Seeking her Daughter in the West (Preview)

Prologue

Standing on the porch of her tiny cabin in the setting sun, Emiline Lockhart realized that this was the first time in her life that she felt safe. She’d grown up in the Karnack County Orphanage, and no matter how kind the people were who worked there, there was an ever-present air of danger. The other children were positively ruthless. You never knew who was going to steal your breakfast, or who would hide tacks in your mattress, or who would take all the stuffing out of your bear and leave it in the outhouse. Emiline had felt on edge every single day of her life. She’d been temporarily adopted by a few families, but it had never really worked out. Besides, all they ever wanted her for was childcare anyway, so Emiline wasn’t too hard done by their abandonment. But still, never knowing when she’d be yanked out of another family left her feeling very uneasy.

When she was finally old enough to look after herself, Emiline had started apprenticing as a seamstress with the only woman who had ever shown her true kindness, Mrs. Abilene Murray. Mrs. Murray was an old widow who had her own tiny shop on the main strip of Karnack and had known Emiline for most of her life. She didn’t have enough money to adopt Emiline, but when she offered her the apprenticeship, Emiline thought that was better than adoption. The only problem was, she had to find somewhere she could afford to live…which was nowhere. For a short time, she’d stayed in an abandoned shed on the property of a family she used to stay with, but when it got cold, she knew she had to find somewhere else. She finally met another girl who was struggling to make ends meet named Annie, and they shared a room together in a boarding house on the edge of town. But it was not a very safe boarding house, and the two girls lived in constant fear of being robbed or worse.

But then, she’d met Jack. Jack had strolled into Mrs. Murray’s shop one afternoon, looking for a new button for his shirt. Emiline had been up front when he’d come in, and she was immediately charmed by his curly blonde hair, his dashing good looks, and his winning smile. They began courting almost immediately, and with Jack’s help, Emiline was able to move with Annie to a much safer boarding house. When Jack had proposed to her just six months after they had started courting, Emiline had enthusiastically said yes. They were wedded within the week, and Jack started building them a little place of their own on a tiny plot of land he’d acquired. By the time the cabin was ready to move into, Emiline was eight months pregnant and couldn’t have been happier. It had been two weeks since they’d moved in, and now, as Emiline stood watching Jack come home from whatever odd job he’d managed to scrounge, she realized just how very safe she felt.

“How’s my little dumpling?” Jack asked as he ascended the two small steps to reach the porch. He put one hand on Emiline’s rotund stomach and the other on her cheek, kissing her softly.

“Do you mean me or the baby?” Emiline asked with a giggle. She gazed into her husband’s dreamy eyes; they were as soft and blue as a calm ocean.

“Well, I mean the both of you, of course,” Jack said as he bent down to kiss her stomach. When he straightened up, he pushed a stray lock of straw-colored hair behind her ear. “You know you’re both my little dumplings.”

Emiline raised a quizzical eyebrow at him and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Now you’re referring to the baby as a girl? I thought you were certain this little nugget was going to be a boy!”

“A man can change his mind, can’t he?” Jack asked with a mischievous smile. “I’m now convinced that this little thing is a girl. I can feel it in my bones. What have you got cooking up for supper?”

Emiline’s blissful happiness began to drift away just a little. “Not much. I’ve got a little something cooking on the stove. Did you bring anything home with you?”

Jack suddenly looked very hurt. “Bring anything home with me? That’s not my responsibility. The cooking and the cleaning and the washing, that’s all your territory. Don’t ask me about things like that.” He stormed past her and into the cabin, shutting the door behind him with a bang. Emiline knew that Jack was a good man, but he had quite the temper. She sometimes felt scared to ask him certain things, lest he fly off the handle at her as he often did. There had been something on her mind for quite some time that she had wanted to discuss with him, but she wasn’t sure when she should do it.

Oh well, if he’s already in a foul mood now, I might as well broach the topic. It’s not like he can do anything to me; I am carrying his child, after all.

With that in mind, Emiline went into the house after Jack. He was just hanging his coat up on the hook by the door when she entered, and he did not make eye contact with her. She thought that when he got upset it was a bit ridiculous of him to be so dramatic about his emotions. He was a man; wasn’t he supposed to be stoic and emotionless? But she supposed he was angry, and anger was an emotion that a man was ‘allowed’ to feel, so she supposed that was why. Jack walked over to the sofa and laid down without taking off his muddy boots. He crossed them one over the other, and it filled Emiline with despair to watch all the grit and grime slowly falling off the boots and onto the arm. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and put her hand on her stomach, allowing her child to give her strength.

