Tracie Peterson

Copyright

ISBN 978-1-55748-667-7

Copyright © by Tracie Peterson. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 721, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

All scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. niv®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.

One

D
o you have everything you need, my dear?”

Her grandmother’s heavy French accent only increased Pamela Charbonneau’s misery. “I have nothing at all,” she pouted.

Claudia Charbonneau shrugged her shoulders. “Life is what one makes it,
n’est-ce pas?”

“No, it isn’t so,” Pamela insisted, tossing her stylish blond curls from side to side. Only an hour earlier, Claudia’s own maid had painstakingly pinned and curled Pamela’s waist-length hair, and now she threatened to bring it all back down with her childish tantrum. “I’m eighteen years old, and so far my life is only what others force upon me. I am not allowed to make my life my own!”

“Ma petite fille
, you bring most of the trouble upon yourself.”

“But
Grand-mère,”
Pamela interrupted, “I’m in love, and my parents don’t understand. Bradley Rayburn means the world to me. My parents were cruel and vicious to make me leave him and Kansas City. It’s my home, and he’s the man I intend to marry.”

“Marry him?” Claudia Charbonneau replied with her first show of disgust. “I cannot see why a young woman such as yourself would want to settle down to marriage and the unpleasantness of childbearing before you have a chance to see the world and all that it has to offer. Perhaps then your Bradley Rayburn would hold less fascination for you.”

“Impossible,” Pamela protested, bringing herself up to her full five-foot, two-inch height. Claudia was no taller than her granddaughter, but because of her elegance and refinement Pamela felt as though the woman towered over her by a foot.

“I love him!” Pamela cried. “I will always love him, and as soon as I can figure a way to leave this south Missouri hick town, I will!”

Claudia was not impressed by her granddaughter’s show of temper. It was all to be expected. Pamela’s parents had never spent enough time at home to rear the child when she was young, so she had learned her values and principles from nannies and house staff. When her father and mother finally reappeared, it was just in time to find a local ne’er-do-well dandy keeping company with their daughter—and with the audacious intention of marrying her!

“It would be well if you learned to appreciate this town for its quiet reserve and charm,” Claudia was saying, but Pamela had angrily turned away.

“I hate it here, already,” Pamela muttered and whirled on her heel. “Nobody loves me! Nobody but Bradley!” With that Pamela threw herself across the feather mattress of her bed and cried.

Claudia Charbonneau shook her head and left her granddaughter to have her cry. It was the fourth that day. Sooner or later, Pamela would have to understand that what was done was done, and no amount of tears would change that fact.

❧

At noon, Pamela finally emerged from her bedroom to join her grandmother for lunch. She sat at the opposite end of the elegant table, watching her grandmother instruct her servants in a low voice, her words inaudible to Pamela.

When Claudia finished, she gave Pamela a polite nod and lifted a sterling fork. “Shall we begin?”

Pamela ate in miserable silence. Her grandmother had instructed her only that morning that too much conversation at the dinner table would lead to upsetting the delicate balance of one’s stomach. Pamela was full to the rim of her reddened eyes with rules that her grandmother intended her to follow.

She was not to leave the house unescorted.

She was not to drink anything cooler than room temperature.

She was not, under any circumstance, to appear outside of the house before ten o’clock in the morning, and she was never to speak to anyone before Claudia’s introduction.

Rules, rules, rules! Pamela thought she’d burst from frustration. At least in Kansas City there hadn’t been a list of rules to follow. Her parents traveled abroad so often that Pamela had had a free rein. The servants adored her, and
she in turn bestowed on them the love she would have given her parents, had
they been around to receive it.

Now she was here—and she wasn’t even sure where
here
really was. She’d been forced to take the train south from Kansas City, then travel by stage to this small Missouri community where her grandmother had spent the last few years. All this traveling was in order to separate her from Bradley.

Oh, Bradley!
Pamela sighed, remembering his boyish smile and curly blond hair. Friends had teased her, saying she would have nothing but blond-headed babies and that, because she and Bradley were such a handsome couple, their children would no doubt be beautiful.

Lifting a forkful of curried chicken to her mouth, Pamela ate while barely tasting the food. Although the scene her parents had caused on the night of her engagement party was almost more than Pamela could bear to remember, she could not help thinking about it.

