Read Saving Grace (The Grace Series Book 2) Online
Authors: Elizabeth Courtright
Saving Grace (The Grace Series Book 2) (33 page)
Sneak Peek
Healing Grace
Elizabeth Courtright
June 1881
From the wooded bluff, a lone Klansman on horseback viewed the enveloping property with the immense white house at its helm. Farther away in the yard near the stable he could see three colored men at work, shoveling horse manure. Near them a number of colored children romped. Even from the distance the Klansman saw their smiles. He heard their laughter.
They sickened him.
Everyone at Grace Manor sickened him.
He waited, watching from his place in the trees until darkness descended. By then, the yard was empty. The colored people were long gone. The lamps brightening the inside of the manor would make it impossible for anyone to look out through the windows. No one would see him closing in.
From his new vantage point on a rise of ground not more than a few yards away, he could see directly into the parlor. Two children were on the floor. The boy, in blue trousers and a checkered shirt, was on his stomach lining up toy soldiers. The girl, younger than the boy, was adorned in a frilly pink dress. She was pretending to feed a doll.
Their doll-like mother was at one end of the sofa. The knitting needles in her fingers flew. She was making an afghan, the completed portion of which was spread across her lap. The Klansman could see her lips move, but the window was closed. He couldn’t hear what she said.
On the opposite end of the sofa a man lounged. His long legs were sprawled out in front of him. His dirty blond hair was long enough to be tied back at his nape. There was a book open on the cushion beside him, but he wasn’t reading it. His attention was on the pink-wrapped infant he held in the crook of one arm. Where his other arm should be, his sleeve was rolled and pinned in place.
The only other occupant of the room was seated in a wing chair. The stout old man had silver hair and a full beard of the same hue. The Klansman watched him rise, only to lower his bulk awkwardly to the floor to be with the boy and girl. Before long, he was on his back with the children climbing onto him. He picked up the little girl and lifted her high in the air. Even though the Klansman couldn’t hear, he could tell from her dimpled expression she was squealing with glee. Her lips moved and she hollered, “Grampie! Grampie!”
The Klansman hated them.
He hated them all.
Finally, the children vied for the honor of yanking on their grandfather’s hands to help him to his feet. The old man rolled himself up. Each of the children received a hug for their assistance. In the chaos of farewells, the baby received a kiss on the forehead, and the mother, a kiss on the cheek. The one-armed man got a pat on the shoulder.
It was time for the Klansman to move. He steered his mount away from the house and back to where he’d hidden earlier. From there, by moonlight, he watched the old man saunter across the lawn to the barn. When he emerged, a few minutes later, he was on horseback.
The old man was the worst kind of enemy—a traitor.
They all were. They all deserved what was coming to them.
Keeping a decent distance to prevent being noticed, the Klansman followed. There were bends in the well-worn roadways, and bushes and trees that, at times, caused him to lose sight of the old man, but it didn’t matter. He knew where the old man was going, and he was familiar with the terrain between Grace Manor and the old man’s destination.
Not long after the old man turned from the main path to the last leg of his journey—a fairly isolated stretch that would lead him home—the Klansman made his move. With revolver drawn, he barreled after the old man, not drawing rein until he was a scant few yards away.
Hearing the charge behind him, the old man maneuvered to the side of the road and turned around. His mount pranced and snorted, appearing as startled and alarmed as the old man. It took a moment for the animal to settle, but the Klansman didn’t lose patience. As soon as the night was silent and still, his thumb settled on his weapon and slowly pressed. The clicks of the hammer connecting with flint resounded loudly. It echoed in the Klansman’s ears, but he didn’t lower his arm, or take his eyes away.
“What do you want?” the old man said. “I don’t have any money on me.”
To disguise his voice, the Klansman roughened it. “Get off your horse!”
While the old man did as ordered, the Klansman was patient again. The old man was fat, so getting off a horse wasn’t an easy thing to do. As long as it took, no matter how much the old man teetered, the Klansman’s aim didn’t falter.
“What do you want from me?” the old man repeated. “I told you, I don’t have any money.”
I don’t want your money!
A simple pull of the trigger and a bullet would lodge deep in the old man’s skull. It was time.
“For your treachery against the Klan, you shall die!” The Klansman’s finger curled in until the metal of the trigger gouged into the folds of skin on the underside of his knuckle.
The old man didn’t cower. He didn’t try to run. He remained where he was, with his hands at his sides, with his chin raised, waiting for his penance.
He isn’t afraid. I knew he wouldn’t be afraid.
The Klansman could hear his own breath heaving. Each inhale was louder than the last. He could feel the pounding in his chest. He didn’t have a choice. He had to do this.
Pull the trigger. Pull the trigger!
The weight of the revolver dragged on his shoulder. The ache became an acute spasm trailing to his elbow.
Pull the trigger. You have to! Pull it!
The horse under him sidestepped. The Klansman jammed his heels in. The horse reacted, bolting. He was a good horseman, easily able to maintain control without losing sight of his target. He would fire as he rode past. It would be better that way.
He couldn’t fail. If he failed, the life of another would be at stake, and he couldn’t let that happen.
He raced forward.
Luther Emerson must die!
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Thank you so much for reading
Saving Grace
, Book 2 in the Grace Series. If you enjoyed the story, please leave a rating or a review on Amazon or Goodreads.
Thank You…
All proceeds from the sale of this book benefit the Third Chance Foundation.
The Third Chance Foundation is a nondiscriminatory, nonprofit corporation which provides postsecondary scholarships to foster and adopted children. Our sole purpose is to help today’s youth achieve career goals and follow dreams. We believe there is no aspiration too trivial or undeserving.
Our scholarship funds are raised through book sales. For more information, please visit us at www.thirdchancefound.org. The more books we sell, the more scholarships we will provide!
We thank you for your contribution. By purchasing this book, you have changed a life!
“It was hard to keep a straight face!” says Elizabeth’s mother of the tales Elizabeth wrote as early as six years old. Her parents sure got a kick out of them anyway!
Today, this diehard romantic owes her inspiration and imagination to her family. Proceeds from the sales of her books benefit the Third Chance Foundation, a non-profit organization which provides scholarships to foster and adopted children, like her own. She and her husband of twenty-two years—her knight in shining armor—amidst their chaotic house full of kids and pets, consider themselves extremely blessed.
Elizabeth enjoys hearing from readers! Your questions, comments and feedback are most welcome. Please feel free to visit Elizabeth’s website at
www.elizabethcourtright.com
. Reviews can also be posted on Amazon or at
www.thirdchancefound.org
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To contact Elizabeth directly:
In the Grace Series
Healing Grace (forthcoming)
Forgiving Grace (forthcoming)
Redeeming Grace (forthcoming)
In the Unveiled Series