“Jack,” she began, hating how shaky her voice sounded, “I’m sorry I asked you if you had brought anything home for supper. That was improper of me, and I know it is my responsibility to take care of all the food.” She was about to continue when she saw Jack break out into a grin, hop up, and hug her. She let out a small sound of surprise.

“That’s my girl!” he said enthusiastically. He pulled away and held her at arm’s length. “Now, why don’t we go down to the creek and have a little dip? My aching bones sure could use a break, and I need to get out of this heat!” Jack turned on his heel, leaving a swirl of mud on their nice wood floor, then trudged down the hall to their bedroom. For a moment, Emiline thought about just letting it go and not bringing up what she wanted to discuss with Jack. But it had been on her mind for so long that it was becoming tiresome, so she knew it was time.

“Just a moment, Jack,” she called to him just as he reached the doorway of their bedroom. He paused and put his arm on the doorframe, smiling back at her.

“What’s bothering you, buttercup?” he asked. He sounded so nice and so caring that, for a moment, Emiline almost believed he wouldn’t have a bad reaction to her question. But she knew better. She put her shaking hands in the pockets of her apron.

“I…well, I was just wondering…” she trailed off, starting to lose her nerve. Her mind was screaming at her to drop the subject, just keep the peace so that they could have a nice swim in the creek and a good dinner together. Jack came back down the hall, leaving muddy footprints as he came. He reached into her pockets and took her hands in his, looking into her eyes.

“Why don’t you just come out and say it, peaches?” he asked. “Nothing bad is going to happen. I won’t bite.” Then, his expression changed playfully. “Unless you want me to,” he added with a smirk that made Emiline giggle.

“It’s just…” As she spoke, she could feel her heart beating faster, and that made the little one inside of her kick a little harder. It felt as though her baby was asking her not to ask Jack the question, too. But alas, she had to. She squeezed his hands, hoping and praying that he would just respond kindly. Finally, she blurted it out. “You never tell me what it is you do when you go into town for work. Why won’t you tell me? I thought one of the reasons why we got married was because we wanted to tell each other everything. But you won’t tell me this.” When she was finished speaking, Emiline held her breath. She watched Jack’s face carefully for any sign of upset, and it was soon quite evident that Jack was seriously displeased. He let go of her hands and walked away from her, coming to stand in the middle of their sitting room with his arms crossed. He glared at her.

“I told you that what I do in town is my own business,” he scolded her. “I bring home money. I provide for you, don’t I?”

“Well, yes, of course, but—” Emiline tried to interject, but Jack just continued.

“And do I ask you the details of everything you get up to every day while I’m gone, or do I trust you enough not to need that?” He was beginning to shout now.

“Jack, please, you know I didn’t mean—” No matter how hard Emiline tried, Jack just continued.

“You don’t trust me, do you?” he screamed at her. “You think I’m getting up to no good. You’re saying that I’m not a good husband! Well, I’ll show you to ever question me again, you nasty woman!” Jack grabbed her wrist with one hand and yanked her toward him. 

Emiline cried out, suddenly terrified for the safety of her and her child. Jack had never once hit her before, but he certainly seemed like he was going to now. He raised his hand, looking like he was going to strike her.

 As a final attempt to save herself, Emiline cried out, “No, please, Jack, think of the baby!” But Jack just narrowed his eyes and grimaced at her.

“This ain’t gonna hurt the baby.” With that, he brought his hand down across her face. Emiline tumbled to the floor, clutching her stomach and crying. She rolled herself up into a ball, doing everything she could to protect her little girl. If Jack struck her again, she didn’t know what she was going to do. As she lay there sobbing and shaking, Jack bent down to her. He was so close that she could smell the stink of alcohol on his breath and the sweat that clung to his clothes like burrs. “That’ll teach you. And if it hasn’t, we can repeat this as many times as you’d like. Don’t you ever, EVER ask about my goings on in town, do you understand me?” Emiline nodded, still weeping and holding herself as tight as she could. Her cheek stung so badly that she was almost certain she was bleeding. She heard Jack get up, take a step over her, and open the door. Then, he paused. “And you thought I was happy about having a little girl? Think again. If that baby comes out of you and it isn’t a boy, you won’t show your face in my house ever again, you hear me?” With that, Jack slammed the door and was gone.

