapped his thigh. “I don’t charge a thing for my board. I consider it a service to the community until we get a newspaper going.” He smiled, his hands on his hips. “I can’t think of a soul at the moment, but let’s go nail it up right now and see what happens. There’s always drifters and the like passing through.”
“Well, as long as they’re reliable. I need someone who’s not afraid to work.”
“Or someone who has to work and will work hard.” Eli grunted.
“That’s true. You are so kind, Eli, to me and Pop. Please stop over to see him soon. He misses you but hasn’t felt well enough to take the ride into town like he used to. It’s not easy for him,” she said, following him to where the bulletin board hung next to the service counter.
“I’ll be sure and ride over with the missus soon.” He pinned the paper at eye level where it was noticeable. “Is there anything else today?”
“No, Eli. I appreciate this, but I’d better be getting back to the farm.”
“You can repay me with some of that delicious huckleberry pie you make when I stop over.” He grinned down at her.
“I certainly shall. See you soon, and thanks again.” Grace waved to the clerk as she left, hope springing in her heart.
Before returning to the farm, she decided to stop by and say hello to her friend Ginny. Avoiding the deep ruts in the road, she crossed the street in her buggy, took a left, and stopped. She hopped out and looped the horse’s reins around the gatepost, stepped through the wrought-iron gate, and walked up to the sprawling porch to ring the bell. As she waited, Grace admired the potted plants and wicker furniture where she and Ginny had enjoyed much conversation and tea. Virginia, a South