They were supposed to be in New York for at least another week, and Pamela had planned an elaborate party at which to announce her engagement. She reasoned that her parents couldn’t possibly tell her “no” after all Kansas City’s social elite turned out to wish her and Bradley well. But something had happened to bring them home early. Perhaps they’d caught wind of the party, or maybe someone had deliberately sent for them. Either way, Pamela would never forgive her father for the way he had barged into the formal dining room, where forty people were celebrating her engagement, and announced that there would be no wedding. If that weren’t bad enough, he had ordered Bradley thrown out of the house and Pamela to her room.

“He treated me like a child,” Pamela muttered.

“Did you say something?” Claudia asked with a look of annoyance.

Pamela stiffened. “No,” she lied. “I was just thinking aloud.”

So her life went on that January of 1883. Pamela was a prisoner in her grandmother’s home while Bradley was somewhere in Kansas City, no doubt nursing a broken heart.

❧

Alexandra Dawson—Zandy to her friends and family—finished buttoning her burgundy wool coat before seeking out her husband.

“I’m ready to go,” she said, entering the manly confines of Riley Dawson’s office.

“Not without a kiss,” he said and patted his lap. Zandy smiled and quickly crossed the room to comply.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she whispered against his ear.

Hugging her close, Riley couldn’t help but feel as though he were the most blessed man in the world. Not that long ago, he had confronted Zandy with the experience of seeing him for the first time in over a year. To make matters worse, the encounter took place after she had thought him dead and buried.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, pulling back just far enough to meet his brown-black eyes.

“Just how very good God has been to me,” Riley answered.

Zandy appreciated his words of praise for God, especially remembering how adamantly Riley had rejected Him when they had first met.

“It seems hard to believe that I’m the same man who gambled his way into ownership of a Colorado mining town and tried to force his attentions on one young, beautiful, and very naïve girl.”

“I was not naïve!” Zandy protested. “You didn’t get what you wanted, did you?”

Riley laughed. “As a matter of fact, I did. I just didn’t get it the way I intended.”

Zandy joined his laughter. “No, God had other plans for you, Riley Dawson, and making me your mistress wasn’t one of them. You may own enough silver mines to pave the streets of Denver, but when you deal with me, you deal with my God.”

“Our God,” Riley said in a contented way that warmed Zandy’s heart.

“Yes,” she murmured. “Our God.”

Riley pulled her face down to meet his and kissed her long and lovingly. Zandy snuggled up against him like a child being cradled.

“I thought you were going into town,” Riley mused.

“I am.”

“It doesn’t appear that way to me,” he teased.

“Shows what you know,” Zandy countered with a twinkle in her green eyes. “I’m already halfway down the street.”

Riley laughed and put her from his lap. “You’d best get on your way before I decide you shouldn’t go out on a cold day like this.”

“As if that would stop me,” Zandy called over her shoulder. “By the way,” she added, as she paused at the door, “do you need anything?”

“Only you,” Riley replied and pushed back the black hair that had fallen over one eye.

“I believe you could use a haircut. Maybe you should come with me,” Zandy offered.

Riley shook his head. “No, I’ve got to see to these accounts. Your father is doing a fine job of managing the city of Dawson for us, but he always feels better when I give him my report on the matter. You run along, and when you get back I’ll play you a game of chess.” Zandy nodded and happily took herself off to do her shopping.

❧

Zandy entered Mrs. Mallory’s dress shop at exactly eleven o’clock. She had promised to come for a dress fitting, and Mrs. Mallory hated it when anyone was as much as a minute late.

“Good morning, Mrs. Mallory,” Zandy said, pulling off her black leather gloves.

“Good morning, Mrs. Dawson. I have your dress nearly finished,” the heavyset woman said, coming to help Zandy off with her coat. “You know where to change your clothes. I’ll bring the dress to you shortly.”

Zandy nodded and took herself into the small adjoining fitting room. She quickly changed out of her blouse and skirt and accepted the new creation of cream-colored velvet.

“I’ll do up the buttons for you,” Mrs. Mallory said, taking Zandy in hand as though she were a small child. “You have such a fine figure to work with. Pity I can’t take more after you and less after my husband.”