Emiline stayed there on the floor for a long, long time. She let herself cry for as long as she needed and held herself like she wished someone, anyone, would hold her. But alas, there was no one. She was all by herself…except she wasn’t. She had this darling little thing growing inside of her, and now her very life was being threatened by the man she thought she loved. Emiline lay there with the mud from her husband’s boots smearing her dress and the right side of her face stinging, and realized something: she didn’t feel safe here. She never had; it must have all been a dream that she’d projected so that she would think she was happy with Jack. Had he ever really loved her? Or had he just married her because he wanted another piece of ‘property’? She thought back to when they had met and the way he had treated her when they’d first gotten together. He had been so kind, so wonderful. It was only after they got married that he started showing his true colors.

It started small. If Emiline didn’t get things as clean as he liked, he would raise a stink and sulk for the rest of the evening. Then, Emiline remembered that if she didn’t do the washing just the way he liked it, he would make her do it again. When they would go into town, Jack would never introduce her to anyone he knew, and she would be left standing there smiling placidly, secretly miserable. Then there had been the time she’d burned his birthday cake, and she had been worried he was going to hit her then, but he hadn’t. If he’d hit her this time, though, and he threatened her with more, how could she continue living in their house together? But more importantly, if he was serious about his threat to their unborn daughter, Emiline knew that she couldn’t stay. If it did turn out their baby was a girl, she wasn’t about to stand by and let him hurt her the way he had hurt Emiline.

When she’d had enough, Emiline scraped herself up off the floor. She looked at herself in the cloudy little mirror they had by the front door, and she barely recognized herself. She had mud smeared on one side and blood smeared on the other. Her eyes looked red and puffy from all the crying, and she still couldn’t stop shaking. She knew she couldn’t stay here, for herself and for her child.

Once Emiline had made up her mind, it didn’t take her very long to pack. She had only a few possessions in this world, and what little she had, she threw into her carpet bag without a second thought. She splashed some water onto her face, letting the coolness soothe her searing cheek and wash off the sickening mud. She threw her apron into the fire still burning in the stove and tied back her hair. When she was ready to leave, she took another look in the mirror and found that she had returned, just with a long cut from where Jack’s ring had torn her skin when he’d slapped her.

Emiline left the cabin and mounted her horse, Pearl. Pearl was all black and a beautiful, mild-mannered mare who Emiline had purchased with her own money as soon as she’d saved up enough from working with Mrs. Murray. The pair rode into town, taking the back roads to ensure that they didn’t meet Jack along the way. When Emiline pulled up behind Mrs. Murray’s shop, the sun was just cresting below the horizon. The young woman knew she had to hurry if she was going to catch the older woman before she closed the shop for the night.

She went in through the back door, and when her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she could see Mrs. Murray sitting hunched over her tiny sewing machine. When she heard Emiline come in, she looked over in alarm. Then, when she realized who it was, she relaxed.

“Oh, it’s just you!” Mrs. Murray said happily. She had white hair, a kind face, and her hands were quite warped by some condition that had come to her in her old age. “Did you come to collect your money?”

Emiline smiled sadly at Mrs. Murray. “Actually…I came to say goodbye.”

The old woman’s brows furrowed, and her eyes widened. “Whatever do you mean goodbye? Where are you going? Is Jack taking you away? You only just finished the house!”

Emiline shook her head and looked down at her belly. “I’m going away on my own. I…I don’t feel safe with Jack anymore. I don’t want to say much more in case he comes looking for me, but…I have to leave, Mrs. Murray.” Emiline stepped into the light of the small window beside the sewing area. When Mrs. Murray saw the cut that was still bleeding, she gasped and put her hand over her mouth, rising to embrace Emiline.

“Oh, my darling girl! No, don’t you go anywhere. You stay right here!” she cried into her chest. “I’ll hide you in my little room and you can raise your baby in there. Don’t you worry for a moment about Jack. He’ll have to go through me first!”

Emiline chuckled sadly as a tear rolled down her cheek. She’d never known this kind of kindness. “No, I can’t do that to you, Mrs. Murray. He’d come see you right away, and I couldn’t bear the thought of him hurting you. For the safety of my daughter and me, I have to go.”

Mrs. Murray pulled away and put her hands on Emiline’s chin, looking fondly at her. “Oh, my sweet dear. You’re so very, very brave. And I want you to know you’re doing the right thing, no matter what doubts you may have. Which is why I want you to have this.”

The old woman shuffled over to her sewing table, pulled open the drawer, and took something out. When she came back over to Emiline, she handed her a small leather pouch. Just by feeling it, Emiline could tell it contained the few coins that Mrs. Murray had saved over the years.

“No, I can’t take this from you,” Emiline said, trying to hand it back to Mrs. Murray. “You’ve been saving up to buy your own little place for so long, Mrs. M!”

“And I can save up for a little longer, but you can’t support yourself or your baby if you don’t have a cent to your name,” she explained, pressing the pouch into Emiline’s hand. She smiled lovingly at Emiline. “Take it, please. It will make me so happy to know that you’re taken care of, at least for a little while.”

Emiline started crying again and embraced the woman tightly. As she breathed in Mrs. Murray’s gardenia perfume, she whispered, “Thank you, Mrs. M. You have saved me.” 

They said their goodbyes to each other, and then Emiline was on her way. She put the pouch in the pocket of her dress, and each time Pearl jostled her up and down, she could feel it patting against her leg like a reassurance from Mrs. Murray that was with her the whole way.

Emiline rode through the night, making sure to stay off the roads, lest she run into any unsavory characters. She was tired and distraught, but Pearl was sturdy and consistent, and she felt all right as long as she was moving. That was, until she felt the pains come. At first, she thought little of it, figuring it was just because she’d been riding for too long. But when they started coming about ten minutes apart, Emiline had to stop. She labored all alone for about three hours, and just as the sun was coming up, she found herself holding her beautiful baby girl in her arms. When she saw her warm brown eyes staring back at her, Emiline knew that she had made the right decision. But as she rocked her little girl, Emiline knew that her most difficult decision was still to come.

When she was well enough, Emiline got back on her horse and rode just a little further. When she saw the sign for the Parnham Town Children’s Home, she knew she had ridden far enough. She wrapped up her little bundle in the shawl she had knitted herself and placed her on the steps of the orphanage. As she stood there poised to knock on the door, Emiline could feel history repeating itself. The last thing she wanted to do right now was leave her daughter, but with so little money and no prospects, she knew her child would be safer and happier here. She also knew that the chances of Jack ever finding her here were slim, whereas the chance of finding them together was far greater. An abandoned child at an orphanage didn’t stand out, but a single mother and her daughter would. And so, with tears streaming down her face, Emiline knocked on the door. She bent down and kissed her little girl one last time, whispering, “I’ll come for you someday. Don’t you worry, my darling Rose.” 

With that, Emiline ran from the orphanage and back onto her horse, disappearing into the morning sun.

Chapter One

Nineteen Years Later

“Now, were you able to find the fresh sheets, or did Miss Langham lead you on a wild goose chase?” As Rose stripped the old sheets off the Lavender Room’s bed, she could hear Aunt Maggie calling up to her. She walked over to the chest below the window where the sheets were usually kept and found it, unfortunately, empty. She walked to the door and put her hands on either side of the door frame, leaning out into the hall.

“I fear she may have left them somewhere unusual!” Rose called down to her employer. “Where do you think she might have put them?” She heard the familiar thump-thump-thump-thump of Aunt Maggie coming up the stairs, and the older woman appeared in front of her just a few moments later. Mrs. Magnolia ‘Maggie’ Carp wasn’t actually her aunt, but that was what everyone called her, so Rose did, too. She was quite a tall woman with long, black hair and cherubic cheeks. She was the kind of woman that everyone in Valliant, Oklahoma, knew and loved, but most importantly, never crossed. Right now, she was wearing her tidying apron, the white one with the patches on it, and had a rag slung over her shoulder. She stood arms akimbo, and her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth, the way it always did when she was concentrating very hard.

“I would say…” she began, looking down the hall, “give the closet under the stairs a try. If they aren’t there, I’m just going to go down the street and ask her myself. Either she is going to get used to my system, or I’m going to find myself a new laundress!”

 Rose laughed as she went the other way down the hall into the bright sunlight. She turned down the stairs, and when she reached the bottom, she checked the cupboard. Sadly, there were no sheets inside of it. She was just about to give up when she looked out the window and saw the sheets fluttering away in the summer wind on the line outside. “Found them!” she called up to Aunt Maggie as she went out the back door to the right of the window. As she bounded outside, she flung her arms out and soaked up the sun as much as she could. If Rose had it her way, she would spend every moment she could outside. She loved the great outdoors almost as much as she loved reading, and any time she was able to combine her two passions, she was the happiest girl in town. But right now, there were sheets to collect, rooms to clean, and lunch to help with, and none of those things were going to take care of themselves.

When Rose finished changing the linens in all six of the bedrooms, she came downstairs to the kitchen. Aunt Maggie was already working away on something on the stove, and although Rose knew better, she let her curiosity get the better of her. She came around to Aunt Maggie’s side and leaned over the pot, peeking in as she took a deep breath. By the color of the liquid and the beans she could see floating on the top, she could tell it was chili. She gave Aunt Maggie a quick peck on the cheek. 