Zandy giggled slightly at the reference to Mrs. Mallory’s portly husband. “You have a grace that poor Mister Mallory could never hope to achieve.”

Mrs. Mallory smiled and stepped back to survey her work. “Yes, this looks perfect.”

Zandy couldn’t see the mirror from where she stood, but she liked the feel of the gown and knew that Mrs. Mallory wasn’t one to offer idle praise.

The older woman worked diligently at the task of tacking black jets to the bodice and finished by taking a final tuck in the waist.

“I’ll have it ready on Saturday,” Mrs. Mallory said abruptly. She unbuttoned the gown and moved away. “You may change now.”

Zandy was used to these curt dismissals from her dressmaker. Mrs. Mallory was one of the few people in town who didn’t love to spend hours chatting about nothing in particular.

Zandy quickly replaced the elegant gown with her more durable blue wool skirt and white blouse. She had just reentered the front room when the bell on the door sounded and two women entered.

“Mrs. Charbonneau,” Zandy said, extending her hand to the older woman. “I was going to stop by today and thank you for the invitation to dinner and, of course, to accept.”

“Madame Dawson,” Claudia remarked with a smile, “it is always a pleasure to speak with you. Might I introduce my granddaughter? This is Pamela Charbonneau, formerly of Kansas City.”

Zandy’s eyes left the older woman and traveled to the obviously miserable younger one. “Miss Charbonneau, it’s wonderful to make your acquaintance.”

“Mrs. Dawson,” Pamela said with a questioning interest.

“Please, call me Zandy. May I call you Pamela?”

“Please do,” Pamela replied.

“I must be on my way,” Zandy announced, pulling on her coat, “but, I wonder, would you like to stop by for tea this afternoon?”

“Oh my,” Claudia said, holding a lace-edged handkerchief to her throat. “I know I won’t have the energy for such an outing, but perhaps Pamela would enjoy it. I would so like for her to spend time getting to know you.”

Pamela appeared to perk up. “I’d love to. Thank you, Mrs. Dawson. I mean, Zandy.”

“Good. I’ll expect you at three,” Zandy bade the women good-bye and went to finish her rounds in town.

❧

At three o’clock, Pamela arrived in a hansom carriage of lacquered black and gold. She felt as though a yoke had been lifted from her neck as she approached the cobblestone walkway that led to the Dawson mansion. It was an impressive two-storied house of natural stone with a black wrought-iron fence surrounding the yard.

Bradley and I could have had something like this
, she thought.
What am I saying? We’ll still have something like this. I’ll find a way to get back to Kansas City. Maybe Mrs. Dawson can even help me.
The thoughts ran in whirlwinds in Pamela’s mind as she reached out and sounded the brass door knocker.

Expecting an old butler, Pamela opened her mouth in surprise at the dashing figure in his navy blue afternoon suit. She didn’t know who this dark-headed man was, but he was certainly handsome.

“Miss Charbonneau, I presume,” Riley said, extending his hand. “I’m Riley Dawson, Zandy’s husband.”

Pamela eased her gloved hand into Riley’s. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mister Dawson.”

Riley smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. The glint in his eyes made it clear he was a man who enjoyed life. “Call me Riley, and come inside, please. It’s much too cold to stand gabbing on the steps.”

Pamela allowed Riley to usher her to the sitting room where Zandy was already fussing over the tea. “Pamela!” she exclaimed and quickly crossed the room. “I’m so glad you could come.”

“Me too. I was beginning to fret that there would be no one my own age in this town,” Pamela confessed.

Zandy laughed. “I know full well what you mean. This seems to be a community of stately, refined characters, who have nothing better to do than garden and take naps. But it is a wonderful town. So peaceful and simple. Riley and I have grown to love it dearly.”

Pamela tried to catch Zandy’s enthusiasm but could only nod.

“Riley, take Pamela’s coat and we’ll have tea,” Zandy instructed.

Pamela stayed for over an hour and thoroughly enjoyed herself. She found that once the formalities dropped away, Riley and Zandy were entertaining companions and more than accepting of her. She even relayed a bit of her plight and why she’d come to stay with her grandmother.