“Now, what have I told you about bothering an old woman while she’s cooking?” Aunt Maggie asked in a good-natured tone. To an outsider, it may have sounded as though she was scolding her, but Rose knew better. If Aunt Maggie was scolding you, you would surely know it.

“I know, I know,” Rose assured her, going over to the cabinet by the door to the dining room and taking out the plates for dinner. “But how can I resist when you know chili is one of my favorites? Did you make cornbread, too?”

Aunt Maggie scoffed. “‘Did I make cornbread? Is the sky blue? Does a bear use the toilet in the woods?”

“I should certainly hope so because I wouldn’t want to meet with a bear in the outhouse!” Rose stacked the plates as high as she could without worrying about dropping any of them and went out into the dining room. The sun was streaming through the windows at the front of the building, and it made the dust in the sunbeams dance with delight. As Rose laid out the plates, she thought about how happy she had been in the three years she’d been living with Aunt Maggie. Growing up at the children’s home wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t where Rose would have liked to have grown up. She wanted a big family with two happy parents who loved her more than anything in the world. Instead, she got more ‘siblings’ than she could count on her fingers, all of whom expected a letter from her at least once a week. She was spending a small fortune on writing supplies just to keep up with the demand.

When Rose had come of age, Aunt Maggie, a kindly lady in the nearby town of Valliant, had taken her under her wing. Rose had been coming to the dining room every day after school to do her homework since she was old enough to attend school. She liked taking the table by the window because when she was very small, she found it quite difficult to see the words on the page unless they were well-lit. Eventually, Aunt Maggie had discovered Rose’s struggles and had taken her to the doctor. Dr. Finch, the town physician, had told her she’d needed spectacles, and she’d worn them ever since. When Aunt Maggie came up to Rose shortly before she turned sixteen and asked her if she’d like to come and work at the inn in exchange for room and board plus whatever little extra Aunt Maggie could afford, Rose had jumped at the opportunity. And now, as she laid out the last napkin on the table, Rose couldn’t imagine being happier than she was at that moment.

When she came back to the kitchen, Aunt Maggie was taking the cornbread out of the oven. The whole room smelled like sweet corn, and it smelled so delicious that Rose’s mouth began to water. Instead of asking Aunt Maggie for a piece, she went over and had a glass of water. There were many rules that Rose bent or nudged, but eating before the guests was not one of them. She helped Aunt Maggie put the chili into the bowls and cut up the cornbread, and then the two women started taking the food out into the dining room. By that time, most of their guests had either come downstairs or had come in from outside, and Rose was happy to see them. Well, most of them. 

At the head of the table sat Aunt Maggie’s longest-running guest, Miss Virginia Bowen. Virginia was a very kind lady who spent most of her days up in her room writing. She wrote just the kind of stories that Rose liked reading: adventures, romances, and sometimes a combination of the two. Being an authoress was a rare thing, but Miss Virginia was able to make a living for herself by writing under the pen name of V.R. Bowen, who everyone assumed was a man. Rose always found it funny when a pair of fellows would come into the dining room, reading one of Miss Virginia’s books. They’d say something like, “This Mr. Bowen sure knows his stuff! I’ll bet he’s a fine chap, the kind you could sit down and have a beer with!” Little did those men know, they were, in fact, sharing a table with V.R. Bowen, and she certainly was the kind of lady they could share a beer with!

Beside Miss Virginia sat the recluse of the group, Mr. Truman Tate. Mr. Tate was a traveling salesman who came through town once or twice a month and stayed for a few days at a time. He wasn’t a particularly successful salesman, seeing as how he hardly ever wanted to talk to anyone. Aung Maggie usually accepted payment from him in the form of whatever product he was trying to hawk that month. This month, it was men’s shaving cream. In exchange for his three-night stay, he’d given them enough shaving cream to last them at least a month with all-male guests. Aunt Maggie had tried to give some of it back to him, but Mr. Tate had said the company wouldn’t take it back anyway, so she should just go ahead and have it.

Across from Mr. Tate was a married couple on their honeymoon, Mr. and Mrs. Walker Davies. Mr. and Mrs. Davies were from Georgia, and although no one could figure out why they’d come to Valliant for their honeymoon, they were happy to have them here just the same.

After Aunt Maggie had served the food, Rose stepped away from the dining room to let the guests eat their food in peace. Through the door of the kitchen, she could hear them talking happily and getting along better than she had heard so many people get along before. It brought her so much happiness to be in such a warm, caring environment because she had spent so much of her life being in places that could have used a lot more kindness, caring, and warmth. As she sat in the kitchen, she thought about the places she had lived in her life: the orphanage and the families who thought they could adopt her, but unfortunately, it didn’t work out. Living at the orphanage had made her feel as though she was almost alone in the world. Yes, she had all the other children she had been living with, but there was never a moment where she truly felt as though she was with her family. And when she had stayed with those other families who said they might adopt her, there was always an element of longing of yearning for something that she hadn’t ever experienced: her own family.

Rose didn’t know who her family was. She was left on the steps of the orphanage one night, and there were hardly any clues as to who her family could be. There was, however, the shawl. Whoever had dropped her off that night had wrapped her in a hand-knitted shawl. It wasn’t a particularly beautiful shawl, but it was the only element she had that connected her to her family.

She had looked over it time and time and time again, trying to glean any clues that she could from it. She looked at the stitches, trying to see if they were different or unique in any way. In fact, she looked over them so many times that she thought she could have replicated the pattern if she closed her eyes right now. She had looked at the color of yarn, and she wondered if it was hand-dyed or if it had been dyed by someone who was a professional. By the looks of it, it seemed to be hand-dyed. And so Rose thought perhaps her parents were not very wealthy, but she knew that they were talented because they had been able to do this themselves. It was something that Rose had never been able to do. She’d never been particularly good at handicrafts and things like that, but she forged her way through them. She even went his far as trying to see if there were any bits of hay or pieces of anything that had been left behind in the shawl by her family. But the longer she had the shawl, the longer she thought that perhaps the bits and pieces that she found within the stitches were, in fact, hers and not her family’s.

When she had been taken in by Aunt Maggie, Rose had tried her very best to find her family. She had gone to the orphanage and had asked for any records they had, but unfortunately, the orphanage was telling the truth when they said that all they had was the shawl. She had tried to contact local families to see if anyone knew anything, or perhaps if anyone had been out that night and had seen any of her family members. But no one was any help. And so, Rose had gone about her life thinking that perhaps she didn’t have a family, or if she did, that they didn’t care about her enough to try and get in contact with her. Either that or everyone who was related to her had died, which was also certainly a possibility. She truly hoped that at some point in her life, she would meet someone, anyone who could tell her about her past, about her parents, or about any real siblings that she had, but for the time being, she was happy, she was safe, and she had Aunt Maggie.

When the guests were finished eating, Rose went into the dining room and cleared their plates and began washing the dishes. Aunt Maggie had been called away to help someone outside with a particularly recalcitrant horse. As Rose started washing the dishes, she wondered about Aunt Maggie. The older woman had never spoken very much about her family. Rose didn’t even know if Aunt Maggie had ever been married. She didn’t know if she’d even ever had any suitors. Aunt Maggie wasn’t the kind of person to talk about things like that; it just didn’t come up very often in conversation. Well, she supposed that Aunt Maggie made sure it didn’t come up in conversation very often. There were a few gentlemen in town who had shown interest in her, but Aunt Maggie always made sure to make it very clear that her priority was Rose and the inn.

When Rose was finished with the dishes, she went about tidying the guest rooms. The majority of the guests had headed out for the day, and were not going to be back until much later that evening. She was able to take her time as she fluffed pillows, put things in their place, and opened the curtains to let in some light. Mr. Tate was one guest in particular who didn’t very much like keeping his curtains open, but Rose had read in one of her books about the benefits of having sunlight and fresh air in one’s room. And so, whenever she was in there, she always made sure to leave it open and then close it up before the traveling salesman returned.

Once the rooms had been taken care of, Rose returned downstairs, she knew that she had at least a couple of hours before it was time to start on supper. And so, she took the time to do some reading. Rose was an exceptional reader; she read books about anything and everything. Had her situation been different, she would have liked to continue with her education, but with things being as they were, she knew that she was more valuable at the inn with Aunt Maggie.

Right now, for example, she was reading a book about seamstress techniques. Rose had always wanted to learn how to sew properly and how to sew garments that would fit her. She wasn’t sure why she had this inclination because she didn’t much care about fashion or what her clothes particularly looked like. But there was some yearning inside of her that she had for being a seamstress, and so she found every book that she could and read about it. The people in town had gotten to know Rose quite well through her book addiction. The town of Valliant didn’t have that many books between its inhabitants, but the books it did have were shared between everyone. No one in town hoarded their books or tried to keep their educational information from one another. If one person had books, well, then everyone did. It was just that kind of a town.

Rose took her book up to her little room at the top of the stairs, well, the top of the second-floor stairs, and curled herself up in her little window seat that she had made for herself and read. As the words floated into her mind, she found herself dreaming about all of the places that sewing could take her.

Rose was an ambitious young woman. She wanted to see the world and all the people that were in it. She knew how unlikely this was because she had very little money and Aunt Maggie had even less money. But still, it was nice to dream, and when she read, she was able to envision all of the wonderful places that she would go.

If she were a seamstress, then she could just have her little kit of sewing things and take it around the world. She could hop aboard any ship that came into port and head out into the wider world. Now, Valliant didn’t have a port, of course, because it was very, very landlocked, but she dreamed about places she could go where the world was full of possibility and promise.

But now, she found her eyes growing heavy, and before she knew it, she was asleep. As she slept, she had a most curious dream. She dreamed that she was herself…but not exactly herself. In the dream, she could see a small cabin. The cabin looked as though it had been very carefully crafted, but there was something just slightly…off about it. Being inside the cabin didn’t make Rose feel very safe. The cabin was very small, with just one room on the ground floor. There was a hearth, there was a small dining table, and there was a sofa. That was about it.

She could tell there was a second floor, but for some reason, she wasn’t able to go up there. She didn’t like that in dreams when her mind kept her from certain places. It made her feel as though there was something that her unconscious mind knew that it didn’t want her conscious brain to know just yet. If there was one thing that Rose liked, it was her whole brain working in harmony.

She sat down at the little table, and a scene unfolded before her. She watched the front door open, and a person walked through it. She couldn’t exactly see them, and it was as though they were just out of focus, but she could tell from their energy that there was something wrong.

They were mad. As soon as they walked into the room, she felt very uneasy, as though she wanted to leave. The person came in and laid down on the sofa. A few moments later, someone else walked through the door. This person was even more difficult to see, but Rose felt immediately at ease when they walked in. It wasn’t because the person was particularly happy or in a good mood; it was because Rose felt a kinship with them.

However, this person was even more difficult to see than the first person was. It wasn’t even as though they were out of focus. It was almost as though they just weren’t there entirely, and yet Rose could feel their energy. It was as though they shared a connection.

The second person came in and stood in the middle of the room, speaking to the first person who had walked in. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but everything kept feeling very uneasy. She sat at the table watching the scene, wanting to stand up and ask them to speak so that she could hear them and address her directly because she was there. As the scene continued, the first person stood up from the couch and then something happened. Rose couldn’t discern exactly what it was, but it made her feel awful. It filled her with a sort of dread and terror that she hadn’t experienced before. And oddly enough, it was as though whatever was happening to the second person was also happening to Rose directly on some other level.

The first person stormed out of the cabin and slammed the door, leaving just the second person. Rose could feel herself being pulled from the dream, and she desperately tried to cling to it. As it started to slip away from her, she could see the second person slightly more clearly. She could tell that it was a woman, she just wasn’t sure who. But she knew that this woman was important to her. Just as Rose was about to reach out and touch this woman, she awoke with a start and found herself back in her room. She breathed heavily for a few moments, unsure of how to process what she had just dreamed. She’d never had dreams like this before. All of Rose’s dreams were rather nonsensical. They either didn’t have a lot of meaning, they weren’t very cohesive, or something just always didn’t make sense. But this time, things had seemed to make such clear sense that she didn’t know how to process what she was feeling. Could the woman and the other person who she had seen be related to her? Were they someone who she had seen in town? Why did she feel such a strong connection to these two? And why was she dreaming about this? Why now? Nothing had changed in her life, and she usually found that when there was some sort of upheaval, like when she left the orphanage and came to live with Aunt Maggie, her dreams became more vivid and more life-like.

But now she wasn’t sure what was happening. She had been living with Aunt Maggie for a while, her day-to-day life remained unchanged, and she wasn’t considering making any sudden adjustments.

As Rose sat there holding her book in her hands and thinking about what she just dreamed, she wondered if perhaps she was having a vision of her future. She wondered if she saw the woman as herself and the other person was whoever she was destined to end up with. It didn’t fill her with much hope or a feeling of having something to look forward to because the other person seemed very scary. She didn’t know how she would end up with someone like that. She thought that she had a pretty good head on her shoulders and that she could tell a lot about a person just by getting to know them a little bit. As she thought about that, she worried that perhaps when she finally met a fellow, she would be swept away by whoever came to her first. It made her feel cautious about who she was associating with and who she was spending her time with. But the truth was that Rose hadn’t really spent much time with any young men, and any who showed interest in her she flew from because they scared her. Rose only wanted to end up with a man like the men that she read about in her books. They were strong, they were handsome, they were kind, and they were daring. These were all characteristics that she knew would look for in a husband. But she worried that if she relied too much on her books that she would end up with someone who just wasn’t right for her. Rose was lost in these thoughts when she heard a noise from downstairs.

At first, she just shrugged it off, thinking that it might be one of the plates and the kitchen settling or perhaps it was someone outside making a noise against the side of the building. But when the noise came again a few moments later, Rose thought perhaps that Aunt Maggie was back, and she wanted to go and greet her. She came down the first flight of stairs and paused, listening to see if the noise continued. When she heard it a third time, she thought that, yes, it did sound exactly like Aunt Maggie coming back. She walked through the hallway of guest rooms and down the next set of stairs to the hallway by the back entrance.

She came around through the sitting room to the front hall, where she thought she would meet Aunt Maggie. But instead of her guardian, she found a young man.

“Oh,” she said, “I do apologize. I thought that you were my aunt coming back from assisting someone outside. Are you looking for a room to let? Can we help you in any way?”

Rose took another look at the young man. He was very handsome. He had dark brown hair and green eyes; he had a wry smile on his lips and looked as though he was about five inches taller than she was, and Rose was a fairly tall girl. But as Rose looked at the young man, she could tell there was something very familiar about him. She knew she hadn’t seen his face before, or rather, she hadn’t seen his face specifically, but she had seen one like it. When he started speaking, she still couldn’t quite place it.

“That’s very kind of you to offer,” he said, “but I am actually looking for the proprietor of this establishment. Is she nearby?”

Rose couldn’t help but smile. “You probably passed her on the way in,” she said. “She was outside helping someone with their horse. She has a knack for getting unruly horses to behave themselves.”

 ”Sadly, I do not believe I passed her,” he told her.

Rose was slightly perplexed. “Oh, then I’m not sure exactly where she is. Do I know you?” she asked. “I’m sorry to be so forward, it’s just you look all together very familiar.” 

The young man chuckled and ran his fingers through his hair. He was carrying a small bag, and he set it down on the floor beside him.

“Well, not exactly,” he said. “I don’t think you know me, but you may know my mother.”

“That would make a great deal of sense. Who is your mother?”

The young man blinked and looked at her plainly and then said, “I should have known that Ma wouldn’t mention me. My mother is the proprietor of this inn, Mrs. Magnolia Carp. My name is Wyatt.”

Rose couldn’t believe her ears. Aunt Maggie had a son? Why hadn’t she told Rose? Did that mean she had been married at some point? She knew that Aunt Maggie referred to herself as ‘Mrs.’, but she had thought that perhaps that was just what she called herself; she had never thought of that being a real possibility. Was Aunt Maggie widowed? What had happened to her husband? As she was thinking about all this, she realized that she was just staring at this new visitor, slack-jawed. She shook her questions from her mind and addressed him.

“You’re Aunt Maggie’s son, of course you are!” She tried to say it as though she knew full well who she was. “Right. Shall I go and see if I can locate her?”

“That would be very kind, thank you,” Wyatt said graciously.

“Please make yourself at home in the meantime,” Rose told him. She brushed past him and out the door. How could this be happening? This was such a surprise, and Rose found herself feeling slightly offended. She knew that Aunt Maggie liked to keep herself to herself, but she expected she would have told her about something as big as this. Did Aunt Maggie not trust her enough? Rose thought that their relationship was close enough that she would tell her something like that. She suddenly found herself full of doubt and as she made her way through town looking for her guardian, she knew that her life had just changed in a significant way.

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“Seeking her Daughter in the West” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

Amidst the serene embrace of Orchard Inn, Rose Langtree has found refuge under the guidance of the woman who has become her unofficial guardian. Everything changes, however, when an enigmatic stranger arrives at the inn, claiming to be her guardian’s estranged son. Suspicion turns into curiosity when a twist of fate places Rose in his care after an unforeseen mishap, and he proves to be her steadfast protector…

As they are forced to get closer, will Rose change her mind about the handsome stranger?

Wyatt Carp, the son of the owner of the Orchard Inn, has wandered for half a decade, haunted by a shadow not his own. Returning home, a town that once scorned him, he seeks redemption. Yet, fate has other plans when he meets the lovely maid working for his mother. Instantly enamored, he finds himself swept away by her charm, even as his past threatens to resurface. Amidst his battle with writer’s block, can he win her heart and craft a love story to rival the classics?

Hopefully, he won’t be left with nothing but empty pages and unspoken dreams…

As Rose and Wyatt delve into their blossoming romance, a menacing gang arrives in their town, testing their connection. Together, they must uncover the gang’s secrets while unraveling the truth about Rose’s parentage. Will they conquer the challenges and prove Wyatt’s innocence, or will their blooming love be consumed by doubt and deception?

“Seeking her Daughter in the West” is a historical western romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

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